'Two unknowns approaching the checkpoint'
'Standing by for confirmation'
'Alpha identified, Wisechild, Beatrix. Bravo iden...
'What is it?'
'Oh my god'
'Lean, respond'
'Bravo is male, I repeat Bravo is male. Unidentified male, early 20's, short black hair. Respond.
'WHAT? Are you sure? Beatrix would neve-'
'Heatscans confirm, Bravo is male, I repeat Bravo is male. Requesting permission to open fire'
'Open fire?! Are you crazy, it's Beatrix, surely she has a good reason! Let the gate guards handle it!'
'Negative, negative! Target is male and presumed hostile, you know our orders. Requesting clearance to engage, requesting clearance to engage.'
'Do not engage, repeat do not engage there are friendlies down there!'
'He's reaching for his waist line! I'm not loosing another friend, not like last time, I'm engaging!
'Wait!'
As Lyn's voice shrieked over the watchtower guard's headsets, the over-zealous guard flinched, sending a round careening over Miro's head. Noise erupted from the ground team as they split up; Some members dropping to form a perimeter, some grabbing Beatrix and gently lowering her to the ground for cover, and some not-so gently slamming Miro to the pavement, his face ground against the gravel surface. In the confusion, The Thinker came barreling from the checkpoint entrance out to the guards, still trying to locate where the round had been fire from.
'Stand down stand down! Lift him up.'
The guards raised Miro to his feet in a not so gentle fashion. His hands sporting the latest in POW fashion; A pair of ziptie restrains. Beatrix was helped up in the proper way, the guards apologizing and dusting off her attire.
'You two. Briefing room. Now.'
After a trip through a series of make-shift hallways and small security checkpoints withing the base, the trio found themselves inside an old forward-command tent from wars long ago. The large rip-stop flap thumped closed behind them as Miro was 'coerced' into a chair across the desk from The Thinker.
'Remove his restrains.'
'Madam, I'm not so sure that is the best idea.'
'Remove them. Please.'
'Of course.'
The guard retrieved a pair of wire cutters from her utility belt, removing the bindings from Miro, making sure to jerk a bit while doing so, grinding the plastic into his wrists to show she wasn't playing around.
'Well, I did you a favor and stopped my guards from turning your brain into a pâté. If you can't tell, many of my girls aren't fond of males. Now care to return my favor and tell me what you are doing at my base?'