One down, one to go

Krieger's dead.

I've added that factoid to the MIST database.  The fight went about as everyone expected for the most part.  He sicced his goonsquad on the lot of us - the band, plus the werewolves who thought his regime was ass on wheels.  Kenny's first shot damn near took his jaw off, but...well, werewolves and regeneration.  Cindy had tweaked all our weapons but Kenny's with that silver trick of hers.  It was enough to keep the wolves we hit but didn't kill outright down for the count.

I...won't really write much on the fight itself past that.  It was a giant clusterfuck...and me and Hal damn near tossed caution to the wind when Krieger got a nasty hit in on Kenny.  But she just went full-on fuzzy and tore his everything out, then Lexi...damn, someone needs to get that girl a beer.  Not sure what she did, but she ended it.  Kennedy ended up finishing off Krieger when he refused to stand down.

That's that.  We've still got half our mission left, and it's going to be a bitch to complete with the meeting we were supposed to observe out the window.  I've got a couple of thoughts.  If it was just with the pack Alpha...we might be able to get Kenny to pull the meeting off.  I'll have to run that one by her when she's awake.  I'm not -sure- it would work...depends on how much our mole knows about other operatives.  One of the others might have a better idea.

When Cindy hasn't been glomped onto me, been working on that pet project of mine.  It's...coming.  I've had to do a metric shitton of reading, and gods only know where I can get the materials.  Dad might have some ideas if I can get ahold of him.  There's...the other option, but I don't need the others freaking out yet.  The other trick is how to arm said project, and have some thoughts on that.  I know in the meantime, once we're back at base, I'm picking up a bigger gun.  They can have their AR back, going to see if I can check out some model of LMG.  Going to need to get to lifting weights to carry the damn thing though.

Or for all I know, the magic voodoo shit in my blood will just make me stronger for no real reason other then the LOLz.  It's something I've come to expect, really.  The world is alot more screwed up then I ever really suspected, but you know what?  Wouldn't trade it.  Sure as hell beats being a register monkey at a shitty electronics shop in Brooklyn getting robbed every other week.

Closing this off.  Going to download a movie and relax before the shitstorm starts up again.  That old saw about 'no rest for the wicked' can eat it.