The shimmering lights of the city beneath twinkled a majestic depiction for only me to see. The jet felt empty without my friends and lovers to accompany me, though I knew that they wouldn't be safe on this newly embarked journey. It was a one man journey into a land that Freyja knew best. The clock struck 02:07AM as we touched down in Fairbanks. The game was afoot.
I departed from the plane and went directly to the Chevrolet Tahoe that was waiting for me on the tarmac. With a wave from the pilots you heard the planes thrusters firing backup to travel to their final destination of Anchorage.
The Chevy was a warm and welcoming contrast to the frigid Alaskan air that gusted outside. I threw the SUV into drive and began to navigate the snow covered roads that led to my cabin. The roads boundaries were barely legible as the snow was danced about across the windshield, and the wind continuing to scream its wispy soprano.
I came to an impasse, and quickly found that the roads I once thought to be bad were only the main roads. I turned off to one of the side roads and was instantly grateful for the ride height and knobby tires on the Tahoe. The snow wasn't terrible, but the inability to find roads was the real issue. Thankfully Vitur was here to navigate me through, showing my boundaries through my HUD. After a stressful forty five minutes we reached the driveway to the cabin. I crawled down the twisty drive with the Tahoe in 4Low. I grabbed my duffle from the back of the SUV and made my way inside, thankful for impromptu purchase of snow pants and waterproof boots before boarding the jet from Houston.
The cabin was musty with age but elegantly furnished. Just outside the backdoor sat my snowmobile and toboggan, which will be taking me on this journey. I flicked on the lights to the cabin and walked into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and saw that whoever dropped off my sled was kind enough to drop a steak into the fridge too. I couldn't let it go to waste so I picked one of the well oiled cast iron pans off the rack above the stove and cooked some dinner. While the steak was resting I hunted for some whiskey to no avail. I settled for a couple of swiggs from the gallon of water that was in the fridge. The other gallons have been kept in the heated toboggan compartment. I headed into the living room with the steak on my plate and sat at the single chair that inhabited the room. All of my gear was laid out. I had my rifle, meals, water, blankets, changes of clothes, and first aid kit. I also had my starstone bracelet keeping my left wrist safe.
I munched down the steak and realized that it was time to man up and get on my way. I got dressed in the warmest gear I had and headed out to the sled to load up. Everything was loaded in less than a half hour. I headed out due north. The plan was to average 150 miles, if not more per day. The only reason I would need to stop is to warm myself up in the heated toboggan. By the time I had left, the sun had started to rise. Thankfully there is nobody for miles out this way. My meeting point with Freyja was 400 miles away. I figured that I could be there within two and a half days. The bitter winds bit at my face as I traversed the unkind terrain. Blistering cold barraged me as I continued to skulk. I started out making great time due to the agility, power, and length of the sled. It was nearing dusk before anything eventful happened. I thought it was going almost too well, covering over 200 miles the first day with little to no trouble. However, I was soon informed by Vitur of impending danger ahead.
'Sir, we've got an armed convoy approaching from the east, about a mile out. They seem to be a part of the League of Assassins.'
'Well guess who sold us out,' I vented to myself before my train of thought was interrupted.
'No need to guess, Daniel.' Freyja spoke in my head 'I did. Think of it as a challenge of sorts. Get rid of them in anyway you would like. As far as I see it, this is a two fold advantage for you, you get to assess your adversaries and fight with the audience of the Gods, who are surely watching this one. I'm gonna grab the popcorn, ta ta.'
I flicked the rocker switch on the snowmobile that enabled cloaking mode and found a crest that would serve as my vantage point. I tasked Vitur with learning about long range sharpshooting and had Saga dig for information from my past ancestors. I hopped off the snowmobile and grabbed my rifle off the toboggan. The 6.5 Creedmoor rifle I was armed with had a usable shooting distance of out to 1000yds. So with any luck then enemy won't see me until it is too late.
Vitur provided the information he retrieved and told me that I had around three minutes until they would be within accurate range of the rifle. I made it a point to remain hidden. I realized that my muzzle flash, or the discharge of fire that comes out the end of a rifle after you shoot a round will give away my position. I improvised and grabbed my starstone bracelet and morphed it into a flash hider. I screwed it onto the end of the rifle, only two minutes until they came. I loaded up three magazines full of ammunition.
One minute. They were starting to come into sight. The had two hummers with tank-like tracks on them to deal with the deep, powdery snow. The hummers were surrounded by two snowmobiles in the front, and two in the back, each with two riders on them. They were sporting .223 bolt action rifles, which had a closer effective range then my 6.5 Creedmoor. At this moment, I have the tactical advantage.
'Vitur, scan their vehicles and see what materials they are made of. Can the heal themselves?'
'Hold.' Vitur said, thirty seconds passed 'No sir, they are only metal. Non self repairing.'
My plan was solidified. I grasped the turrets of the high powered scope of my rifle and approximated their distance and the windage. I clicked the dials of the scope to zero in on my targets. My first target was the hood of their hummers. It was a large enough target where I felt comfortable taking the first few shots with minimal accuracy. I took deep slow breath as Vitur's information dictated. At the bottom of my breath, when my lungs were empty, I used the natural momentary pause of breath as my shooting point, in efforts to keep my body as still as possible.
The squeeze of the trigger resulted in a small amount of recoil as my shot rang true to its target, as it hit dead center in the middle of the hummer, throwing the 6.5 Creedmoor bullet directly into the middle of the engine block. For a couple seconds the hummer didn't stop, until I saw a great ploom of smoke and heard the distant coughing and sputtering of the hummers engine. I pulled the bolt of the rifle back and chambered another round. Another accurate shot resulted in the second hummer being immobilized, as well.
I immediately saw the snowmobiles in the front turn around and race to cover, frequently looking behind them trying to find where the shot came from. The latter set of snowmobiles joined their compatriots in retreating for cover. This wasn't good enough, I needed to immobilized those snowmobiles too. The snowmobiles raced back to cover within a rocky ridge up a small incline from where the hummers sit dead. The passengers within the hummer stayed put, I assume on orders of the mobile team who are most likely hiding their snowmobiles to go and retrieve their associates.
I hopped onto my snowmobile and decided to find a better vantage point. I drove up to the second peak of the hill, it was over further with a partial view to the ridge where they hid. I reached into the bag on the toboggan where the binoculars were located. I looked in and saw that they had parked their snowmobiles inside of a small wooded area, any gunshots would have a high probability of being ricocheted and missing its target. I decided to wait a little while and observe their movements.
I sat looking through the scope of my rifle trying to find out more about these people. They are well trained, intelligent, and cunning. Yet they are unskilled in offensive attacks, they are impatient, and brash. They also seemed to panic under pressure. This was seen in how they didn't maneuver their hummers into a more tactical location with the limited time they had left after my bullets made contact. This wasn't the same caliber of people who chased me in Paris. These people were the B-Team, at best. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it was notable.
I decided it was time to eat as I hadn't done that in over twelve hours. I pulled an MRE from the compartment within the toboggan as well as a gallon of lukewarm water. As I ate my meal I longed for a fire and a warm cup of something in my hand. Suddenly, I heard the spits and pops of a crackling fire only a couple feet in front of me. I looked up from my meal and saw a fire, as well as a person. I instantly knew him, he was the Jarl, one of my past souls that live within me. Half of his face was tattooed with Nordic Tribal print and he wore his hair long and in a ponytail. His rugged outside and big build made him look menacing. He held a cup of coffee in his hand, gazing down upon the plain we were situated above.
"Don't worry," He spoke, sipping his drink in between talking "the fire isn't real, your position isn't compromised."
