[b][i]Foreign Policy[/i][/b] [b]The Dojo Courtyard, Wilson's Vertibird[/b] [i]The Courier had kept himself busy in dealing weapons and munitions, business was good with the tournament going on. Inside the Vertibird, he moved crates of ammo, stacking and organizing his staches of weapons. He'd gotten a call earlier from Wolfe, and he'd set out his selection of pistols so that he could get Riley one she liked. Even though he enjoyed making fun of them, they were basically family to him. Walking out of the aircraft after grabbing a fresh belt of ammunition for his M240B, he was mildly surprised to see none other than Field Marshal Lord Nicholas Clarkson, better known as Crow. [/i] What the hell are you doin' here, Birdie? Don't you have sh*t to do back home in Hereford? [i]He asked, eying the Brit, who wore his full Venom Incorporated exo, which now bore the SAS insignia in place of the cobra.[/i] Good to see you as well, mate. [i]He said, dryly.[/i] Turns out that your little session with Miss Mercier turned up some useful information. We've got a bead on action in the Yucatán and Baha. Cartels, mercenaries, and other n'er-do-wells running around with salvaged armor from Schrader. Atlas is their commander, but I have no bloody idea who he is. Apparently, he's also got three or four lieutenants under his thumb in the field. There's still nothing on his motivation, however. [i]As he finished his final sentence, there was a crackling sound behind him. Turning to face it, he watched as a hulking armored [url=http://www.maybang.com/v/vspfiles/photos/PLY-01-10011-2.jpg]figure[/url] appeared forth from thin air. The machine gun on its shoulder immediately swung down to face Crow and Wilson, and it approached.[/i] What in the bloody hell? It's American? [i]Clarkson asked, confused.[/i] I'm so lost. [i]Wilson said, rubbing his temple.[/i] Go find Rose and make sure she's safe. [i]Crow shot back.[/i] What? DO IT. [i]He said, forcefully.[/i] Jeeez fiiiiiiine. I'll do it. Pissy old Redcoat... [i]With that, Wilson disappeared, leaving Crow on his own to take on the drone. Clarkson knew based on the design, his handguns would do little to it, and so he figured that this was going to have to be done the hard way. The boy began to let loose with its shoulder-mounted .50, spraying at Clarkson, a few rounds impacting, but not doing much damage other than scratching his chestplate. He drew his bo staff and ran towards the robot, weaving and dodging as much as possible. Using the staff as a vault, he launched himself forwards and delivered a vicious kick to the machine's chest, sending it reeling. Recovering, the machine rushed as Crow landed, swinging its hand towards his stomach. Dodging to the side, he used his staff to catch the bot's legs, tripping it. On the ground, the machine rolled over as Clarkson went to drive the staff into its chest. Getting up, a blade extended from its arm, and it swung for the SAS commander. Raising the bo staff, he deflected the strike, but the blade cut his own weapon in half. Tossing the pieces aside, Clarkson rushed the bot again, barely avoiding an oncoming blow from the blade by sidestepping. Grabbing hold of the machine's shoulder, he pulled on the gun, and pulled it off balance, and as the machine fell, he was able to tear the gun from its mounting. As the robot scrambled to pull him off, he climbed atop its back, deploying the parrying blades in his gauntlets, and he locked it in a headlock. As the machine clawed at him, he pulled his arms back, the blades cutting into the metal and the wiring, severing the controls and nearly twisting its head off. Clarkson pushed off of its back, and the machine fell forwards onto the ground, sparking.[/i] [i]Approaching it, he rolled it onto its back with his foot, looking it over. It was most certainly American in design, built post-Third World War and Resource Wars. Strangely, a small compartment on its chest opened up, and a small projector lens emerged, a holographic projection displaying. As this happened, Wolfe appeared at the Vertibird, quickly noticing Clarkson and the machine. However, he was silent, watching the holographic [url=http://features.cgsociety.org/newgallerycrits/g26/269526/269526_1362578387_large.jpg]figure[/url] before Clarkson.[/i] Well, Good to see you, Field Marshal, Colonel. Where's the sociopath at? Busy electrocuting Rose? [i]It asked, sounding fairly upbeat.[/i] Who are you? [i]Clarkson asked, straight to the point.[/i] The weight of the world is on my shoulders, Nick, and that world doesn't want you. [i]The figure replied, almost happily.[/i] You're Atlas. [i]Wolfe said, Clarkson turning to look at him.[/i] DING DING DING! We've got a smart one. Question is, can he figure out what I want? [i]Clearly Atlas was enjoying himself.[/i] Me. [i]Wolfe replied dry.[/i] Well, not quite. Actually, I want all of you! Field Marshal Lord Clarkson for treason, you for four counts of premeditated murder, and your sociopath friend for war crimes. I think that's fair, right? You gents are living in an old world that forgives. There's no place for that now. You're useless to us, to them, and so, we're coming to collect, and I'll do it anyway I have to. I will continue to kill, pillage, and loot until I safely see you all executed. [i]Atlas' hologram retorted.[/i] Go to hell. [i]Wolfe replied, a bit more angry.[/i] Oh I will, and I'll be sure to say hi to Dear Old Dad! [i]He replied, laughing.[/i] [i]Wolfe immediately went silent, Clarkson picking up where he stopped.[/i] We were promised amnesty in turn for our services. I believe we've fulfilled our end of the deal, mate. Your deal was with England, not me. His deal was with you and the Castle. [i]With that, the hologram terminated.[/i] I'm getting too old for this sh*t... [i]Clarkson sighed.[/i] [spoiler]open[/spoiler]