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"Please stay out of way," Igov said, still using a perfectly neutral tone. "This mission is of great importance to strategic security."

"Ah, yes. Resource gathering. At the depot where the government is transporting a load of radioactive fuels which may or may not be a salvaged alien spacecraft?"

Igov's biological eye twitched. Yoshi's talent for personally gathering perfect intelligence was well-known, but it still irked the General, who most often faced losses due to poor tactical intel.

"Yes. Depot is heavily defended, but no units on standby to reinforce transport. Quick strike should take transport by surprise." Igov lowered his head slightly to hold it under Yoshi's umbrella, and took a cigarette from his pocket and placed it in his mouth.

"Actually, that's not completely accurate," Yoshi said, watching as Igov generated a sudden spark of electricity from his right index finger that lit the end of his cigarette. "The Department of Abnormal Phenomenae Containment will be on standby to intercept any threats to the shipment."

Yoshi forced himself to keep from smirking as Igov cursed in Russian, spitting out the cigarette before he could even take a puff.

"Is not... It is not their jurisdiction," Igov protested, managing to find the right word in his less-than-perfect Japanese vocabulary.

"True. And I'm certain lots of people are making quite a fuss over it, too. But alas, wiser heads prevailed, and they now stand between you and your goal, per the norm." The diminutive genius watched as the taller man pulled his head up again, exposing it to the rain. "Such a strange and lucky group, to persevere in every battle! Robots, androids, cyborgs, clones, super-soldiers, mutants; all have proven inadequate in combat with them. Why, it begins to seem like they are the sole enemies we cannot hope to defeat! And with so many other powerful and strange things in this world!"

Igov looked up into the pouring sky, ignoring the brief sizzling noise as his cigarette was extinguished from the constant downpour striking the ground where it lay. "Battle one cannot win, one must avoid." He lowered his head. "Forces strike before transport reach depot, take shipment and leave." Not striking against the depot defenses was dangerous, he knew, as that would leave the garrison there able to track and assault his forces while they worked to capture the shipment. The prospect of being assaulted by the forces of the DAPC, however, was much, much more horrifying.

Millennium, Chapter 1