Megaman - Saturday, January 27, 2001, 10:05 PM
-----------------------------------------------

Iraq
The fabled birthplace of civilization still bears a hint of its heritage. Nestled between the Tigris and Euphrates, a new civilization has begun. But this time it's not human. A small, albeit growing, reploid society has sprung up in this region, mostly due to its proximity to the oil fields. Here some of the less vile and heroic reploids, the average civilian bots, make a happy and usually quiet life.

High above the middle eastern landscape, a large cargo aircraft glides effortlessly through the air towards it's destination, carrying on board nothing less than a shipment of various high tech goods and equipment. The nature of the items on board are to the point that using a teleporter to transport them could be risky. Base components for fusion generators and the like aren't so easily disassembled and reassembled on teh molecular level without some...consequences. So this latest shipment for Japan has to travel the old fashioned way. At this moment, Rick had chosen to accompany it because he has a vested interest in some of that cargo. Namely it's got Light Labs' signature on their crates indicating their ownership. You never know when you'll have to replace a damaged generator on a vehicle....and Rick is one who always like to have spare parts handy.

As it is, he leans back against one of those crates, glancing out a circular window as he pours himself a cup of coffee from a large thermos. Even though they're flying over a desert right now....it can get chilly up at these altitudes.

Not far from the cyborg is seated a young redheaded woman the same age as he. In her hands is also a thermose. But this one of hot herbal tea...in keeping consistant with her disdain for coffee. Twila is, at present, within her medical gear since officially, she happens to be "on-duty" along with her brother and act as his assistant. Her gaze trails his as he glances out the portal, trying to catch a glimpse of where they are exactly as well. But...she can see precious little. "So tell me again the ETA?" she questions, truning away from the window.

"Well at current speeds and everything else into account...I'd say around two hours or so." Rick states, before smirking slightly. "Remember we've been spoiled rotten flying around in orbital capable craft. No rocketing around the planet in fifteen minutes this time..."

He takes a sip from his mug then, glancing up as one of the crew members of the craft, a man of Asian blood, wanders past with a checklist, giving a quick nod in the process to the twins as well. "As it is should be smooth flying the rest of the way. We're over Iraq or Iran right now I figure. I didn't check the GPS."

Twila frowns slightly, remembering all to well what had happened the last time she was within this region. However, the frown soon disappears. After all, she did agree to come on this trip. "Not suprised. Didn't see much out there but sky and sand when I last looked," she quips. "As for being spolied rotten? You gotta be kidding. Some of us still remember longer rides I'll remind you."

Rick Morgan nods at that, cracking another grin in the process. "Yeah but think how quickly you manage to forget about them and all when you travel in -style- more than once..." he chuckles, making a swooshing motion with his free hand.

Meanwhile, outside, the twin jet engined craft continues to soar forward under it's own power, cutting through the air like the giant aerodynamic wing that it is. As such, the sudden arrival of another, smaller craft behind it, this one about the size of a small business jet dosen't really bother it's course that much more, though the pilot of the cargo plane does request that it break off it's course for fear of the potential of a collision.

The answer was not exactly what he was expecting...or wanting for that matter. On the undercarriage of the pursuing jet, a pair of blasters come to life, spitting forward a hail of laserfire that slash across the large craft's right win, and bite deep intot he engine mounted there, causing it to go up in a sudden burst of flame, smoke and flying debris.

As a result, the entire thing lurches violently, causing Rick to stumble and wind up flat on his face on the floor, losing his coffee and thermos in the process.
Twila doesn't fair much better in maintaining her seat, posture or thermos. In fact, the way the plan jolted from the unexpected explosion she's fpractically thrown against Rick himself. After a few seconds she maintains her grip and pushes herself up. "What in the heck us? We under attack?" she blurts.

At about the same time the Asian man tumbles past the two, his checklist sliding right behind him.

Rick Morgan grunts as he feels Twila's form hit him as well, though he holds up of course rather well. She's alot smaller than him afterall. "I don't know...." he growls, as he starts to get to his feet. Another jolt rocks the craft, though he's ready this time, able to reach out to help hold Twila up as well.

A shout from the front confirms his suspicions for that matter. "Right engine is out of commission! We're down to fifty percent power! Shunt more to the left side, take evasive maneuvers they're trying to come up on top of us and lock on!"

The pilot and co-pilot's frantic words mix with the running of both human and robotic feed on the deck above, which is the main area above the cargo hold.

At that, Rick blinks and frowns once more. "Looks like this is about to get a whole lot worse real fast..." he mutters.

"So much for the smooth ride..." Twila remarks with a sigh, wondering who it is that's accosting the craft. While bracing herelf he darts a glance to the outside portal as if to try and catch sight of the assialent. Mavericks, Masters, or...someone else?

And Twila would catch a brief glimpse of the craft as it rockets past the window, going out and -ahead- of the transport, before looping up and out of sight for those few seconds.

Outside, the smaller jet pulls a perfect maneuver, coming down just above the cargo craft, and deploying a set of heavy clamps that lower into place, and secure it firmly on the larger aircraft's spine. It isn't long before those in the smaller ship are cutting through the upper hull, and gaining access to the wounded `bird within a matter of minutes.

The first warning of what's going on up above is the sudden sound of increased yelling....quickly followed by weapons going off with a series of loud discharges. This is enough to immediately cause Rick to pull out his revolver and hold it at the ready, glancing up towards the ladder that leads to the upper deck.

"Bad...." he mutters. "...real bad."

The man's sibling can't help but give her agreement, if not vocally than with a gesture. Twila's hand goes for her own weapon that she had been given months ago. Although not suited for combat, it had been decided awhile back she needs her own protection. Although not the same as a revolver, hers is a taser...somewhat at a stronger level mind you. "Not even door-to-door salesmen are this pushy..." she snorts.

"I wouldn't put it past them believe me..." Rick grunts, as he reaches back with a hand to usher Twila back behind the crate for the nearest cover. And don't worry, he's joining her there as well, crouching down next to her as he holds his revolver still at the ready, eyes set to the area they were just standing.

It isn't long before the sounds of combat filter off. The crew really wasn't equipped to be fighting anyway...and it's not hard to assume they've been overcome.

It's then that another voice filters through, a barked set of orders. "Check down in the cargo hold. Make sure it's all there and secure!"

Seconds later, the sound of someone descending the ladder is heard, and Rick visibly tenses, holding himself at the ready, before shooting a quick glance towards Twila as well. With that, he then waits....

...and it dosen't take long. WIth deliberate steps, another man comes onto the scene, this one dressed in combat fatigues, and wearing a bright red headband as well as toting a large automatic rifle in his hands. He rounds one corner of the crates, and moves to inspect another set....conveniently putting his back right -to- the twins.

And Rick isn't about to waste an opprotunity. He leaps forward, already putting one arm up and clamping it hard around the soldier's neck, squeezing as his other hand moves to attempt to pin his arms. Though the man dosen't call out in his suprise, he -does- begin to put up a fierce struggle, pushing back to slam Rick forcefully against the crate behind him....though the technician holds on for all it's worth, grunting and heaving with the effort.

All Twila can think of is Rick better come back behind the crates. No good making himself a walking target as well as loose the suprise on these assailents. As he moves to give his greeting the young woman keeps her taser locked on the intruder. However, with her brother right in the way, she holds back. She does move herself to attempt a better position, waiting to fire as soon as she gets the chance.

A moment or so later she finds her main target clear for only a few moments during the struggle and takes her chance. No yell. No scream. She mearly fires.

*ZZZZOT!*

Well there's the effects of a contained charge on the human body ladies and gentlemen. In Rick's grip, the man's body goes rigid for a few seconds, before crumpling to the floor in an uneven heap without much fanfare. As such, Rick takes a step back, breathing heavily for a few moments, before glancing towards Twila. "Thanks..." he says quickly, before glancing back towards the ladder again. "We can't just sit here like this for the whole trip....we're going to have to find a way to either take the craft back or....well, do -something-. Before the rest of them realize that we're here..." At that, he kneels down, reaching out towards the man's dropped assault rifle...

...only to have a large foot come down ON the weapon, effectively breaking it in half with the sheer impact, narrowly missing crushing his fingers at the same time. Rick's eyes widen, as he glances up...following the form, and he visibly pales as his eyes settle in on the details of said form....and the face.

In all his unglory, and hefting a rather generous amount of firepower in the form of a rather large autocannon slung over his right shoulder, is none other than a spectre from Rick's past. The gleaming half-metal faceplate, the right arm and leg that are as mechanical as Rick's own prosthetics...and the claws at the tips of those fingers. Those damnable claws....

...and the familiar voice of course. "Well well well....this must be my lucky day...."

Whatever Twila was about to say in response is cut short by the new arrival. She had been watching the opening from above. Unfortunately, she was unable to verbalize any type of warning before the newcomer appeared. It takes a few short moments, but she does indeed recognize this fellow. And the fact that he's practically right over Rick doesn't help the situation in her eyes any. Nevermind the fact there may be others that are at work here or the entire craft is in danger. Lifting her taser again she warns, "Step away from him..."

"Oh please little girl, you think I can't kill you where you stand an instant before you even THINK of pulling that trigger? Thanks to this little traitor I can now do things I never thought possible befo...OOF!"

Nevermind. Rick's heard it all already. He knows the story, and so does Twila. He knows what happened the last time, he knows what'll happen this time if he dosen't do something about it.

And he DEFINETELY remembers the pain that he'd felt that last time for that matter. All of it comes into a full tackle as he levels himself straight at the other cyborg's midsection, body slamming into Mason's gut as the two of them are carried along to impact the wall. The hit is actually enough to cause the former biker now turned mercenary to fall flat on his rear...though not for long. Before Rick's even fully straightened up, he catches a metal fist to the gut, followed by the other flesh and blood one to the cheek as he's spun up and around, to hit the crate behind him, sending it clattering to the side in a chorus of falling pieces and debris. Thankfully it wasn't as hard of a hit he's gotten the -last- time, but it still knocked the wind out of him for the moment.

By now the sounds of conflict will probably be alerting others above any minute now.

By the way the two are tackling each other, firing on Mason like she did his cohart does not appear to be an option. Even during their struggle she can overhear the others above them and it'll only be a matter of time before they investigate. She postions herself near the opening, getting herself ready to. As much as she would help Rick, she also knows that Mason's comrades would make it far more difficult should they intercede. And that's a chance neither she nor Rick can take at this point.

Rick Morgan pushes himself up from where he landed with a low growl. Sure his jaw hurts like heck...but it's nothing new is it? Besides he didn't get the metal fist that time. A split second after he's up, a metallic flash gives him a brief warning, before he ducks outright, those razor sharp finger-claws slashing through the air where he was a split second ago.

"Not THIS time, Mason!" he grunts, straightening up and driving one of his armored feet HARD into the man's midsection, getting a loud grunt from the impact as a result. "You got the drop on me the last time..." He straightens, lashing out with a fist with one knuckle raised, just like in basic training, as he delivers it to the other cyborg's chest, a solid *WHUNK* coming out followed by a sudden gasp of air. GUess he wasn't metal -there- now was he? "...but I'm ready now! You shoulda stayed a two bit, no good biker punk!" With that, he leaps up and spins about, bringing his foot up and AGAIN making contact, now putting the other larger man on the defensive...forcing him back to crash into a set of crates on the opposite side of the cargo hold.

And Twila' vigilance at the ladder is rewarded. After hearing the signs of struggle, another man leaps down, forgoing the use of the ladder itself, landing in a slight crouch with his weapon at the ready. What he did -not- expect was to come face to face with a girl holding a taser...and as such he hesitates for those few critical seconds with but one thought.

.oO(She's cute...)Oo.

And those few critical seconds cost him dearly. Without waiting a moment more she fires at the man point blank, and only moves herself to avoid being tackled. She'll relish the strong points of having a hold on male hormones later. For now, with her taser still readied, she kneels down quickly after he hits the floor and retrieves his weapon, trying to overhear just how many men are involved in this...and is there a way to really know. Maybe she should have asked the man before she fired. But somehow, she doubts he would have been talkative. She checks the weapon, it's make and strength, inwardly frowning. She only used these type in simulations. But no time to worry of that now. Least it's one less weapon on their side. She waits to hear of anyone else...before acting.

Rick Morgan dosen't bother waiting to see if Mason gets up or not, he's already moving, coming up near Twila and putting a hand on her shoulder for those few seconds. "Quick we gotta get to the upper level. We gotta find either a way off of this thing or....well..how to take it back. We'll figure out something!" With that, he puts his back onto another crate and gives it a HARD shove, toppling it over and -onto- the other Cyborg, who was just starting to get up at the time. His muffled, "ARGH!" can be heard as he's again covered in rubble, buying a few more precious seconds.

.oO(Terrific.)Oo. Well, one thing for certain, none of her fellow Hunters can order her back into safety from this one. Oddly, this is how Twila would prefer it if given the choice. She's didn't agree to be inducted into the Hunter's to stay on the sidelines. "I'm not hearing anyone else out there at the moment," she states. But that doesn't mean anyone isn't. Judging by how they're coming in...can judge where they're craft is...

Rick Morgan will fret later about how Twila got into this situation and all the danger that was involved. Right about now he's kind of preoccupied with the fact that there wouldn't even -be- a safe place to put her at this momment. "Well guess there's only one way to find out..." he grunts, starting up the ladder, revolver going ahead of him. Down below, one can hear the grunts of Mason as he struggles under his temporary imprisonment. It won't hold him for long. As Rick moves up to the next floor, he glances ahead, to notice the pilot's cabin....and where the two individuals within it are guiding the craft under the watchful eye...and gun barrel of another of the raiders. Who apparently -is- aware that something's going on...but wasn't willing to leave his 'prisoners' behind.

Twila Peterson glances downward and is sorely tempted to fire a shot off at Mason but isn't cleared to do so. Before following Rick fully up she fires at at a spot above the trapped cyborg, forcing a small beam to come falling down in his head. Not waiting to see it if hits or not she hurries to follow after Rick, then presses against the opposing wall so hopefully neither of them would be spotted if the mercenaries turn back. She then glances towards Rick, her features marked with that famous unvoiced question, "What now?" already trying to come up with her own idea in mind.

And there isn't much time.

Rick Morgan narrows his eyes slightly, mind racing at the moment. There can't be -that- many more of them right? Far as he knows it might have just been Mason and the two raiders. Or maybe another one or two. As it is, he makes a motion for Twila to move back out of sight, before cupping a hand to his mouth.

"Hey they're making a break for it! Somebody stop them!"

The desired effect is indeed gotten, and the remaining merc turns back, hesitating for just a second before moving forward and from the cabin, giving a growl to the pilots.

"Try anything funny and I'll blow your freakin heads off, got me?" And just like that, the man moves forward, weapon at the ready to apparently meet these two fugitives as they try to make their escape. As it is, he wasn't expecting the solid metal boot that's swung out and impacts with his shins, causing him to stumble forward and land flat on his face with a hard *WHUMP!*.

Rick dosen't give him time to recover. The soldier of fortune is barely pushing himself up with his hands than the Hunter delivers a hard punch to the side of his face, laying him out flat and knocking him out cold in true movie style.

"All right!" Rick mutters, grabbing the man's weapon for himself. "Maybe we have a chance of taking this thing back!"

Down below, Mason -was- starting to get free, when Twila dropped a beam on his back, effectively pinning him fast in the process. With a growl, he gropes about, trying to find purchase on SOMETHING or anything nearby. A smirk lights his features as he gets ahold of his heavy plasma rifle, pulling it close and hefting it up. A few seconds later, he sets it on full burst as he moves to simply shoot away the restricting access.

The series of blasts rip in all different directions, some going through the roof, some through the wall...and one through the opposite side, slamming out the hull of the craft and by that cruel twist of fate, impacting the left engine, blowing it to smithereens and causing it to sputter and die in the next instant in a belch of black smoke.

Rick barely manages to hold on as the plane lurches violently a second time. "Or...maybe not."

To her credit Twila manages to hold in a yelp as the the sudden movement. "Well, there there there goes that idea," she manages, somehow keeping herself standing. She glances back behind her for a second, then back to Rick, then the pilots. "On the way up...I think I saw how they had gotten on. Since they're taking this ride, why don't we take theirs?"

By now the pilots are well aware of what just happened, though for the moment they wrestle with the controls, trying to bring the big craft under some measure of stability again. It's all in vain however, as it begins a long nosedive forward, trailing smoke and sparks in it's wake. They abandon their posts then, struggling to move back to where the twins are against the G-forces that are starting to build. "Yes!" one of them speaks up. "A small attack transport. Yes! That is what they arrived here with! If you get us there we can fly it! We must hurry!"

Rick glances towards the pilot, arching an eyebrow. "What about the others?"

"They didn't make it..." the other man shakes his head sadly. But there will be plenty of time to mourn the loss of their friends later. Right now, there's a mission on hand. "They came in down the corridor. Cut a hole in the roof! Quickly we must go!"

"Don't have to tell me twice. Twila..." He blinks then, realizing he's about to give his own sister orders he might give a regular soldier. His hesitation is brief however. This -is- such a situation and...he hasn't goot a choice. "Bring up the rear, make sure no one comes up on us from behind." With that, he hefts his own rifle and starts forward, now moving towards th corridor itself.

Twila Peterson nods sharply, preparing to do just that, waiting for the pilots to follow suit before she holds the end of the line, nothing up her alert status even more so than it had been. If she's bothered or surprised that her own brother just ordered her like he would a grunt, she doesn't have time to dwell on right now. Besides, technically speaking, he is a superior officer.

Isn't that why he detests being called 'Sir' so much?

Rick Morgan is not a Sir. He works for a living.

It isn't long before the group make their way to where the hole was cut in the ceiling, coming up near it. The sound of their footsteps appears to be enough to set someone off, as a head suddenly pokes down. "Hey Mason I'm getting all kinds of garbled crap about...." His eyes widen at the last second realizing his error, as he begins to fumble about trying to get a weapon at the ready. He's too late however. It's amazing what a rifle butt can do to a person when applied directly. Stunned, the merc then falls out of the hole, crumpling to a heap on the floor. Rick takes a quick glance inside before pulling back and gesturing to the two pilots. "It's clear! Let's go quickly before we wind up a smear on the desert!"

The two men don't need another moment's encouragement as they do so, vaulting up inside and already putting themselves into the control seats. By then they're already starting to warm up the engines and release the docking clamps.

"Hurry!" one of them calls.

At that, Rick nods towards Twila. "You next..."

With no time to dispute Twila offers a dip of the chin before heading towards the craft by the route available...hoping her brother doesn't try any heroics and merely follows very soon after her. "Then you," she states firmly.

Rick Morgan glances up at Twila and gives a quick nod, along with a small smile. "Hey, it's me..." he offers. No sooner has she gotten up inside than the craft -does- lift off suddenly, staring to pull away. Eyes wide, Rick makes a last second jump and grabs onto the edge, fingers tightening just in time as he starts to feel open air under him....

...and then something tightens around his right foot, and he feels an EXTRA heavy weight hanging off of him, as his grip on the inside of the smaller plane suddenly becomes more strained.

And as one watches, even as the smaller craft lifts up and away from the cargo transport, Rick dangles underneath it...and hanging onto -him- is none other than a certain other cyborg, snarling in his pursuits.

No sooner than had Twila made it inside she noticed her sibling having his own difficulties. She would ofer to help him up. But first, there's a need to rid themselves of a certain pest. Holstering her taser she clicks off the safety of the gun she had taken from the intruder she had downed and aims it downward, getting ready to fire on the unwanted cargo. "I'll tell you once. Let. Him. Go," she warns with deadly intent.

Rick Morgan groans, his grip on the edge stil holding, but starting to become more painful with each passing second. As it is, he's can't even say anything, concentrating everything on just holding on with his fingers...cause if he lets go, it's an awful loooong fall. And this time he didn't bring a parachute.

Mason glares back upwards, still holding on as that one metallic eye of his adjusts...and he snarls, looking at Twila evenly. "Or what?" He leers, moving as if to start pulling himself up. "You think I haven't watched you both since the last time!? You think I don't know what you found out that last night!? Oh I've seen, I know. Believe me...you haven't got the guts to do it! And as it is, I only need a second to myself!" With that, he holds onto Rick's leg with his free hand, drawing back his cybernetic arm, and holding it at the ready, claws flashing for a brief moment....

Wrong, Mason. Very wrong. She gave him his one final chance. And he refused. Offering no words, her face set in stone she pulls back on the trigger even as his arm is raised. Then the shot rings out.

...followed by a second...

One might call it a look of shock that passes over Mason's visage, as the first shot impacts with his shoulder, hitting the fleshy part and...well, the wound resulting is what one might expect from a bullet. As it is he suddenly falls, fingers loosening, but not quite letting go at first...desperately clinging on.

The second shot is all that's needed. It hits his metal arm...but the impact is enough, and his fingers let go, as he tumbles away freely, suddenly entering outright freefall as he twists and turns, arms flailing about wildly before he disappears completely from view, lost to the vast expanse of the sky. The last words heard can be his dwindling, "Nooooooo!"

Now without the extra weight, Rick groans, pulling himself up...and inside the craft painfully, rolling over onto his back and holding his poor beet red and throbbing fingers up in front of him, as he takes in gasps of air. After a long moment...

"...for what it's worth..." Rick says haltingly. "...I'm glad...you didn't hesitate for long..."

As soon as Rick's free from his nemesis Twila puts on the safety and offers what aid she can to help him in side, pushing the incident within the back of her mind somewhere when she's more able to deal with what just happened. At the moment, her mind's too focused. "Rick, your hurt seriously?" she questions, looking him over for any sign of more than relatively minor injuries.

Rick Morgan grunts, sitting up straight. "My jaw hurts like something fierce...and I don't think I'm ever going to play the piano again like I used to (not that he played it in the -first- place), but I'm allright. Just aa little..windblown." He glances back out the hatch, before giving a sigh, now having caught some of his breath back at least.

Twila Peterson nods slowly before leaning to the side and closing the opening with a sigh. She then returns her attention towards Rick. "Just let yourself catch a breather, kay?" she states, preparing to withdraw some supplies which may ease some of his discomfort. Her eyes drift towards the gun once more, only to tear themselves away as she busies herelf.

Rick Morgan does concentrate on catching his breath as such, giving a slow nod as he leans up against the panel behind him. After a few long moments, he finally glances up, eyeing Twila carefully. He knows what she must be thinking. "You did what you had to do..."