Aidan kept his mouth forcefully shut for the rest of the evening with the squad, refusing to drink any drop of alcohol since he was already growing drowsy and lightheaded; he knew he could stomach more than two sips, but he almost forgot his body was on morphine, the side effect kicked in quick enough for him to feel distressed. He saw Ken starting to talk, so he pulled hims brain back from its lethargic state and focused on the sounds the wolf's mouth would make until he could make out words; noticing the semi-desperate expression the airman had on his face, Aidan felt a chuckle arriving, but a nasty burp replaced the sound before he answered in a sketchy tone.

"Listen, mang, I got you the booze, you do whatever you wan' with it. Drink it, piss on it, hell, sell it on the black market, I dun' care. If you take a swig, jus' don't get piss drunk. It's 4% vol. pils beer, one bottle and you'll still be fine."

Sitting mostly to fit in the background, the dog had a quiet night idly wasting time while his brain wandered off into the past to re-evaluate his performance on the field, tracking every step: from the beginning of the operation with the assault on the mine entrance, to Arcade's rescue, to Kuraiko's rescue, the mines, the shootout, his wound, the captain's condition. He blamed his rash decision on the pain and distraction overstimulating his synapses, taking away his ability to thoroughly judge risk versus outcome. It would be too late to back out now, since he already took the responsibility of keeping Es in check and alive; it wouldn't be the first time he would do some not-that-legal workarounds to help a friend out; he wasn't a drug dealer, as he had no interest in extra cash that he could only waste on cigarettes he wouldn't smoke, booze he wouldn't drink and whores he would leave untouched. He thought of acquiring a carbine that would suit his needs better than a PDW could, but he kept reminding himself that he was a PILOT, not infantry; one would still argue that GEARs count as heavy infantry, but that didn't motivate the need for a larger firearm since the pilot wouldn't exit the vehicle for other reasons than maintenance or neutralization of the vehicle. It was at this hour that he felt some sort of feeling that nagged him about acquiring a carbine, or at least take a standard issue from the armory, pray that the tactical rails are not different in size and fit the holographic sight on it.

Another thought nagged at him, urging him to get off his feet and get back to duty, so Aidan quietly took his leave without announcing that he was heading away; he picked himself up and let his feet carry him to the sick bay, using the walls around him to support his weight when his vestibular sensors lagged. He ended up in the morgue, where the two coffins were hastily covered with a flag each. Aidan picked up a folding chair from the antechamber and strategically placed himself next to wall that would, more or less, catch his head if he dozed off; at least he would wake up with a headache, not with a bloody nose. If he would fall on the other side, then may gravity have mercy upon his half-handsome face. He booted his PADD sitting on his lap and while the device went through several loading screens, the dog took a moment to look at the two deceased pilots. He got used to sitting for hours next to corpses as some sort of antique honorary act, but he could remember all of their faces and first names. 90% of them weren't from the 137^th, yet, given enough time and energy, Aidan could still make an informative list of each and every of them. To that list, he had to add two more poor sods, one he couldn't save despite his efforts, the other one simply withered away when no one was looking. Both had an incredible potential and talent, and all the reasons to be alive and happy, yet, they were just dead. Along with every inspiring thought, smile, word, imagination and emotion, they become nothing but memories that would also fade and become nothing, given enough time. He himself would become nothing, along with his efforts and dreams. Everyone would one day just read his, or anyone's name, and feel nothing, knowing nothing about those people.

He was too tired to fight off those grim thoughts as he sat slumped on the chair sustaining the dog's weight with some effort, tapping on the surface of the screen until he reached a certain window filled with contacts; there, he double tapped one of the contacts and quickly shoved in the PADD's earpiece. A quarter of the screen was then taken over by a portrait photo that, even though it showed a relatively bored, but beautiful black tabby, it brought a fond smile upon his wrecked face. With the shoddy connection the landcruiser had, it took a while for the PADD to actually "dial" the contact and when the call finally succeeded, the dog had to wait for about one minute to receive an unresponsive tone, much to his dismay. He couldn't do much about it but to exhale his frustration and try not to worry too much about her unresponsiveness; for all he knew, she could be in the middle of an operation far away from home and, maybe, even civilization. He tried to push away concerns and leave them no place in his mind, the last thing he wanted was a pinch of doubt that could easily tip the scale against his favor and make a lot of mistakes for being emotional; it was hard in the beginning to stay so long away from her, much harder than separating from his family of two brothers, a sister and his parents. Doubts about her loyalty to him would be a daily routine chewing his brains until it would bleed misery, but if that was the case, why would she return to him every time? In a way, her death would be easier to bear than her being unfaithful, a thought that made Aidan question his own morals and mental sanity.

After fifteen minutes of staring at the profile photo had passed, Aidan finally got out of the contact window to access a database with all sorts of pathophysiology and clinical medicine tomes in electronic format, downloading as many of them that suited his needs and about one hour in his vigil, Aidan was fighting for the last drops of focus and consciousness, his eyelids growing heavier by the second and his eyes crossed until he would see three PADDs sitting in his lap. A powerful yank pulled him back to reality when the default ringtone blasted loudly in his right ear, scaring him hard enough to flex his whole body and trigger a jolt of deaf, burning pain in his left arm. He fumbled and nearly dropped the PADD in the process of answering the call, his heart attempting to break his ribcage while his body failed to respond to all of his commands.

"H-hello? Can you... can you hear me? Hello?" Hearing something from the other end made him smile, not really knowing exactly what the other participant was mumbling with an evenly tired voice.

"Wow, I- I didn't think that I'd catch you tonight. It's good to hear from you, how have you been? Yes, I know you can't tell me much, but it's you I want to kn- ah. Mhm. Oh, me?" He briefly looked over to his wounded arm. "Not much going on here. We had some activity here, but all in all, not much. Yeah, it's much more active than back home, but I've been good, busy with these kids here and their bruises and all. Of course. I missed you too, kitty."

The conversation went on for some time, but they had to stop as the network connection strength wavered. Just stalling their goodbyes took several minutes and no matter how long Aidan tried to keep his paramour talking into his ear, the bitter taste in his mouth after the end of the call wouldn't leave him alone. He didn't know if she felt the same, but in a way, he hoped she didn't suffer like he did, it would get in the way of her duty; he was built to be hammered with physical and emotional punishment and hardened his ability with military and medical training, but some things still hit home. He completely lost his focus and gave up reading through any of the tomes he finished copying on his PADD's hard drive and instead started playing some stupid game to keep him distracted, but awake; of course it failed, since Aidan woke up several hours later, confirming to himself that he dozed off by looking at his watch, reading 05:42 AM. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head once violently and took another furtive look at his watch, only to be shocked to the core when he read E2:89 DD instead. As his eyes peered at the odd combination, the room's neon light changed from the sterile white hue to an oppressive grey-green, finding himself surrounded with metallic drawers, each with weird number patterns and no door to exit the morgue.

But he didn't want to replay the dream in his head at the moment, forcing it to the back of his mind; the damage it had done, though, wouldn't be easy to push so easily. He checked, and rechecked, and rechecked his watch, looking for any change of flow in time passage. It was 7:15 AM, then 7:16 AM, then 7:17 AM. It did take a code red alarm to get him up on his feet, crashing the chair on the floor as he dashed from the morgue to the common quarters, ready to break a fight, save a dying man or stop a fire. He only found his superior, two of his colleagues and a lot of croissants; his heart was racing and it did no good to his weakened state, something had took its toll on Aidan's droopy and somewhat unfriendly morning facial expression. He rubbed one of his inflamed eyes and muttered a croaky "Sir" under his breath, sketched a salute and took a seat. He tried as much as he could to not act tired, or as if he was a super fresh dandelion, he instead picked a croissant, plucked away one of its ends and shoved it in his mouth, feeling instant repulsion towards the poor pastry.

"We there yet?" He muttered after he downed the croissant end through his dry throat.

((Gonna keep it a bit short))

Kensington peered up at the man after staring at the cans given to him, nodding to the doctor's response before they separated. Alone again the airman spent a good few minutes staring at the can, pondering over his options before tucking the cans under his arm and making his way out the door. While the majority was together and having a somewhat good time, the pilot made the decision to have a more quiet night alone like some of the others have done. Back at his quarters he simply stashed the drinks in his bag, and immediately went to unpacking everything else that needed to be unpacked before he left from a change of clothes to a few documents that needed to be secured. Once everything was in order, the wolf stood there, alone in his room with only the sound of the PA system breaking the silence around him. Boredom was quick to overcome him, and soon he made the decision to strip down and simply pass out under the sheets of his bed. This wont be the last time I have to deal with this kind of problem. The airman confessed internally, and that was the last thought that crossed his mind before sleep overcame him.

The decision to sleep was probably not the best one after all that has happened. Recent events just played over and over from the radio transmissions to Kensington's moment when he was told his passenger was dead. He could feel it, a sense of overwhelming guilt overcoming him. With that guilt came questions that he never really thought of before: what about the family? Will they know exactly what happened? Will this helicopter pilot have a chance to make up for the bad run despite everything being against him during that medevac? What if... He could get someone out of there when they needed it most? Would that make him feel better?

The whole night was just questions, but when the morning came the only thing that came to Kensington's room was the blaring alarm system that snapped the airman awake. Once returning to the world of the living with a panicked mindset, the senior airman's eyes shot around from his clothes to the doorway when he spotted the doctor running by. Just then he felt something was wrong and immediately grabbed his clothes before running out the door. If he knew a curse word, he definitely blurted it out during his mixture of running and hopping to wherever he needed to be. Upon arrival he only half dressed, thankfully he pulled on the lower portion first but regardless he still needed to pull his top on and he did so with great speed, a sense of relief overwhelming him once he realized the current situation wasn't as bad as he thought it was. "E-eh.. Senior Airman reporting for duty!" He quickly exclaimed, giving his salute and attention stance despite the drowsy condition he was on. Once he was dismissed though he quickly pull on the rest of his clothing and began trying to fill the empty whole in his stomach with the mediocre food. "Sorry yah had to see the fur boss.." He muttered, the words being directed towards the colonel himself.

Last night mike toasted heartily with the rest of the Rough Riders, raising his voice till little more than gibberish was heard. Some sneaky crewman had kept his cup full, but he couldn't remember who, let alone how, he suspected one of the Gear techs. Someone toasted him for protecting the team, which mike didn't really believe, but played along anyway.

"Cheered for being a wall/bullet stop?" he thought. sure...why not? He should have used the mini guns more.

The thoughts continued the rest of the night, until the last few sober brain cells coaxed him to take his leave. What little dignity he had left was preserved as he stumbled into his quarters, shut the door, and fell onto his bed. His head and arm resting on the floor, snores rumbling through the cabin.
Mike fell tail over ears as sirens and bells sent a deafening cacophony through his splitting head.

"MOTHER OF _!" mike coughed before his brain slowly put the pieces together. "attack?.....ATTACK!"
Jumping unsteadily to his feet, mike wobbled, and with sheer force of will, gained his balance and burst from his door, sprinting for the armory. He ran 20ft down the corridor, before he noticed the lack of chaos.

"........." mike frowned and back stepped back into the common area, pointing at bade without looking as he sat down.
"Not funny sir....." he said, holding his head.

"Not funny sir....."

Blade feigned an innocent look, his muzzle twitching into a tight half-smile, before he took a seat with the rest.
"So," he began airily, as if nothing was untoward at all, "now we're all here, let's get to the business."
He laid his PADD on the table, tapping the slate-black surface. Holographic icons swirled into the air above the tabletop, displaying a wireframe map of Martenstown. The place was much smaller than the Landren capital, and most of the other large, developed settlements in the interior of the country. However, it was still large enough to be busy and important.
"Martenstown started off as a way-station, a stopping point between the border of Landren and the unclaimed badlands regions. The really, really intense areas of the Badlands at that. There's routes through, and they can lead you into a variety of places - The Empire, the Southlands, Treminia and Elegaia to name a few. Means that Martenstown ends up being a melting pot, and a hotbed for all kindsa activities. Especially sneakin' intel groups through the border - and the people they're lookin' fer as well."
He tapped the hovering map, and with a few gestures, split it into multiple sections, isolating the jumble of the mid-town area from the regular order of the outer regions of the town.
"The center of town is the oldest region. The most cluttered and crowded, that's where all the hangouts, dives and bars are. Not to mention a huge street Bazaar as well. All the administrative buildings are in the newer area of town, along with the Landcruiser docks, and the warehousing districts. Most of those are owned by holding corporations for various... "groups" in the town, or at least that have interests there. I'm sure many of them aren't native to Landren either. So." he paused and took a long drink of his tea, the mug declaring "BOSS" in large letters. "Our role will be as follows. We can't go stomping in with our GEARs, that would just escalate things; the hostiles - and anyone else - would bring out their GEARs and heavy weapons to level the playing field, an' square their own grudges. Not ta mention, there's all the civvies ta think about as well. So - we can't send Es's fireteam in on their own. There's too much ground to cover, and the rest of us would jus' be sittin' here spinnin' our wheels anyway. Which means, we're all goin' in. We split up inta groups - Everyone has a buddy or two, and we scout about. Th' intel on the disk and from th' prisoners points toward a unit operatin' with a contact from a shippin' an' holdin' company named Excelsior holdings. They're known to be a crime syndicate, mainly dealin' in importin' weapons and restricted tech, or in movin' people across borders. They might be givin' space to the Northeners t' hide out. There's also the HQ fer that Landcruiser that Ken intercepted, th' Strike It Big salvage cruiser. They might be another front fer someone else. Mainly what we gotta do is find out who's new in town, an' what kinda questions they been askin', see whos askin' fer what an' from who. Once we get a clearer picture, we move on a location and try and get th' princess back, or at least find out where she is, or where she went."
He tappes more icons, and the icons resolved to show numerous faces and locations. "These are some of the known individuals who are part of syndicate activities, and the known haunts they frequent. They're the ones to follow or track, or informants to make contact with. Remember, in the bazaar, almost everything is up for grabs - even info, if you ask the right questions. So, be smart, be alert, and be brave but cautious. It goes without saying, we go in minimal uniform. We'll likely get marked as LDF anyway, but the less suspicion the better. Take your sidearms and blades, but keep 'em concealed. PDWS or compact weapons too, but keep 'em in bags or discreet cases - again, try not to draw attention. Only shoot if y'all got no choice. Remember, defend yourself and your comrades over everything else, an' keep in contact with the carrier an' each other at regular intervals. Irry will be standin' ready in her GEAR in case we need fire support fer extraction, along with two ATV fireteams wi' heavy weapons".
He nodded and shut the holographic display down. "Go get yerselves changed an' ready, an' we'll meet down in the hangar deck in fifteen minutes. The Claw will be in dock by then". He stood up and nodded to everyone, heading to the door in the corner of the room leading to his office and quarters.

***

Fifteen minutes later, the vulpine was clad in a laid-back outfit of worn jeans, a beaten up and untucked checked shirt with rolled-up sleeves and brown boots. A bag was slung over one shoulder - big enough for a small SMG, and the shirt hem low enough to hide the holster for a compact -frame semi-automatic pistol. The siren in the hangar blasted twice, and then a crack of light split the hull, as the ramp began to lower, hissing down on massive hydralic pistons to reveal the bustle of a Lancruiser dock beyond.
Smells and sounds assaulted the ears and eyes. Massive therapod beasts of burden carried supplies back and forth, trucks and ATV's intermingled with them, and the constant flow of people among them. Stacks of crates, barrels of boxes were everywhere, and beyond the bustle were the rising roofs of warehouses, offices and administration complexes.
"Awite," Silverwind said with a firm nod and a tight smile to the squadron. "Let's go be nosy".

Kuraiko, after being rudely (Yes, that alarm was pretty rude. Sir.) awakened by a code red alarm, his peaceful wake-up was ruined, his mind was now groggy from sleep, but his mind took in the briefing information well. Memorizing the names and faces of those who should be memorized, and doing his best to remember the map and the locations of interest. He simply listened, the idea for a buddy system irking him a tad, but also fitting well. It was a controversial tactic given the idea of the plan to remain incognito, but he trusted Blade and his judgement. Therefore he didn't question the order and just went with it. When told to go prepare by Blade, he hurried to his room and dressed himself in civilian attire.

Around fifteen minutes later, Aihara was standing near the hangar doors, his six foot frame clad in a brown leather duster coat that looked a tad worn. Something he took when he left for the Landren military, the coat would help him conceal his two pistols, though he wore a low-hem gray t-shirt under it to further hide the weapons. (At this time he was rather happy the leather wasn't that thick, else he would roast.) Aihara wore decent-fitting jeans, not too tight or too loose, making himself look like a drifter. Someone who would fit in anywhere, he could easily remove the coat and still conceal his firearms well. Over his shoulder he had a bag that could conceal a moderately sized SMG, though the bag seemed to fit the outfit, looking more like a travel bag than anything. When the gates opened, he took a deep breath and smiled. "Alright, lets do this!" He laughed as the vehicles rolled out, carrying many supplies.

Upon hearing the mission parameters, and being dismissed, mike got up and walked into his room. Reaching into his locker, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin, and multivitamins, taking two of each before swallowing them down with some sports drink.

"that ought to keep my head together." he muttered, before killing off the rest of the drink. tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin, he peeled of the dress uniform, and dressed in civilian clothes. trading the dark, itchy wool, for a pair of faded jeans, dark T-shirt, and battered combat boots. taking a moment, he walked over to is GEAR uniform, and removed the vest, wondering if it would fit under his jacket.
"hmm...maybe?" mike mused, as he slid it on, and looked in a mirror. "no dice" he grumbled as he put it back, and grabbed his old jacket. Originally forest green, the heavy triple stitched fire hose jacket, had faded to a muted olive, but still had comfortable heft to it.

"well... you won't stop a bullet, but you might catch a blade" he said, smirking. "maybe the armory has something." mike mused, as he slid on his belt and holster rig, covering it with the jacket. After strapping on his knives, and adjusting them into obscurity, he grabbed his field knife, and headed to gear up at the armory. Despite his sensitivity to the lights, his hangover was getting better, and his mood followed suit. walking into the armory, he waved at the quarter master and came up to the window.

"sir, got a unusual mission, and I need some concealable equipment, and armor to match" mike said handing his PADD with his mission orders as proof.

"That's an odd one alright." the wolf nodded, motioning to a corporal. "get him kitted up, make sure he'll come back." the corporal nodded, and started to pick out and stack equipment.

a few minutes before deployment, mike arrived, itching at his collarbone. the corporal did good, the body armor was light, but strong, and only mildly irritating. the only thing that seamed abnormal, was the barely noticeable band around his throat, a clear wire going around his ear, and a satchel bag. being that a GEAR helmet might be a bit obvious, he decided to opt for a throat mike, earwig and radio. other new additions came in his satchel, such as water, small med kit, food, field knife, and most importantly, a loan from the armory.
checking his pistol, mags, and knives, making sure they were secured before he looked at the others.

"who's ready to go be ground pounders for a change?" he asked with a smirk.

Aidan sat down on the first whatever near his body, rested his head on his right fist and closed his eyes to listen to the briefing. He did have to struggle to keep himself awake, but he couldn't think of any other posture that would make him withstand the entire briefing without succumbing to microsleep; he judged that if he would allow himself to close his eyes, his brain would become too anxious and keep itself from actually falling asleep to not embarrass himself. From personal experience, he knew that the more he tried to keep his eyes open, the sleepier he would feel. As Blade went on, the dog questioned his own state of awareness: were they really heading on foot, dressed like civvies? The amalgamations of bad feelings made him almost retch on the spot, choking on gastric reflux that gave off its specific taste at the back of his tongue and throat. He immediately wanted to call in sick on this one, his instincts, his emotions and his rationality outright refused to join in. The colonel was a super nice guy, he would understand his issue, right? That would me he had to lie again and dig himself deeper in his own grave. Against everything, he avoided telling Silverwind about his situation and turned 180 degrees.

He mindlessly headed towards the armory in tandem with Michael, but he allowed him to go first and get the stuff he needed. For himself, he thought he would get a casual dark blue short sleeve shirt, his denims and a pair of boots that wouldn't look too military. He considered getting his sneakers, but he would get the worst blisters on Arvara if he had to run for a large number of miles. The armorer, suspecting that he was joining the tiger on this weird task, offered him a similar vest to wear under the shirt, a walkie talkie with earpiece which he "masterfully" concealed with the help of a dark grey cap and his pair of sunglasses. He took a black briefcase with a shoulder strap in which he stowed his PDW, the 5.7x28mm round-totting M-57, along with two more spare magazines, two magazines for a subcompact handgun in another compartment, his knife in the same compartment with the handgun, a super-basic first aid kit and a couple of bottles filled with water. In the end, he looked like some business man dressed in casual-wear. Either that, or a soldier trying really hard to look like a civilian. What helped with making his outfit more believable was to unbutton the first button, leave the shirt untucked and leave his jeans unbloused over the boots. Like Blade, he concealed a subcompact handgun around his waist under the loose shirt. The briefcase felt stupid heavy at first, but there was no other choice for him but to get used to the extra weight pulling him down. There was one last thing he had to deal with before he would go out, so, he waited beside the armory for a particular feline to pop up. Once the Captain showed up, Aidan quickly took a step forward to block her from gaining access to the armory, nearly stumbling over his own feet due to his hastiness.

"Captain. May I have a word with you? Privately, of course."

Once Aidan made sure no one was around to eavesdrop on their conversation, he sighed heavily and pressed his eyes back in their sockets, thinking of a good way to deliver the news.

"Ma'am. The results came back. The guys stood up all night working on those samples, mainly because the findings were baffling for them, I suppose. They wouldn't know the final verdict, since the results have to be pieced together by a physician, so we're safe for now.

I couldn't find a better moment to break this to you and I can only trust you with the information. If your squad finds out exactly what your problem is, they WILL freak out, act suspicious and blow our cover. I don't want to stall this any longer, so I'll give it to you straight: you've got GPA. Granulomatosis with PolyAngiitis, or Wehrner's Granulomatosis. Basic description, it's a form of vasculitis- uh, inflamati- SWELLING of blood vessels in most organs including, yes, lungs. And kidneys. I don't think you ever check your urine, but it should be bloody red by now." Aidan shot his head to a side to check if anyone was peeking at the two crammed up in a cramped alcove. He turned his attention back to Esailia to grab her shoulders and pull the woman closer to speak on a lower tone.

"The swelling is caused by antibodies called ANCAs, so basically, your own body is trying to destroy your own blood vessels, an auto-immune disease if you will. What caused this, I'm not sure; it could be you inhaled some toxic fumes, or it could be genetic inheritance, what concerns us now is not how it popped up, it's how we treat it. We need remission-inducing drugs and immunosuppressants to control the advancement of the condition. We can't find any of those here, since the military doesn't accept people with any health issues, BUT, the visit to Martenstown is a perfect opportunity for me to snatch-and-grab the stuff you need. We can control it for at most five years with basic drugs, but if I get my hands on some really good stuff, it should be just enough to get to retirement. Or until you decide you want to quit.

Esailia, if allow me to call you so, this is something that's out of my field of knowledge. From the moment I got the results at 0600 hours, I powered through all the e-tomes I could download on my PADD to do my research and I think I've got the gist of it. As promised, I'll do my very best to help you out, but I would still suggest seeking more capable help. To recap: autoimmune disease, swollen blood vessels, lung bleeding. Prescription-only drugs, 5-year survival rate 80-something percent if treatment is followed adequately. You won't die today or tomorrow, but I can't guarantee you'll make it the next month, it's your call, ma'am. I'm here to help and support you, okay? Whatever you choose to do, I'll comply."

With that, he lifted her chin one inch up and gave her a smile and a nod before he left off towards the hangar door. He didn't know how he pulled off a smile with the sense of foreboding clouding his mind. He got so distracted that he managed to snag his shirt in a door handle, getting yanked back by the object; he ignored that incident and the half-humorous remark, he would otherwise find rather amusing, someone near him made. The long walk towards the hangar door felt like a marathon he had to pull through, having all the reasons to just drop on his ass and refuse to join. The restless night, the physical strain from the other day and the difficult condition he had to treat all mounted his head and dragged him back and away from his duty; every step was harder to make, he physically felt his legs growing heavier during the approach and by the time he arrived, he already felt exhausted. Lucky he had the cap and the sunglasses to conceal most of his distressed expression. To lose some tension, or at least attempt to, he smirked to Nawlin's question and replied.

"Hopefully it won't be us who'll get pounded. Guess it goes without saying you people should watch your back on the field; if I would carry my kit, I'd might as well put a bull's-eye on my head."

Esailia was smirking behind a mug of coffee as everyone filed in. It was one thing to drink heavily and deal with the hangover, but another to be woken by a blaring horn of all things the next morning. Watching her squad slip in with the others, she chuckled to herself. It wasn't that she didn't have sympathy for them, it's the fact that she had all the reason in the world to drink. She had a disease that would end her life, and worse yet, her career. Not even merc groups would accept her if she came coughing. But, she was determined, and had faith in the good Doctor. She had known a few medical staff in the past that helped her like Aidan was.

Nathanial, Naida, and Edward took up places near Esailia's seat, rubbing their eyes and trying to look like they were paying attention. Esailia observed them as they all asked for coffee, and as the briefing continued, saw as they quickly became excited. Ground pounding in an urban area. It was something all of the Firesquad had trained for before they specialized into anti-GEAR combat. And not just ground pounding, but covert operations. Information gathering. Nathanial especially looked intrigued, his tail twitching excitedly. Naida looked enthused, but Esailia had no doubt the fox was not going to like not having her heavy guns. Edward, though...it was odd. But he looked interested too. The captain pondered at this. Edward was the techie and engineer for the squad, and they weren't driving anything. She shrugged it off and put it in the back of her mind to ask him later.

None of the firesquad said anything the entire briefing, and quickly headed to the armory with everyone else, but held back to escort their captain.

As they arrived, Esailia noticed Aidan looking at her, and qhickly addressed her squad "Please. I'm not a weak kitten. Go on ahead, it's not like I'll be left behind." She said, waving the trio ahead of her. Nathanial and the siblings glanced at each other, and nodded, following orders and heading into the armory to suit up.

Esailia followed Aidan into the alcove, and listened to what he had to say, nodding at his points. Of course her squad didn't need to know the full extent of the medical side, they were worried enough as it was. "They'll follow orders if I tell them to find something without alerting the others." She interjected at the mention of needing a snatch-and-grab, before falling quiet once more, staring at the Doctor's feet as her mind worked. It was one thing to know you're sick. It was mind numbing to think that her own body was fighting itself.

The feline felt her head being lifted, and she was surprised to feel wetness being cooled by the airflow on her face. Was she crying? She shook her head from Aidan's grasp, quickly rubbing at her eyes. "Yeah, got it. I'm not living in a wonderland. My life has been all about serving. Can't do that if I'm dead, now can I? Transfer the names of the meds you need to my PADD. I'll get Edward to sniff them out if needed." She stated, before brushing passed Aidan to the armory door.

Her squad had already finished and were waiting a polite distance away, and Esailia waved at them to go ahead "I told you I don't need to be watched. The bruising's healing fine. Go on." Before slipping out of their sight....
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Firesquad assembled with the GEAR pilots as the bay door opened, with Esailia walking up behind them at the last moment to hear Silverwind saying "Awite, let's go be nosy."

It took only a couple moments after Kensington reported in to hear a slight recap and what their orders were going to be. Hearing the fact they were going on foot had a different effect on the pilot compared to the others. He for one looked wide awake and in a slight panic due to one fact: he was a helicopter pilot, meaning his experience on the ground was minimal. Regardless, he was willing to give it a shot. "Just like going on leave during a dock, that's all.. Except the immediate danger part." He muttered under his breath as he returned to listening to his commanding officer.

Not before too long everyone was filing out the pilot was sure to get one of those croissants in his greedy hands before he followed suit. Upon entering the armory he saw the fireteam gearing up as well as their squad leader speaking to the doctor. From what he had observed Aidan was more than capable to speak to his patients, but to him it wasn't a talk between patient and doctor but a talk between team member and team member for he wasn't fully aware of her situation. With that thought pushed aside the airman reported to the quarter master and retrieved his handgun along with a few magazines. Ontop of that the wolf also requisitioned a back pack containing some typical medical supplies from tweezers to morphine and epinephrine syringes. One question was in his mind though while he packed the bag: was he ready to be on the ground? It seems like he was about to find out.

It wasn't no surprise the wolf had to change since his abrupt call to arms gave him little to no time to dress up properly. As a matter in fact, he looked almost like he was about to go back to sleeo with the attire he wore. That all was fixed though when he returned to his quarters and quickly dressed out. He had to get the essential fashion selections of course if one considered tan cargo pants and black hooded jacket ontop of his white t-shirt fashion, but he couldn't help but top it off with his signature bandanna around his neck and a dark blue cap on his head with aviators in his pockets. Would he stick out in a crowd? Probably not with his bad selection and his concealed handgun, but something nagged at him, the idea that somehow he will be the one stuck in the middle of it all. There was no time for such a jinx though! It was time to report in and prepare to move out.

Almost everyone was ready by the time Kensington returned to the hangar while adjusting the cap on his head. He did come just in time to hear Silver's comment though and with a moment of hesitation nodded before speaking again. "So.. How we gonna do this pair up?" He asked, his gaze shifting between everyone who was present.

It had only just occurred sometime during the briefing that Martenstown had been his point of entry to Landren. After their escape from Treminia, his ‘family’ could barely make it to the next town, and decided that Martenstown was ‘good enough.’ It helped that people were always coming going—nobody would bat an eye at a few new faces here and there. It stood to reason that his old compatriots would still be in the shipping hub. He entertained the thought of asking them if they knew anything about the princess, but quickly dismissed the thought; they may have been illegal immigrants, but that didn’t mean they were anything else. Still, the chance to surprise the folks with a short visit didn’t sound so bad.

But only if the investigation leads me there. We’re here on a mission, he reminded himself, as he wrapped a plaid, flannel scarf around his neck and made sure his armored vest didn’t show through his clothes.

And as the squad got ready to set out, Kensington arrived with the question of the day. Adrian fussed with his scarf as he glanced at him and said, “I was just about to ask that. Like, do we draw straws?” He turned to look at Silver, after he’d made his suggestion. “Or did you already have something in mind?”

The squad arrived on the ramp with good timing, everyone turning up and looking the part of at least a crew on leave, if not civilians. He also noted with some satisfaction that everyone had done a great job of concealing their weaponry, armour and other gear.
"Okay folks," he said leading them away from the ramp entrance to the hangar, leaving it free for the movement of personnel and vehicles loading and unloading supplies. He drew them up short on the quayside, next to a pile or empty crates and barrels, leaning against them as he spoke. "We're down to pretty uneven numbers," he began. "And we need to keep some force in reserve, in case we get inta trouble. So, here's how it's gonna go. Nathaniel, Naida and Ed will remain behind on the ship with Irry; Irry's GEAR will be armed for close-in support, so it can cover the ATV and a truck to extract us if things go to hell. Which, let's hope they sure as hell don't. He paused to light a cigar, and took a drag off of it before he continued. "Here's how I'm gonna split y'all up. Keel, you're with me. Nawlin, you and Sykes are buddying up. Aihara, Captain Sprinsteam and Maxwell; you form the final team". He paused to look around their faces, his expression set.
"No arguments about the teams; deal with it."
He carried on without missing a beat.
"Aihara, Sprinsteam, Maxwell: you three have the biggest area to cover: the market. Watch out for pickpockets as well as your targets.
"Keel, you an' I will be checkin' out the docks and warehouses. We're gonna have to do a bit of actin' and posin'. Should be entertainin' enough.
"Nawlin, you and Sykes hit the bars an' dives in th' middle of town. Remember: we're tryin' ta pick up the buzz, chit-chat and rumours. Keep an eye out fer anyone who looks out of place... and try not to get drunk, or thrown out.
"Anythin' that might lead us onta any trace of those guys responsible fer th' hit an' run. The data on the drive is what we have to go on: They're an elite Northener unit. They may be undercover as mercs, or civvies. An' we have the suspicion there's that second force too, whoever they are, also hidin' out. Any an' all of them will be lookin' ta stock up on parts, equipment, ammo and fuel. Not to mention intel, and maybe even fake ID's and passes to move between the borders." He paused again, glancing over their heads to look at the roofs of the town stretching away.
"This place is friendly enough on the surface, but it's got a dark underbelly ta watch out for. People who ain't even who we're lookin' for might try an' jump ya - but I know y'all can look after yerselves. There's a lotta rumours in a place like this, an' askin' the right questions will get ya answers. So will being good-natured and favourin' the merchants and hosts, or greasin' the right palms. I made sure y'all have access to a 'special fund' fer the mission, authorised by command, given the stakes involved." he grinned deadpan. "...spend it - we don't get freebies often. But remember, try not to stand out. I also uploaded a couple of well-known less-than-savoury haunts around the area based on info from th' Net an' various other sources. Check 'em out too, but be careful. Remember; keep in regular contact. If any one of the groups misses two consecutive check-ins, the other two converge on their location. Don't fire first, unless it's in self-defence, either. We're armed, but remember - if we can do this without firin' a shot, then we're doin' a damn good job. Nothin' else ta say - let's get to it".
Silverwind dismissed them, and headed toward the exit from the Landcruisers' berth, and onto the wide, dusty street outside. Nondescript warehouses, factories and other industrial buildings formed the bulk of buildings in the immediate area, wide avenues interspersed between them, choked with vehicles, groups of people and roadside stalls or carts selling things or stacked with possessions and items.
The sheer variety of Arvaran species on display was staggering, and the hubbub of voices and noise was constant; not quite enough to be deafening, but certainly a near-constant background rumble of sound, especially this close to the Landcruiser docks.
Bidding goodbyes to the others with a nod, he beckoned for Adrian to follow, as he headed off in parallel to the dockside wall, the buildings on their right-hand side.
"Okay," he said as they walked, glancing between faces and the scenery as he spoke. "There's a shippin' an' handlin' company two blocks down. Intel suggests they tend to be a little involved wi' underhanded deals, an' a front fer smugglin' into the Empire. I reckon we go in, an' make like we're tryin' ta score ourselves a coupla passes, an' see what we uncover. Mebbe one of us acts all keen, and the other reluctant, try and lure 'em inta sayin about previous business?"

***

The Market Place was choked and busy - stalls with food of all kinds were clustered in the middle, many of them cooking their ways for hungry shoppers and browsers, and adding a diverse array of scents and perfumes to the air to mingle with the scents of the patrons and sellers themselves, and all of their wares. Towards the edges and the darker alleys of the market place were the more 'questionable' goods; GEAR parts, electronics, armaments and ammunition, and other such shady dealings. And then there were the people who didn't have stalls, but stood, hands in pockets, around the stalls in shadows and studied people passing by. Occasionally credit details were exchanged, and whispered words, or fleeting data swipes exchanged on battered, black-market PADDs.
Through a momentary gap in the crowd, a large, square-shouldered Black-furred vulpine was seen, moving with two smaller fellows toward one of the GEAR parts traders.

***

Toward the centre of town, the bustle died down. Here, the streets were more regularly paved, the pedestrians confined to the sidewalk, and the vehicles moving at less of a frantic pace through the streets. Shaded doorways to stores and businesses invited people in out of the ever-present Badlands sun and dust. Many of the stores claimed to be boutiques, and sold exotic goods; bespoke hand-tailored clothing, high-end electrical goods, choice foods and drink. Others were fine-dining restaurants, lavish grooming parlours or theatres.
All of this, of course, was on the main drags - on the side roads, things tried to emulate the same class, but had their own layer of grime; titty-bars paraded as 'gentlemen's clubs', and jostled for space with greasy-spoon diners and mystery-meat butchers with stained counter-tops. Pawn shops competed with Porn shops and bars with glass on the pavement that crunched underfoot outside newly-fitted windows. Basement bars with slippery, vomit-stained steps and hulking cybernetically-enhanced bouncers squatted at the bottom of apartment buildings with charming names - and barred doors.
All three of the bars Silverwind had given names of were in the side-streets. One was a Bar-and-grill that looked less likely to be the source of a riot, with its' red formica-topped tables and clean floors. Music played from a jukebox, and the bar was clean. However, the grim nature of the patrons, who clustered in small groups around the tables suggested otherwise. The most interesting feature was a slinky, female mink with military-short hair propping up one end of the bar, reading through a PADD and occasionally glancing up at the overhead screens showing the news.
One of the others was a basement bar that had sweaty walls and a sticky floor, and had an ever-present cloud of smoke hovering near the lights. In the middle, a group of men and woman all clad in similar leather jackets, GEAR-pilot boots, combat pants and vests argued over a game of cards.
The last was an open fronted place that was ariy and bright, with faux-tropical decor, and a vast array of possibly life-threatening decor, and a lot of shady corners, along with a one-eyed, gap-toothed bartender who grinned at them as they walked in.
The most curious thing was the group at the far end of the bar; all of them were strikingly good-looking and fit, despite their rough-and-tumble civilian dress, and they constantly talked in low voices to one another, occasionally glancing around.

"Hopefully it won't be us who'll get pounded. Guess it goes without saying you people should watch your back on the field; if I would carry my kit, I'd might as well put a bull's-eye on my head."

"yeah, wish we had more time to split up a kit." mike mused, "but I got a light med kit, ought to patch a few holes." it was a lie really, despite adding a few tampons into the pack just in case anyone got shot, it was a far cry to what they'd need.

a few moments later, after everyone had shown up, blade started the mission briefing.
"Nawlin, you and Sykes are buddying up" Blade said pointing to them in turn. mike nodded a confirmation as he moved to pair up next to Aiden,
"Recon and Medic?, what could go wrong?" he asked smirking, trying to keep morale up, despite their last skirmish.
"Nawlin, you and Sykes hit the bars an' dives in the' middle of town." blade said, getting back to them.
"Gods no!" mike whispered, putting a fist to his head. "never again"

"Remember: we're tryin' ta pick up the buzz, chit-chat and rumors. Keep an eye out fer anyone who looks out of place... and try not to get drunk, or thrown out."
"Can do sir." mike said, planning his cover, but perked up at "special fund".

"special fund?" he asked. "Any restrictions?...barring contraband of course"

the rest of the brief, was straight forward despite the mission, Find the target, be quiet, don't be afraid to play a little dirty, don't get caught, STAY ALIVE. too soon for his nerves, it was time to leave. checking over his gear one last time, he gestured to Aiden if he was ready, and stepped into the city.

Immediately everything was wrong, the briefing may have covered it, but being in a hostile occupied city, this lightly outfitted, was still jarring. there were too many people, and his ever reassuring hud was missing. The old tensed posture from his child hood returned, core tight, legs slightly bent, hands tightly clenched. he quickly assessed the new surroundings.

"am I in danger?", no. "Am I blending?" he took a quick sweeping glance, and found a varying crowd.
I am close to blending. "what do I need to blend?" relax, be alert, not aggressive....slowly the core loosened a bit, legs straightened into a stride, and thumbs slipped into his pockets. glancing to Aiden, he cocked an eyebrow.

"you up for a game of pool?"

“Alright then, Jack, I call the role o’ Shrinking Violet,” Adrian said, as he patted himself down to make sure nothing was out of place. Among the loud noise of the docks, his ears had turned inward—wearing plugs while on a mission was out of the question, so he simply had to grin and bear it. Using his height advantage to scan the sea of people, by sight, would have been just as conspicuous. He and Silver had to look like just another couple of civilians, and civilians knew exactly where they were headed. After a cursory glance down the blocks, he looked back to Silver. “So—what sorta place are we looking for? You know, other than, ‘it’s blue,’ or, ‘it’s made o’ aluminium.’”

The canine fussed around the ramp, feeling slightly uncomfortable wearing something different than the uncomfortable BDUs and t-shirts issued by the LDF, but at least, he had a source of relaxation from Michael's laid-back attitude; if only he could be as confident on himself like the tiger was, Aidan blamed it mostly on the nature of his profession and his own slightly jumpy personality. He constantly readjusted his sunglasses and his cap, emitting an aura of both anxiety and impatience, something atypical coming from him. Boss finally started to lay out the plan for scouring the city for intel, but first, he had to split the team in three: Adrian would go with Blade to the market place, Es, Ken and Aihara were going together to the market area, leaving him with Michael. Piss. Dicks! swore Aidan in the back of his mind, feeling the immediate urge to cover his mouth not to let the expletives escape from his dirty snout. The sort of pairing Blade decided to go for completely thrown Aidan's plans to keep the whole medication issue a secret affair straight into the sewer; panic was rising, he could definitely feel his blood pressure and heart rate grow to dangerous levels and he needed those two in check to keep a frosty mind during the urban operation. Just as he was about to comment about the colonel's choices, the vulpine made sure that there was no place for rearrangements. And, really now, how were you going to say you don't want to stick with Nawlin, then? Aidan tried not to stare too much neither at the tiger, nor at the feline captain as they all headed out of the landcruiser to approach the city and get down to business. Still, he couldn't help looking at the captain, trying to look for any signs of her emotional breakdown. Even for a tough-as-nails woman like her, such dire news in a completely hostile environment would be too much to handle all alone... but she had him and her team, or, at least Aidan hoped she would try to let some of the tension out to her closer peers. In that moment, he couldn't really do anything useful for her without looking like a complete freak, so, he made sure to remind himself to grab the stuff she needed, even if he had to rob a place or two. Doctor Rocker was Oscar-Mike with doubt in his heart and a clear goal in his mind.

Not much later, he found himself walking down the streets of Martenstown, ignoring the view around him mostly unintentionally; actually, it was a good thing, he wouldn't look like a tourist to anyone by gawping at the surroundings. During the beginning of the trek, the canine didn't say much to the other GEAR pilot, a slight feeling of awkwardness growing in his stomach until he couldn't bear it anymore, so, he had to break the ice. Right before he could open his mouth, Mike spoke first, coming up with a good suggestion; the tiger's voice drew Aidan's attention, blinking at him behind the pair of aviator sunglasses.

"Pool? Ye, I'm game. 'T should help loosening up some more." He then redirected his view over to the corner of the block, suspecting that their target places wouldn't be too far. "Get a couple of beers and a large, greasy burger. Yeah, I didn't have breakfast."

"Alright. Our three objectives should be close en-" too military, you dimwit "-those three good spots to chill should be close enough, just gotta follow the GeePeeEss and we're there. So, uh, how's your family doing, Mi- Mitch?" Smooth.

And like the canine suggested, they reached the location in no time, but once they arrived there, Aidan instantly disliked the side streets; he was now finally on full alert, his eyes darting around his peripheral vision to check for any funny activity. He cleared his throat and took a quick look over the snapshots of the possible target locations, immediately identifying all three of them. And, lucky him, there was also a pharmacy on the same street, which drew most of his attention. He didn't have to think too much about how the two would approach the three locations, but he really had to think of a smart way to grab Es's stuff. He needed a more relaxed mind for such thinking processes, otherwise he would fumble and lose risking his liberty for the next few decades; losing his life would actually be a much easier outcome if things went south in his current state of mind.

"Alright, here we are, Mik-Mitch." Aidan gave the three locales another scan with his eyes. "We need more courage to get down in that basement and there's no pool table over at that targ-uh-terrace there. This one's got a jukebox an' a cute chick. Let's roll"

So, the canine was the first to enter the locale and, although there was a strong voice of doubt somewhere lost in the crevices of his brain, he knew he had to take off the sunglasses in order to appear less suspicious. Thus, he folded the sunglasses and hanged them from one of the upper buttons of his short-sleeved shirt and walked up to the lady mink shifting her gaze up and down, from one monitor to another. Nothing felt right to him: the people, the place, the atmosphere, the sunlight from outside, nothing felt in place, which, made Aidan feel some sort of vulnerability. To compensate for that, he mentally hanged a mask on his own face and tried to play a different role, creating an illusion of courage, confidence and chillness. He felt a slight shot of sharp pain in his left arm, right under the fresh bandage

"Mornin'. I'll have a stout and- yo, Mitch! You want something? Yeah, get him that and two of those Fat Boys, mine with extra mayo and I'll have you any day, sweetheart. Hey, can we borrow the pool table for a couple'a'games? Promise I'll be gentle on it."

It is all for a greater cause, kitten. Or at least, that's what I like to believe.

The moment it was ordered that all but Esailia of the firesquad were staying, both Nathanial and Naida groaned inwardly, turning to go get their normal gear back on. Meanwhile Edward's attention immediately turned to Esailia, not just because he was worried about her health, but how she was going to explain to her partners if she starts coughing up blood in the middle of the market. The whole mission could go FUBAR in a matter of seconds right then.... "Si-" Edward was about to speak up, before being cut off by Silver following his command up with 'No arguments about the teams; deal with it.", causing the fox to sigh and walk back into the crawler with his sister.

Esailia managed to keep a blank expression as her squad was ordered from her command for this mission. She had hoped to use them to search for the medications, but now she'll need to rely more on her old roots of street running when she ran from her father's stuffy mansion. She already had ideas forming as the briefing concluded, walking to gather with Aihara and Maxwell. "I have experience dealing with urchins in places like this, but they won't hit a group. How do you want to work this? I don't want anyone alone." She stated, glancing between the pair, her tail twitching as it usually did when she was forming plans.

"So—what sorta place are we looking for? You know, other than, ‘it’s blue,’ or, ‘it’s made o’ aluminium.’”

Blade grinned and tapped his PADD as he pulled it from its' pouch on his belt. An image of the place they were looking for shimmered to life in the air above the device. It showed a building that, like many of the structures in the area, was built of the local sandy stone. It was relatively non-descript, with a large metal warehouse - much as Adrian had deduced - attached to the rear of the more conventional stone-built office and store-front building. A green sign hung out the front, displaying the name of the trading and logistics company.
"This is the one we're after. Accordin' to the Intel snoops an' their investigatin' on th' 'net, this place is th' registered address fer that company the Landcruiser Ken intercepted belonged to. An' that's on toppa what else we know." He turned a corner, leading them away from the busy port and its' walled enclosures. More avenues of large warehouses and other similar storage structures spread out, with the occasional corner store, coffee shop or other eatery for the workers mingled in. Down some of the longer streets, it was even possible to see where they petered out into the dust of the badlands once more.
"There we go," he said, pointing diagonally across an intersection as a truck rumbled past. Their objective was in sight.
"Okay then," said the fox with a firm nod. "I'll take the lead, an' you follow. We'll have t' try and talk him inta revealin' where the others were headed, and then come up with an exit if it all goes t' tits. We're lookin' fer a group headed from th' North t' Landren or th' south. All right, let's go".
Silverwind crossed the street and pushed open the door. An electronic bell sounded, and a bored-looking capybara behind the desk looked up, raising his eyebrow at the pair as they stepped in.
"Good afternoon, my friend." said Silverwind, affecting a convincing, and completely different thick Northern Empire accent to his normal growly drawl. "I was hoping we might be able to do business, yes? I was directed here by... friends of mine. They came by here a few days ago, a small group of them, all travelling together"
The Capybara folded his arms on the desk, and sat a little straighter. "Business? What kind of business? If you need something hauled or shipped, then we're happy to help. Especially if it's on the recommendation of a previous customer..."
"Well," said Silver, and leaned a little closer, looking around and then beckoning the capybara to lean in as he leant on the desk, the curious man doing so as Silver lowered his voice conspiratorially, glancing around. "You see, my friend and I are interested in travelling somewhere, to meet up with group who were in here a short while ago. We got delayed, you see, and they told us where to meet up with them." The fox put on a puzzled look for a moment as the Capybara drew back, frowning. "I hope we're in the right place. My friend here-" he gestured to Adrian "-has doubts about our journey. We'd hate to have to take our money elsewhere, after making such an effort to gather it all".
The capybara's expression flashed greed for a moment, and he shook his head. "No, no. I'm sure I can arrange something... please," he said gesturing to Adrian. "Why don't you tell me what you're looking for? We'll step into the back office. It's... more secure for this kind of deal..."
The rodent rose from his seat and gestured to them both to step through a door into the rear office of the building. Silverwind lead the way, glancing back out the door, and around the room before stepping through. The smaller room at the back contained several desktop data-slates and office chairs, along with various filing cabinets and cupboards. The Capybara started to shuffle through sheafs of printouts in a drawer, before withdrawing a manila file and placing it on one of the desks. He studied the pair of them, before looking to Adrian.
"So, where was it you were headed again?"

****

In the bar, things had not - thankfully - gone stereotypically. The music had not stopped playing the instant Mike and Aidan had walked through the door, nor had every pair of eyes in the place been on them and all the conversation stopped. Like most bars or pubs, no one had spared them a glance that they'd noticed; after all, most people were there to enjoy themselves.
The mink at the bar glanced up as the pair approached, and then raised an elegant eyebrow as Aidan spoke up, shutting her PADD down with a gesture, the display - which looked like maps and charts of the region - disappearing with a swipe of her long, dainty fingers. She turned her cool blue eyes on the canine and tilted her head before answering in a mellifluous, musically accented voice characteristic of the Republic of Hirona, to the East of Martenstown and the Badlands.
"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" she asked in some confusion. "I think you might want the bartender," she continued, gesturing to a large and portly bear who was leaning on the bar from behind at the other end, polishing a pint glass. The minks' eyes roved over the pair of GEAR pilots, her fingers drumming on the countertop once before she looked over at the ursine, and then back to the pair. "Was there something else I could help you gentlemen with?" she asked after a moment more.

***

In the Marketplace, the hulking vulpine and his companions stopped ahead of the trio from the Roughriders and began to haggle with the owner of the GEAR parts stall. Clearly Imperial accents could be heard as the group got closer to the stall.

"-So, uh, how's your family doing, Mi- Mitch?" Aiden stuttered

mike inwardly winced, and his ears drooped for a moment, before returning to normal. "ah you know, parents asking when ill slow down, get a girlfriend, big sister wanting to know if I'll make it to sally's recital, the normal stuff" mike said, putting his arms in back of his head.
"you know?" he continued. "I loved having to learn the recorder in school and being humiliated on stage, can't wait to be the onlooker this time!" he griped, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

"Alright, here we are, Mik-Mitch." Aiden started, as mike shot him a quick glance.
Aiden, relax, slow is fast. mike thought as they entered the bar.

"This one's got a jukebox an' a cute chick. Let's roll" Aiden finished, seemingly falling into his improvised personal well enough.

"sounds like a good joint to me" mike said following behind, trying to covertly watch his back. as they entered, he watched the short lived pang of unease travel through Aiden's back, right before it hit him.

it was less "something was off" and more "what isn't off?" the patrons didn't seem to be patrons, and the groups were at their largest 5 people, suggesting some form of fire teams? All the TVs hosted various news channels, when bars usually hosted sports. the bar was clean, still smelled of cleanser. But the most obvious red flag, was the fact that in a bar, a female was not only being ignored, but given a wide berth. Either she was everyone's adopted sister, or she was important, the military cut either made her a merc, military, or police.

"-and I'll have you any day, sweetheart."

ಠ_ಠ......................... mike's face fell flat. if we live....imma kill you. mike thought, instantly moving carefully behind Aiden. mike tried not to look to hard at the pad, but thought he saw some chart, or map on it before it blacked out.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" she asked in some confusion. "I think you might want the bartender," she continued, gesturing to a large and portly bear who was leaning on the bar from behind at the other end, polishing a pint glass.
oh boy, there's the main bouncer. mike thought, glancing quickly at the hulking bear. sure, I might take him, but what about the other 20 or so behind us. mike mused.

"Was there something else I could help you gentlemen with?" the mink asked.

"No, sorry" mike interjected on Aiden's behalf, glaring at him. "Dave here tends to talk before he thinks. what he meant was, 'hello, I'm Dave, can I buy you a drink?" mike said, trying to play dumb bar hopper while trying to not get caught in a bar fight. "now Dave, apologize to the lady, while I get our food, provided the owner doesn't through us out" he sighed.

walking up to the bar, he tried not to openly gauge the bar, and instead listened as he waited for the barkeep to take notice.
"Hey, if it's not too much trouble, we'd like to get 2 beers and burgers?" he asked. "also since my buddy Dave is paying, we'd like to pick up her tab, if she allows it." he said.

Maxwell listened carefully to the colonel's directions, his ears carefully trained on the vulpine before everyone separated and formed their respective groups. It wasn't difficult to find one of his respective group members, and when the squad leader stepped forward he stiffened up until she addressed the two. "Uhm.. I haven't been much around the big city, but the LDF has helped with that issue." The airman confessed, masking his his nervousness with a grin even though that had a hint of hesitation. "Wherever you want I'll go."

On the market scene though the senior airman was sure to hold up what he had said. Even with his backpack of supplies he looked like the typical image of a traveler if not a scavenger. If he was the first to spot the targets of interest he would nudge the nearest teamate and glanced over at the group, his tail slowly swaying left to right with a hint of anticipation. "So what you guys wanna buy? I could do with a good meal.. Maybe some pop with it." Maxwell said, his gaze occasionally going over the questionable group if they weren't looking back at him.

Esailia kept quiet for as long as she could, her eyes flicking around at the various people passing through the marketplace, including the vulpine's back as she replied "Take Aihara, go check out the stalls over there." She motions towards the vulpine instead of any stall owners "I'll be around, kay? Going to see if I can't find any provisions for our trip." She barely waited for an answer before heading off, slipping in and around the crowd fliudly, her comrades quickly losing track of her.

Once in the crowd, the feline captain browsed the many stalls of the market, stopping by some and making good conversation with a select few owners. She used similar starting points like being new to the city, asking about tourist income, and casual remarks about how she once saw a couple of machine parts down one street. At the same time, she was visiting stalls that advertized medicinal or herbal remedies, and to these asked where she could find a pharmacy of sorts in the city. Before she left the last of the stalls she visited, she purchased a small cloth sack with a string tie to keep it closed.

With her mingling of the adults done, Esailia made her way to an ATM, punching in the info she had found on her PADD regarding the 'special fund', pulling off a goodly amount of coins. Tossing these into her new coin purse, she tied it to her belt and headed off again in a slow meander, occasionally stopping to check her PADD or to look over a stall's goods. It was an intentional move, as she knew her coin purse was very obvious, and the place she had chosen to casually pass through had a few kids rushing around in the crowds. Now too wait till they noticed a prime target...

The mink's accent and general demeanor did rouse suspicion for the canine, or maybe, he was just too suspicious. But it wasn't only her, it was her PADD too, which had a map displayed moments before she powered the display off in an obvious rush. Again, maybe Aidan was a bit too suspicious; he also had some sort of hunch that told him he hit the jackpot, judging by the shady guys having a very private conversation. He soon found out she was, in fact, not the bartender, which raised a big question in his mind: who is she, then? Definitely, not the owner. The woman did offer to answer further questions, but before he could open his mouth, Michael intervened and tried to pull him out of a possible misunderstanding. The canine threw a befuddled look at his tiger colleague as he basically spoke for him, then, rushed over to the bartender to order the goodies. Who the fuck is Dave- oh! Wow. I do kinda' look like a Dave, I suppose Aidan thought while he followed Mike with his eyes as he tried to defuse the rather awkward situation. True, the canine didn't open the conversation very intelligently, but it was enough to have them noticed; eavesdropping won't be enough for the task, the boss did say they should snoop around. Aidan wanted to do that exactly, a wind of some sort of crazy courage hoisting him to open his mouth again.

"Well, I apologize for whatever, but let's cut to the chase." He started, his eyes shifting from Mike to the group of people hanging in the bar at the table. He leaned in closer to the woman and murmured in a dire tone.

"You've got LDF coming to Martenstown, they'll arrive in approx. two hours and they're ready to sweep. Don't ask who we are, just know we're here on the behalf of a partner interested in your "cargo's" security. Look, we don't have time for doubts and suspicions, by the time you contact boss and play stupid with us, you'll have a couple o'cruisers rake the city for 'em. I can give you the cruiser locations, that and the escape vehicles. We keep playing dumb for now, eat, drink, then we roll. We get out, you follow us, I'll mark everything on your PADD and we leave the city stat."

It was a huge bluff and Aidan instantly regretted. This plan would either work, either get them killed, or, he just made a fool of both of them in front of a, more or less, legit civilian. Should she and the others be genuinely concerned, they would heed his warning, or at least, that was what Aidan hoped for. He left the woman and refrained from looking back as he headed towards the pool table, where he started to arrange the balls and prepare the pool cues. When Mike did come to him, Aidan ignore any reproach from him and pulled him closer so he could whisper in full secrecy.

"Look, I've just planted a bluff. I learnt this stuff from- uh, a spec ops acquaintance. They think two landcruisers are headed to town and we have an escape convoy for them and the HVTs. We'll know if they're the guys we're looking for: if we get kicked out, or get in a brawl, it ain't them; if they follow us as we exit, it means they took the bait. Look, from all of the locales, this place is our best shot, the other two are too obvious and grimy to hide anything the military would be interested in. Also, we can't just sit and try to listen to their talk, you can imagine our guys would keep their mouths shut with us fooling around. We see what happens, but for now, play dumb, eat and drink, but try to trust me on this one. If shit hits the fan, I'll buy you as much booze as you can handle."

The courage faded and panic took over again, not knowing what to expect from these people; the possible consequences from his thinking could be dire, but he was used to taking such high risks due to his career. Now, he could only wait.

Your move.