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You keep to the radar shadows of old buildings.
The Exclusion Cone used to be a city, you see. In fact, a handful of people still live there, though they're not the sorts that get along with civilized folk. Without Baldr Inhibitors, nine out of ten people turn into pillars of salt when they come down with the chlorination. Of every thousand who survive, nine hundred and ninety nine of those guys become the sort of people whose shadow you can see among the ruins. Savage and mutated, cannibal beasts with red eyes who serve the three eyed bastard who rules over Jerusalem. The last one becomes a Nephilim.
The crumbling old titans of stone and steel, striding over paths of tar and concrete provide a good shadow for you. OpCam's up, VoxDamp's up, you're as silent as they come and even radar won't tell you from a sparrow unless you open up your doors right now. You don't know why the Colonel needs you quiet for Exfil. Frankly, you don't think you want to know.
[We are coming up on coordinates now...] HERTHA warns you. [Warning, multiple Pascal-3 signatures detected at landi-]
"Yeah, I see 'em," you interrupt.
You don't know what the lab boys mean when they talk about Pascal signatures and metaphysical density. What you do know is that there are three big mother hubbards made of alien steel and an intense hatred for humanity standing where you need to land. Titans of twisted blue steel and sickly oozing flesh: Jotuns. They're what happen when those one of those red-eyed cannibal bastards gets smart enough to start tinkering with the machinery at the heart of each exclusion zone.
Now Valks aren't Sparrowhawks. Your bird can take a few hits from most man-portable surface to air weaponry. Three Jotuns would tear you apart the moment they see you.
[Proceeding is inadvisable.] HERTHA says the obvious. [Calculating course of action that will result in mission completion...]
Before the little GI can finish her calculations - before you can even pull out - three roars of thunder crack through the air and slam into the Jotuns' eye. Your personal comm-line buzzes with a message that makes you wince.
===PersoCOMM==
Ritter-1: Hey there taxi driver~
Ritter-1: Didn't see wreckage with the Jotun, so you better not be dead
Ritter-1: Your LZ's clear, bring the puppy home safe will you?
Ritter-1: And later I got a reward for you~
Ritter-1 attached [Meet Me at the Heartland at 8.png]
Ritter-1: Gotta run <3
======
Right at the bottom, in a message that you KNOW security's tech boys have to read by procedure, is a rather delightfully compromising picture of what Ritter-1 wears beneath her uniform.
[Air Marshal...] HERTHA sounds annoyed at you for some reason. [All inter unit fraternization must be documented with form-]
"Not now, HERTHA," you say, scoping your options.
>By the old subway entrance
>By the entrance to a ruined museum
>By the shoreline
>At the main thoroughfare
>Center of the LZ
>Land and open the ramp
>Hover and let down a ladder
