"To be fair," Cyne began as he came from behind Gerad and joined his squad mates, "we did sign through the liability and responsibility segment of the deal. That one's on us for agreeing to pillage a vessel for a mystery prize."

Cyne made his way around the table and took his seat and dealing himself a hand of cards. He then eyed Silas only briefly, "we're not doing that again unless we're charging interest. But honestly, I'd rather not run any further Hive-related jobs for a long while."

If it can be helped, that is. His eyes finally laid on the content of his card-filled hand and silently observed the numbers and characters in his position. An intrigued expression soon manifested upon his face, his left brow raising and a half-grin pushing into his right cheek.

Silas tried to study Gerad as he looked at his cards. Like always the Monkey had a good poker face, for the most part but he had a tell. It was the mention of the Hive that riled everyone up and for good reason too. "Sorry Gaz, I'm with these guys, only way I'm facing those things again is if there is a big old bonus involved. Besides we already have our next job lined up, the others are getting us a good lead as we speak. And I'm sure you'll have more than enough skulls to smash with the next one." Silas answered studying Cyne as he sat and joined in on the hand. Cyne was another hard one to read, but years of working with someone and you learn to read their tells, or at least that is what Silas kept telling himself as he raised the bet. By the time the round was over Silas lay down a full House using his 3 of hearts and Queen of spades with the two threes and queen in the river. (cards in river 1 of diamonds, 3 of spades, 3 of diamonds, 7 of clubs, Queen of hearts) Silas would continue the card game for a while ending the night loosing 1000 credits but it was worth it to give his team some rest.

After the cards Silas would make his way back to his quarters and get back to the work portion of his job after checking his E-Mails Silas gave a grin.

"-S

Looks like the Horsemen are gathering together for some meeting. Something big might be going down, but this might be our only chance to hit all four of them at once. I'll be sending you their position as soon as I confirm it, but it will be going down in three days. Will give you what info I have when you arrive.

-L"

Finally Lito had come through, but taking on all four horsemen wasn't going to be an easy task. after a bit of thought Silas came up with a bit of a supplement to their newly vacated spot. And began to wright some mail of his own.

"Ducaelia,

A little birdie told me that you had Jason Madlock of the Four Horsemen on your list. Well it just so happens that my crew has a job to hunt down the Four Horsemen. I know you are good, but these guys are under serious guard, so how about you give up that Solo Carrier and join up with us. We have a bit of a lead on the Horsemen and I'll even give you a cut of this jobs pay on top of the bounty you'll collect. Give it some thought and when you decide to join us we will be at the usual place on Noctus IV

Silus"

With that sent Silas decided to take a nap for the remaining duration of their trip, baring the ship didn't decide to tear itself apart.

@Arthanus

"huh, huh...get away from me!"

A common thug was running down alleys on a backwater planet's largest city. He had a basic ballistic weapon, but he was not the predator here. It was raining, and that made things harder on a nitrogen based planet. He ran under every cover he could, and tried to knock things in the way of his hunter. She had different ideas.

Ducaelia Voes'Corum was the hunter tonight, but this was small game compared to her main prize. She had been snooping through bars and clubs for days, and finally she got something. But as soon as the claws came out, he ran faster than a Gedloosk. It had been a game for cat and mouse for a little bit, but he was tiring, while she wasn't. She could go for hours more, but she needed to end this now. She jumped down in front of him, knocking him on his rear. He scampered backwards but she pulled her wrist up faster than he could blink. "Move, and there'll be nothing left to play with." She got closer and activated her claws. She then grabbed his left leg and gripped hard, digging her claws in. He screamed in agony. "Now, where is Madlock? And if you lie, the pain gets worst. Don't talk, and it gets worst. Now, tell me, and like mommy, I kiss the pain away." The thug's eyes were full of terror, and he stuttered to get it out. "He-he-he'll k-k-kill me if I-I told ya'!" She made a mechanical hissing noise and got in his face, lights all a menacing red color. "Tell. Me. Now. OR DIE HORRIB-" *bloop* She smacked her face in annoyance. "F*** it. You're too much of a coward anyhow." She then shoved her claws into his chest and pierced his heart and lungs. His screams were silent, and he died on the spot. She got up and quickly got out of there.

---

On her small ship, she read the message from Silas. She immediately thought of all the fun things she would get to do by joining up with him and his little gang. The mercenary work was mostly for money, but sometimes she enjoyed the lawlessness, the lack of following a higher order than your own. But it was lonely. Maybe joining up wasn't a horrible idea. Plus, Silas' expression on their first meeting was priceless. She rubbed her chin than began to type.

Dear Silas~,
That birdie told you right. Madlock has caused a lot of issues for a local governing body, and I took the job. But if you're also looking for the Horsemen, and need a little...help, I'll gladly oblige. Just don't become stunned again, or I'll put another card in you're mouth, and this one for a different reason~.
Sincerely, Ducaelia Voes'Corum

She sent the message and went to her helm. She set the coordinates for Noctus IV and then went to her quarters. "Now for me time..." and she flopped onto the bed(mostly for her guests) and plugged into the ship's systems. She had a small ride to go.

He was glad to hear neither Silas nor Cyne were hot on going after more Hive; some humans had the annoying habit of getting involved in fights that weren’t theirs. Turning his full attention to his hand, he attempted to see if he could do anything with the dung he’d been dealt.

-x-x-

By the time he called it quits he was pours good credits after bad. At one point he’d been up quite high, having won nearly half of Silas’ money and a good part of Cyne’s, before a couple of bad hands, a called bluff and a healthy dose of sheer bloody minded-ness cost him all of that plus his own buy-in. With and annoyed grunt he stepped away from the card game and headed for the ship’s engineering spaces. As he walked he began to sing an old Militia war chant to pass the time.

Cyne sat at the table, alone after Silas and Gerad retired for the rest of the evening. Cards laid strewn about the flat surface in messy collections where their holders previously occupied while a row of winning cards and a pile of credits was amounted on Cyne's end. He leaned back and grinned, satisfied in his winnings and his efforts after being dealt a harsh and costly blow by Gerad earlier on. The set back was not easy recovering from.

The room grew quite once everyone left, leaving himself and his own thoughts as his company. Peering to his left, he could see a row of screens emulating accelerated space just beyond the six meters of internal infrastructure, hull, and armored plating that separated him from the outside as if they were windows. Specks of white; distant stars whose light managed to be captures during their FTL transit, streaked by as blurred lines in contrast to the blackness that emplaced their surroundings. Checking his watch, it was nearly ten minutes to midnight; per the galactic standard time anyway. It was only recently that he had gotten used to the time schedule for space travel versus the schedules for the many different planetary cycles of worlds he'd visited.

Seeing as there was little for him to do, he gathered his winnings and retired to his quarters, where he would attempt to drift off to sleep and hope to be unconscious for more than 12 hours all the while mentally grappling with himself to silence the inhuman screaming that still lingered.

With the rest of the crew off in their quarters Gaz was left alone with only the hum of the engines for companionship. He moved to the table the others had been playing on and moved two chairs next to each other to support is large posterior. With his thick fingers he carefully picked up the deck of cards and began to put them face up on the table. The sheer size of his heads meant he could just about fit an entire playing card on his finger tip. That made things difficult for him but if he was going to fit in, he should probably get used to it. While he talked a big game and lived a gore ridden existence he did hope for some level of companionship. Who was he meant to get one up on if he had nobody else around? That thought was the moment he realised he, like most others creatures of the universe, needed friends.

He continued to place cards on the table face up, dealing them out across the table as if he had joined in. He looked down at what would be his hand and compared it to the other three hands. "Urgh! Deez ain't da same!" In front of him were the queen of hearts and ten of hearts. He looked out across the table at the others spotting two pairs, one of which was two aces. "Argh!" He then began to put the first three community cards face up on table. Jack of hearts, king of hearts, ace of hearts. What followed next was the throwing of the cards across the room. "SCREW THIS GAME!" As the cards floated to the ground through the air Gaz left the table and headed to his quarters sulking and stomping his feet.

The Legion's End ripped back into real space, busting out of the yoke that was its extinguishing warp bubble and settling into reality once more. The vessel was bathed in the bluish light of Noctus' star, revealing the small dents and scraps it had incurred through its mad getaway from Poseidon's Belt. If the ship could speak for itself, it would have question her crew's idea scuttling a doomed vessel. Granted, it was most likely the same opinion Sven would have gave as well. The Ascended Vandrell had almost seemingly locked himself within the Legion's End's bridge running innumerable hull damage and system diagnostic scans for the entire vessel. Although, perhaps 'locked in' wouldn't be the right term seeing as Cyne would often drop by quite frequently and track the local transmissions. Both were somewhat paranoid in their own ways; Sven in regard's the ship's condition while Cyne dutifully listened in for any trouble that could have been coming in their way.

Their last op was had nearly put them into the sights of everyone in-system searching for the SSA Balrog were it not for Gerad's catastrophic hyperspace bomb covering their escape; and nearly killing them too. Thankfully, communications going out of the system had not spread like wildfire as Cyne was anticipating and gave him, and perhaps the rest of the crew calming clarity that they were not under any scrutinizing gaze of any large political powers. Not like they were already within the attention and interest of a few, of course.

The main turbothrust engines of the Legion's End boomed and propelled the ship forward and begun closing within and past three-hundred thousand kilometers of Noctus IV. While Cyne had voice his opinions to Silas regarding their already assured safety from the SSA and KOT forces, the head of the ship and crew still opted to make their way to the surface to unload and resupply. They already had another job lined up and it was time sensitive that they met the parameters for catching their quarry. While considered a hideout due to no lawful regulation from any of the major powers in-system, it was still nevertheless a place many of their contacts tended to do business at. Cyne on the other hand, while accepting the purpose of the world, had grown to detest it. The soldier mentality had been hammered deep into his skull and Cyne made little effort hiding his contempt of the lowlifes that made up a chunk out of Noctus IV's population. It was unfortunate, for Cyne, and convenient, for Silas, that many weapon dealers they did business with were on world.

Even before the Legion's End exited hyperspace, Silas had woken earlier than usual and was currently fueling his croggy brain with doses of caffeine. He had spent much of the morning, or what was considered 'morning' by galactic standard time, making calls to many of the his contacts for when the ship landed. They were not staying long for sure and it was only enough time to restock and drop off any cashable dead weight like Macklyn's ship before jumping to their next job. Surprisingly, he already had a buyer for the vessel after an hour of posting the sale on the planetary market and the offer nearly double what he had thought was profitable enough to get rid of it. It was only unfortunate that contacting the dealers and arranging a meeting with them to restock and sell the unclaimed wares wasn't as easy. It was a nuisance actually and even not as profitable in the case of waving a few hundred more credits as encouragement and interest just to have the dealers to even consider showing up. And then there was the arrangement with Ducaelia...

Thirty minutes later, the Legion's End had broken through Noctus IV atmosphere and made way to Silas' paid-for-landing-pad. It was an investment he himself was still hesitant about but thus far, managed not to financially explode in his face given the high upkeep and maintenance of the large facility he was supposedly paying only a small percentage for. It was likely evident that he didn't like the manager of the landing strip. Sven, smooth as ever, vectored the armed freighter into a clean incline and turned and settled the Legion's End into its steel nest.

"...and we have touch down." Sven reported before twirling his pilot seat toward Silas whom stood over him, "so just to make sure I'm on the same page, how long are we expected to stay parked here? I could sure use the time to-"

"Three hours," Silas interrupted as if he knew Sven wanting to take the careful time in repairing their scrapped vessel, "after that we're out of here. It'll take more than a half a day to jump to Precolis and I'd rather not fancy are marks getting away."

Sven frowned and was awkwardly silent until Silas broke though with a sigh, "if it makes you feel better, I can have a nano-remedy cleaning done while we're docked."

It was quite obvious that the crew were still sour about their last gig ending as it did with far little income being obtained for it as well. His promises of paying for their loss was certainly being taken advantage of to some degree. "Under my supervision." Sven added, accepting the his offer although his stern expression held strong.

@CaptainSully@Athol

With that out of the way, Silas took his leave and made his way to the hanger. As he arrived, he found that Cyne, Gerad, and Gaz were already on site, overseeing the large cargo shutters unfold and exposing the Legion's End's hanger to the outside. Maintenance crews, or what looked like orderly workers anyway, some of them looking gruff and greasing, roamed around the pad securing the ship and refueling it. Silas could already imagine Sven watching each of the personnel going about their tasks through ship's many external visual sensors. They did land one a scum hideout after all. Although Silas personally had to admit, the world didn't exactly deserve the reputation it had received. not all of it however.

"Alright boys, gather around," Silas announced to his team mates within the hanger, "as I mentioned before, we're not staying here long. Not this time. If you have any errands to run I suggest you'd do it now before we leave in the next three hours. We got a job to do."

Silas then produced his personal datapad from one of his internal pockets and dialed a few finger taps, "as promised, I'm paying for your resupply and contacted a few dealers to get you what you need. They shouldn't give you any crap this time; I've made sure of that and I'll be damned if they don't their end of the bargain."

He then turned to Cyne whom already manifested a livid expression, "I'll leave you here to oversee Macklyn's ship and our are unclaimed loot to be sold off. Don't worry, I already got the your ammunition coming in. Should be here in the next...twenty minutes."

Cyne narrowed his eyes at Silas but eventually sighed and accepted the terms, "Alright. I'll make sure no one pulls anything. Where will you be going?"

Silas had only taken just a few steps before turned hit attention back to his sniper, "Doing some, 'catching up'."

---

@Dealdric

Silas had forgotten how busy Noctus IV's main hub was. Although busy may not be a proper term to use and main hub was more or less a town rather than a bustling city. Much of the districts were rather rundown with only some form of law enforcement present, mainly trying to crime at least under tolerable control and not out of hand as it was in the past. That of course was before some syndicates took the unexpected approach of applying some form of regulation to keep the once lawless region stable and to ensure business was viable without the local gangs plowing into everyone's business. Never the less, the not-denizens still carried their personal tasks through the streets. Some arrived and exited out of several local consumer establishments that were fortunate not to have been run out of town. Several of those said syndicates often required those business owner to pay them a protection to keep gangs and other crime lords off them.

He eventually arrived to a notable district played host to a surprisingly well-kept fountain at its center. It was rather unusual for such a construct to show no signs of decay or even damage from abusive thugs. It was kind of an odd and yet pleasant feeling when compared to much of the rustic theme of the planet. Pedestrians usually rested for a bit, seating on the many stone platforms that surrounded the fountain. The place he'd arrived to was usually a neutral place, mainly for meetings or personal interests. Surprisingly, no one bothered each other here. It was as if there was an unwritten rule that forbade the causing of trouble within this part of the district.

Silas eventually claimed one of the stone platforms for himself and eased his back atop it and waited as he peered into the light-greenish skies.

Gerad had spent the rest of his time either working on his gear, or just tinkering in the Legion’s End machine shop. One of his ongoing projects was an ignition catalyzer for the main engine; he was certain he could boost the efficiency over the old ones the ship was using, but Sven had barred him from doing anything to the ship without his approval, going to far as to set up monitor programs to make sure of that, while at the same time ignoring Gerad anytime he tried to push the issue…and all because one time, not long after joining, he blew a main power relay and left them all adrift for a few hours…the panel should have been marked more clearly.
--
After touch down, Silas gave them the rundown and timeline for their pit-stop on Noctus IV. ”Ta Boss,” Gerad replied as Silas transferred the promised credits to everyone. ”Be back in riky-tik time.” Once again in his armour he set off into the city, using a map download as a guide. While he generally had little use for ‘Free Ports’ like this, he did appreciate the lack of Customs while on a time crunch; most non-Garundin ‘civilized’ planets were a bit hesitant about letting someone as armed and armoured walk about.

As it was, he merely stumped away from the dock to an auto-cab and got in, setting the map for one of the larger arms bazaars. A few minutes later the dilapidated, but serviceable, speeder set down near the bazaar. Vendors were selling everything from easily concealable hold-out guns to shipboard main batteries…though from what Gerad was seeing on his armour’s sensors, some of those weapons were just barely stable piles of scrap.

Winding his way past vendors of all sorts, he made his way to his destination, an old cargo shuttle near the back, which had long ago been parted out of all its flight worthy components. Over the main cargo door was a sign, that in several common languages, simply said ‘Weapons’. Stepping through the hatch way, the crowded space inside had a few display pieces, but very little floor space as the counter was right close to the hatch.

The proprietor was another garundin, though wearing a slightly older model of Militia armour. “Oi Militia, what ya need?” They called out as they saw Gerad. ”Oi Shoppie.” He said in greeting. Crossing the tiny space, they reached out to one another and each grasped the other’s Main hands before touching their helmets together. ”Gerad, ‘lancer now, no been Militia since th’ Trylin Failure.” There was an old hurt there, but it was a familiar pain that Gerad knew how to bear. “Tevan,” The shop owner replied, a whisper of pheromones through his armour filters said ‘female’. “Ancestors keep you.”

”Preciate, Tevan.” He replied, greeting and sympathies exchanged, Gerad got to business. ” ‘eard ye were th’ bes’ shoppie on dis rock fer true kit.” Tevan smiled, her teeth bared in amusement. “Truth dat is, wat ye be lookin’ fer, ‘lancer-boy.”

”Ionize fer my PRP ‘sall I really need. 100 rems should be tik.” He replied. “Youngblood easy dat is,” Tevan said, tapping a few keys on a stand-alone console. “Tell ye wat, 2500 for th’ ionize, an’ I’ll toss this in.” Ducking below the counter for a moment, she came back up with a complete lensing array from a Militia VLA. “My 602 is all spic, an’ I wouldn’ trus’ this lotta cloud-lookers with tech this shiny… ‘side you been th’ firs’ o’ th’ People in me shop in cycles.”

Gerad stared at the array. At first he’d been all set to haggle Tevan down a bit, 2500 was a bit steep for 100 rems of ionizing medium, but the array…unless he was way off, it was much newer than what he had. That said, he was a tad jealous that Tevan had a 602 series VLA; in the Militia the 602s had a near-legendary reputation for power and reliability, and any good Militia Trooper was more than willing to trade some the newer models versatility for a 602. Needless to say those that did get one hung onto it for dear life.

”Dat, Shoppie Tevan, is a might fine offer,” He said after a moment. ”An’ I’d be Ancestor’s Damned if I said nay.” Tevan rumbled in laughter and set to working up the order. After a farewell, Gerad stepped out of the old shuttle with a canister of ionize and a shiny new lensing array that he was really looking forward to playing with. Back out in the bazaar, he made his way around, just in case there was something else interesting there.

Ducaelia was shaking the trader like a magic eight ball, with such fury that anybody human would not still be conscious. This man however was an Ascended Vandrell like her. But he had a small and dirty frame. He had touched her, and no one touched her without suffering. She slammed him on the counter, and let him fall to the floor. She jumped over the counter quickly and elegantly, landing on him with her claws out.
"You gonna apologize? Or is my claw gonna add a nice scar to your chassis?" She put her index claw closer to his optic for enforcement of this idea. "Alright I'm sorry! Just don't hurt me! I already owe enough to the local boss anyhow, and I don't need another mechanic bill!" he squealed. Although they were more or less the same species, she showed him some empathy. Plenty of times she had come back from jobs with a damaged limb or system, and those repair bills racked up if you didn't know how to do it yourself or had a friend do it for you. Personally, she had invested in her ships automated repair system for her chassis, but not all mercenary and non-citizen Vandrell had that option. Most could do it themselves, but plenty couldn't. And those that could had a damage limit before they needed help.
She got up off the weaselly clerk and helped him up, then knocked him back down. She walked around the counter and leaned on it. "Now, do you know anything about the Horsemen's current operations?" The clerk got up and shook his head as if shaking off a daze. "Not really, but I heard this district's boss might know where they get new crewmen for their ships. I suggest being nice and asking him." Ducaelia left once she heard a beep. Guess my business partner is here.

---

Ducaelia watched Silas enter the plaza and sit. She had waited patiently. She came out of her little hiding spot and walked over him, sitting on the platform next to him. "Tick tick tick. Our prey's on the move. We don't want the deer to slip by, do we~?" she purred. Silas was one that she found curious, and she was going to see how he did. She crossed her legs and put her arms to her side. "I think Madlock's wise to my chasing him. It's made the hunt so much more fun~. Now Silas, what are your plans for Madlock and his rabble? Something horrible, or something worse?"

Silas turned to the just-arrived Ducaelia with faint grin, "No, no. That we don't."

Ducaelia emanated a kind of captivating mannerism, all though her motions and the way she spoke brought out a form of sly contentedness. It made Silas wonder at times if her behavior was that of a charming and beguiling nature or if it was an honest complexion of hers. Her card trick she pulled on him the first time they’d met still resonated a strong reminiscence.

"Madlock and his crew don’t have an ‘alive’ requirement on contract and sure as hell not in any of their bounties. Everyone wants them off the face of the universe. That being said, nothing dramatic I'm afraid. I'm perfectly satisfied with putting a bullet into each of those bastard's heads. Right between the eyes," Silas only briefly glanced at the slender Vandrell, immersing into her posture and expression, "However, if the circumstances call for a bloodier demise... Well, whom am I say otherwise?”

With the point having been made and with their meeting essentially completed, he was eager to get back to the Legion’s End, "The clock is ticking, as you’ve put it. We're on a time table and I do not plan on letting our gathered quarry to get away."

---

"What are you trying to pull?! You call that, a cleaning?"

Cyne glared at a frightened Maklata technician while holding the small and meek alien native up by his collar and pinning him against the innerior hull of the Legion’s End. The Maklata as they were called, are a native species to Noctus IV and were first, and unfortunately, discovered by space-faring pirates. The rat like aliens typically only stood at a bipedal height of over four feet tall with some exceptions of their species reaching five feet. It is unknown to most newcomers of Noctus IV if the Maklata’s hunched-over posture was natural to their kind before the pirates came or it that was the result of their enslavement and poor treatment. Whatever the case, the species currently were seen as push overs with only a small chunk of the Maklata on Noctus IV leading successful lives. Successful however for the Maklata’s could feasibly be measured to their adopted honesty or lack thereof.

The unfortunate rat in Cyne’s tight grip has been caught by Sven, gimping out on a nano-remedy job that Silas has requisitioned upon arrival. The job entailed using a carbon-based mass condensed into a hexagonal form where a grey, chrome-appearing solution was then applied, in this case the Legion’s End’s hull, via a nozzle that coats a layer of the goop onto the armored surface. Any scrapes or gouges that were dug into the hull were quickly filled and the solidified through a mass-conversion process, melding and integrating the substances with the surface. The outcome resulted in in the apparent vanishing of any damage that had been seemingly dealt. Like a brand-new finish. And the Maklata attending to this task only applied a sliver of what should have been applied to have the intended effect. Sven most of all was furious about the lackluster effort and siced Cyne on the alien rodent before he could scamper off

"We gave you job; paid you in full, and we expect you to fulfill it," bellowed Cyne as he drove his angry face close to the quivering Maklata. The alien, unsurprisingly due to their rat-like appearance, also smelled like one. Cyne was disgusted and it showed though his irritated expression, making him all the more angrier, “so I suggest you get your rear back on that machine and do it all over again. Correctly. Got it?”

The Maklata frantically shook his head up and down, too scared to squeak a word of confirmation. Satified, Cyne released his grip and pulled back in one swift and cool motion. The alien fell to the floor on its rear, peeping a grunt before flying off to complete his work proper. Cyne narrowed his eyes at the shaken Maklata before taping the comms, “yeah, he got the message."

"Anything I miss?"

Cyne swung around to find Silas standing only several feet behind him, "Nothing much, other than that gremlin trying to undercut a job. That should be now handled; at least the shipment went smoother. Gerad is due to be back soon last time he reported in. Not sure where Gaz is though. He hasn’t been responding."

Silas sighed, "how much longer until the cleaning is done?"

"About another hour?" Cyne finally then noticed Ducaelia standing beside his boss. Suddenly, he then knew what Silas had meant earlier, “oh, hi Ducaelia.”

"In that case, once we're spiffy-lookin' again, we're departing; with or without Gaz."

It was rare that Cyne was ever caught off guard verbally. He simply blinked, genuinely surprised regarding that last remark, "that's… surprisingly blunt. Harsh even. Even for you, boss."

It was no surprise that Silas, despite being capable embracing a hard and commanding demeanor, it had a soft spot for his comrades-in-arms. Abandoning his teammates was something he wouldn’t tolerate. Not to anything doing it or himself for that matter. The no-man-left-behind attitude was engraved into his mentality, not only as a former SSA soldier but as a fellow mercenary as well. However, the circumstances were now different, and it was hard for him to accept this act as an exception, regardless if it was being casted against unpopularly labeled individual in the group, "We're on a time table Cyne, and I will not waste it on a goose chase. I've went over our mission schedule and we're cutting it close as is."

Cyne simply stared at Silas before turning back towards his post, “Yessir."

---

As it turned out Gaz never came back and not a word from him either. Mixed feelings filled the ship regarding this strange fact. Some were pleased about the Fungai’s unannounced departure while others were, perhaps not saddened, but were left pondering about the new vacancy and the loss of undeniably powerful asset to the team. Maybe Gaz felt that his time was best served against the Hive. It would’ve made sense given his eagerness to fight them once more. Nevertheless, he was gone now and with is unattendance, the simply had to adapt now. Just like always.

The trip to Precolis took about a few hours less than Silas had previously anticipated. Good. Despite carefully planning out the operation, it was good that these, pleasant, miscalculations occurred to serve his agenda better. This only meant that they didn’t necessarily have to hastily kill their targets but instead, plan out which to kill first.

"Aaaaaannnd we're here.” Sven timely stated just as the Legion End emerged back into real, “about twenty minutes before we land. Just hoping those resistance guys down there have a decent landing zone for us."

Precolis was originally an independent world, and a successful one at that. That was until the Apocalypse showed up and made the Precolis government, now dismantled and gutted, regret not having sided with any of the more powerful and influential interstellar powers. Each of the ‘Four Hoursemen’ had carried out numerous operations all over the planet, each eroding the government and its society in done to the core; each in their own sickening way. Apparently one of the four, War, as Korman Deval went by, approached the Precolis government with a security contract offered through the use of his personal PMC, albeit under a different name. After arranging several extortions and shifting accusations onto regional military leaders and senators, Death; Jason Madlock descended into the scene resulting in the sudden disappearances and deaths of many politicians, further destabilizing governing control and influence over the regional districts. Then came Pulov Gorcht, know as Famine, introducing a new wave of narcotics into the streets of Procolis unopposed as the planetary government a century before had managed to purge drugs almost completely from society. And finally, Conquest, Sheva Lasminee, sent forth her forces to cause anarchy and claim Procolis’ citizens as part of here ever-growing slave trade.

It was no wonder why there were so many bounties posted foe the Horsemen’s heads.

"Right, better were get this over with now while we got some time left," said Silas before he exited the bridge and assembled the team at the hanger.

Once everyone had assembled, Silas summoned up a holovid, showing the virtual busts of each member of the Apocalypse criminal syndicate with each face following a long list of crimes and specialties, “We got four marks this time, each with a personal army of crooks and mercs at their disposal. Typically, these Horsemen tend to operate separately, usually causing their own form of chaos right after the other before moving on to another target. As it so happens, they have a scheduled meeting on this very world, within the same city; right where we want them.”

Silas then dialed a command into the holovid control, causing the virtual screen to shift into the at of a city map with an array of nodes indicating the location of each syndicate member, “the problem we have however is that we can’t hit them all at the same time, not when they are congregated and have all of their forces combined. Instead, we’ll be aiming to eliminate each member one by one. Normally this too would also be risky however we have been given the guarantee by local resistance members that communications between each organizational head will be cut to avoid suspicion and allowing us to keep the Horseman right where we want them.”

“With that said, now we have to chose which one to kill first,” Silas attention then shifted to Ducaelia, “since some of us are not to well versed with the syndicate other than what has been reported, would it be kind of you to introduce us to Jason Madlock?”

Ducaelia was going to let Silas take the wheel, but allowing her to explain some of the details kinda pleased her. She got up and stood next to Silas. "It would be my pleasure. Now, you boys might remember me from an earlier contract, in which I killed your employer after he payed you~." She walked around the boys while she activated a holo-projector. She rubbed Cyne's shoulder before walking back to Silas. "Now, I've been chasing our current prey for a month now, in particular Death. His forces are smallest of the horsemen, but the most lethal. Horsemen ship crews however are rumored to be ill-experienced in combat of any form, and I have some conformation of that after chasing one of War's scouting vessels." She seemed to get a little mad when she said that. She activated one of her claws an began scratching at her other hand's fingers, as if filing them. "Madlock himself is very lethal, anyone he want's dead dies, even if by his own hand. But he and the horsemen have gotten lazy lately. They've left witnesses, many being former syndicate members alive. I believe that having others do their dirty work has caused that. She pulled a data-pad out of one of her pouches. She unlocked it by showing a symbol on her hand, which sh quickly hid. "Now I don't have much on the others but rumors, so if you want more info on them I suggest looking around on this rock. Everything I do have will be transferred to your ship. Anything to add Silas~?"

Not finding anything else of particular interest in the market, Gerad headed back to the ship and promptly disappeared into the ship’s machine shop to begin installing his new toy.

Absorbed as he was in his work, he barely paid any attention to what was going on around him, save when a harried looking Maklata tried to enter the machine shop. It hadn’t noticed him as it rushed in, and unfortunately, it jostled Gerad just as he was doing some fine tuning. He sent the little rat-like sapient running with a string on invectives that by all rights should have melted the decking.
-
Now he ‘sat’ in the briefing room as Silas and their newest hire, Ducaelia, covered the mission brief. Hmmm, ‘nother Vandrell; He thought, not for the first time. Meyb’ THIS one’ll let me take a peek at th’ tech…meyb’ ask after.

He’d only been partially listening to the brief, but when some of the words finally clicked, he let out a low whistle. ” ‘Pocalypse you say? Seen a bit on ‘em just ‘fore I mustered outta th’ Milita.” He smiled a bit before rumbling with a small chuckle. ”Never got stompy wit’ ‘em m’self but I know they was pok’n ‘bout some o’ da solo systems to the Great Tribes ‘south’…last I heard Mr. Death there got his fingers burned ‘bout a year after I got out.”

Silas silently watched while Ducaelia circled the group and presented her piece on Madlock. Cyne meanwhile had established a stiff and orderly posture since the beginning of the meeting and was presumably unfazed even after the Vandrell stepped closely around him. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes on her.

After Ducaelia settled back into the fold, Silas briefly turned his attention to Gerad, "Perhaps, but regardless he shouldn't be underestimated. Neither should his own league of assassins either."

Silas paused for a moment before pulling a holographic map of a city, with displayed colored borders representing the control for each Horsemen as well as the know battle lines as well.

"From what intel that was gather for this job, he'll have many of his "Ravens" scattered around the City of Duran. The resistance on ground had already lost many of their fighters to his assassins so we should certainly keep our eyes open. Things are likely to get dicey quick once they pounce. On the other hand, Ducaelia is right, his personal force wills till be relatively small so, 'Death' will not have much protection around him. The same unfortunately cannot be said about the other Horsemen..."

Numerous dots then appeared on the map, showcasing the number of troops, defensive positions, and mechanized assets at the control of each Horseman.

"Korman Deval, Pulov Gorcht, and Sheva Lasminee are known to surround themselves with many of their soldiers so they will not be as eacy to reach unlike Jason Madlock. This however could not be more true with Deval. While Gorcht's and Lasminee's forces are mainly thugs, his are professional and far more organized than the rest. Reaching him will prove the most difficult." Silas scanned the map, sighing as he did so, "I don't doubt our abilities but in all honesty, now that he has high jacked Precolis' military assets and even leveraged personnel into his unit, brute forcing our way to him with be nigh impossible. Our best way to getting rid of him will be to avoid contact with his troops and bypass his defenses 'til we're right on top of him. Intelligence of the area as well as information gathered by the resistance indicate two possible ways to reach him."

"Deval had decided to fortify the manor of an ousted and now deceased politician but apparently, he has yet to figure out that the former resident has designed a complex sewer network under the manor that also served as backdoor in case of escape was necessary. We could use this network to bypass his PMC troops altogether," Silas then pointed new a continuous dashed line that joined War's and Conquest's territories, "alternatively, Lasminee has a supply line where slaves are loaded and transported throughout the city for forced labor. Once such line pushes past Deval's defense line and is lightly guarded. If we could compromise one of her transports, that'll get us within reach of Deval also. Speaking of Lasminee..."

"Her's and Gorcht's forces as mentioned are nothing but immoral thugs - did I say they were immoral? Lasminee's cruelty knows no bounds and there have been many disturbing reports of unwilling slaves either being used as shields or even mixed in with her troops and forced to fight. While I am confident we can steamroll our way to her, we will however be risking civilian casualties. The resistance is already uncomfortable about requesting outside help and getting several civilians killed will undoubtedly cause the resistance to withdraw their support and aid to us."

Silas again tapped at the map and new blips appeared, "fortunately we do have a solution to this predicament. Many of the slaves will have remote detonation collars attached to them which can be easily and wirelessly interfaced with, resulting in their execution if they don't obey and fall in line. These collars receive control signals from several control towers which are in turn, networked to a facility within Gorcht's territory. Honestly, Gorcht's forces will perhaps be the easiest to deal with so we could very well not only kill Gorcht and eliminate Lasminee's trump card and throw her own troops into disarray dealing with the 'liberated' slaves."

Silas finally stepped backed and composed himself before turning his attention back to his team, "I understand that we have a lot on our plates for this job and there are going to be many obstacles we're going to deal with as well..."

He couldn't help but noticed Cyne's attention still locked on the map and he immediately knew what was going through his head, "...especially some moral ones as well. However we have to remember this is a job and we're not doing this out of the kindness of our hearts. If anything, we're doing the resistance a huge favor and they in turn will scratch our backs after this is all done. Having said that, does any of us have any questions or concerns?"

Quietly listening to the brief on the other three Horsemen, an idea struck him. ”Tha’ Deval one…locals say they c’n get in all sneaky?” He let out a short chuffing laugh. ”Den tha’ one we c’n get flat landed.”

Once he was sure he had Silas‘ attention, he went on. ”Easier den a suckler get ‘is mamma’s milk. Locals get me in ta th’ underside o’ his place, I set up a demo charge…like dat las’ job we got skagged on, an’ den we skip. Once we sure ‘es ‘ome, hit da button, and Deval is no problem. All th’ defence in th’ ‘verse can’t stop that type o’ bang. We hit Madlock an’ Deval; one, two sharpish th’ other’ll get skittish an’ dumb.”

He looked about the room, still smiling slightly. ”Dat, or we jus’ hit up th’ local Belt once we in-system an’ drop some rocks on ‘em. Sometimes easy be th’ best way.”

Ducaelia looked at the fur ball and laughed. "Easy? I mean, yeah we all like our paycheck, but what about the fun in the hunt?" She went by Gerad and sat next to him. She played with a curl of his hair. "But you have a point with the Bomb. If we timed it right, we could hit four birds with one stone. Kill one, the others will get paranoid. But this could be bad as well. If we do something as announcing as that, Madlock won't hide. He'll hunt us instead. He isn't one to back from a fight. The others might flee completely, or even go on a rampage. While a bomb could make the situation easier if done properly, it's risky at best due to the consequences. But I'm the one here to help. What ya'll decide is up to you." She got up and walked towards the door, making sure to touch Cyne again, simply to make him suspicious for fun.
When she was at the door, she turned and bowed slightly. "Now that my part is done with debriefing, I suggest being quick with your questions. WE got much to do." Then she stood by the door waiting to be dismissed.

Silas listened to Gerad's explosive suggestion. The idea was plausible for sure and would save them plenty of time in killing Deval as well. He remained silent for a moment before eyeing the holographic projection of the occupied manor. Ducaelia however pointed out that such a loud method of dealing with Deval could backfire. Thus far, the Horsemen had essentially decayed Precolis military forces from the inside out and whatever was left, or more specifically, remaining loyal to Precolis' citizens whom trained them into guerilla fighters were small in number and scattered. Apocalypse's forces far outnumbered them and for some time, haven't recognized them as a true fighting force. Blowing up the manor, assuming Deval would truly be inside during the detonation, would no doubt get the attention of the rest of the Horsemen. If that were to happen, Madlock would surely come after them while Lasminee and Gorcht would either fortify their defenses, or worse, hightail it offworld. The contract was specific in nailing all four Horsemen and having them run off risked invalidating the job. And that was unacceptable.

As Ducaelia made her way toward the door and Cyne suspiciously eyeing her, Silas turned his gaze to his team, "I'll consider your proposal Gerad. However, I am uncomfortable about the butterfly effect that it could create as a result. I'd rather not chance our job becoming harder by spooking our prey."

Cyne then cut into the discussion, "Bad enough one of the Horsemen is a heartless pyscho-bitch; that Lasminee chick. If I understand the mission parameters right, the resistance will want minimum civilian causalities - that means the slaves as well. She could even hold 'em hostage if we put her into a corner. The resistance would likely stop backing us up if that happens. That means no extra fighters or live intel. I don't know about you but I'd rather not lose that kind of asset."

Silas took in Cyne's statement but struggled to grasp if his sniper's righteous or soldier-style thinking was talking. Perhaps it was both. Regardless, Cyne, before joining his crew, did serve in the SSA as a anti-insurgent warfighter and a peacekeeper too. No doubt that the man had run into scenarios such as this one, though albeit nothing as bad as what they were stepping into. But still, his experience on the matter was vital and Silas knew he needed to consider that point as well.

"Boss," Cyne began again, "I vote we hunt and kill Lasminee first; we're better off not having dead civvies being added to our name. Once we cut that snake's head off, then we could then blow Deval sky high without having to tangle with his PMC. Probably kill Gorcht along the way too."

"And Madlock?" Silas asked, intrigued were Cyne was taking this.

"We get him to come after us. It would save us the hassle having to find and pin him down ourselves. Consider it a call to challenge him."

Silas gave that one some thought. It would put Death into his natural element for sure and that was also risky as well. But without any of his friends to back him up at that point and with the city surely falling into resistance control, it would surely put him at a disadvantage as well in terms of movement. It was essentially flipping the tables of control. How Madlock would respond however, Silas couldn't begin to ponder.

Before he could say any more, he felt the Legion's End suddenly shaking and then becoming still. Seconds later, Sven's voice echoed through the intercom, "We've just landed fellas. Resistance fighters and leadership are just outside wanting to get the job going."

"Right, tell 'em we'll be out shortly." Silas replied before he turned his attention to his squad, "Okay, get suited up. We'll follow Cyne's advice for the time being unless resistance intel gives us something to ponder about."

After ten minutes, Silas' squad had assembled, this time, a reluctant Sven was accompanying him. Silas figured the extra man power would bolster their chances. Sven however didn't initially see it that was and took some convincing once the resistance fighters on site promised that his ship would be looked after and not harmed nor misused in anyway, shape, or form. Sven only then agreed after sealing off any external access into the ship.

Their landing site was apparently settled in an outskirt town, deep in one of the thick forested areas where Apocalypse's influence and surveillance was lacking, especially when the Horseman were nested in one urban center. Due to this fact, much of the patrols were withdrawn to the city in order to bolster their defenses. While the distance to Duran would've been a couple of kilometers out, resistance contacts offered to drive Silas' group as close as possible. Sure beat walking, that was for sure.

After they arrived, it was already sundown with limited sunlight illuminating Precolis' skies. Given what they were setting out to do, having the reduced visibility gave them the subtle edge they were looking for. Though of course more so for Cyne and Ducaelia. The city limits once they came to hit were, more or less, incredibly pitiful. Refuges huddled around an array of ignited trashcans positioned at the center of makeshift tents. Many of the individuals appeared barely cleaned and no so well fed. Many of the fighters weren't that much better but still seemingly in better shape. Given the circumstances; they had to be. Silas and company we led into the alleyways in order to avoid surveillance picking them out. Poor Sven and his cumbersome body barely fit some of the tighter corridors and occasionally dinged against the rough surfaces.

Eventually, they were led in far enough to be left to their own devices. Silas observed the updated map of the city and took note of several of the features. Deval's fortress was located Eastward with only a few roads leading to his claimed estate. The terrain certainly opened up if one were to approach the mansion; perfect for the defenders to pick off any force foolish to charge the large walled structure. There was very little in terms of cover or any sub-buildings surrounding the mansion. Lasminee's operation was located further West and was stationed within a fine business tower whose surroundings, while open were more so enclosed with many other office structures build around it. Gorcht's hangout was positioned in a more urban district though there were surprisingly little leads as to where he was hiding. Same thing with Madlock as his activities were track up towards the North. Nothing there of real importance with the exception of a government building as a ransacked police station. Other wise, his was a darkened area of literal uncertainty.

Following their intel and going with Cyne's advice, they pushed through Gorcht's territory. Knocking out the control towers, as Silas had pointed out before, would prove useful in denying Lasminee a leverage that could be used against them. Striking out against the main facility operating the collar control channel was their obvious target. Unsurprisingly, their approach was uncontested due to poorly structured patrols. Ducaelia and Cyne had no problem putting done some of the isolated patrols that got in their way.

And then, about five hundred meters away was their target; a power generate complex that was retooled for running the control towers. But between them and the generated complex was a small neighbor hood and an unusually populated service station. Dozens of small single floor houses were constructed in rows before their roads conjoined into a juncture past the station. Said station played host to what Cyne claimed was over thirty thugs. But the lowlifes Cyne was itching to start popping weren't guarding anything. Actually, there were guards stationed at the recharge and fueling pens that their own vehicles would use but the inflated number of thugs present seemed to entail a bit of a social gathering of sorts. Brutish men and women laughed and yelled as they invaded the stored of alcohol from the convenience store centered at the station, completely unaware Silas' group stalking them.

"Silas," Cyne softly spoke though the comms built into his sealed spider-like helm. Silas had noted that he had moved on ahead and was surveying the area from an elevated vantage point, "we have these guys with their pants down. They have no idea we're here. Hitting that complex would be much easier if we clear this sorry lot out. No reinforcements for the defenders."

Silas agreed that it would in fact virtually weaken the guarding personnel that looked over the generators by destroying any back up they could call upon. Though dealing with over thirty, likely drunken, thugs was still a tall order. Apparently Cyne knew this too and had a plan already formulated.

"I got eyes on one of the sub-generators behind the station that powers the surrounding street lights. I can have Pathfinder hit that box and blind these bastards. Should be easier to deal with them while their blind. I'd give them a minute before they can give a proper response."

It was a sound plan and one that wouldn't raise to much attention. In fact, the confusion would likely work in their favor and given them plenty of time before any one of the thugs tries to radio for help. That is, if anyone of them could even find theirs in the dark.

"Gotcha, we'll run the game. We'll fire on your mark. Gerad, Ducaelia. Get you night-vision ready. Once the lights go out, we become specters; weapons free."

It only took a half a minute for Cyne's drone to sneak around the back and fry the sub-generator. Immediately, the lights flickered before going out completely. The thugs looked up in confusion and began stumbling into one another as they tried to field their own night vision goggles. However, they were only given a second to respond as everything suddenly went to hell.

Ducaelia went mad. Once she was in the thick off the thugs, she took them out quickly and painfully. Slicing gugulars, ripping internal organs, or shooting major arteries, the blood ran thick, and the air smelled of burnt flesh. Within minutes, eight thugs were dead, and five wounded with severed limbs or broken bones. When the drunks got a bit more wary, she jumped back into the thicket of smoke, shadows, and dust. She got behind cover then connected to her comms.
"Your turn monkey boy~."

Gerad simply grunted as the new clanker tried to goad him. ”Lotta flash fer little result.” He replied. If he’d had the time to say anything, he’d‘ve told the others to push on and let him deal with these wannabes. His own sensor feed told them they were only armed with simple shoulder arms; dangerous to soft and squishies, but like chucking pebbles at an all up warship against him.

”You wan’ ‘em dead, save th’ flash fer those cheesy holovids.” He’s been tracking Ducaelia as she’d been darting about in the smoke, and as soon as she was clear of his probable effect area, he fired a single PRP round into the store where a bunch of the survivors of the initial assault had fled. The plasma packet slammed into the internal back wall of the building and the whole place became a hellscape. Six died without even realizing they were under attack again as the plasma blast incinerated a six foot sphere of everything around its impact point, while another four weren’t so lucky, instead catching the thermal pulse of super-heated air created by the blast.

Three of them fell screaming as their gear burned and fused to their flesh, while the fourth managed to stagger out into the darkness in a vain attempt to quench the flames; they managed a few agonizing steps away from the inferno before collapsing to the ground.

Those that’d survived both attacks scrambled for cover, one of them managing to back plot Gerad’s location, and opening fire on him with panicked gouts of automatic kinetic weapons fire, which harmlessly sizzled and sparked off of his energy shields.

”Anyone else wanna go, or should I bin ‘em? Only take a tic.”

Ducalia was on the stragglers in seconds. She quickly disposed of all but one using her blasters. The last one she had fun with. She disarmed him with a kick, then allowed him to shuffle backwards away from her. Her claws blazed, seemably itching for blood. She pretended to smell the air, then fake exhaled. "Ah, fear. Nothing like it." And she quickly tore the man apart.
She walked to Gerad's cover and cockily put a hand on her hip. "Flash makes it fun, and makes it quiet. Bigger isn't always better..." She seemed to disappear, but simply dashed next to him. She got close to his eear and wispered seductively. "So keep up, monkey boy~."

The ambush was perfect. The moment the overhead lamps were snuffed of power, death was already upon the congregating thugs. Ducaelia leapt into group and dispatched several of them, one right after the other. Their agonizing screams alerted their comrades to the threat that fell upon them but with the light having been robbed from their sight, they were still trying to adapt to their rapidly deteriorating situation. And failing at that too. Before long, Gerad's contributing plasma strike had instantly incinerated several more lowlifes and the others that weren't as lucky to receive that quick of a death fell and writhed over the ground as the plasma fires consumed them. More screams filled the darkened scene, now lit by an ignited crater. Those that remained scattered or tried to fight back though only to be hunted down by Ducaelia.

It was then that the killing ground fell silent with all the thugs dead...wait.

Cyne spotted movement peeling away from the besieged service station. It was a survivor wildly moving their arms back and forth as their left leg dragged behind. It was obvious that they were wounded but that was about to change; for the worst. Cyne lined up his rifle with the fleeing thug and put the crosshairs just inches forward from his prey's head. It was an easy and simple shot. Just as he beginning to press on the trigger. an illumination of thought sparked within his mind. He hesitated, though only for a moment before his aim casually lowered to the man's seemingly only good leg.

A shot rang out and a split-second later, the round carved a chunk of flesh out of the thug's right leg, right at the femor. He yelped in pain and shock as the sudden misstep threw him face-first into the ground. While the others cleaned up, Cyne made his way down the structure he perched from and made his way to his now helpless quarry. Upon arriving, the thug was sobbing; in pain and fear as he struggled to crawl forward. It wasn't long for the man, whom was quite large as Cyne found out though only around the waist, to discover that his assailant was now upon him. To drive that point home, Cyne moved forward and placed a foot on the thug's back, pinning him and causing him to freeze in response.

Cyne leaned forward so his unnamed prey could hear him, "That site up there; over the hill. How many guys are guarding the generators powering the control towers? Hmm?"

"I-I'll tell you n-nuthin!" the thug said defiantly, although Cyne was unsure if the remark was dishonest or genuine for that matter. Perhaps a foolish attempt of representing a case of pride? Perhaps, but it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

Before continuing, Cyne redirected his foot towards the thug's fresh an bleeding injury. At first, he lightly pressed against the wound though only to securing his footing, all before pushing into it hard. The thug naturally howled in agony just before Cyne withdrew slightly, just to assert his position in the matter, "How many?" he repeated.

The thug was more compliant this time, "F-forty I-I think!"

"You think?" Cyne applied that notion as both an inquisitive rebuttal and an insult.

"Yeah. All with machine gun nests, p-power armor! And...and a..."

Cyne pressed down again, "A what?"

"A tank!" he cried, "we gots a tank up there!"

For the moment, Cyne took a moment to look up at the complex with narrowed eyes. The idea of a tank didn't really bother him; he had a ape-man wielding a portable cannon. What concerned him however was the idea getting close to a seemingly well fortified position with heavier units at play. And the tank on top of all of that. Not that they were ill equipped and they certainly weren't; it was utilizing their assets to undo a defensive wall without recklessly charging into it.

Cyne thought about it more and for a few minutes, he'd genuinely forgot he was still applying the pain on the poor thug beneath him whom was at this whining profusely. When he eventually remembered about the man, he eased off, prompting the thug to gasp in relief, "Anything else I would need to know?" asked Cyne.

"No...N-no, that's it. Y-yeah..." replied a still pain stricken thug.

Cyne eyed the still writhing lowlife briefly before eventually continuing, "That wound looks rather painful. Allow me to ease your suffering," he said as he his right hand moved to reach for something holstered to his right hip.

Perhaps it was the pain that affected the thug's judgement of the situation that prompted to reply with a hesitant, "thank you," upon absorbing Cyne's caring words. A second later, the man then found out what Cyne really meant but it was already to late to interject. In a quick and casual motion, Cyne retrieved his sidearm and leveled it towards the thug's head and pulled the trigger, blood spattered over the grass and pavement in an instant. Satisfied, Cyne holstered his pistol and headed back his unit.

---

Silas and Sven emerged from their positions, weapons still drawn, and cautiously approached the carnage before them. Cyne's ploy worked perfectly, if not too perfectly as within a few minutes, the horde of ruffians before them were practically reduced to torn and smoldering remains. All the work in fact was practically handled by Gerad and Ducaelia and left hardly anything for he and Sven to shoot at. While it was more than satisfied with their, messy, outcome, he felt somewhat cheated out of participating in the gunfight. If it could be called one anyway. Despite the denial, the physically didn't show it. Sven on the other hand illuminated his annoyance over the matter.

"That sucks," he complained, "I didn't get to shoot anything!"

"Join the club," Silas replied, "they were perfectly good target practice too; all lined up in a group like that."

"Yeah I know, ri-" Sven stopped and simply stared at a sly grinning Silas upon figuring out what he had actually meant, "I was better off on the ship..."

Both dispersed and checked the area, both seeking any further signs of struggle or anything that was lucky to have survived. Both found that there was pretty much nothing else to really check for. The only living beings within a mile was them.

"Well, that went well," Silas finally announced, "doubt you'll find anything useful, but if you do, pick 'em clean and move on. Those power generators aren't going to hit themselves."

While he waited, he looked over his surroundings and found he was missing someone, "Cyne?" he called out.

Sure enough, Cyne reappeared and approached him, "Got some intel, boss."

Silas turned to Cyne and allowed him to divulge the news. Their target was apparently under a heavier guard than what they had originally believed. Not only were they dealing with entrenched infantry, but now they had mechanized units to worry about. It was obvious that walking up and knocking on the front door was probably out of the question unless they wanted to be mowed down before even reaching the gates. As Cyne elaborated, they were better off breaking down the complex's defenses rather than engaging into a siege battle. Silas eventually called Gerad and Ducaelia into the discussion regarding their next moves.

It was Cyne again that proposed their strategy. With the complex being surrounded by dwarfing walls and guns mainly fixated on the entrance, their best method of getting close was through infiltration. However, only two members were qualified to handle that task, Ducaelia and Cyne. He suggested that they insert themselves behind the walls and quietly eliminate the guards whom were scattered in makeshift elevated and isolated positions. Taking them out as well as the surrounding patrols would not only blind the innermost defenders from the approaching trespassers but also limit their support. That's where things would get hot as they would eventually have to contend with the power armored squad. But if they were able to deny them back up, the squad would be unable to effectively respond to new threats. The set up was risky and came down to Gerad, Silas, and Sven to take on the armored unit, with Cyne and Ducaelia as their support. When the tank was brought up, he would notify them of its position and even offered to delay it if it showed up.

With no better ideas, Silas once more agreed to the plan.

---

It didn't take them long to reach the facility, thanks in part due to the night sky masking their approach and will no opposition before them before reaching the gates. As planned Silas, along with Gerad and Sven split off to one of the outlying abandoned structures while their other, more nimbler comrades made their move. Cyne brought one of his silenced rifles to bear and took out one of the helmed guard posts. With part of the wall darkened, Silas watched as Cyne planted himself back first against the wall and held both of his hands out in a conjoined position, gesturing to Ducaelia that he would boost her up over the wall. Once both were over, their operation commenced.

Cyne opted to take on the Eastern part of the wall by setting himself up at the post were he had killed the thug that occupied it. From there, he had a good view on the other positions. One right after the other, he felled every guard and gunner along his side of the wall. After he cleared out his half, Cyne took to the center and spotted the power armor squad out in the open; its members beginning to look around suspiciously as if they had realized how awfully quiet it had gotten. Cyne tagged each one on his HUD but found that the tank they were concerned about was no where to be found. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing but he made sure it didn't bother him; he just had to watch out for it was all.

After Ducaelia confirmed her side was clear, Cyne finally reported back to Silas of their success.

Silas turned to both Sven and Gerad as he activated his Shade's Skin, "Alright boys, they jumped into the fire. Now its our turn."

All three converged on the silenced gate, unopposed by unmanned machinegun positons. They eventually passed the gate with no problem but now they were, awkwardly, staring face to face with a rather confused squad of power armor units. Cyne fired off a shot that struck one of them in the shoulder. The round, coming in from a shallow vector, harmlessly bounced off the thick exterior of the armored suit. The squad reactively looked to where Cyne was and opened fire.

Taking advantage of the distraction Cyne has made, Silas gestured Gerad and Sven forward and split off to counter attack. Two of the suits found Silas and Sven approaching and moved to engage.

@Athol
One of the power armored troopers caught wind of Gerad's movements and shifted to engage him. Oddly, instead of charging the Garundin guns blazing. the suit's pilot opted for an agile approach and boosted to Gerad's flank as quick as they could. The movement was swift, zigging and zagging furiously as if the pilot was keenly aware of Gerad's weapon system and was using the suit's powerful thrusters to close the distance and stay out of the Garudin's firing arcs. Eventually, the suit, having accumulated a fair reaching proximity, had then opened up. Lances of super-heated plasma jetted out the projectors mounted on its mechanized left arm. The hot glowing trails were apparently enough to melt and glass the ground beneath them while screaming towards Gerad. Through the motion, the pilot immediately boosted in reversed and covered their withdraw with a smoke screen followed by a trio of missiles ripping out of it.

@Dealdric
One of the suits watched the battle unfold but didn't waste any time in scanning the environment around them. It was clear to this pilot that infiltrators were in their midst and were responsible for their attackers in getting this close the complex. Eventually, their assessment and judgement were correct as their suit's advanced sensors built into the HUD interface was able to pick up and track down Ducaelia. Ensuring that their advantage with distance was maintained, the pilot gunned the power armor's thrusters in reverse and let fly a barrage of missiles toward the Vandrell's position. Covering their angry approach, the suit opened up with twin heavy slug repeaters. The large caliber rounds, while inaccurate were enough to cover a wide range before them, even fragmenting into deadly shards on impact, whether they hit their target or not. Through the flurry, concrete and dirt were violently unearthed from the premature impacts.