The smoke cleared and the Canadian with the LMG slowly came back around. He jumped a bit to hear someone call, "Friendly coming in." He might be abit strung out. A fight might get anyone at that point. Hayden watched distantly as things were gathered. And it's only as the discussion about potential prisoners being released that he finally starts to move again.
Slowly at any rate.
He pulls the spent drum mag free from the top of the weapon. Hanging it from his harness carefully, then groping for a new mag, managing to find one of the 30 rounders before managing to get it on the gun. He watches then starts to move slowly. Out towards the courtyard. Shaking himself once outside, looking up into the afternoon sun. He took a deep breath then started to turn, looking about getting some bearing in the scrapyard of the courtyard. Cages, real and makeshift. Some of them with piles of...well what looks like rotting flesh. Could be animal, could be human. Red pools of something dry and sticky. Hair and cloth sitting within them. Hayden makes his way towards the raised dais and the throne of scrap the woman had been sitting upon when they first met her. He stomps up there and puts a hand on the throne. Standing up there for a time just staring at it. And then a crash as he hurls the great thing down the stairs to the ground, one of the arm rests bending wickedly. He growls, "We are not the same, you sick twisted bitch!" He snarls and spits down on the throne, "You go to hell. I'll go to fucking purgatory. And while you burn, I'll rest in the cold neutral dark. Burn and waste away you disgusting hag!"
He's beginning to make his way towards the stairs, when he feels something catch his pants leg. He turns LMG at his hip, and looks down.
The shout he gives out, "Sean! Bethan! Kat!" When the other three join him, Hayden is throwing boards and pieces of scrap metal aside, buried under the pile are three large cages, within, about seventeen tired, but angry looking locals in one cage, and in the other two split between them are nine very abused tourists. Ranging from Brits, Canucks, Frenchmen, Scots and a pair of Germans. Looking tired, abused, beaten and very worse for their situation. One of the Canucks was the one to grab his pant leg, and it's that one a young man who's half hugging Hayden through the bars, babbling about the devil woman, "I got ya kid, I got ya. We're gonna get you guys out." He calls again, "Sean! Bethan, Kat! Come on, help me here!" He starts to hammer on the lock to one of the tourists cages with the hammer head end of his tomahawk. he looks over at his teammates, "We gotta get them out. They may not be an army but I'm not leaving them here!"
Meanwhile as the team work, several large SUVs roll into the area. Numbering twelve, each can sit atleast eight. Painted military black with tinted windows all around, looking to be quite well decked out. Maybe even armored. A few of them with a hatch atop them perhaps for someone to pop out and fire from within. It's all quite tidy as a para-military operation goes really. No markings on the SUVs give away who might be within. And through the fighting and the blockades they roll, in a few examples crashing through blockades like they're piles of paper clips rather then solids things found on the streets.
Still though Hayden works and finally with a crack he gets the first cage out, swinging the door open and starting to help the captives inside out of it, "Come on everybody come on, out quick and get out of the way."
Everyone here getting smashed, and Freya sitting there on her second bottle of something strong, and just then feeling it. She grins around the room at the party. This is merc life. You make love and party and be merry because you never know if the next op will be your last. IF the next op will have that bullet, rocket or 30mm round with your name on it. It might be etched into the side reading HE or Frag, or traveling in the blink of an eye from 500 meters out from a big bore rifle.
So a merc will take their peace where they can. Drink and eat and party. If your lucky maybe abit of tail along the way who knows.
She stayed up until people started passing out. And by then Freya was buzzed, but not flat out drunk. So she helped those who weren't out of it cart everyone back to their rooms.
And only then did the giantess herself head to her room, grinning ear to ear, she loved these guys. Loved working with them, this is prime ass team in the end.
You always start the day off with breakfast. It's the way things go, even if you're hurting. Even if you're wondering why you did something stupid the night before. But the best way isn't hair of the dog. Sometimes it's just some grease and something good to eat.
Ahhh and maybe...a hit of something to take your mind off ALL of that.
It's almost like life started to play the music in their heads as soon as her door opened.
The suit is...a thing of beauty. A charcoal black, with silver and platinum colored threads stitched in here and there giving it a sheen and metallic quality. The upper part of the outfit is a blazer, with the metallic threads creating a V formation that brought all eyes to the fact that it's closed with only one button...near her navel...and there is nothing under the blazer. No bra, no shirt for modestys sake, naw this woman knows what she's doing, and what she's putting on show. There is tanned skin on display and precious, powerful skin indeed, it's for all eyes to look at and damn does she wear it well. Her form fills that blazer out incredibly well, making it less lewd and more, I'm in control here. It also helps the strut she puts on says power. Knowledge. And Wisdom. And she knows it too.
The lower part of the outfit is a flowing loose pair of slacks, flowing and billowy in fact, and cut in a way that abit of thigh shows through a cleverly opened window in the side of the pant leg. A hint of a black panty if she steps in a certain way. Those silver and platinum threads glint and call attention.
Dear god the woman knows exactly what she's doing, and she's doing it right. As she walks into the living area, she looks around, her hair done up to show off her intelligence while also saying "Behold your goddess!" Freya's make uped face, just enough to enhance but not over done gazes around the room, "Pilar came through over night. I have two official invitations to the party. Myself and a bodyguard." She says this with all the confidence in the world, "A case of Jotunnheim's newest projects will meet us on site, so I can regale the attendees with our progress." She grins, "I'll be able to keep their attention."
Before action brief
Freya sits, not quite primly and not at all trying to hide the fact her blazer is designed to show more and more cleavage when she's sitting over bending a little, it's like she designed it to say "Look here not anywhere else. All eyes on me." She smiles brightly at Skye, "As I said Pilar came through, we're in Skye. Legit tickets in, and atleast distantly Pavel may not remember about me throwing him through that class wall. the HR and PR rep he talked too in Vale didn't say anything anyway." She nods, hoping that means it's all green. She raises his cup of juice and sips at it, wondering what everyone else has.
Oh lord the giant of a woman grabbed her helping happily...she'd been looking forward to this. It's a towering patty, with all the fixings, and maybe scriledgious, but there was mustard, mayo AND...relish on there too...no no ketchup...she's no savage.
And ate it all in about 1 and a half bites...
Who knew?
As Freya licks her fingers clean. All the while making little sounds of enjoyment and happiness...that would sound lewd if the context of a good meal hadn't already been established. She grabs the near finish bottle of vodka and tips it back finishing it off, "Emm, okay that was good." She's getting up and stretching...yet again doing things that might be construed as lewd...and seductive...dear god how is it her abs can move like that!? And...the hypnotic...bounce of....
Uh where were we?
Freya smiles and heads for her laptop, calling out when she's close enough, "Avidan!" The laptop beeps, "Call Jotunnhiem PR team, extension 98112, Pilar Naji." The laptop beeps, a messaging app blinking and a dial tone sounding. By the time the heavily bearded, man with the most striking of brown eyes picks up and his picture appears on the screen Freya is sitting in front of the laptop crosslegged. Pilar grinning and calling over the call, "Freya! Hello there my red head first love. Oh it's so sad you never took up my advances. It is good to see you." Freya grins, "Oh Pilar, I would have broken you, you know that. It's good to see you too." Pilar chuckles, "I would have gladly gone to my next life knowing my pelvis was shattered by a goddess made flesh! You are still on duty are you not? What do you call the company for?" Freya hums, "Yeah I guess that'd be a way to go. Someday, someone, somewhere...I'll just have to sneak them by Jamie. Anyway, I'm calling because, fuck...Pavel Andros."
The call is quiet for awhile, Pilar Naji's face going dark with anger and loathing, "Did he do something again? I can call the legal team if you want, pipe them through." Sounds like more then a few of Freya's team dislike Pavel. Freya snorts, "Not this time. No, I need..." she sighs, "I need an In to his party that's going to happen in a few days." And Pilar does an honest to god double take, and a confused pikachu face over the call. Finally finding his voice, "Freya...my dear girl, are you drunk?" Freya snorts, "I had a bottle of vodka and a burger I'd need another 2 bottles before I feel anything. No I'm not drunk. Though that can change. No...I need an in for a mission. Pavel may have ties to something Raven is working on. Skye and I need an in. If I can show up, with a bodyguard, we can operate as a distraction. I need to break out one of my cleavage heavy power suits, but we need an official in. An invite or a really good reason to crash the party and make a statement."
Pilar rubs his beard, "Well...we are due to renew our magnetic coil and secondary power generator contracts with Vale. I can send out a feeler or two, see if I can...no I think I can indeed get you an invite. Give me 5 hours. I'll have something to you, you and a plus one, my dear. I ask only one thing." Freya quirks an eyebrow, "Oh? A condition? Pilar you sly dog. Name it." Pilar actually blushes, "I want a kiss...a proper kiss...and...um access to your next lingerie shoot!" Freya snorts then chortles deeply, "You horn dog. Done! Get to work on Pavel's party staff. Get us an invite." She chuckles, "And we'll see about the lingerie shoot."
She then seems to remember where she is, and she looks over at the rest of Raven, "Oh...right..." And the giant red head blushes.
Micheal sat there tapping the top of his near empty thermos. Taking another sip of the still lukewarm tea within. He hums, looking at the still slowly playing footage on the screen and the lists of people who were around that night. It is a heady thing, a scary thing to know that you might be on the watchlist of someone that has it in for you. That's the only reason someone would place a mole into their group. Or so he thought right up until the moment Boss Bot says Mr. X might be a Diety. Not all Dieties are gods, some dieties are just really powerful spirits. The Voodoo Loa come to mind. Mike hums, "A diety." Raven sighs, "There are some bad eggs out there. We ought to know we sometimes get labeled those bad eggs." He looks at Whiskeyjack and Manabozho. Getting a tired pair of nods in response. Mikey smiles, "Still you have your good moments boys."
Mikey gets up and winces then stares at his still bound up arm, the magic burn from the night before still not completely healed. He takes a deep breath, "Alright Boss Bot we'll do what we can over here, my three diefic friends and I. But from experience I really don't want to be doing too much magic weaving when this burn is still relatively fresh. Doing too much magic weaving would likely turn this from a magic burn into a magic scar and I don't like the idea of losing access to a portion of my magic until I can get that scar removed." He sniffs then shrugs, "Still try and help anyway I can." He nods. And winces as Whiskeyjack grabs his bad arm and shakes it, "We have faith in you buddy." Micheal withstands it for about 5 shakes before he grabs Whiskeyjack in a headlock, "Cut it out you chucklefuck!" Whiskeyjack letting out a squawk and flailing as the muscle shaman holds him tight, "If I could only pop your little head off for that you piece o'..."
Mike lets him go though with a growl and then rubs the bandages, "We'll be good..." He looks around, "Yeah we'll be good. Faith in the team right?" He nods, "Lemee go pick up my kit and I'll be ready to go." He makes for the door, "And maybe apply a new bandage and poultice. This damn burn...really burns now." He chuckles softly. Heading out for now, plate and thermos in hand to return to the cafeteria.
Back in the room he was allowed to use he gathers his gear, making sure he has everything, his diefic friends joining him a few moments later to pack it all up properly. At that moment Micheal takes a second to peel off the bandages, and look around to make sure that creepy elf medic isn't anywhere to be seen, before reapplying the poultice, some padding against the skin and new bandage layers for protection. He doesn't want to risk it getting more irritated during the rest of the mission.
After that, he and the three dieties are marching down the hall. Mike has to stop and dope slap Raven for playing some kind of poppy-rap beat. The explanation having been the situation is like some movie hype scene when the heroes walk out. Mike had just groaned at the reference.
Festive,
PrinceAlexus,
Cyrania,
Izurich,
Pilatus,
Days,
MrSkimobile,
FourtyTwo,
Red Wizard