Mutant Impossible

Scales of War, Part I

RocI clutched the makeshift seat as our ‘ride’ landed in the outskirts of Frankfurt, Germany with the beat of massive wings and a thump. Ivan’s feathered conuration faded into the mists from whence it came and I looked around at our makeshift team of shadowrunners running Ops for MI6. The assassin, the muscle, the conjurer, the menatlist, and me. A junior logistics agent that somehow managed to find herself a Stark suit. I looked over at Assembly who sat contemplating their mission. As a captain he outranked me in her majesty’s service and was in charge of our mission. At least until what little remained of MI6 could gather. In the meantime, they would all have to do. The world was in dire need of saving. Again.

A device known only as the ‘Hand of God’ was wreaking havoc on the world’s capitals. First London, now Paris. Gone. A mote in god’s eye vanquished, turned to ash. Damndest thing, our chief suspect was the Pope himself and our mission…bust into the most heavily defended fortress I’d ever seen. It looked like something out of the gothic era, on stims and alphaware.Hand of god

Investigations in the sprawl turned up little except a dying elf and swarms of insects hell-bent on burrowing into your spine. The damned things left you a drone if you were human. Dead if you were an elf, orc, or any other metahuman. Horrible death or enslavement. Neither choice I cared for much.

So that’s where we found ourselves, sitting quietly in the dark as low-lying clouds ripped past the windows. The familiar beat of giant, invisible wings and preparing our gear to attempt the impossible. To assault the unassailable. One last mission to save all of metahumanity, the world. Blank stares and grimaces of ‘not-getting-paid-enough-for-this-drek’ all around the cramped cabin suddenly turned into confused looks. A muted chime echoed from someone’s commlink.
A phone call, for me. What the drek? Minutes away from certain death and I had a phone call. I shrugged. What the hell, I answered it. An offer, avoid certain death and assess new options and support from an as yet unknown source. We’d been grasping for straws for this mission, and had drawn the short one. Here was our chance to draw again. Our free ‘do-over’ before things turned pear-shaped. We took it.

With this new client offering us unsurpassed resources, we managed to find a pair of shadowrunning teams out of Berlin that were flying in on a couple of military cargo planes. They were due in a couple of hours. Null sheen and smooth flying boys, you’re the cavalry and about to save our asses. In the meantime I had some work to do and better yet, we had a much better prospect for an Op. A biotech research site specializing in volatile aromatics, in particular the spontaneous generation of custom aromatics based on samples taken. Exactly what we needed, bug repellant. We hit it and lit it. A dull orange glow lighting the edge of Frankfurt as we flew to a nice quiet spot where I could work. New data from Mr. Stark had given me theoretical equations I could put to practical application. A way to shield against the kind of energy signatures detected at ground zero for London and Paris. One that might, just might work and save our asses. Maybe give us a fighting chance even. Only the red dawn would tell. There was just one thing we were forgetting. One rule, above all else when running the shadows that we had forgotten.

Never, Dunkelzahn secrets cover

Ever,

Make a deal with a DRAGON!

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