@Fidelity yeah that'd be fun! Friends sounds great, maybe we could ship them later?

Ash~

The others take off, splitting into two groups. I'm left behind. Again. The man in a hooded cloak notices me, but starts running surprisingly quickly after one of the groups. Then, realizing he won't be able to catch up with them, he turns back to me. I don't know much karate, but I do know how to climd a tree. Just as he lunges for me, I jump around to the other side of the easiest tree to climb, catching a low branch. If I can just get up into the tree, I g=can keep him from getting up after me, and the others will have time enough to get help...

~~ 

Birk~ Part One (1)

The clink of coins between his fingers, rhythmically mingled with the whirring of gears and hum of engines, soothed Birk better than any salve or drought could do. In the life of an independent mercenary, it was common knowledge that few Mortal Pleasures provided lasting comfort. For Birk, this precise scenario-- the sound of illegal coinage minted expressly for the purchase of his services, and the lullaby of placated machinery, as he piloted one-handed above tarry clouds-- was the only member of the set with any lasting power.

The fact that Birk didn't get on so well with his current employer didn't bother him in the slightest. As a rule, crime bosses and condottieri rarely hit it off, and Birk considered his own transactions as good a proof as any. Aside from jotting them down in his reference-book, Birk seldom dwelt on his clients. Not that he erased them entirely-- since his first job at the ripe old age of three, he had never forgotten a patron. To do so he deemed dangerous-- you never knew when a paranoid mobster might sic a squad on you to save their peace of mind, and besides, their dirty secrets often proved lucrative. But Birk, like so many other professionals of his class, made it his habit to distance himself from all manner of personal feeling. It was much safer, and more convenient, to allow everyone you met with to fade into the backstage of your mind, like ghosts, out of sight but still on call.

As it happened, Birk was very much looking forward to the day when, business accomplished and pay in his pockets, he would banish the memory of his present patron to the phantom regions of his brain. Given his history and skills set, Birk had encountered countless very disagreeable people. This person, however, distinguished himself in most every particular of unpleasantness. And besides his less-than-lovable personality, there was his name to contend with. Generally, Birk wasn't overly critical of such things. In fact, he was remarkably tolerant of unusual titles (though this was ultimately financially motivated, as his lenience in the matter brought him all sorts of profitable jobs, rejected by choosy mercenaries who wouldn't take clients with names of more than sixty-two syllables). But if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was arrogance. If you happened to be called "Egregious Eggplantus" because that was what your misguided mother named you, that was no fault of yours and you were to be mocked, not necessarily despised. But "Ffej?" With two 'F's? "Peacock feathers," Birk muttered.

The wind rocked the shuttle a little, and Birk tucked the coins away within one of the many pockets on his person. He glanced at the Ultra-Vap (a play on words between "ultraviolet" and "map") to confirm his location, then clipped his Min-tercom to the front of his vest and switched it on. "Hey there, Ffej," he said, "Sorry to wake you if that's what I did, but I'm in the general area and I'm ready to go. Approaching target, Combat Mode in thirty-six seconds, mark." Whilst filling darts and strapping on tasers, Birk laughed silently to himself, imperceptible to the portable intercom. The mission on which he was about to embark could hardly, in his opinion, be classified as Combat. Abduction, at best. Birk had undertaken many a bizarre kidnapping operation, but this-- the round-up, sedation, and delivery of a bunch of unarmed kids-- bordered on the ridiculous.  He was definitely being overpaid for this. Not that he had a problem with that.

With fifteen seconds to go, Birk dove beneath the clouds, shifted the engine to hover-mode, slid open the doors, and peered out into the night. Thirty feet below him, vague shapes of trees stood out like living shadows in the moonlit mist. "Four seconds to go," Birk whispered to the Min-tercom. "And...action."

Birk~ Part Two(2)

Seizing the retractable rope, Birk flung it over the edge, got a grip on it, and dropped to the ground. The shock absorbers built into his boots broke his fall, and he landed catlike on the grass. "I'm in," he muttered. "It's playtime at the park." Releasing the rope, which instantly recoiled upwards into the shuttle, Birk moved forward through the silver shadows.

The garish colors of the playground equipment appeared more muted in the moonlight. Near the swing set, Birk noticed disturbance in the shredded tire of the turf. Crouching to look, he saw signs of hasty flight, as of a pack of panicked teenagers evacuating the spot, in various groups and directions. This was annoying. Did the kids know he was coming? Had Sheshat predicted his involvement somehow? Scowling, Birk cast about for further signs, and his tracker's eye lit upon a scrap of black cloth, darker than the darkness, snagged on the metal frame of one of the swing sets. Fabric torn from the folds of a long, black cloak. Inwardly, inaudible to Ffej or whomever of his henchmen was listening at the other end of the intercom, Birk swore. Unless sinister mantles had recently become staples of teen fashion, there was someone else out to bag these adolescents! Whether another mercenary hired by Ffej to ensure the job was done, or a seperate party with alien interests, Birk couldn't tell from the evidence. But it was all he needed to know.

Birk was accustomed to this sort of thing-- employers sometimes had quirky and inconvenient ideas about how their business was conducted. And one could never rule out rival operatives hostile to your client, and by extension, you. All he had to do was pull one over on the mystery figure and grab the goods before they did.

Birk thrust forward over the turf, his boots leaving little sign of his presence. Vanishing without a ripple into the darkness of the forested park, like an otter returning to water, he darted between the sylvan sentinels of trees. A larger group of frightened urchin, he saw, had made it into the denser woods ahead. He would find them, first-- secure the majority before he swept up the stragglers.

And then he heard them-- the lighter, wilder steps of a panicked adolescent, and the heavier ones of a pursuer. Their silhouettes moved across a stage of moonlight-- the girl charging for the nearest climbing tree, and the hooded figure just behind. “What is she doing?” Birk thought. “Even if she makes it up, does she think he can’t climb after her?” Whatever paltry plan the girl had in mind, now was the perfect time to deal with his momentarily distracted opponent. It would be easiest to stick him with a dart from this distance, but Birk didn’t know what sort of armor he had on under all that fabric, and it seemed pointless to waste a shot. Changing direction, Birk drew out a tranquilizer and charged across the grass, straight for the figure’s cloaked back. As he did, the mysterious personage lunged for his quarry. The girl, with a little involuntary shriek, leaped up on the other side of tree and clung to a low branch. The figure lunged again. Whether or not he could have seized her before she swung out of reach, no one ever knew. Birk, launching forward from ten feet away, loomed up behind him and caught him around the neck, simultaneously stabbing the sedation dart into his adversary’s shoulder.

Ok, I’ve been working on the next part for this, hopefully I’ll get it done soon! Top!

Top!!!!!!!