#normal part of the political process and people do it fairly frequently without incident.

[when-did-this-become-difficult]

.

right wing media about ceasefire protests really has my parents messed up...in the run up to one simple non disruptive (not binding ourselves to a bridge or whatnot) protest today, both of them have expressed worries about violence and antisemitism and hatred...like idk i know one of them has never been to a protest and the other only briefly, but like...right wing media really has people's minds fucked up, they think every rally is going to turn into a hate rally or something. the funny thing is, though, if you talk to people long enough, including my parents, most of them will eventually be like "okay I'd be fine with a ceasefire. as long as they return the hostages and stop launching rockets too" and it's like yeah...fine...then we agree? there should be a ceasefire? asdf;lkasdf;ladsfjdfsjsd;f like don't insult me i'm your own daughter and i've never expressed antisemitism but the moment i want to go to a ceasefire protest they're like WATCH OUT WHAT YOU MIGHT GET SUCKED INTO...okay you watch out, because in a couple years you might realize that tens of thousands were killed with your tax dollars and you did nothing to stop it???? idk? also how is calling for a ceasefire antisemitic, when in the US, Jewish people have been among the most vocal in calling for a ceasefire, second only to Palestinians themselves??????

#I am not a confident person but I know who I am and what I believe on this and I am not going to get 'sucked into' anything. Thanks. #I am going to stand up and be counted and then I am going to go home and sit down and have dinner. Thanks. #Like idk how to explain to people for whom protest is always painted as abnormal and violent and dangerous...that protest is actually a #normal part of the political process and people do it fairly frequently without incident. #Shoutout to the brand of tumblr post that's like 'to live your life you must disappoint your parents' because I need those posts to keep #rolling across my dash. I take them to heart. #I really do need to get fully used to disappointing and concerning and worrying and annoying my parents. For only good reasons. But still. #vent post #j.2023.all #the state of the union

[shatteredskies042]

With Hunt VI

Before heading down to the tailor, Michael relaxed for a few minutes and took a shower. His first since they began this adventure, it felt cleansing, washing what had happened in Rome and invisible dirt off of his skin. Reenergized, Michael dressed in the slacks and white button up shirt the staff had provided to them. He looked over the note the blonde had left him, instructions for the tailor it seemed: Italian suit, two buttons, tapered trousers, tactical lining? He’d have to ask about that. Picking up the note and the coins, he started for the door.

Outside, he passed a few people checking into a room, both sides exchanging glances and sweeps for weapons. Michael was not carrying at the moment, but he could defend himself if need be without one. Reaching the elevator, Michael nodded politely to the operator, asking him to direct him to the tailor. After receiving directions, the elevator operator asked a question Michael had grown accustomed to:

“Are you and Miss Allyson partners?”

“We work together fairly frequently,” Michael stated during the ride down.

“If I may, sir, a word of warning,” the operator inquired. With a nod from the soldier, he told him to: “be careful around her. There are many who would like to bring harm to her.”

“I am fully aware of that,” the soldier promised.

“And you do know, sir, that they will come for you to hurt her as well?”

“Let them come,” Michael replied easily.

“You are very confident, sir,” he stated. “Many mortal men would not, with all that is arrayed against you.”

Michael remained silent as he looked at the shiny doors as they opened. He strode out, and down the hallway to where the tailor operated his business. The tailoring process was played out as the tailor made his measurements, and it seemed everyone in the hotel knew of his association with Ally. All providing some warning about the blonde, but nothing he had not heard of before or experienced himself.

The tailoring went fine, Michael’s measurements taken with a minimum of fuss as the two spoke. They began to discuss the tactical lining that seemed to be proprietary to the hotel’s organization.

“Practically guaranteed to stop small caliber weapons fire. Sustained fire may cause issues,” the Italian tailor stated, holding a sample of the lining. “But, as with getting shot-”

“It hurts like hell,” Michael finished.

“Speaking from experience,” the tailor noted, “would you like the finished product delivered to your room?”

“Yes, I would appreciate that, thank you,” Michael told the tailor, shaking his hand before leaving the man to his work. As he strode back towards the elevator with a smile on his lips, the sound of Allyson’s voice filled his head.

Michael, get the car, right now! She sounded panicked, and more came shortly thereafter: I spotted Portia, she’s in a small convoy headed west, through the city.

Michael sprinted into action, retracing their earlier steps back into the garage and finding the yellow Porsche. Popping the trunk, he grabbed his rifle and carried it into the front, sticking it between his legs, barrel down against the floor as he turned the key and fired the motor. Ally, I need street names, he told her, racing out of the garage and onto the streets of Zurich.

Michael ducked in and out of traffic, heading west and crossing a bridge spanning the Limmat river. He saw an entry ram to what appeared to be a highway ahead, but slowed to try to hear from Ally first. Ally?

Sorry, can’t make out anything, but there’s a blue sign, white seventeen on it, she told him. Headed northwest, following the road. I’ll tell you if they turn off, but I don’t think they will, even through their link, she sounded exhausted.

Michael looked around quickly, and saw that the ramp would merge onto the highway she was talking about. It was a bit of a risk, pulling ahead of them. But she stated there wasn’t much risk of them turning off, and if they did, Michael had the speed to catch up. How are you following them? He asked curiously.

I may have carjacked somebody. And the cops are after us too, so there’s that.

Michael sighed and shook his head as he accelerated and entered the highway. So much for being low profile, he commented, driving the speed limit and waiting for the chase to catch up to him. Make of their vehicles?

Black Suburbans, three of them. I think our targets are in the middle one, she told him. So, what’s our plan?

You need to shake the heat, Michael told her first, watching his mirrors for signs of the approaching vehicles.

I’m not going to let them get away, Michael, she told him.

Do you trust me?

Yes, I do, but this is personal.

I know, just back off and let me handle this while you lose the heat, the soldier told her. Taking them out right now and getting away with it would be difficult, and we can’t risk it. I’m going to follow them, and see if I can find out where they’re going.

Michael they need to be stopped, Allyson replied.

And they will be. Not with Swiss police hot on your tail, he told her.

Fine, I’ll pull off the highway and lose em.

Thank you, Michael told her.

Behind him, he saw black Suburbans accelerating ahead them. He saw Allyson turn off the highway, with the police following her. Michael glanced over at the convoy, and kept driving like normal. He felt eyes on his car, and breathed evenly. He had the SCAR between his legs, but with the smoked windows of the car it would be extremely difficult for someone to just look through.

Michael cut his throttle and let the group slide past him, before pulling in behind them. He did everything he could to appear and drive normally, following what is seemed to be a path towards the airport. Ally, how are you doing? He asked her.

You might want to brace, she recommended.

As soon as she said that, pain wracked his body. It was subtle, but still there. What did you do? He asked.

Kinda crashed the car into a ditch, she told him, dove out at the last second.

Are you okay?

I’m fine, she promised. I’m running to you. And I’ve shaken the cops. They’re looking for a blonde, not a white wolf.  

Michael shook his head and laughed, I think they’re going to the airport, he told her, as the group pulled off the highway to exit to the Zurich airport. Michael watched them turn off, and let them pass, taking the next exit.

I’m still a few minutes away, where are they going? Ally wanted to know, as she ran at full tilt towards him.

Headed to the fixed base operator’s terminal, he remarked, private gate.

Makes sense for them to have a private jet, anything on the tarmac? Ally asked.

Michael looked around slowly as he came to a stop. Looks like a Gulfstream idling.

You know how I just threw the cops off me? She said, regretting what she was going to ask him to do.

You want me to take them out before they can leave, he put together. What if I just grabbed registration off their aircraft?

Michael, I want them dead. Not tracked.

And I can’t start a gunfight on the tarmac of one of the world’s most secure international airports, he told her. While yes, he could, it would bloody and difficult to pull it off, and getting away was the issue here. This was the best he could do without causing an international incident. He looked over to the flightline, and saw the three Suburbans stop before the open ramp of the closest private jet. Michael quickly memorized the tail number and registry, then drove towards Ally to meet her. When she arrived, he leaned over and popped her door open, before she climbed in still in her wolf form, curling up on the leather seat, but spilling over parts of it.  

I can get the hotel to track their flight, Ally told him, but irritation was obvious in even her mental voice. And probably get us one to follow, but they have a head start, and I don’t like it.

“I’m sorry, Ally, but we don’t need to make this a suicide mission,” he told her. “Jumping out there would have drawn more than just her security,” Michael stated.

The white wolf riding shotgun huffed, then seemed to go to sleep. The drive back to their hotel was quiet, and uneventful. Ally napped the whole way, until they hit the incline of the parking garage. She perked up, and shifted back into her human form to stretch in the enclosed space. “Take your rifle and your gear, we’ll go and hit them as soon as we find out where they’re going,” she told him curtly.

He understood her irritation, and as he alighted the car, told her again that he was sorry about how things had played out.

In response, the blonde leaned on the roof of the vehicle and looked at him, “Michael, I understand why you did what you did, I forgive you. But I’m not happy about it,” she admitted, in a gentler voice. “Let’s just get this done so I can close this door to my past,” she said quietly before heading inside.

Michael dug his apparel and his gear out of the trunk, slinging the vest partially over his shoulder with his darker clothing, while holding his rifle and belt in his free hand. As he headed for the hotel, Ally came back to him: “What’s the airplane’s ID?” Michael repeated it back to her, then the blonde nodded. “Go ahead and just put that stuff on,” she told him, “I’ve already arranged transport.”

Sighing, Michael set the gear back down next to the yellow sports car and quickly looked around to confirm he was alone. Then, he quickly changed from civilian clothes into the darker and reinforced tactical clothing he wore. As he was about to pull his shirt on, Ally’s voice rang out across the parking garage again, causing him to turn to face her.

“Oh,” she whispered softly, seeing him shirtless. “I, uh, need the departure time,” she told him, her eyes raking over his fit and scarred form.

Michael held her gaze for a moment, before slipping the custom made shirt on and pulling it taut. He gave her the time the aircraft had departed, and questioned her again when she still had a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Right, eleven oh seven,” she repeated, shaking her head and turning away to stride back into the hotel. What Michael couldn’t see was the smirk on her lips, and the faint sparkle in her eyes.

Michael shook his head, continuing to put on his gear in the same meticulous manner as he had been taught. As he finished, Ally reappeared, already dressed in her dark operating apparel. “Come on, transport is waiting in the basement,” she told him.

Michael casually strode over to her, and followed at her side as two heavily armed individuals clad in black walked through the ornate hotel lobby. They entered the elevator, descended, and climbed into a black SUV of their own for the ride out to the airport they had just visited. “We’ve got a plane waiting on us, they’ll have an hour and a half head start, but provided we don’t hit any bad winds, we’ll be fine,” Ally told him.

“Where are they going?” Michael asked.

“Svalbard.”