Postapocalyptia S1E6: Saving Corporal Dupont

[Ayreonia]

PREVIOUSLY ON OOC Episode One - Tits Hills | Episode Two - The World's End | Episode Three - The Deep Sands | Episode Four - Pseudosunrise | Episode Five - The Counts of Montecristo Episode Six - Saving Corporal Dupont (Music) The Free City of Montecristo! The place where men are men, women are women, and people outside the binary can be whatever the hell they are. The city where Rigel-3's harsh reality lives side by side with remnants of High Earthen culture and arts, as well as a vegasesque mixture of different vices. The single settlement that's more diverse than many planets, save for Mother Earth herself. That's where our heroes sans Hiram headed; not to admire and appreciate, but to sell shit and get paid. Duh. Sightseeing? Ain't nobody got time for dat. Lots of sex and booze. Hiram gets momentarily forgotten. Some of the gang infiltrate the AA headquarters, which would have been an impressive feat, were it not a public building. Meanwhile, the other half go down to the Gutter, get lost (thanks, Russ) and reunite with Zee, who agrees to rejoin them after an accidental battle. They also meet an enigmatic merc called Archie, who joins them, presumably because he has fuck all else to do. During all this, Hiram rots away in his cell, anxiously waiting to again play a role in the RP expedition. It's his expedition, goddamnit. Postapocalyptia OST - Rigel Three Overture (*cultured British voice*) Rigel Three. Such a boring, generic and nonromantic name for a planet. When the first human colonists arrived, the United Nations Space Exploration Committee (UNSEC) was quick to christen it as such: it orbited the star Rigel and was the third planet. No more naming planets after ancient gods or figures of mythology: the human world was secular and politically correct now. A loaded name such as "Jesus" or "Allah" would simply not do. Of course, human nature is not so easily overridden by rules and protocols: upon seeing the desert landscape with ruins of an ancient and long-gone alien civilization jutting out, the colonists let their imagination run wild. The human mind pictured a once great culture, wiped out by... what? What indeed. Nobody knew, but the melancholy vista spoke volumes. This people had been destroyed by some cataclysmic event, an apocalypse of sort. And so, the colonists came up with a name, one that stuck and spread to new arrivals and the press. They named it Postapocalyptia. Arid and barren and consisting mostly of sand and rocks to the untrained eye, Postapocalyptia, or Postpoc, didn't really attract many settlers at first. Sure, there were the alien ruins, but those were hardly the first ones humanity had encountered, and who would really care about the skeletal remains of once great structures reaching into the sky? The answer is, obviously, archaeologists. So Postapocalytian society evolved into a collection of small townships where these explorers would find places to stay, along with fueling points and outposts where they could rest and recuperate during their journeys into the desert. That is, before they discovered timonium. Named after its finder, timonium was a wondrous substance. Sprinkle it onto the sand, and crops would grow even in the driest desert. Fill your vehicle with it, and it would behave like a more efficient version of Betelgeuzean biofuel. Drink it, and you die a horrible and painful death (yes, someone tried). Most importantly, burning it would generate exorbitant amounts of energy, at the cost of heavy pollution. And it was freaking everywhere. It looked like wherever you drilled, you could find some of the stuff. In fact, its many uses and spread across the entire planet made scientists speculate that timonium wasn't, in fact, a natural element, but a substance engineered by the now-extinct aliens of Postapocalyptia. And oh boy, did it start a 25th century version of the Gold Rush. Several energy and agricultural companies immediately took notice and landed their people on Rigel-3, only to be massively disappointed. It turned out that the reports the settlers had sent back home had been greatly exaggerated. While timonium was extremely useful in an underdeveloped place like Postapocalyptia, there were practically zero uses for it anywhere else. Those days, most crops were grown in massive hydroponic complexes, there were much cleaner ways of generating similar amounts of power, and alcohol was still the substance of choice for people who wanted to drink themselves to death. Feeling cheated, the corporations gathered what little initial staff and equipment they had brought and left the planet. Or would have, save for the fact that they couldn't. You see, unbeknownst to most of its denizens, Postapocalyptia had also become a test site for a new orbital power plant. Situated at the Lagrange point between Rigel-3 and its moon, this plant would collect a mixture of solar rays, cosmic radiation and gravitic energy, then convert it into electricity by some combination of science and witchcraft (presumably). Since it was all very new and experimental, nobody really understood the math behind it, so of course it was a matter of time before something got royally fucked up. Namely, the plant blew up, creating a massive gravitational flux in the system that prevented any spaceship from entering or leaving the system, lest they be crushed like tin cans on the ocean floor. Somehow, the planet itself wasn't affected, probably because of its own big-ass gravity well, but the settlers were pretty much stranded. And so, cut off and most likely forgotten by the rest of the world, the people of Postapocalyptia lived on. Law was in the hands of groups who had the most firepower, which initially meant the small armed security forces Gazprom and other corporations had brought with them. Gradually, these turned into something resembling a police force, but only in the larger settlements. In most parts of Postpoc, law was getting rewritten every day in the wake of the last gunfight as Vagabond bands fought hostile wildlife, bandits and each other in search of alien artifacts and riches. Ah, yes, the Vagabonds. Such a curious occupation could have never arisen anywhere else. Part explorer, part archaeologist and part gunslinger, these reckless wanderers braved Rigel-three's deserts in search of... what? Varying greatly in temperament and motivation, often the only thing that separated these men and women from regular homeless people was that they had (or at least pretended to have) some sort of scientific interest in the alien ruins dotting the landscape. They were wild, unpredictable and often feared by "decent" folk, with tales of their exploits told at campfires and dingy bars all across the planet. Of course every Postapocalyptian child wanted to become one when they grew up. Ah, yes, the Vagabonds. Such a curious occupation could have never arisen anywhere else. Part explorer, part archaeologist and part gunslinger, these reckless wanderers braved Rigel-three's deserts in search of... what? Varying greatly in temperament and motivation, often the only thing that separated these men and women from regular homeless people was that they had (or at least pretended to have) some sort of scientific interest in the alien ruins dotting the landscape. They were wild, unpredictable and often feared by "decent" folk, with tales of their exploits told at campfires and dingy bars all across the planet. Of course every Postapocalyptian child wanted to become one when they grew up. People kept their distance out of the respect-- "So some Vagos came in last night." "Oh? How was it?" "Well, they fucked and drank and probably did drugs and spent a whole lot of money here." "Vagos got money? Since when?" "Hell if I know, either they got lucky or stole it. Might be both." "Most likely both." Well, maybe not out of respect. Music changes! A PORTAL TO THE MULTIVERSE PRODUCTION AN AYREONIA ROLEPLAY (Short clips of the characters doing their stuff, ending in a freeze frame with text) Ayreonia as Hiram Dupont, the Driver, and unwilling team member Hew Parish Cylarn as Russell Gellar, the Ex-Soldier, and his son Jack Mincaldenteans as Severine Fields, the Rogue Jessjohnesik as Anna Brand, the Hot Doctor, and her BFF Dahl Pan Asian Amercian Coalition as Elsha Johanshen, the Prodigy Transoxthraxia as Furia Madog, the Psycho The Carlisle as Takahashi Eira, the Plural Feroxi as Aeron Marec, the Philosopher Ameriganastan as Archie Crane, the Sniper ...and Lucy as herself! XENOBIOLOGY CONSULT: Jesshohnesik and Transoxthraxia (Jess and Sox argue over a drawing of a horse, then grab each other's collars) ARMAMENTS CONSULT: Ayreonia (Ayre tries to fit a rifle cartridge into a revolver while a loading bench collapses in the background) ART DIRECTOR: Pan Asian Amercian Coalition (PAAC sweats over a drawing board, sighs, tosses the drawing into an overflowing paper bin, draws a dick) CONSULT OF NAMING STUFF & PRETTY THINGS: Mincaldenteans (Min runs around a neighborhood in a hood and balaclava, vandalising street signs and billboards) SOUNDTRACK: Various artists (CCTV footage of someone walking into a record store, then escaping while clutching a bunch of albums) PRODUCED BY Portal to the Multiverse and NationStates WRITTEN BY Ayreonia (shot to Lucy and the gang speeding through the desert, with some of the people sitting on the turret, passing a bottle between them, camera pans as the tank rides into the sunset. Just as the screen is about to go black, a burst of gunfire can be heard, followed by manic laughter) Boooorn to bee wiii-ii-iild

[Ayreonia]

The Retreat Hotel bore a proud name. A bit too proud, to be honest; it was little more than a pile of interconnected shacks, some of them built directly on top of others in a cocky display of disregard for structural safety and/or common sense. In the best case, these were connected by rickety elevators, and in the worst, ladders made of driftwood. The lakeside aroma of rotting fish permeated the building; the walls were damp and overgrown by weeds, and the whole hovel was strikingly reminiscent of a sailors' drinking establishment from a historical fiction novel set in 18th century Tortuga.

Not that any of the gentlemanly cavalcade present would know what a Tortuga was. Or "historical fiction," for that matter.

Hiram's crew, short a few members who had left the group under various circumstances including, but not limited to, death, but bolstered by a few new recruits, had taken residence in a shady corner of the hotel's bar, as was their custom. Among them sat a number of new faces, all accomplices of Russ Gellar: the brothers Alvarez, the UNSEC veteran's frenemies, Dr Chauncey, a chemist turned drug maker, and Branwyn Adams, Russell's ex.

In addition of gathering the contacts, Russ had become the crew's unofficial leader in Hiram's absence. If anyone had misgivings about this fact, they didn't voice them. Not even old Hew Parish, who didn't have too fond feelings about the guy who had shot his friend and hit him on the head with a glass bottle. At least he had the courtesy to drink it empty before smashing it on my scalp, the now former Prospector thought dryly, again surprising himself with the amount of sarcasm he was able to squeeze into a thought. Looked like two days of being an involuntary member of these Vagabond jackasses had already changed him, and not for the better.

As usual, our heroes had a plan, and even more usual, it was batshit. Hiram had no idea they had in mind, or indeed if they were coming for him, but if he did, he'd be very, very proud.

[Cylarn]

The situation had just become even more complicated. Breaking into the AA HQ was difficult but not impossible, however it seemed that Hiram wasn't even being held in the official AA HQ, judging by the intel that Sev had gathered. Sitting at the table and staring at the bottle of beer in front of him, Russ was a bit perturbed at this setback. Yeah, they were close to Hiram's position, but they didn't even know where this place was, and they had no idea what they'd be walking in to. For all they knew, this place could have extremely lax security, or a damned decontamination protocol system in each room that would fry them all to pieces. This was less than less-than-ideal; this was abysmal. And it was Russ who everyone was looking to as the person who would lead them to success. Their lives were on his hands, and if he didn't plan this op right, they could all very well be dead.

Then, it came to him. Sev had stated that AA had been transporting supplies to the place, which was right there in the Gutter. If they could somehow intercept one of these supply units and perhaps impart a tracking device or even a hidden camera to broadcast a feed to them in real-time, they could get a sense of what exactly they were supposed to break in to. After all, the team that entered the AA HQ did have some success at infiltrating the organization; at least one member had been hired by AA, they already had an AA employee with them, and his boy and Eira had managed to abduct some security keycards. They had some hope, but the rescue would take more time now to put together. They also had the ability to gather HUMINT; Bran's connections to the working-class revolutionary Cyrus could enable the group to utilize a small but effective network of eyes and ears to carry out tasks ranging from listening in on conversations to mapping out a suitable path to the Outer Lab.

"Alright," Russ said, breaking the silence. "It seems that Hiram is bein' held somewhere here in the Gutter. That makes shit harder, but we do have the ability to improvise. It seems that we have people who are now 'inside,' as well as Senhor Parish. Supplies are travelin' down to the OL, and our people are in a possible position to place some sort of trackin' device or even a camera on the supply run, which will allow us to pinpoint the path that the supply caravans are takin'. The camera would also help us to gather intel on what exactly the interior of this place looks like. Bran, would Cyrus be in a position to assist us?"

"He hates you, Russ," the Irish woman said. "But, he hates AA more. I'll talk to him and see what assistance he can give. What were you thinkin' about him doin'?"

"He could very well get us some eyes and ears to gather HUMINT and plan out alternate routes," Russ said. "Chances are that the AA have secured their own route to the OL, and we would compromise our operation and Hiram's safety if we utilized it. Once we have an outline of that path, we could possibly utilize his assets that know the Gutter to secure an alternate route. We'll also need some ears to eavesdrop on conversations in this area. Who knows what might slip out?"

"Any questions up to this point in our discussion?"

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

"Any questions up to this point in our discussion?"

A small hand reached up from the corner of the table

"Yeah, one; what's a HUMINT?" Elsha asked as she resumed nursing her third mug of coffee. She didn't want to get in Russ' way, considering her experience with these sort of situations ends with a out or game over at worst.

Despite her deficiency with operational planning, she understood that this was going to be one of the most dangerous things she had ever done. AA had spared no expense for security on even the most minor equipment in their office, never mind what they would commit to holding a valuable prisoner. And if the intel Sev had gathered is any indication, AA is maintaining what seemed like a small army. Before they could worry about that, they had to figure how the building is laid out and how to get there.

And although she didn't show it, Elsha was terrified. Not even her 'stunt' out in Six Steeds was this likely to get her killed. She wondered how many others felt the same way.As she saw it, most of them were probably pretty used to pulling these sorts of thing in one way or another.

[Cylarn]

"Human intelligence," Russ said, realizing his error. "It's what you collect when you're askin' 'round 'bout stuff and things. Like, listenin' to people here talk about somethin' we're lookin' for, and then gatherin' what intel we need from those conversations. It's easy; hell, we've probably all gathered HUMINT without not even knowin' the damn acronym."

At that point, Russ proceeded to lift the beer up to his mouth and throw his head back, chugging the hops-based beverage. The carbonation tickled his throat, but he ignored it as he forced more of the alcoholic beverage down his throat.

"I say, why not Trojan Horse-esque tactic to deal with these ruffians?" Dr. Chauncey asked, speaking in his Oxford English accent.

"The fuck is a Trojan Horse, cabrón?" José asked, confused as to what the doctor was talking about.

"Oh yeah, you don't know how to read," Russ said, after finishing his beer and tossing it behind him. "Son?"

"What?" Jack asked.

"Tell him."

"...Tell him what?"

"What a Trojan horse is."

"Don't you know?" Jack asked.

"So? I need another drink," Russ said, before raising his hand above his head. "SERVIN' GIRL! SCOTCH! BLUE!"

"Christ...a Trojan Horse is when you hide inside of a crate or something in order to enter an enemy position," Jack said, demonstrating his knowledge. "Then, you bust out once you're inside and kill everyone. Someone back on Earth did that, I think."

[Mincaldenteans]

"That sounds kinda silly," Severine said lightly and stifled a giggle at the thought of them riding on horses, or inside a horse... whatever. She shrugged after conceding, "but I suppose it could work, right?" She wasn't a tactician by any means. Her expertise was rather straightforward: Point, click, hack a computer. Point, click, shoot a target. Easy enough.

"All of the records indicate that they go in at regular intervals, several times a day in fact," she continued. "Most of the stuff they're transporting are usual supplies, salvage parts, that sorta thing. 'Sensitive' material, like Hiram, have all been labeled 'Restricted Cargo', and it could be any number of them. From what I was able to pull in AA HQ, most of the 'Restricted' get dropped of here, labeled as such in the documents and no fool in AA puts two and two together or even care that they're filing it.

"Anyway, if you can put a tracking or some other device in there, I'll be able to help map the area better for a quick snatch-and-grab. Thing is, do we have enough weapons to get us by? Do we just pop out and say "surprise!" and start shooting our way through? Because if that's the case we'd need an awfully big distraction to keep them off balance, no? If only Lucy could fit her big ass down these bowels... wait... could she? I mean if she could, that's a huge distraction for us while we're in finding Hiram. Oh and what about the damn police? We still need that covered too."

[Jessjohnesik]

"Well Clara can be our tracking device...transmit info to us and, erhm, whatever it is you pretty much need. She can pretend to be a rock or something, highly unlikely she'd be noticed too. And she can map it, send it and whatever from what I know." Dahl proposed rather lazily, thinking over the plan and reviewing the many ways they could all die. It was a risky mission but Hiram had to be saved. She'd imagine she would want to be saved should she be in his position. God knows whether or not the AA could be interrogating him...in certain ways. In any case, there needs to be a solid plan which views all the ways this could go. As this could go many ways.

"Oh and those crates that we'd want to get in have to be pretty big. I mean, the Trojan horse itself was quite large." Anna said, fixing her glasses.

[Ayreonia]

Tap tap tap "damnit." Tap tap "ouch." Tap tap tap tap and so on.

As the badasses discussed their badass things, Parish kept himself entertained by playing five-finger fillet against himself. He was losing. Being a sore loser, he grumbled to himself and had a sip of the gin he had bought. It was his first drink in years, not counting the anesthetical use of whiskey following his scalp's date with Russell's bottle. Lori would be furious if she knew. Eh, I'm screwed, so might as well go all the way, he thought dryly.

Despite his one-man knife fight, he was actually paying attention. It was just that he didn't want to interject as these walking piles of testosterone and machismo grunted at each other. He was impressed that Jack had heard about the Trojan Horse, though.

"Yes, the Greek army did that during the aptly named Trojan War," he mused aloud, almost accidentally. "Funniest thing is, the 'horse' they used was actually a literal horse. A wooden one, of course," he clarified, just to be sure since you never knew with this lot, "not a live one. That would have been silly. Not to mention unsanitary."

Emboldened by his knowledge of trivia, he leaned back and took a swallow of gin. "Even more funny," he went on, "is that for decades, nobody believed the story. With the horse. Or centuries. Of course, as fate would have it, excavations revealed that it was all spot on. Folks had dismissed it as a legend, because apparently people like to think that cultures that precede them are too damn dumb to come up with something smart. Not a realistic thought in this time of history." He all but grumbled the last few words, then drank again, coughing from the alcohol.

His attempt at humor was predictably like feeding Earth beef to Trots: they might like it, but not beyond the om nom nom food yummy stage. At least Sev's giggle had an edge of greater understanding to it. She then went on to break her findings down, and they made Parish frown.

"If I may..." he murmured at an opportune pause. "As a former AA employee, it seems puzzling to me that they would send random salvage down here. I mean, why do that? We... or at this point, I should probably say they, have super facilities topside." He pointed a finger at the ceiling. "All the research and analysis staff works there, there's a large-capacity cargo lift so that findings can be loaded straight off carriers and other vehicles, and this is the Gutter, folks. Any sensible person would stay out of this place.

"No, it's a front. An obvious front, so that even if someone found out about the Association's little operation down here, they wouldn't look further into it. There's nothing illegal about transporting cargo to the Gutter, unless it happens to be, ah, how did you say it was, Severine? Restricted cargo. Like, say, people." He let his slightly-raised-eyebrow gaze sweep the congregation.

"So..." he still went on, a bit surprised people were listening, "I think we have the right place. A bit curious they aren't more careful about it... either they've gotten sloppy or overly confident, or Severine here has done a brilliant job. I dare say it's the latter, judging by how I've seen her work." He dared flash a small smile in Sev's direction.

"But that's just my two centicredits," he closed his monologue. "I won't even try and pretend I could find a way inside."

[The Carlisle]

Eira listened to the group discuss their plan of action over a cup of coffee. Yes, she had a whole set up on her section of the table; stove, kettle and all that. The proprietors looked fussy, but shied away when Eira glared at them. Even down here in this pit the people knew of the Cannibal of the Wastes. Anybody who did no research beyond that even tried doing anything against her lest they fear of getting killed and their bits munched on. While she didn't like the notoriety, she did admit it came with some benefits.

Regardless, she had to speak up. "S-so the plan is to h-hide in s-some boxes and ship ourselve i-into the fac-cility?" she said, "H-how are we gonna g-get into a t-transport? L-Like get on one when it s-stops? A-and even then, w-wouldn't they c-check the cargo before th-they bring it in? I-I mean, they can't be th-that lazy? And if w-we're found before we get in, w-we're fucked. A-And Hiram will be f-fucked too, as they w-would tighten security."

Eira sighed and took a big gulp of her coffee. "F-fuck, I don't know. I-I'm a god d-damn cartographer, n-not an infiltrator. I can't do this s-shit," she said in a frustrated tone, sighed, then said in a lighter tone, "B-but I have too..." She then finished her cup of coffee and poured herself another cup. She looked at her mug, thoughts of Jerad filling her mind. "Jerad, what would you do?" she thought to herself.

[Cylarn]

"The box plan is too risky, if you ask me," Russ said. "We'd be better off locatin' an alternate route into the damn facility, and possibly blowin' a hole in the wall. Sev, you need to try to locate some more intel on this facility, like a location, blueprints, anything we can use. The good part is that we won't have to worry 'bout the 5-0 on this one, 'cause they probably don't even know 'bout this place, but AA could have some sort of reaction plan in case the OL goes dark, like a de-con protocol or a self-destruct mechanism. It's unlikely that they'll send reinforcements, and if they do, we can just blow the damn lift and shaft to shit to prevent reinforcements. I mean, would you think they'd anticipate an attack on their highly-secure base?"

"If we had a drill and proper intel, we could tunnel into their holding area," Jack said. "Set a distraction, tunnel in, grab Hiram, and then get him to safety."

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

"I don't imagine that digging equipment would be exceedingly difficult to buy around here" Elsha said to Jack as she mixed her drink absentmindedly "or a distraction for that matter. If you really need to grab some attention, I could shake up 'about 15 kilos of HMX, depending on the price of ammonia and formaldehyde aroun'd here."

She eased back into the cheap upholstery of the booth and began to think. Not only about where she would get that much base chemicals, that was easy enough. Hearing the confidence in the rest of the vagos helped her get off edge just a little and concentrate more. Even Hew's laughably bad humor had helped in small way.

[Mincaldenteans]

Sev had long since stopped paying attention to the rest of the group. Once Russ had started asking for more intel the dark haired woman had set her craptop on the table and went to work. Drowning out the world was easy when she was in cyber space navigating the information highway much the same way a surfer on a board, or so she heard her brother say once upon a time. The only possible distraction that could tear her from the computer was Jack but there was something to be said about their "professionalism" when they had a job to do. She was proud of that; they could always jump each other later.

Her nimble fingers skittered across the keyboard faster than it had any right to do so, her eyes were fixated on the screen as though looking for a piece, a clue, a hidden point from which to make a reference point. She pursed her lower lip, backtracking for a moment and shook her head as she found a better position from which to bounce the latest information feedback from. IP addresses (such an old thing), to quantum (half working, one might add) signatures, down to actual power relay IDs all in the effort to find the mystery building they were to storm into. Extrapolating these weren't half as difficult as finding the right relays to which they led to. Over a dozen in one area translated to literally thousands of possible directions. Fortunately with a 'general' point of reference thanks to AA's blundering, many of the same signatures that seemingly ran around at random throughout Monte Cristo would come back to this source ping themselves for all to see. Sev was already familiar with the inner doings of AA's systems and getting to tag along for the ride through the area would be easy; she only hoped the tech-bitch at HQ hadn't intuit anything from Sev and Parish while they were there and saw them as nothing more than failed hired help.

A smile at the corner of her lips cracked ever so slightly in victory of what she had found. Signatures hadn't been changed, IP addresses remained the same (a few dozen or so were changed but that was to be expected), even their network IDs, domain servers had changed little; AA it seemed were very much feeling secured in Monte Cristo and nothing short of someone like Sev could pose a threat. She didn't need to excess their mainframe, however, that would set off too many alarms. What she did need was a map and at least AA, for their sake, got that piece of information secured behind enough layers that any one of them would run her for her worth. She wasn't up to that and looked up to catch snippets about drilling through? Drilling? Blasting? Whatever, it needed a building for that to work. Her eyes went back to her craptop and she scanned the pondered possible ways to actually find, or make, a map.

She worried upon her lip like a child on edge of breaking a puzzle. Surely there had to be a way. Power lines were easy to track and hacking it usually exposed the hacker pretty quickly also. Communication devices weren't as easy to crack, or well they were, but the same risk came to if the hacker didn't know what to look for. Exact frequencies was tantamount to looking for a needle in a haystack and AA may be fools, but she wasn't willing to hedge her bets that they were this incompetent. No, radio frequencies were out of the question.

Than it hit her. Radio. Sound. There was a whole freaking ecosystem on Rigel whose many weird alien trots and other animals depended on sound to locate thing. They did it by sound, not only that they did it by heat signatures also. It wouldn't be perfect but if she could access their environmental and life support systems for the most rudimentary functions, she could map out the entire place based on sound and heat signatures alone. Again, perfection wasn't the key here, but it would give them a source of information such as concentrated areas of personnel, cold spots that could be classified as non-essential. Working on that idea, Sev squinted her eyes and her fingers darting through Monte Cristo's power relays but quickly stopped short of accessing the main generators, instead she bounced off it, covering herself as a signal that was meant first for communication - easily done as she masked her signature as one headed for 'Storage 1'. She set that window aside and opened up a program, it was a GIS program, not at all meant for such mapping but coordinates were coordinates and she could extrapolate a few things that would translate into a map itself.

Running the algorithm to match the communication frequency was frustrating, not only incompatible but Sev needed to work quickly before the feed was lost. She hissed with a sharp "shhh!" to everyone at the table but even she didn't take notice if they heeded her command. Not that she cared. It worked, she blinked a few times, reading her programming as though she may have slipped but it worked. She had Storage 1; the room had four speakers, intercoms really and it bounced off each other in sync. Smiling a devilish grin, Sev made a play for the environmental systems, once again masking herself as a temperature control signal that did automatic scans of an area for hot/cold spots. Storage 1 was still her target (and what better way to get the damn stubborn GIS mapping program on the same area also). This time it was easier, carbon and heat signatures were pretty much dominant in GIS features, much like populations density, green belt and other environmental matters that dealt solely, and physically, of the land. This was no different and Sev cursed herself inwardly as she realized that sound was no different to GIS mapping, she just didn't use it the right way. She retooled her programming for Storage 1, set her signature readouts to emit 'pulses' or even basic 'readings' for sound and heat. The GIS system would then automatically map it by tracking anything within a given zone.

Not one to let a good thing go, Sev hastily moved to emit a few more frequencies, changing their locations here and there to make sure she wasn't herself being tracked. It was working smoothly for now and what she had was already constructing a digital map of Storage 1 and all corridors leading out and into several rooms. She maintained a bit of weariness for what she found to be 'isolated' communiques, but where they stopped, the environmental 'pings' took over and vise versa. The GIS program was mapping it out more than some 2-D extrapolation, and Sev had to open a new program to translate it into the digital map that it was going to be as the pings went up and down, left to right, cut off in one area yet continued on in several others. On and on it went and the map was a melange of red, oranges, yellows and hues of blues and purples that denoted heat and cold.

"Boom," she said with a grin and looked up. "I've got us a map," she swerved her laptop around to show the GIS program continual mapping of the building they were to blast to kingdom come. Oh and save Hiram in the process.

[Jessjohnesik]

"Wow Severine you're a genius." Anna praised the woman as she fixed her glasses and squinted her eyes in order to get a better look at the laptop that Sev had just turned around. Anna didn't quite understand computing, so she could only guess how hard it was to do all that stuff. Or not hard, since it was a knowing person doing it. In any case, they now had the map. But a map for what? Anna had clearly missed that part right through her ears and felt a bit embarrassed for it. However, before she could ask, some of Elsha's words made an idea pop up in her mind. It was an obvious one, but an idea nevertheless.

"How about we stick an explosive device on an employee and detonate it. People will be distracted for a long time. Or we could make a chemo biological attack on them. In the same manner. " Anna would say rather enthusiastically, despite pretty much wanting to make a terrorist attack.

[The Carlisle]

Eira watched in awe as the computer started building a map of the dungeon. Seconds later, well, instincts took over. Eira's hands darted into her backpack pulling out parchment, fine charcoal, and various map making tools. When all of it was on the table, she set to work. Her work was delicate and accurate, but also fast. A true cartographer always strives to make the most accurate map as fast as possible so one cann map down the very changes in the wind. That is who Eira was.

"That is b-brilliant. The or-organization hasn't been able to ac-c-curately map the entire c-complex. And not o-only that, but also their c-ccargo. I mean, look-k at that heat s-signature. It's nothing lik-ke I've ever s-seen before. This is a true breakthrough. I have to find the others and s-show this to them," she babbled. She stopped for a second, realizing she spoke her mind out loud. "Shit," she thought to herself. She sighed and went back to her work.

Once she was done, she presented the map to the others. It was a masterfully drawn map of the facility, showing everything mapped out in intricate detail. Each room, the objects in the room, even the people and their walking paths. Everything that could be shown was shown with detail.

"W-What do you think?" she said," I-I'm not just a c-cannibal, in c-case you forgot."

[Cylarn]

Bollin'...

The map was extremely useful; within a short amount of time, they had enough intel to hit the AA facility, and with the gear and personnel they had assembled, it was now much easier. Firstly, they had the dowtrodden of Monte, who could easily divert any possible QRF and any attention from the Gutter by staging a massive riot outside of the main AA HQ. Secondly, while they weren't hitting the lift and compromising the operation, they were creating a second entrance, and once they got the sleep toxins into the easily-accessible ventilation system, Russ would be utilizing his artistic skill with explosives to create a back door. Everything looked to be cash, until Eira tripped a massive red flag with Russ.

A few instances in the UNSEC IPs, he had the misfortune of being assigned to conduct an internal affairs investigation and purge unscrupulous-minded soldiers from the ranks of UNSEC. He was unsure of who Eira was talking about, but all he had were her words. Had she come clean earlier about her affiliation to another group, this tension might not have gone underway. Hell, they could have assisted the group, but she had instead kept their existence hidden and Russ had to take a hard line, in defense of his colleagues and in order to show that he was the leader of the group, at least until they got Hiram back. His brown eyes locked on with those of Eira, and he scooted in closer to her as he shot her a cold glare. He soon drew out his pistol, pointing the barrel of the weapon at the young girl. The eyes of Jack, Bran, Chaunce, and the untrustworthy Mexicans were soon directed at Eira, waiting for her to do something.

"Both hands on the table, palms facin' down," he said in a cold, but calm tone. "It is in your best interest to do as I say, and for each time you disobey me, I will shoot you. Who the fuck are you affiliated with, and why weren't we informed of this sooner? I hope you can understand my situation here, as you have just revealed some unsevered ties to some other loyalty, and that could potentially put the group at harm, as well as betray some ulterior motives for your service in this group. Tell me everythin', or I will fuck you up."

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

"How about we stick an explosive device on an employee and detonate it. People will be distracted for a long time. Or we could make a chemo biological attack on them. In the same manner!"

Elsha gave a slow glance to Anna as the idea was slowly processed by a stunned mind. Chem bomb in a major city? Absolutely brilliant idea, if she were an insurgent and last time she checked she wasn't. Plus, innocent deaths 'an all...

"Uh, Anna," Ellie began in a half amused half worried voice "I can think of a lot of reasons that would be far from a great idea. I mean we already are destroying public property and what not, and the last thing we need is the Monte SWAT being calling in on our collective bum because of a..."

She trailed off as she saw Russ' gun being redirected towards Eira and watched the scene from the corner of her eyes.

[The Carlisle]

Flinch would be an understatement. Eira fell back in her chair, her face paling to white. The whole act took her by surprise. Though startled, Eira quickly complied with Russ. It took her a few seconds to calm down and think. She looked at the table, taking glances up at the gun. Visibly, she was calm and stalwart. But under the face she felt fear. And even deeper, she could feel.... it calling. The beast, the feral wolf, the cannibal. It was calling, yearning to lash out and strike down the poor fool that decided to wrong it. Fuck, did she forget to take her meds? No, she rarely forgot. Are they defective or... is it getting stronger? She shuddered a bit at that, not at the gun pointed at her. The urges were small, but if this took too long, then it would be too strong to handle. This had to end quickly.

"Whatever you are s-speaking of, it applies to me in no way, s-shape or f-form. The group I mentioned I have no c-contact with f-for months as I have no more ties to it and at b-best it could be c-called a very dis-stant accquaintanc-ceship. B-but I know you won't put that gun down unless I tell you the group, sadly. Monte C-Cristo is not a good place to drop it's name, b-but I have no c-choice do it?" she said in a brave tone despite the situation.

"Rinascimento" she said. The mere mention of the name drew eyes. Eira looked around at them, them back to Russ. "Renaissance, for others. I doubt you haven't heard of them, b-but if you don't I'll tell you. It's an as-ssoc-ciation of sc-cientists and enlightened vagabonds. Their primary goal is to adv-vance technology and the quality of life on Rigel p-primarily through the s-study of the artifacts left by the dead c-civilization. And unlike AA, they ac-ctually study the artifacts instead of keeping them in v-vaults or s-selling them off to rich aristocrats. In fact, that's why they formed. And obviously, b-both have a b-beef with each other. Enough so that AA labels them as terrorists along with p-politicians they pay off. If you can c-call liberating artifacts and actually studying them terrorism," she said, scoffing a bit. She sighed, realizing she got a bit ranty. A bead of sweat fell down her head.

"R-Regardless, I was p-part of it for a p-period of time before leaving af-fter a dispute. I have had no c-contact with them ever s-since and I didn't plan to until...well... that," she said, looking at Sev's computer, "The AA facility remained uncharted even when I was in. No one had the technical wit to do s-something like that. My only plan was to s-sell off this map to them after we get Hiram out. They would s-shell out c-cash for a fully mapped out facility," she said. she took a deep breath. It was getting harder.

"S-So my mention of 'p-past loyalties' was just to extract c-cash for the group from s-selling the map. Not s-some p-plan for... b-betrayal," she said, an angry tone rising out of her, "Hiram is one of the only god damn p-people out in this f-fucking wasteland of a p-planet that actually helped me... c-cared about me... f-fuck... why would I... b-betray him..." she said. Sweat was pouring down. She was biting her lip at this point. It was getting harder and harder.

"There, I said my p-part. Now, s-set the gun down. S-something b-bad might happen if you don't. And that's not a threat. That's taking in everyone's well b-being," she said, her voice audibly weaker, "Remember S-Sandman's Gorge. That... thing... It's a hungry tiger b-backed into a c-corner, and I don't know how long I c-can k-keep it b-back..." her breathe was heavy. The callings were strong now. It took all of her strength to try and hold back. Her arms were shaking on the table, struggling to keep her up. The mental war between keeping her sanity and letting the beast loose was taking a great toll on her.

[Jessjohnesik]

"If anyone asked me, I'd say I believe her. But then, no one is really asking me. " Dahl stated in defence of Eira. Although Dahl wasn't too keen to intervene in conflicts, she preferred to just stay quiet and do what needs to be done. And while she certainly wouldn't allow Russ to torture or beat Eira unless it was necessary and proven that she had to beaten, the German wouldn't quite do anything should Russ completely ignore Eira's explanation and Dahl's sympathy. After all, Eira was part of this group, hell, she is.

Anna on the other hand, while somewhat acknowledging the unfolding situation right to her side, continued to rant about her terroristic plans as if she were a mad scientist of some sort. Or a psychopath. The line wears thin between the two meanings in Anna's case.

"Well, Monte won't even know what hit it. There simply won't be any evidence left. Although I see your concern. We could use that Carracut idea of mine though. It's just I have to put the right dosage of the venom in the gas. Too little and all you get is merely sever drowsiness and maybe some side effects later, too much and everyone will die...although isn't that the point? But I see why we wouldn't really want to kill anyone." Anna ranted, smiling and going into her own thoughts right after.

[Mincaldenteans]

Severine visibly shuddered at the memory of Sandman's Gorge, squeezing Jack's hand but letting go quickly, half wishing she didn't let go - not like Jack would protest (or so she was convinced). Her recollection of that day was still pretty vivid, particularly because of Eira's little... 'incident'. Some part of her brain had forced the revulsion to the back of the deepest part of her mind and the young woman went quietly away from the feasting Eira, while the other part screamed to put a bullet in her head while the cannibal wasn't looking. She often wondered if it would be an act of mercy. But Sev didn't and instead avoided her for the most part because of her dietary habit.

As of late however, it wasn't as though Eira was waiting to spoon anyone's eye out as hors d'oeuvres while they slept and the girl had been there during Russ' own little existential incident that night in the desert. Maybe she'd let Eira hug Shammy every so often, cuddly plush creatures were calming after all.

"She was there when you told us about your... issue, Russ," Sev said quietly, leaning forward a bit to put her arms on the table.

"She could have betrayed us at any time. Hiram here or Hiram gone, it wouldn't have mattered, not where money is concerned. What matters is that she didn't and while I have my own misgivings about her many facets, particularly where Sandman's Gorge is concerned, she hasn't gone out of her way to being a threat to us. Ask Jack if you don't believe us. AA headquarters was the perfect place to take out four more of us while she skipped and hopped around pretending to be part of them. Or even earlier back at the ruins, she could have contacted her former affiliates - and wouldn't have that turned out to be more than the shit storm that it was? Eira's had plenty of opportunities and we're still here. That's good enough for me."

[Cylarn]

Russ wasn't scared of the cannibal dwelling within Eira, by any means. He had several other people that would've jumped in, had she turned. However, Russ wasn't looking for a fight, and although his sexual encounter with Eira didn't particularly mean anything, he did trust her a bit more. Slowly, he lowered his pistol as he thought about the group she mentioned. Despite her explanation of the group, he didn't really sympathize with her view on said group, and more or less figured its research moniker was just a statement for people to rally behind while they did more or less the same as AA.

When Sev brought up Russ's condition, Dr. Chauncey, cleared his throat. While Bran and the Doc stitched up Russ's injuries from earlier, the mercenary had mentioned his medical condition, which Doc decided to evaluate. The results were astonishing; Russ had been conned out of a thousand bucks, on the belief that he was suffering from cancer. There were no tumors and no cancerous cell in his body; for all of Russ's vices, he was in a rather decent medical condition.

"If I may," Chauncey said. "I studied Russell's medical condition, and I am rather pleased to mention that Russell was the victim of an erroneous medical examination."

Russ grinned at the comment, but then again, they were getting off-track. He slammed his fist onto the table, his eyes scanning everyone for a moment.

"Fuck all this chatter," he said. "I guess I'll trust you on this one, Eira. However, we have to get a move on and instigate this operation. Anyone wish to add somethin'?"

[Ayreonia]

The sudden standoff took Parish by surprise, to put it mildly. He slammed his glass down mid-swallow, scrambled backwards as much as his chair allowed, and made a reach towards his holster - only to be reminded that his weapons were still confiscated. He did have his knife, but there was this old saying about knives and gunfights, so all he could do was to sit back, shiver, and watch the situation unfold.

It went down without bloodshed, surprisingly and thankfully. Thankfully because one, Parish didn't like bloodshed, and two, he would have had a hard time picking sides. Choosing between a cannibal and a mass murderer, he thought, a bit depressed. There's no depth lower than this I could sink.

However, as mentioned above, the situation got defused, and everyone looked like they'd be off to their respective errands. Parish stood up with them, a bit unsteady from all the gin.

"Uh, guys?" he stammered. "I... I don't know what my role in all this is, but the good First Sergeant here," he gestured at Russ, "said I'd be free to go my way after we've retrieved your dear leader. I, however, won't be of much use without my equipment." He spread his arms and looked down on his empty webbing and holsters. "So, any chance I could get my gear back? I will not use it to shoot any of you. Pinky promise."

[Jessjohnesik]

"Ok, now that the plan's base is loosely in place and we got the AA's base layout thanks to Sev, shouldn't we perfect it? Telling each and everyone what their role is would be great too." Dahl spoke up, unintentionally completely ignoring Parish, despite having heard him. Dahl didn't quite like the absence of a perfectly cut diamond plan, which she believed the lack of which would doom the group to failure and possibly, rather likely, death.

"I couldn't agree more." Clara supported while cleaning her wing using a tiny, flexible robotic appendage.

[The Carlisle]

Eira let out a sigh of relief as Russ put down the gun. The urges from within lessened until they were gone. "That was way too close," she thought. She leaned back in her chair, letting the tension ease out. She could not feel this way before doing this mission. She looked to Dahl as she spoke. The german brought up a good point. "W-well, that depends f-for me. I'm k-kind of a w-wildcard," she said, laughing a bit," B-But, if everything s-stays the same well, I c-could guide the group or p-part of the group. I already know my w-way around just b-by looking at my map. P-Plus I'll be an extra g-gunner and can c-carry s-stuff." The mention of carrying items recalled thoughts of what they were gonna bring. Eira looked to Elsha. "Hey, didn't you mention b-bring explosives?" she said, "I know a g-guy who can s-supply us s-some and some extra weapons. F-for f-free. The bastard owes me a c-couple f-favors. We c-can k-kit ourselves there and then at-t-tack," she said.

[Ayreonia]

Slowly but steadily, and with a lot of yelling and arguing, a plan was formulated. Everyone had a part, and in order to succeed, all parts had to fit together seamlessly.

There was no denying the air of nervousness around the group. This operation would be bigger, flashier and more dangerous than anything the crew had pulled off before. Sure, they had fought thugs and bandits, crossed the Deep Sands, discovered the Glow, and even engaged both the AA and Gazprom in direct combat, but this was different. They would attempt a clandestine mission in a big city, right in the heart of Association territory. People would more than likely die if they screwed up, and this time, there was no escape. The only way out was through.

To think it was all for one French asshole.

Russell and Branwyn would handle the big picture. They would contact Cyrus, who'd organize some sort of riotous distraction. Nobody had any idea what exactly, but according to Bran, he was really good at making crowds angry for one reason or another. The crew would strike while AA and the MCPD were distracted by the angry mob.

Severine and Parish were assigned to IT duty. They'd hole up in a room at the Retreat Hotel, now officially the group's improvised headquarters, and try and track AA shipments and traffic to the Outer Lab's location. That way, they'd have a clear destination and knowledge about where not to go in order to avoid any Association personnel before it was time to strike.

Eira's promise about free gear didn't go unheeded. It was agreed that she'd have a chat with this associate of hers, and once she got the stuff, she'd return to the Retreat. Elsha was volunteered to go with her. It would be good to have a friend along in case anything went wrong (and in the Gutter, it could). There was also the slight suspicion some of the group had towards her - maybe she'd be less likely to go cray-cray if there was a friendly face around to remind her of the stakes.

Anna and Dr Chauncey would acquire and formulate the toxin for knocking the AA goons out at the lab. This was important. Even all of them combined, they wouldn't have the firepower to overcome the opposition. They guessed. Nobody actually knew what would await them at the "lab." Sleeping enemies were far easier to avoid than ones who were all awake and gun-pointy like.

The rest - Furia, Zee, Dahl, Jack and Aeron - would pass the time scouting out the Gutter, figuring out where and when to move in order to avoid most, or preferably all, unpleasantness. Streets, alleys, walkways, that sort of thing. If they caught a snippet of conversation or beat someone up for information, the better.

---

Sev and Parish got a room. No, not that way. Jack would be angry, and besides, Parish was married to one Mrs Parish. No, they rented it to turn it into the world's saddest intelligence center: one laptop, two people and a way too small bag of nachos.

"Severine?" Parish tried tentatively as he tore the bag of corny goodness open. The smell was something this corner of the world had probably never experienced before. Parish pitied it. "I didn't ask down at the bar, since it seemed to be obvious, given you folk's enthusiasm for rescuing him, but... who is this guy Hiram, anyway? I get it he's your leader, but damn, you're going insane lengths to free him. After finishing your Glow expedition, to boot."

[Mincaldenteans]

The man at the lobby had perked his eyebrows and even made a sneer at the duo, much to Sev’s revulsion. If only she could have punched the guy for whatever perverted thoughts had crossed his mind. She smiled sweetly, certain a few teeth had cracked under the force of the smile and move along with Parish to their new abode. The hotel was slightly above an abomination but only slightly, it slightly reminded her of her own place back at Tits Hills, the dim lines, bare bones "decor" and what looked like makeshift structural pillars that she had to wonder if it was the only thing keeping this damn building from collapsing. The fact she even compared it to her old apartment was offending - at least that place had a couch and blanket there complete with stacks of books. This place was far from cozy and she wondered if she'd need to take a hot bath after all this just to get the filth off her senses. Still, this sorry crap hotel would suffice and Sev had to remind herself there was work to be done rather than criticize their makeshift information nerve center… after a fashion.

Compared to most rooms she’d been in, this one in particular Sev had to grudgingly admit being not too shabby for its two winning amenities: it had working outlets and a reliable steady network from which her laptop could interface to; not shabby at all. The decor was something left to be desired, of course, (plain sand brown walls that went with the plain composite furniture) and her pick of teammates wasn’t exactly her choice either. Sev had kept her mouth shut during the whole barking of orders and group assignations, for the good of the group and Hiram and all that. Their esteemed leader had a lot to answer for if they got him out.

The “if” bothered her, but Sev didn’t dwell on that part, placing the laptop on the table and powered it up. This whole plan was a big ‘if’, nothing was for certain and somehow that didn’t bother her one bit, nor did she question her willingness to go along.

While the laptop did its usual startup sequence, Sev leaned a small white board against the wall behind her computer; something she got along the way to the hotel to better jot things down rather than work on memory alone. It was big enough that she and Parish could write out whatever was necessary - hell, Sev resolved she’d use the wall if that’s what it took, the board was just being considerate. Tossing a marker by it, she sat back down and began linking her laptop to Monte Cristo’s network.

"Severine?”

“Yeah, what is it?” She asked without looking back at Parish. She was already looking for a way to hack into Monte Cristo’s extensive surveillance systems, but Sev wasn’t sure where to start: Public works, private securities, individual private surveillance, or the city’s main local police. She went for the public works. Whether the system was efficient or not would be determined much later, right now her primary objectives were hacking into a functioning surveillance system, then hacking into AA’s comm channels (again), and then tracking each signal with a pattern they could discern. The minor details would be tackled later or on the go.

“I didn't ask down at the bar, since it seemed to be obvious, given you folk's enthusiasm for rescuing him, but... who is this guy Hiram, anyway? I get it he's your leader, but damn, you're going insane lengths to free him. After finishing your Glow expedition, to boot."

That was a good question and Sev stopped a moment to think about it, still not facing the old man. She tilted her head, as though she was going to answer and instead shrugged and went back to working. Her speedy typing and Parish’s crunching on some snack were the only sounds in the room.

Finally, she got around to answering, though she wasn’t sure if it was one that would satisfy Parish’s curiosity. It didn’t matter. “Hiram’s a friend,” she began.

“I’m not sure what else I can say about him simply because we’ve only been together for a relatively short time - the group, I mean. But despite his hard exterior or need to display his machismo, he’s actually a pretty decent guy from what I can tell. I don’t think any of us expected to stick together this long. We have our differences - hot fucking damn do we have our differences - but Hiram’s somehow become the glue that binds us together. When he got captured, it’s like we didn’t twice about our next move: we hauled ass to get here. Makes me wonder if any of the others think the same way. Personally? I think it’s because he actually cares about us, and on this planet that’s a next-to-impossible commodity to have.”

Sev shrugged again, a frown etched itself upon her features. She had missed a domain area and needed to pull back - no sense getting cocky and found out for her ‘quiet’ intrusion into Monte Cristo’s public surveillance. She continued, “If that’s not a leader to follow, then either I seriously reexamine my life and the choices I make from here on out or he’s the greatest con to walk this forsaken ball of rock and we’re dumb enough to fall for it.

“But it’s not even like that; at least I don’t think it’s like that. Hiram is just… Hiram, and we’re his group for better or for worse or unless Jack wisps me away.” She stopped her typing and turned her head slightly back, not really revealing her face but a small smile could be seen if Parish was looking hard enough to notice. It was an epiphany Sev hadn’t ever thought she’d come to, much less dwell on. Could it be? Sev had reservations to even calling it that no thanks to her past and the idea was preposterous but it had some validity to it.

“Crew is family,” Severine finished and began typing again.