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Mid-January, 2008
RCMP/Ministry of Extraordinary Threats Emergency Hangar
Alert, Nunavut, CA

Even in times of the highest tension and most danger, people find ways to keep themselves busy, and neither the Ghostbusters nor the men and women of the world's northern watch bureaus were any great exception. "Ray? Ray! Ray, check it out." Venkman shook his friend's shoulder. "Egon's in a fight with one of the Inquanok guys."

Ray opened an eye and glanced sideways. Several of the Danish contingent and a couple of the Pohjola Project's Sami members were gathered in a semicircle centered on Egon and a broad-faced, dark-eyed man in Danish uniform. "Wow. Spengs is looking kinda..."

"Green," Winston finished for both of them. "That's freaky. What are they fighting about?"

"The worst thing they've ever eaten," said Venkman. "Eske's winning."

Ray and Winston exchanged glances. They both knew Egon's eating habits. "How?" Ray finally asked.

"That's not food," Egon suddenly said, loud enough to be heard over the snickering Greenlanders. "That's biological waste. You can't consider anything with that level of ammonia in it to qualify as edible."

"This from the man who admits to eating casu marzu," said his opponent with the serene smile of a man who knows he's won. "Hákarl is nothing-"

Winston shook his head. Ray gave up on the possibility of a nap and stood up. "Has anyone seen where Captain Korpan went?" he asked, and one of the Finns pointed. "Thank you."

He found the Canadian in the tiny office attached to the hangar, one hand pressing his headset against his ear and the other taking frantic notes. As Ray walked in Korpan lifted his eyes, winced, and held up a piece of paper that read:

Magnetic fields flaring
Deep ones report Russian helicopter near 82.7° N 114.4° W
Radio comms dorppinng like brick

A moment later Korpan scribbled one last line:

Dammit, I can spell. Marines on the way. Tell the others. We're going in.

Ray shuddered, nodded, and went in search of a better door.

[OOC: Assume everyone will be arriving from Milliways within five minutes of each other. Also, don't click on the food links above if you have a weak stomach.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Melville once spoke of a certain whale as having a hump like a snow-hill. The rises in the local ice aren't quite as big as a sperm whale's hump, but they're certainly large enough to afford a little concealment. It'll take some creeping up and peering around, but when that's been accomplished, whoever peers out first is going to notice:

- the form of an extremely large and extremely advanced-looking helicopter at rest on the ice;
- a widely spaced ring of torches, their flames high and bright;
- a not-so-widely-spaced ring of men in dark winter gear, carrying guns of varying sizes and capacities, and
- a brazier mounted on a tripod, burning with clear green flames that do indeed smell like the gym socks of something supernatural.

Close by the brazier are two other men, one in a military greatcoat embellished with metallic embroidery along the edges (mostly occult symbols which the Squirrel might have seen before), and one looking very much as if he's become far too familiar with the many uses of duct tape recently for his liking.

For a moment, Moon Shadow is ...simply not where Kit saw him last.

"We might have to re-think that 'jump in and fight them all' plan a bit." Moon Shadow murmurs, peering over the top of the snowhill and pointing out the man wrapped up in duct tape and looking very much the not-happy camper about it. Then he's...gone again?

Kit blinks and looks around. "T--Moon Shadow? Whered'ja go?"

How lousy a scout do you have to be to lose track of your own teammates?

"I'm right here!" The moment the kid speaks up he's visible again.

Depends on what kind of gear your teammates are using unknowingly.

"....what?"

Kit doesn't have a 'WTF' icon, but we assure you she's using that expression right now.

"You just kinda... appeared outta nowhere just now."

Moon Shadow appears again...as he's focused more on Kit's words than being not seen. "...I was invisible?"

"Apparently. When'dja learn to do that??"

"I don't know, maybe it's something from part of the gear I'm wearing!" With all of the stuff he's packing, it's a strong possibility.

She glances back over at the men surrounding the brazier, then back at Tyler.

"D'you think you can do it again?"

Moon Shadow looks at the brazier, nervously and ducks down against the drift...disappearing for a moment before he speaks, arming the tazer setting on the grappling gauntlet.

"...one way to find out..."

Edited 2008-01-27 03:41 (UTC)

The Flying Squirrel nods. "Just try to get close enough to hear them."

She readies a flash grenade, just in case.

With that Moon Shadow disappears again after nodding, focusing entirely on trying not to be seen, as he pads out over the ice towards the men and the duct-taped man.

Pleasedon'tseemepleasedon'tseeme

The men with guns are lean-faced, narrow-eyed and alert. They are not, however, capable of noticing Moon Shadow just at the moment- for whatever reason. He passes right on by, the auroras flickering and shifting overhead.

As he draws nearer to the brazier the sock-smell grows bizarrely sweet, being still fresh from the fire; it smells of tangerines, and cedarwood, and other things the gadget hero probably can't identify (unless he really does have a metapower and it's the recognition of scent notes). The flame crackles and sizzles, but the sound isn't yet loud enough to block the sound of the great-coated man's voice.

.... speaking in Russian.

If a mini gadget-hero facepalms while invisible, does anyone notice him?

Apparently not as Moon Shadow turns on his radio comm to get The Flying Squirrel in on the talks. Or at least get some guideance to the situation, even if he can't talk without losing his invisibility.

Back in the snowbank, the Flying Squirrel's radio ring crackles to life. She puts it close to her ear, frowning as she listens.

Katya Baxter's mother is from Russia. Kit's not exactly fluent, but she can understand enough...

"Almost time, Mr. President," the speaker is saying. "Even now the Sukhoy Nos is circling its target. When the time is right, the both of us will know. The sky will show it, and the sea beneath the ice beneath our feet. And who knows? I might not have to make you an offering to the Power after all. You might very well live to see both he and I coming into our own."

"I did tell you that if you did not waver, we would have what we deserve."

...oh, shit.

"They're offering the President as a sacrifice," she whispers into the ring. "They're waitin' for a sign that things are about to rip open, an' then they're gonna kill 'im to push it the rest of the way."

...Crud.

He can't reply or he'll become visible again, so for a few seconds he tries thinking of something -to- do.

Very, very careful not to make any noises he removes two of the Daffy Putty eggs from his belt along with their controller. The first one, is getting set to airbag. After a few seconds the first egg bursts in runlets of pinkish goo the seemingly 'devour' the president.

The next burst of Russian that Kit hears isn't the kind of thing ANYONE hears from their mother. It's followed immediately by barked orders to everyone in hearing range to find the infiltrator and incapacitate them NOW. This is being spoken as the man in the ornamented greatcoat backs away and reaches for a concealed weapon.

There is no one in SIGHT.

Except when an egg pops into existance at the Ornamented's feet, beeping rather omniously.

You see..the second putty egg? The person who programmed the Containment setting... reads far too many webcomics.

Nothing good has ever come of anything beeping like that, ever, in the man's experience. He draws an extremely large pistol, and-

Oh. Oh, man.

English doesn't even have words for the things he's shouting now.

Suddenly there's a familiar voice shouting in English: "Moon Shadow, cover your eyes!"

Then there's a muffled boom accompanied by a blinding light from the flash grenade that the Flying Squirrel just tossed into the group of thugs. Anyone who can still see will now observe a small woman in a gray suit and cowl charging forward, a feral snarl on her face.

Visual functions offline, Captain. The only thugs left who can actually see were on the far side of the helicopter, and they're too transfixed by the sight of that one egg in action to be accomplishing much of anything.

The nearer ones are snarling themselves when they're not pawing at their eyes or trying to find the source of the English shouting by ear alone.

The thugs that weren't blinded by the light won't notice an invisible boy sneaking up around behind them.

At least, not until he punches one of them between the legs with the taser gauntlet.

Yeah, no. That one's gonna be jerking around like a Ferrari in fifth that got dropped down to first without warning. The other one, however, still has hold of his gun- and he's going to start shooting in the vicinity of his compatriot, and apologize for any wounds incurred later.

Call it pre-emptive self defense if you like.

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