20th April, 2075. 2000
@Hopeless, Bookworm, and Breeze
the trio makes their way to the pit as the last of the sun peaks above the Texas plains, red and angry. The road off Highway 60 is more of a gravel memory of where a road once stood, but it's well-traveled and rutted, the detritus of beer cans and poppers decorating the shoulder before the trees give way to a large opening. "We're here," Bookworm says of the wide open space, where some oil or gas well stood nearly a century ago. They get the kegs, ice, and trash bags situated quickly, and Breeze tastes each tap to make sure the CO2 mix is right. "Tastes like piss," he says, "So I guess we can call it good."
There are two fire pits handy, which the team keeps in mind as the twilight gives way to true night. Defense here will be tricky. The woods are thick and brambled, but luckily the underbrush is so thick that a person would have a hard time moving through it silently. Seeing anyone coming will be another matter, and the not-so-distant howl of coyote alerts the team to the fact that even crunching branches won't mean rival runners in the night. Seeing things from the ground level, Bookworm is convinced that the overwatch positions she pegged on her ARO are indeed probably the best places for her or rivals to set up if they wanted to get eyes on what was going on below. But now, two hours before the meet, things are deathly calm.
Breeze send the car around to the southern spot the team picked out for parking, and sets himself on top of a shipping container. <<@Team [Breeze] Going hot sim. You'll know where to find me if you need me.>>
