2007-08-04: Operation: Angel Dust


DFElena_icon.gif Eric_icon.gif DFJack_icon.gif Gene_icon.gif DFUnknown_icon.gif DFPeter_icon.gif Ramon_icon.gif DFTrina_icon.gif

Guest Starring: Unlucky NPCs working for Homeland Security, Banana Phone, The Black Pearl, Julia IV and KITT.

Summary: Dark Angel needs extraction, and the Saints go to do it. They have two additional people in the group, one welcome addition, her father. The other is… not so welcome.

Dark Future Date: August 4th, 2009

Operation: Angel Dust

Route 17

Route 17, near Binghamton.
0300 Hours.

The coordinates, once translated by Gene, turn out to be somewhere around the bend of Prospect Mountain, what the locals called "Kamikaze Curve." It was certainly fitting, and whenever Jack gets the word that this is where the extraction would be occuring, he would know by experience that Elena, who served as the Saints strategist, picked the location for a reason: given the moniker of the dangerous pass, only experienced drivers would be able to maneuver and fight well in the dark around that area.

It also helped that Elena knew about it thanks to her motorhead brother, Manny.

Clearly, there were advantages for being born a local girl.

But so far, whenever the Saints' mobile base, lovingly dubbed 'The Black Pearl' thanks to the non-reflective black paint that had been chosen for its overall body's color, gets on Route 17, the roads are wide, in contrast to the cramped and choked arteries in the city's proper, and vacant. It was 3:00 am in the morning. It also helped that people were afraid to go out a certain hour these days, no matter how far off the boonies they were.

No sign of anything, yet, but the air seems alive with -something-. It was as if Time and Space, or the Fates, just KNEW that this night wasn't going to end without fire and blood.

And the Saints have learned early on to trust their instincts.


"Nitrous is green… Green on armaments… Green on countermeasures… Green on pre-flight Trina smooch…" Jack flips hefty toggle switches and punches buttons in careful sequence as he verbally walks himself through his prep checklist. Julia IV's dash is lit up like a Vegas billboard with LED indicators, glowing dials, warning lights that flash, and a great deal of other equipment that's mostly been torn from helicopters and jet aircraft. He nods briskly, apparently satisfied. "We're good to go," he murmurs to Peter, who's currently occupying the passenger's seat. "Strap yourself in. This is gonna be exciting." His rough, raspy voice and sinister grin give the word 'exciting' a new and creepy definition. One gloved fingertip strokes tenderly against a panel that's been set in place of a stereo. It's littered with buttons, each with something like 'FUCK YOU' ':)' or ':(' stamped on them.

Atop Julia's hood, a new attachment has been mounted into the hardpoint. Multi-missle launcher, bitches. Several rows of conical missiles have been treated with choice phrases for their recipients. 'THIS ONE'S FOR SAL!' 'BURN BABY BURN' 'PRETTY LITTLE DEATH'. Some have hungry teeth drawn on them.

Oh yeah. Julia is parked in the back of The Black Pearl. Momma's got a bun in the oven, and this baby is mean.


Ramon is not a very good driver. Manny did not get that gene from him. He did sober up for this, but he still relinquished control of keys. Besides. Relinquishing control of the keys got him his own rocket launcher, which he has named Kitten. His kitten, after all, is named Bulldog. Maybe he needs to acquire a hamster, and name it rocket launcher, and thus the circle will be complete. He is not wearing his suit, but has gone to a black teeshirt, jeans, and a dark leather jacket. His eye is perpetually narrowed. He's just waiting for the signal.


As soon as he'd been informed who this 'Angel' person happened to be… it was pretty much impossible to keep the resident packing plant guest from going along. Good thing Jack agreed, even if he hasn't had much a chance to talk to some of the group— he recognizes them, but… As Peter's not much of a danger driver, he takes the past offer to see what the brand new Julia is capable of, and rides shotgun. The offer of weapons has been waved off a few times, even with all the mounted weaponry, and fancy buttons, and he looks a little nervously over at Jack, but does 'strap in' as instructed. "I'm— guessing that most of those aren't good buttons, right?" He's just checking, but some of them really worry him. "I mean… good for us, bad for them?"


Behind the wheel of the Pearl, a familiar head is seen. Long black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, Trina Mah has an easy grip on the steering wheel. She's outfitted with a small headset and microphone, and her black boot pulls an even — if brisk — pace out of the large vehicle. Her faded blue denim jeans are riddled by holes, a lucky pair if ever she had one. Her black cotton camisole, trimmed in black lace, is pristine by comparison. Against her clavicle, a battered but sturdy silver cross dangles prominently. She's pulled out all of her charms for this one. Blue eyes, trimmed in a liberal application of black eyeliner and mascara, are glued to the road in front of her, barely blinking.

Then there's a look at a few gadgets on the dash, including a clock. Into that microphone that rests against her cheek, and to the vehicle at large, Trina finally speaks. It's the first time since they set out that she has chosen to do so. "Alright, fellas. We're comin' up on the rendez-vous point. We're lookin' to be tic on time, so make sure you've got your asses prepped and ready to go."


"Night vision is online… Not getting anything yet." Gene offers as he sits in the back of the 'Black Pearl', supposedly the 'stealth' mobile unit. While Gene meant for it to be a 'slip-in and out' sort of ride, it was like giving a silencer to a Viking. Out of the many missions he's been on, he can count on one hand the times they went smoothly and according to plan. Despite this, he continues to look over the various views on his computer, which is patched into the cameras on top, the sides, and behind the big rig. The 5x Zoom feature reveal nothing by air or land. That's either really good or really bad.

Currently, Gene's wearing a black windbreaker, though it is unzipped a bit to reveal a tattered shirt. It has a Yoshi using his tongue on a Goomba with 'GET OVER HERE' written underneath. For pants, bulky and worn black jeans. Old chucks tap the floor as a clean shaven young man look about with tired blue eyes. Gene's as good to go as he usually is, having popped his 'special' pill before the mission just in case things ran long. Despite his concern for Elena, he wears a small smile on his features. Somehow, in thinking he lost everything and everyone; he's been totally at peace with his world going to hell. And they call him the crazy one because he's usually in a good mood.

"I guess while things are quiet, I presume a quick little team prayer would be out of the question? Just for safe return and all that?" The young man looks around to those in the cabin and then looks to the screen again. "Never mind, I'll just say it to myself and Jesus…" There is a short pause before Gene abuses the team radio system again. He made it, he figures that gives him the right to say whatever he wants on it.

"…Jesus, you rocks the hiz-ouse. Please let us get Elena safely, let us all come out safely, and keep us from killing everyone in sight. Unless you want us to smite them, then let us tear into them like Prime tears into chicken. Amen."


Settled a few feet away from where Julia awaits is a dark shadow of a sleek looking high powers racing bike. Its a Ninja. Because. You know. It /has/ to be a Ninja. Black and silver the little vechicle just screams speed. Of course thats not all thats seen. Slapped to either side of the frame are a pair of long and lean looking air cooled submachine guns. Small bore size, high speed, low recoil. Rockets would be a little bit much in such a small little bike, but the machine guns look just right. Little lights and LEDs on the body of the bike are green, and a big button in the middle of the display marked 'Mr Happy' shines a distrubing red.
Straddling the bike Eric sits with a smirk on his face. He's wearing a leather biker jacket, black leather pants, thick boots, and gloves. He just grins slightly to himself as he glances over at Julia and her new parts. "…oh its gonna be a hot time tonight." He murmurs before slidding the helment over his head. Flicking on the HUD inside the helment he blinks as targeting rangefinders and status symbols pop up in his line of vision. He lets his eyesight adjust to it all before flicking on the comm system there just in time to catch Trina's commet. "…ready and fired up here." He murmurs as he turns over the engine of the tiny powerful machine.
A pause at the Prayer before he smirks and adds. "…and may no Jenkinsing be done here tonight. Amen." Pause.


"Prime. Are you sure you should be doing this?" The voice of William Daniels comes out of the speaker box located within the vehicle that a certain wisecracking replicator is seated in.

"Relax, KITT. We know what we're doing." Prime replies, shifting slightly in his seat as he reaches to get his jPod out of his pocket.

KITT, for all intents and purposes, has been built from the ground up and fiddled with by the likes of Gene, Candywasteland Special FX and EvoSoft Tech Support in Association with Lancaster Electronrics and Sponsored by Radio Shack and a little known thing called The Black Market. All of these venues have combined to turn KITT from an exact replica to a full on super version of the classic television star car.

The interior looks just like the old one, though it sports a more modernized bay of bells and whistles. Buttons, dials, levers, monitors and a dock for the jPod are all glowing dimly with the power coursing through the veins of the car. It's practically alive. An extension of Prime himself, more or less.

Unlike some of the other vehicles, KITT does not rest on the inside of The Black Pearl. Oh no, the moment they got the rig, Prime had Vehicular Support hook up something special. On top of the Pearl is a Launching Dock platform designed to fit KITT perfectly. The dark color of KITT tends to blend in with the rig itself, thus giving it the sweetest camo available… and making these two vehicles a match made in vehicular heaven.

"Honestly, Prime. Reconsider our options. I've just had my tires rotated." Oh Mr. Feeny.




Jack likewise speaks into his microphone, broadcasting a message to the rest of the crew. "Amen, Reverend Gene. Okay, people. Game time. You all know what to do. Let's get out there and bring our girl home." His voice crackles away to static, but picks up again a second later. "Last one to kill a bad guy buys the first round."

He winks, keys his mic off, and reaches over to slap Peter on the leg. "Trust me, boy-o. Those buttons are all good." Suddenly serious, he clears his throat and glances away self-consciously. When he whispers his own prayer, his rough voice is low but still audible. "God, I dunno if you're still listenin', but if you are, I need somethin'. You make sure everybody comes home safe, y'hear? If I lose somebody today, I'ma have things to say to your ass. Amen."


Gene detects nothing…until now.

The Nightvision cameras detect activity. Several quick shapes maneuvering around the bend and making a death run towards where the Pearl is driving along in Trina's pace.

Outside, "Angel" suddenly roars forward, the beat up looking vehicle she stole catching the dim light of the gray-blue moon overhead. The dated-looking Kawasaki slams rear-wheel first into the concrete, before the front wheel follows suit. The slender figure clad in black, with the helmet over her head to protect her identity once she had shed her disguise a few days ago, tucks her body tightly on the sides of the vehicle, and her gloved fingers - strange gloves they were, black impressed with tiny, metallic plates to cover the knuckles (and to give some oomph to punches) - twisting the handlebar controls of the bike. She moves in a zig-zag pattern…and there's a reason why.

Several feet behind her is a veritable train of official-looking vehicles. Two jeeps, two humvees, and two sedans. A total of six, and all with tainted windows and some reinforcements of their own. They all expected to catch one rat tonight.

Unfortunately, this rat happens to be affiliated with one of the most organized and well-funded terrorist outfits around.

The bluetooth communicator in her ear winks a blue light on occasion, but this is covered up by her helmet. She's wearing it now, having linked it to the Saints' private channel.

"Black Pearl this is Dark Angel, I see you. Armored bandits on my six, I can't shake them in a straight line. Hope you've got some lights for me."

There's actually a flinch at Jack's words from his passanger. Peter can't help but look a little out of place here. He's starting to realize that they really aren't joking about going into war and… He's a little paler in the face than he had been before, avoiding actually looking back at the driver and boss who allowed him along. This isn't who he is… There's prayers going around, and he closes his eyes briefly, but doesn't have quite the faith they have in God, so he just takes a steadying breath and sets hi jaw. For a moment, there's the briefest hint of the man he'll become. But only just a moment.

It's her voice that snaps him out of it, causing him to open his eyes. There's an unsteady breath, before he looks down at one of his hands, thoughtfully and distainfully. This is not going to be a good night, is it?


"Gene, could you please open the back?" Ramon asks, ever so nicely. "I'd like to say /my/ prayer now." He stomps to the back, and sets Kitten on his shoulder, looking through the sights. He'll just wait for that door to open. Whenever it does, he's going to target the lead humvee. His mouth curves into a cold smile. It's almost happy. He sets his feet. The cold night air in his face, the weight of destruction on his shoulder. He hisses a rough, "/Vaya con Dias/, Mamabichos." And then he pulls that trigger.


To Gene's prayer, Trina offers a quiet 'Amen'. Then there's Eric's addition. There's a scowl, and she looks to the small television on the console that feeds from the back of the Pearl. Too low to probably be picked up the mic at her lips, she mutters. "What the Hell is Jenkinsing?" Stupid pop culture references that she never gets. These kids (who are really only a few years younger than her at most), and their unending pop references. It's like a foreign language sometimes. Whatever.
Then there's sound over her headset. Trina smiles grimly, and then she reaches partway across the console in order to flip a switch. "Lemme get that for ya, Gene." Behind her, there's a whir as the Pearl's back bay begins to peel open, and a ramp extends. "Alright, boys. Back gate's open. Have a *blast*, Ramon, and then why don't y'all go earn your keep." It's a joke, see? Funny ha ha.


"You heard her, Saints. Let's light 'em up!" Jack sparks Julia's IV's engine, revs it twice, then floors the accelerator. The large-bodied classic car leaps out of the Pearl and hits the ground with a rubbery screech and squeal of tires. The Irishman takes his car well past the redline as he shifts up into second, driving on the wrong side of the road, swerving, and generally using up at least four of he and Pete's nine lives in the landing. With careful, precise taps of his fingers, he adjusts the missile pod's radar pipper until it lines up on one of the sedans.


The impact of Ramon's rocket sends up a gout of flame and a billowing cloud of smoke that fills the tunnel. For a moment, everything is quiet on Homeland Security's side of the cloud. Then that moment passes. Julia soars into sight with a grinning Irishman behind the wheel and a scared Italian kid riding shotgun. Now that his target is back in sight, Jack pushes one of the :) buttons mounted into the dash. In response, a radar-guided missle clicks into it's firing position and takes off, still homing in on the sedan.


Eric just nods once towards the voice in his ear. He is grinning though, grinning quite a bit infact. Once would call it an almost manic grin infact he they could see it behind the black plastic that covers his features. A glance over to the side where a covered box is hidden in a cubby on the side of the truck. Without his mic on he murmurs. "Stay, your for later," Then he laughs softly to himself and revvs the engine. He shakes his shoulders and then reaches back to check the action on the MP 7 SMG that he has hung from the shoulder. Thats the only visible weapon at the moment at least. Then the ramp comes down and he laughs once again before slamming the gas to full and sending the bike hurling out of the back of the truck and down the ramp.

So much for taking his own advice.

He hits the pavement with a squeel of tires and the smell of burning rubber and gas. Veering off to one side to give Elena and Jack a way through he twists the handles, sending the bike leaping forwards, easily keeping up with Jack and his mad dash. He zig zags to one side of Julia, his own weapon system locking onto one of the jeeps. He grins viciously as thumbs the triggers, a high pitched whine indicating the caseless assult weapons on the side of his bike springing to life as the hurl high velocity and armor piercing death towards the Homeland Security vechicle as his own bike and the young man on it trail whisps of smoke from the explosion that he just jetted through.

"Drinks are on me after this!" He calls over the comlink before he laughs, his voice cutting off as he concentrates on driving.

"For the record, Ramon, that is /not/ a prayer. That is-" Gene's comment that follows is cut off by the explosion. Figuring he should let the matter drop for the time being, Gene just begins to run part two of he usual game plan. First step, get information of the enemy. Second step, use information on enemy to get more information on enemy. "Tapping into their information now…" Gene frowns as he sees that he is not connecting. "Trina, can you put the plug into the radio jack…. I think the explosions took it out or something. There should be some tape on the side, use that to keep it on." Yes she's driving, but she should be able to multitask. "We have two jeeps, two humvess and one or two sedans. Oh, and Angel. Try not to hit our teammates, in case you forgot."

Once Trina does what she needs to, Gene merely uses the scan to sweep the radio transmissions and organize them into packets for him to listen to. Once he gets a general idea of what they are planning or if they are calling back to their HQ, he goes from 'spy' to 'fry'. Using what he calls his 'Passive Aggressive Jamming System', Gene uses a more powerful freq to override the radio channels they are using. Using the scanner to continue to see what channel they are on, Gene can effectively override their radio to have them hear whatever he wants. What is the song they will hear?

"o/~Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring… Banana phone! Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring… Banana phone! I've got this feeling, so appealing,

"o/~Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring… Banana phone! Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring… Banana phone! I've got this feeling, so appealing, for us to get together and sing. Sing! o/~"

As the song plays, he begins to prep the Triple Bs. What does that stand for? Stay turned to find out (or to listen to more Banana Phone).


"Prime. When exactly did this become a religious event? There's quite a bit of worship going on." KITT is not exactly capable of computing the true meaning of the transmissions coming through its communications port and thus the questions are tossed out as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, though, Prime is incapable of answering. All he's got right now, in the world, is the sound of Elena's voice in his ear. He does hear KITT's random vocalizations and ends up with a "Shhhh. My Angel needs lights. Let's give her some."

KITT activates the headlights (w/ Bright Beams) from atop the big rig. Those beams are extra bright and should give Elena the comfort that she needs that her friends, family and her Knight are all here. She better get her comfort quick, too, because somebody's got their hands on the steering wheel of classic funk style and they are ready to get this party started.

"I'm comin', Angel." is said through whatever microphone is located within KITT. If Elena hears it, great. If she doesn't, it shouldn't matter because within the next moment, Prime is reaching down to press PLAY on his jPod.

~ Song: Hell Yeah by Rev Theory ~

As the music kicks up within the classic car, KITT shifts gears, back wheels spinning and gaining speed. The docking bay kicks to life and the guard railing drops, allowing Prime to stomp on the gas and send KITT racing towards the end of the rig. It takes less than a second for KITT to reach the edge and the car goes airborne, gliding for a bit over the smoke and explosion of Ramon's Spanish Inkillsition. It's all in cool cinematic slow motion too, by the way.

KITT's tires finally hit the street, road, ground.. whatever and Prime yanks the steering wheel to the side, sending the car into a flat spin. KITT slams the brakes on himself and the car ends up stopped on horizontal… in the middle of the road. Saints on one side… other bad mofos on the other side. The window rolls down and Prime narrows his eyes on the targets that are of 'evil' persuasion. He just sits there for a moment, taking stock of what Gene's saying and locking his eyes on a Sedan. He hates Sedans. They always F'd him up in GTA all those times. Still, there are Speeding Saints on the other side and he's going to have to get out of the way.

The loud sound of something being cocked and loaded can be heard as Prime swings his arm up and out of the window. In his hand is a Purple Cannon. People with a good eye and that know Prime's previous persona will recognize it as Darkwing Duck's Gas Gun. But, this is a Saint. And the gun just looks like that, because it's cool. It shoots something completely different, though. Like Grenades. Which, for the record, gets fired out of the barrel in the next second. The grenade goes sailing in the direction of the Sedan's windshield while Prime answer's the song blaring through KITT's radio…

"Hell Yeah."


There's a grimace. Even as the shadow master cries out that it's on him, he knows the truth. If the declaration on who buys the drinks stands, then they'll have to be on him, because as soon as it becomes obvious that they won't just accept disabiling them… Peter's not even sure he can do anything. His hand's actually shaking a little until he clenches it into a fist. Yes, he's terrified, but he's from before the storms, before the war, before the detainment and resistance… this isn't who he is. And it isn't who he wants to be. There's just some things he's not ready for. And this is one of them.

He hadn't asked to go along just to see what the car could do, or watch them kill people, he came to try and make sure that Elena made it back to them. So he squints into the smoke trying to catch sight of Elena— of any counter attacks they might launch. Maybe if he can at least make sure nothing hits them… then he'll have come here for a reason. If not… At least he can tell Jack he saw his new toys when he gets back to the present— and hope he never has to use them again ever.


"Oh, I'm sorry, Gene," Ramon rasps, his cruel smile growing crueller. Once in the distant past he was a man full of remorse over killing one man. But the defenses he built against ever killing again snapped as the loss of his children hit. He had no lifeline to guide him home. "Let me try again. Mother Mary, may these putas find remorse through the smell as they bend over and kiss their sorry asses goodbye." Now he aims at the humvee in the back. Smoke in the back, smoke in the front, fire in the skies…might confuse Homeland further. Might keep the one in back, with less attention on it, from being a pain in the ass. He rocks backwards with the considerable recoil. He is a man whose right shoulder is going to feel like it went through a high quality blender come morning. But he won't give a flying…bannana.


Kitten meows. If meowing sounded like the hiss of a small cannon that fires projectiles with a sizeable yield, the rocket streaking off in a white arc as Dark Angel slides her pilfered bike away from her father's angry 'prayer.' The humvee doesn't even know what hit it. The rocket slams right into the front grille, and the car explodes. This is what happens when you get the shittier newer models and not the ones they actually used for desert warfare. The flaming hunk of metal continues wheeling around, skidding and spinning, dragging black streaks of rubber across the concrete and sending fiery debris all over the place.

The smoke is thick and instant. Most of the flames are clinging to the windshield that had been blown wide open, sharp fragments embedded onto the faces of the people driving. Not like they would be saying anything else any time soon, not with the way the remains of the vehicle slams into the concrete divider and explodes in a ball of fire.

Chaos ensues. The convoy following the beat-up Kawasaki scatters. The sedan directly behind the lead humvee swerves violently out of the way. Given how the flames were lighting up the darkness of Kamikaze Curve, it doesn't take long for the other vehicles to realize something was very wrong.

To those monitoring communications, staticky voices can be heard from the enemy's side of the road.

"What the FUCK?!"
"Shit! Lead is down! What the hell is going on?"
"….shit. It's the black rig! The quarry's a Saint! I repeat, the quarry's a Saint! Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!"

"-Someone- get us aerial supp—!"

This particular transmission is interrupted by a hail of frantic yelling. Why? Because Julia IV suddenly tears out of the smoke screen, a missile firing out of its secret and souped-up crevices. The sedan, much like the humvee, explodes in a ball of fire, the vehicle spinning out of control over the highway.

"Get headquarters on the wire!" blares out another enemy transmission, just as….Bananaphone suddenly takes over their radio.

Cue the collective: "…………"

Followed by a: "What the FUCK IS THIS?!" Of course, no one can hear that anymore, because GENE PHREAKED BANANAPHONE.

"Angel" doesn't even look at Julia flying out from the back of the Black Pearl. She just keeps going forward, zig-zagging and pretty much trying her best to be a pain in the ass target to home in on. Specks of blood fly when a bullet slices at her shoulder and one pegs her thigh, but as Eric has told her multiple times in the past, she cheats. She feels no pain, her eyes gleaming gold from the helmet as she uses her mastery of her Boost to heighten…well, EVERYTHING. In those eyes, everything moved a little slower than they actually did. The objective was to neutralize the threat, and vanish. She's not going to linger around to be a liability - her weapons are spent. She's bleeding. All she has left are her powers….but there's only so much she can do while she's on Boost and she needs it to navigate a high speed chase.

Lights fire up. It almost blinds her, but she sees the way now. When the transmission from Prime fires back at her, she grins - even if the helmet masks the expression. "I see you Knight. Pave the road. By the way, there was one dude at the very back who was talkin' shit about your mama's last movie back in the camp."

This is on cue with the second sedan's windshield exploding thanks to a volley of grenades hurled at it by a giant purple cannon. BOOOOOOOM. FWOOOOOOOOSH! But that wasn't the vehicle in the back that Elena was talking about in transmission. Two jeeps and one humvee left.

And these start fighting back.

A grenade launcher pokes out from one of the Jeeps….not to blow up the attackers but towards the motherload. It tries to tear away enough to flank and fire the things INSIDE of the open back of the big rig. Meanwhile, the other Jeep is crippled, exploding and flipping over after Eric nails it. When Ramon fires at the second humvee, it veers off. Figures start un
unrolling the windows. More weapons are out. Shots are fired towards Eric and KITT when the remaining humvee tears through the other side. A grenade is launched towards Julia, which has a long and proud history of attracting heavy fire.

In Trina's frontview, the Kamikaze Curve approaches. It is a dangerous pass, twisting around Prospect Mountain. With incendiary devices being launched at her from the pesky, remaining Jeep, the challenge is to keep the rig in control with an open and highly vulnerable ass-end. Because getting buttraped by a Jeep would just be plain humiliating.


A grenade launcher? That Peter can handle. Opening his fist finally, he gestures towards the grenades launched and snatches them out of the air and sends them sailing further and it goes sailing safely off into another direction, though he's careful to hold it in midair when it detonates— he's nothing if not worried about hurting or killing anyone. What these people are doing— he can bare witness to if he must, but he's not sure he can participate in it anymore than making sure some of the major damage doesn't happen to them. He can't stop individual bullets, but he can handle grenades, they're visible.

But it's not just the grenades he can handle… but the launcher itself. Once they've detonated safely, he reaches for the launcher itself and does his best to rip it right off the jeep. He doesn't want them using that anymore.


Jack jerks the wheel, skidding Julia to the side and avoiding the worst of the shrapnel from the many explosions. Still, his vehicular lady is going to need a paint job after this is all over. Swearing, he pushes the FUCK YOU button and holds it down. The 5.56mm machine gun mounted behind the grille flares up and unloads two hundred-ish rounds as he strafes by the surviving humvee. With his attention consumed by the conflict, he doesn't even notice that his Passenger Seat Artillery Unit isn't operational until they start getting fired at. He's too busy swinging around for another pass. He lines up the radar pipper and pushes the :) button twice, riffing two missles at the humvee in quick succession.

He'll be grateful about the grenade later, Pete. Really.


The Greatest Tech Ever (or so he claims) is silent to Ramon's response. The cheerful smile he had that comes only from Banana Phone fades as he gets such a callous response. It's not the emotion in that voice that concerns Gene, but rather the lack of it. Will his friends become as bloody thirsty as the beasts they fight? If so, when and what will Gene do about it? He knows out of all the times to think about such matters, this is NOT a good one Now that the mission is underfoot and return fire is on its way, the young man does what he can not to distract his teammates. Maybe he'll try once more to talk about how every life is precious. That even in these dark days, they have to be better than those they fight. Maybe it will get him something other than the usual yells of justification and need for retribution. Gene doubts it.

Sighing, Gene just looks to the camera. "We have three cars left. Two JEEPs and one Humvee. Please disable them soon. I'd prefer not to have Trina drive me off a cliff to my death unless she buys me dinner first." Considering how cheap Trina is, he knows that adding that caveat means she'll NEVER be allowed to drive him off a cliff. Gene watches the action on the cameras, ensuring that there is no other back-up around. There was talk of Saints before, the young tech unsure of what Homeland knew about the Saints or their planned method for dealing with them. You know, besides the usual 'slow painful death' stuff that's expected.


"Take the heat off Angel, I got the fly," Eric's voice cracks over the comm system as he shoots past the flaming wreck of the first jeep. He grins viciously behind his mask as he glances behind him, and then jerks the controls around. There is a skidding, screaching sound as the tires bite into the pavement and he wrenches the bike around to face the other direction. Bullets whizz around him, one impacting his arm, another grazing his shoulder. He dosn't seem to notice though. He'll realise it later. A grin then before he keys in the comm.

"Knight, Duel Tech…I'm gonna need something a bit bigger for this," he calls. "…and give me something good to dance too." He adds after a moment before he revvs the engine again and goes streaking off.

Right towards the front of KITT.

Speeding towards the other Saint, Eric pops the front wheel of the bike into the air at the last moment, using the front of KITT as a ramp to go sailing up and over the big black car. His hand detaches from the controls to reach out in the air…and snatch the compact 20mm grenade launcher that is suddenly tossed from KITTs window for this express purpose. He continues to sail up and over the car, racking a round into the weapon. The bike, propelled by the massive engine, flies through the air…

And over the other Jeep speeding after Trina.


With a dull thump he fires a pair of grenades into the top of the vechicle before finally coming back to the ground skidding to a stop.


As Gene complains about the failing radio, the Saints' mechanic dives into her typical and eloquent mother tongue. "Fuck." With one hand still on the wheel and eyes still glued to the road, Trina's other hand snakes out to carry out Gene's request in a Braille fashion. As soon as it's done, and she uses that same hand to flick the bay doors' switch to bring up the ramp partway to keep the Pearl driving forward, on target and on schedule. Then over the airwaves, the dark haired woman makes an announcement in her very best Southern-twinged Airline Stewardess voice. "Attention, passengers. Please notice that the driver has turned on the Put On Your Fuckin' Seatbelt sign. Sharp turn coming up in five… four… "
Trina's hands are tightly holding onto the steering wheel, as well as her own special version of a hand brake for this beautiful rolling monstrosity, prepped for the maneuvring that has earned her nothing less than a shiny gold star on missions past. There's an unhappy skid as one of the incindiary devices gets a little too close for comfort. She swerves a little, and the tragically top heavy Black Pearl rocks a few times before settling squarely back on her ten tires. There's a dark, evil mutter, just for Gene, interrupting her countdown. "I AM NOT GOING TO DRIVE YOU OFF THE FUCKIN' CLIFF, SO STOP SASSIN' ME." Okay, it's not really so much of a mutter.


"God, I missed him."

"Prime, Eric isn't of the homose—"

"No Homo."

KITT's accusations are cut of by Prime's quick response and once Eric is clear, Prime spins the heel and lurches the car into motion! If, by his count and listening in, things are being taken care of, he should be pulling up the rear.

"KITT. Get a lock on my Angel." At Prime's command, KITT's monitor pops up with a radar and all sorts of other little blips and sweeps and what not. It's crazy technology stuff that looks cool.

Prime wheels the car off in the direction of the the Black Pearl, but hanging back to let Saints pass him by if they need to. "Hey guys? If you're ahead of me? Get there. Now."

"Oh no." William Daniels' only attempt at emotion. Love it.

"Oh yeeeeaaahhhhh…" Prime flips a switch as he tears up the street. Underneath KITT a circular panel slides away and dropping out of the newly created hole are a three… no four, pieced together frisbees. Frisbees… with lights blinking on top? Wait. Those have to be…? Yes. Proximity mines, to be exact.

"You know what I hate about driving this time of night?"

"What's that, Prime?"

"Roadkill." And Prime floors it… since things could get pretty explosive behind him.


Ramon, even in a homicidal fury, is starting to get just a little bit worried about the traffic congestion happening out there. At this point, too many more rockets might become 'friendly fire', and he's not into friendly fire today. So he sets Kitty down, rubbing his shoulder with an odd little smile on his face. "You know, Gene," he says, his voice dripping with accent, odd happiness, and nostalgia that comes when a killer is doing his thing, "when I was a little boy, they came out with remote control toy soldiers. My Papi, he would not let me have one. I was very sad."

He finishes rubbing and popping his shoulder, then stretches his hand out towards the soldiers with all those guns poking out of all those windows, a very strange smile on his face. His single eye goes from it's normal brown to a pitch black that shows no white at all as he gathers up the power within himself. "My therapist, she tells me, that whenever I find my link to my inner child, I should honor and acknowledge him."

He doesn't need the hand of course. It's just an aid to concentration. The other one reaches up to grip his very special Oh SHIT bar back at the back, because there's no time to do this and mess around with seatbelts too.

Maybe he'll only catch one mind. Maybe he'll catch several. But he's going to slam it all out there to the enemy anyway, using his coercion ability. *Kill them. Everyone in the car with you. Shoot them. Murder them. Make them drink the blood they love so well.*


Peter's TK once again proves to be one of his better abilities as he manages to not only bat the offending grenades away….he also manages to yank the grenade launcher before it could do any more damage, the thing flying off as well. This leaves the humvee vulnerable to Jack's gunfire, bullets riddling the side of the car and punching the gas tank, causing it to leak everywhere on the road.

Eric's double-tech with KITT is also something to behold as both vehicles team up to take out the Jeep. The grenades thumping on the top explode, sending bits and pieces of it scattering everywhere. Those who are alive still in the vehicle could be heard cursing and screaming…

…and then silence.

Those paying attention would suddenly realize that the remaining vehicles….are suddenly swerving out of control, light bursts seen from the tainted windows within as the remaining agents turn the gun on themselves and start killing each other. Blood spatter makes the tainted windows darker, dripping down…

The coup de grace comes from KITT, who paves the road as requested. The out of control vehicles trip them, they can't help it, their drivers are dead, and the remaining vehicles explode, erupting into balls of fire lining the dangerous pass as Trina manages to successfully keeps the Pearl on the road, and Gene intact.

"Angel" makes the Kawasaki leap onto the concrete divider, punching the gas and speeding along it to try and catch up to the rig. Closer….closer….. the slender body unfolds from the side, using her heightened agility to stand on the seat and turn towards the side of the big rig. Using her Boosted strength, she leaps from the bike, reaching upwards to grab the top of the rig, and swing herself up on it. She gets on her feet, and turns to look behind her, ripping the helmet off her head and letting her long, dark hair unfurl like a banner, tossing the thing in one of the small piles of fire the big rig passes.

She takes advantage of her current height, overlooking the darkness with her Boosted eyesight. "….we're clear," she transmit. "Let's pack it up, S— "


She manages to catch the oncoming threat. And much like a certain actress from a certain movie that came out last year, she deftly spins around and gets down on her knees, bending backwards as far as she can go with her arms spread on the top of the Pearl, her hair tangling onto the metal surface as the darkness of the tunnel engulfs her along with the rig.

The left-behind Kamikaze also explodes as it falls off the divider, driverless. The vehicle ignites the gas trail left by Jack's gunfire on the road, igniting a swirling line across the highway. She asked for lights. She got them…leading all the way back to home.


Remote control soldier? Why would Ramon bring something like that up… "If this is something you want me to build you, just give me some time and-" Then it hits him what the man is likely going to do. Despite his faults, Gene can be quick on the uptake. At one time, long ago, he wanted to be at ground zero. In the action, in the zone with nifty powers. While he doesn't have the powers, he doesn't like the battlefields he fights on now these days; the fields of anger and asphalt.

Gripping the handle on the door for the evasive maneuvers to come (as he's already buckled in), Gene speaks quietly as if not caring if he's heard or not. "Swear jar." For the record, the Saints are on Swear Jar the X. Apparently, some of the Saints have a problem with the jar. As the last of the cars are taken out, Gene offers softly, "We did it… They're dead. All of them. Let's wrap this up and move out. I'll see if we got any more surprise down the road." Gene didn't kill anyone directly, but he had his hand in this, help make the bloodbath possible. With that charming thought in mind, Gene begins to work to try and see if there's anything on the usual radio channels involving Homeland Security.


See, with his addition to this particular expidition made, Peter turns his attention to the person he came here to help rescue, even if he has to twist around inside Julia to get a better look. He catches her leaping on top of the big rig, and actually sits up a little in his seat when he sees the tunnel… only to settle back down in shock that she's able to do that so quickly, and so well— luckily he's seeing pretty good at the moment— he could see that. Even with all the explosions and bright lights, he could see that enough to know she's okay— and that— he really has no idea who these people are anymore. Closing his eyes, he leans back into the chair, and pretty much puts the rest of this trip into the hands of Jack, Julia, and these people he's not sure he ever knew at all.

Then again, they probably have the same feeling when they look at the man he became here, if what he's heard is any indication.


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