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CHARACTERS: Hache Batteux
WHAT: A Medical Supply Drop
WHEN: Sunday, January 25th, 2026.
WHERE: Reykjanesbær
WARNINGS: None
A lot of people wonder how Hache pulls off the things he does on Espionage. He's not offended. He usually tells them that he puts his best foot forward and leads with a smile. A smile can get you far.
His smile is chattering as he steps into the biting night air, steering the palette of medical supplies down the Blackbird's landing ramp. "I thought you were supposed to have twenty-four hour sunlight here," he half-laughs, nodding to the greeting party waiting for him on the tarmac; three of Reykjanesbaer's finest, it seems. Tall. Broad. A clear show of force.
"...that's in Summer," the man in front replies, nonplussed and clearly unamused. They had to wait for a large enough gap in the local airport's flight schedule to pull off this drop, and none of the locals seem thrilled to be out on an airstrip at two am.
"Oh." Hache nods, a little embarassed. More so as he stumbles slightly with the boxes and the other two men have to step forward to rescue him. He at least murmurs a quiet 'thanks' as they take over the work and he follows along in their wake.
"There should be enough there to last you for a few months, hopefully," he notes, falling into step behind the only one who's spoken to him so far, and only gets a nod in response. "Our supply routes are doing well right now. So maybe I'll be making another drop in Summer, hm?" Another nod.
His smile is chattering and his best foot is starting to freeze by the time they reach an unmarked van, and Hache climbs inside alongside the supplies, protocol demanding he see the drop all the way through to its intended target.
Leaning against one of the walls, he looks out of the van's back window. "Interesting housing… is it military?" He asks, watching regimented blocks slide by in the streetlights, occasional hangars and isolated offices popping up.
"Yeah, it's--" One of the men starts, but is cut off by his companions.
Hache just nods. "Cool."
Minutes drift by and the motion of the curves and corners lulls him into a dreamy kind of peace.
Which is why his heart almost jumps into his throat when they reach their destination, the backdoors open, and a HDroid leans in, strong synthetic arms reaching out.
Hache springs backwards, shoes scrambling across the van floor and panic sending his hands flying to anything but his sidearm. But a hand lands on his shoulder and one of his escort is nodding down at him.
"It's safe," he says, reassuring but resolute.
"It's safe?!" Hache responds, holding back some particularly colourful expletives as he watches the Droid pull the supplies out of the van and steady them, a second HDroid coming to assist in escorting them away.
Every question Hache has is met with a solid, stone wall, even as he meets with Bishop's contact. Rattled with adrenalin and embarrassment, he watches wide-eyed as more HDroids file in and out of buildings around them, growing increasingly frustrated as everything he thinks to ask is shot down.
Chastened as he realises he won't be getting any answers and they'll probably be remembering him as the French kid who almost pissed himself in the back of one of their vans, Hache at least shores up his smile enough to ask if his escort can swing by a convenience store on the way back to the airstrip. A break from rations, bribes to get out of chores, needing caffeine before he gets back into the cockpit.
So he at least has a can of coke to ease him through coming down off an adrenalin high when he settles back into the pilot seat an hour later. Some treats to pass around and hopefully cheer people up a little. Plenty of unanswered questions to pass along to Bishop. Confirmation that he carried out the drop successfully.
…and news that he deployed a few of his usual spies.
WHAT: A Medical Supply Drop
WHEN: Sunday, January 25th, 2026.
WHERE: Reykjanesbær
WARNINGS: None
A lot of people wonder how Hache pulls off the things he does on Espionage. He's not offended. He usually tells them that he puts his best foot forward and leads with a smile. A smile can get you far.
His smile is chattering as he steps into the biting night air, steering the palette of medical supplies down the Blackbird's landing ramp. "I thought you were supposed to have twenty-four hour sunlight here," he half-laughs, nodding to the greeting party waiting for him on the tarmac; three of Reykjanesbaer's finest, it seems. Tall. Broad. A clear show of force.
"...that's in Summer," the man in front replies, nonplussed and clearly unamused. They had to wait for a large enough gap in the local airport's flight schedule to pull off this drop, and none of the locals seem thrilled to be out on an airstrip at two am.
"Oh." Hache nods, a little embarassed. More so as he stumbles slightly with the boxes and the other two men have to step forward to rescue him. He at least murmurs a quiet 'thanks' as they take over the work and he follows along in their wake.
"There should be enough there to last you for a few months, hopefully," he notes, falling into step behind the only one who's spoken to him so far, and only gets a nod in response. "Our supply routes are doing well right now. So maybe I'll be making another drop in Summer, hm?" Another nod.
His smile is chattering and his best foot is starting to freeze by the time they reach an unmarked van, and Hache climbs inside alongside the supplies, protocol demanding he see the drop all the way through to its intended target.
Leaning against one of the walls, he looks out of the van's back window. "Interesting housing… is it military?" He asks, watching regimented blocks slide by in the streetlights, occasional hangars and isolated offices popping up.
"Yeah, it's--" One of the men starts, but is cut off by his companions.
Hache just nods. "Cool."
Minutes drift by and the motion of the curves and corners lulls him into a dreamy kind of peace.
Which is why his heart almost jumps into his throat when they reach their destination, the backdoors open, and a HDroid leans in, strong synthetic arms reaching out.
Hache springs backwards, shoes scrambling across the van floor and panic sending his hands flying to anything but his sidearm. But a hand lands on his shoulder and one of his escort is nodding down at him.
"It's safe," he says, reassuring but resolute.
"It's safe?!" Hache responds, holding back some particularly colourful expletives as he watches the Droid pull the supplies out of the van and steady them, a second HDroid coming to assist in escorting them away.
Every question Hache has is met with a solid, stone wall, even as he meets with Bishop's contact. Rattled with adrenalin and embarrassment, he watches wide-eyed as more HDroids file in and out of buildings around them, growing increasingly frustrated as everything he thinks to ask is shot down.
Chastened as he realises he won't be getting any answers and they'll probably be remembering him as the French kid who almost pissed himself in the back of one of their vans, Hache at least shores up his smile enough to ask if his escort can swing by a convenience store on the way back to the airstrip. A break from rations, bribes to get out of chores, needing caffeine before he gets back into the cockpit.
So he at least has a can of coke to ease him through coming down off an adrenalin high when he settles back into the pilot seat an hour later. Some treats to pass around and hopefully cheer people up a little. Plenty of unanswered questions to pass along to Bishop. Confirmation that he carried out the drop successfully.
…and news that he deployed a few of his usual spies.
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