I move back toward our car, shouting, "I'll tell you what's my problem. This!" pointing at the totaled rear end. "You know that pedal next to the gas? It's called the brake. Look into it."

Jessica stares for a moment. She's pretty sure that by now, she should be on her knees throwing up, but it doesn't happen. Rationalizing that everything she ever ate is now safely behind the paper shields of barf bags on board the jet, she decides to not take chances.

"Yeah, very interesting. Nice meeting you. Bye."

She turns around, signalling Artis to come with her.

*Wasn't there talk of a bomb from the computer ? Well, if those techies are so intent on getting blown up, let it be. I'm outta here.*

Highway A-2

The driver seems unimpressed by Harry's front, taking more interest in Gavin's wise-ass grin. He looks directly at Harry.

(Getting in Harry's face)

"Fuck you, man! Why don't you Americans learn how to drive before you come over here? I just got my car detailed. Do you know how much this is going to cost to get fixed? I think you (poking Harry in the chest) should be owing me a fucking apology."

The irate nature of the driver is enough to distract Gavin and Harry (sorry, I rolled really bad for you guys). As the driver finishes reading Harry the riot act, Gavin notices that the passenger has disappeared from sight.

(P.S. Still waiting to see what ADS is doing before moving on with the airport scene)

(Edited by Dieter at 10:26 am on April 29, 2002)

"OK," I say, pulling Jess aside. Next, in a whisper: "Who knew about our flight? This mission may be a set up - for what, I don't know. BUT, let's say that it's an inside job. They'll know the bomb didn't work and they'll try again. If we don't report this then they'll know something's up and they'll be sneakier about it next time. If we report it, they'll know anyway, but they might not know that we suspect them." With that, I take out my cellphone and start dialing up the Home Office (or whatever).

Artis makes a call to the Home Office. The call, after a series of codewords and phrases, is eventually routed to the Kyle.

"Shrike, go ahead. Agent Goose...of course I know what happened. I was notified of your mid-air calamity soon after you landed. Proceed with the mission, take note of anything you may seem out of the ordinary and report it back to me directly. By my watch, your contacts should be waiting for you at the courtesy desk in Terminal A."

"Goose out." To Jessica: "Let's get our stuff and get in to the terminal."

(Assuming Jess doesn't refuse leaving)

As Artis and Jess leave, they see Bill coming in, wearing a dry pair of pants.

"Sorry about that...very unprofessional of me. Trust me, the minute you don't respect terrorists, is the day we see another jumbo jet fly into a building."

Bill walks by the duo as Fred approaches Artis and Jess.

"Don't mind him, for the most part, he's a class act. Bill was just one of the unfortunate people who felt that he could have done something to stop the attacks in New York and D.C. We lost 30 agents that day...anyway, take care and only trust the Home Office. If we get any usable info from this investigation, I'll forward it to you."

Artis and Jess take the advice to heart as they make their way from the hangar to Terminal 1. (OOC: Name switched by me from Terminal A).

From about 75 feet away Artis and Jess see the courtesy desk. Standing near the counter attendant are two individuals....both male, mid-late twenties, dressed in formal yet comfortable attire (slacks and polo shirts, no coats) for a Madrid summer. One is talking on his phone and the other is impatiently rolling and unrolling a copy of what appears to be Sport Illustrated.

(Edited by Dieter at 1:20 pm on April 29, 2002)

Something's not right here. Gavin's hands tighten into fists as he notices the missing passenger. As the driver finishes up his tirade, Gavin interjects with, "Hey shorty, where'd your friend go?"

And if he tries any funny business, he's getting Righty right in the teeth.

Better get this over with...

I smile and nod at the two guys, walking over to them.

"Buenas tardes, amigos. Hablo... habl.. pantalones... er. Do either of you speak English? Could you tell me, why does the hawk fly lowest at dawn?"

OK, so I'm not subtle.

(OOC: DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!)

The passenger of the car, while trying to sneak up behind Gavin and Harry (but critically failing his move silently roll) slips on a patch of oil on the side of the road in front of Harry's car.

(slip, fall, pants are torn)

Punta! Hay, no es bueno!

And that's when Gavin hit 'em.

Gavin lays into the driver, giving him two solid punches, one in the face and one in the gut. The driver is not out for the count, but he did get his clock cleaned.

And I suppose that's initiative...

(Edited by Dieter at 8:17 am on April 30, 2002)

The driver struggles to maintain his balance, while pulling out a gun (pistol, probably a PPK) from behind his back. He apparently is still dazed by Gavin's attack since his shot goes way off target.

The passenger also fights with gravity in an attempt to get up. He's on his feet, but notices that his gun had skittered across the shoulder and is now out of reach. He'll be moving towards his gun and will be there by the end of this round.

Meanwhile, back at Terminal Numero Uno

The two individuals look at Artis. The one carrying the Sports Illustrated replies back to him in equally bad Spanish 101.

"Er. um...Si...I mean yes...damn foreigners.(begins looking through a small book). Ah...yes...Because of the windchill??"

An initial read of this guy suggests he's inept, but sincere...obviously an American...probably from the South.

Jess looks at Mr.Sports Illustrated and tries to read him.

He looks sincere...bad tie though. The poor bastard probably has been waiting an eternity for us.

Mister S.I. looks over Artis' shoulder,

"Hello, what do we got here? Tell me she's (glancing at Jess) with you."

I'll let her answer that one... these fools don't know what they've stepped on...

I just give them a friendly grin. "The Audubon Society said to meet you here for the directions to the bird-watching expedition."

(OOC: wink wink nudge nudge)

"Well howdy, we've waiting here some time. Didja have a good flight? I personally hate flying. If yer ready to go, we, me and Mr. Cel-phone over there are ready to take you to your hotel."

Back to Terror on the Turnpike

Harry has an oh shit! moment as he sees (and feels) the bullets whizzing by him. As he does his best Keanu Reeves impression, he draws his .40 S&W and fires, hitting the driver squarely in the thigh.

The driver goes down in a fit of pure agony, the bullet striking his femoral artery. He collapses in a pool of his own blood near the hood of his car. He's a goner without immediately medical attention.

Harry's never actually shot a human being, let alone thinking one shot could result in (most likely) a mortal wound.

His lunch starts to come back up as his adrenaline fully kicks in, keeping his combat senses about him.

(OOC: I rolled a natural 19 for your fortitude save)

Gavin sees the passenger get up, look around for his gun and dive for it.

As the passenger does a head-first slide, grabbing his gun in the process (a Desert Eagle), Gavin closes the distance and gives him a boot to the head.

The kick lands squarely, but seems to have little effect on him. He looks pissed off and turns, aiming Mr. Desert Eagle at Gavin.

(Edited by Dieter at 10:22 am on May 1, 2002)

Back at the airport

After the cordial greetings, the two men escort Artis and Jess to one of the many parking lots that surround the airport terminals. The one who was on his cel-phone leads the way.

As soon as you get out of the crowds of people, the friendly one greets you again.

"So, is this your first trip to Spain...I tell ya what, I thought San Antonio was hot."

The smalltalk subsides as the foursome enter a stairwell to the lower levels of the parking garage.

"Our mutual friend here (pointing to Mr. Cel Phone) had to park on the bottom level."

The agent holds the stairwell door open letting Jess and Artis walk by.

"Lady's first..."

"Nice to know that some people still have manners. Thank you."

*The next one to serve up a gender stereotype shall bear no more children...*

Jessica and Artis file through the door.

As the agent follows them and the door slams shut, Artis glances over his shoulder, noticing the agent pulling out a small pistol from the Sports Illustrated he was holding.

At the same time, Jessica sees the agent in front of her tear off down the stairwell.

(Adam, since you said you were being openly paranoid I'll give you a free half action to react. Stand by for initiatives on the OOC page)

Jessica pulls out her gun and gives the guy the look of,

Don't even think about it.

As he stares at the barrel pointed at him, it is enough of a distraction for Artis to grappel him with an aikido manuever (natural 20, you bastard!), monkey-tossing the agent over Jessica and down the flight of stairs. He then exclaims loudly,

"And that's half speed!"

Just as Artis and Jess were ready to high-five eachother, the second agent appears from below brandishing a MP-5K. He fires two bursts, spraying both of them with hot lead.

The first shots go wild as bullets impact the wall and railing around Jessica's head. He manages to brace his second burst, directing them into the larger center mass of Artis.

Fortunately, Artis' vest manages to slow down the shots, but he's definitely in pain.

(Edited by Dieter at 2:06 pm on May 1, 2002)