Day 2: 06:19:51
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

But with a grin he look at the holy glad ang, "well long time since I've seen one of those. Let's go." He tests the door now as Felix stacks beside him, "Clear..." and edges the door open enough that Felix and get the flashbang inside, "Let's make some noise yeah?"
[/quote]

Prepped up, Felix nodded, giving a silent, but simple response. "It's a crowd pleaser. Set. Upper team, moving in." Pin peeled, the knurled purple left his hand and bounced off the metal cabin wall, before settling, Felix making sure to shut the door and point his head away. Once, he'd been flipped with someone inside by catching the light. And well, that wouldn't be much for for either of them. The light flashed bright white and pink, like something from a certain film series when the ark was opened up in front of the bodies.

The men inside screamed, as all of them stumbled, one falling over, utterly confused where he was. Blind and literally flipped in position in the sorting cabin.

A Holy Flashbang had the effect of inverting positions, a classic Kalan trick that their Riot Priests would use.

So, the goons inside would be flipped, and it made Felix and Silas entering, with shotguns, basically able to shoot them like fish in a barrel.

Except two versions of Felix entered. One going right, another left. It was a mindfuck, inside a mindfuck. If he was a lion right now, this would be why Felix was disgustingly capable in getting through doors.

One, two, three, four.

By the time they were done, Felix having taken the two on the left with the Masterkey, the room was a much grimmer shade of red as the bottles now went by covered in blood, the Libolian flicking new buckshot into the shotgun, stepping over bodies, trying to PID them. "More PSA. Uniforms track with what they had ten years ago." Felix added, as more gunfire could be heard, not at them, but from below.

---

“Give it a minute, then tell me if shooting me in the chest works or not.”

"I'm a seer. Not someone who tells you the obvious, because right now, you're two, maybe three vodka bottles away from unable to organise a piss up here if you want to stay as a pointman." Roxie poked back, looking back to the other witch for ideas, rather than problems.

She listened to Rowan, seeing the witch try to seer herself. It wasn't as effective. It wasn't going to work. But, she was creative. That she had to say.

She grinned as she had a thought. “Well who said we had to use the door? What if we went through the wall instead of the door? I still have some acid left. They might notice that before we got through. I could freeze the wall and then channel a lightning bolt into the wall causing it to shatter inward.” She turned to Borys with a smile. “There might be some collateral damage though. You wouldn’t hold that against me, right?” She made a blow up motion with her hands to indicate shattered bottles.

Oksana's eyes rolled up into her head again, as she held onto the railing, before phasing back in.

"Okay, this is what I saw...."

--

The vision was clear. The frozen metal suddenly shattered as Borys charged through after the lightning bolt, shotgun man drawing fire onto him, as Roxie aimed for top of thorax, 9mm shredding the unarmoured neck of the Altyn-wearing nerd, the breach so unexpected that the PSA militants inside were drawn out, any fire on Borys, and luckily, that meaning Rowan and Oksana had clean ability to shred the others, with clean, tactical fire. Within seconds, bullet casings were on floor, as she shrugged.

"Huh. Just like I thought it would."

This wasn't a vision.

Reality played out rather nicely, the version of it Roxie could imagine at least, this particular breach, this particular version, perfect to inch.

As the chaos stopped, Oksana picked up the Saiga-12K, and threw it towards a pissed Borys, it bouncing off him given the knock, as she put hand to face. "I'm so fucking stupid." She said to herself, realising in every version of reality, Borys wasn't gonna see that coming. But she wasn't exactly seeing in that moment, she was too busy seeing something else.

They'd made noise and the fire alarm went off, and well, the machinery was at a halt.

---

"We've stirred the hornet's nest. Let's capitalise on shock and awe, we need to punch out of the distillery and find transport. Weapons hot." Felix called into comms, the breached room left behind, wanting to make progress. Sooner they got through, the better.

With it, Silas and Felix kept the high road, staying on the gantries as bullets flew, bottles smashing as Felix slid into cover, switched to the 417, icing a few more PSA militants that came in, regular fire working, as he bolted from point to point, still not feeling like he could switch. Nor wanted to. For now, at this range, a rifle was perfect. A lion was not fitting through those doors, after all.

Downstairs, Oksana's team had cleared out, and were now in the production area- the bottling plant's various conveyor belts, and more PSA militants were filling in area.

"Contacts front!" She called, as bullets smashed bottles, Oksana diving into cover and grabbing one, throwing it and using it as a nice distraction to get an enemy in cover covered in shards of glass, before aiming at their exposed leg, enough of an opening for her to relocate and reload, before waiting and picking them through the sheet metal. Clambering over the production line, Oksana found cover behind another machine panel, as the machines suddenly whirred back into life, the conveyor belts continuing.

"Ah, fuck! We need to shut it down, we can't cross safely.....ah fuck it." Roxie sighed, taking out another militant that moved in, wondering just what on earth they were doing here. She knew nothing on drugs, but why put psychoactive substances in these? There was no way they had anything ready based on the trains and looks of things, so it must have been a discussion. An armoured recon that was met by the force of a load of armed wizards and witches.

"Me and Silas are approaching a control room, we might be able to shut it down! We've got eyes on hostiles massing, they're bringing shields!" Felix called out, from on high, the gantries now being busy with hostiles, as they fought through the halogen illuminated factory, still headed towards the main element itself- the distillery, on the far side of the cabins and conveyors they were at.

Oksana saw that coming, and dodged as one of them sprayed at her with an SMG behind a tactical police shield, Oksana bareling into cover and firing at the legs, dropping the enemy into a killshot, before backing down, her vision getting absolutely shitty.

---

"Rowan, see if you can use your acid on the shield goons, blyat! Borys, if now was a time to get shitfaced, it would help!"

Oksana was disgusted by saying those words. But, for the latter, it as perfection.

---

Felix meanwhile, stuck close with Silas, the shapeshifter dumping mags and switching to one of his last three, aware he had to be careful, aware he couldn't be burning through this much. He switched to the Masterkey on turning a corner past a machine, blasting an enemy to the abdomen then head as he fell forwards, pushing him out of the way to get back into cover, as more gunfire rang out, Felix and Silas having to go through a conventional gunfight, but, Felix happy if Silas could pull something off here on the higher gantries.

Day 2: 06:19:51
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

---

”I'm a seer. Not someone who tells you the obvious, because right now, you're two, maybe three vodka bottles away from unable to organise a piss up here if you want to stay as a pointman.”

“I’ve been fucking sober between the morning until now, what the fuck?” He protested. It was a lie. He wasn’t sober, he was still hungover, it had been a grand total of six hours since they boarded the train. It was the closest he got to sober these days.

A combination of Polavian lack of fucks to give and a solid 0.12% blood alcohol content mean that Borys didn’t even flinch when Rowan’s lightning bolt zipped past his head, the thundercrack switching his left ear off for the next ten minutes but he didn’t need that right now. The buckshot pellets slammed into his chest making him stumble sideways, holding down the trigger as he fell, not hitting anything but at least drawing more attention away from the two witches behind him.

He wanted to swear, but what came from the floor was impotent wheezing as his lungs tried to remember how to work again after the equivalent of nine 9mm bullets point blank instead. He allowed himself 20 seconds before he hauled himself up to his feet, dropping the half-spent magazine and replacing it with one from the AKS-74U-equipped militant. That was when something big hit him.

Borys looked at the Saiga. At Oksana. He pointed at the shotgun. “If that had been a P320, someone would be dead right now.” He bent down to pick it up. His booze-soaked inner ear betrayed him, his backpack shifted on his back and Borys faceplanted on the floor. “You didn’t see fucking anything.”

They kept moving, no longer under stealth, all of Polavia knowing they were there.

”Contacts front!” She called, as bullets smashed bottles, Oksana diving into cover and grabbing one, throwing it and using it as a nice distraction.

“STOP SPILLING THE GOOD STUFF, MOTHERFUCKERS!” Borys roared in the harshest Polavian imaginable, dropping the offending PSA militant with a reflexive shot. He kept moving forward, arms and head tucked in to focus on being durable rather than lethal, scanning for red buttons and shutting off machines as he went to try to minimize distractions and blockages for his team.

”Borys, if now was a time to get shitfaced, it would help!”

“Cover me!” He knelt down, taking a few long chugs of Rowan’s wine. “Smooth stuff, Rowan! I’ll take your entire stock!”

That’s when he noticed it.

The polished stainless steel machine he was standing next to.

The halogen lights shining down onto the polycarbonate riot shield, making the factory’s interior reflect in it.

Making Borys reflect in it.

He crouched, grabbed his baseball bat instead of his rifle and stepped into the machine, stepping out of the shield face like it was a small door. “Privet.” He simply said, pushing the shield down with one hand while clobbering the militant over the head with Yelena, not stopping until she was stained red and moving onto the next militant.

He did not need to kill them.

He just needed to get them to turn his way and away from his teammates to negate the shields.

He’d decide how much friendly fire he’d forgive.

Day 2: 06:19:51
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Rowan had been making sure she was a useful member of the team. She used her electrical elemental magic to short out the camera system as they came across them. She had been doing her best to compartmentalize and shove the fact that it felt like everyone was hunting her to the back of her mind. They had more pressing problems at the moment such as how were they going to get out of this vodka plant without all of Polavia knowing where she was and guessing at where she was going. She couldn’t help but feel like a sitting duck during hunting season. Rowan didn’t like that analogy for herself. Her ego and self esteem were kicking and screaming at the unfairness of it all. The practical side of her sucked up and got down to the business of working with the team in an effort to break free. Hopefully without others identifying her and chasing after them.

Rowan had stacked up with Oksana as she used her seer powers to see into the factory floor. They had come up empty from their search of the administration office. They didn’t find any usable intel that stood out as important or unique. Rowan did snag a copy of the shipping manifests just in case for the future. They might be able to intercept some deliveries to help Borys stay stocked up. If they were on the run already, they might as well use all the advantages they could muster. Rowan had tried to use her own powers in an effort to spot where people were in the other room. That turned into an epic fail that gave her a headache and an upset stomach. She recovered quickly enough but the technicolor swirl of nausea made her regret that choice. She shook her head as an evil grin crossed her face as she outlined her next idea.

Borys listened to Rowan lay out her plan. “I’ll take the door, get them to look at me, you make a door, mop them up. I like that. I mean, I don’t, but I’ve made peace with my Craft long ago. Alternatively…” He tapped the gas mask case he carried and held up one of his tear gas grenades, “You take a breather and I commit assault and battery.”

Rowan: ”There might be some collateral damage though. You wouldn’t hold that against me, right?”

Borys: “I can and I will.” He grinned, standing up with a slight wobble, his left hand hovering near the door handle. “Ready on you.”

Rowan had outlined the plan and made sure everyone was ready before she began casting.
Her hand curled around the handle of her whip. The length of it coiled into her hand ready for use. She stretched out a hand towards the wall and you could feel the mana in the area surging towards Rowan as she channeled it into her spell. Frost visibly spread across the stainless steel wall of the factory. The frost became ice quickly and spread into an area large enough to create a large hole in the wall. She then quickly cast a lightning bolt aimed at the center of the frozen area on the wall. The wall shattered and the force of the lightning bolt blew the wall inwards towards the guards on the other side. Chunks of stainless steel wall catching some of the guards unaware.

Borys waited until she gave the signal before he stepped into the doorway to draw their attention. Then all hell broke loose as bullets were flying everywhere. People were yelling about shutting down the conveyor belts. Rowan joined in the fray as they fought to take out the guards that had stood in their way. Her whip lashing out left and right. She didn’t need to kill them, just disable and disarm them.

Felix sent a warning over the comms. "Me and Silas are approaching a control room, we might be able to shut it down! We've got eyes on hostiles massing, they're bringing shields!"

Borys and Oksana were in the middle of the firefight. She couldn’t help but giggle madly as she heard Borys yell.

“STOP SPILLING THE GOOD STUFF, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Oksana: "Rowan, see if you can use your acid on the shield goons, blyat! Borys, if now was a time to get shitfaced, it would help!"

Rowan couldn’t control the giggles as heard Borys’ reply to Oksana.

“Cover me!” He knelt down, taking a few long chugs of Rowan’s wine. “Smooth stuff, Rowan! I’ll take your entire stock!”

Rowan just smiled as she began unleashing chemical hell on the unsuspecting PSA. She began to launch potions at those carrying shields. The potion bottles broke spraying a fast acting acids across their shields. The shields began to smoke and melt. Many of the PSA, realizing that their sturdy shields were melting into a volatile puddle of goo yelled and threw their shields towards them.

Rowan gave an evil cackle as she let loose with another potion. “Don’t tell me how to witch! If I wanted rules I would go to church!”

Rowan winced as she heard a PSA guard fall into a conveyor belt full of bottles with the loud crash of glass accompanying the now blaring fire alarm. “That was not my fault, Borys!”

Rowan considered electricity against the shields but they were made of a nonconductive material. Acid was her best option.

Silas shouldered the door open. A single soldier on the other side reeling, while others beyond him staggered. The rest of the team breached below.

Silas raises the big KS23, shouldering it, bracing, and still it pushes him onto his back foot, the massive shotgun, sending heavy buck shot into the soldier. And sends him sprawling, leaving his left shoulder and left side of their chest a red mangle of human hamburger. Silas coughs, "Here I am, having dug my hands into the belly of a reeling man, and seeing someone get hit by this gun still makes me a little queasy."

Silas and Felix picked their way forward, firing and moving. Silas covering for Felix. Felix letting Silas move up. He grabbed then slugged Felix at one point healing him from a ricochet, "Close quarters it's fun!" He growls, "Ah hey Malaka!" He shouts as he rounds the corner and hig big ham fist caves in the jaw of a PSA grunt charging them. No healing magic though, that was all impact. The man still manages to kick one of Silas' legs out making the big medic go down, and luckily dodging the ripple of fire from an SMG ahead of them. Silas lays into the decked soldier a few more times, "Stay..." he hits him, "Down..." hits him again, "Or...." again! "Else!" He ends with a big hammer blow, the grunt will survive but wish he didn't. By then Silas' ire is up, good and well, his knuckle dusters blazing into healing light then he forces it down, saving it for the team, "Medical Call out! how's everyone doing!? Ah Putanas yos! Try and stay safe until I can get to you!" He crows into their comms.

Ahead the control room. Movement inside. He waits on Felix, "Windows and doors...we can try a dynamic entry, one of us take a window the other shoulders the door?" Below the shield soldiers. Silas leans over the gantry points down and peppers some of the shield-men below with the big 23mm, 6 guage shotgun, "I want to get very drunk after all this is over!" He growls, then readies back up on the door, dodging fire from below.

Day 2: 06:19:51
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Shite. Shite. His cover’s blown.

Well, blown’s relative. They’ll still have some trouble.

“Feck it all,” grumbles Upswing, pulling back his rifle and shrugging it back to his shoulder, “don’t get paid enough for this.”

He makes a rather crude-looking hand gesture and makes a point out of his mind. In a hissing burst of light, about a dozen illusory tripwires spring into existence over the door leading in, in the hallway outside, on the staircase leading up to this floor. It won’t be much help once they realize they aren’t real, but that’s why one of the wires over the door–and the hand grenade it’s attached to–very much is. Standing, he turns and bellows in the most Scottish accent known to man, “OI! ‘YE DIDNAE CATCH ME AND ‘YE NEVER WILL, ‘YE PINKO CUNTS!”

Before the Polavians can give their own impressive selection of profanities back, Upswing’s already pitched himself out the window, catching himself on the sill with his hands before he can fall. He looks down; too high to jump, not high enough to risk climbing down the safe way and getting caught. He used to be afraid of heights, you know, but jumping out of a C-130 gets you quite used to taking a risk.

And a risk he sees. A balcony on the second floor, one down, about a five-foot horizontal jump. It leaves him with a choice; either go for the balcony and risk snapping himself in half on the railing if he under- or overshoots, or drop twenty or thirty feet and almost certainly break a leg.

Well, what’s life without leaps of faith? Upswing, with a heavy grunt, swings himself to the side hard and pushes off, landing flat on his ass smack in the center of the balcony. “Ah, fookin’ A,” he groans, standing and rubbing his tailbone. “Look what ‘ye made me do.”

“Let me see your hands!” comes a voice from inside. Upswing lets out a mother of all sighs and turns, hands raising, to find himself face-to-face with a kid in PSA uniform, shaking hands holding a shaking Kalashnikov. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen; shame, damn shame.

“‘Ye don’t have tae be here, ‘ye know,” says Upswing, “‘ye can leave. Wouldn’t blame ‘ye.”

“Don’t talk!” says the kid, muscling open the door to almost jab the rifle’s muzzle into Upswing’s chest.

“That’s how it’s gonna be, then,” Upswing says, shaking his head a little, “‘ye’re too close.”

Maybe the kid might’ve had something to say to that, but he doesn’t get the chance before Upswing slaps the gun out of his hand, sending it flying off the balcony. Before the kid can do anything but scream, Upswing’s already grabbed his pistol. There’s a short, sharp clicking noise, and a smoking casing hits the floor while the kid falls back, a smoking hole right between his eyes. “Mum’s worried about ‘ye,” says Upswing, holstering his gun and starting to climb down yet further, “shoulda stayed home.”

From the second floor, it’s trivial to drop down and start running, and Upswing’s already gone into the bushes by the time the deafening blast of a triggered grenade rings out over the landscape from the apartment. In the brush, Upswing’s armor fades into it like a chameleon, and he slips away undetected, moving as quickly and quietly as he can towards the bottler.

Ptick, ptick. Ptick. Ptick, ptick, ptick.

The few men still manning the perimeter near Upswing’s point of entry fall with quiet, rattling whimpers, as he drops the muzzle of his AS-Val. Judging by how the inside of the factory sounds like Stalingrad, there’s a good reason the patrols aren’t too numerous right now. Knife in hand, he rifles through the bodies, putting those simply mortally wounded out of their misery while he grabs their spare ammo, taking an AK for his trouble; no point being particularly stealthy. While he’s digging around, a loud, stuttering report of gunfire breaks through the factory wall behind him, and he drops to the floor with a loud curse, the contents of which would be inappropriate for written reproduction. Belly-crawling, he moves closer to the gunfire, hoping to rendezvous with Morgana and reasoning that she’s probably wherever they’re trying to shoot. Once he comes up to a side door that seems close to, but not in the middle of the fighting, he reaches for his gas mask and puts it on while he reaches for one of the pink-striped smoke grenades on his belt.

“This better be fookin’ worth it,” he says to himself, shaking his head as he racks the bolt on the Kalashnikov, and then he reaches over and smashes the handle off the door with the butt of the rifle, knocking it open and tossing in the grenade. There’s a pop, and as oozing, pinkish-purple smoke creeps out, Upswing bursts in, firing at anything and everything that moves.

Day 2: 06:25:01
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Ahead the control room. Movement inside. He waits on Felix, "Windows and doors...we can try a dynamic entry, one of us take a window the other shoulders the door?" Below the shield soldiers. Silas leans over the gantry points down and peppers some of the shield-men below with the big 23mm, 6 guage shotgun, "I want to get very drunk after all this is over!" He growls, then readies back up on the door, dodging fire from below.

Felix nodded, as close to a growl as he could muster.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it!"

Felix turned, the ginger-haired soldier turning into a lion as he led on that movement and immedately lept onto the gantry and around through window. Silas might have expected he would crawl into position, but with a lion, it took a lot less.

As Silas would take the door, Felix was already chewing on the arm of someone, before releasing and no longer playing with his food, taking a solid bite of the man's neck, before shifting out and spitting a massive lump out of hs

"Urgh." Felix added, looking to the SCADA controls of the production line.

"Oh. We should stop this." Felix added, kicking aside the half-neckless guy in the way on the console, and keying in the controls for the machinery, finding the override, and the stop button for the whole production. No longer were empty glass bottles being poured vodka into from the gigantic distillery tank, with a gigantic press working to seal and complete the lid, nor was a label being printed and slapped onto the side of each, nor was the export labelling either being made. It all halted, and on the other side, down below, the bottles stopped moving.

---

With Rowan melting shields and Borys literally appearing out of them, short work was made out of the PSA shield goons. Borys was on the wrong side, acid melted their cover, and Oksana could basically spray into them like they were at a target range. Even with 9mm, she could tear through, yelling swears as she dumped an entire mag into two of them, acid on shield and Borys with a baseball bat (and collecting bullets) working to clear them out.

It was getting messy, as a goon fell in glass and the clink was loud, followed by the fire alarm.

Rowan gave an evil cackle as she let loose with another potion. “Don’t tell me how to witch! If I wanted rules I would go to church!”

Rowan winced as she heard a PSA guard fall into a conveyor belt full of bottles with the loud crash of glass accompanying the now blaring fire alarm. “That was not my fault, Borys!”

"Glassed his ass, Rowan!" Roxie called, liking her new Western friend a lot. She was good fun, and if they weren't killing people, Roxie had a feeling that Rowan would be a great time to get really, really drunk with. An agent of chaos, creating that from order.

Another magazine, and a couple more flanking PSA troops didn't last long either as Roxie held the flank, firing down from one gantry to the others while Rowan and Borys pulled shenanigans.

It didn't take long to clear them up, and with a few more bursts, Oksana had slung her PP-19 in exchange for an AKS-74U, scavenging a few mags off the last dead PSA goon that she managed to get a flank on, literally seeing that he was moving from cover to cover before he had.

Make do, and mend.

Moving through the production line, the catwalks and the metal walkways were beginning to end as they were headed towards the start of the process. Towards where the visitor centre was, and the massive pile of sugar cane and rye grains sat in a remarkably clean arrangement before they would be loaded into the distilling units. Vodka was often made of many, many different things, but Polavian Standard was a classic, vintage, bespoke product that didn't fuck around with cherry, or flavours- that was left to the mixologists that played with them in bars. A vodka that was world-renowned for being exceptional in quality, so having a firefight in their production line was surreal to anyone who had ever sent a shot down their gullet.

It was there that Felix headed down a metal stairset, 417 held at cant as Oksana met him, the two fireteams reunited once more, the production heading towards massive distilling vats, and what looked like a observation point.

"Looks like we have a window of time to leave." Felix suggested, as Oksana pointed forwards to the tour centre's viewpoint.

"Yes. A window. Idiot." She replied, pointing at said window, at the end of the gantry, with a small gap between it. Picking up a nearby vodka bottle left off the start of the production line, she threw it, smashing it to bits. That was their portal out of the factory complex, and instead of going down into the loading warehouse, a chance to escape through a visitor centre.

"Window open." Oksana dryly smiled, the only thing she had left now, in her arsenal apart from some dead goon's pinewood-furnished AK and the ability to see a few seconds into people's bad decisions, was sarcasm.

"Fine." Felix sighed with a certain sigh, just absolutely fucking done, looking at Borys with a look of "don't say anything, you prick", as with it, they could move through this bit of the factory where visitors could actually look in.

With a leap forwards, Felix clambered up the side of the railing and leapt into the window, trying to avoid shards of glass, offering a hand to Oksana who lept next, the two covering the others as they came inside, and The Story of Vodka was now a part of what they had seemingly entered.

Felix didn't really have time for education, but he did think it was about time they got the hell out of here.

---

The team moving forwards, they were now in half-factory, half museum, from old casks to the factory line still being a door away. From one of those lines, a group of hostiles emerged, forcing the team into cover. Felix ducking behind at least a 100 year old distillery tank, Oksana behind a metal conveyor, bullets flew as the PSA militants swore at the group.

Which was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Upswing killing a whole group into a gas grenade made a scene, suddenly eliminating the threat that the team was facing, all of them dropping dead in a haze of purple, with a armoured up, ex-spy walking through in a shimmery, hazy sort of look.

The group, and Upswing were suddenly at odds when the pink-purple-punk like smoke cleared, revealing the brooding looking, ex DSR Intelligence looking figure. He wasn't dressed up like Felix, a soldier, nor Oksana, part-bush, all seer. In the tour centre, they weren't friends, even if the enemy of their enemy seemed to be a convenient help.

Oksana looked with steely eyes, her AKS-74 raised still, knowing he had Craft. With something like that, and a gas mask on killing PSA, he wasn't here for a shot of vodka with the lads and lasses of the team.

"You're not with them. Who are you?" She noted, keeping a rifle pointed direct at him, the closest to him. She would see all of it coming. She'd be faster than him if he tried something. Or at least, whatever illusion of him he projected. Felix was nicer.

"Holy shit. Cal." Felix chuckled, his own rifle high. "Been a while. Given you're not invisible. I guess you're not here to kill us?" Felix added, pointing the 417 down, the capabilities of Upswing maybe not known by the entire team, beyond rumour, but known by Felix. As a Team Lead, he'd know other people, particularly casters in Reactor. And Upswing was one such character. He kept hand to rifle, ready anyway....

Until the far end of the room suddenly was opened up by the sound of the rocket propelled grenade, blowing apart the entire wall, as concrete and wood crumbled, revealing another figure that nobody expected deciding to interrupt this little arrangement.

As the Adidas wearing, dark-eyed Warlock, her boots clattering on concrete, stepping over a few bodies, a few other balaclava-wearing mooks next to her, AKS-74Us raised, was in view. She barked at her own people, let alone the team likely wondering who to shoot.

"Comrades, weapons down." She simply announced, walking forwards, looking at them. "You interrupted a business meeting. I will interrupt yours. Including you, Borys Skala. Alcohol poisoning hasn't gotten you yet."

"Didn't know it was business." Felix replied, Upswing between them in crossfire, all parties holding guns at each other. She knew Borys. That was already a bad sign. Guns at each other was worse.

Like some really fucked up Mexican Standoff.

"Well, causing me so much trouble seems to make it mine." She had the sound of a haggrid old woman, despite the fact that beyond the shade of the hood, she looked Borys's age too.

Felix kept his rifle raised, almost a growl coming from his throat. Oksana realised this was a three way standoff. Them, Upswing, whoever this woman was.

Until Oksana piped up. Looks like she knew her too.

"Yelenka. You honestly think he'll pay?" Oksana asked, recognising her. Yelena Strulovich. Former PSA Lieutenant. All round bitch. Last Oksana heard, she was dead, but then again, Polavia seemed to be killing any of those rumours of late.

"Are you being paid? And you hired Borys?" Yelena replied, as if she was almost asking the whole team.

Oksana sighed, shaking her head.

"No! But, I'm trying very hard to survive and you are not helping! Fuck, you think we want this?" She replied, with a Slavic dryness to it, almost something that could be funny that could be taken seriously, but was just pure, dry sarcasm.

There was almost a quiet in the standoff, Oksana taking a moment to break that silence.

"You and your.....dogs should get out of the way. Whatever the fuck you're planning, we don't care. We just want to get the fuck out of here and leave." Oksana replied, hinting she knew something. Felix looked to her, wondering why Oksana, not him, was taking the lead. But she knew him, so fuck it, why not.

"I don't think you can. You killed a lot of my men. And your lion killed Olygarkov. He was a good man." Yelenka replied, the black robe Adidas like a dryrobe, a bandolier and a kevlar vest on, in Adidas print. She had black hair, and looked not pretty, but like she also had an alcohol problem too.

"He was an asshole! Dude was more corrupt than a necromancer bringing back loan sharks!" Oksana yelled back, the scene at the village reinforcing just what the rumours confirmed. A yes-man who was willing to commit to some seriously questionable shit. Who was eaten by Felix. Not a bad outcome, all things considered. Which Yelena seemed to agree with.

"Okay, he was a greedy asshole, but it doesn't change the fact your cat went through him like a kielbasa! So give him and Rowan over and we'll be done!" Yelenka yelled back, revealing almost a bit of her face as she stepped in light, the exhibit she was standing next to funnily enough, a history of Polavian drinking culture.

"No chance."

"Enough. I'm done with your shit. And whoever....you are. You came for Rowan Morgana too....and brought her to me. I want her first. If you won't give her up, I'll take her in pieces." Yelenka replied, putting hand away from rifle, and to air, looking at Upshot and Borys in particular.

And with it, she seemed to summon what seemed to be a pack of ghost dogs, before Felix lined fire at her, before Yelenka dived into cover and her goons sprayed fire down range.

"You're that kind of warlock! Pizdets!" Oksana yelled, watching as Yelenka was out of Felix's view and it was clear she seemed to have the craft that allowed her to pull in a set stray ghost dogs and to blink her way into cover. Even Oksana was struggling to keep up with her, but it was clear she couldn't move forwards. Fucking warlocks.

Felix was not having much fun either. A cat person against dogs wasn't ideal, but, it was what it was.

The warlock flanked, and whilst she was not alone, she retreated, letting her goons and her dogs do the work. They weren't beautiful, nice pets, they looked like rabid strays, the kind of dogs that she was terrified of as kids. Dogs had different connotations in Polavia- rather than the cute pets of the DSR and Liboli, they were often left to their own devices and no doubt Yelenka had some trauma associated with one, as roving bands of strays were not friendly to people. Not exactly the most pleasant of memories, but nobody with Craft ever did.

Sometimes, Oksana wondered how the fuck you got your craft, but that thought was arrested by her having to unload half a magazine into a ghoulish looking mutt that ran up the steps around a factory display to her, she didn't want to know, but it was what it was.

"Shit, Felix, plan?!" Oksana barked, laying out one of the men as she moved

"Fuck knows, we need to leave! Now! Upswing, you with us, or you here to kill Rowan? There's a queue for all of us, make your call now if you're gonna do it, cos I'm so fucking done with this shithole! No offense, Borys!" Felix yelled, spraying rounds down range, pulling Upswing into cover from where he'd been, looking the DSR native in the eyes, his wild, lion like eyes coming back out, as Oksana kept up suppressing fire.

"There's an emergency exit there, Felix how many dogs is she sending at us?!" Oksana yelled back, the dog barking as she felt felt her inner animal lover was being tortured right now. This was awful! How the fuck did someone have a craft this bad? This was like, worse than any nightmare he was in, even as a feline shapeshifter himself, what on earth was fucking wrong with Yelena?

The team had a chance to take out the rabid dogs, the goons being sent by Yelena, but she was taunting them the entire way. The dogs were of course, phasing out the moment a cast hit them, but the damage felt very lethal.

"Feast on them! They're nothing but food!" She cackled, as suddenly, the museum of vodka was turned into a warzone. With cover in place, Felix used a copycat to deceive one of the ghoulish dogs, but there were far too many. This was not an easy fight at all, not unless someone had a creative idea, or at the least, someone took the initiative to get them the hell out of here.

Day 2: 06:25:01
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Rowan Morgana

---

Rowan was doing her best to keep track of the action. Things switched into high gear rapidly. She had used a spell to freeze a large section of the wall before shattering it with a lightning bolt to attack the guards from behind as Borys drew their attention from the doorway into the room. She used her whip to disable and kill guards as she attacked from behind. Her whip yanked their guns off target and slashing out at hands to make them drop what they were carrying. The situation rapidly devolved as they ran into more PSA guards inside the factory with heavy shields. Felix and Silas had managed to make it to the control room on the upper level to shut down the conveyer belts. Bullets and flying potion bottles were being exchanged in a comical mix of modern technology and magic that looked absolutely ludicrous to witness. Rowan had given up on trying to minimize collateral damage. It was all about survival and getting out of this damn trap that was baited with excellent vodka. The fire alarm was going off now. So much for getting out of the factory without others knowing. If they didn’t know there were intruders on the premises before, they did now! Between gunfire, explosions, and screaming it was a wonder they hadn’t been overrun already.

Rowan ducked back into cover just in time as a bullet whizzed by her head. She continued to move deeper into the factory. She was trying to make it to the other side without being trapped. She was grateful to be using her potions and whip to give her mana some time to recover. She then stopped and smiled as she looked at the belt full of open top vodka bottles on the way to the bottle cap machine.

A burst of gunfire followed by angry cursing hosed the bottles behind her where she had just been. She snickered in glee with mischief in her eyes as she grabbed an open full bottle of vodka and chucked it hard at the guard she had moved closer too. She pointed her finger at him and chanted under her breath as sparks left her fingers towards the guard now covered in vodka. The guard screamed as he exploded into flames. Rowan pulled her pistol and shot the screaming guard in the head. She ducked back down behind the conveyor belt as she tried to get a sense of what was happening.

Rowan heard Oksana call out "Glassed his ass, Rowan!" She smiled at the comment even as she ducked back into cover as another guard took a potshot at her. The vodka bottles behind and to the right of her exploded in a shower of glass and liquid. Rowan cackled again as she called out to the guard “Oh look another idiot! Did someone miss having their caffeine this morning?”

She chucked another flaming bottle before ducking back into cover. She stayed in low and behind cover as the action seemed to end. It looked like all the guards were down. She recovered what ammo she could from the guards she had taken down. She shoved it all into her backpack. Maybe someone else could use it later. She tried to stick to her strengths and guns were not it.

Rowan moved towards the team as they were finally joined by Felix and Silas as they came down a metal stairway near the large window in the factory wall. Rowan kept her eyes scanning for movement. This was no time to get complacent. Oksana threw a vodka bottle at the window, shattering it. Felix leapt through the window and helped Oksana through it. Rowan decided she would take the easy path and pulled her broom from her back. She hopped onto it channeling mana into the activation runes. The broom lifted her easily into the air. She ducked close the handle and flew through the shattered window into the next room. She landed next to Oksana and put her broom back away, sliding it back into place behind her.

She ducked down behind a conveyor belt next to Oksana as new hostiles erupted into the space. The new hostiles were swearing at them. Rowan muttered to herself. “I don’t have time for this. I have great faith they are going to fuck up all on their own.” She peaked over the top of the conveyor belt to see what was happening and where she could be of help the most. She was running out of potions. She blinked as a purplish pink gas grenade was used to take out the group of hostiles. Rowan pulled her mask into place and fitted into place. She pulled her cloak around her, sealing the edges. Through the gas came a mercenary she was not familiar with. She was instantly alert. The man moved like an operator, a highly skilled one. She was leery of him based on his tools of choice. He was using things from her bag of tricks. She noted his armor was no nonsense, practical and effective.

Rowan stayed in cover next to Oksana as she spoke to the man.

Oksana: "You're not with them. Who are you?" She noted, keeping a rifle pointed direct at him, the closest to him. She would see all of it coming. She'd be faster than him if he tried something. Or at least, whatever illusion of him he projected. Felix was nicer.

Felix: "Holy shit. Cal." Felix chuckled, his own rifle high. "Been a while. Given you're not invisible. I guess you're not here to kill us?" Felix added, pointing the 417 down, the capabilities of Upswing maybe not known by the entire team, beyond rumour, but known by Felix. As a Team Lead, he'd know other people, particularly casters in Reactor. And Upswing was one such character. He kept hand to rifle, ready anyway....

Rowan’s eyes narrowed as she heard Felix’s response. Felix seemed to know the operator which meant he was with Reactor. Rowan didn’t know if that was good news or bad news. The last group they had run into was trying to capture her. Before she could contemplate that an explosion took out the wall on the far side of the room and a new set of players entered the battlefield. Rowan rolled her eyes and ducked back down out of sight. This was getting ridiculous. How many fucking people knew she was headed to Novy Jork and was hunting her in this damn factory?! Rowan sighed as she tried to understand the new battlefield dynamics and who the latest players were. She kept out of sight but was listening closely.

The new Adidas wearing warlock called out "Comrades, weapons down." She simply announced, walking forwards, looking at them. "You interrupted a business meeting. I will interrupt yours. Including you, Borys Skala. Alcohol poisoning hasn't gotten you yet."

Rowan was annoyed. She was ready to get out of this stinking factory and away from all the guns and people trying to capture her to sell her to the serial torture guy. She rolled her eyes thinking she was not a comrade of theirs. She had no clue who the person was and could care less. If they tried to prevent them leaving they just became a problem to overcome.

"Didn't know it was business." Felix replied, Upswing between them in crossfire, all parties holding guns at each other.

The new player was blocking their escape route with their team. In the middle was the dangerous feeling operator who had used the poison gas grenade. With their team hiding behind equipment on the opposite wall where the glass window into the factory was.

"Well, causing me so much trouble seems to make it mine." She had the sound of a haggard old woman, despite the fact that beyond the shade of the hood, she looked Borys's age too.

Rowan’s eyes widened as Oksana entered the conversation. Did everyone know the players in Polavia but her? She listened as Felix and Oksana and the new person went back and forth. Rowan gritted her teeth as yet another person was demanding she be handed over. She would happily help kill Olygarkov all over again. Anyone who thought he was a good man deserved to die in her book. Rowan’s fingers began running down her potion bandolier to see what she had left. Only some healing potions left. Rowan muttered softly to herself “Shit!”

The conversation ended as the caster summoned ghost dogs. Rowan sighed and pulled her broom from her back. She activated one of its features as she poured mana into it. She used it with dispel magic to suck mana from the ghost dogs. She began to sweat as she poured more mana into the spell hoping to help her team by pulling enough mana from them to dispel them back into the aether.

Rowan missed what some of the team were planning as she had to concentrate to keep her spell going. She could feel it working as one dog seemed to fade from view. She kept going even as she heard the others responding.

"Shit, Felix, plan?!" Oksana barked, laying out one of the men as she moved

"Fuck knows, we need to leave! Now! Upswing, you with us, or you here to kill Rowan? There's a queue for all of us, make your call now if you're gonna do it, cos I'm so fucking done with this shithole! No offense, Borys!" Felix yelled, spraying rounds down range, pulling Upswing into cover from where he'd been, looking the DSR native in the eyes, his wild, lion like eyes coming back out, as Oksana kept up suppressing fire.

"There's an emergency exit there, Felix how many dogs is she sending at us?!" Oksana yelled back, the dog barking as she felt felt her inner animal lover was being tortured right now. This was awful! How the fuck did someone have a craft this bad? This was like, worse than any nightmare he was in, even as a feline shapeshifter himself, what on earth was fucking wrong with Yelena?

The caster maintained control of the dogs who were phasing in and out. Rowan hoped she was at least costing the other caster more mana to maintain control. She began to feel the strain as she tried to pull the spell’s power source from the other caster. She pushed her mana into the spell harder. A ghost dog came charging towards her. Rowan blocked it with her broom. She smiled as direct contact with the broom caused the spell to be stronger, dispelling the dog. The broom captured the mana from the spell used to power the caster’s connection to the ghost dog, replenishing some of the mana she had used. She smiled knowing this was going to work.

She moved to back up Oksana. She took up a guarding position at her back. Rowan stood up and began to attack the ghost dogs with her broom. The spell was working. Her mana was being replenished and the spell was getting stronger with every dog she hit. She used the handle of the broom to wield it like a quarter staff.

Rowan: “You know I am tired of people demanding I be handed over like a piece of damn luggage. I don’t know who you are but you seem to know who I am. You all seem to forget that I am a caster as well.”

Rowan took out another rabid dog that charged straight towards her. She let out a frustrated war cry and began to run towards the caster that was blinking around. If she could hit them with her broom, she could suck the mana out of them.

Rowan yelled out to her team.

Rowan: “I will take out the dogs. Gather up and charge for the exit. You take out the goon squad. Let’s go!”

She was tired of this shit and she was pissed. Her emotions carried as her power was being manifested. Her hair crackled under her suit which was still sealed. She didn’t want to be taken out by anyone else’s poison. Rowan charged into the fray her broom a weapon sucking the mana out of the spell that controlled the conjured beasts. She literally swept them back into the spirit plane collecting the mana that helped them manifest. This wrenched mana away from the other caster.

Rowan: "Chaos surrounds us, but I will gladly show it who is in control.”

With a grunt, Silas shouldered open the door.

And the first thing he saw was the butt of a gun whistling his way, he turned at the last possible moment, the buttstock missing his temple and instead striking across his cheek. With a stagger he keeps moving forward, and the big Lipoli medic bulls right into the poor fella, a private in the force. Probably the kids first roll out with the group he's with. He almost feels bad. They go down in a tangle. Legs and arms, if someone didn't know better maybe it'd look like something lewd. Right until a dazed Silas rears his own shotgun up and brings it down hammer style on the new bloods forehead.

Crack...

...crack...

...crack!

Three times. And only then does Silas' head stop ringing. Coming back around to see the kid gasping, his left eyes swelled shut already. Will he survive? Maybe...if someone else doesn't get to him first. Silas gets up, and looks around, and pumps a big 4 guage round into the knees of another enemy mark. His legs coming out from under him. Silas places a finger on the private he's straddling now, "Don't get up...you try anything and I won't be so nice next time..." Silas spits abit of bloody saliva to the side, "Fucking kids."

Getting to his feet he sweeps the room, "Well...this is fun." Finding nothing else to end, he gets to his feet.

Checking the room, letting Felix do his thing. By now it sounds like the rest of the fighting is winding down. Or slowing as something else happens. Silas peers out a window, "Ahhh heck...nothing is every truly over here in Polavia is it?" Silas looks to Felix, "You good?" But before he can see the answer Silas climbs down to ground level, "Who's this then?" He motions at Upswing, until he steps closer, "Well Malaka another Reactor cast off."

He's about to step forward and check the team, his knuckle dusters glowing, when yet another face appears. SOmeone who knows Borys, and saying we busted up a business meeting.

Silas groans, "Always something else."

His big shotty comes up and it kicks, but the pellets scatter as the dog he shot at phases then phases back in, "Skata! Alright...so we'ere beating feet?" He turns and scoops up a smoke canister off one of the bodies, "Eyes and ears!" He says as he pulls the pin and tosses it behind them, covering their escape somewhat. Always something else it seemed like.

Day 2: 06:25:01
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

---

Borys did not fight gracefully when wielding a melee weapon. It was not like the movies where a lone knight dances among his enemies, dispatching them with precise flourishes of his sword.

Borys was more like a tank driving through a neighborhood in a straight line - he picked a target and stuck to it, pounding them into mulch using brute force and single-minded conviction that would qualify him to be a paladin in a different magic system built up over years of childhood fights, drunken pub brawls and prison pit fighting, shrugging off retaliatory strikes until the target stopped moving before moving onto the next one. It was enough to send some of the militants fleeing, which only opened them up even more to the rest of the team.

When the pandemonium was over, Borys paused by one of the dead goons to wipe blood and what he was reasonably sure was a bit of grey matter from his shoes with the same gravity he would with a dog turd, quickly checking that the girls were intact and shooting them a thumbs up to let them know he was as well. He paused by the pile of sugarcanes, grabbing a few pieces and beginning to chew on one, holding his hand with a few stalks to Rowan and Oksana. “Just remember to spit, not swallow.”

His gaze paused on the broken bottles Rowan had caused, flicked between the redhead and the national disaster she was responsible for, then pointed at her with the sugar canes he was still holding and slowly shook his head in profound disappointment. “You can make it up to me by supplying more of this.” He tapped the wine bottle in his vest with the knuckles of his other hand, “And you’re already making it up to Polavia by killing these fucks, so keep at it.”

When Upswing burst onto the scene, Borys glanced between him and Felix, “Of course you know the guy.” He said in that particular tone of voice that indicated he was aware that his life had become a tragicomedy but he was too drunk and too powerless to do anything about it, so why bother?

The next arrival was less of a happy reunion.

”You interrupted a business meeting. I will interrupt yours. Including you, Borys Skala. Alcohol poisoning hasn't gotten you yet.”

“Pass, too ugly.” Was the first reply Borys’ chemically happy mind conjured up in response.

The second were 5,45x39 mm fullmetal jacket, but that didn’t really count, and although by now he was deep enough in the bottle to probably survive long enough to fire if he raised his rifle now, his team would definitely not.

“Don’t waste your breath on her, Butterfly.” Borys said as Oksana tried to negotiate, “You’ll have an easier time convincing a Kalani priest to release the little boys from the church’s basement.”

True to expectation, it all went to shit then and bullets started flying. Bullets and… ghost dogs? They actually looked remarkably similar to the strays Borys and his chums would have to throw rocks and empty bottles at so they’d leave them be as they stumbled home from the pub. And yet they somehow still looked less dangerous than the ones the guards at the prison were using. Two were on Borys in an instant, one latching onto his left arm, another going for his crotch which was really the one that concerned him, at least until its spectral jaws found their mark and absolutely nothing happened.

He started laughing, a deep rumbling bellow he was too drunk to hold despite the bullets flying around. He stopped abruptly, levelling his left arm - with the spectral stray hanging off of it impotently - to point at Yelena. “You’re dead.” He simply said, punctuating the statement by swinging his arm in a wide arc that ended with the dog hanging off of it striking a nearby wall, enough to make it let go and allow Borys to wield Svetlana properly, quickly dispatching both dogs - they were too close to miss even with his blood alcohol content.

The showdown of two Adidas-wearing, binge-drinking gopnik arcane commandos was a lot less spectacular than one might have hoped, with one zipping around the room in a stunning display of common sense in combat - how unPolavian! - while the other was too hammered to hit any target that was moving perpendicularly to him.

But just because he was drunk didn’t mean he wasn’t observing.

In fact, it probably helped, seeing double and all…

Because Borys noticed a pattern.

He left cover to get across the room, a burst of 9x18 mm from a PP-19 slamming into his side and sending him tumbling onto the ground near where he needed to get to being enough to actually draw blood from what was, at least by gunshot wound standards, a surface-level scrape.

He wasn’t going to address the rib that had probably broken, it wasn’t in his lung so it was fiiiiiine.

He set up his mirror by the wall and stood back up, still taking potshots at Yelena - and at one point throwing an empty magazine because that seemed like a good way to keep up the pressure even while reloading - as he moved to a certain part of the room, near a mostly intact display case - one holding a polished brass still. He swore loudly, letting Svetlana hang on her sling and switching to his PB in oe hand and bat in the other.

He fired and jumped into his reflection in the still.

Yelena blinked herself into cover, exactly where Borys thought she would go.

Borys came out of his mirror bat-first, smacking Yelena across the face before he had even fully materialized yet. She might have been one hard to pin down witch, but it was very hard to teleport with a broken nose and mild concussion.

“Too bad, so sad…” Borys said as he stood over Yelena’s dazed form, holstering the PB as she tried to figure out which way was up and why her mouth tasted like iron, “But sometimes life’s a Polavian,” He spat out the remnants of the sugar cane he’d been chewing as he raised Yelena II - how appropriate - over his head to deliver the finishing blow, “And you’re an unstolen car.”

The bat came down just as a spectral hound lunged for it, yanking it off course and Borys off his feet.

“Yoebany v rot, blyat. We’re not playing fetch, suka!” Borys thundered at the dog, levering the bat sideways and twisting the spectral dog’s neck in a way bone structure would not have allowed, enough for the apparition to whimper as it disappeared. He quickly swung the bat again from supine position, but only struck the ground where Yelena had been before she blinked out. “This is why I like cats better. Yoeb tvayu mať...” Borys groaned as he picked himself up again.

Some hours later, a sober Borys would be kicking himself over getting cough monologuing like a B-movie villain.

Drunk Borys just hoped no one would call it out for what it was.

Day 2: 06:31:01
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

With the combatants down, from Rowan sucking out the mana from Yelenka, to Silas crowd-controlling a batch of dogs, to then Borys heroically trying, yet not quite completing a finishing move on the warlock, the noise had calmed down quite a bit, the scene still a cluster. Yelenka had blinked out, before anything more could be done, and where she was, was unknown.

The smoke was sill drifting, as the dust settled from bullets and rounds all over the place, the smell overwhelmingly of cherry vodka. It stank, to high heaven, the massive tank in the corner of the room offering samples leaking everywhere creating a ethanol-y, sweet smell that trickled past boots.

But they had created a window. A way out. Apart from the rest of Yelenka's friends.

"Okay, exit through gift shop it is then!" Felix put down rounds down range, dropping a couple of PSA militants with accurate fire, Oksana flanking around and hurling a bottle of vodka in what was now a signature move since the bar from yesterday evening, to draw another away, before he was shot in the head by another member of the team.

She skipped the barrier and moved to the entry, grabbing a "Tourist Map of Novy Jork", not that she needed it, but the team might later, checking the lobby as Felix moved through and the team would follow, the militants finally having run out.

"Brief tour. I think we should leave. Cars?" Oksana asked, nodding outside at where the Mercedes, BMWs and Audis were parked, Felix shaking his head.

"PSA's are too hot. That way. Towards the blocks!"

Running out of the factory, Felix's bag clinked a little, as Oksana looked up at him, with a scowl, having not realised he'd of course taken bottles as loot while passing by. The sound of police sirens could be heard, closing in faster, and faster.

Hopping a fence at the front of the facility and crossing another train line, the sound of sirens could roll out as Felix looked across at the team, Roxy very much aware that they all, bar Rowan, and at most perhaps Borys and Upswing, all looked like a bunch of mercenaries suited for field work rather than urban casual.

"Fuck! We're not shooting police, Felix!" Oksana yelled, as they made their way out of the factory grounds.

"Well, we're avoiding them!" Leaving the beautiful brickwork behind and immediately heading across into the concrete that Upswing had come from, into Novi Grad, it felt like they were putting distance between them and sirens, at least, for the moment being.

The New City.

---

Day 2: 06:51:02
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Novi Grad was a misnomer, as this was the Communist-era part of the Novy Jork and no longer the newest part, and a lot of it was in quite a dilapidated state. Unlike Stary Grad, the where Novy Jork Castle sat and the beautiful medieval ruins, or Zloty Targ, the shiny, modern, tech hub, Novi Grad was where things had happened, thirty years ago. Industry, productivity, and most of all, current day depression. This wasn't the airy vibes of the DSR, it felt oppressive here.

Novi Grad was mostly industry, but the blocks of resident flats were about five storeys high, mostly had elevators that were broken, if they had them at all, and was peak, peak communist behaviour.

Residents were awake, but didn't seem to care that a PMC-originating team were running between the blocks, past children's play equipment and allotment gardens, most of them attuned specifically, to not make a fuss. Such was life in Polavia. Open carrying like this was a stupid idea though for long, Felix reasoned, and Oksana couldn't help but agree, pointing out an entry.

"In there!" She yelled, as Felix turned, the door open and revealing a stairway.

Moving up and inside, the block was not perfect, but enough to make some decisions out of, as the team headed up a couple of storeys, up the stairs, passing by an extremely shitfaced man who was leaning against a wall, Oksana firing a look at Borys, begging him to say nothing.

Felix sighed, taking a turn towards what looked like a door that seemed partly caved in. "Here?" Felix asked, as Oksana shrugged, and with it, the team lead took his fibre wire. With a dangle of the cable, he pushed it out and checked his phone, revealing what looked like a fairly dilapidated place. It wasn't lived in. At least, it hadn't been for a long, long time. Cable back out, Felix realised Roxie had already kicked the door, and was moving on in, despite Felix not giving the order. She'd already seen that coming, the all clear, as Felix realised the same.

Breaking inside the apartment, Roxie kept the lights on her PP-19 at flank, as Felix covered front, the team checking the area and securing it. The place was a ruin, abandoned, perhaps, the drunk guy had found a ground floor room and left this second floor alone. Because outside of bottles scattered, a disgusting old sofa, and a table in the main kitchen, it seemed bare.

"Clear." Oksana called, moving towards a window and hearing more gunfire. Shit. PSA and Police weren't tied up. At least not these cops. This was a fucking hellhole. They'd never been this brave before. She'd never heard anything outside of gangsters. This was something else. She moved back inside, peering out, as Felix looked to her, glancing at someone else who he hoped would at least push the door back into place.

"What a mess. Who was that, Roxy? And she knew Borys? Gods!" The shapeshifter felt like he was only now exhaling, leaning against wall, shaking head.

"Yelena Strulovich. Warlock."

That rung no name to Felix, as he sat down, exhaling hard, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead.

"Well, Borys didn't kill her, for sure. She blinked out. We'll see her again. Scary bitch, her and half the PSA want our heads." Felix stated the obvious, as Oksana nodded, very much so seeing that.

"Yeah, warlocks are. We did well. Borys thrived on that. Silas kept us all alive. And Rowan is still public enemy number one. We know that. But what else is new. Upswing, was it? This is normally how it goes. Welcome to the team." She retorted as if she was on edge, Butterfly, as Borys rightly called her, rolling up her sleeves and looking out the window to see if any more heat was going on, before looking back.

"Back to the blocks. Gods. May as well get changed and stop fucking around. Anyone, if you want a change of clothes and gear, let me know. Time to find out if long distance extraction glpyhs are still it and can carry clothing, when you put that much rattlesnake dye into them. Probably best we don't go full open carry in Novy Jork, so best to leave long guns and plate carriers hidden under the floorboards. Not unless we want to get shot by police in the street." She looked to the group, Felix sighing, nodding as he headed to the kitchen, checking the bare place over, the cupboards and shelves empty, but some tools left behind.

A prybar would do enough, as he avoided a broken floorboard and picked it up, coming back in and ready to open up the floor to make a reliable hide-hole.

Roxy had broke out the spray can and sprayed a simple pentagram from the prepared glyph paint they'd put together earlier, with a bit of glyph, with another one next to it. Passing her SVU, PP-19 and vest to Felix, she finished up the paint.

"Be right back." And suddenly, the witch disppeared with like that with a tuft of smoke and spark.

---

Within a few minutes, Roxie stepped back through the void, having taken the team's small arms away, back to the barn where they'd been this morning.

"Urgh. That was weird. Really messes with my vision." She was now dressed more informally, her olive tactical pack significantly more loaded up as she wore a black, full body woolen coat and a black witch's hat, PM pistol/wand hidden underneath the wool coat. A pair of trainers rather than boots, black gloves to avoid leaving prints, some mascara that seemed like she'd applied it far too quick, with a bit of lip that had turned her into someone totally different. Rowan might have had her simple transform spells, Roxy prefered.....the old ways. With her hair tucked differently and a simple cast turning it coal black, she looked half different, gone was the Watcher-Witch, now seemed to appear someone who looked more.....traditional, Witch. She threw Felix his bundle of clothes, and Silas and Borys, if they wanted theirs, their spares.

"You look like you've come back from the spa with that coat, Roxy." Felix chuckled, as she tsk'd, ignoring his comment, looking out of the window, then back. It wasn't warm at all in Novy Jork, barely 10C, so a woolen coat like that still would have made sense. Even if it looked like something from a spa. He had put his plate carrier into his bulkier tactical pack, and switched to a tracksuit bottom and top set,

It was at this point, that the table was opened up a little.

"So, Pavel, if I know him, is almost permanently at the Grand Polavian, off Palinka Street. Opposite the massive Town Hall. You can't miss it. But he won't be back until the evening. He does business across the city. He's a fixer." Oksana leaned against the table with the tourist map of Novy Jork on it.

Felix leant across, broken record as he was, knowing spirits had to be kept high. Morale had to. Somehow. And they needed this to end.

"We're this close to the end. We need to get to Pavel, and call it a day, Roxy, we are way, way over our heads. Hunting down whatever..."

"Oh, so let me see. It doesn't matter. They're going to hunt Rowan to the end of the earth. And you." She poked a finger against his chest, sighing, as she looked to Borys, Silas, Upswing and Rowan, sighing.

"Paperwork to get us out is helpful, but we are getting into constant gunfights, being chased by police, PSA, a Tier One caster unit from the DSR. Now Upswing wants to find Rowan. I imagine it's to do with the psychoactive shit they were planning on putting in vodka bottles. Well. If that was a trial run, what the fuck are those bastards up to?" Oksana felt like she was beating the same drum, over, and over, and over. Looking to Rowan, who had brought it all up. What had happened in Kalan. And to Borys. Who was still recovering from being hungover. To Silas. Who was along for the ride with his old comrades, and deserved better than this.

"I want a day without getting shot so we can figure out what is going on. Pavel knows if your Babushka farted, so he might have some answers. Or at the least, where I might be able to go to get some answers. Even if you lot run." Oksana was clearly heated, realising this was more personal to a lot of the stuff in Polavia. Shit. No matter how much she ran, she ended up back here, always back in a battle.

Always up against a wall. Her life in the DSR was dead, and here, it seemed like the nemesis of her past seemed to rear her head. No point trying to run again.

Felix flicked his fingers through the tourist map, shrugging. "Okay. Well, we're civies now. We could blend in. CCTV isn't hot around here. So it gives us room to breathe, let's go on that, Roxy. Figure out a plan...we can do that at least until we see Pavel and we can talk then about what next." He looked down at the map, putting hand to chin, thinking.

This was quite different to where they'd been before.

No more corridors, no more being hunted and chased.

Now, they were incognito. And while splitting up seemed like the greatest risk, they could at least now, do whatever they wanted. Guns were hidden away under the floorboards, as was any tactical clothing that might give them up walking amongst people.

They were finally given a sandbox, as Novy Jork's map was before them.

---

"A few things would be handy. Ideas?" Oksana put it to the team, knowing that scouting, getting bearings, or at least, some semblance of control would be a pleasure in the next few hours.

"More potions would be good." Felix queried, knowing Rowan had a serious stash back at Roxy's Babushka's house, but, it wouldn't help to make more healing stuff. Felix had already downed a bunch of it after being shot, for the wound that Silas hadn't gotten to.

"Here. Alejka Czarownika. Sorcerer's Alley. Best newts this side of the mountains. They take cash."

"Good. That's a visit. Also, food. I'm fucking starving. Those PSA militants have nothing on their bones. Something for lunch at least." Felix added, the fact he was so hungry he could eat a horse right there, but Roxy deciding not to take it. They'd been through enough shit in the last 12 hours.

Food seemed odd to prioritise, but, it made sense for morale. Kept everyone going.

Oksana chuckled. "I know a place. Milk bar. Here. Cheap."

Felix looked. "Milk bar?"

Oksana realised he didn't quite understand Polavian customs. "It does good food. Vegetarian too so you don't have to worry. And now, they do takeaway with thermos flasks. New customs but good old communist gruel at Uncle Josef's."

Felix chuckled. "Wow. Okay. That would be handy."

Roxy nodded, looking across the map, Felix pointing to the floorboards where they'd hidden their long guns.

"We also need more ammo, or guns. Hate to say it, but we are nearly out of bullets." Oksana noted, as the ginger team lead nodded.

"My 417's got one last mag and my supply of home-made shells for the Masterkey is running out."

"There's still a market here on Kotlin Street. It has a black market, where you can buy almost anything. Including Western bootlegs. There's a guy here, Janek, who also sells Vessels. For the right price, he can find you anything." Oksana pointed to the map again, noting that well, in a capital city, came some seriously, seriously spicy shit to add to arsenal. "For the right price. We haven't got much cash. So anything to make it go further, or, an ability to get some more, would be handy. I'm not into robbing banks."

"Fair enough. Unless you're willing to do some very unethical shit with your craft. And last thing we need is more attention, so whatever it is, be careful." Felix noted, looking across the map, before thinking more generally.

"So be it.....what else. Oh, transport would be good. While the trams are good, finding some way of driving on the roads, once things calm down, would be handy."

"Right. Nobody is stealing Ladas. I object to that one, not being a folk hero but stealing from the poor doesn't seem like a bright idea. And Rowan might prefer a nicer car. Someone could....hmmm, The Bourse is here, and has lots of fancy cars."

"Since when did we become criminals?"

"I don't think we're the good guys anymore, Felix. Last I checked, Upswing has been living this life. Urban SERE. Do whatever you have to in order to survive."

"You suggested going to a Milk Bar to buy potato and carrot soup with pierogi, on BoberEats."

Roxy shrugged. "They aren't on delivery services. Again, cash only. And we steal from the rich to give to poor old us." She smiled, as Felix leaned in, looking across the rest.

"Anyone else have any ideas? We need to make a list."

Felix leaned out, having taken any ideas on, and took out a waterproof notepad from his pocket that he'd liberated from his plate carrier, useful for making on the go notes. So with a pencil in hand, he could fill it in, with the various bits that they were brainstorming.

"Well. We have things to do. Everyone pick at least one thing from the list so it completes the bunch. We'll agree what we want, and what we can get from each. If we want ammo and guns, ask, and the others fix. Remember. Nobody raise too much attention. We meet back here for 3pm, pick up guns, load into duffels and carry them to the hotel. We need some money for the hotel, so hang onto something." Felix added, looking across, sighing out.

"We're not done yet. But once we're at the hotel, this fucking thing might be over." Felix said, knowing deep down, this whole job was anything but.

---

The team had a unique opportunity to go out and for at least the next nine hours, sample. They'd find themselves back at the apartment when they were complete, able to tag with each other.

A modern, vibrant, Eastern European-adjacent city was open to them, full of trams, corruption, post-communist relics and modern settings, markets, both of the traditional and black market variety, to tourist sights.

Tasklist (as written by Felix):

-Find a Safehouse
-Buy more channels / guns (Kotlin Street Black Market)
-Buy more ammunition (Kotlin Street Black Market)
-Buy vessels, glyphs, potions (Czarownika Alley)
-Buy questionable Polavian takeout food (Uncle Josef's Milk Bar)
-Pick up duffel bags (stolen, bought, whatever)
-See the sights (optional)
---Novy Jork Castle
---Silk Alley Market
---Lanin's Statue
-Steal a Car (heated seats, please!)
-Defraud the Polavian Taxpayer (Optional)
-Get Money or Die Trying
-(Rowan's, Borys's, Upswing's and Silas's ideas)

-Meet Pale Pavel (Grand Polavian)

---

Day 2: 06:31:01
Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Rowan Morgana

Rowan had jumped into action wielding her broom as the vessel and weapon it was. She spun and attacked applying bo staff techniques as she wielded the broom into battle. The broom itself glowing as she kept the mana collection spell running as she fought by channeling mana into the broom. The broom’s glow got brighter with every dog she hit. A fierce snarl curled her lip as she spun and attacked the ghost hounds trying to stop her from getting the witch that had summoned them. Rowan focused on what she needed to do to help the team get out of the factory. She didn’t understand what Upswing’s role in this was but she didn’t trust him after hearing he was here for her. He seemed to join their side as they worked to take out Yelenka. Being able to hit something helped Rowan’s mood some. She began looking around as she took out the last ghost dog. She had still not managed to get her frustration and anger out completely. She was ready to beat on something else. The fight seemed over for now much to her disappointment. The team had managed to open a small window between the forces looking for them so that they could make good their escape. There were still PSA goons firing at them trying to stop their escape.

Felix charged for the entrance to the gift shop as he took out another couple of PSA goons. She heard him call out, "Okay, exit through gift shop it is then!"

Rowan ran in the direction of the entrance to the gift shop. Any tourists or employees had long since fled due to the fighting. She smiled as she saw two PSA goons pop up from behind a gift shelf and began to target the team. She still had her hands on her broom and used some of the stolen mana from the ghost dogs to send two lightning bolts their way. They ducked but their armor attracted the electricity as they ducked. She smiled in satisfaction as she watched their twitching bodies drop to the floor. "It is nice to feel productive. They were annoying me. I’m just taking out the trash."

Most of the team didn’t stop running as they took the PSA waiting for them. A few of them grabbed things on the way through. She smiled and stopped long enough to grab two large bottles of the vodka on display in the gift shop. She opened her backpack and quickly shoved them inside. She started to close up her backpack when her eyes landed on boxes of vodka filled chocolates. She snagged two small boxes and forced them into the bag as well. She then closed it up and quickly slid it back on. She picked up her broom and followed the others out of the gift shop.

As they emerged outside, she heard sirens in the distance and closing fast. There was the crackle of flames and smoke pouring into the air from the factory. She followed and hopped on her broom as they cleared the front door. Her broom would allow her to move faster and more smoothly up and over obstacles. She followed after Felix. She almost whined when Oksana had suggested they take one of the nice cars sitting in the parking lot. Felix said they didn’t have time and directed them to head towards the closest housing block. She understood they didn’t have time as the sirens were almost to the factory.

Oksana gave voice to her thoughts. "Fuck! We're not shooting police, Felix!" Oksana yelled, as they made their way out of the factory grounds.

They didn’t have time to get to one and get it hotwired and exit before the local police could stop them. They had nothing against the local police. They didn’t want to shoot the good guys who actually tried to serve the community. She poured more mana into her broom and followed behind Felix, her broom easily going up and over the fence as she pulled up next to him and kept pace with him.

---

Day 2: 06:51:02
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Rowan followed Felix as they turned into a crumbling apartment block that had seen better days.She had hopped off her broom and was carrying it in one hand. The crumbling structure was in desperate need of maintenance but was strong enough to have weathered whatever local shoot outs and gang actions it had seen. People in need of shelter still entered the building and obviously lived here. The team ran up the stairs moving deeper into the building. They passed a drunk man that was sprawled out in a hallway on the first floor. Rowan’s nose wrinkled, grateful she had her mask still on. She was pretty sure this place would smell like mildew, rot, garbage, and piss. They came across a section that looked like part of the ceiling was collapsing. This section appeared abandoned probably because no one else was stupid enough to move into the part of the building which might collapse on them. Felix moved to the apartment door there which looked like it was barely hanging on to the hinges. Felix had taken something out and appeared to be trying to see what was going on when Oksana went past him and kicked the door open. They all trooped in behind them with the last person closing the door behind them. She could hear gunfire and sirens in the area but they were not necessarily moving closer to their location.

Oksana called out “Clear.”

Felix was guarding the door as they all trooped inside. Felix finally let his posture relax and turned to Oksana as he leaned against the wall. "What a mess. Who was that, Roxy? And she knew Borys? Gods!"

Oksana:

"Yelena Strulovich. Warlock."

Rowan was paying attention to the conversation. The name didn’t ring any bells for her. But then that seemed to be normal for her while she was visiting the shining state of Polavia. Her lip curled in disgust and frustration. She blew out a breath and tried to let the pent up anger go.

Felix:

"Well, Borys didn't kill her, for sure. She blinked out. We'll see her again. Scary bitch, her and half the PSA want our heads."

Rowan snickered as she turned her attention to Felix. “Well aren’t you Captain Fucking Obvious!”

Before Rowan could comment further Oksana jumped back in.

Oksana: "Yeah, warlocks are. We did well. Borys thrived on that. Silas kept us all alive. And Rowan is still public enemy number one. We know that. But what else is new. Upswing, was it? This is normally how it goes. Welcome to the team."

Rowan’s head snapped towards Oksana. “Wait a fucking minute! Welcome to the team? Didn’t this guy say he was hunting me too?”

Rowan turned her attention on Upswing. “I appreciate that you joined us to get out of there. I need to know if I am going to have an issue with you. Are you really joining the team? Or are you still planning to hunt me? Because if that is the case, let’s get this shit out of the way.”

Rowan waited to hear Upswing out and reluctantly let it go for now. She still wasn’t sure she could fully trust him but it was what it was for now. The enemy of my enemy was a friend after all or isn’t that how the saying goes? She shook her head and began to look around the apartment. Rowan sighed as she couldn’t help comparing it to Babushka’s barn. The barn somehow felt friendlier and nicer compared to the abandoned dilapidated apartment. She would not be sitting on that sofa. It was covered in questionable stains that gave her the heebee jeebees just thinking about what might be on it.

Oksana broke out the spell paint. She planned a trip back to the barn. She asked if anyone wanted anything. Rowan raised her hand. “Please bring me back another change of clothes. There is also more ammo for the Mossberg and my pistols. Can you bring what is left? There are also some small gold bars and DSR Cash left in my duffle bag, if you think it would be worth bringing. I am not sure if the black market would accept it.”

Oksana went to work with the paint and Rowan turned her attention to the space they were in. She sighed and took off her hat, mask, and cape. She used a clean spell on them and set them aside. She then began digging through her pack to see what she had left.

---

Oksana came back and began passing out clothes and gear that people had asked for. Rowan caught what was thrown her way. She folded them and set them on top of her cape. She continued to pull things out and set them down in a row as she took inventory. She listened as she worked.

Oksana:

"So, Pavel, if I know him, is almost permanently at the Grand Polavian, off Palinka Street. Opposite the massive Town Hall. You can't miss it. But he won't be back until the evening. He does business across the city. He's a fixer." Oksana leaned against the table with the tourist map of Novy Jork on it.

Felix:

"We're this close to the end. We need to get to Pavel, and call it a day, Roxy, we are way, way over our heads. Hunting down whatever..."

Oksana:

"Oh, so let me see. It doesn't matter. They're going to hunt Rowan to the end of the earth. And you." She poked a finger against his chest, sighing, as she looked to Borys, Silas, Upswing and Rowan, sighing.

Rowan frowned as she looked over at Oksana. “Do I need to call you Captain Fucking Obvous now?” Rowan rolled her eyes as Oksana continued.

Oksana:

"Paperwork to get us out is helpful, but we are getting into constant gunfights, being chased by police, PSA, a Tier One caster unit from the DSR. Now Upswing wants to find Rowan. I imagine it's to do with the psychoactive shit they were planning on putting in vodka bottles. Well. If that was a trial run, what the fuck are those bastards up to?"

Rowan pulled out some potion vials she had in her backpack since they had discussed that they wouldn’t be all that useful due to ways the police and other operations could see through or detect illusion disguises. She still had two of those illusion disguise potions.

Oksana:

"I want a day without getting shot so we can figure out what is going on. Pavel knows if your Babushka farted, so he might have some answers. Or at the least, where I might be able to go to get some answers. Even if you lot run."

Rowan snorted as she listened to Oksana. “Me too! I would love a day where no one took shots at me and demanded that I be turned over for torture like I was a piece of luggage. I would kill for a nice bed, clean room, and a bath. But here we are.” She went back to sorting through her gear for what would be helpful.

Felix flicked his fingers through the tourist map, shrugging. "Okay. Well, we're civies now. We could blend in. CCTV isn't hot around here. So it gives us room to breathe, let's go on that, Roxy. Figure out a plan...we can do that at least until we see Pavel and we can talk then about what next." He looked down at the map, putting hand to chin, thinking.

@starlance
Felix and Oksana were standing next to each other and reviewing the map that they had placed on the table. She listened as her eyes flicked over what she had left. She still had ammo for her pistol. She still had two magazines since she had not used it much. She sighed and stood up leaving her possession in a tidy pile on her cape. She handed the two bottles of vodka she had liberated to Borys. "I found those on the way out." She smiled at him. She went to look at the map and join the conversation.

Felix flicked his fingers through the tourist map, shrugging. "Okay. Well, we're civies now. We could blend in. CCTV isn't hot around here. So it gives us room to breathe, let's go on that, Roxy. Figure out a plan...we can do that at least until we see Pavel and we can talk then about what next." He looked down at the map, putting hand to chin, thinking.

---

Oksana:

"A few things would be handy. Ideas?"

Felix:

"More potions would be good."

Rowan sighed and nodded. “I can brew more but I will need to pick up some supplies. What kind of potions are you thinking of?”

Oksana:

"Here. Alejka Czarownika. Sorcerer's Alley. Best newts this side of the mountains. They take cash."

Rowan smiled with a glint in her eye. “Oh yes! I am going with whoever is going. I will need to see what they have before I can say what I can make. Price for ingredients will be a factor as well.” She rubbed her hands gleefully.

Felix:

"Good. That's a visit. Also, food. I'm fucking starving. Those PSA militants have nothing on their bones. Something for lunch at least."

Rowan nodded with that statement. “Good call Felix. The granola bars wore off long ago. I am hungry too.”

She just watched the back and forth as Oksana tried to extoll the virtues of a place called the Milk Bar. “That sounds like a bar for cats. They serve milk? It should be perfect for you Felix.” She smiled as she gave Felix a rash of shit.

The discussion turned to what the team needed. “Did you bring back what little ammo was left for the Mossberg and my pistol? I have two magazines left for my pistol. I didn’t use it much. I have some DSR cash and some gold bars. Is there a place that would exchange gold for Polavian cash?”

Oksana:

"There's still a market here on Kotlin Street. It has a black market, where you can buy almost anything. Including Western bootlegs. There's a guy here, Janek, who also sells Vessels. For the right price, he can find you anything." Oksana pointed to the map again, noting that well, in a capital city, came some seriously, seriously spicy shit to add to arsenal. "For the right price. We haven't got much cash. So anything to make it go further, or, an ability to get some more, would be handy. I'm not into robbing banks."

Rowan pondered what she had left. “I have a few of those illusion potions left. I have one healing potion left if someone else would like it. We could sell them or trade them for what we need at the black market to make our cash go further.”

Felix:

"Fair enough. Unless you're willing to do some very unethical shit with your craft. And last thing we need is more attention, so whatever it is, be careful." Felix noted, looking across the map, before thinking more generally.

Rowan just smiled and shook her head. She thought Felix was being a little naive. They might have to get into some morally gray areas to get what they need. That didn’t mean she was willing to steal from nice old grannies but the local thugs who terrorized their neighbors. Yeah she would be happy to help them empty their pockets. She agreed that they needed to be careful not to draw attention to themselves. But might makes right is the way of the underworld and the poorer areas of the world.

Oksana:

"Anyone else have any ideas? We need to make a list."

Rowan nodded. “Depending on what we can afford and what ingredients they have. Brewing potions will be cheaper than buying them. I will have to purchase a cheap soup pot or something like that to brew enough in. Again I have a few of those small gold bars and two of those illusion potions left we can sell. We can play Robin Hood and wait for local thugs to harass or shake down some local merchants and step in and relieve them of their money. We are going to need money to buy ammo. That is not going to be cheap. I am not sure what the going rates are here. I agree that a car would be nice. I also agree if we are going to steal one. Let’s pick one from a rich person that won’t miss it as much. It would make traveling incognito easier for us. A van would be even better since there are five of us. We could use it as a mobile base of operations. Some food for the road would be good too.”

Rowan waited to hear what the others came up with before she jumped back into the conversation. “We need information too. We need to pay attention to what the rumors on the street are. We need to find out what is going on with the PSA and try to follow up on any rumors about Manticore. It would also help if we find out if the underground is looking for us too or just the PSA.”

---

Rowan had decided to strike out on her own after the team meeting broke up. She kept her combat boots on but had already used a clean spell to remove any gunk left from their fight at the vodka factory. She was now wearing jeans, her black combat boots, and a dark purple hoodie with the phrase “good witches raise hell” in a bold kitschy font emblazoned across the front. She had pulled the braids out of her hair. Her hair was a riot of cascading curls that moved in shades of red with hints of gold. It made her look different from her work look. It softened her features and made her appear more feminine and approachable. She had skillfully applied some minimal make up from a small bag she kept in her backpack. She used makeup to help change the lines of her face. Eyeliner elongated her eyes and added dark wings to the sides. Foundation covered her freckles and darkened her skin just a little. She used the contouring makeup to add deeper shadows to her cheeks giving her a more hallowed out look. One of her goals was to buy some hair dye while she was out. She needed some mundane ways to change and alter her appearance that didn’t rely on magic. She didn’t pull the hood up because she felt she would attract more attention that way than simply walking around like she belonged. She was grateful that Oksana didn’t bring her any of her more fashionable clothes. She would have stuck out like a flashing neon sign in this neighborhood. She had left her pistol under the floorboards with the long guns. She had her whip tucked into her hoodie pocket. She had emptied her backpack of everything so she could use it as a shopping bag. She had some gold, some DSR paper money, and a little Polavian money that she had managed to exchange when she first got to the country. She had her combat knife and spare wand tucked into her waistband and hidden by her hoodie.

Rowan slipped out of the dilapidated crumbling residential block and headed deeper into the district. She moved purposefully away from the area around the vodka distillery. She walked with purpose at a ground eating pace like she had somewhere to be but not fast enough to draw attention. She kept her eyes open and paid attention to what was going on around her. She stopped about five blocks from their hideout to jot down a quick map and directions into a pocket notebook with her list on it. She wanted to be sure she could make her way back to the hideout. She had just tucked the notebook into her pocket when the sound of raised voices came to her ears. She looked around and on the opposite corner was a little convenience store. The type that sold some groceries, liquor, and cigarettes and catered to the surrounding neighborhood. Other locals hightailed it away from the situation, obviously intent on avoiding any kind of confrontation with the small group of thugs standing at the door. One was watching the street and scowling at anyone looking their way. One was watching what was happening inside the store. Obviously there was at least one more inside the store.

Rowan heard a feminine voice that sounded elderly “I told you I don’t have any more than that! You already took anything I might earn this month.”

She heard a cocky male voice reply. “Then you should work harder. Now hand over what’s in the till.”

Rowan knew she should probably walk away. She didn’t need any attention but she found couldn’t do it. She kept picturing if this was Oksana’s grandmother. She had been a nice little old lady. For all she knew this woman was someone else’s babushka. You don’t mess with babushka. She was still itching for a fight and had some rage to work out. This would do nicely. Her wicked smile would have made the Grinch proud as she began stalking across the street. Her smile grew as she noted the very nice black luxury Mercedes sitting at the curb.

The tough guy at the front door noticed her and puffed up and tried to look intimidating. He stepped into her path as she approached the door. She couldn’t help but be amused at the tough guy wannabe gangster wearing the cheesy flashy polyester tracksuit and polished kicks. He had a heavy gold chain around his neck.

Thug one: “The store is closed, keep walking bitch. This doesn't concern you.”

Rowan titled her head to the side and noticed the other guy out front was watching what was happening and moved to back up his partner. She pointed to the sign and open door. “The sign clearly says its open. I have had a bad day. Why don’t you step aside and go on your way.”

The other thug laughed as he thought her response was funny. “Bitch get to stepping or we will have some fun with you before we let you go.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” She spun on her heel clocking the thug in front of her in the head knocking him to the ground. She pulled her combat knife in a fluid motion and spun to attack his partner. Surprise was on her side. She had a wicked smile as she fought. The one she had kicked in the head was out. His partner was managing to keep up so far but had managed to land a few hits. He was stronger than her.

Thug two: “Bitch you have no idea who you're messing with.”

Rowan threw her head back and laughed. “That’s my line. I’d tell you to go to hell, but I doubt you could make the commute."

Rowan managed to stab the combat knife into his throat after exchanging a few more blows with him. She spat at him and turned her attention to the one inside. She casually kicked the other thug in the head hard enough to make sure he stayed down. She entered the store.

Now that she could see what was happening she got angrier. There was only one left. He slapped the old woman standing behind the counter. He was threatening her with a pistol. “I told you no excuses. Give me what you have.”

The old woman was in tears. She was trembling as her hands fumbled with the register. Rowan had seen enough. She pulled her whip out in one smooth motion. She flicked it, sending the whip to spiral around the pistol. She yanked the pistol out of the man’s hand. The man spun with a look of rage and surprise on his face. “Who the hell are you?”

Rowan sneered as she answered. “Your doom.” She flicked the whip so that it wrapped around his neck and channeled lightning through it. She smiled as she watched him twitch on the floor. "Your parents aren’t the only ones you’ve disappointed. You don’t mess with Babushka!" She quickly dispatched the thug. She then turned her attention to the elderly shopkeeper.

Rowan’s voice gentled. “Are you okay miss?”

The elderly woman’s lip trembled and a dark bruise was already welling up on her face. There were large handprint sized bruises on her arm as well. Tears fell and a look of terror crossed the elderly face as she looked at the thug. “They will be back. They always come back. Are you going to hurt me?”

Rowan sighed as she looked into those terrified eyes. She put her whip away. “I didn’t go through the trouble of helping you to hurt you. At least today they won’t be back. Mind if I use your dumpster? I should clean up my mess.”

The elderly woman clearly didn’t trust her yet. She simply nodded and appeared to be in a state of shock. She shook her head and used her back up wand to levitate the bodies and drag them into the alleyway behind the store. She had moved the third thug to the alley before stabbing him through the throat as well. She cast a clean spell to clean up the blood. She pulled all the gold jewelry and watches off them. She pulled the like new fancy sneakers off their feet and set them aside. She dug through their pockets and collected three knives and two sets of brass knuckles. She had already pocketed the pistol the leader had carried. She smiled as she pocketed a nice amount of Polavian cash along with the keys to the black Mercedes.

She made sure the bodies were in the dumpster before using her wand to channel fire. She made sure the bodies burned quickly and hotly leaving nothing but charred bones and ash. She used wind magic to disperse any smoke to hide what she was doing. Once she was done she went to the Mercedes and opened the trunk. She tossed in the sneakers that she hoped some of the guys on the team could wear. She was not bringing the tacky track suits though. She had to draw a line somewhere. She smiled imagining Felix decked out in Thug Chic. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so hasty. Well too late now. She cleaned up the signs of a fight outside the store. She then went to check on the elderly lady.

The elderly woman was sitting at the cash register wringing her hands. Her eyes followed Rowan’s every move.

Rowan sighed. “Look, you remind me of a friend’s babushka. I couldn’t stand by and watch them do that to you.”

The elderly woman’s eyes seemed to clear up as that seemed to strike a cord for her. She sniffled. “My grandchildren don’t visit me anymore. Neither do my children.”

Rowan sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I am sorry to hear that. Do you want me to close the door? What else can I do for you?”

The elderly woman seemed to be coming out of her shock now. “I should do something for you. Thank you for helping me. I am sorry… that I thought you were with them or a rival gang.”

Rowan gave her an honest smile. “Well I am something else altogether. If anyone comes looking for them, tell them the truth. You gave them what they asked for and they left.” Rowan’s eyes glinted with dark mirth. “They were begging for a beat down and got what they deserved for terrorizing a babushka. They had no manners. I mean I would have offered to brew them a potion but I don’t think a competency potion would have helped them.” She shrugged as she finally saw a smile on the elderly woman’s face.

---

Rowan had tea and lunch with the lovely babushka. It turned out that the woman lived above the store. Once she got over her fear and understood that Rowan was truly not going to harm her. She was a gracious host. The woman kindly let Rowan grab some supplies from her store. The elderly woman enjoyed having some company. She traded recipes with Rowan. She let her borrow her kitchen to do some cooking. She made some food that she could pack away for tomorrow. The elderly woman’s store had a great deal of what she needed. She used the thug’s cash to pay for the ingredients she needed. The kind lady even let her borrow her shower to dye her hair black. It was about the only color that would cover her dark red hair easily. The old lady let her park the Mercedes in her garage. She promised to return and check on her tomorrow. She still needed to check out the black market and round up the rest of her ingredients. Maybe she could use the old lady’s kitchen to brew her potions? She walked back to the hideout with her backpack full of muffins for breakfast tomorrow, some homemade sandwiches, a thermos of tea, and some extra cash. She wanted to see if Oksana had located the black market yet.

Day 2: 06:51:02
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

---

As they moved into the apartment block and passed the drunkard, Borys caught Oksana’s glance at him. He understood perfectly. Which was a problem given the amount of alcohol in his system, because he immediately handed the drunk the half-drunk vodka bottle from his vest.

The drunkard’s face lit up like a sunrise as he accepted the bottle, immediately took a swig, leaned back to do so, lost balance, fell over backwards like a plank and immediately conked out on the ground.

Hey - Borys didn’t say anything.

As Oksana cleared the unit without being prompted to do so, Borys seemed to understand what was going through Felix’ head because he suddenly appeared at his side. “You know, i actually envy the lucky bastard who’ll marry her one day.” The smell of his breath no doubt made Felix wonder whether he had accidentally blinked himself back into the factory, “Because she’ll autofill arguments. He won’t have to say a thing, she’ll just know. Same result - can’t argue with a woman, much less a Polavian one - but half the effort.”

Conversation then turned to the ugly Warlock. Felix, of course, had to open his mouth.

”Well, Borys didn't kill her, for sure.”

“Yeah, rub it in! Asshole.” Borys grumbled loudly, the vodka definitely starting to win the fight for control. “I didn’t see you get halfway close.”

Rowan’s head snapped towards Oksana. “Wait a fucking minute! Welcome to the team? Didn’t this guy say he was hunting me too?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Borys shrugged, voice muffled by the cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Then planning happened. Smart people stuff. Not exactly Borys’ wheelhouse - some might say not even on the same boat. He was starting to doze off when something Felix said roused him back to consciousness.

”Since when did we become criminals?”

“Since we joined Reactor, basically. Try to keep up.” He snorted without any heat in his voice.

The crash of the door falling on the floor after he fumbled his grip on it announced Borys’ return.

“Got some carryalls.” Borys announced after he righted the door and set his backpack on the table, digging deep into it and digging out several tightly rolled up duffel bags. “Haggled it down from 8000 to six and two bottles. Got you a housewarming gift, too. Here.” He handed Oksana a small package, opening which would reveal several intramuscular syringes and one bottle of nasal spray, all labeled ‘K E T E M I Y N.’ “A guy here owed me a favor from prison. He’s got the good stuff. Only a little bit of rat poison.” He added after a pause.


Andrey Brzęczyszczykiewicz opened the door to his flat/drug lab with one hand, the other arm in a makeshift sling made of his jacket.
“Andryukha?” His brother and cook, Grzegorz, looked up from his work. “What the Hell happened to you?”
“Borys fucking Skala.” Andrey reached the counter and stuck one of the intramuscular Ketamine shots into his arm.
“The drunk who got beaten into 60 IQ in prison mugged you?”
“He didn’t even fucking rob me properly. Just fucking showed up, asked ‘Do you have weed and ketamine’ and when I said ‘Both,’ he just fucking broke my fucking arm, took the shit and fucking left! Who the fuck does that?”
“And you, what, let it happen, bratan?”
“I fucking didn’t! I fucking stabbed him and he just fucking laughed!”

“We’re square now.” He finished, opening his own package with a knife he didn’t have before, extracting a blunt from it and lighting up, taking a drag before holding it out for the room in a wordless offer.

“No luck on transportation though. Don’t ask.”


“What the fuck happened here?”

Novy Jork Police lieutenant Kleptovsky stood in the Żabka store’s parking lot, surveying the surreal scene - over a dozen cars broken into, all nearly identical MO: License plates missing, driver’s side window smashed, ignition cylinder and the wiring under the steering column damaged in clear attempts to hotwire the cars that would have worked on a VAZ-2105, but not present-day models. Well, ‘present day’ in Polavia, ‘last decade’ everywhere else.
As the handful of bills changed hands and disappeared into a pocket, the store attendant started talking. “Some short guy came in my store, bought three packs of Illyrian Sea Canals and two cans of Pilzno 12° and left. Couple minutes later, I hear cursing I swear crosses were falling off churches and banging. I look out, the nicer, newer cars have broken windows and open doors and midget’s standing in front of that one,” He pointed to the oldest car broken in, a beat up Ford work van that was nonetheless new enough to have an immobilizer and enough beercan-sized dents in the body to make an insurance agent hiccup. “Swearing like a sailor and banging one of the beer cans into the car until it burst open on him. Then he stole all the license plates and left, singing ‘Vladimir Central’.”
“Can you describe the suspect? What did he look like?”
“Wore Adidas-”
“Helpful…”
“Look, I don’t know.” The store clerk shrugged, “Normal? Guy, I wasn’t paying attention.”
Kleptovsky followed the store clerk’s gaze toward another customer that had been present - a dumptruck blonde in heels and a miniskirt - and mentally filed the case away as ‘cold.’

Taking a long drag off the blunt, Borys pulled a stack of license plates - at least 20 sets - from his backpack and dropped them on the table with a loud thud. “At least I got these. For when we get a car.”

Day 2: 06:54:32
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The Sandbox

“Since we joined Reactor, basically. Try to keep up.” He snorted without any heat in his voice.

Felix gave a snort, shrugging, Roxie looking pissed, yet Rowan making a very good point.

Rowan nodded. “Depending on what we can afford and what ingredients they have. Brewing potions will be cheaper than buying them. I will have to purchase a cheap soup pot or something like that to brew enough in. Again I have a few of those small gold bars and two of those illusion potions left we can sell. We can play Robin Hood and wait for local thugs to harass or shake down some local merchants and step in and relieve them of their money. We are going to need money to buy ammo. That is not going to be cheap. I am not sure what the going rates are here. I agree that a car would be nice. I also agree if we are going to steal one. Let’s pick one from a rich person that won’t miss it as much. It would make traveling incognito easier for us. A van would be even better since there are five of us. We could use it as a mobile base of operations. Some food for the road would be good too.”

Rowan waited to hear what the others came up with before she jumped back into the conversation. “We need information too. We need to pay attention to what the rumors on the street are. We need to find out what is going on with the PSA and try to follow up on any rumors about Manticore. It would also help if we find out if the underground is looking for us too or just the PSA.”

Roxie piped up, knowing the situation on the ground, and perhaps where Rowan was going- but knowing it was best to warn her friend.

"Agreed, if we hear anything, good to report it. But information is dangerous. Same people we're buying from, are the people who sell to the PSA. They don't care. My thoughts are, best we don't raise too much suspicion."

"You suggest we buy a shit-load of ammo, weaponry, vessels, and try not to raise suspicion?" Felix asked, as Oksana shrugged.

"Novy Jork has much in the way of opportunity."

The Lion and The Butterfly, Watcher-Witch and the Horse-Muncher were still mingling in the midst of it all, as the team split. Silas would head off to do his own thing, which was getting medical supplies, Rowan and Borys, well that was less known.

"Is this a good idea?" Roxie asked, as Felix sighed, the two the only ones left in the room.

"We have had a shit day so far. If we don't blow off some steam, I think we're going to kill each other."

Felix looked at Roxie, as a grin formed on her face.

"Speaking of. I have a way to get cash."

"Sure?"

---

Day 2: 11:23:01
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The Lion, The Witch and the Whorehouse

Pushing on through, Oksana sent a bolt through the main pimp's chest, throwing him against the wall as Oksana roared and threw her vine at him, pulling him tight against the table leg, pulling it taut and keeping him from moving. Without cutting his neck open.

The scantily clad, elf-ear wearing prostitute leaned around the corner, clearly scared. Who the fuck was coming to a whorehouse to fuck a cosplayed elf? This early in the day? Actually, when the dark haired Polavian witch in her overcoat seemed done with business, she gave a hand as if to show it was safe, waving away.

"It's clear. There's other places better than this." Roxie uttered, pulling the till draw open, hearing the man below gurgle as she stomped a boot into his head, reaching in and pulling cash, lobbing a bundle at Felix, who took it in hand, looking on at the gagged gangster that he'd taken down. As a lion, he'd had to hold from tearing the fucker's throat open, but on Roxie's request, had held back. Felix was dressed in a technical black raincoat, jeans, and seemed still out of place, albeit at least a bit more like a tourist in a foreign land. Who was currently supporting his team-mate to rob a brothel.

The crinkling of paper notes was enough to keep her satisfied, leaving the remainder to the occupants of the brothel in the opened up till, slapping the return key, coat taken off the nearby rack to cover her long-sleeved blouse, Felix keeping an eye on the area behind as they walked out.

"So why did we rob a whorehouse and potentially piss off the Roma Mafiya?

Roxie looked to him, sighing.

"Druid things. There's no agreements between us. They're like an ATM I guess, of people who are real pieces of shit. As you can currently see. Not exactly a top notch establishment. Fuck, at least pay the living wage." Roxie commented, as Felix looked confused, remarkable that he was actually feeling like he was less grey than Roxie for a moment.

"Right." Felix didn't want to ask. But when Roxie pushed his share into his hands earlier, well, there were no more questions.

"They going to hunt us?" He asked, looking back at the innocuous looking building, as Roxie shrugged.

"You didn't spill any blood, did you?" Roxie replied, as they headed across the square, Felix's shrug in reply saying it all.

"Good. Then in that case, they're too fucking stupid to know who hit them."

---

Day 2: 12:32:02
Kotlin Street Black Market,
Stari Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The market dealer looked around as if searching for police, before ushering in Oksana, then Felix inside.

"Comrade, anything you desire. Tell me. I am like.....men who look in crystal ball. Is it AK? AR-15?" The heavily Slavic man retorted, as Felix gave a straight reply.

"Well, I need bullets. Lots of bullets." Felix replied, cold in tone, to the point.

"You got cash?"

"Better." The peel of a small piece of gold bullion lit up the inside of the room.

"Regular ballistic. And some mana-tipped. On all the cartridges in this paper." Felix added, slapping down the card onto desk, the dealer giving a head tilt, and nodding, moving to backrooms with the shopping list.

Oksana in the meantime, slid out a rather fancy looking rifle from the wall, checking the bolt, held against shoulder, smirking.

"Oh, I have looked for you forever. But here, you, are." A gentle pull on the bolt of the AS VAL, a foregrip containing a crystalline piece that glowed green, as she carried it, and a few spare magazines. Similar to Upswing's, sure, but this one was a little more arcane.

"Part exchange?" Her question was direct. The man rolled his eyes, as Oksana slid her new finding across the table, as well as the PP-19 she'd stashed inside of her coat.

"Half price. And the rail system stays on the Vityaz when you give it to me." Oksana was sad to lose the rail and optic, but fuck it, for what it was, that was still a good deal.

"Five mags."

"Three."

"Four?"

"Four." Roxie smiled, sliding the cash across glass table, and PP-19, the 9x39mm rounds being brought out from a nearby screw box in plastic tubs, one of them glowing blue.

"Oooh. Now this is something wicked." Oksana chuckled, as Felix swept up the cardboard boxes of various ammo types, ready for the team's acquisition.

This VAL had something up its sleeve. If it came to a fight, she wanted to be ready.

---

Day 2: 13:32:01
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The ammunition cardboard boxes were dumped as Oksana looked as Borys brought out some ketamine, back at the apartment.

“Got some carryalls.” Borys announced after he righted the door and set his backpack on the table, digging deep into it and digging out several tightly rolled up duffel bags. “Haggled it down from 8000 to six and two bottles. Got you a housewarming gift, too. Here.” He handed Oksana a small package, opening which would reveal several intramuscular syringes and one bottle of nasal spray, all labeled ‘K E T E M I Y N.’ “A guy here owed me a favor from prison. He’s got the good stuff. Only a little bit of rat poison.” He added after a pause.

"You shouldn't have. I don't care if it has rat poison. I've had worse. Rowan, no judgement, please." She looked it through, checking the inhaler in particular.

"It will do." Oksana replied, the overcoat wearing witch checking the nasal spray, rotating it.

"I almost think you had a thing for drugging women, Borys. But you're too much of a little bitch to find out what being in a K-Hole is like." She grinned, throwing fire back, looking to Rowan, with almost a glimmer of a chuckle.

---

Day 2: 14:38:01
Novy Jork Castle,
Stari Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

A quick trip to the castle followed. Getting an overlook of the city, skyscrapers in one third, old, medieval-like buildings and gothic architecture in another, and black smokestacks in the rest, where Novi Grad spewed out steel, depression and vodka. Well, the former two, given vodka production had taken a serious hit thanks to this morning's activities.

A moment to decompress. Between buying more newts for Rowan and Oksana, to more gunsmithing content for Felix to use on making new shells tonight.

"So say, we get Pavel to agree to give us new papers. Then what?" Oksana asked, as Felix took some photos, blending in like any spy would, by being as much of a tourist as he could. Well, there was time to kill. And it was hardly like they had any better to be.

"We scarper and fuck off. I really want to go home and see my family."

"They'd rat you out to the police?" Oksana seemed to be realistic.

"You're not a dad, Roxie. You wouldn't get it. I'd try. Figure something out. That's my turf. This one's yours." Felix added, camera back down, overlooking the red-tiled rooftops of the city in spring, Roxie tsking.

"I wouldn't get turning into a lion either."

"Why the fuck are you so annoyed? Okay, your exit strategy then?" Felix asked, as Roxie turned around, hand on railing.

"Still don't know. And still don't know."

"I thought for someone who's got the ability to answer my reply, read my fucking mind near enough, you might?"

"Yeah, well, it gives me a migraine. I start hallucinating shit when I start putting too much focus to it. Look, I want to tell you all the answers, you ask the same shit, like Rowan, here we are."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Clever. No. Honestly. This is a mess. Sorry I'm no oracle. I just want to put space between me and them. Babushka isn't an option since you turned up. I would have drowned my sorrows if I hadn't come across you. Only way it stops me seeing involuntarily what I really don't want to see. Mostly. Just want to leave this behind. And the life. But feeling like we're part of something bigger. Something more scary. Something nobody else is going to solve." Roxie left a large gap, as they looked out across the main square, across to the hotel, city hall, and wider old quarter, before looking to Felix.

"How old is she?" She asked a question that cut under the ribs.

"Young enough to have a dad that shouldn't be here." Felix said, as Oksana looked up to him, sighing.

"Fuck." She looked out at the distant buildings, and mountains in the background, not knowing what to do with it.

Felix didn't either. "Yeah."

Oksana looked into horizon, sighing.

"We should go. I have a mutual friend to meet."

---

Day 2: 15:12:02
Kotlin Street, Stari Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Oksana saw Rowan sticking out on the street, and through a bit of positioning, ended up behind, knowing it was bad manners to scare someone, but a reminder for Rowan to keep a little more operationally secure. She'd ended up doing some good. Securing a car, making plenty of ends meet. But this side, well, Oksana could help with.

"Afternoon." Roxie chuckled, walking on by, nonchalant as ever.

"If want weapons, well, over there is quite a choice. He speaks your tongue poorly, but enough to get the job done. And vessels." She pointed out the road, and the market, stalls all out, and the particular tent that Roxie had visited and gone inside of earlier, a treasure cove of arms.

"PSA goons are light. Lighter than I thought, I suppose they are licking their wounds. Lot of Police around though. If you buy anything, hide it well. And do not use that fucking broom. Unless you want to get twigged on radar." Roxie sighed, looking around for watchers, possible listeners, from the look of someone who had been ex-Apparatus.

"Sorry. You deserve better from me. For what it's worth, you are good people. Everyone wants to know who you are, what you did. Meh. I don't care. You deserve out of this mess. Whatever happens." Roxie added, walking alongside, stopping by a lamp-post, looking on at it all.

"I haven't told Felix, but I think something much bigger is at play. But if it is, we'll talk later. Don't repeat the same spiel. I'd like to know specifics. But later." She added, walking with Rowan through towards the market, back to be a repeat customer, and get Rowan her bits from the black market.

---

Day 2: 15:41:21
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

The team were back in the apartment, as Felix turned back up, seeing Borys stoned out of his face.

He had achieved nothing.

Well, he had achieved something. A stack of 20 numberplates. Ketamine.

Oksana looked at them all, with a sigh.

"I'm getting food, if Felix, you sorted the pre-order. You get what you get. Not my rules. Uncle Josef's gives what we get." She didn't have much to add, as Felix looked to the Polavian on the floor, rolling his joint, combining the haze with booze, both dosed hard.

"Borys, you fucking idi...."

---

Day 2: 16:01:02
Uncle Joeef's Milk Bar
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Standing at the queue at Uncle Josef's, the lady looked equal parts depressed, if not even more bleak to even exist in this part of the world.

A cafe so bland, so bleak, so communist, it felt unchanged. But the portions were incredible, and remarkably, they took orders over the phone, and cash in hand payment.

"Name."

Roxie sighed, looking at the note.

"Valentina Cyckowa." She wanted to scream lots in that moment, knowing the dinnerlady's response would actually get something out of her, and Felix was still being a dipshit in the pre-order.

The thermoses, bags of sandwiches, and other mess tins with wrapped up food, would make for a feed for the team, as Roxie took them in the plastic bags, and in replacement of say, differently originating cuisine, spicy or otherwise, this would do. Traditional, hearty, stodgy, more or less communist food.

Milk Bars were traditional canteen-alternatives for communist workers, designed to feed, nourish and keep the people fed for minimal cost, and it felt like that continued into now, in a weird nostalgia. It felt archaic, almost unchanged, but for the team's purposes, this would do perfectly. It was much of bland food, but food nobody would take too much complaint with, from simple beetroot soups, to cheese pierogi.

---

Day 2: 17:02:21
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Coming back in, the paper bags of food were dumped on the remains of the drunk guy's table, Borys stoned out of his mind and shitfaced, Felix already licking, and so hungry he was still in his lion form, warm as hell, but also, off his face on catnip because he hadn't fucking eaten. And once that lion smelled that on the pack he carried, he was inhaling that shit.

"You're all a bunch of fucking morons."

Oksana sat down, looking to Rowan, pushing across the thermos of beetroot soup, pouring out her own after Rowan was done, as well as the tub of pierogi for all to promptly delete through inhalation. Cheese and potato. A holy grail. Polavian Pierogi were a dumpling for the gods, if there were any left.

"You're not in two places are you?" Roxie asked, looking on at Rowan, a terrifying image of the witch in front of her, as she saw the Ketamine inhaler across, brought in by Borys.

"No? Ah. Crap." Roxie said, leaning across and grabbing that inhaler, realising it was kicking in again. Too much exposure in the most chaotic environment yet. She had muffled it, so, so well, but now, the voices of five different realities were starting to come out of Felix's lionhead, and that meant she was going to start going out of her mind.

"Fuck it. It's been a long morning. Sorry, Rowan. You've probably explained yourself like fifty times. I don't want to hear it another two hundred because I'm out of my mind. That's a me problem." She inhaled, nonchalantly blowing off the long-running gag with a inhale of the inhaler, and leaning back, a full belly, and only a tiny bit of dissociative disorder triggering.

Felix looked across, the large lion only being able to watch as Roxie started inhaling, and leant back, completing the set, or at least, leaving Rowan probably annoyed she was the designated sober person left.

---

It was cold. Freezing. Like a shiver running deep in her spine, tattling, just pulling at sinews.

Roxie looked around, making out the towers, the lighting platforms, the alarm.

This wasn't her usual dream.

Where the fuck was she?

-----x-x-x---------------------------------------------------------xxx

Day 2: 18:32:04
Stolen Apartment
Novi Grad,
Novy Jork,
Capital Province,
Republic of Polavia

Relapse

The crew all sat there, Roxie having microdosed on ketamine and leaning against a sofa, dissociating from reality(ies), Felix had eaten catnip and was on a rotten sofa, having played out his high, slobbering an asleep Borys. As a lion. Which meant that even if Borys was invulnerable, he was now dealing with a significant amount of cat.

Checking her watch, Oksana lept forward. Like a pulse hit her, Roxie was back in the room, wiping her face with her blouse.

"Fuck. We need to get to Pavel's." Oksana mumbled, looking to Rowan first. The only person she thought responsible.

"Sorry. Borys bought stronger shit than I'm used to. Hey, speaking of, wake up, you high motherfucker." Roxie mumbled, looking at her hands, sighing, looking across. "What am I doing." She almost seemed sad, flicking herself up, walking across the room, the lion flickering out and becoming human, crawling off of the sofa and on top of Felix, back to life.

"Fuck...."

"We have 25 minutes to 7. Everyone, up. Gear on. Civilian, but be ready with guns hidden. Last hurdle." Roxie took a bit of command, looking to Silas.

"Do your punches solve hangovers?"

Silas thumped along in the team, looking back the way they came. And the carnage they left behind him.

Damn, and they haven't even been here all that long. He groaned, "We got a destination?" He asked. And so they did, it took abit but the team burst into an apartment. A single occupant and then they now have a safehouse.

Ideas are tossed about and Silas listens carefully. Then pipes up, "I'm going to go looking for some local clinics, I'm a medical man, I can do somework and see what news and medication I can swipe. If we're lucky I'll have painkillers and other things so we can all have some on hand stuff, and I don't have to run through gun fire to try and get to you all."

As people started to split up, Silas doffed his carrier plate vest, his big KS23, but kept his knife and knuckle dusters.



Silas had walked into the clinic 45 minutes ago. People had stared at him suspiciously. The receptionist, a tired young woman ready to rattle off a rote line, she stopped when Silas produced his medical license. She stared, unable to immediately process a medical professional walking in and offering services. A doctor and clinic admin was called. Silas ended up in a small office. And he laid it out, he's in for the day, has some time, knows that there's always a need for Medical help, he'd seen the full clinic waiting room. And then he revealed he has magic. And showed it by punching an older man with a broken shoulder. A quick jab, and the man had cried out in shock at first getting a good hard jab to the chest, then with delight as his shoulder had knitted.

This started a hours long session, things that actually needed attending too were brought to Silas in an exam room, he'd hear their problem, and if he could he'd heal them with a poke. IF he couldn't he'd send them to the local hospital in the area. Not even he can work miracles on Cancer.

Throughout the day he drifts in and out of the clinic medicine room, pocketing hard syringes, medical supplies that could be missed like bandages and tourniquets and what not. Medical things that can be missed and at the same time prove useful to the team.



Silas walked back in grinning, placing a roll of cash on the table, his contribution then began to empty his pockets, bandage bundles, painkillers, a bottle of smelling salts, a few medicine injectors, things like penicillin and other useful bits incase any of the team got sick.

Silas then sits down and pulls a can of imported beer from a pocket, "Just a little pick me up." He announced.

He's about half finished the can when it's announced they're going out again. With a sigh he gets to his feet, grabbing his pistol and tucking it away, along with an extra mag, then the KS which he hides under a longer coat he finds, along with a handful of shells, enough to atleast contribute to a fire fight, and well his ever present knuckle dusters.

"Fine fine. We'd best be careful." HE looks around the room, "Anyone need a touch up?" He flexes his fists his knuckle dusters glowing, and grins wickedly.