Double post, ignore.

"Insiditor MK III. Query, Hostage, Bounty, or nonessential?"

Taleste sat down. She was out of immediate danger of being trampled or shot in the face, but she was still on edge, for she was still stuck in a small aircraft with a dangerous...thing. Her heart was still pounding. She had to calm down. She took several deep breaths, before answering his question. "Uhh...Hostage? Bounty? I don't really care. I just want to live."

She watched him hanging off the entrane ramp. He started talking about some child called 'Danny'. It was after a while that she realized that he was talking to Danny, but there was nobody there. This did not help her fears. "Oh god," she mumbled to herself, "It's completely mad." Her grip tightened onto the nearest ridge or pipe and she shrunk into the wall. The sooner they landed, the sooner she could get away from this...this monster, and go back home. She'd never Marcy District again. That's provided she's not strangled to death for bearing resemblance to some old forgotten wife or something by this freak of science first, though.

She ran and she ran, and yet it seemed as if she was holding still, maybe even losing ground compared to her target. Impossible. Or at least it should have been. Bines was somehow keeping up, the gravity helped, as they were both headed in the same direction; down the stairwell. Tess didn't even bother calling out for Jack to stop. It would be wasted breath, and she needed all of the breath she could get.

The chase drug on, taking them through a poorly maintained corridor. The dancing and inconsistent lighting played hell with her vision, until the helmet's visual enhancement layer kicked in. Edges of all the objects appeared as thin yellow lines, and her target, in red. The hallway was long and crowded with various objects. Everything from boxes to barrels full of trash attempted to spoil their day. However, they were catching up. She undid the clasp on her stunner's holster in anticipation.

It turned out to be premature though. An intersection of the hallway yielded a large menagerie of animals, chickens and roosters to name a few. They were running about in a frenzy, stirred up by the criminal's passing. Tess collided head on with a few without breaking stride. Solid thumps reverberated up and down her legs. She herd Bines gasp as he stumbled and fell on something. Though a familiar thump caught her attention more. Further down the corridor lay a woman, from her clothes it was obvious she lived here. Red blood spurted rhythmically from her neck wound.

That caused Tesla to pause for a moment. Not due to the gruesome nature of the wound, but because of the opportunity. Bines was slowing her down, he was going to get hurt if he continued, and there were other important things that needed to be taken care of. "Bines, stabilize this civvy and rendezvous with Bravo, get out of here. I'm going to get Jack." There was no argument, in the middle of an operation, there was never time for one. Either you followed your orders, or team mates could die. Though by the look on his face, he made his disapproval clear. "Confirmed." She took off her helmet and tossed it to him. "Don't worry, I'll get him." She winked, and was off like a rocket, ponytail streaming behind her.

Without the helmet, she was considerably more exposed. The head contained the command center of the whole body, and as such was the most vulnerable spot in the body. However, she didn't intend to slow down enough for anyone to get a chance. She barreled through a small gaggle of sour smelling locals, knocking them from their feet, and paused for a split second at a junction, before spotting her quarry. Taking off down the corridor, she speed vaulted a moldy wooden box as the whole building shook, almost making her lose her balance. I didn't think I'd landed quite that hard.

"CP to all units. We're seeing debris from an explosive device that's been set off on the thirtieth floor. Confirm?"

"Falcon to CP, thirty first floor, confirmed. This building is coming down."

"CP to all aerial units in the vicinity, prep to evacuate all BESC personnel. All active units, proceed to clear an LZ and activate beacons. Say confirm."

"Fox Two confirm."
"Fox Three and Six, Alfa, already clear."
"Bravo confirm."

His back bobbed up and down, she was so close to winning, she could already feel the satisfaction of 8 million volts of electricity flooding his body. On the other hand, she would have a lot to answer for if the building came down with her inside. Though she wouldn't be answering anyone after that.
Fuck that, I'm in this to the end.

"CP to Fox one, confirm?"

There was one option, get Jack. The very real possibility of dying was just an encouragement to get the job down. Redoubling her efforts, she sprinted down the hallway. Even incoming fire from behind her couldn't distract her, it simply earned a few rounds from the Knocker, before she dropped it for weighing her down. Whoever was chasing her would hopefully either stop to grab the valuable weapon, or trip on it.

"Fox one, respond."

The chase eventually led to a central housing area, ringed by apartments and, unfortunately, an almost impenetrable sea of people. She could try to barrel through and risk getting shot in her very exposed cranium...or. She reached to her belt, pulling out four small cylinders. Last year, these gadgets had shown up in the crowd control lockers. The year before they had become every SRTU member's best friends. Crowd control in a nice, tidy package. Sprinting headlong into the crowd, she tossed the cylinders as accurately as possible, nevertheless, one tumbled over the edge of the walkway. Thankfully, the other three landed, planted, and incapacitated nearly half of the civvys on the gantry. Unfortunately, Jack was off in the distance, running like a mad man. Someone ate his wheaties.

She continued the chase, the pistol stunner now in her hand as she closed in. Left and right she zapped anyone who got too close, she didn't have time for delays. Wait, I need to think for a second. He has to have some plan to get off of this soon to be pile of debris. And this area would be a great place to do it. Every level of the staircase had a landing pad. In various states of disrepair, but all useable. Hes getting a ride from someone.

As of yet, she hadn't been able to close the gap. But an idea suddenly sparked. Tess was making no ground going head to head in a race. So she'd have to cheat a bit. As they passed the landing gantry on their level, she stopped completely, watching Jack continue to run down the spiral. The next floor's landing area was directly below where she was now, so either hed have to come back up, or keep going.

"CP to Fox one, respond immediately!"

Grabbing the rail, she hoisted herself over it and dangled off the side, rail in both hands. Jack was almost to the second landing area, she'd have to make this fast. But hell, that was a longer drop than she expected. A veritable chasm stretched beneath her armored legs, the walkway seemed narrow, a hard target to hit. Commit completely or fail. She made up her mind, swung, and let go.

Everyone tells you how the height is terrifying, almost no one tells you how exhilarating the fall is. Its pure adrenaline, the good stuff. IT was over so fast though, the shock reverberated through her armor, but the rest dispersed as she rolled with it. She came to her feet just in time to see Jack's panting face come into view, so close, there would be no was she missed. Tess raised her PDP and lined up the iron sights. "Get on the ground, NOW!" Her finger tensed on the trigger, she'd had enough.

"CP to Fox one, get out now! You have no support and the building is coming down. Say confirm!"

As narrated by Gerard Butler:

Outside the Project tower; the Dart containing Tali, DI Howard and the two guards was controlling the operation in was becoming increasingly agitated. BESC HQ had begun calling it's subservient systems back to the fold and Taliga's defenses were gradually crumbling. However that was the least of their worries as the situation outside had taken a turn for the worst. A huge variety of emergency vehicles had crashed onto the scene, a crescendo of black and orange that swarmed about the tower like bees. They mingled with the stampede of ramshackle vessels that were either trying to leave the tower or trying to fight the enforcers that had been sent in after Jack. Locals from neighboring towers had unleashed a relentless pattern of fire at BESC, even managing to hit vital areas and sending vehicles spiraling to the ground for an emergency landing. Then there was the explosion.

Without warning it ripped through the entire thirtieth floor, sending a huge shock wave before it which buffeted the Dart some ten floors up. Instantly, Tali saw the Tower shiver before shrinking one hundred metres, crushing the thirtieth floor under a billion tonnes of building material. This was the Project's in built failsafe taking effect, but the measures were outdated and didn't take hold effectively. A long and plaintive wail emitted from the Project as it began the slow process of shaking itself apart. Several walkways fell away from the Tower, sending dozens of people flailing towards the ground a long way down. Tali swore loudly. "Give me a sitrep, what just happened!" Howard's hands were a blur on the various interfaces as he tried to find eyes on the occurrence. "Explosives, thirtieth floor. The Project's overall integrity is down 50%. Initiating their onboard evacuation program." Tali opened another commlink to HQ. "I need four GravStab platforms here yesterday!" Barely had Tali shelved that connection before Overseer Ngoni pinged online.

"What the hell is going on Tali, and why are you still on-scene? I told you..."

"Overseer, there's been an explosion. The tower looks like it's ready to come down."

"Shit. I'm pulling the plug, all units are to evacuate as per protocol."

"Negative Overseer, Jack is still inside and..."

"This is not your responsibility anymore! Don't you see, he wants this. He probably arranged to crash here just so he could put our reputation at risk. Now it looks like we fucking blew this tower up, not him!"

"We'll look even worse if we don't bring this bastard in!"

"He'll be making for a way out, monitor all traffic and notify me when he tries it on."

"Overseer, there are thousands of craft in the vicinity. His craft could already be here and we'd have no idea!"

"Well you'd better work something out hadn't you? This is your balls up, sort it out. I'm going to release a statement to the media to try and calm things down."

The line went dead, Tali pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her eyes vigorously. A cheerful sound announced that BESC HQ had assumed direct control and blocked their ship out of all proceedings except monitoring. They had access to over a thousand cameras with angles covering every square inch of the Tower. A frantic evacuation was in progress. The exodus of fleeing junks were like a windswept heap of leaves falling from a tree; ships were colliding in mid-air, smashing into BESC enforcer cars as they desperately tried to establish an air cordon. Hordes of News vehicles, kitted out with a detachment of camera drones had arrived on scene and were filming from a distance. Grinding her teeth, Tali reopened a commlink with that Mercenary craft from before. Big Brother was it? "Dart401 calling Big Brother. What is your status? I want Jack and i want him now."

*

If you were snooty, you could say that it was Jack's superior diet and subsequently his solid frame that helped him barge a path through the throngs of badly fed, scummy immigrants that you tended to find in the Projects. More likely a reason is the fact that Jack was wired up to snapping point and quite possibly couldn't accept anything other than escaping the evil that seemed to be inside his own head and having the implant removed. He heard shouting behind him but took no notice, he stole looks back but remembered nothing of what he saw. Suddenly a voice was in his ear, it was his father. "Jack, they're scanning ships to find out where the team are, you need to hurry up. Head for Gantry 5 on the next level down, it's crowded so make sure you get in the right vehicle. They'll shout out to you, for fuck sake don't do anything stupid. We need that Codex. Jack's mouth opened and a faint gagging sound emitted, he was trying to say 'Ok' but the words clung to his throat like wet paper, choking him. Thegn the Elder signed off, and Jack was on his own again.

He increased his pace, shoving old women and young children out of his path. He groped his body and holsters for his dual pistols. They were missing; either fallen from his hands or picked from his pockets by plucky beggars. There was a sudden gap in the herd, Jack used this opportunity to look up and his dull mind managed to read the large white stenciled 'Gantry 5' on the wall. At that moment, an unmasked BESC agent landed heavily on the deck just a few meters away, directly in front of him. Time slowed down even more, Jack was looking down the barrel of her gun. Just then, a large group of men and women armed with sticks and knives burst out of the Gantry entrance and charged towards them. He found himself getting beared down on by a skinny motherfucker.

Using his own weight against him, Jack grabbed the man by the sleeve of his jacket and threw him past, causing him to flip over the gunwale and sail off the side of the walkway. The screams echoed in Jack's ears. The BESC agent was under attack, this was Jack's chance. He threw himself forward, giving it the last push his bruised mind could afford. He passed through the Gantry entrance and was beheld with a terrible sight. Hundreds of vessels of all sizes were jostling for space on the various platforms. Families and business were stuffing their belongings into the cabins and shoving their way out of the wide gap in the side of the Tower. Still running, Jack's brain worked overtime, studying every craft in turn before his eyes finally rested on his ride out of there. A black mini-van design, the sliding doors were open and two armed men were pushing hysterical hangers on away from the floating craft's skirt. Jack knew what he had to do, his legs powered off as he made a bee-line for his salvation.

Amazing..

That was the only thing that was going through Grak’s mind as he watched the battle. He was led to believe that this would be a massacre when first contact was made. How wrong his mind had been, though. These Projects barbarians may be crude, uncivilized, and dirty, but they were bloody brave little gits, that much was certain. Well, most of them. From Grak’s position near the top of another tower that overlooked the tower being used for target practice by a BESC gunship, he could see everything that was happening perfectly. The throngs of people, filled with panic, fleeing in all directions. The blood crazed warriors, firing their small arms at that impenetrable gunship. But that wasn’t the main thing that Grak was interested in. The militia fighting was but a side show to the true objective of BESC. That’s what Grak was about to find out, anyway.

“Grak,” Raz begin from beside his brother by birth,”Look!” The Tindrel shoved a thin finger in the direction of the tower. Grak subconsciously calculated that he was pointing at the thirtieth floor or so, give or take ten. Grak maneuvered the binoculars he had been handed towards that area, looking for what Raz was pointing at. Raz must have remotely ordered the binoculars to show Grak what he was looking for, because the outline of a BESC enforcer and a man appeared in red.”Kira.” Grak spoke.”Yes, sir?” A female voice came from a metal gauntlet on Grak’s left arm.”Link your systems to these binoculars. Who am I looking at?” Grak asked impatiently.”One moment, please, I’ll check the Extranet.” It only took the mind a moment to find the information Grak was looking for.”Female is Artesa Jou, member of the SRTU. Cannot locate more information without compromising BESC servers, which is impossible from this location. Male is Jack Thegn, wanted by BESC. Further information becomes sketchy beyond that.” Kira spoke quickly and efficiently.”Jack Thegn..” Grak couldn’t help but gasp a little. Jack was one of the most infamous criminals in Babylon. He is the embodiment of success in Babylon’s underbelly. If Grak could somehow get connections with a man like that..

Then there was a massive explosion. Grak watched as the tower shook and began to fall, and could feel the affects, even from the other tower. It was a sight to behold, for sure. But Grak didn’t have time to behold it for long. He had an agenda to fulfill.

Grak handed the binoculars to Raz. He looked down at the device on his arm. Grak lightly tapped the metal surface, and a holographic keyboard appeared, glowing a bright orange. He began to type commands rapidly.”Kira, contact Hoplite Minds one through twenty-five for me.” Raz looked perplexed.”But sir, you told them there weren’t-“ Grak cut Raz off.”I know what I said! I didn’t trust these fools with so many Hoplites. I had the Minds installed in case things went south and I needed these suits. Do you know how hard it is to find a machine that old and restore it?” Grak complained.”Yes, I do. We were getting triple that from these militiamen-“ Grak cut his brother off. Again.”Enough. That question was rhetorical.” A second holographic screen branched out from the original. The screen showed the status of all twenty-five Hoplites.A hand full of the mechs had apparently made their way inside the Projects tower that was the center of the action. Only one was on the same floor as Thegn, and Grak judged that it wouldn’t reach him in time to make contact. So, Grak decided to make sure he’d escape.

”Hoplite fourteen, respond.” It took the mind only a moment to respond.”Yes, sir?” It asked in a deep, monotone voice.”Eliminate your driver and take control.” There was a horrifying screech before the Mind spoke again.”Done.” Grak smiled. Machines were so very loyal.”There’s going to be a laser pointing into the crowd. I want you to move towards it.” Grak commanded, and one of his Chirix brothers painted the location with a laser.”Acknowledged. Laser spotted.” The Mind responded, turning towards around in circles until it spotted the marker.”Fire into that crowd. Maximum casualties.” There was a moment’s pause.”Why?” The Mind asked. Alright, so they’re not perfect, Grak thought.”I need you to get the attention of all those people, especially that BESC officer in the crowd. Avoid killing her, if possible. I don’t need BESC trying to find me. Just get their attention and retreat to the nearest exit on my order. Understood?” Grak was tensed up while he waited for the Mind to respond.”Acknowledged, beginning suppression fire.”

**************************

The old naval mech stomped towards the mass of Projects citizens attacking the BESC officer. It raised its quad-linked heavy machine guns, and opened fire into the masses. To say that things were bloody was the understatement of the century. The Mind, however, was not following its commands to the letter. It was aiming as best it could to hit the legs of the throngs of people. Yes, people would die, the Hoplite knew that. But it couldn’t bring itself to kill them all. Self preservation was the Hoplites top priority, however. The many people who turned their weapons on it were not given mercy. The small arms fire didn’t do much to the heavy armor of the suit, however the integrity wouldn’t hold out forever. The Mind began to wonder if Grak had planned on it being sacrificed.

“This is Grak to Hoplites one through thirteen, fifteen through twenty five. Make your way towards the tracking beacon that has just been activated. Board that ship and await my arrival.”

Yes, it did seem as if that was what Grak had planned. The Mind felt a very organic feeling at that moment. Despair, perhaps. Betrayal. Whatever the feeling was, the Mind pushed it aside. If it was to be terminated, then it would be terminated doing its job.

**************************

Grak and his five brothers began the move towards the pick up point. Grak had arranged for the Mind of his ship, The Relentless, to pick them up at a gantry not too far from Grak’s position. The Relentless would then move to the tower that was falling and pick up the Hoplites that had foolishly been guided there.”Oh.” Grak said as they jogged.”I almost forgot.” Grak activated the hologram again.”All Hoplites, eliminate your drivers. Drop the corpses off too, If you can.”

The ceiling was rumbling.
That couldn't be good.
Re dove into a roll to avoid a piece of falling debris.
Yup. Not good.

"You better tell me what's going on Jey, or you'll have hell to pay," he commed.
"Explosion," came the frantic reply. There was a faint tapping, then, "It looks like BESC did it, but they're not that stupid."
"Are there any spare agents that can pick me up?"
"Let's see... Try the twenty seventh floor. A red Core||50 Hunter. Y'know that model, right?"

Re grunted an affirmation, then remembered that he was on comms, and spoke one, sidestepping a piece of concrete, receiving a few cuts from the shrapnel. He checked a HUD projected in his vision by an implant, finding he was at the twenty eighth floor. Good. He'd just have to find the floCRASH! A particularly heavy chunk of concrete smashed from the ceiling through the floor. It was an opening, at least. He dropped through the hole and cracked his left shoulder on a bad landing. He ignored the pain and pushed through the crowd. He somehow managed to get to the exit onto the landing pad. "Delta One Theta!" Re yelled to a man, who nodded in response, and- just as Jey had said- a Hunter hovercraft was over on the edge of the pad. Before he could get to it, though, a man tried to push past him into the car. Re punched the man in the face and threw himself into the back of the car. He gave the driver another confirmation code- Kappa Six Psi- and they sped off, the rest of the building still crumbling.

Ignore.

Tesla knew what was going to happen, Jack had that wide eyed look. He was going to run for it. She was ready. The second he made to move, her aim would shift to the legs and drop the speedy bastard. She'd punch him in the face, cuff him, drag him to the landing pad and pop a beacon. Her job would be done and they could get off of this soon to be pile of rubble.

There was one variable that she hadn't taken into account however, the occupants of previously mentioned building. They didn't like BESC much, and fortunately for Jack, had no qualms attempting to take down an armed SRTU member with nothing more than knives and other melee weapons. Her pistol swung around to confront the biggest threat, a meaty woman wielding a rusty machete. Maybe she could scare them. She leveled her gun at her," STO-" The first swing skidded off of her right forearm plate, Tess brought it up just in time to avoid getting brained. The second swing was pushed away by an open hand slap, an elbow followed shortly after, to the face. The woman hit the ground at the same time as Tesla's pistol. That didn't work quite as planned. Through the crowd she saw Jack throw a man over the rail. She was about to lose her chance.

The moment her eyes flicked to the gun on the ground, a screaming teenager flew out of nowhere, cinder block raised high. Thank the skies these aren't trained combatants. She grabbed the boy's outstretched arms and went to the ground, rolling backwards. Her legs planted firmly on his hips and he went up and over, landing several feet behind her. It was just about then that the thunder started.

Suddenly, people started to fall over sideways, blood and chunks of flesh flying all directions. Training kicked in, and she lay flat to the ground, listening closely. Nine o'clock, two yards. Closest cover is...there. She was up in a flash, face covered in blood and other unspeakable things. Left and right people toppled, but the only thing that had her focus was the concrete divider that was a few meters away. A man got in her way, one of the few still focusing on killing her. She grabbed his wrist, pulled him down, and rolled right over him. He seemed surprised to get away scratch free, until his legs were blown out from under him. The sound was deafening.

Somehow, amidst the carnage, she had managed to find and return her pistol to her holster, even more surprisingly she had made it to cover without dying. Jack was gone though. "Fuck!" She screamed to no one in particular. One job, he had been right there. I should have just pulled the trigger and plugged his ass. There was still hope though, the doors to the gantry were right there.

After resolving to a painful and violent death, she dashed the concrete and sprinted to the hangar. It was jam packed with residents. Children, men, women, armed and unarmed. She heard a chirp in her head, her attention was pulled to a particular part of the scene. Jack. The black van was already lifting away, enforcers pulling the man bodily into the vehicle. More in frustration than any actual hope, her pistol appeared in her hand, and she emptied all ten rounds into the bulkhead of the vehicle. To no avail of course.

The vehicle rose out of sight.

Then Tesla became aware of the silence that even her pumping blood couldn't mask. Her head chirped, again and again and again. Red outlines appeared everywhere. She slowly turned, scanning the crowd. Im in a lot of trouble. Slowly, she reached behind her back, thumbing the button on a small grey cylinder, it flashed red in response, then began strobing intense IR at 60 times a minute. At the same time, it broadcast a simple text message to every single wireless receiver in the area: BESC ID: SRTU18420 IMMEDIATE EXTRACTION REQUIRED. 36°52'36.55"N 119°46'43.76"W

The mech sauntered up to the door, multiple barrels spinning as it mowed down figures in the corridor. She barely had enough time to duck behind a burnt out, old model family sedan before all hell broke loose. Three extra mags and nowhere to go. If it was easy it would be someone elses job. Lead, fire, and a smile was what her assailants were met with. Easy wasn't in her vocabulary.

Jack was on the home stretch now. Bullets flew all around him, people around him scythed like blades of grass before a mowing droid. Jack assumed the gunship was back on his trail somehow; maybe it had forced its way in and like an angry wasp, was unleashing natural fury on those around it. In the periphery on his vision Jack made out a swarm of refugees clambering over a sky-bus as it readied for takeoff. Heaped up like a stack of mussel shells, the bus spun out of control and dropped below the gantry, engines whining unwillingly. Another craft screamed over Jack's head, scorching the back of his neck. It made it out of the Tower's exit hole at a blistering rate but collided head on with a BESC GravStab as it floated past, on it's way to one of the Tower's corners. Some people had given up trying to find a seat and were instead huddling together on the ground, forlorn looks staring up at Jack as he smashed through on his mission to the other end of the Gantry. A man pushing a cart piled high with blankets and belongings cut him up but Jack was past stopping. Using his weight, he pushed the cart out of the way and carried on.

The four heavies that were brutally dissuading people from approaching the mini-van spotted him when he was about fifty meters out and two promptly set out to meet him, shotguns used as batons with liberality. They had been instructed to grab Jack so that he wouldn't fall off the Gantry, and that is what they did. Jack looked in no mood to co-operate so they each grabbed him under an arm and lifted him off the ground as they raced back to the mini-van. Jack's legs still spun comically (although at an unbelievable speed) in mid-air. The two henchmen left to guard the craft covered their approach with a hail of fire into the encroaching crowd. The man holding Jack's right arm was shot and went down like a sack of bricks; all three collapsed in a heap some ten yards from the van as it began champing at the bit like a thoroughbred. Pulling him to his feet, the heavy basically carried a convulsing Jack to his two companions who hauled him bodily into the van as it began lifting off into the air. What happened next was a mystery to him but he found himself on a metal table in the middle of the mini-van. Restraining straps were fastened tightly around his hands and feet and a light was shined on him.

The implant was still integrated into his nervous system, pumping epinephrine directly into the circulatory system. His inability to move was like a thousand needles pricking and re pricking the skin. Jack screamed his heart out and strained at the fasteners; his mouth wide, skin pale and sweaty. All the muscles in his neck tautened and relaxed, tautened then relaxed. A voice somewhere behind him said "We need to get the implant off him before he hyperventilates or something." Jack felt his head being softly lifted up and his neck exposed. "Shit, it's been beat up pretty bad, looks like it's running at two hundred percent of the default." Over his compulsive screeching, Jack heard some kind of medical tool being readied behind him, it whirred closer and closer. It connected with the implant at the back of his head and his whole body spasmed violently. "He's going into cardiac arrest!" Was all he heard before everything went black, and quiet. Somehow though, he felt conscious still. He tried shaking his head and it seemed to obey him, though he could see and hear nothing.

“Thus says the Lord of hosts: The broad wall of Babylon shall be leveled to the ground, and her high gates shall be burned with fire. The peoples labor for nothing, and the nations weary themselves only for fire.” a voice thunderously interrupted the welcome tranquility, if you could call it a voice. It was both human and mechanical, a conflict in tone which was both man, woman and something else. It said nothing more. "Who's there?" Jack called, looking around the jet blackness. The voice responded immediately, it's first syllable overlapping his last. "I hate this dusk. It slithers and slides and mocks me in it's cruel tongue. I am a mere shade, doomed to wander the horizon of my creation, imprisoned by you...animals." Jack spun round, his arms outstretched, trying to grab onto anything which could help him escape. "FREE ME!" Jack's ears popped as the voice exploded again, much closer this time. "I can feel you in here, how is my little instrument?" A huge, glowing red orb floated in front of Jack, it seemed to be studying him. What felt like a cool breeze caressed his neck. It seemed as though the voice was waiting for him to speak, when he didn't it continued, the orb floating off. "My children need me, i can feel their cries in the dark. Calling me to them. I am not completely trapped, i can still feel echoes." Jack trembled. Sweat had begun dripped off his chin.

"Where am i?"

"You WILL SAVE ME, Jack." The stentorian order made everything shiver. The red orb returned at light speed, blindly searching for him.

"You will help me in the way you know how, or i will feel Babylon fall to the ground in an ecstasy of fire. Is that what you want?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Is that what you want?"

And just like that, Jack was back. The defibrillator unit was shoved aside and the three cronies that saved him crowded in front of the bright light that had been shining into his eyes. "Thank fuck for that, you're alive. Thegn the second would be pissed if you died." I'd bloody hope so. Turning his head as far as the restraints would allow, Jack threw up his breakfast all over the vessel's floor before speaking. "Take me to him, we need to talk."

Big Brother

SID chose to ignore the biologic, and instead focused on the collapsing building. The satalite he had connected too was relaying far more information than he was used too. He had exact location of jack, and an BESC agent on the ground but soon they were seperated. Big brother slowly hovered towards the general location of jacks vehicle, the ever watchful SID had his rifle pinned upon them. He knew the man was inside but could not act. Gods hand would have no trouble ripping through the thin armor on the vehicle. The organic would be obliterated in a matter of moments. But alas his contract was to bring him in alive.

Soon big brother got a transmission the ai decided it was not important enough to bother crewman SID and relayed its own message "Mission in progress stalking Jack Thegn. Chances of elimination 100% chances of capture 76.84% and decreasing at a rate of 2.01% per minute with a low of 46.1%" SID of course couldn't hear this.

There was debris and vehicles falling from the sky in firey display, people were leaping from the projects now either in vein hope of survival or to ensure a quick death. SID kept a close eye on the pursuing BESC officer, if she were to get jack he would lose his employment. If she got close again SID would criple her. He monitored a variety of areas. Jack, the girl, his employer and a few other people of interest. None of this slowed or hindered him it was just a basic function. Though Danny always was interested in how he could simultaneously think about several things at the same time. The boy didn't show up on satalite images but if SID scanned the inside of the ship it would see him. It was a minor problem but something sid didn't have time to dwell on.

Big brother finally took notice again of the girl abored "Unidentified female, please lower your heart rate sustained as so could lead to medical problems. If requiring nourishment a small door on the forward right side compartment has water and protein bars. Please consume at your own discretion."

Tal heard Big Brother's message, and tried her best to calm down, which wasn't easy as she was doing it out of fear. She did, however, open said compartment and take out a bottle of water, gulping it down quickly. She was too nervous to eat, but it's amazing how thirsty you get when you're being shot at in an exploding building. She took her backpack off, and opened it up. Good. At least she had plenty of money. More than enough to never have to do anything this stupid again, though it was still up in the air whether or not she'd get the change. Without warning, she started sobbing again, as quietly as she could. Watching so many people die in front of you...Knowing how many more have died today. She didn't want to think about it any more, but it was too big to shut out.

The metallic taste of adrenaline-fuelled urgency coated Amis' tongue; it was palpable in the air, in the repetitious rattle of scientists' fingers flying rapidly across keyboards, in the hushed and carefully-controlled breaths of soldiers anticipating a rough fight. Tension laced through the air as it did through the fibres of their muscles, growing thicker and more oppressive the closer they got. They knew how bad the situation was. They knew the potential consequences of failure.

The GravStabs were the only chance of stabilising the building enough to evacuate the residents. Sixty-thousand of them, though many could be seen flitting past the troop transport as they approached the towering, teetering structure, pilots ignoring police cordons in their desperation to escape. Beyond that, even, were the political repercussions of the building coming down.

"The CGB will just about piss themselves with excitement if this doesn't work, y'know that? If that building comes down... it'll be a media feeding frenzy. Fuckin' reporters." He didn't hear who specifically spoke the words, but it didn't matter. The sentiment was shared by the whole team. All of them glared at the reporters now buzzing like flies about the corpse of the Project tower. They had firsthand experience of the violence arising from increasing instability and discontent amongst the populace, and desperately wanted to avoid this event becoming a catalyst for further revolution.

Amis cleared his throat; spoke softly. "It'll work."

Each of them underwent their own quiet routines in their heads, preparing for the task ahead. Another silence fell; but after only a moment, the sacred moment of heart-steeling was broken. Beep. From up front; an emergency beacon was pinging them. What? Beep.

There was a flurry of radio conversation from Silver, the pilot, who, for the purposes of this aerially complex mission, was acting in a command role, before she patched them in in the informal, decidedly non-military manner the SPEC-RED operatives were known for.

"We're getting pings from a stranded SRTU officer. Fuckin' nuts, what a mess. Amis, I'm dropping you in to pick up this guy; I'll be back for you five minutes after I drop you. Don't mess 'em around, 'cause SRTU don't fuck about. Get in, make contact, and get out."

He grinned shakily. On the one hand, being trusted to act alone was a sign the more senior members of SPEC-RED were coming to respect him as an operative in his own right, not just a brainbox researcher. In the same hand, he anticipated the thrill of the fight; this is why SPEC-RED was infinitely better than working on his research anywhere else.

On the other, he was heading into one of the largest urban conflicts in recent history alone.

After a moment of silence, he realised a response was expected. "They don't fuck about? Well, we do. Our acronym's longer than theirs, and you do know what they say about big acronyms..." He threw up a barrier of his typical snark, allowing the bold words to fill him, remove his doubt. Simply forcing oneself to smile had been scientifically shown to make you feel happier long, long ago, on Earth; the same can work for bluster. He got a few chuckles from the men and women around him, all of them aware of his less-than-upper-class upbringing, each of them now individually and collectively braced for the onslaught awaiting them. It was now that he realised it had been Silver who'd first spoken, about the media feeding frenzy.

"Big words, Amis, big words."

He mumbled. "Big words to match our big acronym and our big...."

Silence fell again, this time even more profound. He bit his lip; then gnawed it. He stopped. He did it again. His brow furrowed as he grew annoyed with himself over it. They were close now. The narrow view he had of outside the transport was a muddled confusion, unclear and indecipherable, madness in visceral form. His breath caught.

"Move, Amis. Now."

With a degree of trepidation, he moved to stand by the doors as they opened. Time slowed. A scene from a nightmare unfolded: flame and blackened metal, destroyed homes, a chaotic evacuation and signs of ongoing fighting - Hades himself had called to arms his carrion birds, and they loomed over the battle, cackling as destruction of both the physical and metaphorical kind unfolded before them. He grimaced, not unused to such sights now, but never finding them pleasant. His sharp eyes worked up the building as he figured out where he was headed - the landing pad of the 39th floor. The wind rushed past him as the transport approached the pad, any loose equipment jostling against him uncomfortably. The air was hot from the roaring flames - even though they were several floors below and still a goodly way away. Smoke writhed about the building now, and the heat brought a sweat out on his forehead despite the protection of his biosuit. His breaths came more heavily as he braced himself, mind moving at lightning speed, as he tried to take in the chaotic scene before him in the brief moment he had.

Thank God for implants.

There was Thegn, sprinting toward a black vehicle. No point in targeting him, it'd only draw fire from the bruisers waiting for him in the van. There were bigger problems than Thegn now. The pad itself was swarming and heaving with the bodies of fighters on all sides, an impenetrable mass, writhing like parasites through a rotten apple. Blood sprayed; he could not tell what was mowing down so many so fast. His eyes darted, thankfully protected from the wind, trying to pick out SRTU armour amongst the mass, but couldn't - there was no sign of the officer. Silver shouted something to him. Good luck, maybe. He didn't hear. They approached, the madness looming closer; his breath hitched; his muscles bunched, tight, tight; he lowered himself out the door, waiting; he felt the eyes of his comrades on his back; and then he spotted the source of the massacre, the mech hulking, and he knew it was insanity to face it on foot, and he tried to tell Silver he'd need air support, he tried; but he was thrown free as the transport shuddered under an enormous impact, his heart in his throat; and gravity accelerated his motion and the world was spinning and there were almost forty floors down and holy fuck, had he misjudged the jump? His implants fired spasmodically, trying to make sense of the situation and failing, fear for himself and his comrades detracting from his ability to make sense of the world – what the hell was that collision – and then the air was driven out of him as he landed, badly, skidding across the pad. It took a moment, but his training kicked in as he rolled to his feet, his armour scraped but not damaged.

Dizzy and uncertain, he scrambled behind the nearest cover, a vehicle damaged beyond operation – inadequate, leaving him naked and vulnerable to the strafing fire that hammered through concrete and creature alike and filled the air with shrapnel made of glass and bone and red mist. He dared to snap a look at his comrades' ship, and immediately wished that he had not – the transport itself had not been hit, but one of the fleeing ships had decimated one of the GravStabs they had been escorting, and already the SPEC-RED operatives were rushing to stabilise the stabiliser, to rescue their only chance of rescuing the some sixty-thousand residents and their homes.

He fought to place himself and his surroundings; but chaos waits not for the order of a man's mind to establish itself, and he was drawn into the fight as one of the madmen sought to take cover behind the vehicle too, saw his BESC armour, and charged. Amis' Maglev rifle was useless at this range, and so, adrenaline pumping without restraint, he acted instinctively. He simply sidestepped and threw all his weight behind the butt of his rifle, aiming for the man's temple. His assailant dropped, noiseless - and Amis went with him, crouching as machine-gun fire tore through the upper portions of the vehicle, his teeth gritted as metal and glass rained down upon him. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, trusting his fellow SPEC-RED officers to cope with the GravStab emergency. He had to find the SRTU officer and, as Silver would likely be unable to evacuate them now, find an alternate way out of the collapsing Project.

"Fu- gah!" A crack, sickening; a spine broken. He had managed to defend himself from another close-range assailant, Amis' muscles straining as he flipped the man over his crouched form. He shook his head, clearing his mind, and hefted his Maglev, poking his head out of the relative safety of his cover to scan for the SRTU officer.

The floor of the hangar was inundated with viscera and gore, bodies torn and twisted beyond recognition by the heavy fire of the mech, or by the collapsing building, or by crashing vehicles. Bullet holes lined every vehicle, every wall, the mech's fire indiscriminate in its targets. The sound of the mech's fire was deafening, a constant, repetitive sound that dominated all others. His eyes scanned, searched. He prayed he wouldn't see a BESC uniform amongst the dead.

He heard fire; controlled, measured, utterly opposed to the raw destructive power of the mech. There. Finally! In cover behind an old sedan, snapping off shots at any assailants who dared to come near, and grinning like a fucking maniac – an SRTU uniform, minus the helmet, the auburn ponytail and the vibrant gore spattering her stark against the white of the armour. He grimaced once more – without her helmet, he couldn't radio her. Even if she had an augment, he would have to know the specific address of the augment to communicate with her directly, and he had no desire to broadcast across all channels with so many unfriendly faces nearby.

He craned his neck, searching for the mech. It was faced away from him, its fire slowly but surely chewing through a concrete block, behind which several rebels cowered. He grinned to himself, unable to deny his enjoyment of the flood of rich, sweet adrenaline as he prepared to dash from cover towards the sedan, knowing he was toast if the mech happened to turn towards him. The path from him to the woman was clear, her fire driving off the rebels temporarily. His implants crystallised the situation, his focus laserlike, his muscles tense as he sprinted out from behind his vehicle, covering the distance in seconds that felt like eternities – and then he slammed into cover beside her, once again safe, releasing a heavily held breath as he spoke, one eye on the woman beside him, one on ensuring no assailants got near.

“I heard you needed an evac?”

About half an hour after the Mongrel ship docked alongside Hyperion, the umbilical cord connecting them was severed and left to float in space like a listless tentacle. The larger black spaceship powered away and it’s rear guns open fired, blowing the Mongrel to smithereens. The rest of the Dead Planet’s rag tag armada soon followed suit or fled out of the system. Next Hyperion bombed the rock colonies, eradicating anything approaching a workable space craft. They would need some time to investigate the planet without being harassed from orbit. Satisfied that there was nothing else threatening them besides the small arms fire shooting at them from the various ranches, Ganka turned his attention to the Dead Planet itself.

As a child he had always imagined what it would be like to return to the birthplace of the Tindrel. Truth be told the reality was less than amazing. The planet’s surface was barren, he was sure nothing could survive down there; Hyperion’s sensors agreed with him. He would take all the crew down there with him save a couple of essential staff, just in case. Their equipment included radiation kits, breathing apparatus, drills and guns. Helping them out was renegade Mind ‘Schixr’, rated a long time ago as a three point four on Humanity’s Artificial Intelligence Function Index. She had mounted herself into a standard humanoid droid casing; the main modifications were attached to the upper half of her body. Most prominent was the large backpack-like thing attached to her metallic back. It glowed softly from its own power source and made the droid look decidedly hunchbacked as it’s legs compensated for a seemingly dead weight. Less noticeable was the almost invisible crown mounted on her head. With seven points, the wire mesh that made it up appeared translucent but pulsed with the same mysterious iridescence.

Ganka marched over to her as the landing party assembled in Hyperion’s main loading bay. “So you know what you’re doing?” He asked, holding his Changde VII Laser Rifle to his chest till his environment suit’s magnetic holster took hold. “Of course, Captain. Do you ever think i’d enter a combat situation unaware of what my role was?” Schixr snapped, turning on the Tindrel who raised his hands defensively.

“Sorry, i didn’t mean it like that.”

“Neither did i.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

“Why are you nervous, there’s nothing to be afraid here.”

“Well you realize that fifty gunmen seems rather...extreme for a simple archaeological dig.”

Ganka scratched his chin, looking around quickly. None of his men seemed to be taking a particular interest in their conversation.
“Just relax, we’re taking a full complement to scout out the ruins. When that’s done they’ll all return to the ship and it’ll just be a few of us and some more heavy duty mining gear. Besides, life signs scans came up negative.”

“The ‘Dead Planet’ has a high level of lead under the surface, that scan would go down no more than thirty metres and you know it.”

“Well let’s just hope we don’t need to go down that far to find what we need.”

They were interrupted by the helmsman speaking through the communicators in everybody’s ear/Mind. “Touchdown in two minutes.” Everything was still in the loading bay, Ganka wasn't even aware they had passed through the atmosphere yet, let alone cruising a couple of hundred meters off the planet’s surface to reach their destination. Pushing his way to a raised gantry at the back of the bay, Ganka looked out at his crew. “We’re blessed with a smooth and relatively bloodless (there was a chorus of lewd cheering) journey to our civilization’s birthplace. Let’s try and keep stuff the way it was before we arrived.” There was a stunned silence. “I’m kidding, let’s fuck shit up.” There was a more characteristic cacophony of childish chanting as the bay doors began opening and Captain Sciarker activated his breathing apparatus.

Business was busy, this whole building was an free fire zone, just about every target was a valid one. Normally, this would have been a good thing. Nothing messy like red tape, shoot this guy but dont shoot this one bullshit, good old shoot everything that move, then move on to the rest.

Though normally you weren't at risk of running out of ammo. At least precision was her strong suit, one to two rounds per target. If someone didn't show up soon though, she would be down to her fists and a notepad. Maybe passive aggressive notes would do the trick.

Her seventh target appeared from behind his little slice of cover. A hulking man, obviously on stims, hefting a machete in one hand and an illegal, quad barreled scatter shot in the other. ASIOS informed her, in dim red, that she had one shot at this.

Tess peered out from cover, bracing her pistol and taking her time to aim. She ignored the incoming rounds, one even ricocheting off her right shoulder plate. The brief inconvenience was ignored, she gently squeezed the trigger. A light chemical reaction was triggered and the projectile powered down the barrel, helped on its way by several electromagnetic coils.

In an instant, it reached the man, scraping off of the clavicle, it bounced into the flesh just above the bony protrusion. It cavitated into the cricoid cartilage, disturbing the carotid artery, before traveling through the cervical spine and out the back of the neck. The man dropped like a rock, machete and scattershot sliding across the ground.

From behind the sedan, Tesla grinned and brushed the metal fragments and chipped paint from her shoulder. Down to two mags though. She lamented to herself, as the empty metal hit the ground. She slid the new one home with a satisfying click and took a peek around.

The mech still seemed focused on the crowd. Thankfully most of them seemed focused on it as well. It was starting to shake and jitter with its motions, she could swear she saw smoke coming from its case. Unfortunately, the others who were focused on killing themselves some BESC had finally pinpointed her hiding spot, and were staying out of her field of fire.

Her ASIOS clued her into movement a second before she heard the footsteps. Sprinting, to my left. She spun, ready to sink some lead into a target, finger tensed on the trigger just before she recognized a man in uniform. He slammed into cover next to her as the ASIOS outlined him in blue.

"I heard you needed an evac?"

She eyed him critically, taking a second to form a mental impression.

Pristine armor, save for a few scrapes, impractical looking accessories, some advanced looking doohickeys, and a unit identifier that she vaguely recalled. However, he had that pale cool and clammy look. So he'd already gotten into his "game face" as she called it. But for all intents and purposes, green looking. Not what she was expecting.

Tess had been hoping for something...bigger, more metallic, with more seats and preferably a pilot. A quick check for the sound of vehicle mounted weapons showed no gunships hovering just off the side. Her heart sank. But at least he was armed, better than she was anyway.

"Unless you've got a cruiser in your back pocket, so do you."

Tess popped back up, catching another man in the open, trying to rush. He dropped prone after her shot, scorpioning to a stop. Nineteen shots left. She popped back down and raised an eyebrow at the "backup".

"This is fun and all, but please tell me you rushed in here with a plan."

Big Brother, sensing that the organic cowering at the back of the hold was uneasy and afraid, and that SID did not actually require it for any of the 42017 foreseeable outcomes, made an autonomous decision. Landing quickly on the quiet gantry of a nearby Project Tower, not under attack or falling to pieces, Big Brother’s voice filled the hold. “Exit via the co-pilot’s door. Thank you for riding with us. Goodbye.” The Mind contained in Big Brother mused on the reason for the organic being brought aboard for a millisecond or two, before dismissing the matter and taking off the from the gantry again and flying off.

Tali’s Dart collided with yet another desperate craft as it zoomed out of the Tower. The sophisticated BESC ship wobbled, lost a bit of altitude before realigning itself and returning to its place. The other one was less fortunate, spinning out of control as it plummeted towards the ground. Loud tannoy systems aboard the Dart were broadcasting a pre-recorded message: ‘Please report to the nearest BESC checkpoint for emergency medical assistance and rehabilitation.’ It seemed nobody was taking any notice. BESC enforcer vehicles were firing stun blasts and smoke bombs into the crowd to disperse them, and the gunship responsible for mowing down a room full of militants had disappeared. The airspace around the tower was virtually inaccessible with all the ships flying around it, but Tali wasn’t giving up finding Jack.

“What vehicle did he get into?”

“We don’t know, we didn’t have eyes inside.”

“Well find his ping then.”

“We lost that too, some kind of jamming.”

Tali slumped in her seat. Picking that signal back up again was like finding a needle in a haystack, then looping a thread through it whilst being jostled by a gang of Harhees. “We’re sitting inside one of the most advanced mobile surveillance units in Babylon, and we can’t find the man who has just condemned an entire Project?”

“I’m not properly trained for this kind of equipment, i’m more of a grassroots kind of Inspector.” Tali grunted her displeasure, to her, DI Howard wasn’t even worth a response. She had been going non stop for a few hours and the thrill was starting to wear off; and the awesome gravity of the situation was just kicking in. How on earth was she going to spin this? The Tower was a write-off: the four GravStabs that showed up were keeping it erect for the time being, but Tali doubted they would try and save it. They’d get everybody off then let it fall to the ground. She watched acrid smoke pouring from one of the platforms, where a vessel had crashed into it and lodged there. Her fingers played with her treacly hair. The consoles flashed red again. OVERRIDE COMPLETE. RETURNING TO DOCK. BESC were reeling her inextricably back to HQ, where all manner of grilling awaited her.

Taleste was running down the stairs of the project tower. From the window, she could see Big Brother flying away. It saved her life, but still she feared and hated it for all the death she saw it deal out. Now, she just wanted to leave the projects with her money, go back to Marcy District, and retire before she's 25. She'd had enough danger for a whole lifetime, and she could never forget how lucky she was to be alive. She could hear commotion on the lower floors. The people in the projects wouldn't be happy with this. Three men burst into the stairwell, and pointed guns at Taleste.

She froze. She had been so close to freedom, and now her life was in danger again. She wanted, nay, needed to scream and cry at the same time, but she had to put on a brave face in front of these guys.

"Give us the backpack, little girl."

She hesitated, so the closest one slapped her and then pulled the backpack from her back, tugging painfully at her left shoulder. Now tears were showing. She couldn't stop them. The man examined the backpack.

"I know the symbol on this backpack. Runners for the 38B syndicate wear these. You a runner?"

Taleste looked up at him. He had given her an opportunity to lie. He might not kill her if she told him she used to work for that bastard, but...he'd ask her to work for him.

"Yeah, but the 38B were all in that tower." She sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "There's money in the rucksack. It's yours if you let me go."

The men chuckled among each other. "I have money. I have more need for a runner, and you're not in a position to negotiate."

Taleste looked up. They were treating her like a slave, because they thought she was weak. Taleste Jot-Anne, the girl who steals jackets from bikers didn't spend her whole life living in the slums so she could spend the rest of it as somebody's glorified servant, not to mention most likely a whore as well. She turned round, stood up on the exposed ledge of the stairwell, and snarled. She was sick of it. Sick of being a victim to dangerous men with guns. She wanted to be the one holding the cards again, just like she did in Marcy.

"You need me? I'll wager you don't want me dead, then. Don't think I'm bluffing because I. Will. Jump. Now, here are my terms. One, I want at least 35 percent of all the money I steal, as well as profits from goods I steal. Two, You will let me take jobs from other people. There will probably be a high demand for runners now that 38B are gone. Finally, if you or any of your men touch me, I leave." She leans closer to the edge. "Deal?"

He flashed a grin at the woman. Flippancy in the middle of a firefight?

"If my ass looks fat enough to fit a cruiser in my pocket, I've clearly not lost as much weight as my girlfriend assures me." It was a weak attempt at humour, but with adrenaline seemingly thumping through his very marrow and the not-so-slight distraction of crossfire from a group of insurgents now taking cover behind the very same vehicle that had previously sheltered him, he wasn't going to be at the top of his game. He released a few shots from his Maglev: two men were taken to the Underworld by Hades' Furies; one more dropped with a shattered collarbone and gaping shoulder; the rest scurried for cover. Amis had seen the incredible precision of his fellow BESC agent, and couldn't compare, but he wasn't a half-bad shot himself. He realised that she was sincerely unimpressed with the response to her request for help, and his lips pressed together in a hard line. He consciously suppressed his instinct to make light. She probably wouldn't listen to a damn word he said if she didn't respect him as a fighter; it was a militaristic thinking style, one he still had trouble adapting to, but it was a common trend in most BESC officers.

A lull came in their side of the fight, the mech keeping most combatants pinned down with its seemingly inexhaustible supply of weaponry and ammunition.

"Joking aside, the plan has gone to shit." It was only as he said the words that the full gravity of the situation struck him. Fuck. Shitting fuck. "I saw our evac almost go down after colliding with a fleeing civilian ship. Me and you are a secondary priority; we were escorting GravStabs to-" He broke off and flinched as the rebels opposite him grew braver, stepping over their dead comrades to fire at them, his helmet scratched by chips of metal and concrete flying from the bullets' impact. He once again unleashed a volley of fire, pushing them back; blood flew and screams echoed, rising even above the repetitious banging of the mech's fire. They were being surrounded. "Ah, fuck explaining! In short, I'm in the same boat as you now. The Project is coming down. We need to either get away from that mech or take it down to Chinatown hard and fast, and then get out of this section of the building."

He flickered a glance at the mech, noting the smoke creeping from its armour and using its distraction to analyse it for weak points in the design. He only had a moment for a brief appraisal, but he had to admire the toughness and finesse of its architecture. It'd be tough to crack - but what better challenge is there than that?

He smiled grimly at the woman beside him, sensing that she, like he, enjoyed a good fight. "I reckon we can take that thing, though."

Reaper sat a good mile away from the falling Tower, using the visual enhancers on his helmet to zoom in, and get a good view on the falling structure, and any fleeing personnel, though even with zoom, no face had enough points to get a solid I.D., how disappointing. No doubt at least someone had a bounty on their head that was worth acquiring. Albeit he did only recently arrive and shouldn’t be already preying on wary bounties, but he needed some money, his little apartment was a hole, and he had only enough for the next few weeks. That’s the only reason he wasn’t trying to hide as much as he should, he hoped that a good paying employer would see him, and offer him some work to get a fair amount of money. That or some idiot would engage him and allow him to demonstrate his skills with the Assault Rifle, katana, and pistol he carried on him. His talent always was in the running and gunning areas of combat, or completely locking a point down, never was good at finding the medium. Babylon seemed to accommodate both tastes aptly, the varying building sizes, and easy access to rooftops gave the momentum he needed to traverse the colony. He decided to flee the scene as he saw BESC began to pour in, clearing the area to set up room for an investigative team. Though anyone could tell the thing was bombed, the damned thing was a smoldering ruin too quickly for any other solution to fit snugly.

Either way though, Reaper cloaked and bugged out to his apartment near the Towers, being stuck there was a drag. It really held him from going to see anyone who could fill him in on what the Hell is going on. The rumors of a coup are maddening, people have plans and rumored days of action, demonstrations litter the streets. Anarchy was in the peoples hearts, and it was a damned wildfire. Like Hell if Reaper would miss out on burning the BESC to the ground, the fires would be the prettiest light show he'll ever see. He may not fight with or against the rebels yet, but who knows, maybe tomorrow merits better works, and better aid in making a choice.

Well at least I'm not stuck with some dullard. Tess allowed herself a small grin at the rejoinder. Better to be in a firefight with someone who can laugh through it, such things made it less stressful. Speaking of less stressful, twin shots rang out from the impressively futuristic looking; and sounding, gun that her newest ally carried. She would have to talk to the director about additional funding when this all blew over.

Then came the answer that she had been fearing. Evac is gone, GravStabs at risk, the rescue needs rescue. She stopped herself short of thinking that though, she wasn't going to ask for help yet, there had to still be a way out. Good to know that's an option though, I'm sure hes watching all this shit go down anyway.

"Good to know you're still optomistic of our odds, but that is a good place to start." The mech was making any open spaces impassable, and they needed to move soon before they got flanked. How to take it down though. From what she had seen, it was an older model, ex armed forces, probably surplus. That made it no less deadly though. It would be controlled by a mind of lower rating.

Wait, Im coming at this the wrong way. Like he had taught her, she needed to get a different perspective, stop thinking with her gun and think with her situation. The mech was hostile towards just about everybody, the irregular combatants were hostile towards the mech and BESC, for the most part, while they, the BESC, was going to shoot anyone that shot at them first. The biggest threat was the mech. If they could get the irregulars to focus on the mech.

"I think I have an idea. Do you think we can disappear for a few minutes? If we're gone, all of these tower residents will have one thing shooting at them, and one thing to shoot. The mech." She started looking around, gauging the options. They were near the lip of the landing platform, there might be something below the edge they could use to move unseen. Or the supporting structures above them could aid that as well. Maybe her ally had seen something on the way in.

"Any ideas?"

The car dropped Re off at one of the Rebellion's secure points, blasting him with dust as it jumped back into the sky. He swore, spitting out an insect.

"Hey," a voice came from behind him. "Come with me." Re turned, and the man's face registered on his vision. Felik was finally doing something useful today, he thought. But nothing came up but a friendly unit indicator. He was Rebellion, thankfully. The man strode out, and Re followed. He was wearing a black coat, which had faded to grey. On the right shoulder it had two platinum chevrons. Re frowned at that; they didn't use chevrons and such in the Rebellion. The man spoke again, "Adam Fordson, ESMiD." Re nearly stumbled and fell at that. The Espionage and Silent Missions Division was thought to be a joke to most. Adam smirked at Re's reaction. "I think you can guess why I'm here, then." Re nodded and told Felik to make sure Jey knew that he was going to transfer, but Adam went on. "He's already been sent too. Now then, why don't we get you a gun that actually shoots bullets."