[b]Blood![/b]

Red goes through life as a disaster. She's the klutz. The airhead. The fuckup. The rest of her knows it and she knows it too. Too much momentum, too little care. 

But take a peek inside her head and you'll see why.

There are certain background assumptions about the world that get learned, internalized, taken for granted and filtered out. That stone floor is solid, I can walk over it at full speed. That headband is securely attached, I don't need to fiddle with it. My day has a clear schedule, I can make free use of time that is not budgeted. Red exists in the world outside those foundational assumptions. She's the one who spots a weird bug and stops to look at it because it's super cool, who notices the patterns on the tile and starts twisting her feet to avoid stepping on any seams, who wakes up each morning with a baseline attitude of 'whatever happens to me today, happens'. She's not smart in a cerebral, conceptual sense but that is because there's no time to reflect where she is; she's a constant flow of new information and new experiences. 

So, to her, the lights going out and the windows breaking open is no more unexpected than opening the drawer to find even more coins. Okay, so that's what we are doing now. Neat!

So firstly, they may be trying to kill her in the abstract, but they weren't trying to kill her, Blood, specifically. They could have done that way more efficiently by having a large guy walk in through the single door with a hammer. Cutting the power meant that this was a whole fucking Operation by a team of professionals with contingency plans and backups and probably a perimeter. That meant concealing in place wasn't an option... [i]unless[/i]...

Okay, so. 

She was being investigated by drones, right? That meant that whoever was on the other end had an extremely limited field of view and situational awareness; they were looking through monitor screens, and probably two at the same time. They were also looking for targets to eliminate and not doing a fine inventory of the apartment and its contents. [i]That [/i]meant -

Blood pulled a trash bag over her head.

She curled up inside it. The drone glided past, seeing a room full of coin-filled trashbags.

She crab-scuttled out behind it. Froze still when the second drone buzzed by. It's floating at head level, camera pointed forwards. The operator was still looking for an active, hostile target and not counting the coin-filled trashbags that littered the floor. 

Then came the hard part.

The hard part was to continuing to dump coin bags down the chute while the apartment was being patrolled by drones. She had to crab-walk, dragging two bags behind her, all the way to the kitchen, deposit both bags, then go back. She had to do this fast because any moment now the human followup was going to come through the door with hammers and situational awareness and this goofy game of freeze dance would stop working. 

The upshot, though, was that the drones were on a loop. It wasn't a big apartment, but with only two cameras and predictable movements, there was a blindspot big enough for her to fit a treasure chest through. With mechanical precision she emptied the last of Rudy's coin collection down into the trash not two feet away from a drone with its camera rotated in the wrong direction. [Infiltration 5/8, Traffic Analysis 0/1: 5+6 [b]11[/b]].

The last bag went down. Sadly she couldn't fit after it. She needed to go for the window, right as she heard heavy boots coming down the corridor. Just as the lock was being forced, out she went.

She was still in the trashbag as she went down. It was politer that way; it'd keep all of her pieces in one place, making it easier for pickup, and wouldn't traumatize any passerby to see her like that. If the drone controller was on the roof, looking at the drone monitors, they weren't watching for a small black shape to slip out of one window. The fact that this was going to kill her didn't even show up as a negative - capture, even posthumous capture, was a much worse option in this circumstance. This way they wouldn't even get to see her face.

Really, it was the perfect pl- [Health 5/6]

[Chemistry 0/1] She leaves one parting gift, though - she tips over the bucket of cleaning chemicals she'd previously used to clean Rudy's coins on the way out. It spreads out and soaks into the carpet right in front of the doorway. The thing about this stuff, though, was that it was incredibly sticky and temperature sensitive. When the human followup came through the door they'd stomp right through it - and when they left, they'd leave footprints that would be visible to thermal vision. 

[b]White![/b]

"Fucks sake," said White as the 'unit down' tone played in her ear.

Aevum was not built for cars, but small utility vehicles for technicians, deliveries, and importantly garbage skips. She straightened her resource management uniform, got behind the wheel, and booked it for Red's ground floor location. The plan is to get out, baseball cap low over her face, pick up the suspiciously misplaced bag of trash, and then get on out of there.

[b]Blue and Orange![/b]

Orange wants to be liked. She can sense the opportunity here. The warm body language, the positive language, the confessional and lingering structure to the words. But she's not complete enough a person for this; this calls for deep honesty, spirituality and ideology, and she wasn't Yellow enough to understand what she was on that level. She makes a kind of whining noise and looks at Blue.

"Of course you want that. We all want that," said Blue. "But we are [i]here [/i]because we can't have that, aren't we? We are here because we have a responsibility. To the fallen. To the lost. We have that in common too."