In those short few seconds that the team had put together a plan and then worked to carry it out, the entire lobby floor had already been turned into the image of a well-worn battlefield. Nearly every surface imaginable had become blackened and chipped from gunfire. Were the bullets of this world not of a different design, the lobby would have undoubtedly been filled with smoke from projectile explosions as well.

Chariot was nearly ready to give Thunderer a heavy dosage of Originium healing, but she held the Arts back as she witnessed Vlad's swift application. It was a rugged solution, but it worked. Nevertheless, Thunderer appeared still incapable of rising to his feet for combat just yet. Chariot gave his shoulder a pat, and then retrieved her shortsword, ready for battle.

Thanks to her wide-reaching and severe action, Thrones managed to prone every last droid, and even caused the VTOL to lurch a foot before its engines kicked in more power to offset the sudden shifting. Though prone, some of the more well-positioned drones managed to let off some wayward shots, of course nowhere near striking any of the Operators, even as they moved in to slay the inundated robots. Ten seconds was plenty of time for them to dispatch the unarmored enemies, and as soon as Thrones released her grip, they were once more left with a moment's respite from being assailed.

The same, however, could not be said for Feral. While the VTOL did not utilize any suddenly-appearing vehicle mounted gunnery, she wasn't completely safe. The operator caught hold onto the ledge of the VTOL's bay, still lifted up from when the droids had dropped down. Lifting herself up into the bay platform, it appeared all of the active droids had already been dropped save for two -two which, while initially inactive with their heads bowed and their backs locked onto a hanging mechanism, suddenly sparked to life. The clamps holding them in place released, and their metal feet hit the floor of the VTOL's interior with a clang.

Their sides had holstered firearms, but they opted instead to pull machetes from slots in their hips to attack her, likely cautious of opening fire inside the VTOL. They swung at her in tight space, but proved all too easy to kill. However Feral might have dispatched them, she was left with an entire aircraft to hijack.

The cockpit was accessible, and immediately visible to her in the two-seater craft were two droids locked into the control array. The cockpit seemed as if equipped to handle Ancient operation, with buttons, mechanisms, steering controls and the like, but which were currently occupied by legless machines strapped to the pilot seats.

In the distance, another alarm blared. The next round was incoming.

Feral had expected something of a welcoming party after being tossed through the air at a hovering vehicle. The two droids inside, however, proved to be remarkably unwelcoming despite the lengths she went through to reach them. Given that she had the advantage of time on her side, dispatching the droids as they unhooked themselves from the walls of the transport proved to be relatively easy. A parry here, and slash there, and the hacked apart pieces of her greeters would sent plummeting out the sides of the VTOL to rain down upon the Sarkaz below. Free from any interlopers, the Lupo had plenty of time to move through the machine and into the cockpit to see whether or not she would be met with more resistance.

Mercifully, it seemed not. The droids piloting the VTOL were hyper-specialized for the task, which led her to another conundrum—having the land the thing after she took care of its true pilots. If the rough entrance to Retra's HQ was anything to go off of, she did not much like flying, but with a timer ticking away and her squad mates waiting below, she had little choice. She would have to take over for these helpless drones. Exercising as fast a reflex as she could, the young Operator dispatched the two pilots of the vessel with a slash to the back of the head each, leaving them to roll about the cockpit as it suddenly careened to the left. Rattled by the sudden shift in motion, Feral barely had time to shove the deactivated husk in the main seat out of the way in order to grab the controls and yank them in the opposite direction to stabilize.

What followed made their chaotic landing on the Vindsvalr look like a cake walk. The VTOL jerked and swayed in the air, rocking back and forth and making at least one full rotation around as the distressed Lupo behind the metaphorical wheel tried her best to figure out the controls. It took her some time, but eventually she managed to intuit how to make it go down. So down it went, perhaps a little too fast for comfort, but not so fast that she crashed the thing into the street, or smooshed poor Vlad like some kind of vampiric mosquito. As the VTOL made its rocky landing, Feral dislodged herself from the cockpit, and made a shaky retreat out into the main compartment, poking her head around the side of the bay doors.

"I do not like flying."

They only needed five seconds, thanks to some quick shooting from Strix, but the burden on Thrones was still blood-boiling. As soon as the final gunner droid had its head caved in, she dropped her Arts, arms falling limply to the side. Outside, Feral wrestled for control of the VTOL and actually won, while inside, the place looked viable to collapse from how shredded the pillars were. Could she walk?

She tried, but her head felt like it was splitting at the seams now. All stimulation with no true release; she definitely, totally, completely, utterly despised the neural network. She pressed a sweaty hand against her nose. No blood, but she smelled it anyways. Collapsing onto her knees, the Sankta operator took in deep breaths, quelling the nausea that wouldn't be removed just with some virtual retching.

"Some," Thrones spat out, "help here?"

"Heh..." Rolling his arm around as he stepped back after hurling Feral up at the VTOL, Vlad gave a satisfied chuckle as he watched their Specialist latch on and slip into the loading bay. Hopefully she wouldn't have any trouble bringing it down, but for the moment he turned his attention elsewhere. The others seemed to be handling the downed droids without much trouble, so he turned his attention back towards the building's foyer.

Stepping across the debris strewn floor and crunching it beneath his steps, he winced a bit as a crash and thud came from outside moments before he arrived at Throne's side. Glancing over his shoulder at the downed VTOL, Vlad was a bit impressed Feral had even tried to land the thing. The growl that came from their Caster quickly demanded his attention again though, and he crouched down to give her a look over. "You in any danger of passing out?" He asked as he poked her with his own Arts to get an idea of what was happening with her.

Last thing he wanted was Throne to slip off his back because she suddenly decided it was time for lights out.

Strix gave a sigh of relief as the droids were downed, relaxing her arts and rubbing the growing pain in her leg. Thrones was in bad shape after that impressive display, so hopefully they dont encounter too much more heavy resistance. With any luck they'll be able to take the much shorter flying route to their destination. Strix hurried to the downed VTOL with the rest of the team, thinking out loud.

"We will need to be wary of the simulations other gunships. Also aerial drones. I wonder what this thing has for armaments..."

She paused, and looked around the team.

"Does anyone have experience flying something like this?"

Mule found her guard quite down for the overwhelming reaction the rest of the team put up, ceasing her own fire as Strix and their melee contingent saw to the massacre of the androids. She even had a spare second to stare as one of their number was hurled into the belly of the VTOL, gutting the beast and spiking it down onto the pavement with a hopefully survivable landing. She moved out from behind her bullet riddled cover, passing by the stricken Thrones to shoot a quick look up and down the street before doubling back. Remnants of virtual glass crunching underfoot as she went, the siren that spelled trouble blaring in the distance.

"We need to shift positions after that siren. Maybe we can get this examination in on the move, or anywhere that isn't here." She looked between Vlad and Thrones, offering her arm down to the kneeling Sankta. "Let's get her stood up or carried, and go."

The transaction of force wasn't going to be in their favor anymore if they couldn't simply pin the enemy to the ground on arrival, that much, if little else, was clear to her. It wasn't thinking within the requirements of the simulation, but they now had two casualties to lumber around.

Her head turned to the outside once more, and the growing congregation around the downed aircraft. "Or loaded in, supposing we have a pilot," She said. Unfortunately, the extent of her training was for operations from aircraft, and a passenger with style was still a passenger.

Dragoon rested her spear on her shoulder as the last of the drones were taken out, giving Thrones a thumbs up.

"Good shit with the Arts." She said cheerfully as Vlad helped the Sankta up before Dragoon could get back to her. "How long until you're combat-capable again?" She asked curiously even as the rest of the fireteam began to examine the VTOL.

The Lung woman pursed her lips, doubting that anyone here was actually cleared to handle aircraft. Retra had been looking for mostly ground pounders for their mercs, if the rest of the team's skillset was any indication. It was likely that there were more than enough civilian flyboys for the company to skim over anyone cleared for military aircraft that could also handle themselves in a firefight on the ground.

"Look, if none of us can fly this thing, we gotta start moving. No sense sticking around to get pinned down here."

The VTOL's belly scraped along the ground, passing sparks and small bursts of flame as the metal behemoth rubbed against concrete. It made it down with some bends and bruises, but maintained a perfectly fly-able form in the end. Chariot had Thunderer still over a shoulder, though he had managed to get himself onto his own two feet by then. Quiet words were exchanged, and then she nodded to the Supporter before letting him hold himself up. With a quick hop, she made it up onto the airship's bay, and was moving into the cockpit.

"Damnit I'll do it then!" she shouted to the team. With the cockpit drone already dispatched, she easily fit into the seat, though her legs were a little cramped considering her greaves. Settling her longsword sheathe beside her, she placed her hands over the various controls lightly, as if testing whatever memory she had of flying.

"Alright... alright. Not too different. Not too bad, but... what's this one...?" Chariot muttered to herself. "Whatever. Everyone on board!"

When the team had hopped on, Chariot pushed a throttle, blasting the VTOL's rockets into life as it slowly lifted off. Much as she wanted to simply rise to the skyline, they'd all be sitting ducks up there. That meant navigating between the buildings, which she was not too fond of. No time for hesitation. Chariot pushed the airship into forward motion, flying down the streets thirty feet above the ground. It was just narrow enough that she had to constantly shift the stick, lest one of the engines come into contact with a solid wall. For a moment, it seemed as if their speed, combined with the immediate lack of enemies, meant that they were in the clear, and would reach the other side of the city in no time, but a peculiar feeling soon dismissed such notions.

Everyone's vision seemed to distort here and there, as if the simulation was failing to keep up with their speed, or perhaps their activity itself. The VTOL itself disappeared in brief flashes, leaving them flying through the air upon invisible seats for seconds at a time. Chariot caught herself from simply dropping the controls each time, but yelped nevertheless. Diver's voice came over the communications link.

"Sorry everyone. It looks like the simulation is experiencing some... technical difficulties. We're trying to f-f-f," the voice cut off into a mess of static, repeating sounds. The VTOL disappeared permanently, and soon the entire world around them began to fade into that plain white, endless plain as when they had first arrived. Their sense of forward motion disappeared, though they remained still in their same positions, paralyzed but aware.

"Wh-what's going on...? Guys, can you still hear me?" Chariot asked.

And then, blackness.

Everyone's eyes opened -their real eyes. They were back on the Retra headquarters, inside of the closed pods. A minute passed, and then they opened. Diver stood in the center of the room with a sorry look to her face, feeling guilty of something. Biting her lip, she spoke to the operators as they pulled out of their groggy, disoriented states to the real world.

"Oh my... I'm sorry everyone. It looks like the simulation didn't... quite know how to handle your actions," she said.

"We didn't test some of the modules for vehicular flight. Didn't have time," said one of the engineers working nearer to the room's entrance.

"I suppose there's some merit to finding an avenue for breaking the simulation," Diver chuckled, rubbing her neck. "What did you all think, otherwise?"

Thrones shook her head at both Vlad and Dragoon's questions.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Can perform my Arts even without my legs."

Her mind continued to fill with static. She was smelling blood that wasn't there. She really didn't like this whole environment. White buildings all around, blocky and texture-less. The Sankta shook her head again, clearing out the spreading webs. Time to go.

Or well, it would have been time to go, if the simulation hadn't glitched out at the end. Technical difficulties spawning from unexpected actions ended their examination, and Thrones opened her eyes slowly, her bones still feeling like jello. Pushing herself up, she felt something warm and salty seep onto her lips. Blood, red and sticky. Just a small nosebleed, but her head hammered into her mind, a wall smashing into a woman. The stimulation of Arts usage, without the actual physical effects of it. She shuddered.

Only made it worse.

"Diver," Thrones croaked, pressing her sleeve up against her nose. "You've read my files. Neural networks worsen my condition. Outside, please."

The crystals continued to riot. Shouldn't have been so bold with her Arts usage, for sure. Not when it was fake.

The twitch brought on by the sudden rush of alarm, long suspended by the process that had submerged her in that virtual world, finally played out as Mule fluttered back to reality. Her boot found the edge of the pod as the jolt of awakening bumped her forehead noisily into the canopy. Less like awakening and more like being thrown back into the body she belonged in, as she sat, held her forehead, and thought about it. The actual feeling, the sudden fear of having her consciousness plucked away, was nowhere to be found even if she could plainly remember it, play out its impulses as if cast back to the second of departure. A minute was just enough time to get to wondering if the simulation ran in real time or not, but as the pod hissed open she was more concerned with pulling herself out of it and looking presentable.

Boots clacked down onto the Vindsvalr's flooring panels as Mule descended, stumbling forwards as the mixture of un-numbing limbs and overcompensation for the dangling weight of the objective nearly toppled her. Tail flicking out as she caught herself and stood up straight in response to Diver's voice, a medley of odd feelings began to filter in. Her thigh felt quite bare without the old drop holster clamped around it. She spared a glance at the stricken Thrones, brow furrowing in concern as the Sankta dabbed at her face even in reality.

"It's an... interesting training medium to be sure. I think that I would be quite confident working with this group in a post-candidacy capacity, and that even if the simulation's objective was voided and the examination seemed to be measuring combat capacity chiefly, as a squad we demonstrated a convincing ability to cooperate."

That was the best she could manage in the quickly growing gulf of silence that seemed to follow Diver's question. It was one thing to point out the group's efficacy, another to think idly that it certainly wasn't her cannonballing into helicopters or shredding platoons of androids. These were strong fighters she was standing beside, and if that was Retra's expected mission profile she was left wondering what exactly in her portfolio had turned a head. Useless thoughts for now, she reminded herself, standing by and smiling idly as she listened to the other thoughts given.

Well if they were planning to take the VTOL that made things a lot easier. Scooping Thrones up into his arms, he hoofed it alongside Mule into the commandeered vehicle. Shifting his grip so he could hold the Caster while grabbing onto a railing as the ship shakily rose up in the air, Vlad whistled as he glanced out the open bay doors. Judging by the speed and sharp turns made by Chariot, it seemed like her piloting experience was rather extensive.

Not that it seemed to matter in the end as the world seemed to break and glitch out. Wincing and shaking his head at the disorienting sight, he almost stumbled as the railing suddenly disappeared before the plane itself winked out of existence. Being suddenly frozen in place, unable to even move his head as the world went white, was certainly on Vlad's list of experiences he'd rather not go through again.

Head thudding against the cover of his pod as he jerked awake, Vlad impatiently tried to shift around. Giving up as he heard the systems humming away around him, he wiggled his fingers and toes to make sure nothing in his head had gotten fried during the testing. Stepping out the moment the pod opened to allow him to, his first order of business was to stretch a bit and get the blood flowing again.

As he crouched and rolled his shoulder, Vlad sniffed a bit as the faint scent of blood hit him. Looking towards Thrones as he stood up, he stepped over to lend her a hand with walking while saying, "Here, let me take care of that."

Regarding Diver's question about the simulation though. "As Mule said, it seems the simulation was mainly to test our skill in combat. It seems a bit overkill to design such a scenario if that's what the goal was. The package almost seems like something of an afterthought added on given how little its presence seemed to matter."

Dragoon slowly opened her eyes, fighting the urge to yawn for some reason. She blinked as she beheld the real world once again, realizing at least some of what had happened before Diver and the techs started explaining. Well, shit. Hopefully they didn't screw up anything that Retra would take out of their paychecks. She'd hate to have her first payday be marred with something like that. A girl had crap to buy, damn it.

"Huh. So we bricked it. Whoops." Dragoon said simply as she pulled herself out of the pod, rubbing out a crick in her neck from being stuck in that position for some time. "So...what now? You guys think the bosses're going to want us to go back in without slamming a glitch in the matrix this time, or have they seen enough? Because from where I'm standing, I think I've got a good enough handle on the squad now. We don't have any screwups yet, not that I can note, at least. Basically a thumbs up from me."

She gave Thrones a look of concern as her...condition acted up, but Vlad seemed to have things well in hand already. At least, that's what she told herself. Years of cultural conditioning taught her to keep her distance, even if she justified it with leaving things up to an actual medical expert.

"Really though, even if the wargame was designed for only testing infantry combat skills, it ain't exactly outside of the special ops playbook to hijack enemy vehicles and weaponry. How bad were you guys rushed for time on this thing?" She questioned the techs, legitimately curious.

The world suddenly faded away and Strix was abruptly pulled back to reality. The pod opened, and all she could feel was her head spinning. She took a hesitant step out of the pod, clutching the side of it. She only managed to form a few words, "Well that was... something." Strix looked around at the team and the techs, still gripping the pod in case she fell over. After a few minutes she was able to stand up without gripping the pod, and she stretched to help get her blood flowing more.

"I'd gladly take that landing procedure a hundred times before going back in there. But it seems like we have a good group here. How long were we out for anyways?"

Strix paused from her stretching and noticed all their bags had been removed from the room. Hopefully hers were handled well, she would hate for anything to happen to her precious cargo.

"What else does Retra have on the docket for today, or can we lie down for a bit."

Diver frowned deeply at Thrones, appearing as genuinely sorry as she could be. Though she clacked some notes away at her PDA, her eyes kept trained upon the Sankta as she spoke.

"I'm... we're well aware of your situation, but i'm afraid the decision was not up to me. Miss Solveig insisted on utilizing the simulation. It's one of our newest technologies, and I'm certain she and others were eager to see it put to use," Diver explained, "Not to mention that it is... admittedly difficult to carry out extensive real-life examination aboard the ship. Expediency was of utmost importance as well. I'm sorry, Thrones. We will do everything we can to reduce the strain in the future."

Chariot chimed in, "So then we will be having to go back in? Or are you insinuating that we're accepted?" she asked, fixing her ponytail after stepping out of the cramped pod.

"Miss Solveig was already invested in you all before the test. This was, ultimately, just a way for us to measure you all more thoroughly regardless of your existing good impressions," Diver smiled. "So for the time being, no, you will not be going back into the simulation for awhile. I imagine there's a good number of kinks we need to work out anyways, clearly," she giggled. Chariot's expression became bright as she turned back to everyone else, silently celebrating with her smile at the news.

"As for your question, Vlad. The task was admittedly impossible to achieve. The simulation was programmed to continually ramp up difficulty, and would have surely inundated the team before you could reach your destination. It wasn't meant to be beatable, but rather to test you all, and perhaps illuminate your behavior in the face of apparent failure."

The two tech engineers paused their typing to look up at Dragoon, exhaustion in their eyes. "We've been working for three days straight," said the woman. Indeed, were she to look around, Dragoon would have noticed the remnants of coffee packets, spilled sugar, and dirty mugs about the desks off to the side.

"Two weeks of preparation, though. The tech really is new. Couple dozen other employees were helping us up until it was up to us," the man added.

"The simulation is a one-to-one where time is concerned. Your hour or so in the simulation was an hour out here," Diver explained to Strix.

"We do have plans to try and increase the in-simulation speed, though," the male technician said aside.

"With the examination concluded, you're all released from today's duties," Diver said. "Under your current employment, you have level B clearance, which will permit you to visit most facilities here, including laboratories. We ask that you exercise caution when moving about delicate locations like those, of course." Diver moved to a desk and retrieved a pile of lanyards, handing one to each of the operators. It displayed their name, a serial code, a large white 'B' and a number of other printed security features.

"Any one of the directory consoles around the ship can direct you to your dorms, if you wish to relax for the moment. Cafeterias, gyms, theaters... all are available with your badge. We also have a park towards the center of the ship, if you would like for a place to relax. The dome is, in fact, real and looks out into the sky. It is not a television panel, as much as even our own veteran employees would like to rumor.

"Tomorrow we'll have you meet with Miss Solveig, but for the time being, you've the rest of the day off."

Mule was stoic and still as Diver went through her various answers. She didn't have anything to add that the team hadn't presented themselves, or at least thought so, and thought mostly on the answers they'd been given. It was likely infuriating for the analysts that they'd gone and escaped the scope of the simulation when handed an impossible task, but to expect anything less from operatives of their caliber was to sell them short. She found her smile a bit warmer at the thought, returning Chariot's beaming celebration. The rest of the technical details didn't matter to her, but she would wait for the debrief to end before stripping down anyway.

"Understood." Mule said as she held the lanyard up to her face, looking over the details of the card attached before slipping it around her neck and gingerly tucking it down the back of her armor. Then she stepped away as Diver offered some helpful instructions, finding her bag along the room's wall and beginning the process of clicking and ripping off the various buckles and straps that comprised her vest and tactical rigging. Lighter than it had been in the simulation, empty now. They'd really tore into the Retra staff over that one but the attention to detail given in their equipment had been impressive, at least. She made a promise to herself to visit an armory if she could find one.

The gear went back in its bag without a fuss, the same as it had been when she got on the plane that morning and no less worn in despite the memory of a full operation lingering in her head. That felt strange, not to be able to count the scuffs and scrapes with an hour of combat and maneuver still echoing around in her nerves. She shook her head, hoisting up her luggage before turning back.

"Sounds like you've got quite a few facilities for being all the way up here! For now, I think I'll be reporting to the dorms to get my things moved in." Mule shuffled her bag around, moving towards the door before turning again. "Though, If at all possible with my clearance I would like to log at the armory some time soon. The setup in the simulation was authentic enough that I think I can guess what AAR your engineers were reading for my gear." She smiled over at the busily typing desk section. "But I can run heavier than that. Explosives, medical, mobility, whatever the team can put to use."

Thrones grunted in Vlad's direction, willing the buzz of her brain to go away. Tech companies always liked to do their tests, huh? Made some sense at least. It'd be a nightmare to handle real-life simulations involving squads of machinegunners and casters capable of leveling buildings. Just a little blood too. She pulled out a packet of tissues from her pockets, jamming a couple sheets up her nose.

"Understandable," the Sankta spoke, jamming her hands into her pockets once more. With the meeting concluded and clearance granted, she set off through the hallways of Vindsvair. Movement brought forth some stability to her posture, and a purpose kept her mind grounded. Her elbrow rubbed against the walls as she walked, eyes flickering over the facades. No arrows, but there was a console there, activating as she neared it to show a holographic display of the Vindsvair's interior. Routes were simple enough. She leaned her skull against the wall, took a breath, and continued on.

Her blood was rioting against her now. Wouldn't have been so bad if she'd held back during the simulation. If she'd known that it was impossible to beat, she wouldn't have strained herself so. Whatever. New things learned: Retra Corp's made up of Trekkies.

The observation balcony neared, and Thrones ran the last stretch of the way, practically collapsing against the rails as she hurled out the contents of her stomach. Half-digested pastries mixed with bile fell down, before scattering in the wind streaming over the massive aircraft. The engines were obnoxiously loud, jackhammering into her mind, but it kept the voices away. Thrones hissed deeply, then pushed herself upwards. Felt like a day full of making bad decisions. Just a little bit.

"Just a little bit."

Her right hand stretched outwards, the crystals in her blood and mind resonating, rings of gravitational force expanding a couple meters beyond the observation deck. Always took a little more to quell the delusions when she practiced her Arts without using her Arts, but it'd have to do. Retra was a busy company with big plans. They'll all have work soon. But when was that? Could just ask after.

Thrones continued to lean against the railings, her blood growing colder even as her heart beat faster.

Just a little bit. Just a little bit? Just a bit little. Justice bit. Just...

The ring winked out, and the Sankta hit the ground.

"Toughing it out, huh?" Shaking his head just slightly, Vlad nonetheless didn't impose himself further on the Caster as he turned towards Diver and raised an eyebrow. He supposed the techies wanted to flex their own muscles so to speak, but a simpler simulation wouldn't have ended up breaking because of a simple vehicle hijack. It was all said and done though, so no point in dwelling on the matter for longer than necessary. Returning Chariot's smile with a slight thumbs up, he carefully took the offered lanyard between two gauntleted fingers that might have otherwise crushed the card.

Looking over it to make sure the information was all correct, he tied it off to his belt instead of hanging it around his neck. Turning away from Diver to retrieve his belongings and doff his gauntlets, he placed them away with a bit of noise before he slung his bags over a shoulder. While they hadn't actually gotten banged up, he'd need to take care of some routine maintenance that'd been passed up during the travel here.

"As nice as coffee and snacks were, I'm gonna grab some food if anyone wants to come along? I'm guessing I'll be able to get a drink from the medbays, Diver?" He was just starting to feel a bit thirsty, and the smell of even a little blood in the air wasn't doing much to keep it calm either. On the matter of medbays as well, he rubbed his neck with a sigh and continued, "Speaking of which, you might want to keep an eye on Thrones. She was already unsteady in the simulation, and her blood flow didn't feel any better just now."

Shrugging after his suggestion, he looked around at his remaining teammates to see if anyone was interested in the offer.

"A Kobayashi Maru? Really?" Dragoon grinned, taking it all good-naturedly as she scratched the back of her head. "Well, that's one way to grade your applicants, I guess. Kinda sucks we didn't get to the part where we steadily got overwhelmed, then." She chirped, taking the lanyard she was given and putting it around her neck.

Well, she'd made it. At least this promised to be more interesting than the LDF. Hopefully. After everything that had happened there, this was pretty much one of her last shots to do the only thing she was good at for a living under decent conditions. Couldn't afford to screw this one up.

Hell, at least the food should be better than the canteens she was used to, to say nothing of the dogshit MREs the LDF passed off as field rations. And speaking of food...

Dragoon perked up, waving towards Vlad. "Yeah, I could use some grub myself. Was wanting to see how good the chow halls were in this joint. Anyone else wanna come along? Celebratory 'we did it' meal and all that."