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"I am simply glad to have found a retailer that sells them here. Admittedly, I do not use them all that often. As you point out they are something of a specialty item," Mariusz said, stopping in front of the same apple display as Cara and picking up one of the akero apples to inspect it. It was pale reddish in color, with a generous amount of yellow. He checked it for bruises and squeezed it gently. It looked alright to him so he grabbed a bag and dropped the apple into it.

"I am going to make German Apple Tarts with them, from scratch of course. Cooking from scratch is the only way to properly cook," Mariusz said, continuing to select apples and drop them gently into the bag.

"Would you care to have one," he asked. Normally he wouldn't ask such a question so soon after meeting someone. Still, he lived in a very public place so it wasn't quite the same as asking a complete stranger to come to his apartment or condo in the city. Still, it would probably be a good idea to clarify that little fact.

"I live, and sometimes work, at Xavier's School here in New York," he said, quickly explaining that he lived in a very public place lest the woman think that he was suggesting anything untoward.

"You might be surprised... wait, who is Gawain," Mariusz asked, arching an eyebrow at Maya. What could she possibly mean by 'Maya Day' and 'Gawain Day' and why would someone named Gawain wear a dress in the first place? Of course, he'd seen a lot of interesting things sine he had moved to New York. Like that Naked Cowboy guy. That was disturbing.

"Also, I think I should clarify that I do not mean date in the strictest sense of the word. Not date as in courting but more date as in..."[/color he trailed off for a moment, trying to remember what the right phrase was, "hang out, I think that is the phrase you Americans use, yes?"

In the dark of the night Vidar circled the FOB where he was stationed, aided in locating the base in part by the evening's full moon which was unobscured by clouds in this location and in part by a GPS device attached to his arm. The device indicated that he was over the camp and, with his enhanced vision by the light of the full moon he was able to make out some of the small structures and tents down below. It also helped that at least one of the sentries was, apparently, having a smoke since every few seconds the end of what Vidar assumed was a cigarette would glow red when someone puffed on it. Slowly he circled ever lower, coming closer and closer to the center of the FOB as he decreased his altitude.

"Foresatte Engel to FOB Hawkeye. I'm touching down, now," the big Norwegian said, tapping his radio to transmit as he tucked his wings and dove the rest of the way to the ground. About ten feet up he shoved his wings open and came to an abrupt near stop in the air, descending the rest of the way to the ground and landing in a crouched position before tucking his wings back in against his body. Immediately he was approached by a pair of Australian soldiers.

"Angel! Angel or we will shoot you!"

Vidar sighed. On the one hand this reaction was partially his fault since he should have provided a bit more warning before he landed. On the other hand though how many people in this part of the world had wings and knew enough of the FOB's location to be able to touch down in the middle of it at night? He was reasonably sure he wasn't the only winged person in Afghanistan, it was a simple numbers game. Still, he had to imagine he was the only such person that knew where the FOB was. On the other hand this was a refreshing change from last time when the sentries had simply opened fire without even bothering with the password.

"Foresatte," Vidar replied, calling out in a loud enough voice for them to hear him answer in his native language. While the countersign was a relatively obvious word, not many people would think to respond with the word in the Norwegian language especially in the wilder areas of Afghanistan where they currently were.

Without turning his head Vidar watched the two soldiers and, when they lowered their weapons, he rose to his feet and allowed his rifle to hang by its strap at his side. Obviously satisfied with the response one of the two Aussies reached into a pocket on his uniform and produced a hip flask which was tossed in Vidar's direction and neatly caught in one of his taloned hands.

"Good hunting," the man asked in an accented voice as Vidar unscrewed the top of the flask and took a pull from it. Bourbon, odd choice for an Aussie but to each their own. The liquor burned its way down into his stomach, no doubt partially his body's way of reminding him that he needed to ingest something a bit more substantial than bourbon and the Skittles from several hours ago.

"Got three, clean and confirmed," Vidar answered, screwing the top back on the flask and tossing it back to his fellow soldier while neglecting to provide exact details of what he had done. He was sure there would be something in the press in the coming days about the targets he had eliminated. It seemed that the Americans were always looking for a good spin to put on the continued presence of troops in Afghanistan and, if those targets were as important as Vidar thought they would be it would make a good press release to let the information out though he was sure there would be no mention of how the targets were eliminated.

"Thanks for the drink," Vidar said, nodding at the two Aussies as he moved past them and began to move in the direction of where he would be able to find something to eat, though at this time of night the only options were going to be MRE's.

"Who said anything about risking life and limb," Mariusz asked, arching an eyebrow at Maya even though she couldn't see them since they weren't exactly facing one another. He banked around the large art deco spire of the Chrysler Building and headed out towards the harbor and Ellis Island, among other things. Apparently Maya wasn't quite grasping the concept of skydiving, true skydiving.

"When I say skydiving I mean that I would fly us much higher, though not too high because that would be cold for you. Then, I would simply let go. You would fall for several thousand feet and then I would catch you," Mariusz said, explaining what it was he meant. True, he'd never taken anyone skydiving before since this was the first time the thought had occurred to him. Still though, how hard could it be? Maya wasn't that heavy and her powers made for the idea compliment for skydiving.

Mariusz flapped his wings hard a few times and settled down on the ground. He had chosen to land far enough away from the patrons of the little bistro, or whatever kind of restaurant this was, that his landing wouldn't upset those that were dining out on the sidewalk. Those diners included a brunette teenager that the crow had landed next to. It seemed rather obvious that she was the one controlling the bird's actions, obviously it must have been some sort of psychic link.

"May I," he asked, striding over to the chair opposite the teen and indicating it with a hand gesture. It would have been impolite to simply assume that the chair was unoccupied and his to take if he pleased.

Even in the growing darkness it did not prove difficult to locate the target location. In the growing darkness one of the enemy combatants had come up with the bright idea of using the headlights from several parked trucks to illuminate the area where what looked to be a funeral was taking place. The small patch of the Afghan wilderness was lit up like a Constitution Day Parade which meant that they weren't being nearly as inconspicuous as they thought they were. Of course, that all worked to Vidar's advantage since his night vision, while still keen, was not nearly as impressive as his vision during the day.

The sun had just set behind the mountains and Vidar felt it was safe enough to descend to a height that would make a shot much easier so that he could be sure when he pulled the trigger that he would hit his target and only his target. Slowly Vidar circled in the air, dropping ever closer to the ground as silently as the night which was also falling on the scene. As he dropped in altitude he began scanning the faces of the people below as he caught glimpses of them, searching out his targets.

With so many people still moving about it would be too risky to take a shot right now. It would be best to wait until everyone stilled themselves to pay their final respects since it was now quite clear that there was a funeral going on. No doubt the most important people present would be near the front of the line to pay their respects to a fallen comrade in arms. Still, while they were remembering one there was no reason they couldn't remember a few more as well at the same time.

Slowly the gathered figures assembled in a circle around a hole that had been dug in the Earth and a figure shrouded in white was slowly lowered into the hole. As heads bowed Vidar tapped his radio's mic button and then sighted down the HK417's iron sights. "Foresatte Engel to base," he said in a low, quiet tone, "I'm in position and I have a clear shot on the top target. Request permission to fire."

Hundreds of miles away several figures still huddled around a video monitor that showed what the Predator drone was seeing. The Norwegian officer looked in askance to the U.N. Observer and the American Major. When both men nodded the Norwegian spoke into his headset. "Confirmed, Foresatte Engel you are free to engage."

Vidar responded to the order by beginning to slowly tighten his finger on the trigger of the rifle. There was a muffled thumping noise as one of the rounds was loosed from the rifle. Just as the round left the weapon the figure he had targeted began to bow. Vidar watched the grisly results below him as, rather than striking the target center body mass as he had intended, the 7.62 match grade round entered the target through the top of the skull. The sight was gruesome, but the desired outcome the same as a lifeless body toppled forward into the grave. As the body was falling forward Vidar pulled himself into a tight banking turn so that he would not be in same direction from whence he had fired the shot, pulling the trigger several times in rapid succession as he put round after round of ammunition into the engine blocks of the enemy vehicles, his shots coming in from various angles. Once the magazine was empty he replaced it with a fresh one, forty rounds left.

The response was immediate and something akin to what happened when a person kicked over a nest of fire ants. People scrambled in every direction and the rapid fire staccato of automatic and semi-automatic weapons fire erupted from the group down below. The fire was directed in a three hundred and sixty degree circle around the camp, though it was heaviest in the direction that Vidar had fired the first shot from. However, none of it was directed skyward. Obviously the enemy was operating under the assumption that the opposing force was ground based, a not unreasonable assumption since there had only been small arms fire from him and no explosives or heavy ordinance.

Nobody ever thinks to look or shoot up, he thought to himself, watching as figures leaped into several of the trucks to try and start them only to discover that their engines had been neutralized. Night had now truly fallen which meant that the avian mutant, though large, was practically invisible in the night sky so long as he wasn't stupid enough to descend to a height where the vehicle headlights could pick him up. To do that would be utter lunacy.

Slowly the camp resumed what was a normal defensive stance, with figures crouched down and hiding behind the sturdy forms of their trucks while the smaller among them had actually clambered underneath some of the trucks. While that was going on Vidar circled above the camp, searching for his next target. In all the hubbub after the first shot he had lost all of them, but once the action died down with combatants hunkering down into defense postures and not moving it became easier to spot everyone again.

Spotting another of the men, this one a lower priority target but still on the list, he keyed his mic again and spoke. "Foresatte Engel to base. I have another target in my sights. The shot is clean. Request permission to engage."

Back in an air conditioned room at Bagram the figures conferred once again, basing their decision on the video feed from the drone and the results of the first shot. Again the same decision was reached. "Confirmed Foresatte Engel, you are free to engage."

The feathered mutant's finger tightened on the trigger of the rifle slowly for a second time. There was a muffled thump as the round was discharged from the weapon and, a second later, it buried itself in the back of one of the targets. The man slumped forward against the door of the vehicle he was hiding behind before crumpling to the ground. At this another barrage erupted from the encampment though, again, none of the firing was directed skyward. A few moments later and the shooting and movement died down and Vidar received permission to take another clean shot and a third target was eliminated.

Then they got smart. Several of the remaining combatants, including the high profile targets grabbed some of the non-combatants and began using them as human shields. The winged Norwegian wasn't overly deterred by the tactic change though. Human shields couldn't be everywhere, after all. Silently he glided into position for another shot and hovered in the air, wings flapping slowly as he keyed the mic.

"Foresatte Engel to base. I have a clear shot. Request permission to engage," he said quietly. It was maddening having to go through the process of getting permission for every target he wanted to take out and, in truth, it was as much a move to cover his own feathered hindquarters as anything else. At least this way, if he missed or a shot was errant or a questionable shot had unintended consequences he would always be able to say he was following orders to engage.

Back in the room at Bagram the figures conferred in hushed tones that quickly became heated between the Observer and the American Major which, in turn, drew the attention of others in the room while the Norwegian Lieutenant Colonel and Sergeant Evans simply watched the exchange.

"He hasn't missed a shot yet! He wouldn't say he had a clear shot if he didn't!"

"It doesn't matter! They're using civilian shields now and the risk of injury is too high! Even if the shot is clear there's still risk from bullet penetration! This mission is over!"

The Major swore loudly and stormed off and the Norwegian officer keyed his mic. "Negative, Foresatte Engel. You are not clear to engage. Abort mission and return to your FOB."

"Acknowledged. If ground forces can get on scene quickly it may be possible to round up stragglers. I neutralized enemy ground transportation to the best of my ability given mission parameters. Foresatte Engel is returning to base, tell the Aussies not to shoot at me," the Norwegian mutant said in a serious tone. A few weeks back the sentries had taken a few shots at him by mistake and he had no desire for a repeat performance.