[u][b]Lake Tahoe, Nevada[/b][/u]

[img]https://www.gotahoenorth.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/snow_mountain_night_stars_winter_640x440.jpg[/img]

Seb chuckled, hearing her proposition. He was on skis, rather than a board, staying to his natural craft for today. He carried his Faction Dictator 4.0 Skis over his shoulder as he walked up to the top of the piste, sitting down as he clipped in, adjusting the black Picture helmet on his noggin, and the blue. He wore a blue and black ski jacket and wore his yellow and black Mammut mountain pack, and Black Crows dull yellow salopettes, no goggles required for this run here. He had a pair of powerful white chem lights strapped to his pack, just for additional illumination too. On top of of his helmet sat a bright xenon light, which lit up the area like mad, being slightly more powerful than car headlights, for more visibility. In the areas they were going in, when they were out of bounds, it was needed. It was lucky the moon was out, or they wouldn't see shit. It was going to be slow, and gentle slope down. They were off-route, and this was going be technical indeed.

OST, We Belong (ODESZA Remix) 
[youtube] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd9cLU_oixU [/youtube]

"I'm up for that. But I feel like backcountry might be better. There's those pine forests on the left before it comes back to the main route. Think you can hack it?" Seb asked, chuckling as he took his Faction poles, chuckling as he strapped them around his wrists and took them tight into hand, looking into the horizon, and at the moon. 

And with zero provocation whatsoever, he howled, a perfect wolf's howl, as he raised his nose at the moon. And after a few seconds, almost letting Ellie chuckle it off, he heard a distant call as he heard the singing of wolves howling in the distance, quiet but audible, as he laughed.
"Holy shit, there are wolves out there....well, just don't stop." Seb said with his classic mountaineer's spirit, as he nodded, making sure not to point the shiny beam in Ellie's face, as he let her go first, letting her roll down first, as he quickly picked a steeper line, darting over. The snow was melting, and thinner than he would have liked, turning into icy mush. The red sandstone stuck out in particular, with the grey granite that was prominent in this area, it was beautiful and somewhat surreal, especially given the fact that he was able to only properly see what was right in front of him, as he overtook, and took the lead.

Turning left as he flew past, he hit the kicker and pulled a cork 360, grabbing the side of the skis and gently pulling the manoeuvre, slamming hard into the ice below, the snow not like powder as it wasn't anywhere near as fresh. And it hurt a lot, as he stood it through, skidding down but still on both skis, braking hard as he knew Ellie would have the lead here now. Following her, the trees were coming up thick and thin, but on the steep slopes, that only made for some very creative riding, as Seb darted between pine tree to pine tree, taking air and almost clipping one, as he skidded hard, shredding ice and loose snow as he lit the way forward, following Ellie in the technical environment. The light and moon shone bright to show the way, and it was amazing, the snow was almost crystaline blue in the cold, and slaloming trees on skis  was just lucid, it was just so visceral and insane, as he had to keep on his shit, chasing after Ellie as he followed through the crests and kills of the backcountry. 

--------

Ross awakened, his eyes bleary, as he sat up.
"Shit..."

The nurse looked to him, nodding, watching as he recovered.
"Mr Hartley, take it easy. Your body is still weak. You've been out for about 12 hours, you fell unconscious." She said, as she knew the next question Ross would ask, given who they found close.
"Kimberly is recovering, Ross. Take it easy, and stay in this bed for now. Your ribs are shattered, and you've lost a lot of blood, among other injuries. You're not going to feel very well for a couple weeks, minimum." She said, as Ross sighed.
"Bollocks. Good to know. Let her know...I'm sorry."
"Why so, Mr Hartley?"
"I don't know....just let her know." Ross said, as he sat up, sighing out. She didn't know her family had come to visit, not yet at least, as he looked around, the TV on and showing some crap reality TV show, the Scot unaware of how long he'd been unconscious for.
"I will. You get some rest now. I'll bring some water and food in the next few minutes." She added, Ross nodding as she left, taking in the view outside of a parking lot, and then the general room, the atmosphere strange. He felt weak, whatever it was he had done to himself, it was way more serious than any injury before, he'd been shot once and even that felt better than right now. 

The phone on the bedside table rang rang, as he gently sat up, sighing.
"Fuck. That isn't good." Ross said, as he took it.

"Mr Hartley? We have a caller on the line, they say they urgently want to speak to you." The receptionist said, Ross replying as he got his voice back.
"Sure." 

The line held for a little while longer, till the line went quiet, and Ross heard a voice he did not expect to hear for a while. A heavily accented Scot, but a man that he wondered about the criminal underworld with sometime ago.
"Ross? Is that you?"

"Shit....Mark, you pick terrible times to call." Ross replied, as the voice on the other end chuckled, Ross wondering what the hell was going on. Mark was a criminal, a bad man indeed, someone who would kill people for a living. But an accomplice that Ross worked with. If Mark was the robber, Ross was the wheelman, able to get him out of anything. And he had been very, very good at his job.

Mark Torridon was a former Royal Marine, and one of the few that Ross respected in his old crew, the gang that worked from Barcelona to Bangor, London to Lisbon stealing, robbing and smuggling whatever people wanted, with Ross as the driver and Mark as the top man. He was a thinker, a shooter, and most of all, a very nasty bastard. You didn't cross him, but he had a healthy amount of respect for Ross, and knew that he'd helped him as much as Ross had helped him back. Taught him a few skills with a gun, even. And right now, his criminal friend was in need of help, so Mark had made the call. Found him, something he only would have done if the circumstances demanded it. 

"I know I do, son. Look, I heard about the accident through contacts, and know there's something more to it than whatever you saw. I know we said we wouldn't get involved in each other's lives, not after...well, you called it quits on the scene. Me and the lads know." His Scottisism was clear, given that Mark was a few years older than Ross, but obviously unrelated in any way.
"You know I had my reasons."
"You have a wee lass and you have far better things to do than hang around with us. Believe me, nobody is judging ye. I mean, Paul ended up in prison, Rachel did too. And I can't say I have it easy right now. But I want you to know, if you need help, I'm here. I know you're rusty, but if yer....well, I never did make good on what you did for me, back in the day."
"You're a good man to mention it. You do owe me. So why are you calling me, when I'm laying in a hospital bed, in Las Vegas?"

"You need a helping hand. The people that did you over, and the people you work for, I have connections in the underworld that tell me that you shouldn't have ever gotten involved. This goes beyond just normal criminality, my friend. These are some seriously fucking scary people. Whatever it was you were wheeling, those cases were gonna be wanted and it's lucky you're note dead because of that. If I had to give you advice, I'd say that you walk away. But I imagine that won't last long enough. Once the heat dies down, they'll find a way to cut any loose threads."

"Shit...how'd you know that?"

"Like I said, it's made waves over here in London. Same sort of shit has been going down, cases for racers, and while I know your courier work is good business, this is something far more high risk. Whatever is being moved, it's something more precious than the fucking world in there. You should have told me, Ross. This isn't small game. Someone saw you as weak links in that chain and took you out...it's been going on for long enough and now they found the right fall guy. They didn't kill you because that would have left a scene. You're two street racers in a serious crash with other vehicles involved, probably some gangland war to the local police. It's too convenient."

"You sound like a fucking nutcase. And how you know this is beyond my knowledge. Fuck, what am I saying, you're the intel nut, it's the only reason you're not in prison, and I know how to drive fast....but, I believe you. So what exactly are you proposing?"

"Well....I cannae say it all, but a little revenge is in order, isn't it? No specifics. Have you still got that stash, where we said it'd be back home?"

"Yeah. Grab it, take what you need. Not a lot of cash left there, in that one. But it'll get you to here."

"I can get to you. I know a man out there who can get us set up. These people aren't ghosts, but right now, I imagine they are going to be rather exposed before they go to ground with whatever they took. The contractor won't chase it, because it's too risky. But we can." Mark said, as Ross sighed, thinking about it.

"And what's in it for you?"
"You get revenge. And I get to sell whatever is in that case." Ross heard, as he was quiet for a moment.

"Look, maybe this is a bad time. You're probably hurt, and I know it's a lot. But I'm here for you." Mark added, as Ross chuckled, replying.

"Steal whatever is in the case? You're suggesting stealing from thieves?"
"Yep. What are they going to do, call the cops? Worst case, you deliver it to the original contact. He'll probably pay out anyway. Or not. Better than having yourself as a loose end. But, if you don't want to...I understand. You can hide from these people, it's an option but it will not be easy to do. Something I can get you help for too."
"You are fucking crazy. When this rib heals....fuck it, one last run. Get over here, we won't need more than us two, the crew won't help. If this needs a little flair than usual, I might know someone who might be able to help, anyway. She happens to be a rather useful escape artist where my wheels end. And in need of money." Ross said, as he sat up in the bed, nodding to his friend, though he was thousands of miles away on the phone.

"Got you. I'll text you a meeting point, and my contacts will figure out where they've gone. And what we can do. Get well soon, Ross." 
"Thanks, pal. See ye soon."