Nepal

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

Files have been uploaded or otherwise distributed. Weapons have been assigned as needed, and most of the flight to Nepal is behind them.

Special Agent Anderson's voice comes over the transport's comm as they reach the last leg of the flying end of their journey.

"All right, folks, you're on approach for your destination. If there are any questions, now would be time...uh...before you enter into the dead zone."

Comments

[azure-avenger.livejournal.com]

"Awww, man - I hate Anthony Michael Hall."

[zinda-blackhawk.livejournal.com]

Moments later, the plane drops sharply about a dozen feet before stabilizing once more. The lights aboard flicker out for good. "Sorry about that, folks!" Zinda calls over her shoulder. "This place is playin' a hell of a game of howdy-doody with this crate." She's trying to get below the cloudline to get a visual lineup on a landing area as she banks the craft around once more. The large brass aviator's compass, slapped onto the instrument panel just to her right, has a cracked face; it's been through a great deal in its time. Its needle spins wildly, forcing another muttered curse from the Southern Belle.

[bronze-tiger.livejournal.com]

Ben is way, way out of his depth. All during the plane flight in, he kept an ear on the banter and both eyes looking out the window. All of these people are powered, with abilities almost too vast to comprehend.

And here he was, a man with a knack for violence and more than a few screws loose upstairs. Still, this was no different than your average Squad mission. Just ... more.

The bumpy ride doesn't faze him too much - he automatically shifts his weight around to compensate for the dips and banks. The Bronze Tiger was in control - no, Ben was in control. The Bronze Tiger was a mask he wore, nothing more.

Hopefully this collection of screwups, misfits, jokesters, and children wouldn't get him killed. With that thought, he finally smiled.

This was just like the Suicide Squad.

[plazmania.livejournal.com]

Plaz takes a look around once they get to a more populated area.

"Hmm. Looks mighty touristy for a high-altitude Bermuda Triangle..."

[jla-eb.livejournal.com]

When they round the corner of one of the rough village streets, he stands. Wizened eyes pick details from the strangers within seconds while he steps away from the door to his home.

He has been guide for most of his life. These days he spends most of his time talking people into staying off of the mountain. If those in the first large bird had come to the village first, he thinks, maybe... No matter now.

"Americans. Here."