Dewey Lake State Forest (MISSION)

A national forest in the backwoods of Kentucky. Measuring out at over 7000 acres, no one would think twice about seeing strange creatures running around in the wild. There just so happened to be some of those running around today. About a dozen pixies were floating around the base of a tree, their touch growing a pale, fuzzy moss across the trunk in swirling patterns. The tiny blue-skinned creatures flitted about in the daylight, not a care in the world. Sure would suck if something happened in the near future to spoil their fun. Yep. Just hanging out in the forest. Definitely nothing going to happen.

If everyone decided they don't want to do this, I'll cancel it.

Zulu wore green fatigues for this mission as he remained camouflaged within the shrubbery, remaining hidden throughout the entire time as he surveyed the are around him, keeping in mind over any distortions of meandering mundane sound, any sorts of rustles, and signs for those bastard pixies. About 100 yards away from the pixies, as he had a monocular kept close to his face masked by a balaclava, kept watch on those pixies from behind the magnification of those lens whilst the other eye kept closed, admiring their forms, their freedom, but more importantly, getting the impression he was actually the only one here as opposed to anyone else as it seemed that perhaps his entry was the only one in the forest... yeah... him... a member of one of the most elite special ops units in the entire military community, sent to capture FUCKING PIXIES. He occasionally on random moments looked around besides the pixies to make sure the team was close by, having a tactical jar around his belt just in case to capture those mofos, whilst remaining closely prone on the grassy knoll as his sight was unhindered besides a few trees but none obscured the direct line of sight at those pixies as they were widely spread out, but he was ready to sprint at a moment's notice, occasionally giving a quick glance up to the leaf-ridden skies where the trees dominate as he wanted to admire the view and all else everywhere around him for visual confirmation of the other two sent on this puerile errand. Still, his actions were inspired only through coordination and not random Leeroy Jenkins impulses.

Brandon Cole was a man who yearned for excitement in life. In fact, it was the promise of hunting dangerous supernatural targets which had originally convinced him to remain with VWAT in the first place. By and large the organization had lived up to that promise and Cole's missions were, in general, one of the few high points of his life. Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights. Pixies. Not werewolves or vampires or anything remotely interesting. He was hunting pixies. His only solace was that he did not need to shoulder this tedious assignment all by himself. Somewhere out there was a member of the freshly transferred Night Nine, likely staking out the oblivious pixies. Why the higher ups had not simply dropped them off together was beyond him considering they had next to no time to develop any kind of coordination.

Frowning beneath his mask, Brandon slowly reached back to draw one of the silver dust arrows from his quiver. Intel on pixies was lacking to say the least but he was banking on the general purifying properties of the precious metal to have more of an effect on them than simple tear gas. Pushing himself up into a crouched kneeling position, Brandon smoothly nocked the arrow and calculated the distance to his target. To the merrymaking pixies, his movement should have been undetectable, a shadow moving among shadows. However, to someone with the training of Night Nine's standards, Cole sudden change in position should have been noticeable. Roughly 100 yards to the base of the tree where the pixies were playing. Easy enough to cover that distance after loosing his shot. With practiced fluidity, Cole drew back his bow and let the arrow fly.

The majestic little creatures continued to flutter through the air. The arrow, however, caused them to fly directly upwards, startled by the noise and the metal flying out of it. Aside from a bit of mild discomfort from breathing in some of the dust, all they had to do was cough to rid themselves of pain. Being of magical origin instead of supernatural, pixies were very much unaffected by holy items. There was nothing about them that was inherently "impure", so the silver was of no use.

The pixies clicked and chirped in a language unknown to humans, trying to figure out what had happened. It had been many centuries since the last battles of the Fairy/Pixie Wars, and the tiny creatures were totally inexperienced with anything like battle. Aside from wrestling for sport, none had even seen fighting before. What someone could be doing by firing an arrow at them confused and frightened them. Unwilling to stick around, the group took off through the forest, staying in the upper branches of trees as they fluttered away.

(OOC) In three rounds, the pixies will have fled entirely. You have to catch up to them within that time or the mission will fail.

"Motherfuckers..." Zulu muttered under his breath as radio silence deemed him unable to contact Brandon for the duration. He had managed to catch sight of the arrows, and subsequently trailing along the origin, also the origination of such arrows to be the archer man who seemed to love picking on Aiden and the rest of N9 got to be on bad terms with him, not that Zulu cared, since he just wanted to get over what had happened on the helipad, it was not worth mention in debacle. Still, pixies. He was stuck hunting them, with next to no intel, for reasons unknown besides the fact they needed them for studies. PIXIES of all things, as if their very presence could even adversely effect anything on a large war-scale. But one thing is for certain, from hearsay and rumours, he didn't want this mission to fail, on account of the fact they HAD to catch up to a prick named Gary Stu.

Regardless, as the arrow had flew to his farthest left a distance away to not actually adhere any inconvenience to Zulu, and even landed on the tree trunk to Zulu's flank, far above overhead as it embedded there, dripping silver sparkles in its wake, which he found a bit too Twilight for his tastes as he caught sight of a blurry object moving within a diagonal trajectory loosed from the shadow. Zulu, already aiming his main weapon, the SCAR, decided to screw subtlety, because as far as the orders were, it would be to capture pixies. He didn't see an option of capturing such small creatures unscathed of any harm averted from their frail, fragile little bodies, but taking them alive was a bonus. Crackling a static over Brandon's radio was Zulu's voice spoken in a whisper too low to hear from the pixie position, "Try shooting the wings, Archer, command never said anything taking them back unharmed." As curt as it was in explanation, he aimed flipped the sight for ACOG scope to increase zoom, keeping the weapon barrel leveled across the fluttering pixies as his aim was unhindered by their erratic movements, keeping it to the central mass of their wings, pulling the trigger, the suppressed weapon fired out a round, speeding along the air in subsonic speeds easily enough to cover the distance, and going past the arrow velocity towards one of the pixies, at that wing to hit it right from the side to nail both wings, to see if that'd work, if bullets would still have an effect, and they were physically tangible, giving a quick glance around his vicinity though out of his scope and back to it in random intervals, keeping peeled as his senses heighten in awareness, or rather, he just noticed things more than usual. Damn pixies, fairies, whatever the Hell those bunch were.

Silver dust had no effect on these things. Good to know. Annoying, but good to know. With that option gone, the next measure would have to be a little more direct and from the sounds of it, the Night Nine operative was thinking the same thing. With the element of surprise gone, radio silence was no longer necessary and Brandon was free to respond to Zulu without hesitation. Clicking the earpiece under his tactical mask, the archer opened a line to the other soldier. "I gotcha," he said, drawing back an arrow tipped with a steel broad head. The little pests were heading for the forest. Considering the growing darkness, their small size, and the thick foliage of the forest it would be quite the task trying to snatch them all if they made it all the way in. Sharing Zulu's train of thought once again, Cole reminded himself that this was primarily a research mission to gather specimens. The more they acquired the better but they certainly didn't need them all.

With that in mind, Brandon loosed the titanium missile with a practiced finesse to pin a fleeing pixie to the trunk of a tree by the wings. No sooner had the arrow left his bow, another was being nocked and drawn back on the powerful weapon. Quickly growing more used to the movements of his prey, the assassin let the projectile fly without hesitation, looking to immobilize as many of the creatures as possible in the same manner as the first.

The first shot was fired, blasting straight through the wings of one of the creatures. Unable to fly, it plummeted to the ground, splattering across the dirt in a pile of blue limbs and creamy, white blood. The panic among the group grew, several of them bursting into tears at the sight of their friend's horrific death. They flew faster, gaining altitude to go above the tree tops and out of sight of the attackers.

One was not so lucky, an arrow lodging itself through its wings to pin it to the tree trunk just behind its comrades. It squealed and writhed as white blood ran down its back, hoping it could convey some sign of surrender and plea for mercy towards whatever monsters were there to kill them. The others were in too much of a hurry to try to help. Even if they tried, it would have been no use. The arrow was deeply embedded into the tree, the only way to free the other pixie being to tear them free of their own wings (a fate considered worse than death in their society). As another arrow struck through a branch in the upper area of the tree, the remaining ten tried their hardest to flee.

(One round down. You monsters.)

Pulling another arrow to full draw, Cole took aim at the fleeing pack of pixies. Unfortunately, their size and speed allowed them to quickly disappear over the tree line and into the depths of the forest beyond. Trying to chase them down would be a monumental order at this point and it was a task that Brandon had no intentions of undertaking at this point in the day. Thankfully, he and the Night Nine member had managed to recover some specimens before the rest of the pack fled. Easing back on his bow, Cole returned the arrow to his quiver and abandoned his shooting position in the foliage. The archer kept his pace at a light trot as he made his way over to where the still squirming pixie was pinned to the tree.

It was an odd, screeching thing to be sure with blue blood from its small wings flowing down its back. Cole filed the appearance of the blood away as a mental note for potential hunts in the future and procured one of the sample jars he'd been given for the assignment. Jar in one hand and lid in the other, the archer's hands moved with expert speed and skill to pry the arrow from the tree, dumping the creature into the container and sealing the lid without allowing it time to effectuate an escape.

Turning back to look at his partner on the assignment, Brandon raised the trapped creature overhead. "That settles that," he exclaimed in a bored tone.

OOC: My apologies for skipping things ahead but I do believe Zulu and I have successfully gathered some samples. We done here?

I suppose you are. Murderers.