[hr][hr][center][h2][color=ed1c24]Astrid Norheim - Gungnir[/color][/h2]
[img]https://i.ibb.co/zNqp4vv/Astrid-Norheim.png[/img][/center][hr][hr]

[i]Somewhere ABOVE the Swiss Alps
Soaring like a fuckin' hawk…
14:30 Hours[/i]

"[b]60 seconds.[/b]"

The tiny speck of a black figure flying through the air paid only the littlest of attention to the computerized voice telling the time. Sure, it was a good warning to receive for someone falling like a sack of potatoes throught the air above the mountainous region of Switzerland, but this black-clad figure wasn't falling; She was gliding. Like the "La Serpentine" fascility which the gliding was aiming for, her presence up in the sky wouldn't raise to many brows. Perhaps they should, certainly they should. 

Astrid was gliding at speeds that normally would fuck your brains out. She, on the other hand, was the one doing the fucking. Figuratively. 

"[b]30 seconds. Prepare parachute.[/b]" 

Astrid's winged suit allowed for her to continue her descent, gliding towards a Swiss cliffside. To the untrained eye, the winged woman looked as if she'd hit the side of the mountain and become a Norwegian pastry. They would be wrong. Astrid raised her right wing, lowering the left, and instantly changed course, the g-forces jiggling through her gliding suit as she soared leftward of the mountainside and barely clipping the treetops that her descent brought her to. Astrid smirked to herself, her LZ in sight a brisk distance ahead of her. 

"[b]20 seconds till impact. Eject parachute now.[/b]"

[color=ed1c24]"Rookie numbers, Clair, rookie numbers."[/color]

The winged Norwegian assassin continued to glide effortlessly through the air, her black siluette now becoming visible to anyone standing guard inside the secret military fascility cleverly disguised as some Swedish Hollywood wife's L.A. mansion. This was her way of pushing herself to the limit. After all, she had been brought into Foxtrot Oscar for a reason, besides her great looks and killer skills. Infiltration into extremely hostile territory was one of them. 

"[b]10 seconds till impact. Eject parachute NOW.[/b]"

Coming into sight, Astrid's eyes locked onto a small circle marked on the grassy parts of Foxtror Oscar's runway, continuing to smirk as the computerized voice was about to warn Astrid again. Finally she ejected her parachute, decelerating rapidly and gently adjusting the parachute as she guided herself to the middle of the circle, like some high-precision ICBM fired from a British nuclear submarine, only more gracious. Her feet landed at just their mark, her landing catching the attention of several armed guards who rushed to tell her she had not been cleared for landing, only for Astrid to remove her helmet and waving her red-blue hair at them. 

[color=ed1c24]"I know you guys are impressed, buuuut…unlike you, I've got places to be and people to eliminate with my killer looks. Catch you later, you won't see me coming."[/color] 


[i]1502 Hours[/i]


[color=ed1c24]"So Jacobs, what does the fox say?"[/color] Astrid asked the first person (and fox) she saw as she followed suit into the lounge, now newly-dressed and hair washed after a safe flight. The Norwegian stepped around their resident First-Nations Canadian, giving the fox a quick smile as she judged its natural beauty as well as thinking back to when she'd shot her first with a .22 back home. That thing was still in the freezer, somewhere below all that mutton cranberries. To the two others, the Scottish claymore and Dutch stoner, Astrid waved cheerily and throwing herself into an empty couch. [color=ed1c24]"Good evening, ladies and gents. Nice day for flying, or what you think? I know. What's the situation, Skye? Need me to give the Dutch clog a kick up the ass?"[/color]