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Date & Time: Backdated to 10/13; evening
Location: Manchester, UK @ 2am
Characters: Charlie Cutter & Tempest
Format: Tempest and Charlie on a mission to fetch supplies for the medbay
Warnings: Swearing and skullduggery

In the grand scheme of things, finding a medical supply warehouse had taken a sight more digging through the absolutely massive list of records on hand through the AI that it would've been to simply target a hospital and be done with it, but there was something off putting about lifting equipment out of the places it was actually needed. Steal a box load of syringes from a warehouse and someone just needs to place a new order; jack them from a hospital and someone's personally been fucked.

It does mean going in blind though - Charlie's not willing to spend the extra day on the ground to do the usual recon work he'd usually insist on. Finding things like building plans, identifying which security systems they'll have to disable and what kind of people they have walking the ground itself is going to be somewhat of a 'fly by the seat of their pants' sort of thing, but everything else has been as well researched as he could manage. He's certain pulling a few boxes, a few stone of equipment from this particular warehouse won't make a difference to anyone in the grand scheme of things. Someone might get chewed out for leaving a door unlatched, but as far as time travel fallout goes, this is as minimal impact as he can think to make it. Besides: it's bloody Manchester. Charlie can almost guarantee this won't be the first time someone's busted in.

The transporter drops him and Tempest off some fifteen miles from the actual location. "Oh for fuck's sake," is the first thing out of Charlie's mouth when they hit the ground and he realizes its gone off a touch wrong. He's slightly nauseous from the jump, pale - though that may be because it's full winter here, everything icy and drab and grey as the smoke rising in the distance from the factory district.

All that careful planning and now they've got to hot wire a car.

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Charlie's curse is echoed by Tempest, except in an entirely different language and through chattering teeth. She had expected something to go wrong - it always did, no matter how planned out heists and the like were. She was a mercenary, after all; she was used to shit hitting the fan and having to adjust plans accordingly.

What she hadn't expected was bloody winter. She wraps her arms around herself tightly, already feeling herself shiver. Winter was and never would be her friend; her childhood was spent being ill during the cold season, and her adulthood spent hiding away from it in the warmest inn she could find.

Some warning that it was going to be this fucking cold would have been nice, at least. "I-I certainly hope this place is not far, because I am already turning into a bloody icicle."

Gentleman isn't a word anyone would use to describe Charlie Cutter, but that doesn't keep him from impatiently shedding his coat and lobbing it in her direction. "C'mon, there's cctv all over this road."

He cuts quickly across the lane, pulling the sleeves of his pullover down over his hands to keep them from going numb. "We need to find a car that isn't covered by the cameras." Shit, she probably doesn't even know what a car is. Honestly, he wasn't worried about the cameras - getting in and out of the warehouse would be fast enough that even if someone sent the filth down, they'd be too late to catch them porting out. But getting nicked for stealing a car on the way?

That'd just be embarrassing.

She happily takes the coat, pulling it on and huddling in it like it's ten degrees colder than it already was. It was almost embarrassing, how easy it was for her to get cold. But she wasn't about to complain about it. They had a job to do, after all.

She follows after him, glancing around and spotting the cameras. He is, of course, right about her not knowing what a car was, but cctv was something she had come across in looking up things to avoid. She frowns up at one, then catches up so she's walking next to Charlie.

"I can take out the cameras if you like." And she waves her fingers at him for emphasis. "A little bit of lightning, late on a night like this is not too odd, yes?"

That earns a sidelong glance, a beat of consideration. One of these days he's going to get used to the whole 'oh right, magic is real' thing and learn to account for it instead of being surprised by how convenient it is. Christ what he wouldn't do for wizard or whatever Tempest is back home; would make things a bit easier, wouldn't it?

"I see someone's thinking on their feet." He's still striding along, shoulders up round his ears. He'd forgotten how cold it can get. "Alright, let me find us a ride and then you can take out the likely eyes in the sky."

It doesn't actually take long. They're in a dark patch of Manchester and there's cars parked at intervals, but finding one he can get into without a coat hanger is the trick. That said, Charlie quickly hones in on an older Corsa. He pauses across the street from it, shooting a look up and down the road. "Alright, just there." He points out the camera as subtly as he's able. There's one farther along, but he'll bet it doesn't reach this far.

Tempest follows his gesture, eyeing the camera, then anything else around it. She'd read about power outages, caused by storms and lighting. She couldn't make it rain, but like she said - random lightning wouldn't be too out of the ordinary.

She murmurs under her breath in Elven, speaking the incantation for the spell she needs. It takes a little more concentration than normal, as she's trying not to give away what she's doing, the two of them being subtle and all. And her gesturing as she normally would have to would absolutely be suspicious.

But it's only a moment or two later that the lightning strikes, just to the side of the camera he pointed out. It shorts out quickly, sparking for a moment before it goes quiet, and the lightning's gone. To finish it off, and to add to the "atmosphere", the sound of thunder rolls above them. She turns to Charlie and raises both eyebrows.

"Any others?"

It's more than a little impressive and that much shows on his face; it's hard to be terribly cross about anything when someone's just shot out a cctv camera with goddamn lightning. Charlie throws her a sidelong glance, a quick grin, and then quickly crosses toward the Corsa while digging through the small leather satchel at his hip. By the time he rounds to the car's boot, he's got a flat head screwdriver in hand.

He tests the latch first; not surprisingly, it's locked. So Charlie makes quick work of kicking in one of the tail lights, prying the metal backing out with the screwdriver. The hole doesn't allow for a lot of wiggle room, but it's enough space to fit his hand and arm through so he can pop the latch on the boot. In all, it takes about three minutes (god bless the Corsa and it's shit latch design) before he's got it open.

"Be a dear and crawl through there to unlock the door, would you? The seat should push down." He'd do it himself, but let's be honest: he'd have a harder time squeezing through than she will.

It takes her a moment to actually respond to him, because she's staring at the Corsa like it's the first time she's ever seen something like it - and spoilers, it is. She's heard about cars here and there, even saw a picture of one once in her ongoing research, but in person? Nope.

She glances at him, though, then kneels down to peer through. Does he really expect her . . . of course, though, she's a skinny thing and she'd have an easier time than Charlie would. She sighs and tugs off the jacket she was huddling in, just so she doesn't ruin it, and holds it out to him. "You may as well take this back, then."

Another sigh, and she's crawling through as asked, pushing the seat down and making her way to the front. She stares at the door for longer than it takes her to get there, until she finally figures out how to unlock the bloody thing.

He takes the jacket back, but keeps it folded over his arm; Charlie's willing to bet she'll want it again. There's an awkward moment as he's leaned over, trying to talk to her through the window-- "No, it's right there. You flip that bit and it'll unlock it," -- and then she's got it.

"There we are! Well done, my darling." He yanks the door open and passes her his coat. "Shift over," is as much warning as she gets before he swings down into the driver's seat and pulls the door shut behind him.

Charlie doesn't bother with a flashlight - simply turns on the overhead dome light before he jams the screwdriver into the key's ignition. It's unlikely, but maybe they'll get exceptionally lucky-- but no, trying to turn the screwdriver gets him a lot of nothing and he swears very mildly. "Keep a look out," he says as he works the screwdriver into the steering wheel column's cover, popping it out of place and exposing the mess of electrical work behind it.

He's right; as soon as he passes his coat to her, Tempest is tugging it right back on, a half-awkward struggle as she shifts over into the passenger seat.

She peeks into the side mirror and glances both ways down the street, head tilted to listen for anything she might not see. Though she can't help but glance every now and then at what Charlie's doing. Although, she tries not to stare for too long, since she's supposed to be lookout and all.

Of course, that won't stop her from making a comment every now and then. "Will it work if you rip it apart like that, dear?"

"I'm not ripping it apart," he fusses right back at her, hunched down in the tight space as he carefully starts to sort through the wiring. "This is art, thank you very much." Honestly. 'Rip it apart.' Who does she think he is?

Finding the proper wire is the hard part, if there's anything about this that's difficult at all. Once he has it isolated, Charlie goes fumbling through his kit again and comes up with small pair of wire cutters and a roll of electrical tape. He quickly winds some of the tape around his fingers, running through a good half of the roll before he's satisfied. From there Charlie makes quick work of the wiring, stripping the power wires and twisting the ends together. Same goes with the starter wires, though these he spends more time with while gently cursing under his breath. Don't get electrocuted, don't get electrocuted--

"Alright then, cross your fingers." He gently touches the two ends of the starter wire together and--

--and the Corsa coughs to life, engine settling to a low little purr. Charlie makes a delighted little noise, tying off the end with a few more bits of electrical tape.

The funny thing about having someone in the car who doesn't exactly know what a car is, is that their reactions will at least lighten the mood a little.

The Corsa coughs to life, and Tempest lets out a little squeak, startling and nearly sitting right in the chair as she turns to look at him. Both of her hands slam down on the front of the car, as if she's bracing herself for it to explode or something similarly worse.

"Bloody hell." She breathes out after it doesn't explode. "Is it supposed to make that horrid noise?"

And it does get an amused sidelong glance out of him, that delight over getting the car running turning straight into a low bark of laughter at that beat of panic (how nice of you, Charlie). "Yes," he chuckles, stowing the tape and wire cutters back in his kit. He unwinds the tape from his fingers and throws the Corsa into gear. "It's supposed to do that. Hold on."

Charlie isn't necessarily the world's most competent driver - he hasn't driven anything in over a year for one, and he never made it much of a habit to begin with, but he manages to get the Corsa out of it's massive parallel parking spot against the curve and gun it down the road. It's been a long time since he's been in Manchester, but he's fairly confident that if he makes enough left turns that he'll find his way to somewhere the looks familiar.

She would snap a comment at him (it was scary, okay) except the car starts moving and she's bracing herself against the front of the car and the door now. Only this time, she's shooting him a dirty look, the picture of cat who has had its dignity put into danger.

He does his very best to ignore the look on her face - or more pointedly, not to laugh at it - as he navigates the Corsa along the streets. Traffic's mostly dead: lonely signal lights and crosswalks at two am. "I take it you've never been out joyriding then?" Shame.

Sure enough, he eventually finds himself to a thoroughfare he thinks he recognizes between having been to Manchester a few years ago and pouring over maps of the city for the past few days. Charlie wheels the Corsa round, faster than he really ought to, and hooks down toward where he's pretty sure their destination is. They've got something like an hour and a half left before they're pulled back; they'll have to make it quick.

At this sharp turn, Tempest bangs into the door and lets out a harsh curse; and again, the look is turned on Charlie. "I have never been in a car before." She mutters, but loud enough that he'll hear. "Until now, and your horrid - what is it, driving? Honestly."

There's no bite in it, at least; well, none directed at him. She's cold, she's in a strange modern form of transportation, and - okay maybe some of it's directed at Charlie, because geez, is this how you're supposed to drive? She was never getting into one of these ever again.

"What? I'm a fantastic driver." Said with all the conviction of someone who's pretty sure they're lying, but fuck off it's not like she knows any better now is it? "But also perhaps you ought to put your lap belt on. It's just there." He takes his eyes off the road to lean across her, fingers catching at the seat belt before he drops his hand down to the side where it clips in. "You just put the end in there."

--Aaand back to the road, which he's lovingly drifted over a lane and a half of. Luckily it's quite late and no one's around to suffer any vehicular manslaughter.

And again, her hand slams against the side of the door as he swerves. She quickly grabs the belt and hooks it in, then looks down at it as if it's insulted her. How in the hell was a belt supposed to protect her if they crashed? The modern world just continued to confuse the hell out of her.

"Please, for the love of whatever God you pray to, pay attention to what you are doing."

"Would you rather do this part?" Because he suspects only one of them has got their driving licensing and he's pretty sure he knows who it is.

But fair point. Gripping the wheel with both hands again, Charlie motors along the thoroughfare, quickly cutting back into side streets to avoid being pulled over thanks to the busted in tail light. From there, it doesn't actually take terribly long to reach where he's meaning to go as the smaller, taller buildings begin to fall away in favor of larger structures stretching out into the darkness of the factory district. Here he takes it slow, carefully making note of street names as they go, mentally cross referencing it to the map he's got in his head.

He paused for a long time at a quiet intersection before he steers the Corsa left. A few minutes later he makes a low noise and taps the window as they drive past an older brick and mortar warehouse behind a high paneled fence. "There's our building." He drives past it, looking for a place to dump the Corsa.

The muttering response sounds suspiciously like "I could do a better job than you" but Charlie could be hearing things. Maybe.

When he points out the building she leans over to look at it; she'd been on enough missions to recognize the immediate differences between this and her world, where to look for security, cameras, the like - not exactly the most respectable sort of thing to learn about the modern world, but it came in handy. Like now.

"How are we to get in there?"

"Ah, the million dollar question." He has a few ideas, particularly given her earlier display on the cctv, but it's nothing he's willing to commit to just yet. "My money's on reasonably shit security if we're lucky, maybe three blokes at the worst and one of them in some kind of bird's nest with an eye on the monitors." Though they might luck out and only have a few people patrolling the perimeter; warehouse jobs are always a touch hit or miss. Not that it matters; they've just got to get in, pack up a few things before their timer runs out and they'll be golden.

It's a one way trip and getting in is rarely the hard bit.

"In which case, we just knock out their electricity - thank you -, kill their backup generator if they've got one, and then bust open a door. Simple as pie."

Charlie drives maybe three blocks before he swings the Corsa off into a narrow little street leading into another set of warehouses likely attached to a factory. He reaches down under the steering column and pull apart the two wires he twisted together earlier; the car shuts off abruptly. "Lock your door on the way out, would you love?"

He promptly clambers out of the car.

"Things are never as simple as they seem, dear." Tempest says once the car stops, and she gets out after a moment of reluctance and locks the door as asked. She immediately wraps her arms around herself. She didn't want to be a downer, but that was just her experience; hell, the last time she thought something was "simple enough", she'd left the campaign sans one of her fingers. Of course, this was medical supplies and not magical artifacts, so maybe it would go a little more smoothly.

"Don't be such a bloody pessimist. It'll be fine." Hell, they might even get lucky and there'll be no security at all save for a locked gate and some kind of silent alarm. Not like every company under god's green earth was great at protecting their product and the middle man was usually the weakest link in any chain.

But he's not betting on it either.

Shoulder rounding from the cold, Charlie leads the way along the dark little street, looping straight back up the main thoroughfare they've just come. It's late enough, quiet enough and there's no cctv here to really discourage him from being less than subtle. Once they get back to their warehouse and the proper line of fence, he'll think about getting a little more creative. Right now, he says no problems with waltzing in the direction of the front door.

"Realist, not pessimist, love." She counters, in her best impression of his accent. Hell, but she really was picking up on his damn pet names. Dammit.

She heaves a sigh and keeps an eye out for any of those cameras anyway, fingers twitching in the confines of Charlie's borrowed coat. Does he really think walking right in the front is a good idea? She couldn't think of a worst idea, save for maybe trying to get another car once they were done.

"Are we climbing the fence, or are you really planning to just walk in?"

There's no hiding that distinctly derisive tone to the question, but Charlie does his best to ignore it anyway. "No, we're not just walking in," he says, tone tight despite himself. "We'll take a nice little walk round the far side of the lot and hop the fence from there."

They haven't got time to fully case the place, but there's nothing stopping them from walking the perimeter - especially since, so long as they've got sharp eyes, she can take out any cameras they might theoretically have posted before someone gets a good look at them.

"Oh, good," Tempest relents, and there's no sarcasm in the answer for once. "I certainly hope it is, at least, warmer outside." Because even if she's alert for cameras or guards or what-have-you, it was still fucking cold and the next time she went on a mission she was bringing heavier clothes.

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dear nsa please dont arrest me for looking up a thousand videos on how to hot wire a car

I think you'll be ok

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