"Right-o, Watson, what in blazes shall we do now?" Jocasta asked, mostly to pass the time. The two mercs had a rough idea of where they were going, having procured schematics from a terminal minutes before. Jocasta led the way, Markus watching their flank, checking over his shoulder every few moments. Luckily, there were cameras only at certain intervals, the administration deeming the utility areas less worrisome than the public sectors.

"My sword," Markus reminded her.

"Capital idea!" She said. "Glad I thought of it!" 

Jocasta and Markus passed by a four way split in the winding maze, before Jocasta skirted to a stop, and gave a low 'beep beep beep' as she backed up. Markus raised an eyebrow and stepped out of her way, before she turned down a pristine hallway. There were various doors, but one stood out. It was made of reinforced steel, able to withstand small-yield explosions and armor piercing rounds from small-arms fire. Next to it was another terminal, only this one far more advanced. Jocasta cracked her knuckles, bit her tongue, and began typing away. The screen went from a basic query of identification to multiple windows within moments.

"So, what are you doing now?" Markus asked her, crossing his arms and peering in.

"Why are you so interested in every little hack I'm doing?" She asked, amused.

"Because it's slick as hell." He admitted, reaching up to stroke the stubble on his chin.

"Yeah, it is pretty sexy. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two sometime," She teased, the windows on the display dropping back to the original screen, where the query was now a different one, asking them to merely scan their IDs. "Not that you'd need help in that department." She winked.

Markus smirked. "For the record, neither do you." He admitted as the reinforced door slid open. Before the two could say more, six pairs of eyes fell on them from within the armory, and there was no mistaking it [i]was[/i] the armory. Guns, ammunition, armor, portable devices ranging from personal shields to infantry beacons were stacked or hanging along the walls. And checking the inventory was a clerk, a datapad in his hand and a confused look on his face. Beside him, as well as across the room, past a pile of crates, were two faceless, helmed guards, much like the ones Jo and Markus had seen when they had been escorted to their cells. 

"Hey, who are you?" The closest guard asked, hefting his plasma rifle. "You don't have authorization in here!" 

Jocasta whispered under her breath. "This is less sexy..."