A disembodied voice whispers something archaically complex, sounding something like a spell formula or something, and Leeson says, "Welcome, our Mr. X." He doesn't stir, but keeps looking over the edge of the roof at W 76th street. "I'm ever so glad you could get here in time - we're going to need all the help we can get, as we go harass the cat." He turns, apparently speaking to the empty air. There is nothing there at all. Not on the roof, at any rate. "We're happy you could make it."
Mr. X seemingly "melts" into view seemingly from thin air. "Nice view," comments Mr. X rather amicably.
Ace blinks furiously a few times, pinches his nose between thumb and forefinger as if warding off a potential headache, and squeazes his eyes shut as he exhales a heavy sigh. Looking up at Mister X and rolling his eyes in comedic exaspiration he asks: "Good thing none of us are trigger happy, eh?" He blows a feisty raspberry to take the sting out of the question & starts to go back to keeping watch. Methodically scanning the sky, rooftops, the windows below, then finally the street level he looks intently for signs of drones, snipers, other watchers, Reggie, limos, Miss Garcia, ghouls or gangers, idly wondering if perhaps Leeson might be right in his quip about mouths writing cheques butts can't cash.
Block says to Leeson, "Leeson, this is our employer," Block waggles his finger between himself and Ace.
Silently Ace sends via his internal ComLink via the encrypted direct to Tiny on their shared channel: "Primary. Three. One is with us. Unit reformed. Out."
Block continues his thought aloud, "I would really like to get off of your rooftop in case things go pear shaped around us. Is there a good vantage point or two where we can watch for that guy coming in, if he comes in from the traffic accident to the East? From the ground, I liked the looks of the tower over on that church at 76th and Park West, but I don't want to screw up, again."
Block pauses, then shifts his eyes to Mr. X, "er, unless you wants us to go somewhere else, of course."
"I'm pretty sure that I cannot airlift everyone at once - but I can drag Ace along and let him play lookout while I watch out for antennas and water tanks."
Meanwhile, Leeson leans back, seems to rock back and forth a few times, instantly deep in thought. "I don't spend a lot of time down near the park; I rarely have a need to." he starts, "But there are opportunites to get a good view almost everywhere along the rooftops. Far as I know," he winds up, standing up, "I'm one of the very few who has decided to squat up here - most folk don't think it's defensible enough." He snorts. "Shows what they know, now don't it?" He rises to his feet, scratches his chin, and reaches out with his right hand. Alarmingly quick a gunbelt rises from some of the detritus (it didn't LOOK useful!) and attaches itself to his outstretch palm, his fingers closing deftly over it as he whips it around his sizeable midsection, buckling it on with amazing ease. "Well," he grumbles, "In for a penny, in for a pound! Gotta' do this right, and it wouldn't work for any of us to go out there unprepared..." he drops off into what sounds like a muttered checklist of sorts, but in a language indistinguishable from gibberish.
"Check one" you Leeson's voice unexpectedly chorus as he performs his comms check. It's perfectly clear, and you can't help noticing that he now wears a ceremonial-looking collar, festooned with various fetish-looking items, among them a small boom mike and what looks like three different spotcams, maybe. And other stuff, mostly magical-looking in nature.
In the background, hardly noticable under the local system test, Tiny's voice just breaks silence. "Target is in the zone. Repeat: Target is in the zone. Look sharp!" and the signal drops off. "Seems your quarry finally made it. Glad he could come, what with his overly-busy schedule." The static somehow seems to create the sound, as though Tiny were somehow using a spark-gap transmitter. (*Impossible, you figure, seeing as these are encrypted digital channels, not those lousy AM signals that people used back in the stone age - er, GOLDEN age - of radio...)
Ace half turns to ask the others over a shoulder. "What would happen if we started making as much noise as possible? I'm talking powered bull horns at max volume sort of **projecting**... Booming voices echoing off buildings for blocks in every direction, loud enough to set off car alarms, let every ear in half a click hear us clearly, and make everyone & everyTHING sit up to take notice. What if we started making a *lot* of noise?"
Leeson grins. "Well, every Warrior and Warlord within the next six blocks would arrive in seconds to quiet things down." His smile widens. "This is their turf, and each thinks they own it. Warriors from the north, Warlords from the South, and us smack dab in the middle, trying to pretend - what?" He grimaces, "that we weren't doing anything? Oh, they'd know in seconds. And then we'd have our hands full. To say nothing of the NYPD, who would surely be called in such a case of disturbing what's left of the peace." Lesson chuckles, "The Wild Hunt isn't chasing deer, they're chasing ghouls, which used to be people. Some of them are still people, deep down in there, and those are the dangerous ones. Sure you want to scare all of them up?" He laughs a little. "Sometimes the simplest plans seem best, but that one will only get us shot, encarcerated, and worse. Let's go back to sneaking around and getting things done the hard way, huh?"
With that, Leeson makes his way to the southern corner of the roof, and casually makes his way down via the use of a ladder painted so well that it blends into the wall perfectly. In no time he disappears from view, apparently heading down to the street. |
