For Evolution


cardinal_icon.gif fedor_icon.gif xiulan_icon.gif

And the best and brightest of Humanis First!

Scene Title For Evolution
Synopsis An airline flight is interrupted by terrorists seeking helpless prey. Those they find are neither.
Date May 26, 2009

Somewhere Over Canada


You say you want a revolution…

Well, you know,

We all want to change the world…

This far north, people know the canned ham. Its one of the most famous airplanes still flying, to bush pilots anyway and easily the most famous twin otter. It'd run stuff all Anticosti island, and made countless runs to Havre Saint Pierre some years ago. So its no surprise that Fedor hasnt bothered with turning on his GPS or even so much as glancing at his map since leaving Teterboro, this is practically his backyard. As familar as he is with this place, so are the people who live here with his plane. The only brilliant red and white Twin Otter to operate in this area, and certainly the only one with nose art. When it passes from the salty sea, over the shores of Anticosti Island its greeted and properly so with the warm waves of a few men perched atop an ancient lighthouse. Fedor drops the side window to wave back.
That said no Twin otter ,no matter how famous they may be, could be called luxurious. Its loud and bumpy and slow, but at least now its pretty roomy in the back. The walls and ceiling of the cabin covered only with a thin veneer of balsa, thats been brilliant decorated by the crayons of children from all over the Arctic circle. Most of the floor is barren save for three lightweight seats that've been bolted into the floor. Fedor was kind enough to hang a trio of hammochs from the ceiling before departing atleast, and truly they provide a quality of ride that aside from the noise is really quite exceptional!

Upfront in the cockpit, Fedor is verymuch in his happy place. Smiling so broadly so as to risk permenent disfigurement. The dials and guages are all mostly ignored, as he deftly navigates this familar track. Sliding over the forest, wood and clearing alike at just a thousand or two feet above treetop. Its a beautiful sight beyond the double thick aircraft windows too, unspoiled wilderness. A familar sight for Fedor, perhaps not so much for his companions.

It's in one of the hammocks that Cardinal's made himself comfortable, stretched out with both arms folded behind his head, the seat swaying and bouncing with turbulence and such. He's only fallen out twice so far, and now he seems to have managed a sort of equilibrium on the flying.
"I've been talking to a couple people 'bout my plan," he calls up to the front, "I think I can manage to get together some support for the whole heliport and floating barge airstrip thing we were talking about."

While flying is certainly not Xiulan's happy place, she is, at least, warming up to it. That much is clear from the way she watches the scenery out the window, a faint half smile touching her lips. Unlike Cardinal, she's opted out of the hammocks prefering the safety of one of the seats bolted to the floor. Course, she has had no end of amusement whilst waiting for him to fall out of the hammock yet again. Hey, it's funny, what can she say. It is the conversation being had that draws her attention back to her companions, one brow arching faintly as she glances at Cardinal. "Floating barge airstrip?"

"Thats excellent, if you can get merchants to partner with us I am very confident we can pull this off."Fedor has been somewhat at arms lenght over the whole idea but finally after Cardinal's success getting his parts he was starting to really warm up to things. "I have two big Bell 412s in storage we can bring over, we'll have to run alot of surveys to see where we can build a heliport but thats nog a big deal really."
The big Otter rolls smoothly to one side, and then the other as it skirts over a tall mountain. Finally gaining abit of altitude, and rolling the flaps completely out to set things up for a slightly more economical cruise. Something that no Otter, much less the muchly modified Canned Ham was happy to do. "Come up here and get a headset on, so I dont have to scream back there. I'm gonna lose my voice before we land at this rate."

"I was talking to one of the successful merchants on… oh, fine, fine…" A roll over, and Cardinal lands on his feet this time, flashing a grin to Xiulan before walking up along the length of the plane to the cockpit, leaning forward to grab hold of the headset hanging on the seat, "Old man. Your lungs going already?"

Snickering quietly, Xiulan gives a faint shake of her head, her brows twitching in response to Cardinal's grin. "You two don't /always/ have to talk business, you know." Regardless, she stretches out comfortably in her seated, her arms folding loosely over her abdomen as she turns her gaze back out to the passing scenery. "So, what -is- in Newfoundland anyway?" Besides sheep, that is.

"Your the only one not buckled in, young man so speak kindly to your elders lest I show you how acrobatic a big bird can be."Fedor glances over his shoulder, smiling brightly to Xiu. "My favorite house, Figure we'll spend a few days up there to get things worked out. I have an old AA5 sitting around in a barn up there, which you and Card can get some time in. Its one of the most beautiful places to fly around, and theres tons of different strips. Make you into a pilot real quick."Fedor's attention diverting back to his control panel. Trimming the controls up a touch to adjust for a lessening fuel load.

Far from the noise of the cockpit of a low-flying aircraft, noises of an altogether different nature rise and fall. The sound of insects buzzing and chirping within a densely packed coniferous forest mingle with the noise of birds. On an outcropping of rock that ploughs across a low hillside, a single man perches in observation of that very treeline. A pair of black binoculars remain pressed to his brow, a walkie-talkie set on the rock beside him. «Matador, do you see the bird?» The question comes crackling over the walkie, eliciting a hissed response from the weathered old man viewing the sky above the trees. As binoculars are lowered from pale green eyes, he snatches up the walkie and depresses a button on the side.

"Roger." His voice is thick and coarse, the kind a lifelong smoker attains. At that simple, single word, four men in camouflage hunting attire emerge from the treeline behind the old man, faces smudged with paint in earth tones, mesh hoods pulled over their heads, colored with those same diffusing patterns as their clothing. Wordlessly, one of them tucks a walkie away as they begin ascending the balding spot of the hill's northern face, getting clear of old pine trees.

The old man watches the four with a wary look in tired eyes, then hastily packs up his binoculars and radio, moving down from his perch to begin descending the hill to move into the forest. "That's it," one of the camouflaged men states, dropping to a knee as he retreives an oblong olive-drab cylinder from the top of his overstuffed backpack. The other three men move clear, and begin the macabre task of shedding their jackets, revealing underarm pistol holsters, and begin checking magazines of ammunition.

"We'll have a safe zone of forty-five minutes to finish this," the man holding the cylinder states, his fingers brushing over the yellow stenciling on the tube that reads 9K32-STRELA2. He pivots the tube around, shouldering a long portion of it, while handling a pistol grip in the front, one eye closed as he trains his focus through an iron sight to the silhouette of the plane against the sky.

A curt nod comes from one of the other men as he slaps a clip into the bottom of his gun, looking up with tense brows at the plane overhead as it rumbles across the sky. "For the future," he intones, followed by a murmured chorus from all of the others as they watch the shoulder-mounted surface to air missile launcher slowly follow the track of the aircraft.

A green light turning on and a soft beep signals that the infra-red tracker has caught on to the twin-otter's heat trail. "For humanity," comes a revised intonation, as the trigger is depressed fully and a loud foomp noise erupts from the device as a missile launches several feet out of the tube, seeming to hang in the air for a moment as fins snap out from the side and a sudden flash of light accompanies the rocket's abrupt ascent into the air.

"For humanity," they all say in unison.

You tell me that it's evolution…

Well, you know,

We all want to change the world…

"Yeah, yeah," Cardinal chuckles, dropping himself into the co-pilot's seat and pulling the belt over himself after the headset's settled into place, "We can't spend too long out of town, though, we both got shit to take care of back in the city - Xiu's got a business to tend too, after all…" Unknowing of what's coming, right now, through the sky…

"I still cannot believe you have convinced me to learn to fly, Fedor." Xiulan's smile is audible in her tones as she slants a glance toward the cockpit. "Course, I am not about to say 'no' to that." She has, after all, become rather fond of the notion. It is the bright flash of light that stirs Xiulan to blinking once, her brows furrowing in consternation. "Did you see that, Fedor?" Mind you, it's probably nothing, but even so.

"Did I see what?"

The Strela's aircooled head has trouble finding the Twin Otter truth be told, and for a moment it even looses the track completely before reacquiring. In a second its spiraling flight path widens, it swings wide and then above before impacting into the rear of Engine No.2. The explosively formed penetrator, cuts a neat hole in the PT6 turboprop whilst spinning. It siezes as its torn apart, its mounting structure immediately torn asunder. The engine stops so fast, that the blades seperate from the rotor head partially save one, which neatly flashes into the cabin itself in a wad of high carbon steel.
The engine itself isnt done yet though, nearly unbolted and now essentially a speedbrake it rotates foreward before breaking off and tumbling overtop of the wing. Fuel under pressure pours into the atmosphere, igniting instantly in a noxious cloud of fuel and hydrollic fluid. The bushplane is a tough bastard though, and remarkably it holds together.
Instantly the bashed bird rolls upward, its right side dipping as every single buzzer and warning light begins to sing or flash depending. The entire hydrolic system is purged, and then burned clean in just five seconds. The fuel meanwhile continues to burn.
"Chto zu huy!"Fedor's permitted an outburst right? As the big otter begins to threaten a flat spin he firewalls the remaining engine and rolls the yoke to one side. Trying desperately to throw away altitude for airpspeed.
Speaking of acrobatics right, the big Otter rolls completely onto its back before pulling through in a real messy loop. Flaps drop, for lack of hydrolic pressure and as soon as it levels out the stall sirens silence.
"Mayday mayday, this is Chicago Airlines Flight nine six two I am declaring an emergency. Catastrophic engine failure, I'm going down. I'm going down hard. Mayday mayday this is Chicago airlines flight nine six two I am declaring an emergency can anyone hear me?"Fedor's voice, is ice cold. "Everyone buckle up, we're going down hard."

Yeah, see what? Cardinal's barely managed to click tab A into slot B and secure the straps about himself when he leans a bit, neck craning to look towards a glimpse of motion from the corner of his eye, a glint of reflected light off something — just in time for the missile to slam into the engine. "Mary mother of…"
The further response is rendered silent by the sudden shriek of metal tearing through the cabin and fire erupting from the engine and the wing. As the cabin swings 'round into a loop and gravity takes a holiday, he manages somehow not to vomit, twisting to shout back from the cabin, "Xiu! Hold the fuck on, we're goin' down…!"
Yeah, because she probably hadn't noticed yet.

A string of Mandarin that can only be cussing pours out of Xiulan's lips as she is momentarily blinded from the impact. Cussing doesn't stop her from twisting in her seat, however, or from pulling the seatbelt tighter across her lap. As the Otter does it's belly roll, that cussing grows louder still only to settle into a muttering grumble as she regains her composure and glares out the window. Lovely, they are going to crash. Yeah, not so keen on the thought of flying at the moment is Xiulan. It is only once she has taken a deep breath, held it, and released it that she sighs. "… that bright flash of light that just slammed into the plane is what." Yeah, they probably can't hear her. Heck, they shouldn't really be listening to her, but it doesn't stop her from answering all the same. Besides, there is metal tearing into the cabin and at the moment? Well, lets just say her knees reach her chin in record time. The tattoo artist is /nothing/ if not a human bendy straw. And yes, cue more cussing in Mandarin. Amidst, however, can be heard 'Ya think?' in response to the warning from Cardinal.
"Go!" Eyes pull away from a trail of smoke and flame as the camouflaged man holding the missile launcher waves into the woods. The three other men give a sharp nod, one by one breaking into a sprint as they rush into the treeline. Break away compartmentalization is a part of their training, a five man team, each with a clear responsibility and method of operation. this is what it was like for them overseas when they were serving their country, this is what it is like when they defend it from domestic threats.

Out of the woods, the old and weary-looking spotter who sighted the aircraft comes shuffling over, assisting in packing up the launcher. "Change of directions," he says in that gruff voice, "we're headed south to the shore, direct orders from Cipher." His eyes track up to the younger solider, who's uncertainty is only shown in his eyes, but never vocalized. Following orders, he gives another stiff nod and slings his restuffed backpack over one shoulder, looking up one last time to the quickly descending aircraft before heading in the opposite direction.

Deeper into the woods now, the three who broke away run along familiar territory, bounding over deadfall and splashing thorugh narrow streams following in the path of the rapidly descending aircraft visible through the bough of pine branches in spotty patches of sky and sunlight.
Fed loosens his straps, the plane suddenly far more difficult to control as it reverts to manual control cables. He plants one boot firmly on the dash, wraps his forearms around the yoke and begins to pull back with a low groan. He needed altitude if they were going to get the Canned Ham back onto the ground in one piece.
Its a sound course of action, with a light load and her flaps down the Canned ham should be able to claw its way into the sky oncemore. The first engine begins to sputter though, and then on comes the stall alarm as it finally churns to a halt. Then everything gets really quiet, except for that stall alarm.

And thats it for the Canned Ham. The right wintip catches first as she floats downard, sheering it completely off with a tremendous pop. Fed dumps the joke, and plants a foot ontop of it to now try and jam it back foreward to drop the nose. The Ham rocks foreward, her landing gear limply dropping into place just before she smashes to the ground. The impact is incredible, enough to fold both wings upward and jam the nose into the ground. Flipping the Ham once onto her back, then all the sirens and all the lights fall silent.

But when you talk about destruction…

Don't you know that you can count me out!

Don't you know it's gonna be — alright…

The ground's sweeping up rapidly towards them through the cockpit window as Richard watches, unable to do much of anything but watch as Fedor desperately attempts to stall the inevitable impact, his fingers digging into the seat's arm.

There's nobody in the co-pilot's seat by the time the Canned Ham hits the trees and the ground, and flips onto its back in its death throes. Just a shadow, clinging to the chair despite no light that's casting it, survival instinct causing Cardinal to reach for his ability. In the silence that follows, that shadow hisses into the dim confines of the crashed plane, "…everyone alive?"

"…Fedor.." Whatever Xiulan was going to say is lost as the wing is shorn off. For a moment, she can only stare open-mouthed whilst wrapping her arms about her updrawn knees. It is as the Otter hits the ground and flips onto her back that conciousness is momentarily lost, a rap of her temple against something or other enough to leave Xiulan blinking repeatedly and desperately attempting to claw her way back up out of the fog suddenly cloying her vision.And, while Cardinal's voice does float to her ears the effort of responding is outweighed by the effort of making herself right-side up instead of upsidedown.
The sound of Xiulan landing on one knee on the interior roof is promptly followed by a gusty sigh and murmured. "…I hope this isn't the afterlife, babe." Course, she's got a nice gash on her left temple and will probably have more bruises then she might like, but still… The upside is she isn't about to let the bruises show.
The spectacle of an aircraft flipping end over end through a pine forest is an amazing one. The noise is something unforgettable; that howling shriek of bending metal, shattering glass and splintering wood, it's the kind of sound one might imagine up in a particularly vivid nightmare. Shards of metal whip through the treeline in the direction of the downed aircraft's path, trees blasted apart into flinders from the collision of the fuselage as it skids along rocky soil.

Booted feet do not hesitate at the sounds of carnage, but bare hands slicked with anxious sweat tighten their hold on semi-automatic pistols as they begin to close in on the trail of destruction. A drizzled line of ignited fuel burns through the swath of destruction the plane caused. The three branch off, one running directly along the ragged trail of destruction the Canned Ham caused in its final moments, the other two flanking off into the treeline with thundering footfalls and panting breaths.

There are no words from Fedor, but there is anger. He jerks his harness, slides to the ceiling and begins a silent half stooped trek to the back of the airplane. "This was my favorite plane, ever."Is all he can think to say, before jerking two dzus pins on a panel of flooring by the aft door. What drops free, is the essentials for any bushpilot. Theres a small backpack containing his survival kit, A proper gunbelt and of course a small case.
"We were shot down, we need to get out of here before they come looking for us."As Fedor pops the case open to retreive a broken down lever action rifle. A few turns and its in action, quickly loaded with .44 magnum cartridges plucked off his gunbelt. "Are either of you two armed?" Considering he just crashed a Twin otter in the woods, he's really more irritated than shocked. Then again this is far from Fedor's first time being shot down.

"I'm always fucking armed, Fedor, I spend most of my time on fucking Staten Island," replies the hollow, echoing hiss of the shadow's voice as it swirls from the cockpit to spill along over the floor (formerly the roof) of the cabin in a rippling whirl of shadow over metal, "Who the fuck just shot us down? Are you sure that's what it was?"

Armed? The question stirs Xiulan to looking left and looking right. One. Two. Two arms. And just to be safe? One. Two. Two legs. All of which seem to be operational. Since she has no weapons to speak of, she shakes her head, one hand reaching up to brace on her upsidedown seat as she pushes to her feet. "I'm good," is all she says. Hey, you don't need a gun to snap a man's neck. It is as she makes her way toward Fedor that she asides to the shadow, "I'd guess who ever was on the other end of that bright flash of light, Card." Course, since there is obvious danger, her clothing and skin are already changing colors, even the strands of her hair altering to match the varied tones of the interior of the plane. "Can you go scout the surrounding area?"

Fedor slips out of the hulk with a dry cough, wincing as he glances around to try and get a lay of things. Yeah, the ham is dead. "I've been shot down before Cardinal, I know what it feels like. So relax, we're supposed to be fucking professionals. So act like it. Gather Xiu, and follow me. We need to get the fuck out of here, unless you particularly relish the thought of being put out of your misery?"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you too…" The shadow that is Richard Cardinal stretches across the cabin to the upside-down egress that Fedor just utilized, dropping silent as he marks the path darkly for Xiulan to follow; spilling out of the aircraft in a flicker, like a bird passing overheard, a pool of faint darkness in the grass.

Gather Xiu? "I do not need to be gathered, thank you." Huffed? Why yes, that was a slightly testy tone from Xiulan. She does, however follow the path provided by the shadow man, a sigh spilling past her lips. As she emerges from the husk of the plane, her coloring alters to match the surroundings, a faint frown touch the woman turned chamleon's lips. "Lets not get pissy with each other, guys." That won't do anyone any good. "Do you know where we are, Fedor?" Mind you, she's drifting off toward the treeline, her steps the careful kind of footfalls that make it clear she's ran from soldiers in the woods before.
It's almost as if this weren't Fedor's first time at the rodeo, because hot on the sound of his voice, the panting gasps o fbreath and hurried footfalls make it to his ears. Immediately followed by a barrage of gunfire pinging and clanging off of the fuselage of the Twin-Otter. Bullets come in through fissures in the side of the plane where trees tore open the aircraft.

Outside, two of the three gunmen open fire on what they can see inside of the plane, one moving in close to try and access the interior, while the other hangs back crouches by a tree, pistol gripped in both hands, taking shots mostly at shadows to serve as cover. The third man, however, keeps his pistol trained on the aircraft's right side, opposite of the other two gunmen, not firing, but keeping an eye out for movement. In his other hand, however, he holds a small digital camcorder filming the wreckage. "No one is immune," he continues his narration; words strained through clenched teeth. "No one who helps inhumans is immune. You, me, anyone. This could be you, these people's last moments on earth could be yours…"

You say you got a real solution…

Well, you know,

We'd all love to see the plan…

"Vaguely, we hit the coastline in any direction and follow the beach."Fedor abruptly cuts off when he hears folks a'coming. Goodness gracious, these fine gentlemen desire a firefight! Fedor does not turn or dive for cover, as a round dings into the wingspar to his right he just turns his head to casually spit out a tooth. Then, he hefts that lever action and gets to work. Working off a quick pair of shots aimed carefully through the short 2-7 optic mounted above the barrel, each bonded core .44 magnum had been loaded with the intention of putting down a bear or bull moose so he's not terribly concerned about a lack of stopping power when it comes to these yahoos.

The pinpricks of light that spark when the bullets hit metal are like tiny needles of pain into Cardinal's perceptions, the muzzle flashes painfully obvious in the night. The living shadow spills through the grass at the speed of darkness, a two-dimensional form flowing over earth and beneath foliage towards the sound of the shots ringing out in the wilderness. Seeking the would-be killers of himself, his employer, and his lover.
Someone is going to have an even worse night than him tonight. He plans to make certain of it.

Xiulan is all to happy to take to the cover of the trees. As she moves her camoflage changes, matching the patterns of the surrounding foliage as she cuts a wide circle around the fire fight. Since Fedor is hunting elephants, the tattoo artist makes a point to avoid his area of fire, instead opting to move as silently as possible toward the second gunman. Fortunately, with all the gunfire, there should be enough noise to cover any accidental missteps. And, with Cardinal out there, somewhere, ready to bring the vengeance of the night on some poor Joe's head? It's toward the second gunman Xiulan moves. Years of living in and amongst the Triad keeps her from hesitating when it is time to act. So it is, that the moment the gunman is within sight, he finds on himself on the recieving end of a round house kick toward the face followed by deftly executed attempt at relieving him of his gun…..
And, should she succeed? The beating him to death with his own weapon will commence. *cough* Punk.
Fedor's well-timed shot nails the approaching gunman square in the chest, and with the calibur of the shot and the lack of any form of body armor on the assailant means a horrible red spray out of his back and a few wheezing sucks of breath as he crumples backwards into a small brook. His gun falls to the side, splashing down into the water as Xiulan steps out over his body and to the further attacker from the fuselage.

Cover of trees and rocks isn't that much different from the cover of telephone poles and parked cars in an urban environment, and with so much of New York still being strewn with rubble close to Midtown, Xiulan is used to the uneven footing of the forest floor. This, however, the first real gunfight she's been in. Most of the confrontations the Flying Dragons get into rarely devolve to gunplay, and now up close to her attacker, the surge of adrenaline she feels at the threat of injury and death is like some kind of maddening high.

One quick motion of her hand snaps the .9mm pistol out from the camouflage'd man's hand, bending his wrist around before dropping him to one knee in that same leverage of his shoulder and elbow, fluidity expressed in the most joint-tearing fashion.

As he winds up to club him about the head with his gun, there's a loud pop from behind her, and another muzzle flash closer to Cardinal's ephemeral form, and the sudden shooting pain and searing heat in Xiulan's right leg is indicative of the spray of red and darkening of her clothing from a bullet that punches into her thigh.

The pain is unbelievable, somewhere between a hot iron under the skin and a dislocated shoulder being wrenched in the wrong direction. Reflexes and spasming muscles coupled with pain drop Xiulan down onto one knee in front of the man she had just done the same to, while the attacker who shot her shouts into the camera as he angles it towards himself. "This is what inhuman sympathizers get! This could be you! This is for humanity!" Riled up as he is, the shouting gives away his position to Cardinal and Fedor as easily as the gunshot did.

You ask me for a contribution…

Well, you know,

We're all doing what we can…

In front of Xiulan, the man she dropped to a knee rises up and slams a fist into her jaw, sending her sprawling onto her back, even as he withdraws a combat knife from his belt, climbing on top of the young woman with the blade held backhanded. His first instinct is to try and get the gun away from her, blinded by his own fear of winding up shot. Forgetting the quick trick she pulled with his wrist and elbow, and that every part of the young woman is equally as deadly as the firearm.

Fedor's killed enough men in enough gunfights to know how this goes, he holds the forend of his levergun in his left as his right hand drops to his beloved Model 29. Whipping the ancient .44 revolver up to snap off a single round at the camera man. A second followup coming soon after, this time taking the time to cock the Model 29 and fire with careful aim. "I mean, really?"

Cardinal trusts the old russian and the martial artist to be able to fend for themselves; in this business, you have to, or you're a corpse already. That's why he's broken off from them, one of the gunmen's feet moving right over the shadow that slides through in search of what passes for their leader, unseen in the stark shadows contrasted with the occasional muzzle flash of gunfire. Then Fedor's bullet strikes home, and the killer thumps down atop the living shadow, blood spilling into the darkness as if feeding it.

There. The foam-flecked ranting of the cameraman draws his attention, and he flickers through the grass towards him. The shadow reaches upwards from the earth behind where the cameraman's trying to avoid return fire, fingers and an arm stretching up as if reaching through a black trash bag before Richard pulls himself corporeal in a crouch there. He rises smoothly, gun pulled from the underarm-holster beneath his jacket, as the fanatic's ranting continues.

"And this," he snarls out, bringing the gun up smoothly and firing off two rounds at his back, "Is for Evolution."

The shout of pain that erupts from Xiulan's lips is wordless. It is also angry. Very angry. Granted, once the fight is over, she is likely to collapse, at the moment, however, the only thought infusing her entire being is to do as much damage to the man atop her as is humanly possible. Since she is already on her back, Xiulan uses her attacker's momentum and drives her uninjured knee directly up into the soldier's delicate nether bits. And while normally, she might pull such a shot, this blow is given everything she has and is purposefully designed to flip him over in a neat reversal of their positioning. Rather then bother then gun at this point, Xiu's right hand matches the motion of her knee, her fingers stabbing directly into the man's throat as the left arm grips his right to guide his momentum into her throw. The moment he is going up and over, Xiu is following, her teeth bared, and murder in her eyes as she does her level best to grab his head and snap it around so he is looking at his own shoulder blades.
The last thing the cameraman sees is the glint of firelight from the Twin-Otter on the chromed barrel of Cardinal's heavy pistol before the deafening sound of a gunshot at point blank range becomes the sound of his funeral. A spray of thick, syrupy brown-black sprays across the side of the fuselage, followed by a hefty and dead weight collapsing to the ground. The camera falls free from twitching fingers, boucning on rocks and rolling to a stop before pointing upwards at the sky, taking in now the serenity of the heavens above and the contrasting horror of gunshots and screams mixed with crackling flames.

On the other side of the plane, the sickening snap of muscle and bone and the tactile sensation of a broken neck beneath bare fingers is on some primal and visceral level exactly what Xiulan was searching for to offet the pain and growing warmth by her now shock-numbed leg. Blood flows freely from the gunshout wound, pulsing a rich crimson down her thigh and onto the mossy rock beneath the man she just brutalized. His body goes limp, and with that gunshot she can see the flash of through the wreckage of the plane and the heavy thump, the silence that comes next — to her — means that the immediate fighting has very succinctly ended.

Who would have guessed that a commercial airline would be filled with hardened killers.

Not Humanis First, that's for certain.

But if you want money for people with minds that hate,

All I can tell you is brother, you'll have to wait,

Don't you know it's gonna be… alright…

With a flourishing twirl, Fed holsters back up. Calmly cycling his lever action, before shouldering it. "See, collected."Fedor retorts, finally to Xiu's protest. Calmly, sliding overtop of a chunk of wing before coming to her side."Grab his gun."Commands Fedor, though at this point he's hardly going to argue. He just scoops Xiu up and rises with a soft grunt. "well then, I hope I havent put you two off flying?"as he begins a slow walk towards the far end of the field.

Perhaps not completely hardened. As Cardinal lowers the gun, his hand is shaking just a touch. The third life on his conscience - not that he really has much of one, and it's never been other than in self-defense of some sort, but it's still not an easy thing. A breath's drawn in through the nostrils, exhaled slightly unsteadily, and then he clicks the safety on his pistol back into place and holsters it. One step, two, and he reaches down to collect the camera.
"Fuck your humanity," he mutters under his breath fiercely, gloved thumb pushing 'off' before he clicks the camera shut and shoves it into his pocket. Then he goes to find the others, calling out, "Everyone all right?"

And Xiulan promptly crumples, so much for the hardened killer, right? "Fuck." The very American cuss is hissed as she presses her palms over the gunshot wound in her thigh, her vision already blurring by the time she manages to look up in search of Fedor or Cardinal. "We really need to call Abby…." And that's about all she manages to say as adrenline fades and pain rushes in to take it's place.
At some point it will sink in that she just killed a man. Hopefully when it does it will come with the knowledge that he would have happily killed her. At the moment?
At the moment, she is being scooped up by Fedor and all she can manage is a squeak of pain, a hiss of annoyance in response to the pain and a sigh as she drops her head on his shoulder and tries not to pass out. "I need a cork," is hissed between clenched teeth.
Across the field, near a downed log Fedor sets Xiulan down. The forest is quiet again, filled only with those peaceful nature noises. From his little E&E kit comes a packet of quick clot and an israeli bandage, after mopping up the excess blood Fed expertly applies one and then the other. Frowning just a touch, before producing his little SPOT transmitter and cranking it on. "You know whats funny Cardinal?" Fed rocks back some, shoving two rounds in his carbine before drawing his Model 29 to change out the two spent shellcasings there. "I was all, Oh I dont want to wear my Breitling today. Heh, and here I am feeling silly for it."

"Jesus Christ…" At the sight of the tattooist in the russian's arms, Cardinal breaks into a quick jog to catch up, his brow darkening with worry - and anger. Catching up as she's set dow, he drops down to a knee beside her, helping Fedor with the medical care while swearing under his breath. "We'll call Abigail when we get back into town, motherfucking… Humanis First? How'd they even know to target us?"

"Good lord, are you talking about /SHOES/?" Okay, so Xiulan doesn't know what a Breitling is, sue her. She does, however, immediately wrap her hands back around the bandage- and yes, Fedor had a bit of a struggle to get her to let go of her leg. "I have got to get this healed." She urges almost frantically to cardinal. "How the hell could I explain a gunshot wound?" Okay, so she's gnawing over random things, sue her. "I feel like I am going throw up." It's all the warning Fedor gets before she does exactly that. Fortunately for Fedor and Cardinal, she does manage to twist to the side and hurl over the log rather then in his lap. "I wanna go hoooooooooooooome," is the forlorn little wail that emerges from under the tangled mass of Xiulan's hair.
"I doubt they knew it was us, they prolly just wanted somone who was from Chicago air. We're very pro evolved."Fedor's smile is absent for the moment, as he tucks the spot away. "If they knew who we were, they would have sent way more than three people. It'll be important to hold onto the camera, because the FAA will really need to see it."He sighs softly, peering at Xiulan. "We cant cover any of this up, its way too big. Nobody here has warrants, Cardinal has a very solid identity which the FAA wont read into because he wasnt flying the plane I was. You two will be asked what went down, and then thats it. I'll be the one under the magnifying glass. So all we have to do is relax, and chill out."

Cardinal looks up from where he's helping support Xiulan's head, his brow furrowing a bit. "She's not exactly a legal citizen, Chief," he says in quiet, tight tones, "And I'm wanted by /Homeland/, not just by the cops… if they send a terrorism investigator out here, and he recognizes me, we're all fucked. I need to get her out of here, at the very least."

"Um. I'm an illegal alien, Fedor." Blinking up the Russian, Xiulan looks more then a little concerned at the mention of dealing with the authorities. "And the Dragons do not know I am evolved." And she'd rather not have it on the nightly news, thanks. Slanting a glance at Cardinal, the worry in her expression is clear despite the fact that she is white as a sheet without the use of her powers. "I am not risking being sent back to China." No way. Course, Card is supporting her and she sighs, wiping her lips with the back of one hand before leaning against his side. "You can't stay," she murmurs in response to his last.
"Do you know where you are Cardinal, we're in Canada. Homeland security wont be coming here, nor will immigration. Your employees, legally of a legal company. The FAA is a licensing body, not a police force. They do not care who you are, just what you saw."Fedor settles back, looking back at his plane. "She's too tore up to hike across all of creation, we need to stay by the plane. I got out a mayday, I have an emergency beacon I just turned on. We have food, water and I'm going to setup an emergency shelter. We'll be ok, I need you two to trust me alright? I deal with the FAA every day, my pilots crash all the time and I have to deal with it. I know exactly how this works."

"Yeah, well," Cardinal notes rather dryly, "We did kind of just kill the fuck out of the assholes who shot us down, Chief. Don't you think they're gonna want to check into that?" He sighs, shifting a bit to let Xiulan lean in against him, "Alright, alright. If you're sure you can handle it. I'm not goin' to fucking prison, though."
He turns his head, gaze lingering where the bodies lay, lips drawing into a thin line, falling silent. His thoughts, whatever they are, clearly aren't pleasant ones.

Sighing, Xiulan dips her chin in a faint nod, her lips parting to say something that is never actually given voice. Why? Because she finally passes out, that's why. Hey, if the FAA need her, she's there and smelling salts aren't impossible to find. For the time being, it's wait out rescue, so not a shabby naptime, all things considered.

"They shot us down, we have video proof that they attacked us and we're on Canada's version of the wild west. There is no police out here, there is nobody to investigate you. I am the licensed pilot, I am the one they care about. Just tell them what happened, its not like these guys are allowed to investigate you Card. If you tell them your John Doe, your John Doe."Fedor sighs, unzipping his little E&E pack to produce a spaceblanket style little tent and a crinkly space blanket sorta sleeping bag affair. "Slip her inside, and she'll be fine. We stopped the bleeding, we just need to keep her warm."

"Idiots." The pack's taken, and Cardinal gently lays Xiulan down before starting to set it up, his head shaking slowly from side to side. "They think they're scared of us now? We haven't fucking done anything yet. They keep this up and they'll see how fuckin' low on the evolutionary scale they are…"

"Dont take it personallly Cardinal. Thats the hardest part, but dont take it personal. Get emotionally invested afterward, but right now just dont get too worked up about it." Fedor sighs, he says dont get emotionally invested but he looks like somone just ran over his dog. "When we get emotional, we get easy to predict. "

There's silence from the shadowman as he carefully settles the injured woman into the tent with the blanket draped over her, to keep her warm. Cardinal ducks back out from it again, taking a few steps away and gazing at the wreckage of the ship. "I told Cat that there was going to be a war, one of these days," he says quietly, "And that I'd be ready for it. Well, I think that war's getting a hell of a lot closer every day, Fedor."

"No, not a war." Fedor sighs, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes. "A revolution."

Don't you know it's gonna be… alright…



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