Skies over Great Britain.

OOC: The sky...in some sort of aircraft...of some design...over Great Britain.

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This was Miles' third time on a plane with a recent time span of a few weeks. Two trips, one to France from Rome and back again, and now toward London. Miles was seated in the back row of the plan, as he had been since they left the airport in Rome, running various systems checks and going over recent information he had acquired. Never ending calculations, its technically all he ever did. Having already calculated the Travel time for both now and back, various other details and possible conclusions and time they might have to stay until they captured their target. The small pressure on his shoulder was present and had been for a while, which made the Cyborg give several occasional glances toward the redhead who had been using him for a pillow. Luckily, even with the recent travels he and Sister Meabh had been on, according to the list he'd downloaded this was the last vampire on the list that they had a possibility to capture.

So at the very least after they finished this one she might be able to get some downtime...though he highly doubted it. For a human she was very resilient in her duties. Michel didn't suffer from exhaustion like normal people did, very rarely did that happen, so he rarely ever thought of it. The cyborg just wanted to get the mission over with.

Another plane, another mission, another long flight to somewhere holding danger and death and the usual suspects. She'd dumped her gear in the racks above her, and taken up the standard position of using her partner for a sleep aid. The pillows were always so thin, and though she hated to admit it, there were occasions she craved the feeling of another human being. For so long she'd been in the world of the supernatural, of the black and deadly, that the simple joy of having a living, breathing human near her was a comfort in and of itself.

Not that anyone else would consider Father Miles "human".

But he was. To her, he was still a man, someone who had pulled her from more than one touch-and-go situation, and a person she'd saved just as often. At their first meeting, she was slightly bemused by his language, his bearing, and his mentality; he was sharp and unyielding and a pain in the ass to work with.

But whomever decided to pair them knew more than they let on.

Because now she couldn't think of another operative that she would rather work with. And he was changing, not that others ever seemed to notice. He made terrible jokes and even asked her questions at times, things more personal than mission oriented. She would say he was simply becoming more himself, while everyone else just thought of him as an evolving robot.

Those that even bothered to pay attention, at least.

Now they were on yet another flight together, though this time they had a friend along. She didn't know the Sister as well as she would have liked - Section Matthew fascinated her, though not that she would tell - and she had the sense that the woman would stray from the combat if she keep out of it. There was a bit of steel in her though, and if push came to shove, Meabh was certain she could handle herself well enough.

And even though she was resting, she could feel the looks Father Miles sent her way. Shifting slightly, she props one knee up on the back of her seat. "Michel, I know you well enough to know you are thinking. What is it?" To him, it was obvious what she meant: the computer section of his brain was always thinking, but there were times when his human side wandered to the surface. Those were the thoughts she was most interested in.

Michel shifted his gaze back toward the sniper as she spoke, while his face was still a blank slate - as was a sort of trademark of his - it was somewhat relaxed in its own way, yet still held its dulled attributes. Normally, he'd respond as he always did, but it was obvious that she didn't care what his computer was calculating, and it put him in a rather awkward position. He mostly ran off of his calculations, and he wasn't very social, not in this type of way at least. True, he was somewhat attached to the sniper, but that didn't increase his socializing skills anymore than what they already were. Waiting a few moments as he thought it over, Miles finally responded.

Evaluating mission specs....and personal safety of specified teammates accompanying me. Sister Cecile is not combat equipped to deal with vampires of the Category our target is at, nor does she have the field experience to make up for the lack of equipment. And you, Sister Meabh.. You seem tired from recent trips, I am concerned for your current well-being. Exhaustion is something that takes time to recuperate from, more than a few hours sleep. It is unlikely my shoulder is providing sufficient comfort as well.

She scrubs her face with her hands before tucking one side of her short locks behind her ear. "Cecile will be fine if she holds to whatever plan we agree on. And I think there are a few things we can do to set her up as a...difficult target."

A frown tugs at her lips at his next words, but it then relaxes into a thin smile. "I won't lie and say I'm not reaching the edge of my limits, but I'm fine for now." Meabh was, for all intents and purposes, tired. She'd not been able to truly sleep in what felt like days, and their mission turn around hadn't left much time for anything other than a quick nap on a plane, or stolen shut-eye while face planted on her bed.

"Your shoulder is perfect, Michel. I can sleep and not worry." The last part was entirely true. It was difficult for her to sleep in public places, and not from some sense of paranoia; she was simply conditioned to keep on her toes, and passing out on a plane full of strangers had never been her strong suit. But with the Father here, she was quite capable of reaching deep slumber without a care.

The Cyborg kept his look focused on her as she spoke, only looking away once after she had finished to remove his orange eye-ware from his face and place the glasses in the confines of his cassock. His shoulder was perfect? A part of his mind screamed "Illogical" as she said it. He was made of reinforced steel and heavy, bullet resistant fibers, along with multiple layers of heavy clerical robes and bits of armored plating. Certainly uncomfortable for any who tried to use him as a pillow. Another part of his mind understood what she meant by it and appreciated the gesture, he was actually able to give Meabh, of all people, the comfort required for her to actually get some form of rest, which he had already concluded she needed. Then again...he technically was a "Guard Dog" of some sorts.

I will no longer question my shoulder being substituted for a pillow, 'Meabh'. However, I still am still slightly concerned for your sleep patterns. I recommend forfeiting some of your workload and placing it in my care, and advise using the gained free time for rest. Even he had to admit the change of titles was a bit odd. Very rarely did he refer to another agent by their first name without some form of title in front of it, he was never that friendly with them. Then again, none really earned that right like Sister Meabh had.

The times were few and far between when he used her first name, unadorned by title; his mind must be fighting itself by now. He'd also given in and allowed her to continue to think of his shoulder as "perfect", not questioning the logic behind it anymore. He was being oddly malleable at the moment, so she decided to make the most of it; she could sleep on the way back.

"Thank you for the...concern, but I'm not sure what I could leave to you, Michel. When we get back, there are debriefs and after-action reports and a mess of other things. And I still have a rather curious vampire in a cell I need to work on."

She pats his arm twice, and shifts in her seat again. "You're right about my lack of sleep, as you keep pointing out." Meabh sighs and finally confesses. "I'm tired, Michel. I am very tired."

The sniper wasn't talking about her missed down time, but her entire being; she was busy, so busy these days, and though not old by normal, everyday standards, she was feeling the ache of a lifetime spent on the move and in the fray, and it terrified her that one day she would be just a little too slow to do her job.

One day, she would drop the ball, and someone would get killed.

Shoving those thoughts away, the redhead closes her eyes again. "Do you ever wish you could sleep again?"

Debriefs and after-action reports are easily sorted out, recording a small summary while resting is also an option. I will do the debriefs and after-action reports of our previous missions that were not already handed in, both agent's side of the story is not necessary, and can be transferred via wireless link. It will not be a problem. Miles eyes flashed emerald before returning to their deep brown color, tiny sentences in dark green lettering suddenly began to form over his pupils at a rapid rate, a detailed report of their previous mission in France and on both of the vampires they had captures before it suddenly vanished. The wonders of cybernetics had more than a few useful perks, wireless communication on an encrypted channel was one of them.

Reports sending....transfer complete. The cyborg glanced toward his partner after patted his arm and she shifted in her seat once more. The question that followed was...well, hard for him to answer. Did he wish he could sleep again? When was the last time he slept? After the operation when he was 'upgraded'? Ten years ago.. 87,658.2 hours.. 315,569,520 seconds ago.. He calculated the math almost instantly.. it wasn't hard. Then again, he didn't remember what sleep felt like. He tried to calculate or break down what sleep was in his mind. Oh, he could give you every detail about what sleep was. A text book definition, and even why sleep was important for the human body, but that really didn't help him remember what it felt like.

The cyborg lifted his right hand from his arm rest and looked at it, flexing his gloved fingers a few times.

Technicalities. I am already 'sleeping'. I am a machine, not a Man. Therefor I am not awake, I am simply "aware". I simply "am".

"Well aren't you handy." She couldn't help the smile and light, gentle laugh that followed. Occasionally it slipped her mind that he was so much machine, that he could do things in the blink of an eye that would take most people hours. And the fact he was always linked to Section XIII.

His posting of his - well, their - report took quite a bit off her shoulders, as he said he wanted to do. Sometimes she couldn't tell if what he was doing stemmed from a genuine desire to do it, or if his computer brain told him it was the logical thing to do. She swipes her hair back out of her face once again, sighing slightly.

She couldn't imagine being without the basic human needs, hell, she was already wondering if she herself was a machine with what little she'd been eating and sleeping. But not eating for a few days and not sleeping for even longer doesn't make one a machine, it makes one less capable, less fit. Here was a cyborg, though, that didn't need either, and yet she couldn't help feeling he still had at his core the soul of a human, that he was still a man.

"Your programming is responding, not you." She prods him lightly. "I know you think, Michel, I know you wonder sometimes." If he had an ounce of human in him, that caught him off guard. "I've seen it, when you are of the mind no one is watching you. Thought like that doesn't belong to a machine."

Miles nodded slightly at the compliment. It was his purpose after all, to be 'handy'. Either for killing supernatural beings or transferring information relating to them, he was built to do it. It was something new for Meabh to laugh as well. Common causes for laughter are sensations of joy and humor; however, other situations may cause laughter as well. So atleast he was helping her in one way or another. He seemed a bit confused by her next words, though his face didn't possess the muscles to show such an expression. It was obvious his programming was responding. "Logically speaking, if my programming is me, and it is responding, then I am responding as well..

The cybernetic priest lowered his hand back to his arm rest, leaning back against his seat. It was true, though. There were certain times where he let his mind wander about things his programming rejected or things he couldn't "calculate" correctly. There were a great variety of things that fit those categories, surprisingly enough. One such thing was Meabhs insistence that he was a man, not that he didn't appreciate it, but all logical outcomes pointed to him being a Machine. 96% of his body was artificial after all. I just 'calculate' outcomes and situational variances, that is all...

Logically, he was right. But that didn't mean he wasn't also wrong. She didn't know why she refused to accept her partner as simply a machine, a thing made up of metal parts and bits of computers; maybe it was her firm belief in the last few inches of humanity still residing in him. The woman only nods to his first comment, choosing not to go down that road for the moment; she often wondered if he was this stubborn before his operation.

While flexing her fingers - the knuckles were starting to stiffen - Meabh studies the worn digits before responding. "Liar." She glances up at him, then returns her gaze to her hands. "I don't know much about computers, but one doesn't ask how to tell a joke because one's programming wanted to know."

If here was one time Michel's entire life where he was truly confused, it would be now. No one else even bothered to view Miles as anything more than a tool used to carry out certain task's. Even Father Anderson seemed to frown upon the use of technology being used to allow an injured 'soul' like him to cling onto life, it was comparable to a person on life support with the want to pull the plug, it just wasn't the right time to pull it, after all Miles didn't willingly undergo the surgery. Yet Meabh still persisted. It was certainly a nice change of pace from talking about mission specs.

Negative... My programming has no business learning of jokes, I have no need for them. The people around me are the ones who benefit from it. Laughter is a form of stress relief. I've made it a priority to learn. Stress effects combat ability, it is only logical for me to try and reduce stress levels by normal means.

She couldn't help but to laugh. He was made up of machine parts and computers, so it was only natural that he would respond that way. However, there was still a nagging suspicion in her mind that simple programming wasn't the entire answer.

"There is just no arguing with you, is there? Reminds me of an old instructor from Belarus."

Meabh flops back onto his shoulder, smiling slightly. "He had all the answers. Every single one. I couldn't get an opinion in even if it was to save my life. Then again, his logical brain saved my ass more than once."

She had never told anyone about her instructors, her teachers; most of them were wanted for some shadowy reason, or feared for their cut-throat natures. They weren't people one talks about in polite company.

Or any company at all.

"Yeah, he had the answers, he had logic on his side. And so do you." She nudges him. "But he left me with a chunk of shrapnel making nice with my chest and no escape plan. He left me."

She wasn't sad, or teary at the fact; she'd gotten past that point long ago. The man was doing his job the way he saw it, and if that meant leaving her, it meant leaving her. Even if the act stung her badly in the beginning.

"You've taken no less than thirty 7.62mm rounds for me in one go, and you've stepped between me and what I must say was a rather spectacular explosion, which should have reduced me to a smudge. You did these things - you say - because your programming dictates it."

Her eyes close.

"You have never left me, Michel. And even though that fellow from Belarus was human, he was far more a machine than you will ever be."

In a way her logic was childish, the need for protection overwhelming the practical nature of their work. But it was also fundamentally human, and she had never regretted feeling that way.

The sniper allows her lips to quirk into another smile.

"And you are more a man than he ever was."

Maybe one day she would tell him it was her that popped open the man's chest from 2,000 metres away, after stumbling across him in Egypt. Or then again, maybe not.

After they got onto the plane Cecile got busy working on her PDA. While the little thing was handy it sure did not match up to her standards as far as what she wanted to do with it. It would do for now though. She was trying her best to look at the emails she received about their subject Leto to make sure he had not moved again. He was really a crafty one. It seemed as if he knew they were coming last time. Either way at least Sister Meabh, and Father Miles were able to capture the other subject Para. Lloyd she was sure would like a female subject to test on. Feeling like she should take a break for a short bit she looked out over the plane window at the clouds, and then she looked at Sister Meabh and Father Miles to see how they were doing. From what she saw they were perfectly fine. It seemed they made good partners in their job like her and Lloyd. With that thought she decided to resume her work.

The cyborg sat quietly as the sniper spoke, keeping a glance on her as she flopped back onto his shoulder. He had to admit it was strange seeing Meabh this..well, open and carefree. Not only being open about her life and revealing a bit of her past, but also seeing her this relaxed was odd, though he enjoyed the fact she felt secure enough to be like this. Michel thought it over. He couldn't figure it out. On rare occasion he did do things that could be considered "Illogical" by most peoples stand point, but it was more recent when Meabh was around. He wasn't a stranger to using himself as a shield, but the sniper was really the only one he actually tried to protect when he was needed. Was being a human more about what a person thought than what their body was made of? Illogical. A human is made up of organic material, thought process should not have anything to do with it.

Straight faced and monotone, Miles responded after a few more moments of thought. Negative, correction is needed. My programming did not dictate me intercepting lethal aspects from harming you, He paused a moment before lifting his hand back up, rotating his wrist back and forth to let the faint sound of artificial muscle tissue and metal bone rub together. It was better for a "dead man walking" to take damage instead. As a Machine, I am replaceable, I can be rebuilt. You cannot be replaced as I can.

This entire conversation had reached a rather interesting turn, and it brought both enjoyment and wariness with it; what if she said something wrong? Could she say something wrong? Was it even possible for him to be offended? She didn't think so, but a small part of her wondered if somewhere down deep he wouldn't take affront to her prying.

"Wrong."

She wasn't going to elaborate just yet. Instead, she takes a moment to adjust in her seat, then crosses her arms over her chest as her head still rested on his shoulder.

"Why do you see yourself as a machine, Michel?"

It was a question that, until today, she didn't think she'd ever asked. Oh, they had danced around it many times before, but this was the first time she could remember asking him directly.

Still giving her his trademark blank stare, Michel could help but think about how simple - yet at the same time, confusing - that question really was. Obviously, he was made of metal and bullet resistant fiber, no human was made of that. He could walk through most gunfire unaffected and survive things most things classified as "human" couldn't. His physical ability also surpassed human limits by far unless the human in question had some sort of modification. He was not a Human, and by all logical example, he couldn't be Human.

I do not feel, I do not bleed, I cannot outwardly show emotion. 98% of my body is made up of non-organic material. I cannot be classified as anything other than "Machine". My actions do not change the fact that I am a "Killing Doll". Meabh, why do you persist in considering me as "Human"?

He made a good point, but it was still so logical.

"I know all that. Everyone knows that. They tell you you are machine, they program you to be one. But, I want to know why you think you are machine."

She reaches up and taps his temple, once, twice.

"Two percent of you is human. Two percent of you thinks like a human. I know it. Just because the rest of you is metal and wires doesn't take away what that two percent gives you."

Meabh drops her hand and crosses her arms again.

"The flesh does not make a man."

Moving his head back slightly as she tapped against his temple, the cyborg couldn't help but wonder why she was being so stubborn about it. Logic dictated he was a machine, regardless of what little bit of his body that was left being organic...and she was ignoring that fact for some reason. Positive, however the metal and wires make me who I currently am, not the two percent. I am a Machine. Miles eyes flashed green for a moment before returning to normal. Requesting answer to previous question: Why do you persist, Meabh?

This was going to take time. A lot of it. And really, she was fine with that. They were partners, after all, and they would (hopefully) be on many more missions together. At the moment, however, she had him engaged, and she didn't know when another opportunity like this would present itself.

Knowing him, perhaps never.

Still resting against him, Meabh sighs a bit at his refusal to believe he was anything other than machine. Something to work on.. His repeated question, however, gave her slight pause; why was she so persistent? To be fair, he'd given more than enough proof against his existence as a man, yet nothing could dissuade her from believing there was more to him than mechanical parts.

"Because...I have a belief. You can consider it as illogical as you want, but for me it is the truth. I know you to be human, Michel. I know it. I don't think that they rebuilt you from nothing; there would be nothing sitting here now if that were the case. They needed something of you to work with, and that...that I think is what I see."

It was incredibly strange that this normally very level-headed and logical woman was imparting belief as her main reason behind an argument. The only thing she'd ever proclaimed with that much faith was her knowledge and devotion to the Lord, and her belief in Father Anderson's work.

A belief? Why? For what purpose? Having a belief requires some form of proof or evidence, it requires a reason. What reason did he give that made her have such a belief? Protecting her from a hail of gun fire? Taking an explosion for her? The real question to ask would be...would he of done it if he wasn't made of metal and wires. Illogical He thought, he already explained the reasoning behind his actions. That couldn't be reason enough to spawn a belief as stubborn as this.

Odd as it may seem, the emotionless stare that Miles always wore seemed to loosen into a somewhat sympathetic look, though it was more so a look in his eyes than anything. Affirmative. I was made using the remains of who I was. I was Human. The cyborg lifted his hands for a moment then pulled off one of his gloves, revealing his artificial cream colored skin underneath. Artificial, yes. But it still retained bits of organic properties from his previous 'self'. Was is not the same as being however. I do not understand you're 'belief', Meabh. All of my actions have been logical to this point, and nothing contradicts my understanding that I am a Machine. How can you believe something that you cannot see, something you cannot prove?

He had a point. All evidence screamed “machine”, yet she refused to accept the fact as true. His question made her smile again, and she sighed softly from her rather comfortable seating arrangement.

”Are you truly asking such a question? Everyone you work with, work for, has an outstanding belief in something they cannot prove exists, yet they are willing to risk Purgatory for that very thing.” She wasn’t going to mention her own thoughts on the matter of God.

”Belief is…hard. Difficult to define. But everyone, no matter what the individual’s life has made them, has faith in something. For some it is a God, for others it is a belief in the goodness of humanity,” she wasn’t going to touch that one, ”and there are even those who find comfort in simply believing their lives will get better one day to the next. None of these things can be proven, of course.”

She mulls over her next words for a moment. ”Faith can be a shield from the world, or it can be a sword against it. People wrap themselves in beliefs in the hopes it will bring protection, while others wield it to cut other faiths down.” Meabh halts in contemplation, just long enough for her to shift in her seat again. ”My belief in your humanity is neither a shield nor a sword; it is passive, a thing I know to be true, but have no way of proving, as you have said. I cannot hold it close and hope you will one day notice it, and I cannot thrust is upon you, willing you to secede the point. I am…giving it to you, presenting it in a way that I pray you will someday understand.”

The sniper opens one eye, glancing at the cyborg’s hand and then closes it once more.

”I believe you are human because I choose to believe it. I have faith that one day you will see your humanity as well.”

That was more than she had ever spoken to anyone about how she saw the world. It caught even her off guard, which shut down a bit of her forthcoming nature for the moment. There was a tinge of...fear in her, worry that she might be giving out a little too much of herself.

She had a point. Everyone he worked for and with believed in something that was, from his standpoint, illogical. He was a very devout believer before he underwent the change to become what he was now, but after the operation he wasn't so sure anymore. Rest assured, he was still very devoted in his own way to the goals of Iscariot, wiping out vampire and other supernatural threats was something he, even as a machine, felt was right. If one asked why, he could give them a logical reason for it. All supernatural creatures posed a threat to those around him, and if such a threat arose then logically speaking such a threat would need to be neutralized. But the calculations and probability of an actual God or God-like figure existing was unlikely, but if her belief in him being "human" was the same as 'believing' in that sort of way, then he could somewhat understand it....somewhat.

She was giving the belief to him..? Odd, was it possible to accept something such as a belief from another person? The cyborg sat silent for several minutes as he thought it all over. It was...different. However, if what his partner said was true about everyone having a belief in something, then he truly was a machine. He didn't believe in anything really.... Well, that sprung up several new issues. What did he believe in? He believed he was a machine because he had facts and proof to back it up, logically sound. But the type of belief Meabh spoke about wasn't really there. This conversation was giving birth to a whole new train of thought Miles never even really considered. Did he even really have "faith"? Well, he obviously had faith, faith in his own abilities...or was that his programming telling him he could do it without having to worry?

The cyborg put his glove back on, pulling it firmly in place before lowering her hand back on the arm rest for the final time. There were different meanings to the word belief, believing something that you could not see was there, and believing something you could see was there were two different things in his opinion. Belief is something I am familiar with, yet it is not something I currently have....not in the same way you posses, but I will say this: "People wrap themselves up in beliefs in hopes of protection." This is a pointless action, as you do not need belief for protection. While I still do not fully understand your reasoning's in believing I am Human, Meabh, if there is one thing that can be classified as belief that I have, it is a belief in my abilities. I will continued acting as a 'physical shield' for your protection if it is required, human or not.

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OOC: Well...this escalated quickly.

Finally after an exhausting amount of minutes going through leads, and false information Cecile finally found enough concrete evidence that Leto was where it all started. In London. Cecile sighed a bit, but was relieved to know that at the very least he was not somewhere like Cambodia. It would be too much of a hassle to deal with the local officials, and natives. Now that she was in a good mood again she got up, and walked over to Sister Meabh and Father Miles. Excuse me I hope I am not interrupting anything here, but I have received some great news. I have fixed the location of our target Leto. Unfortunately he may not be alone. However, he is a category D so he should not give you that much trouble. Even though he gave me the run around the last time I tried to go after him. I have confidence in both of your abilities to capture him still kicking, and put him in a twice blessed silver cage. He will be useless to Lloyd's research if he is dead. This latest project is very important.

Before she could think of a response to what was a rather insightful answer, Sister Cecile broke into the conversation. To be honest, she was thankful for the interruption. Shifting away from Father Miles as the younger Sister spoke, Meabh began formulating ideas and thoughts on the possible tactics to use; undoubtedly Miles had already processed a few of his own, but in her experience, when they compared thoughts on a mission, the mission usually went much smoother.

"Do we know if he has support?"

She absolutely did not want another incident like the one in France; pouring through ammunition like water was never an indication of a good mission. If they were to be expecting company, she wanted to know now, before they arrived and had to make a scene. Why is it always London?

Well, the somewhat awkward conversation was put to an end for the moment. The question of if the target had help was still unknown to both Sister Cecile and Sister Meabh, but at least they knew his location. Somewhere in London was still a large area to search, but luckily this was modern times and most stores on the corner had security cameras and police had scanners. All of which could be hacked wirelessly. Why search with six pairs of eyes when you could search with several hundred? Or better yet..satellite view.

I will try and check the situation for any developments. Begin access.

:Accessing data sector within the longitude and latitude of 51.5171° N, 0.1062° W » priority Omega
:Access into any satellites over London requested.
:Connecting...
:Iscariot access approved, infiltration complete.
:Data Sector Accessed, 743.854.587. Initiating Global Mapping system, live feed from satellite imagining acquired. Searching for anyone on the streets that match facial recognition of target, Leto.


The cyborgs eyes flashed a dark green color as an extremely small video seemed to appear over his right pupil, almost impossible to make out to anyone around him. Searching initiated. Also requesting a Helicopter to be ready for when we land as transport to target location.

To be honest, Miles didn't care if the target had help or not. The situation in France was easily handled, even though he had Sister Meabh and Father Cassel there to provide assistants, most of the "help" the vampire had weren't even worth the bullets he spent on them, had he been arrogant he would of even gone as far as to say he could of done it on his own. The reason he was sending a request for a helicopter to be ready was simply because Meabh and Cecile were with him. Especially with Cecile having so little combat experience.

Facial recognition scan failed, face covering is interfering, but a suspicious scene has been found near "Big Ben". News Helicopters are also in the area. Accessing hacking systems, wireless transfer initiated. Hacking nearest encrypted police frequencies for further details.. Time until encryption is broken: 1 minutes, 15.2 seconds.

Cecile listened carefully to Father Miles as he revealed things that were not a factor before, but were now due to the latest developments. I am assuming from Father Miles report here that he is not alone after all. Although I am beginning to wonder what he is doing if he is gathering attention from the local police. If this is the case it might be best Sister Meabh that you perhaps stay in the shadows, and we can have Father Miles approach the target in the open. There might be some damage afterwards but it is nothing Lloyd will not be able to fix. She turned back to Father Miles, and asked him one last thing before they landed. Where will the helicopter pick us up Father?

Something was already causing a commotion, and news crews were already on the move. Never good news. News coverage meant publicity on all fronts, and though Section XIII was glorious in its ability to cover up the truth of a matter, that ability was being strained in this day and age, where television, computers, and even cell phones tracked the movements of the world second by second.

Then again, it also meant Father Miles had eyes on the situation already.

Standing, unfolding in the business-like manner of a cat with places to go, the sniper works her way around the cyborg and moves to the seat in front of them. Her gear - such as it was - had been stowed neatly into two black cases, one for her rifle, the other for ammunition and a clean shirt; one never knew when something like that could come in handy.

All in all she'd brought six magazines of standard silver rounds, not including the one already in her rifle case. There was one slightly apart from the rest as it contained the HEIAP rounds used to subdue the hard-hitter they were after; one should never underestimate the talents of one's opponent. Then again, one should be careful not to overestimate as well.

Unzipping her rifle case, the redhead makes a mental checklist of the weapon inside, working the action and listening for any sounds out of place. She didn't think a scope would be needed for this particular set up, so she chooses to leave it strapped in place. Satisfied with the arrangement, Meabh retrieves two magazines of .357 silver rounds from the bag, sliding them into their well-worn place in her shoulder holster.

All in all, 35 rounds of standard silver alloy, in .338 Lapua, and 5 rounds of .338 Lapua HEIAP. Fully loaded, her SIG sidearm count was 36 standard silver .357.

She catches the tail end of Sister Croomy's comment, and decides to wait a moment before interjecting.

"Stealth would normally be a good course of action, but here...things might get a little tricky. It would be better if we hold deciding our plan of action until we get a feel for the terrain."

The older sniper wasn't attempting to step n any toes, she was simply stating a fact; any set plans right now would be dangerous, as they knew little about the combat they were about the dash into.

The cyborg sat idle for several moments as Cecile and Meabh spoke their parts. He wasn't ignoring them, he was just...busy at the moment. About after a minute or so, the time he stated moments ago, the cyborgs eyes flashed once again.

Encryption broken. 911 calls seeding. No mentions of a fire. Assumption: Smoke grenades are being used. Gunshots in the distance seem low caliber. Unable to calculate number of assailants from general information, returning to birds eye view with Satellite. Miles eyes flashed once again, signalling he pulled himself out of the system relating to the encryptions and moved on to a different area of data and equipment. Commencing zoom.... Ghoul spotted through the smoke. Safe to assume mass numbers.

The cyborg then stood from his seat as well and turned his Gaze toward Cecile to finally answer her question. Negative on the damage. Low caliber rounds pose little to no threat. Lloyd will not have to be involved with repairs. Flight plans just received, the helicopter will be waiting for us once we land. We can depart immediately once the plane touches down.

Cecile heard the ding of the seat belt like come on, and looked at both of them. That is true Sister Meabh we need to see where the local forces are positioned as well as anything that might be in the way. Now since we'll be landing soon enough let's go ahead and take our seats. She went back to her seat on the plane, and buckled herself in. A few minutes after they settled down she saw London come into view as well as the airport. Not to long after that the plane landed. Cecile hoped they wouldn't have to deal too much with the local police, but if they really had to she would send a notice to Iscariot to start any media blackout when necessary. As soon as the captain bid them a thank you, and farewell Cecile started grabbing her things.

So, maybe the target had a lot of help. Maybe the target had only a handful of help. Maybe the target was simply using chaos as a diversion. Whatever the case - be it a several dozen or two - she was certain they would find way to complete the mission.

And with any luck, no one would get hurt.

Though she had faith that the Sister would be safe from most combat, there was a bit of a nagging thought that the girl might find herself in a situation she wasn't prepared for. Which meant the sniper wanted to keep her either very far away from the fighting, or right next to her side.

Strapping in for the landing, and unbuckling just as quickly once the plane hit tarmac, the redhead gathers her gear and swings out the door before the stairs have a chance to finish their descent.

Their new transportation, a British made chopper not designed in this case for combat, was already spinning up and awaiting their arrival. The crew - pilot, co-pilot, crew chief and crewman - were ready as well, with the crewman holding open the large door and waving them on.

With her black coat swirling around her body, and a firm set to her jaw, it was obvious this was not the same woman who had only moments ago been discussing the philosophy of the soul with her partner. Ducking and hopping into the helo, she settles into one of the bench seats and grabs a headset from above her.

"We'll be needing a low hover once we reach our AO. Myself and a secondary will remain inside, a third will be...fast roping down."

She couldn't very well tell the men Father Miles was going to be hopping out of the helicopter, no rope attached.

"Your crewman will be assisting me, crew chief will have eyes on the AO. At no time will you question an order. This is imperative, no matter what you see. Understood?"

A thumbs up and a round of "Roger" or "Copy that" was their collective response; she liked a team that knew what they were doing. It only took a moment or two before the rest of group clambered on board, and when they were both seated, the heavy bay door was rolled closed, and they were off to their mission.


-----------> All three of us to London