[IC] NCQ — Polaris

[Gowi]

[Gowi]

P A W N

Engineering, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

It was time.

The phrase repeated itself in the back of his mind as he picked up his feet, walking calmly throughout the corridors of the sub-levels as he held up his datatool up to the security monitors, a loud ‘swoosh’ exiting the doors in front of him as they slid open. The plan was to be initiated as a dual-pronged attack on New Anchorage for reasons completely unknown to him— but then again, it was intentions that were unknown to all of the pawns that had infiltrated New Anchorage. It was a tactic to keep the confidentiality and security of the nameless organization they worked for safe from harm from those too small to perceive their activities as righteous and true. But for him, the third of his team, there was nothing about the operation that left a bad taste in his mouth and he most certainly did not hold any doubts or fears about what they were about to achieve. Michael Graham had thought he was clever, but there was no one as clever as the masters nor were there any as competent as they. The nameless organization had operated for centuries and Graham had only become relevant to their concerns in the last decade. Had he a mind to question his superiors he would’ve believed that it was foolish to let Graham live as long as he had; but then again there was always a plan in motion. Though the larger plan in action was unknown to him.

But who was he to know? After all, he was just a lowly pawn.

He stepped upward over the body of a soldier that laid across the ground, the mark of a blade dug across his neck. A fate that the soldier was not alone in.

They had hit those guarding the engineering shift in the early morning quietly and with ruthlessness that none of them could’ve expected. After all of the rebuilding Michael Graham had put New Anchorage through to lose it all would be a tragedy of the ages. But New Anchorage was too important to allow an independent and uncertain force to take hold of; and that wasn’t bringing up the value of initiating such a subversive attack in the first place.

Burn it to the ground.

A confident smile rose on his lips as his allies looked to be ready with the explosives.

“Have the sub-protocols been hacked yet?”

The plan in mind was to remove New Anchorage from the ability of fighting back and attacking with the swiftness that the darkness gave them to their advantage. With the main servers in their pocket there would be nothing to help the soldiers, pilots, and technicians of the base defend themselves in turn. They would have no advantages and only hold disadvantages as the reality of the situation would absorb them and control them. Darkness becomes helplessness and helplessness becomes fear and fear becomes death.

His smile widened more as he thought more on the subject, his hands tucked behind his back. Once the power was out it was up to the other pawns— the ones that had infiltrated the ranks of New Anchorage’s soldiers upon the main floor. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how they even could fail the nameless organization they served with the perfect infiltration they had executed without issue. The other pawns were armed with assault rifles, night vision bionic implants, and had been trained as special operations units for years. This wouldn’t be their first mission as pawns in this function and it would likely not be their last.

“Yes. We are ready on your command, master pawn.”

He nodded, “Good. New Anchorage won’t know what hit them. They will be nothing but a distant memory. Activate the charge.”

He turned around, it was time to leave. It was up to the other team of pawns now; though they had a much more rigorous mission ahead of them and he was thankful that he was in charge of sabotage and insurrection of the military base over actually executing those who were too troublesome to be allowed to live. After all, he knew the assault team had assigned themselves to a very dangerous mission that could’ve been suicide if the board played against them. There was no risk in his task and while he did not fear death he did not wish to seek it out.

Because a discarded pawn was expected— but for a pawn to reach the end of the board and become a new piece entirely… now that was far more useful.

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

Abigail Kord. The name she had been assigned to infiltrate New Anchorage had been decided long ago and she had done well to earn not only the trust of Sophia Torres but also Michael Graham in the recent turn of events. Alongside others she served as the “muscle” of their mission of sabotage and insurrection. Her mind had been in a constant flux for the last week and when she got the go-ahead from Ilron Webb, the master pawn that was part of the engineering side of things, that it would be on this morning that they would strike she couldn’t believe how anxious she was to get started. Shutting down the power and seizing essential data from the server was only one small part in dealing a dent big enough to make tempting for the local raider population to be drawn to and the other part of it was dangerous as it always had been. She had done a similar operation in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and in the densely protected region within Southwestern Texas— so in her mind, a small piece of shit base in the fringes of Alaska posed little challenge let alone threat for her or her fellow pawns.

Her team awaited, seemingly in a neutral stance when a loud explosion could be heard underneath the sub-floors and the darkness overtook them.

“It’s time, boys.” She uttered over private communications as her bionic eyes activated almost immediately as her blue irises shifted to a neon green. “You know the plan, we separate in teams of five-on-five. We kill anybody that crosses our path and we eliminate as many POI targets as we can before extracting. With each POI dead that’s a bonus of twenty-five thousand credits added to our payroll. Let’s get it done.”

She turned the corner, five of her fellow pawns on her heel as she rose her assault rifle. She spotted her first target— a non-POI, but she knew her orders.”

The next several minutes would be significant as the communications jamming from their hacking protocol down in engineering would render New Anchorage unorganized as she and twenty-four other insurgents’ unleashed hell upon the people for the last two-to-three months had seen them as comrades, not knowing of their insidious intentions. How could they?

It would take a lot of skill or a lot of luck for New Anchorage to survive this attack, that much was for sure.

[Gowi]

S T E I N

NC Pilot Barracks, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

The sound of thunder and steel, distorted static in her ear, and echoing gunfire. Had it been a simulation Stein would’ve found herself thinking the situation was favorable to test her reflexes and abilities— but therein came the fact that this was a scenario that was sourced in reality.

The blonde-haired girl dropped from her bunk to the cold padded metal floor, a look of annoyance upon her face. She looked over at her comrades and with a dry expression tried to gauge how they too were reacting. Some bunks were empty due to the fact that some of the pilots had dipped out for a break for the lavatories or were somewhere else in the facility ignoring their insomnia by trying to do something productive; such of a sentiment was one Stein respected and understood at the very least. However Stein had been sleeping since a little after 2100 hours and she quite liked having a cohesive sleep schedule; but she supposed that her four-to-five hours of rest was a decent amount especially considering the situation she had been awakened to.

After all, they were under attack.

She wasn’t quite sure who New Anchorage had offended, but given the deaths it had been responsible for under Sophia’s leadership the names were not exactly small ones. She and Jan Van Gent had killed one of the higher ranking members of Red Star and she knew that other pilots had done their duty as well— though the likelihood a major corporation would attack them without any warning was doubtful if her knowledge within Volkov meant anything substantial to the issue. Corporations were political and cautious… but attacking at the dead of the morning from the inside as she assumed due to the lack of communications and power was not the motif of raiders or pirates. But who else but corporations could setup such a scenario? It was a thought she’d have to find the answers to at another time. Especially considering the fact her train of thought was interrupted by a loud and clearly annoyed voice from the other end of Stein’s side of the bunks.

“What the flyin’ fuck is going on?!”

Kathryn Dradht. Not part of her squad, but a reasonable response to the sound of explosions and gunfire in the middle of the morning as far as Stein could perceive. Not everyone had the same response to sudden abnormal shifts as Stein had experienced and she knew that. Alongside her role as a squad commander she had to be more understanding of her comrades just like her own mentor, Roxa Vox had done with her. She may not have been able to be sympathetic or inspirational as Agatha suggested but at the very least she could not ignore a person should they be different in personality. Her blue eyes glanced over to the direction of Vera’s bunk and a sense of worry came to her mind— she would have to be mindful of Vera and protect her as any other commander would to a pilot-in-training.

Stein sighed as she pulled up her sleeves to her clothing and afterwards reaching to her small lockbox she kept her important items in; including that of her personal handgun, a Volkov Small Arms Special 17. She was one of the few pilots who kept themselves guarded in the barracks. It was a situation like this where she was glad that she did.

“It appears that we are under attack.”

There was another voice to reply, muffled by the haze of drowsiness and utter nervous confusion— Joshua Ray. “I… yeah. This is bad.”

Yes, yes it was.

[Ladypug]

P E R C Y

Personal Quarters, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours (2:00 AM) ]]

Percy jerked awake at the first sound of the attack, and his immediate reaction was to get up to check on the girl sleeping in the bed further from the door. Thankfully - maybe not thankfully - he didn’t need to, since she had already jumped onto the couch Percy was sitting in. The girl’s arms wrapped around her father tightly, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke,

“I can’t do this again.”

“I know,” Percy replied quickly, a touch louder than he intended - his heart was pounding in his head and he was trying to get out of the sleep hangover he was under so maybe he’d be able to think of something. He stood up, picking her up as he did so, glancing at the door - he could hear loud footsteps going past his room, more than likely going further into the facility, and a slower set walking up to his room. They sounded very close and he maybe only had a couple seconds to think.

He set Ana down on the floor and quickly ushered her to the closet, sliding the door open.

“Dad, I can’t. I can’t—”

“—Yes, you can. Please, Ana, please trust me,”

Ana instead whimpered and turned to look at her father - her eyes were tearful and the shaking she was doing was suddenly a bit more obvious to him. It hurt for him to see this but this was the only thing he could think of doing in this moment. Sure, he could dash to the armory and come back, but then Ana is vulnerable here if whoever the hell is invading the building unless she tags along, but then she’d be about the same, just moving too.

“I really can’t. Dad, please—”

The loud pounding of three lightning fast knock came on the metal door separating the corridor and Percy’s private quarters. Someone had arrived at the other side of the door— perhaps they had found him?!

Percy couldn’t help the sudden anger that overcame him - maybe it was fear, maybe it was genuine anger, it was hard to say in that moment. He grabbed at her shoulder and tried to guide her into the tight closet as she tried just as hard to fight against him, “Ana, we have to or we’re both fucked, alr-”

“Percy! You better not be sleeping!” The voice of Rebecca Marek cut through the unnerving silence as a sigh of relief exited Percy’s lips. He eased his grip on Ana and went to the door before doubling back to the table that held his datatool, turning it on and habitually going to open the door before realizing the door was powered by the facility. The facility has no power. He actually allowed himself to laugh, if softly.

“Percy? I can hear you. The hell are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, n- I’m letting you in.” Percy continued to the door, then got to manually opening the door - grating off, pull and twist the lever, pull the door open - “Hiya. Uh.. So, i-is this a drill or is something actually going on?”

“No, this isn't a drill—” Rebecca walked through the doorway into Percy’s room. “—here’s the problem. We’ve been compromised and anyone who was awake already is trying to formulate a plan. The tricky part with that however is the communications line is down and the back-up generators aren’t powering on. We’re completely dark.”

“So there’s really real people here really wanting to kill us? That’s great,” Percy couldn’t keep the sarcasm in his own head - it was the only way he could keep away from absolute panic. He felt Ana’s arms trying to cling to him again, so he moved his arm so she could better hold onto him. Percy rested his hand on her head before speaking, sarcasm lessened as the severity of the situation really sunk in, “Do you have any ideas?”

“Well they certainly aren’t here to be guests at our wedding,” she quipped back as she looked around his room, noticing the situation. “We don’t have a lot of time to figure things out, so get your gear and follow me. We’re going to migrate Ana to Graham’s quarters. It’s the safest place right now considering we have enemies with assault rifles coming at us. They probably have augments, too. We’ve already taken casualties, though I can’t confirm who without comms.”

Percy looked down to Ana, who had a less than happy expression on her face. Fear with a touch of anger, to be more precise. “I’m not staying with Graham,” she mumbled.

“Ana—”

“No.”

“Hon—”

“—Ana. Please? I need your help to keep your dad safe, so is it possible you can deal with being in the same room with the commander for just a little while?”

“But he’s—”

“I know, but sometimes you have t— Dammit, Ana; I can’t give you a life lesson in the middle of this right now, okay? Please, just do this. For me?”

“What if you don’t come back?”

“I will.”

Rebecca looked at Percy as he talked it over with Ana as best as he could, her eyes indicating some sense of tension… maybe fear. She was trying to telegraph how bad it was and how fast they had to get Ana packed in Graham’s quarters — somehow, though he wasn’t sure how, he understood.

At that, Percy simply picked up the smaller girl; she protested with a “No!” but Percy didn’t heed it. It was either she be with someone neither of them exactly liked, but be safe, or she stays with the two of them and ends up with a bullet in her head. That was enough motivation for him to walk out of the room… then wait for Rebecca to lead the way, because despite being there for ages, who belongs to which room get so muddled up in his head.

“It’s this way.” Rebecca said, her augments making her eyes shine in a bright neon green in the total darkness as she held out her handgun firmly as she moved forward in the corridor that led down the run of several personal quarters for the administration of the base.

“You’d think I would’ve noticed that your eyes do that,” Percy mumbled, unable to keep himself from grinning a little.

“Daadd...”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“First the boobs, now the eyes. You’re a charmer, Percy Moore. I bet if it wasn’t as dark as it is, you’d be looking at my—”

“There is a child present, Becca.”

“Pretty sure that same child is the one that unearthed your ‘magazines’.”

Rebecca was never short for teasing him, and it drove him insane. How was he supposed to think straight with a woman like this around? One that put him through literal hell to prepare him for Graham’s little test. Then again, he did pass. As he grumbled, that’s when the reality of what Rebecca had actually said clicked. If his neck could turn backwards he would’ve been looking right at his daughter.

“Did you find them again? You little turd, how do you keep finding ‘em?”

“You keep putting them under the bed… It’s not hard.”

“We’ll.. We’re talking about this later, alright? You can’t keep doing that.”

“Who even buys paperback in this century, anyway?”

“Can we not be talking about this right now?” Percy’s face was positively red at this point and only Reb could see it.

“Commander Marek?!”

The voice shot out in the darkness, but Percy could barely make out a person-sized shape in the darkness. But the voice sounded familiar — like he had heard it before. Wait, the guy who took their attendance on the day Graham unveiled his test; what was his name again? Jon Inane? Ignot? Ignan. That was it. At least it was a friendly voice… sort of. Just like Graham and a bunch of the other ‘command’ types, Percy always got the feeling that the guy was a giant asshat.

“Ignan, I’ve got friendlies!”

“And a kid,” Percy added, more than likely overpowered by Ignan’s voice.

“Approach!”

Rebecca nodded as she led the two behind her past Ignan and into the personal quarters that had been designated as the secure zone— she had envied Graham’s living space since she had gotten hired on with the rest of the big names, but the man didn’t really use much of it and that much would’ve been clear had the furniture not been propped up as a temporary cover. The room itself was well lit due to the deployment of several flares and the light exhibited from each individual soldier that had actually been on duty in this section of the base at the time; but there was as many people like Rebecca in the equivalent of their civvies with nothing more than a handgun or rifle on their person to indicate their position.

Rebecca moved forward as Commander Graham was apparent while he talked with Ingram Kalfox about the situation in the equivalent of the quarters “living space”. There were plenty others, too; women, men, children. Rebecca hadn’t been lying when she said it had been designated as a secure zone. It didn’t take long for Graham to pause his conversation with the notice of Percy and his little ‘family’.

“Moore. Marek. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Likewise.”

[Mcmolly]

E L I

Personal Quarters, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours (2:00 AM) ]]

Get up, Elizabeth.

And she did.

Eli’s eyes were open upon at the first echo, after which there were two reactions she had a split moment to decide upon. On reflex alone the hand beneath her pillow closed tight around the handle of the blade she kept there, which influenced her choice only somewhat.

Threat or inconvenience.

I can’t tell yet.

Figure it out.

I’m trying.

Elizabeth–

The sounds of distant violence continued only a moment more, and the decision was made. In routine long-practiced, long burned into her mind from morning after morning of trial, she moved. A quick, fluid motion altogether, her free hand slid beneath the pillow and briefly braced itself against the rough leather sheathe, just long enough to assure the blade was pulled free when she rolled. There were advantages, she knew, to sleeping above the covers. Being on the bottom bunk was an advantage, she was sprawled like a hunter on the hard ground without so much as a thud to tell it, but for the moment it didn’t matter.

Her eyes scanned the room, and she saw that she wasn’t alone in her alarm. Stein was awake and mobile, Agatha, albeit slower, was as well, there was Ryn’s voice in the distance, and she heard Joshua too. Nothing hostile, at least not immediately.

People are missing.

They left weeks ago.

Eli cursed herself as she rose, thoughts addled by her first waking moments. The empty bunks weren’t a concern, the people present were. Her first concerns went to Graham and the NC’s; aside from themselves, those seemed like the most likely targets, unless there was an attack on the settlement itself.

A chill like rigid lightning ripped up her spine, a sudden tremor rocking her shoulders.

Mother.

They’d have hit it first if it was their real target.

She’s in danger.

Focus.

The armory was the best shot. She’d spent countless hours of the past weeks plugged into that damn simulation preparing for this exact scenario. Well, it wasn’t the mess hall, but it was close enough, and it was time to see how much of what she’d learned holding simulated firearms translated over to actual combat, and not just a meager test.

Wordless, Eli moved to follow Stein, and couldn’t help the shaky thoughts that came to her. Her squad CO was calm, which was good, but even then it was hard to place faith in her.

It’s her.

No it isn’t.

A passing thought, another reflex, and one she put no stock in. If Stein had wanted them dead, she’d have done it in their sleep. If anything, the people up and present were, if not trustworthy, the least likely to put a knife in her back. Even some that weren’t present she could at least write off as allied. Percy was fine, Ana was fine, Graham was a non-variable, which left few options outside of the staff and administration. With a silent dread she found herself hoping the traitor wasn’t someone she knew. Lofgren, Kat, there were many options, none of them good.

There might not be a traitor.

There’s always a traitor.

Again she stopped, but this time it wasn’t out of distrust or caution. She whirled around on her heel and headed the other way down the barracks, towards Vera’s bunk. In all honesty, despite technically sharing a room, the stark division had been somewhat jarring for her in the first days. In personal quarters, even back home, the girl had been in arm’s reach through the night, which she viewed as a comfort both ways. If anything wanted to get to Vera, it had to get through her first, now it was a bit more complicated. Besides, she wasn’t sure how she felt about her sleeping above Tahlia.

The thought alone made her draw the woman’s immediate loyalty into question, but she quickly repressed it. She clambered up the end of the bunk and dragged Vera’s sheets away even before she all the way up. Any deep urge to wake the girl slowly, run a hand through her hair and whisper good-mornings, was overcome by the raw instinct to protect her. Even still, she kept her voice to a low whisper, soothing as she could manage on the back of silence being a necessity.

“Vee, get up we–”

Eli froze. Vera was gone.

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

V E R A

New Anchorage CC Halls
[[ Around 0200 Hours (2:00 AM) ]]

“Ow. Ow. Ow.”

Vera dabbed the paper towel against her neck, and eventually pulled it away unbloodied. Only a few stray spots, but it had been enough of a nuisance to deal with in bed. Craning her head around brought more dull, groaning pain with it, like her bones were trying to push past each other, but it was something she’d gotten used to in the weeks since her surgery. Indeed, the raw flesh around her neural plug had ceased to bleed.

What she hadn’t yet gotten accustomed to was sleeping on her stomach. Lizzy had since they were young, and Vera never knew how she could deal with it. She’d heard once that sleeping that way caused bad dreams, something she now knew was likely false, but back then it seemed to make sense. Regardless, now sleeping on her back simply wasn’t an option. Too much pain, and even if there wasn’t, the plugs had her head on an arch that was more than a bit uncomfortable. So she tried her side, her stomach, and found the latter had her rolling onto her back far less often. Strange, and it kept her up late some nights, but it made incidents like this far less common.

Satisfied, she tossed the paper in the trash, and slowly brought her head back around, catching her face in the mirror. For the most part, she was unchanged. Lizzy told her the hunch was a natural response and would wane away soon, and she caught that certain movements and tics made her face twitch in minute pain, something else she’d been told would wane. Her eyes were more sunken, but that was from the odd sleep habits, and it had been tough showering for a while after the surgery, so her hair was a bit more unkempt than usual. Not that she often saw it like this, undone from the ushanka in the barracks. But the smile was there, even in the ticks, she’d grimace like she’d been told a bad joke, but still thought it was funny.

Stein’s words played in her head again, so often now it usually felt like the girl was there. “This is nothing if you want it.”

”This is nothing if you want it.” She whispered to her reflection, but the small, tiled room echoed it anyway.

She started to laugh, felt the giggle bubbling up from her middle and working its way up. She covered her mouth out of decency, it was late, she didn’t want to wake anyone, and made her way out of the bathroom, down the hall. At first she was headed straight back for the barracks, but a passing entrance caught her attention, and her eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark, could make out the long shapes of tables that filled the mess hall.

It was almost involuntary the way her feet redirected her, an aspect of wanderlust so common she hardly noticed it anymore. Residual pains had kept her up at night, but it hadn’t leant to any explorations, and so the big, sprawling rooms were things she knew only by how the daylight painted them. Looking around, everything was foreign, she couldn’t even place her regular seat for a good handful of moments. The dark never really got to her, even when she was younger. Not to say she particularly liked it, but growing up she rarely had anything to be afraid of when the lights went out. She could sit there at one of the tables, rest her head on her hands and relax without any fear of the odd supernatural, unexplained chill that plagued scores of children and adults alike. Would it have been so bad to fall asleep there? It was arguably more comfortable, even if she was sure she’d wake up sore, or more sore than usual. Already the pleasant numbing provided by the stim injections was beginning to fade, and she knew by then the throbbing would only get worse until her next dose in the morning. Suddenly the prospect of trudging back to the barracks, climbing into her bunk, and trying to fight with her position for a few hours of sleep. It was almost enough to get her eyes shut.

Almost.

The sudden crack made her jump to her feet, would have teased a yelp from her had she not already been making an effort to stay quiet. At first she thought a door had slammed shut, but the sounds continued, and the realization that came to her was slow, but with every piece put together she found herself getting lighter, her stomach twisting tighter, the aching in her neck started burning and all at once she remembered how familiar the feeling was.

”Oh my god.”

The panic began to settle before she could leash it in, and she found herself momentarily frozen there. Lizzy had told her about this, long ago and not so long ago. It wasn’t quite preparation, nothing could have already prepared her for this, but she had points, a list almost, to go on.

Don’t stop moving. Don’t make noise. Don’t approach anyone that isn’t me. If someone sees you, run. If you see someone, run. If you get hit, run. You do not try to save anyone. You do not try to help anyone. You stay alive.

The sounds of gunfire tore through the hall on the back of horrible screams. It jolted her, sent a harsh breath through her teeth and into her lungs, as close a chance as any she’d have to give into fear and scream, scream for help, scream for Lizzy, scream for anything.

Her lips sealed shut, she ducked low. Back home she used to play like this, crouched and nimble, scouring shelves and mounting piles of boxes, precarious cliffs of thick books that only tolerated her weight so long as she didn’t trouble them long. She’d climbed the jagged, jutting and lopsided building too many times to count, all beneath the unaware eyes of her mother and Lizzy. She’d once heard Celina refer to her as a rascal, a scurrying child, and found herself now thankful for it.

The pilots, she wanted to bet, would be safe. Lizzy would be among them, so would Stein, they’d survive. Who did come to mind were Ana and Percy. Separate from the rest, alone, but she didn’t harbor the same doubts about Percy that most of the others seemed to. Something told her that if anyone tried to lay a finger on Ana, they wouldn’t be getting it back.

To her left, more gunfire, more screaming, her hastily gathered composure began to slip. Percy and Ana were too far away, every sharp echo pounding that further into her mind. She could risk going back into the hall to the barracks, but it was also towards the gunshots, and there wasn’t much in the way of things to hide behind and under out in the open. She could stay put, but hiding was a much more risky choice than running. Lizzy hadn’t told her to hide, she’d told her to run.

To her right there seemed to only be echoes of shots from the left. She racked her mind to remember what laid that way; halls, elevators, and offices. The doctors were that way, people she knew she could trust despite Lizzy’s warnings. She figured if they’d tested her and opened her up with knives and and tools and things, they probably didn’t have any sinister plans. Besides, Lofgren was among that crowd, someone she not only trusted, but liked, and in a fit of worry couldn’t help but wonder if she was okay. Would she even be in her office so late? Where did the administration sleep? Maybe she was back in New Anchorage and safe, if it was even safe there. Briefly she worried for her home, the library and Ms. Jackspar, but for now there was nothing she could do for it.

So, her options weighed as closely as she could manage, Vera went right.

’Lizzy’s gonna kill me.'

[Lonewolf685]

A G A T H A

NC Pilot Barracks, New Anchorage CC

[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]

The drastic shift from exhaustive slumber to sudden awareness brought a groan of irritation out of the eldest pilot in the barracks. They were all very much aware that her endurance was lacking when compared to the other pilots, a condition reflected in her NC’s preference for Hit-and-Run tactics as well, so Agatha was understandably irked to be awoken with half the recommended amount of sleep she enjoyed. It was only when her mind registered the noises that clawed at her nostalgic memories of combat did her eyes snap open and the adrenal glands got to work. There was a muffled thud beside her, and upon a slow turning of the head the aged pilot found it wasn’t the result of an executioner but Stein descending to the floor with her usual efficiency of movement. If they didn’t share bunks then she’d likely not heard a thing from New Anchorage's ace pilot.

”I’m up. You got an assessment of what’s going on? Cause I don’t think Graham’s the type for this kind of drill.” Agatha said, rolling off her bunk to come to a crouch on the opposite side of Stein. A rueful smile crossed her face as another pilot asked the same question with far less eloquence and a dangerously high volume for their current situation. There wasn’t anything wrong with a fight outside of their NCs, that was something that the commander had trained them for fairly well in preparation for that Ultimatum of his, but they were all at a horrendous disadvantage if the attackers were inside the base and not a single alarm was blaring in response.

”Never mind then. I’m sure everyone else will ask that. Better question is, where the hell is the nearest armory?”

Stein looked over to her as the “Little Dragon” checked the integrity of her power cells in her laser pistol. “There is an emergency armory down the corridor, one hundred feet northward down the corridor.”

Taking some care not to be too noisy, for all the good that would do once people started waking up, the elder pilot crept to her own strongbox and rummaged inside. Past the spare clothes, basic hygiene products, and a crude doll made of pitted scrap metal, there was her trusted sidearm. A scaled down variant of the Tenormin she had inside the Charon’s right arm made by a Denver-Vegas engineer who was likely enthralled with the old Wild West that the company occupied, it was a sturdy laser revolver that sacrificed firing capacity and recharge time for stopping power and reliability. Agatha favored this not just for its accuracy but for how effective she found it to be in repelling the occasional raider that thought to try and board the Charon without an invitation.

Now though, Agatha wouldn’t mind something with a bit more oomph for the occasion, and getting the other pilots armed and armored would go a long way towards improving their survivability. She crept along till she beside Stein, noting her choice of firearms, grateful that she at least had something beyond her own athleticism to contribute in terms of armament. The skills of pilots like Eli or Stein were considerably, a level of quality that would give them significant advantage in an even engagement on foot or in an NC, but within the tight confines of the corridors, the quantity offered by assault weaponry along with the other disadvantages placed on them makes skill rather moot in comparison.

At the moment there wasn’t much of anything for them to work with beyond two guns and four groggy but awake pilots. The bunks themselves made for poor cover if they were breached then and there, and having been bolted to the floor they couldn’t be repositioned into a more defensible formation even if they wanted to. However, she knew that such an idea would only get them killed all the quicker, as would most direct confrontations or attempts to hide. Here and now, they had a no actual intelligence on who was attacking them. Numbers were unknown, and the static in Agatha’s ear told her that they were cut off from everyone else, so they couldn’t rely upon anyone else in New Anchorage to aid them.

”Well, it looks like our only choice is get some gear and hunt these bastards down before they corner us. Can’t say whether or not they know this base better than us, but if they are clearing room to room then we can certain they are slower than us for now. If they’ve knocked out the lights, then they are probably using it to their advantage, meaning they got lights of their own or some extra hardware.” Agatha assessed as best she could given only the sounds and lack of sight around her.

“If we don’t move we’re dead, and if we move we’re probably dead. Those are great odds, Agatha. Haven’t you ever heard of optimism?”

Joshua Ray might’ve had a point, but at least Agatha was trying to contribute something to the group. The ace wasn’t likely to give a grand rallying speech, Ryn either for that matter, so she thought it prudent to offer her opinion. She couldn’t expect the man who just awoke seconds ago to have any more of an intelligible analysis, even if his own succinct words were rather poignant in how accurate they were.

”Hey, I can be plenty optimistic when the situation suits me, Ray. Besides, I never said we were dead if we move, just that we can’t go about this guns blazing till we got more than these sidearms.”

It wasn’t much to work with, but any understanding they could glean from this chaotic situation would do wonders combating the fear that would otherwise paralyze them.

Fear...oh shit. Agatha’s head snapped away from the doors towards the directions of the private quarters, concern etching into her sharp features. Damn it Percy. You just had to get your own room, didn’t you? I swear if he can’t keep that darling alive I’ll skin him myself.

But there was nothing that Agatha could do for Ana and her father, only able to hope that they get away from their attackers before being discovered. Her thumb caught the safety of the laser revolver, silently activating the power cells within the chamber. They were slow to recharge, and a single shot wouldn’t punch clean through the more advanced body armor available on the market, but she had a two spare loaders if she didn’t feel like waiting around and was determined not to let her new home go up in flames so soon.

Agatha was old, but she wasn’t about to die just yet.

[NuttsnBolts]

Ｔ Ａ Ｈ Ｌ Ｉ Ａ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ Ｓ

Wash Room, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]

A cloud of light smoke filled the air, dancing like a heavy mist on a haunted lake. It's stream slowly rising higher and higher in order to follow the air currents that lead up into the steel, meat-grinder of a fan; a fan that hummed with a gentle chopping sound as it diced the very air it was sucking away.

A deep breath was heard with a stern exhale as Tahlia took another drag of her synthetic cigarette. She had been running low on her supply of Longbeach originals and was keen to save the last few for that special occasion. She needed to restock at some point but finding a distributor that would import her selection was quite the challenge. Until then she had to rely on the more common and readily available artificial kind; it just lacked something to her particular liking. Taste? Warmth? Flavour? She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Tahlia had felt another restless night where she woke up in a cold, sweaty shiver. She had left the barracks to venture off to the wash room and pat down her face. She needed to reset her mind and allow it to relax once more. It would have been a lot easier with alcohol, but thanks to Graham's Test recently she hadn't been drinking as often. The metho dulled the senses and woke up emotions that were eroding away over time. In an odd sense she felt more alive with the poison than she did normally.

Alive....

The faint rumble of steel framing echoed throughout the room as the sound of an explosion resonated through the walls. The vibrations alone were enough to rattle the dust of the now flickering lights above, sending a layer of dirty snow down on the female below. Tahlia reactively tilted her head and watched herself in the mirror as she disappeared into darkness, her body leaning up against the vanity unit. Light had disappeared from her sights and the humming whirs of electronics slowly faded into nothingness. She gave a light sniffle and pulled up her datatool one last time only to see the usual empty inbox that was framed with a glowing back-light.

"Fuck-it..." she cursed looking at the time; it was impromptu. There was nothing that should have been planned for this late hour, not even a test or drill. It only left one scenario... A raid.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" the slander rolled out of her mouth as she grabbed the emergency override to the door, twisting it and activating the manual release. This however wasn't what was quite on her mind as she was more concerned about how she had become too complacent and stopped equipping her pistol, a L6 Star-Shooter.

The small, personal, laser gun was back next to her bed, buried within her personal lock-box. The chances of her making it back to the bunks unharmed was slim and thus another plan needed to be formulated. As Tahlia's head popped out of the bathrooms she could hear the gunshots from down the hall and the faint screams of dying personnel, a sound that reinforced the dangers of short-sighted thinking. She turned back into the wash room, remembering what was around that she could use as some makeshift style of weapon. Anything temporary was better than facing a loaded barrel with nothing but fists.

Toilet, wash basin, glass mirror, shower rose...

The shower rose was a solid piece of steel pipe that extended out from the wall and curved to face the floor below. It's large circular head and dirty chrome housing reflected the light of Tahlia's datatool making it barely visible through the darkness. She grabbed it, using her might and twisted her body to apply extra force. A faint crack was heard as the rust released it's firm hold, leaving only squeaks and screams as the inanimate object's threaded limb was abruptly being removed.

Tahlia felt the weight of the metal in her hands. It wasn't a lot and surely wasn't going to kill anyone, but it was something. She returned back to the entrance door and listened out, noting that the footsteps and screams were moving more away from her location rather than towards it; a logical move seeing as the majority of people would be in the sleeping quarters and not the wash rooms. All she had to do now was move, move in a way that would not lead to her own death.

[DruSM157]

Alan Fouren

NC Pilot Barracks, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

It’s ugly.

That was the first thought Alan Fouren had when he saw the Wild Wolf being carried in via a rusted loader. The armor was discolored and looked heavier on the right side. He’d later learn that they’d scavenged some of the armor off of old tanks left behind in the prewar. The town had wasted nearly all its funds to get the Wild Wolf running and battle ready; and even then they couldn’t afford to completely outfit it with surplus armor. The fact that it ran at all was miraculous.

Dead Springs was a part of a group of towns in the north border of Neo-Atlanta. Built in a sweet spot between two very hazardous dead zones—to the west and to the north. It also helped that the area had been home to several military installations; allowing for many junkers to leave the safety of the citadel for a chance to carve out a new life.

Dead Springs. Dry River. The Mound. These little junker towns made up a very helpful route between the megacity and the dead zones—which kept the southeast separated from some of the nicer cities in the north. A buffer zone between the danger that came with the radiation and the mutants. Dry River had been the major trading area; The Mound had carved itself a little niche in housing caravan companies between the big cities. Dead Springs was the odd man out, and it suffered. It was too small of a community to provide a helpful service, and many of the residents just eked out a living collecting scrap to sell at the Dry River market.

That’s when Alan had met the testers—in Dry River. He was one of three men tested from the Springs, and the only one that passed. But that was his chance—he could risk it all and provide for his family and his home. Something better than selling old scrap for the rest of their lives, anyways.

His first crew he met up with were boys from Dry River and The Mound. Dicer, Elicott and Janus. He’d known Elicott from Dry River; his parents ran a little bakery in the town and they got on well enough. Dicer was the oldest of the boys at 19, and he’d been running in his NC for close to a year. He was the closest thing to a commander the four had, even if they were untrained, unskilled and basically acting as extra muscle or guards for most caravan trips. Those days were the best in Alan’s mind, helping protect armorer transports with gear from Maneater Salamanders or from Acid Flies. Heavy armaments tore through thick hides and carapace like a hot knife through butter; and it made them all feel powerful. The money they brought home was what made it worthwhile, and Alan wanted to pay his home back for what they’d done for him.

Beasts he could face any day of the week. But other humans…

They were—

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

BANG

Alan sat up in his bunk, his face covered in sweat. He assumed that something had broken or fallen in the barracks; it was nicer than some of the bunks he’d slept on in the wastes; by far it was so much better--but he knew that things broke all the time. This was a military operation after all. Gunfire changed that groggy half awake attitude into fear.

It’s an attack.

He’d seen night raids in the past; hell, he’d fought off countless ones when guarding caravans. Raiders were the kind of guys who snuck into camp at late night armed with knives and machetes. Cutting down anyone asleep and foolish enough not to hold a night watch; and then the phosphorous or the flares came and the NC attack hit. Sleeping Man’s Noose. The lights were out. He felt the stale air permeate through the room. The ventilation systems were off. No emergency lights were on either.

This isn’t like a normal raider attack.

He heard the voices from the other side of the barracks. Stein. Ryn. Ray. He counted them as at least alive in this situation, which meant that the barracks room hadn’t been breached yet. It meant that they still had time to arm themselves and get ready for a fight.

“Alright, everyone get the fuck up!” Alan jumped from his top bunk and slammed onto the floor. “If you’ve got a gun or a knife stashed away, fill your hands now. He moved deeper into the darkness, groping around the corner of the room, feeling for something. Where was it? He’d seen the staff in the barracks the day earlier, dismantling one of the beds…

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Nervous glances followed Alan to the corner of the room. He approached the gathering group, groping metal posts in his arm. Alloy bedposts. Not easily bent but lightweight and with enough heft to shatter a skull. Alan was used to weapons like that in the wastes; you didn’t get to prepare or arm yourself out in the shit. No, you had to make do with what you had or what you found out in the junk. He’d split enough skulls with shovels, water pipes and the sort in the past. Bedposts were new, but he figured he could do some damage.

“We won’t win a straight up fight with the heat they’re packing outside,” he said. “Automatic fire, and it sounds high caliber. I’d rather not open that door and become a bloody hunk of swiss.” He placed the extra metal rods on a free mattress, for anyone without a gun to arm themselves. “We pry off the vents. Move where they don’t expect us. Don’t attack unless we know we can win a fight with ‘em. And get to that fuckin’ armory.”

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

7 Days Ago // Graham’s Office, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 1400 Hours]]

He’d been called into the Commander’s office. Why the fuck Graham wanted to see him was completely unknown to him. Maybe it’d been about the tests. Alan wondered if Graham had caught on to his actions during the test; purposefully holding back, missing shots, running slower and doing things wrong to keep his score in the low rung. He kept himself from failing; he knew he could easily get by without. But keeping expectations low was the purpose. He realized how low the stakes Graham had with pilots like Moore and Callaway being seriously considered. An Ace was more likely to get put on the front lines, special missions--missions where you could easily be torn the fuck apart. Those weren’t the missions Alan wanted. He’d seen enough of that.

"You wanted to see me, commander?" Alan noticed that the Commander was busy studying a datapad, barely acknowledging the other man’s entrance in the room.

"Yes. Congratulations, Fouren— I'm assigning you as Beta Squadron Commander."

Alan's heart dropped. "Are...you joking, commander? Why me?" He looked at his listing. "Come on, Sedgwick's military. Why not him?" What the fuck made a waster capable of leading a squad of soldiers. Graham was DV military. Sedgwick was a DV military brat. Hell, even Agatha flew for DV, even if she wasn’t a decorated officer. Any of them should have had the experience to outrank him all day long.

“Sedgwick never took down a whole raider contingent by himself with a compromised sniper as back-up.” Graham's face kept to his monitor screen. “Nor did he plan out an elaborate ambush of five raider settlements in the greater northern Georgia territory in the course of only a month.”

Alan sighed. "I was hoping my test scores and my trial time would make all that look fabricated."

“You have a habit of proving to be a good tactician and leader. Tell me something, Fouren. How is it that you have made a career out of outsmarting and outgunning more equipped enemies when they outnumber you? Why do you think that is?”

"I mean..." Alan looked down. "I just do what I have to in order to survive commander. I'm no military man. I just kick and bite and cheat until I win."

“That’s how people like us survive— corporate, waster, raider… we’re all the same at the end of the day, and those who can’t don’t.” He flicked the holoboard in front of his monitor. “The information on your squad has been sent on over to your datatool. Take a look.”

Alan scanned the list. "Ryn. She's a good sniper. I've worked with her on a few jobs. I trust her." He flicked down. "The soldier boy is a good man. His loadout is useful in a close firefight." And finally, "Commander. Are you kidding?" He looked at Madison's file. "She's already been through the grinder!"

“She’ll need you when she is operational again and she will be.”

"I feel like you want me to work miracles here."

“No. I want you to get the job done and lead by example. I sincerely doubt Stein Kalfox is thrilled with ‘guiding’ Percy Moore, but she’s expected to.”

"Percy and Ordent aren't that cracked, if you pardon my bluntness commander."

“You haven’t even read her dossier yet and are making judgements. Heh. I thought you cared about people, Fouren.”

"I care to an extent. I'm not interested in making friends. You hired me for my work as a pilot, not a social butterfly. I'll keep them in line and keep them alive, but I'm not gonna start throwing them birthday parties."

“Indeed. However, if I wanted you to throw them such occasions you will, but of course you know such things as you signed the digital contract. Unless you wish to lose your insurance and benefits from the position the contract allows.” Graham replied, though the words seemed unnecessary it was times like this he felt he had to assert control. “I’d familiarize yourself with your team now.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Alan left the office more pissed off than he’d been in a while. That fire burnt deep in his stomach. He wasn’t a leader. He’d never led a squad; just picked up the slack when others died. He didn’t have what it took to suddenly lead an entire team when shit hit the fan. He knew he’d freeze up and lose it when things got bad.

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

Alan was busy prying the cover off the vent. “Ryn, Stein-” he called to the women. “You two can crawl through here.” It was funny. Here he was, doing everything to try and protect these people. Was it simply his own survival instincts kicking in? Was Graham right?

[NuttsnBolts]

Ｍ Ａ Ｄ Ｉ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ｃ Ｏ Ｌ Ｅ

Medical Ward, NC Operations HQ, New Anchorage
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]

The eyes exploded open with a sense of deja-vu that just didn't feel quite right. The white ceiling and sounds of medical equipment were replaced with blackened silence, except for the sound of an explosion nearby. Madison knew instantly that something wasn't right, especially when she heard the staff outside instantly erupt into a panic. The only reason why she was still in the ward was because the team were apparently still performing some test, making sure that she was ready to be re-plugged into an NC. Aside from that the girl was due to to be released any time now.

It just turns out that "now" was perhaps the best time to officially sign out of the hospital.

Madison leapt up off the bed and rushed towards the corridor, her bare feet hitting the hard glossy floor and trying to gain traction. She watched as various personnel sprinted past the entrance and down towards her right. The ingenious thought popped into her mind that these people knew what they were doing and to follow them was the best option. With her right arm held out Madison grabbed the door jamb and swung her body around the corner in order to preserve the motion that she was generating.

_*Thump!*

"Ergh—" Madison's entire chest and face slammed into the wall, her hand still gripping the corner. She glanced over across her hard pressed nose and saw that her bionic arm had refused to release its iron grip, a clear indication that she was still getting used to her new limb. The girl snarled, pushed away from the wall and began tugging against the anchor. "C'mon! You stupid hunk of junk!" Madison argued, "Stupid, stupid, STU— Oh shit!"

The hand released itself, finally obeying the command of it's master but not before sending her flying backwards and into a service trolley. The rattle and jingle of contents could be heard crashing around her as she landed, but there was no time to worry about the mess. Madison simply looked up and saw the crowd of people gaining distance on her. She clambered herself up in the most unconventional and unflattering way possible and began jogging in the general direction of the others. She had to catch up, she didn't want to be left behind.

_{*Thwack, Thwack, Thwack...*}

Blood spewed through the air as the runners passed by an intersection, their bodies instantly becoming limp and collapsing like rag-dolls. Madison skidded to a stop and her face froze in horror. She knew instantly that if her arm had not played up, if she didn't land on top of the trolley, she would have been one of those poor souls. It was a true sliding doors moment where seconds made the difference between her life and her death. She had to get out of there, she had to go in the opposite direction.

Madison about-faced and kicked off the ground, initiating a fresh sprint in the reverse direction to which she was initially travelling. Madison turned the corner, and another; the fear had taken over. She could feel the eyes watering up, she didn’t wanna die. Not here… Not now, and then she tripped. Madison stumbled over something in the darkness as she fell on top of a small bodily figure.

"Ow!"

The yelp was muffled both by the impact, as well as the figure themselves. It didn’t take them long to scramble up, though even standing upright they weren’t particularly tall. The halls were still dark, but apparently not dark enough to impair their vision. Perhaps they’d been in it long enough to adjust.

"Madison?" quiet, but the whispered query could still be heard. "It's Vera, oh my god are you okay?"

"Ruski!!!!" Madison grabbed Vera and gave her a massive hug before standing back up. She was relieved to see that someone she knew was still alive and well, but an important question was on her mind. "What are you doing out here!?!"

"Wha—I ju—!"

Before she had a chance to answer another rogue gunshot was heard, interrupting Vera's response. Madison grabbed the young girl’s arm and pulled her to her feet.

"We gotta go!" she instructed, speaking like an actual adult for the rare time in her life.

[Cenco]

O R R Y

Simulation Labs, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]

With the rush of adrenaline still coursing through his body, Orry had to force himself to focus on his breathing to begin getting it under control. He cursed in frustration under his breath as he quickly undid the straps that held him in the Simulation NC Pod’s seat, needing the extra freedom of movement. Balling his hands into fists and stretching out his toes, he confirmed he still had all his limbs. Of course he did— but having just had two of them blown off of Red Rover during the simulation by sniper-fire, he couldn’t help but instinctively check.

Several more quiet moments passed before the boy felt calm enough to climb out of the pod, taking one last deep breath and letting it go as a disappointed sigh. He had been improving, that much was clear— but considering he had begun with absolutely zero experience, that wasn’t saying much. He just wasn’t improving enough. Every other pilot in New Anchorage was still far ahead of him; a fact that was entirely expected, considering he’d only participated in his first simulation a month ago— and even if he had as much experience as they did, Orry believed he’d still be the weakest link, but that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t about being better than any of them, it wasn’t about impressing anyone, and it wasn’t about gaining their acceptance; the only thing that mattered was being good enough that, when the time came, no one would die due to his incompetence.

Orry glanced towards Dr. Lofgren, seated at her usual spot behind her desk. The boy went to open his mouth to speak to her, but hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt roll through him— he had been in this room enough times that he knew she didn’t have a very normal sleeping schedule, but he still felt bad about keeping her up and busy at these hours nearly daily. Doing his best to shake the feeling away, his eyes moved down to the datatool on his left wrist, files on Red Rover’s past excursions with previous pilots open on it. He navigated to one in particular: a report on one of the red mech’s battles against a longer ranged NC. His eyes scanned over the words even though he could almost recite the entire thing verbatim from memory by now— it was more of an idle gesture to make himself look busy as he steeled himself to talk to the doctor.

“Could I redo that, please… uh, ma’am,” he spoke up, eyes moving up from his wrist. “Something similar, I mean. Similar scenario, but same difficulty and all...” He trailed off, a small, apologetic smile appearing on his face as he did his best to ignore the shame he was feeling from asking for even more of the woman’s time.

The boy rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, moving over to a chair against the wall of the room, his gray hoodie and thin black jacket laying in a pile on the seat. He picked up the hoodie and threw it on first, and then the jacket over it, giving him space to sit down for a moment while he waited for the simulation to be set up. He sat leaned forward with his head facing the ground, staring hard at his hands and still dwelling on his inadequacies.

Stop wasting her time, you selfish dick. Complete the sim this try or accept that you can’t do it and piss off.

Both his wrists were were wrapped in white bandages, covering his hands but leaving his fingers free, meant to help prevent any sprains or dislocations—the only time he didn’t have any on lately was when he was showering, immediately replacing the bandages with new ones after. He picked at the material with a finger, realizing how used to it he had become—like wearing the datatool, it had become a part of his skin and he no longer ever noticed it on him, despite how much it had bugged him at first.

His expression softened at the train of thought, and he caught himself smiling, not even certain as to why at first. Maybe it was the fact that it was some small proof that he was adjusting to this new life— after the past year, any semblance of stability made him happy. It was a far cry from how he had lived before, but maybe it’d be enough for him.

“Give me a momen—” Lofgren’s voice began but as soon as she stated the comment the echo of a loud ‘bang’ thundered from underneath them and before they knew it the entire lab went dark. No back-up power fluttering back on, none of it. He wouldn’t have known it but he was sure that Lofgren was frowning in displeasure.

The sudden noise and rumble started the boy out of his thoughts, his head snapping up and pain flaring through his still sore neck at the motion. He froze in the darkness and felt his heart rate spike, not even daring to breathe as he tried to understand what had happened while the noise echoed and died. Dread began to grip him, a heavy silence setting in. The power going out was strange enough on it’s own, but accompanied by what had sounded like an explosion…

Orry swallowed hard, turning on the display for his datatool, the light it gave off helping cut through the darkness ever so slightly. He fumbled with the screen, turning the brightness all the way up.

“Was… that a bomb?” he asked, as much to himself as to the doctor, his voice strained as he finally began breathing again.

“It sounded like an issue from within the power station… but we should have backup protocols in case of emergencies and need for them— curious and foreboding that they are not activating immediately.”

He heard screams and gunfire echo through the halls, breaking the impossible stillness in the labs. Were they being attacked? That’s what had to be happening, right? No, no, it couldn’t be, not yet. Not yet, he wasn’t ready.

No no no no no no no!

Whoever the attackers were, they didn’t care that he wasn’t ready.

Orry clutched at his chest, feeling his heart beating uncontrollably. Wide eyes locked on the lab’s closed door, the distant screams of the dying commanding his attention and making him feel sick. He couldn’t stop wondering who they were, having their lives undeservedly ripped away from them so violently. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? All he could think of for now was to get himself to stop panicking, as warranted as it might be in the situation. He had to keep himself calm, or he’d be even less than useless. He was in a military outfit now, of course an attack was a possibility. He couldn’t panic so quickly—he hadn’t even seen anything yet.

Don’t lose it already, dirt. Make yourself at least a little useful before you have a fucking breakdown and eat a bullet.

Orry nodded to himself shakily, blocking out the sounds coming from the halls as best he could, and went back to purposefully controlling his breathing. His mind worked as he tried to think of what would be the best course of action. He wasn’t sure about best, but he knew what appealed to him the most right now. Staying put seemed like a sound idea to keep himself alive, but he didn’t matter, not nearly as much as the other pilots. As nervous as the thought made him, he wanted to head out of the room and try to find the others—especially Ana, Madison, and Vera, whom he found himself worrying about the most.

He stood up from his seat, running a hand through his hair nervously as he shot a glance over to Dr. Lofgren, looking for some sort of direction from her. The woman was one of the reasons he was hesitating to run out of the room— he didn’t want to leave her alone. She was as important as any pilot, and he liked her. Not that he’d really be able to leave someone he didn’t like, but it was an extra point in her favor. Though he was certain the fear he felt had to be noticeable in his expression, Orry did what he could to hide it behind a thin mask of determination— he had to convince himself he could keep it together.

That’s when he noticed that Lofgren had stood up from her desk as she moved over to a nearby locker nonchalantly.

“Catch.” She uttered as she opened it manually, retrieving something from within and tossing it towards him as she continued skittering through the locker. As Orry’s hands moved to catch the item he noticed what it was— a basic handgun that used power cells to generate thermal energy; or as it was known contemporarily, a laser pistol.

The boy fumbled with it a bit, taken by surprise, but managed to not shoot himself. He tightened his grip on it, making sure it was pointed to the ground and away from either of them. He glanced between it and Lofgren, thankful to have a weapon but not fully trusting himself with it. It was better than nothing though; the bad guys likely wouldn’t know he was a terrible shot. Actually, they probably didn’t care either way. He decided to keep his concerns about how much help the gun would actually be to himself, since he knew she was just as aware of the fact as he was.

More comforting than the gun was how little Lofgren seemed to be fazed; it helped him keep calm as well.

“Right, so… how’s this gonna go?” he asked, making sure the gun’s safety was off.

Lofgren closed the locker, leaning what appeared to be a shotgun of sorts against her shoulder as she turned to look back at him. “We need to regroup. By my estimates it is safer to head deeper into the medical and science facilities since the nearest gunfire is in the opposite direction. I would prefer not to die, so I would recommend we being quick with approaching. There is also an emergency armory adjacent to the medical ward.”

The boy stared as she spoke, taking a moment to get over the weapon she had chosen. A small smile broke his tense expression as her words registered—they’d be going to find others.

He nodded, smile dropping as he bit the corner of his lip, the idea of going outside the room not a pleasant one. He moved to the door, holding his breath to listen and try to judge if there was anyone near on the other side. It sounded clear. He glanced over to the woman nervously, reaching to place his hand on the manual release.

“Unless you want to wait for them to corner us, I’d advise you to pull the latch.”

“R-Right,” he barely managed, squeezing the pistol's grip in his hand before pulling the door open with the other.

[Voltus_Ventus]

J I N G O

NC Pilot Barracks, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

The sound of the distant gunfire dragged Jingo out of his slumber, firstly to his annoyance then to his concern. The feeling of tiredness drained out of him quickly, in its stead was replaced a quiet alertness. Rolling out of his bunk Jingo realized how dark it was, he could barely make out figures in the gloom. Thankfully Skitters was on hand, the sound of metal claws tapping and scratching across the ground before stopping at Jingo's feet. A gentle, blue-white light emitted fuzzily out of the dog's muzzle lens, casting a small bubble of light Jingo could see in. Walking silently to his locker, Jingo disengaged the lock and produced from it his prosthetic arm from the back, quickly attaching it and looping the leather straps around his shoulder.

John reached into his locker for the second time, still fiddling with the leather strap, he looked over his shoulder and whispered for his dog to increase the light intensity slightly. As Skitters did, he watched his fellow pilots converge around Stein. Rummaging around in the back, he felt the hooks of his prosthetic hand scratch against a metallic object, hooking it through the trigger guard, he pulled out his Commodore C64 and fell behind the others.

The first thing that came to Jingo's mind was Percy and his daughter. He hoped that they would be safe and was confident that Percy would defend her with his life, but Jingo wasn't sure how long that would last. Listening on the chatter just in front of him, Jingo nodded, all of what was being said was sensible and getting a gun he could actually wreck face with would definitely be nice. Then a thought came to him.

"Is i' really eh gud ideer te guu te tha armory?" he whispered, "Ey mean.. Don'ee think they'll be expectin’ us?" as he spoke, he scratched the top of Skitter's head, making the dog's gyros move in a way that it enjoyed.

"Ey think we shud go somewhere there'll be guns tha' they would nee expect?" Jingo thought to where guards would have been posted. Odds are the assailants would have left their victims' firearms on the ground.

"Bu' we'll need eh distraction," he mumbled to himself. As he did, Skitters dimmed his brightened snout light, the blue-white glow changing its intensity and annoying him. Jingo gave the metallic dog a bit of a smack on the head, jarring it's gyros and making it stop with its lackluster light show.

“Our datatools have integrated flashlights in them,” Alan got very quiet for a moment. “If they took out our vision, it means that they can probably see in the dark. They’ve either got some night vision or cybernetics for that. At least, that’s what I’d guess. They want us off our edge.”

He pressed a button, shining the bright beam of light from his datapad into the darkness. “Has anyone ever used a low-light sensor in a NC?”

Alan smirked. “Any light source burns your vision for a second.”

“Me tho’s exac’ly.” Jingo said, watching Skitters. Despite giving him a good thump, Skitters continued to play with his light. “Li’le bugger, wakes me up every mornin’ wit tha’ fuckin’ li.”

Stein sighed irritably as she looked around her, her glance spending the longest upon Jingo in particular as she approached the ventilation tunnels that Alan had previously mentioned to her and Ryn. “If everyone would remain calm, that would be preferable. The situation is not one to make light of— we need to operate quickly and efficiently or we will not live through it at all.”

Jingo pursed his lips and nodded, looking down at his feet as if he were a child being told off; maybe he was just being silly.

“You are correct as per your analysis of the ventilation, Fouren.” She swiped through her datatool. “Based on the schematics of the facility, this leads straight to the armory in our sector, which could bypass all of the manual lockdown effects we need to. I sugge—”

“Pffft, not even a problem. Leave it to me.”

“Very well. As for the rest of us, I suggest we organize under the present commanding officers and move quickly and efficiently. If we talk much longer and waste time we will be affront to assault rifle fire. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I do not wish to die tonight.”

“If tha’s tha case,” he muttered, “le’s get a plan tugether.”

[Gowi]

S T E I N

NC Pilot Barracks, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

Stein took a light breath as she stood in front of the group as Kathryn Dradht descended into the ventilation system as per Alan Fouren’s suggestion. Stein wasn’t sure what to make of the orange-haired girl’s abilities but she had survived on her own for several years so she imagined she was at least partially competent despite having what possibly could’ve been one of the most annoying personalities among the pilots hired by Commander Graham’s administration. In many ways she was glad she hadn’t been assigned to her squad and was thankful that the members of her squad were all proven to be capable outside of one obvious exception in Percy Moore. One such person that she was glad she didn’t have to deal with in the state of crisis like this— though she couldn’t help be curious about whether he was dead or alive in his “private” quarters he had assigned due to his insistence for watching Ana at all times.

The clattering of more automated fire made Stein look over at the group as her eyes looked over the individuals who were here— Smith, Jackspar, Strange, Ray, and Fouren. With Cole still in the ICU, Dradht in the vents, and the rest of the group unaccounted for per her knowledge there was only one setup she couldn’t designate for the time being. Each and every single one of them had been trained to work as a squad, though it had remained to be seen how well they took to Commander Marek’s conditioning and drills; Stein really wished that it didn’t have to be this particular situation where she found out. As if channeling her former commander during her time at Volkov she raised her voice clearly and without hesitation.

“Smith and Jackspar with me. Strange and Ray with Fouren. Augments on if you are equipped, weapons ready if you have them.”

“Alright.” Alan looked over to Jingo and Josh. “We'll take the long way around to the armory; try and bypass the obvious route to the barracks. Though, I really wish there was a service tunnel somewhere near the armory— I'd feel better than chancing it in the open.”

Stein nodded, “Try not to get yourselves killed.”

She was a bit concerned she didn’t assign Smith whom actually had a firearm ready with Fouren, but she was a member of her squad and she was responsible for the survival whether she liked it or not. A thought came to her that she didn’t necessarily want to be promoted by Commander Graham despite her not being particularly opposed to it. She wasn’t good at “setting an example” and she didn’t particularly believe in the principle in the first place as she had told the older woman in her squad when they first met. However, orders were orders. Setting off for the door on the left side while Alan made for the one on the right Stein slightly glanced as Alan commented back at her for what could possibly be their last interaction with each other.

“Same with you. Not that I'm too worried. You might be a hardass, but you're strong enough to survive this.” Alan set his data tool to flash on command and hefted the metal pipe over his shoulder. “Well gentlemen, let's be sneaky.”

She hadn’t ever dealt with something like what was going on but she felt confidence and assurance from the comment for some reason.

Yes, I am tough enough.

She wasn’t sure why such words were a comfort as she had never really dealt with such sentiments in her past; especially not with her former squad back in Seattle— though there had been one exception in the past with her commander, Roxa Vox, when she told her to be strong like stone and basically gave her the nickname of Stein in the first place. Had she found the comparison more amusing she might’ve smirked at the comedic sensibility it embodied. She nodded back at Fouren and held up her free hand to her squad to indicate to stick close to her.

“Noted.”

[Ladypug]

P E R C Y

Graham’s Quarters, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours (2:00 AM) ]]

Percy let Ana down to stand on her own two feet once again, the girl siding right up to her father. The pilot looked her over, the bit of neutrality that had been on his face replaced with concern; Ana still looked scared, even in the safe zone. He wasn’t exactly surprised by it, of course, but he’d think that her fear would lax, not get worse.

“Everything will be okay.” Percy said, causing Ana to look up at him. She looked on the verge of tears. Percy couldn’t help but wince at the sight. In an attempt to hopefully ease his daughter’s worries, he kneeled to her level so they could comfortably maintain eye contact, going to wrap his arms around her in a hug. “Ana, I promise—”

“—and you promised...” Ana pushed her father away, eyes narrowed in anger, “...that you’d always be there for me, and you weren’t the last time something like this happened.” The girl’s hands clenched into little stubborn fists as she crossed her arms. She turned her head to the side as well, looking to the wall, very obviously trying to keep how upset she’d gotten to herself. Her voice was softer as she added, “I’m just waiting for this to go wrong, too.”

“Ana, it’s not going to go wrong - I’m not going to leave you alone. I’ll be right here, I swear.”

“If that’s what you want to do.” Rebecca commented as she leaned back against a wall, her robe fluttering from her movement as she let out a light sigh due to what Percy could presume was from the tense situation they were in.

“What else would you have me do, Rebecca?” Percy realized a little too late he came off rather aggressively, but at the same time... Seriously? ”Would you rather I get shot? I kinda like being alive, thanks.”

“I don’t know. How much do you care about your squad?” She quipped, albeit a little passive aggressively.

“Not nearly as much as my daughter.” What kind of question was that, even?

“Tch.” Her tongue connected with her teeth as she adverted her eyes in disappointment.

“Your daughter has nothing to worry about.” The voice of Commander Graham chimed in as he looked over the three. “All children will be evacuated first— the concern of their safety is priority one, should it come to a need to fall back. That said, I have no intention of letting a bunch of traitors sneak through my base without consequences. You can skulk here in my quarters while you wait for their crosshairs or you can refuse to be a coward, the choice is yours. Personally, I am going out there and settling this myself. Commander Marek, you’re in charge here while we divide the remaining essential forces into teams of six. We need to get to the nearest armory immediately or we are as good as dead.”

“Of course, sir. You sure you don’t need me out there?”

Commander Graham shook his head to her question before setting off with handgun in hand. For Percy, there was burning fire rising in his chest. This was the second time Graham had personally called him a coward and the fourth time since he became a NC pilot that it had been uttered to his face. He hated it— what the hell did they know about him? Hint: nothing.

Percy raised his voice slightly in the hopes Graham could hear him speak, “Just for the record, I’m about done with being called a coward. I’m-”

“Whatever, Percy.”

The dismissive comment came from Rebecca, not Graham— and really Percy wasn’t sure what to make of it as he began to have a realization about the situation. His squadmates were sleeping in their bunk and, by the sound of the echoing weapons he had heard in the halls, meant that were a lot of them… over a dozen if he had to put any remote guess on the situation. Stein and Eli were resilient, sure, and Agatha was a veteran but how ready could they get if they had been the first gunshots he heard? They could very well be dead; all of them. Eli, Vera, Jingo, Alan, Joshua, Stein, Agatha, Ryn… splattered against the walls of the barracks. How fortunate had he been if his gut was right that he had argued for his own quarters with Ana?

Percy’s heart was audible in his own head and all he was doing was sitting there thinking about this. He didn’t even want to imagine what the others were thinking living it.

“What could I be doing, then? If Ana’s really safe here, I-I’m not gonna go out and get shot at without someone watching my ass. I don’t have bionic eyes.”

“…yeah, you’re right. It’s quite a bit of sprinting to even get half-way to the pilot barracks. It’s just— remember what the principle of the training was that I put you through? To work with your squad as if they are your family. I don’t expect you to run off gun-ho like some gun-toting superhero, alright? It’s just… You want to hide instead of coming up with a solution.” She sighed. “Weren’t you an engineer before? Couldn’t you figure out a way to get the power back on?”

“I guess nobody told you I wasn’t a very good one?”

She laughed albeit nervously. Perhaps it was just the situation getting to her? Could she be as scared as he felt right now?

“If I had someone covering me while I messed with all the wires and shit, sure, I might be able to.”

“...that’d require us to jump down the damned lifts and get down there. Fuck knows if they’ve got bodies down there, too. I mean it’s completely possible, but it's a big risk, ‘specially for us.”

Another voice that Percy recognized, albeit barely— the Russian engineer that was in charge of the hangar that the pilot couldn’t remember the name of. Not that it mattered presently, but man, were there a bunch of people in there or what?

Percy huffed, trying to visualize the facility in his head before remembering that, recently, the blueprints of the facility were able to be accessed through his datatool. He quickly turned the screen on and pulled them up, first locating Graham’s quarters and marking it for convenience's sake; then marking the closest armory, which was several meters down the south corridor; then finally marking the level where the power generators were located. It was clear that the nearest lift that dropped them down the closest distance wasn’t too far off if he took the corridor heading northward of the base.

Trying to go to the armory to load up and then turn around to get the power on would take too much time and we’d lose too many people; gotta do one thing or the other. Doing both would be insane.

He broke his gaze from the screen and counted out how many people already had weapons. Definitely not enough to get these invaders to bug off, let alone kill anyone. Percy could feel his stomach churn slightly at the thought of forcing these people to fight to the death. Not that he really could force them, but nonetheless. He had the briefest of thoughts that maybe he could just let the intruders come to them, but that was an immediate no; Ana could be shot, as well as the other children that were in here. No fucking way was he going to let that happen.

“God dammit, I can’t think of what to do.” Percy mumbled. He raised his voice slightly so Rebecca didn’t have to strain her ears, “Can we just... assume the others are alright, work on getting the power on? Having the lights back on would be an advantage, don’t you think?”

“Well, we’ve got three engineers and some handful of other administrative pups. Got some guns, some pipes. If we’re going to do this we ought to get ready ‘fer it. Quicker we can get it done, quicker we can lessen casualties, I think.”

”So we’re definitely getting those lights back on, right? That’s the plan?”

“It would definitely increase our chances.” The raven-haired Katarina Poux commented as she joined the conversation. “It’s tough to fight in the dark for those who don’t have augments.”

“Alright,” Percy said, looking to both Kat and the Chief Engineer. “We’re doing this, then. For real. We’re really doin’ this.”

“Dad.”

Any ounce of assurance he was capable of handling this crumbled as soon as he heard his daughter’s fearful voice. He didn’t really have to look to feel her cling to him, and he definitely didn’t need to look to feel her gaze on him. “You just said-”

“I know. I know, I know,” Percy said, once again kneeling to her height, “Ana, I- I am very aware of how scared you are. I am too. I…”

Percy grimaced as Ana’s voice cracked, “I don’t want to get stuffed in a box again.”

“Ana, you- These people are so much more capable than Zach is, or ever has been, will be, can dream of being. They, they’re trained to do these kinds of things. You’re not going to be taken. You’re not getting shoved in a box. You’re safe. I promise that you’re safe.”

“I was safe with Zach and-”

Percy didn’t want to pull this, but at this point, he felt he had to. “Vera is in trouble right now. Do you want her to get hurt?”

“No!”

“Then I need to do this.”

[DruSM157]

Alan Fouren

Corridors, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

The darkness was thick and empty, but the worst feeling of all was the dread it exuded. Silence, no lights, no sound, just the ominous cloak of black in front of the men as they slowly filed out of the barracks and into the hall. The entire thing put Alan at unease; he wasn’t too keen on standing in such an open area, especially with men armed with rifles approaching. He knew they had to move fast.Alan had spent a half-decade on his own and in dangerous situations. But he’d never been in a situation like this. Suddenly the safety of the military compound felt more like a coffin, and the wide walls felt as if they would close in on him. This wasn’t safety. It was a death trap.

Jingo looked up and sent a quick prayer to the lord, hoping that he still took requests and requesting to not die.

“Hard te be stealfy wen yer probably op against guys wit nigh' vision.” He mumbled, “Ski'ers, take pooint.”

“We’re going left here.” Alan said, as the robotic dog moved on ahead, his metal claws clicking against the metal and concrete floor. “Well, we’re not gonna win with silence. Jingo, will Skitters alert us if he sees someone down the hall?”

“He dun’ee need ta, odds are tha gunfire will be alert enuf.” Jingo couldn't help himself; the heavy atmosphere and dark mood was insufferable. JJingo hissed, all he could see was the faint speck of light emanating from his ammunition indicator. “Aye ‘we will, you’ll ‘ear the ski’ering stop.”

“Don’t forget, night vision doesn’t mean they can see for miles. Skitters’ sensors are probably better than a set of goggles or cybernetics. Let’s trust him to give a warning on when to find cover or a new route.” Alan closed his eyes and prayed he was right. He’d been in plenty of foxholes before, but he was alone back then; he wasn’t responsible for the lives of others and he didn’t have to rely on others. However, it was here that he needed Skitters’ eyes, Jingo’s aim, and Joshua’s trust.

Jingo nodded despite not being able to be seen. He knew very well of Skitters abilities. The dog was part of a line of robotic canines used for various combat purposes, and Skitters just so happened to be a prison dog versed in indoor spaces and outdoor chases.

As they moved down the long path, Alan’s heart stopped when the scraping of Skitters’ paws came to a halt. Alan immediately knew what was happening. They were in the shit, and bad. They were only a few feet from the next t-junction. But it seemed their luck had already run out; they were cornered. They could go back to the barracks, or try and push ahead. Either way was probably equally as dangerous now.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

In the distance, the sound of dozens of feet in the distance echoed throughout the hall, filling Alan’s ears like the roar of an engine. They were coming. He motioned in the low light for the others to kneel down, and quickly pulled up his datatool’s map; looking for some other route. There was none.

Jingo released a long, silent sigh and flipped the safety off of his pistol, approaching Alan he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “De ye truust me?” Jingo hissed into his ear.

“I mean, we’re all going to die anyway, so why not?”

Alan had gotten used to Joshua’s quips after a month of training alongside him, and had grown to like the other man.Though there was something very much more real and cynical about Josh now, though given the situation and his grogginess it was likely his filter wasn’t exactly present. But there seemed to be something different in the darkness as desperation seemed to engulf them and outside of how Joshua spoke; Alan had caught it for a moment as he noticed Joshua’s stance with his handgun and knife— it was military. So that’s how it was. Alan constantly felt out of place among so many of the pilots; his skills had been largely self-taught. Even though he’d gotten better, enough to purposefully fix his scores during training, but he’d seen how Stein carried herself. How some of the actual soldiers acted. This was like them.

Alan slowly nodded. “Yeah. I trust both of you. What’s the plan?”

“Ligh’ them uup.”

No going back now it seemed. Alan cranked up the strength on his datatool’s light to max and aimed it down the hallway, suddenly erupting the hall into bright white light, enough to get an outline of the five armed figures suddenly stunned by the light show. A perceptive eye would also have been able to see the sprinkler fixture hanging from above the would-be assassins. There it was: this was their chance.

Despite only having one eye, Jingo spotted the metal glint in the combined lights of Skitters and Alan. Taking aim and closing an eye out of habit, Jingo fired, a flash of red light bursting from its muzzle and striking one of the sprinklers.

For a moment Skitters stood still as the assailants writhed in the blinding light, then he pounced. Charging at the closest man, electricity arched between the two electrodes on Skitters muzzle; the taser snapped and sizzled as it pressed into the man’s exposed throat, in the gap between his chin and the collar of his uniform.

The screams of the soldiers were evident as the sound of gunfire and metal echoed in the corridor, as two of the soldiers swung backward— the neon green of their eyes shifting to a crimson red as one of them switched out his weapon.

“SUPPRESSING FIRE!”

A blitz of blue and red flew through the corridors as the two soldiers took aim at the approaching enemies— with three of their own allies in front of them.

“MOVE! FUCKING MOVE, NOW!”

Alan kept his light shining forward, acting as both a target and as a distraction as he serpentined forward, holding his pipe in his free hand. He felt his feet give way with the slick floors, and fell to his ass, sliding forward. It was sheer luck, as red beams of energy tore into the wall he was standing at. Alan felt the heat radiate near his head as he spun in the water, lights flashing from his datatool as he attempted to retain his footing.

Shit, shitshitshitshit-

“Al!”

There was a shout as Alan collided with the side of a metallic bench and considering if he was placed only a few feet to the right it would’ve been straight into the crossing corridors he was lucky and he knew it. His mind raced as he struggled to get to the next step: because right now he was still going to die very, very soon. His eyes caught Joshua’s own who had slung himself in the frame of a locked door; they didn’t have much for cover but both of them were trying to not sprawl themselves in the open. The dark-haired man looked to Alan with an expression that reflected Alan’s own thoughts— we are going to die, aren’t we?

That fearful gaze struck Alan in the stomach. This was it, wasn’t it? He’d led his squad to their death, just like he feared. Deep within his stomach, he felt something burning. A pit of fire. Dicer, split in two. His neck still connected to the charred remains of his NC. Elicott— no corpse to even bury. His geny had exploded, taking him and one of the raiders with him. Janus never even reached his NC. He’d been crushed in the hand of one. These soldiers came into their home and murdered the people they ate beside every afternoon. These bastards were taking everything away. They were going to kill him.

He wouldn’t let them kill his squad.

Alan pushed the bench forward, clenching the metal pole in both hands. He began to scream.

[Mcmolly]

E L I

Personal Quarters, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours (2:00 AM) ]]

Eli held the bunk with a deathly grip, stiff and only just suppressing the shudders crawling their way up her arm. She couldn’t pry her eyes away from the empty cot, the thrown off covers, the dent in the pillow where the girl’s head must have been only a short time ago.

Then she began to hear the gunshots again, only this time they were harsher. Every single one felt as though it were fired off by her ear, cracking against the wall near her head, she felt death hanging off of every moment, every half moment, every fraction of every rapid panicked blink. Only it wasn’t hers.

Vera is gone.

Vera is gone.

It took every last miniscule bit of self control for her not to rush immediately out of the barracks, and even then she might have gone anyway, had she not spotted the empty bunk below Vera’s. The empty bunk that ought not have been empty.

It’s Styles’.

The thought was hardly conscious, but registered in full all the same. Vera shared her bunk with the former Red Star pilot, something Eli was not particularly happy about. She’d seen Red Star, she’d fought Red Star, she’d killed Red Star. As far as she was concerned Tahlia had been on thin strings from the get go.

It’s a coincidence.

No.

She looked around the barracks again, as if the last vestiges of reason were hoping to find Tahlia standing there with the group, ready to go out and defend New Anchorage. Then just as quickly she felt a horrid wave of guilt, the realization that she hadn’t hoped see Vera first was one she was quick to deny as stress-induced. That didn’t stop the anger from rising though, nor did she hesitate to direct that anger at the absent Tahlia.

She took Vera. She betrayed New Anchorage.

Traitor.

Eli dropped down, cold, deft. Her hands were steady, her thoughts collected, every trace of panic and terror vanished, or at least suppressed. The knife was clutched so tight it might have been a part of her hand, which was for the better, being her only weapon. If Tahlia was still in the base, she’d likely be armed, and she might have Vera with her along with however many invaders there still were. It could be a fickle task.

You have help.

You have distractions.

Shaking that thought off was tougher. The others, even if they might not shoot her in the back, likely wouldn’t support her if she outright planned offensively. They’d doubt her, or worse they’d trust Tahlia, and from there things would only go from worse to catastrophic.

So, rearing up near Stein she decided to keep her worries vague. “Vera’s gone, so is Tahlia.”

[NuttsnBolts]

Ｔ Ａ Ｈ Ｌ Ｉ Ａ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ Ｓ

The Corridors, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

The sounds of gunshots and slaughter resonated through the corridors, trapping the innocent occupants in an acoustic nightmare. Each blast leached through the eardrums of Tahlia and bought back the memories of what war was really like; however the years of fighting, the endless battles, and the orders to shell anything on sight had taught her how to block out most of the influences and focus on completing the mission.

This mission... Kill the fucking bastards that invaded her new home.

She shuffled along the edge of the corridor, laying low in a crouch position and slid her left shoulder across the wall in order to limit the strenuous use of her leg muscles. In her right arm she held the shower pipe as she rested it across her shoulder, just light enough so that with a quick flick of the wrist she could swing it towards anything that appeared before her. It was all that she could do at this time until she found a piece of equipment that would give her more confidence, whether it'd be her pistol or a more specialised weapon from the armoury. The only issue was that the armoury was a location that would attract a lot of other parties; a death trap in the making.

The Australian stopped in her tracks as she approached the corner. She could hear the sounds of voices and commotion from down the hallway, the yell of commands from what sounded like opposing forces. Cautiously Tahlia peered around the edge only to quickly pull back when she heard the cracking sound of shots being fired. She counted herself lucky that she didn't decide to dive out into the open, but the realisation that the shots were being fired away from the hallway corner was quite reassuring. Whoever these people were targeting, it was pretty safe to say that it was not her.

"Al!"

The voice, the name, she knew these all too well.

With a second look she could see the powerful shadows of a death squad standing in the hallway, lit up by a light source that franticly dived behind some cover. In the crazed flashes from the data-tool she could see the corpse of a deceased soldier on the ground as the team pressed forward, opening up a storm and driving the defenders into a corner. Tahlia gently placed down her piece of steel and inched towards their exposed rear. She passed an alcove on her left, pausing only when she came close to the fresh corpse. As silently and quickly as possible she leaning forward and plucked the discarded rifle from the blood soaked ground.

She finally had it, she had obtained her confidence and with a sharp back-pedal and sidestep into the cavity the woman prepared for her counter attack. Tahlia pulled the gun up to her eye, sighting as best as she could in the dark. She pulled the trigger, giving a light spray that would guarantee a hit of some kind.

_{*CHUNK, CHUNK, CHUNK!*}

The end of the barrel exploded in power up as the recoil of each shot pounded back into her shoulder. She couldn't exactly see it clearly but the sound of shattering flesh and bone was heard as clear as day; a sharp thump of a second body collapsing on the floor.

"Fucking eat shit ya feral bastards!" she screamed out, both as a generous distraction for the others and a taunt for the invaders to take her on. She saw the glowing eyes of her targets swing back around and glare in her general direction, an indication that now was the perhaps the time to pull out of their line of sight. With a stern kick off the ground she pushed up against the wall, avoiding their night-vision assisted shots.

Fucken bullshit this is, she cursed silently after seeing their augmented eyes. She never had the need to get such a cybernetic in her life and at this point in time she really wish that she had taken the time to get the surgery when she back in the land down under.

[DruSM157]

ALAN FOUREN

Corridors, New Anchorage
[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]
_{M O O D M U S I C}

Alan’s eyes locked with glowing red eyes as he leapt from cover. He accepted this: he would most likely die. But he could give Jingo and Josh a chance to fight back or escape. It would be his last act as a leader. A good sacrifice for his squadmates. “AAR-”

_{*CHUNK, CHUNK, CHUNK!*}

The sudden flash of light from behind the two soldiers aiming at him came as a godsend; and there on her wings of fury was one Tahlia Styles: a valkyrie of vengeance that came from the heavens to deliver the three men (and robot dog) to safety. For that moment, Alan fell madly in love with her for that split second; a mix of emotions from relief that someone was there saving their collective asses, and the fact that she looked amazing holding a laser rifle killing the men that wanted to kill them.

The first man she gunned down hit the floor hard; if he wasn’t dead he was hurt, but the second soldier seemed willing to return fire at the woman. It was enough to move his gaze towards Tahlia instead of Alan, and that split second was the chance the man had to take; he leapt over several downed bodies, bringing his metal pipe up and against the jaw of the second soldier, bringing the man down onto the ground. Alan didn’t stop there, however.

”DIE. YOU. FUCKING. BASTARD.” He brought the metal pole down on the man’s hand with every punctuated curse. Blood began to erupt from his targets skull, and soon Alan was stained with the splatter, covering his undershirt and pants.

Alan continued to pound until the sound of metal filled the corridor, with the rest of the pilots quiet at his sudden violent actions. In that moment, he wasn’t in the corridor; he was in a raider camp. He was getting revenge. For that moment the only way he could assert that he was alive was to take the life of someone else. The soldier sufficed for now.

“I think they’re dead. Huh.”

Josh’s words snapped Alan back to reality. “F-fuck…” he muttered, before falling to his knees. He felt light headed. “We’re alive.”

Jingo watched Alan as he beat in the assailant’s skull, his lips pursed thinly in reaction to the gorey sight. The man knelt down to pick up a plasma carbine that laid on the floor. He wracked the lever open slightly to check the condition of the energy cell. Looking satisfied with the weapon, Jingo appeared ready to carry on.

“Thanks to the Australian Sensation, yeah.” Josh’s comment seemed like an attempt to lighten the mood after Alan’s…display.

"Keep trying those flirt tactics and I’ll send you out to the front lines," Tahlia rose from out of the alcove, checking the rifle in her hand to see how much ammunition was left; not much apparently. She strided toward the group, keeping her ears open in order to ensure that they were in the clear. Her first point of interest was their Datatools on their wrists as it was an easy way to find out who they were and what their main objective was. She tapped the unit and waited for the display to appear.

As Tahlia went about her business Alan crouched down at his recent kill, rifling through the corpse’s pockets, checking if his armor still had enough integrity to be used, and of course; he armed himself. This wasn’t the first time he’d looted a corpse, and he doubted it would be the last. His greatest belief was of survival at all costs. A corpse wouldn’t miss their belongings, after all. And he’d looted enough corpses without a karmic backlash to keep him from this task. He wrested a clean datatool from the body, and peeled off the outer cover of the synth weave armor. He set the armor aside for now; it wouldn't make them tanks but it would keep them alive in the off chance a stray blast hit them in the torso. He was surgical in his work; producing a credit chit, a spare power cell, nothing that gave credence to who this man was before. Alan preferred that. It allowed him to rationalize his brutality as some aspect of protection, both for himself and for his comrades. It didn’t stop the pounding in his ears, however. When he was finished with his body, Alan stood up and shined his light over to the other corpses, walking to a fresh one and began his process again. Seeing the fresh body under the light, Alan let out a single word: ”Motherfucker.”

He was dressed as a New Anchorage guard— they all were.

"God damn it!" Tahlia cried out in disapointed frustration. She had cycled through the contained details and noticed that much of the key information was simply gone. Mission logs, radio frequencies, even the individual’s personal details. "It looks like the device has gone through a complete wipe."

Joshua sighed as he holstered his handgun before kneeling down to pick up one of the assault rifles lying on the floor, “Well at least they weren’t rigged up outside of a memory wipe protocol. We could be all human paintings right now.”

“Le’s go.” Jingo uttered.

Alan nodded, pocketing items he could carry for now. An extra Datatool and another power cell.”Shouldn't be a difficult walk to the armory now.” He checked the rifle in his arms, happy to have something of use— at least with more range than a pipe. “I hope the others didn’t run into these guys.”

“Well, not these guys.” Joshua kicked one of the bodies to check them for signs of life. “They’re kind of dead.”

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

”Holy shit, they’re dead.”Elicott’s reaction to the aftermath of their first battle resonated in Alan’s head. He still could not get used to the comm channel. ”Do you think we could have solved this...peacefully?” Elicott and Alan had deployed together, but this had been Elicott's first real battle. The first few times fighting bleeder worms in the Alabama wastes, Elicott had remained at their flank, protecting the cargo transport. This time he'd been up close to the action. He'd seen death. And now the boy was looking at shredded metal, charred earth and the remains of a corpse that had failed in an attempt to eject his NC.

”With raiders? No.” Dicer’s voice took command over the group at least. The older boy always seemed to exude confidence and wisdom; even if he was only 19 years old. Dicer was a true commander, a man who should have been born in the megacity. There he really could have made a name for himself as a great pilot or commander. Instead, he was born into one of the poorest families at The Mound. His mother was a maid at a brothel, and his father had died of sickness years ago. For Dicer, it was fight for the towns or die destitute. He chose to fight. He was the kind of guy that anyone would be glad to follow into the mouth of hell, without a second thought. He got them into more trouble than it was worth, but it always worked itself out in the end. Hell, Dicer’s stupid ideas had gotten them some of the town’s most lucrative contracts. The four of them together? They could beat anything. Mutant beasts, raiders, storms. They were going to be great.

”I gotta say though, Al. You went hog wild on them, didn’t ya? Tore the bastards to shred in that Wolf of yours. Hell, we need a new name for it. The Wild Wolf! Sound good Al?”

Al?

‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖

"Al!" Alan felt Josh push against his shoulder. ”Come on man, let’s get to the armory before more of these guys show up.”

”Right. Let’s move.”Alan felt lost in that moment. Lost in his own memories, and lost in the darkness of the corridors. In that very moment, as they began to move deeper into the darkness, Alan felt a pang of loneliness and pain that he’d buried years ago. He felt homesick.

[Mcmolly]

V E R A

Corridors, New Anchorage
[[ Around 0200 Hours]]

Vera wasn’t sure if they’d been running for seconds or minutes. Fear had a strange way of stringing out time, dragging out the slightest of instants, passing days like blinks, Vera had felt it leading up to her surgery, and she felt it much more potently now. Their footsteps were like alarms, and she worried each one might catch the attention of someone looking to make it their last, but she dared not to voice it. Madison for the time being had lived this side of the facility, surely she knew what she was doing, where she was going. Perhaps they’d barricade themselves in the wards, but then what about the others? Maybe there was an armory of sorts this way, though she’d never heard of it, and she wasn’t likely to prove well with a weapon anyway.

Her confidence waned in what she felt couldn’t have been more than a minute, and she found herself tugging against Madison’s grip before she even had words ready. At this point she figured it might just be best to wing it.

”Madi--Madi! Wait we— where’re we going?”

”I don’t know!!! Everyone just started screaming, they were all running, there were shots being fired, and now they’re all dead!” Madison’s frantic speech was just pure fear. She just wanted to run away, she didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, she didn’t want to feel any more pain, she didn’t want to die.

Vera realized quickly that her faith in Madison, while certainly optimistic, might have been momentarily misplaced. Could she blame her? She was right. People were screaming, people were running, and as much as she wanted to put it out of her mind, people were dying.

It took some effort, and even more to make the assertive action gentle, but she managed to pull Madison to a halt, if only for a moment. There were no bullets flying by their heads right then, no screams for them to put their hands up, or otherwise worse, it wasn’t a peaceful moment, but it was still, still enough to think. She tried to pull a mental map from her memory, but got nowhere, she hadn’t spent enough time wandering in the dark, even if she’d made an early habit of exploring.

Madison dropped to the ground and curled herself up, wrapping her hands around her knees and leaning against the cold wall. She didn’t want to deal with this anymore, she didn’t want to keep running for her life. Slowly, the tears started to well up under her eyes as reality began to hit her hard.

“Alright we just gotta...just think what’s down that way? You came from the hospital place, so…” It came slowly, but nonetheless, staring down the dark corridor, eyes well-adjusted enough to make out patterns in doorways she’d meandered down plenty of times before, especially in recent weeks, Vera understood where they were.

“Lofgren!” She only just managed to hold her voice to only a whisper. “Okay, I know where we are! A little!”

Looking down, Vera saw that Madison had collapsed, and her heart skipped a beat. Was she hit? Dead? No, if only as a faint, murky blur she could see the other girl’s form shuddering with breath, and soon after could hear the faint beginnings of a crying spell. Casting another glance behind them, she got low once again and settled her hands atop Madison’s knees, craning her neck for an angle that let her meet eyes. Vera had no illusions about understanding how to handle every type of panic attack, every bout of anxiety or stress induced shutdown, but for the moment it didn’t matter, she didn’t need to, she couldn’t. Right now they needed to keep going, it was her fault they’d stopped in the first place, but now they needed to go.

It took a moment for her to work the tremor out of her voice, another to make sure it stayed down, but at length she managed to turn her hushed, hurried whisper into a familiar, gentle murmur.

“Madi? Hey, it’s okay—”

Madison gave a short nod and reluctantly agreed with her.

“— we’re okay. We’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Vera gave Madison’s knees a firm grip, more to prove she was there than anything, that there was someone else present. “I know right now you really don’t wanna keep going, it’s okay, I’m scared too, but we’re almost safe, okay? Right down there, we’re gonna go down there and find someone, and we’ll be safe, I promise. Can you do that?”

Though she asked, Vera knew that it rarely enough to leave it up to the other person. She got to her feet, moving to take Madison’s hands with hers, and gently pulled up. “Just down there, c’mon, you can do that I know you can.”

Madison could feel herself gradually being pulled out of her small slump. It wasn’t nearly enough to make the day better but the comfort of knowing that someone was there made all the difference.

”Just down there?” she motioned towards the end of the hallway.

Vera felt a wave of relief, the first step was the toughest. She smiled, nodding and pointing with her. ”Not even— not even. See, almost right there.”

They were up. Good. Running would have been the best, but she’d take it. Vera heard another distant round of gunfire and knew if they took too long her promises wouldn’t hold too much. At least their walk was quickly-paced, and she had no trouble keeping Madison’s remaining hand clutched tight, or at least tight as a girl her size could.

She watched the doors as they passed by and was glad to see that she’d been right. This was Lofgren’s hall, and they came up to her office before long, but that was only half the battle. Vera hesitated for another agonizingly long moment, debating whether or not to knock. If Lofgren wasn’t there, no harm, but the potential for the room to be occupied otherwise was far from small. The door could open to rifle fire and the next wave of screams could be theirs.

In the back of her mind she could hear her own panic bubbling up.

’You can’t keep stopping, you’ll be running on luck.’

Once again, the very real, very nearby terrors jolted her from thought and forced her to act, only she wasn’t given the time. The door opened, and while it wasn’t to a group of angry soldiers, they were met with faint lights and the barrels of guns. Vera gasped and pushed herself close to Madison. If she’d had the thought to scream, she might have done just that.

The weak light moved away from her eyes, towards the ground, allowing her to see the faces of Dr. Lofgren and Orry. The boy’s silhouette had jumped in time with Vera’s, but his expression now was one of immense relief, a smile on his face; he almost looked like he wanted to hug the two girls.

”Are you two okay?” He asked quietly, taking a shaky step into the doorway as he quickly glanced down the hall.

“Orry, Lof!” Vera would have hugged them as well if she didn’t have Madison’s hand held within her own. She instead settled for a relieved grin, and an exhale that made her feel pounds lighter. “We’re okay yeah, we came from, uh, down there, the place where Madi was.”

Vera looked to the other girl, a brief sadness flashing through her. “I think everyone else that way is… but we don’t know. We just ran. Is it safe in there? Madi needs to sit down.”

“It won’t be safe for much longer; our intruders will be upon us soon enough, and I’m not going to be an easy target if I can help it.”

It’d been a long-shot anyway, but Vera was let down all the same, partly for herself and partly for Madison. She eased her grip, patted her hand, then looked back to Orry and Lofgren. “We gotta find somewhere to go then, hide somewhere, right?”

“Correct. There’s a service tunnel a few meters northward, near the base of the medical wards. We get the doors opened manually or we get cornered like rats before they kill us. We will need to be quick and decisive.”

Orry bit the corner of his lip, his concerned, darting gaze—which had settled on the frayed-looking Madison for a moment—moved back to the depths of the hallway, towards the nearest sounds of violence. He seemed reluctant to be moving anywhere, but he nodded quickly following Lofgren’s words.

”Let’s go then, please.” He said tightly, as though trying hard not to let his voice crack. He stepped out into the hall, moving to bring up the rear of the small group and let Lofgren lead.

Vera nodded along with him. Lofgren’s stark words were as jarring as they were painfully true, they needed to be moving sooner than later. She turned to Madi, again to meet eyes with her, and again smiled softly.

“We can’t stop quite yet, we’re gonna follow them, alright?” Gently pulling along a lead, Vera meant to coax her through once more. She’d promised safety, and even if it was delayed, at least now their chances of actually finding it were much better now. Orry seemed to be steeling himself, and Lofgren didn’t show any cracks at all - as good a pair as any to find, given their circumstances. Madison did not look as if she was having the best of days by any stretch of the imagination.

[Lonewolf685]

A G A T H A

NC Pilot Barracks, New Anchorage CC

[[ Around 0200 Hours ]]

Despite the horrific odds the were likely stacked against the motley crew of poorly armed pilots, Agatha had a feeling they were going to turn out alright. She sidled up beside the left door, back pressed against cool steel as her finger slipped inside the guard and caressed the trigger of her sidearm. There was comfort in armament, and protection in a hardened wall, but more than anything else the aged lioness found assurance in the skill of her squad mates. Agatha knew that Stein didn’t share her thoughts on the roles of leadership even if she was proving her point with the level headed direction she offered in their time of crisis.

Eli came forward with a succinct declaration of two pilots absent, revealing yet another child was somewhere out there in harm’s way. The savage grin working its way across her face abated and turned into a taut line that was more appropriate to the situation.

”Look Eli, I’m sure that Vera just went to the bathroom or maybe saw a doctor for post surgery discomfort. Tahlia, well, a woman who smells like a smoke box is probably doing as she does.”

The look Agatha received in return said enough, it was clear Eli wasn’t about to leave it at assumptions. The frigid girl looked on, as though trying to glare through the wall and see the restrooms, the offices, the halls in all. A brief scowl flickered over her face, sour but sure, something was clawing at her, something nigh unnegotiable.

It was brief moments like this that Agatha had to wonder why there were so many mothers among the pilots, Eli being as good a birth mother to Vera as Agatha was to her own kids. Agatha would have been liable to skin her husband alive if he took the girls out for ice cream without telling her beforehand, so empathy abounded for the tensed knife aficionado.

”And by all that is decent in this world, give us a call out before you close in with that knife. If I wind up shooting you in the back outside of VR i’d never be able to look Vera in the eye again.” Agatha spat out, recalling their first squad VR simulation together. It was remarkably similar to their current scenario, barring that there were now very real consequences for their actions and if Eli were to come down with a sudden case of tunnel vision then she’s liable to step into heat from the wrong direction. I swear those two were glaring at me for days after that. Kind of adorable if they weren’t doing it to me.

Again Eli gave her a look, less narrowed but hinting at incredulity, like she was almost offended at the idea. ”I won’t stab you unless you give me a reason to.”

Agatha smothered a chuckle, assuming this was Eli’s attempt at humor. She watched Alan’s group leave out the right without being perforated in the process and reckoned they’d be good on their end. As Stein hit the manual release and pulled the door open she had her Tenormin leveled on the left side, ready for anything. “Clear.”

“Keep your eyes open — it’s dark, but we aren’t blind.”

The eldest pilot stepped into the hall, swiftly crossing to press herself against the wall and creep down to the corner, sidearm ready for anyone that may approach as she peeked around. ”Clear.”

With no enemies in her sights she motioned for Eli and Stein to move forward while she covered their rear. As mobile as she may have been in the Charon, on foot it was better to leave pointman duty to the young woman who could react far more quickly. That Eli had a knife rather than a handgun, and had abysmal accuracy in comparison to the others present, was why Agatha thought she made the best pointman with Stein nestled safely between them.

Into the darkness they went, steel bared in defiance of the intruders upon their home. They hoped they wouldn't encounter the enemy before they linked up at the armory, but the distant staccato of weapon’s fire told her otherwise.

[Ladypug]

P E R C Y

Corridors, New Anchorage CC
[[ Around 0230 Hours (2:30 AM) ]]

What. The fuck. Was I thinking?

The group hadn’t even stepped out of the hallway and Percy could already feel his heart rate go up exponentially. There was an awfully pressing knowledge that he could very well die right now, or any time within the minutes it would take to get to the elevator shaft. There was a knowledge weighing down on him that he could very well die and leave Ana all alone in this crazy world. There was also a knowledge that if he did die, she might very well end up in his mech. She can sync, so it’s only a matter of time before they shove her in the pilot’s seat due to his fuck-ups.

Percy thought maybe he’d be able to cope better than this, but... obviously not. He glanced back at the two engineers behind him, as well as the two soldiers accompanying them down the corridor. Percy tried to smile to ease the tension he felt in the air, but judging by the looks on their faces, it didn’t do much, if anything. He quickly turned back to the seemingly never-ending void in front of him, squinting to try to look for movement before he flicked the datatool’s screen on, wincing as the light momentarily blinded him. Of course it was jacked up to max, because why would it be at a reasonable setting?

With another short glance to the four behind him, who were beginning to look impatient - maybe even doubtful - he swiftly opened the marked blueprints. It really was not that far, but, with a second look forward, it felt like the hallway before them was an infinitely expanding darkness that could; and would; trap the five of them inside. He took a moment to breathe, then he turned the brightness down as low as he could before silently gesturing for the group to follow.

Percy walked slow and kept his body lowered as he led to what he prayed wouldn’t be their combined death. It was a straight shot as long as they didn’t have to do any maneuvering around any enemy soldiers.

Another scream echoed through the corridors as the sound of gunfire became the “soundtrack” to the morning and the tension eased back into each person’s relative concern that their last footsteps around the next corner could be their last. There were only five of them clustered together as they made their way towards the lifts, armed with some degree of firearm; the soldiers held assault rifles, though their clips had seen some depletion, and Percy as well as the two other engineers had handguns at the ready. With every single step the pilot took, he became more and more aware of just how insane he must be to not have left. He had every ability to do so, and he hadn’t. He couldn’t really leave now, of course; partially because he had no idea if there were people waiting outside, and partially because he had a self-given mission that he couldn’t leave unfinished.

Despite the fact Percy had felt like he had no real attachments or friendly relations with anyone; however, in actuality, he would clearly know that he did. Eli, Jingo, Vera, Orry.. Hell, even Stein and Agatha, in a very minor, purely “they’re my squad-mates” way. He couldn’t live with knowing he ditched them and, in this case, literally left them in the dark. It was something that took him back, and while it was a bit silly to think like he did - given the situation he lived in every day now - he felt that once you turned the light on, all of the scary “monsters” would become secondhand news.

However, he realized it wouldn’t be so simple to do so when the sound of gunfire echoed closer to the group. A sound that couldn’t have been more than a corridor away from them. Another scream followed it before it was silenced— just thinking about it sent shivers down his spine.

Just keep going. Don’t listen to it. Don’t even think about it.

Funny enough, telling himself to not listen or think about it just made him listen harder and think even more about it. He barely kept his thoughts focused and breathing steady as he guided the group through an intersecting hallway. Percy thought to check the map briefly, but realized just as quickly it wouldn’t be a smart idea - someone might be able to see the light, even if it was barely there.

The Chief Engineer put his hand on Percy’s shoulder before he let out a hushed mutter, “Forward a few. Let’s go.”

“Didn’t plan on stopping,” Percy mumbled back with a brief smile as he continued to lead.

It was hard to tell if it took ages or mere seconds before they finally got to their destination, but Percy didn’t care either way. They made it with absolutely zero unwanted interruptions from the enemy. The pilot was tempted to laugh from the relief he felt, but he knew they weren’t done. They had to get down there, now.

“Anyone have a grappling hook?” Percy asked sarcastically, glancing to the four.

“I have my whole toolkit, actually,” Katarina mentioned in reply as she began to tinker with her utility belt; thus giving the thought to wonder if the woman slept with her base equipment? Well, at least that was one useful thing about their precarious situation as the closed doors of the lifts looked as foreboding in the near-darkness of the corridors. They needed to get the manual release open and pry the steel doors apart before they could worry about descending several floors down. Based on the little he knew, Percy understood that the manual release wouldn’t be too different than the others in every room in the base.

It didn’t take long at all for him to get the grating off, it took even less time to do the simple pull and twist, and it didn’t take but a moment to actually get the doors open. He curiously glanced down the shaft only to regret it - that is a long, long, long way down. Or maybe it only looks that way because it’s so dark. For all he knew, it was one level down, or a hundred levels down. Both would cause agonizing pain, if not immediate death.

“In all seriousness,” Percy turned to look at Kat, “do you have anything that could help us get down there without, y’know, dying?

“There’s a grapple line I can clip that we can use as a makeshift rope, actually.”

Percy opened his prosthetic hand for Kat to give it to him.

Kat smirked as she retrieved a device from her belt and placed it at the base of the doorway leading into the elevator shaft rather than ‘hand’ it over to Percy, a wry smile on her lips as she did such before pressing a button that dropped a synthetic mesh rope of sorts. “We’re only going down to the bottom, since power is the absolute last floor.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Percy said as he crouched down to give the rope a firm tug, just to make sure it wouldn’t come off.

“Anyway, don’t let go; would be kind of a bad fall if you did. This device can hold up to one half ton of weight, so we’re probably good. Hold on tight.”

Percy allowed himself a moment to breathe before he made his way down.