Cain wondered quietly in his mind what their next plan was. The first one had gone to hell, and it was only a matter of time until they would be caught if they hid. Luckily for both of them, Chance had given an all clear. He took the crate in one hand and gripped Chances' hand with the other, his grip tight and firm.<br/><br/>It took only a moment before Alexi oriented himself in the right direction.<br/><br/>"Da. The docks are a good place. Let's go." They quickly ran off in the opposite direction, until they reached the icy shore. Alexi immediately strafed towards a lonely jeep in the parking lot, and immediately smashed its driver-side window out with his fist. Blood started to dye the scattered plots of snow as Cain worked feverishly to jump-start the vehicle. He tossed the crate in the back, and immediately reached into the fusebox, ripping out the plastic cover and pulling out a brown and red wire.<br/><br/>"Cain, I need you to take the pistol from my back, and cover me while I get this thing started." He ripped both wires apart, and crossed them, gently tapping the exposed ends, creating a spark and a low rumble of the engine, finally turning over after 5 or 6 strikes. At that point, he twisted the wires and opened the driver-side door.  "My other contact can wait until this heat dies down. For now, We'll head back and get ourselves cleaned up..."<br/><br/>==================<br/><br/>Alexi awoke with a start as the wind whipped outside. It had been a few days since that incident, and he had been keeping tabs on the world. There was a "Militia" Assault in Alaska, near the Canadian border. He knew his friends were coming. He sat up and checked the end table next to the couch he had slept on. His Vodka was still there, cold and refreshing to the lips as he tipped the last contents of the bottle down his throat, finishing it in 2 exaggerated Gulps. He chuckled to himself as he finally remembered what had happened the night before. He was excessively drunk, and finished their pet project in the basement that night.  He was too slurred to turn it on, so he saved it till this morning. "Chance...? Wake up! Its time to get up, kid." He had a great feeling about today, and his body was in agreement, aside from the bruises on his chest and the laceration on his left hand. He winced and tightened a fresh bandage around it.<br/><br/>"Go to the basement and retrieve the sniper rifle, along with all the ammo and the camouflage paint. Its time for some target practice..."