Malpensa Airport, Milan, Italy, late afternoon.
Midnight has just left the plane from the transfer flight together with the other "replacement pilot" who in fact belongs to the RAS when he receives a mail on his PDA. He is told that someone is waiting for him in a nearby parking garage, and where exactly that "someone" is waiting. Although he knows or at least is sure that nobody outside his team knows that secret mail address of his, he expects an ambush and hesitates to go until the other mouse says, "Come on, let's go, they won't wait for long." So he does, still preparing himself mentally for being trapped without a weapon.
In the garage which is outside the airport's security zone, at the location mentioned in the mail, he meets four mice dressed formally, three males and one female. They are standing in front of a white Fiat Ducato van parked with the front to the wall.
"Mr. Viscount," the female says, "also known as Midnight."
"The same," Midnight replies. "And you happen to be..."
"Friends," one of the males states.
"'Friends' can mean a lot, from real friendship to a lousy disguise for the opposite."
"'The Rangers sent us.' Is that sufficient as a password?" the same male asks.
"I'm still careful, but for now, I accept it. So why are you here, and why am I here?"
"Your equipment," another male mouse says. "You couldn't take much with you disguised as a commercial pilot. So we have to provide you with what you need right here." He hands Midnight a black leather briefcase which appears to be quite stuffed.
"Of course, you also need a transport to be more mobile on this mission," he adds and motions to the car parked next to the van, a black Lancia Delta Evoluzione. "Don't worry about the rumors that these cars are unreliable, it's overhauled thoroughly and equipped with a tuned rally engine. 500 hp, four wheel drive, it goes like heck and handles like heaven."
"That's all nice and all," Midnight says, "but I don't have a driver's license."
"You're carrying so many faked ID cards, passports, and such, so a faked license or two will certainly not be too much," the first male speaks and hands him the documents.
"What I mean is I've never driven a car. Besides, I'm more comfortable with two wheels, despite never having ridden a motorcycle either."
"You mean you could rather get used to riding a motorcycle than to driving an automobile?" the female asks, and Midnight nods.
"Then have a look at this." She opens the van's rear doors. In the back of the Ducato is a... Ducati. A black Ducati Monster 900 held upright by straps. The straps are removed, a ramp is put in place, and the bike is pushed out of the van. Midnight receives another set of licenses and the keys. "Is this one okay for you, or are you more into BMW boxers?"
"Hey, having a German origin doesn't mean preferring German bikes. Yes, it's perfectly okay for me."
"Start it up and see if it suits you. You may still give it back if it doesn't."
Midnight swings himself onto the motorcycle, inserts the key, and starts up the engine. The deep thunder of the Desmo V-2 mill reverberates in the garage. Technically, he knows how to handle it, where gas, brakes, clutch, and shifting are, but he has no practice. But there's no way back. He puts in the first gear and rides all the way through the garage, turns, and comes back, this time moving a bit faster.
"I think my Italian is improving," he jokes, "for I understand this bike better and better." He turns around again, lets the bike roll slowly, stands up on the footrests, and cranks up the throttle, producing a burnout on the concrete floor. He sits down, speeds down the way, and performs a sliding U-turn, proving that he can estimate how the bike will react in which situation. As he returns again, he thinks about trying a stoppie for a moment, but he doesn't do one.
"You like it, huh?" the female asks.
"Definitely," Midnight responds.
"Fabio, register the bike on his name. It's his now."
One of the male mice sits down in the van, takes a laptop computer and starts to click and type away. "Online registration," he says. "Not quite legal, but no-one actually cares. Welcome to 21st century's Italy."
"You arrived early," the female speaks on, "since you came here by jet plane. You're not expected before tomorrow, so you might use the rest of the day to get familiar with the bike. Your hotels are booked, one here in Milan for tonight, one in Rome for as long as you need. You will find a road map and check-in cards in the briefcase. Your baggage will be taken care of."
Soon after, the group dissolves. Fabio takes the van and brings the other fake pilot to the local RAS headquarters, and the other three mice take the Lancia and follow Midnight who, dressed in black leather and wearing a matching black helmet now, rides the black Ducati through Milan and the surrounding countryside. When he arrives at his hotel, it is already dark, because he insisted in practicing in the darkness, sometimes even with the headlight turned off.
Midnight
_________________ Me and my fursona
RRC+ R- P--@ TH(A+;I;X;Hu!;Mu;My+;R!;P;Su) ME-- Ix! CR>+ Cc++d+g+++m+z+f++t+fc+nrc- Ec+d@g++m-f@ D-> M++ Zm++ GH+ L Ge(61%) Pc++d-@o(Rat Capone)--- SSs(1>2)d(12)
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