[REDACTED]: The Chimes of Freedom



Original poster
Carlos Estevez sat worriedly in his van on the third floor of a parking garage a block away from NMRF-LA, where, at least until tommorow, he worked. The entire facility was being redacted - eqipment dismantled or retasked, records destroyed...

He'd saved as much of the research database as he could - no telling when it might come in handy - and he was in the process of saving as many of the subjects as he could. Moreaus, they were calling them now, and he supposed it was fitting.

"The Chimes of Freedom" by the Byrds came wafting over the radio, and he smiled tiredly at the irony. Or perhaps the appropriateness. He wasn't sure at this point. He'd managed to arrange for their cells - because that's what their 'living quarters' really were, no matter how comfortable and prettied up - to be 'accidentally' left unlocked, the security recorders blanked out (he'd had to call in a few favors on that one to make it look like an espionage job), and three unusually brave Navy Masters-At-Arms had agreed to stage a one-sided firefight before being rendered unconscious by time-release pharmaceuticals.

He'd left his locker unlocked, too - it was in one of the first rooms they should encounter after getting out of their Containment & Observation Complex, and he'd stashed a crowbar, bootleg keycard, and a map of the facility, along with contact instructions and a list of people who would be sympathetic.

He sighed and turned the music up. All he could do now was wait. He took solace in the fact that if he was caught, they'd probably stage a gang shooting rather than turning him into a martyr.

Sublevel 3, Containment & Observation Complex B, Hallway G (Living Quarters)

The rapid ca-da-crak! ca-da-crak! of Seaman Apprentice Gaverre's long rifle was the last to stop. His bursts tracked onto the ceiling as he fell unconscious, spread eagled on the ground behind a makeshift barricade thrown together out of obstacles from Complex B's firing range.
His eyes flickered open. At fist he wondered if he had overslept and some sort of training exercise was going on. In a second he was on his feet and facing the door, but something was off. Without a sound he moved to the door and looked out of the armored window and was surprised when the door moved as he pressed against the glass. grabbing the handle he pulled it open sneaking down the corridor his ears moving searching for the sounds of guards. "Is this a test?" he asked himself before almost tripping over a body as he rounded a corner.

"Seaman?!" he said leaning over the drugged soldier checking his breathing before looking around. slowly he picked up the guard's M16 and checked the clip, he also slid out the guard's bayonet cutting the belt before heading down the corridor "If this is a test they won't find me unprepared... though live rounds... Wonder if escape is the objective.."
Slowly, Wirewhisker stirred, blearily opening one eye. Laying there for a while, she twitched her tail... just... thinking back on this dream she had last night. Soon, however, the dream was gone. Just a fleeting memory. She missed it, and contemplated going back to sleep...

Her whiskers twitched. Something... wasn't right. Her eyes shot open, and she rose into a sitting position, looking about... wrapping the blankets around her nude body, she crept over to the door, looking out... to moderate darkness. No guards... "Hey." She said, knocking on her door... which creaked open.

Her fur stood on end, and she jumped back, wrapping the blankets tighter around herself... still, nothing happened. She pushed the door forward, her bare, clawed feet padding slightly on the ground. "H... Hello...?"

Her foot stepped on cloth, and she looked down at body of a guard - the fur rose on the back of her neck, and her back was against the wall the next moment, sidling away from it... "I have to get out of here..." Able to get a grip on herself enough so sidle back and grab the unconscious guard's pepper spray, she holds the blankets up with one hand, pepper spray ready to go... stealthily creeping down the corridor without a sound, ears perked for any sounds... tense, but alert.