Rough and Tumble Mercenaries: II

[Ascendant Aegis]

"Attention, citizens. We, the people of Mars, will not stand for UNCA oppression. Report all subversives and reactionaries. Failure to report anti-citizens will result in security action. Remain vigilant against Earther infiltrators and those who wish to destabilize our great nation. The Ministry of Defense, Public Safety, and Information work tirelessly to protect our--"

It was another hot, arid day on the Red Planet. Despite their best efforts to terraform the rock, it remained just as hostile and unforgiving as it had been before. Difference being, now the air was at least somewhat more breathable and now with a small population of criminals, ex-pats, mercs, hookers, and all other sorts of undesirables. The smell of rust was thick in the air, as was the waves of heat slowly baking everything on the surface-- like an oven.

"Load'a fekkin' biz. The fuck swallows that shit, anyways?"

Vanderson sighed as the propaganda drone hovered past above her head, continuing to spout off line after line of blatant lies and contradictions. Using her pinkie finger to try and pick some food caught inbetween her teeth, she continued down the road with grocery bags in hand. She might have been small in stature, but her tattoos and massive handguns caught eyes as she turned a corner on her heel and entered a tiny apartment building. As the gunman walked up the stairs, she reached up and slapped a crooked sign hanging over the second floor; a poorly-constructed, jagged rectangle reading "Rosa Delivery Company".

The door creaked and groaned as Vanderson kicked it open with a foot, bee-lining for the sofa. Tossing the bags of meager groceries aside by the foot of the seat, she flung herself onto the cushions with a satisfied grunt. In the corner, the wall-mounted tilt fan tried desperately to cool the room; to no avail. Warm air breezed in through the few open windows of the apartment, sending the ragged curtains billowing. The very walls seemed to be inexplicably exhausted, the yellowed paper peeling off in some places and the drywall torn open in others. It would seem like any other habi-block on Mars, were it not for the guns and ammunition strewn about the room, along with the collection of very strange people.

"Bing bong, knabs! Got some 'rats, didn't ave much at the mart, though. Lucky I got my mitts on a case of milk; shit's rare as an honest Earther-"

Her hand naturally extended towards the small table next to her spot; grabbing for a bottle of beer. Knocking over a few empty bottles, her fingers finally felt their way to an unopened example; grabbing the neck and bringing it back towards her. Her thumb sent the cap flying off with a soft pop as she glanced around at the other inhabitants of the apartment/office.

Fresh meat, playing with his fancy medi-shit.. Sexbot, doin' whatever robos do in his spy corner. The fuckin' nerd's at it with her terminals and shit. Bet she gets off to monitors, or somethin'. Benny, writtin' paperwork or some shit, probably.

She snorted, taking a long swig of beer as she leaned back down into the sofa, trying desperately to ignore the strength-sapping heat. It wasn't really working.

 

[Dvyniai]

ERIS

While he certainly didn't feel the heat the same as a human, Eris could tell it was damnably hot, thanks to his internal temperature gauges. Even if he didn't have the aid of his mechanics, he could tell by the irritable behavior of the humans. That and how much they were sweating. It was somewhat fascinating if he was honest. Particularly because it wasn't something he could imitate.

As it was, he was stretched out the corner that had been delegated as "his", doing his best to regulate his temperature. He might not feel the heat like a human would, but it still wouldn't be good for his body to overheat. Staying really still was his current tactic. His chair was leant back as far as it could safely go, with his feet propped up on the folding table that was his desk. A headband pushed his shaggy dark hair off of his forehead and a thin blouse some might recognize as a woman's ruffled in the light breeze coming through the open window.

With his eyes closed, face relaxed, and arms loosely folded over his chest, he was a picture of ease; and an exact replica of a pose he had seen his owner strike frequently.

"Is that actually comfortable?" he remembered asking her, head tilted to the side quizzically, like he often saw Axel - another merc working with Vante - do when he was trying to understand something.

"Of course," Lilliane responded, cracking an eyelid. "Why would I sit like this if it wasn't?"

Not long after that he had started copying the pose when he was pretending to relax. The amused smile she had given him the first time she caught him still gave Eris a warm feeling in his chest. Pride. No. Fondness? Maybe. It didn't matter.

Now, he cracked an eye the same way Lilliane had, at the sound of the door opening. Seeing it was just Vanderson with her groceries, he closed it again. Not very… what was the right word? Ah, exciting. He had thought it might be word of their mission instead; which was foolish anyways. If they had received their mission it would come from Ramirez, not Vanderson. He couldn't help it though. He did not... like the waiting. It reminded him of -

A knife pining his hand to the table, and another held against his throat; steely grey eyes.

There was a lot at stake for him, and it was all resting on this one mission. The waiting, it made him feel like - like the apprehension before a fight. And not just any fight; the type of fight he didn't think he could win. Although there was a twisting feeling in his abdomen that was new, an itch under his skin. The update.

He was moving before it fully registered, slinging his legs back down onto the ground with a distinct bang. He turned to face Ramirez, leaning his elbow against the table, and propping his cheek on his fist, like he had also seen Lilliane do. She often did it when she was trying to be disarming.

"When are we going to do something?" he asked, voice devoid of emotion despite the petulant phrasing. "Besides sitting here."

 

[kookyboy9]

Felicia R. Gloria

Location: Rosa Delivery Company
Date: Unknown

Interactions:

Felicia was in the middle of reassembling her drone after some routine maintenance to it. It had been acting funny for a while, and she'd found a bit of debris clogging up one of the fans keeping the device aloft. She'd been at it for hours, and her constant glancing at the terminal in front of her - a street display of all the entrances to the building - wasn't helping things much. So caught up in her delusions of danger, she almost leapt out of her seat when the terminal gave off a soft ping as an email arrived in her inbox. Had someone caught on to her trail again? She'd been hopeful about this job, but they'd been sitting here for far too long for her tastes. If their employer didn't come through on the details soon, she'd have to move on again, and she'd miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Hands shaking slightly, she opened her email, giving it a quick once over before releasing an audible sigh of relief. It was just a normal business email. One of her previous clients was looking to hire her to perform another job. She'd have to try to get back to him on that in a few days. If she remembered correctly, the client normally operated out of the UNCA, so it'd take a few days for the message to get off-planet anyways. Waiting to see if this job would actually come through shouldn't delay that.

Another glance at the surveillance footage outside showed Vanderson coming back from her grocery trip. Much as she was aggressive and hurtful to anyone who tried to talk to her, her actions showed that she at least seemed to care a bit. Like one of those characters out of those old cartoons from pre-space civilization. What was the term again? Tsindire? Tsandere? Wasp was pretty into the things. She'd never really cared enough to take a look, though. Perhaps he could remind her? Or... not. that could be a bad idea, considering how much he liked them.

She was shaken from her thoughts by a loud bang, starting and darting her gaze back to the monitors, before realizing that it was just Eris shifting positions. He wanted to know when the group was going to do something. She certainly agreed with the sentiment, although she didn't want to be the one to bring it up. Perhaps this would answer her question?

 

[Kazama]

Earlier...

Martian heat, specifically Desert Habitable Martian heat, is a real son of a bitch. Every time Jack thinks he's seen the worst of it, that he's adapted to it, the planet seems to get even hotter. Just for kicks. It seemed to be challenging itself with this most recent heatwave. It was so hot, he thought he'd die. An olive green t-shirt, the standard issue kind they give UNCA troops, clung to his chest with sweat. He thought his boots were going to melt into him soon, it was so unbelievably hot.

And this... fucking AC refused to start. Jack was slow to anger, but this little metal asshole was seriously testing him. It'd been thirty minutes of crouching up in the attic, trying to see what was wrong with it. And nothing. Nada. The AC remained defiant. Fucking thing would probably give him the finger if it could.

He wiped his brow and swore. He had half a mind to land the Victoria on the habi-block roof and run a hose from her life support's temperature unit through a goddamn window.

"Come on..." he fumed, whacking the side of the unit with the back end of a screwdriver. Vanderson had just left. It was unlikely, but maybe she'd be able to bring back something cold to drink. He gave the AC unit another thunk and stood up.

"Fuck's sake, fine. You win, you goddamn, son of a..." he didn't finish that. With a sigh, he ran his hand his hand down his face face, through his beard. He was fighting with an air conditioner... Whatever. The damn thing was too old anyway. Old and busted up beyond repair.

A chime from the terminal in his office (more of a desk with a few filing cabinets stuffed in a corner up here) brought him out his musing. He moved to his desk, thankful for any excuse to leave the unit alone. When he opened up the email, he was not disappointed...

A job offer.
Yaßen Emergency Clinic. Medical crates. Bandits. Retrieve. Perfect.

-----

A little back and forth with the client later, and they had a job.

He shut down the office terminal just as Vanderson stormed back in. It was impossible not to hear her.

"Please have fresh beer with you." he whispered as he scraped the chair back and headed downstairs.

He found most of his crew downstairs. Vanderson was here, but the only drinks around were the old, warmed up bottles of beer from before. And milk.

"They had milk, but nothing cold?" he asked, settling for a lukewarm bottle as he shook his head, "This planet, I swear..."

Eris asked him something as he raised the bottle to his lips. He held up a finger as he took a long, drawn out series of gulps. Drink first. Questions later. When he brought the bottle away, it came with a sufficiently satisfied, "Aah."

"Funny you ask. I just finished talking to a client about a retrieval gig." He waited for everyone to sit up, now that something worthwhile was on the table.

"Yaßen Emergency Clinic. You guys hear of 'em? Well, they move cargo through the Haasdnt Region and word around the block is, somebody helped themselves to some of their stuff. Local bandits, probably the same assholes we saw on the Skinner job last month. Small time punks. You know the type."

"They're holed up in that industrial site in Haasdnt. The one in the mountains around there." He took another swig of his drink, "Whatever they lifted, it's gonna be there. Client's paying 1500 for each crate, and a nice 3k for each shipping container. We're gonna want those containers."

He nodded at Felicia, "That means we're gonna wanna set up the Victoria's bomb bay for heavy lifting. I want you checking the crane in the cargo hold to make sure it still works. Hardware AND software."

"The bandits are bandits. We'll deal with them how we have to. If it comes down to shooting, fuck 'em. They know what they signed up for." he said, turning his nods to Eris and Vanderson next.

"Job's due in two days, so we're leaving within the hour. We might not be the only crew on this job either. So grab your shit, I wanna be on the ship and taking off in thirty. Where's the new guy?" he asked, looking around, and shouting, "Callahan! Somebody go kick him."

He finished his drink and set it on the table. With a clap of his hands, he ordered, "Alright come on, double time. Let's earn our keep."

Before Vanderson could scurry off, he stopped her and added, "Take the milk with you, we're gonna need to store that on the ship. Too hot in here."

 

[The Wanderer]

Liam Callahan

The location of the group's medic was actually close as in just right outside. The man's blonde hair visible through the window as the doctor was currently waiting for a delivery of medical supplies. The heat was slowly working at Liam, who had spent hours in the heat, sweat making latex gloves stick to him more with sweat than blood and grime of what was expected of relief aid. But this was getting unbearable as he stood in the sun, waiting for the supplies to boost up the stock.

Not that they were low or anything, in fact they would be good for at least four missions or in his eyes. Eight operations on injuries. But as someone once told him, it was best to have a bit in excess so no one could cough without getting a bandage and disinfection. As there was one thing that killed more than bullets on Mars, and that was infection. And allowing a teammate to die of something so measly as infection would kinda hamper a reputation. Either that or get him a bullet.

But so far no one had shown up. Which combined with the heat had pushed Liam over the edge of being annoyed, so with a curse in Gaelic, Liam would walk back inside as their Captain yelled for his name. Making Liam snap to attention. "Right 'ere, sir. Just waitin' on supplies to be delivered so I can boost our medical stockpile." That was when he was filled in on their latest job. Someone had gone and nicked medical supplies from a convoy, which would explain why the supplies he ordered had not be fulfilled.

Liam didn't need to be told twice to gear up, some arseholes had robbed medical equipment or medicine that someone desperately needed, which considering Liam's occupation and morals, was the equivalent of kicking a kitten that was crippled and blind. So he didn't care much for the bandits wellbeing once they arrived, he'd still suggest talking it out to avoid wasting time and ammo as well as medical supplies should someone get hurt.

Dressing in his gear, which made the heat more unbearable, Liam would put some water bottles into his duffle-bag that were at room temperature which meant lukewarm, but water was water. Best to stay hydrated, but the extra weight with the ammo and the large amount of first aid equipment in said duffle-bag did make it bulge a bit.

Grabbing his helmet, but not putting it on as that would just be pointless in a non-combat situation, he would wait for the others to get ready for their journey to the ship then onto their mission.

@Kazama @kookyboy9 @Dvyniai @Ascendant Aegis

 

[Ascendant Aegis]

Vanderson would give a dry chuckle as she swung her feet down from the table, still slouched comfortably in the ragged couch. Two narrow eyes peeked over her raised bottle as she took another swig of beer; the cheap booze dropping back down to her lap, revealing an amused expression on her face.

"'Ey, dumbass. You'll fuckin' fry in that chicken-shit outfit. Save it for when we actually get there, retard."

Another dry snicker, as she set the bottle on the table and stood. Arching her back and extending her arms upward, she gave a slow yawn as she cracked her back; shifting over to Jack and grabbing the bottle of milk with a soft snort.
———
Personally, Elizabeth thought the new guy was adorable. Not adorable, as in cute; moreso adorable in the vein of a tiny puppy in a cage of Dobermans and Pitbulls. The idiot was about as far from a native Martian as one could get, even to his drinking habits. She had been opposed to letting him join, but Jack was the boss; and thus, got final say. At this point, she was just seeing how long it took before a seven-sixty two folded the boy in half, or he literally boiled to death in that stupid suit of his. Morbid interests, she supposed, but entertaining nonetheless.

Regardless, at least the newbie could actually shoot. The geek had a shottie, but it didn't really matter when she could barely use it. And, Vanderson still didn't know what the tin can's deal was. Normally, she would have no reason to question Jack's reasoning - after all, she was the guns and brawn, not the brains; but couldn't he see that they were all liabilities?

Maybe she wasn't seeing something. Jack was the boss-man for a reason. Oh well.
———
"Jesus-fuckin'-A, finally. I was beginnin' to think we were goin' legitimate."

She glanced back as her free hand brushed past the exposed handle of one of her two handguns, an almost-feral grin slowly splitting her face; relatively similar to the grin a shark gives shortly before going in for the kill.

"Can't wait to ice some fuckin' shitheads. Things were gettin' sorta borin', anyways."

 

[Dvyniai]

ERIS

Ah, finally.

At the nod in his and Vanderson's direction, a grin found its way to Eris's face; feral, more teeth than lip. It was always good for him when given permission for violence.

"Got'cha," he told Jack with a wink, pushing to his feet as well.

It seemed Vanderson had the same reaction. While the expression he copied was from yet another merc of Vante's, hers was equally as feral, if not more. She was an interesting woman. His gaze lingered on her face, analyzing before he blinked and forced himself to look away.

Vanderson was very violent for a human, he had noticed. And that was saying something when he spent the majority of his time with trained killers. It was that she was aggressive, excessively so, towards everyone, not just her enemies. If there was a psychological reason why, Eris had yet to figure it out. Perhaps it was simply her nature. Or she was trying to make up for something. Her size maybe.

She didn't trust anyone but herself, and Ramirez. Out of all of them, he tagged her as the hardest to win over. Time, and making sure he was a reliable team member, would most likely be the only way. Oh, and to match her violence. Something he could certainly accomplish easily.

There wasn't much Eris had to do to get ready, besides switch his flowy, flashy blouse for a much more discreet t-shirt, and slip his handguns into the holsters at either hip. He never went anywhere without his knives, strapped to various points of his body, but the handguns he often didn't feel the need to carry unless they were heading into a fight. It was smart to have the option, even if he preferred close combat. Before declaring himself ready, he paused to make sure all the straps to his sheaths were properly tightened.

Reliability was the surest way to win over any crew member, he knew. It would work well for Ramirez too. He cast a quick glance towards their captain. Big, strong, military-type - with the dubious morality of a merc. It was clear he had a lot of experience in this sort of work, in the way he spoke and carried himself, as well as how he ran the crew. He currently was really sweaty, Eris also noted idly.

The ones with the least experience had to be tied between Callahan and Gloria, just in different ways. Callahan seemed to have enough experience in combat to defend himself. Even though he was clearly very green, his skills as a medic made up for it when everyone but Eris himself was human. Squishy, and prone to breaking. Being friendly and kind towards him would also work towards winning his favor.

Gloria though had even less combat experience than Callahan. As far as he knew, she couldn't shoot and barely knew how to use that knife of hers. She would be their weakest link in a battle. Her skills as a hacker and mechanic were extremely beneficial, however. And he knew more than anyone how evasive she could be. Seeing as he had spent nearly a year hunting her for the MCC.

A faint frown tugged at his lips, as he cut her a glance, tightening the last strap. For that exact reason, gaining her trust would be… unpredictable. It was still unclear whether or not she recognized him.

When it came to him, however, he wasn't sure any of them would ever truly gain his trust. The light frown quickly morphed into a full-blown scowl, like the one he saw on Lilliane when he truly got her pissed off.

They were humans after all. And he was not, no matter how hard he tried to be sometimes.

Once finished getting prepped, he straightened and then swept out of the room without saying anything or waiting for anyone else. His left eye twitched. He should - should be staying back and talking to them, weaseling his way in, gaining their trust. That was his primary directive. But - fuck that. He rubbed at his twitching eye aggressively, as he stalked out to the port.

 

[Kazama]

Once everyone was ready, Jack let them load up into the repurposed military truck they tended to use to get around town. The thing was halfway on its journey to becoming a jalopy, but it still managed to start, carry things, and otherwise avoid bursting into flame. So it would continue to do for now.

The trip to the ship hangars wasn't very long. A few minutes at most. Before they knew it, the Rosa Victoria came into view, nestled comfortably in its dock between a commercial cargo ship and a rusting passenger ship.

The Rosa Victoria was an old K17-MkII multi-purpose heavy craft. While she wasn't state of the art, she was a tough old bitch and had seen Jack through a hell of a lot. Her hull was still pockmarked with a sprinkling of battle scars and close calls. There were as many patches that had been painted over to cover scorch marks and after replacing hull pieces due to flak damage as there were spots that still needed to be prettied back up. And between those, long, dark sears in the armor too long or big to properly replace without a total hull remodel. On her side, a decal had been sprayed on. A pair of roses entwined around a crown.

The Rosa Victoria was an old thing, but she promised to stick around for long time to come. Sometimes, she even threatened to outlive them.

The ship loomed over the truck and Jack parked it in a reserved space nearby.

"Come on, let's load up," he said, swinging the truck door open. As they approached and unloaded their stuff off the truck, Jack held up a small device. With the hiss of hydraulics and a metallic creak, the Rosa's rear loading ramp opened up to a dark, cavernous maw. A moment later, the lights inside flickered on, and revealed the maw as the cargo bay.

The cargo bay was mostly empty at the moment. Some crates lashed to the ground here and there, mostly with supplies and spare parts. There was a set of lockers against one wall, and a locked up armory locker with a row of rifles visible through the it's grid-like face. Up on the ceiling, a mechanical claw hung on a cross section of beams. It looked like a giant mechanical claw game. Kind of worked like one too.

"Don't forget to check that," Jack reminded Felicia, jerking a thumb over to the claw, his other arm hoisting up a heavy crate onto his shoulder.

The port side door opened as well and a small ramp rolled out of there, an entry straight into the center of the ship, where the living area was. It was fairly roomy in here. A pair of old couches had been bolted to the ship's ground, along with a table between them. A pop up monitor could be summoned from the table, though out here, there wasn't much to watch besides propaganda ads and shitty soap operas. A kitchenette had been built into one wall, with everything needed to prepare most kinds of meals.

Down a hallway: crew quarters, then the cargo room. Both of those right above the engine room. In the other direction, the cockpit, Felicia's comms room (more of a closet really), and a secondary storage bay that wasn't on the ship's schematics and that you had to crawl under the steps leading to the cockpit. In case they got searched.

All in all, the Rosa Victoria would take care of them if they took care of her.

 

[kookyboy9]

Felicia R. Gloria

Location: Rosa Delivery Company
Date: Unknown

Interactions:

A mission to pick up medical supplies? And 1500 per crate? Felicia wasn't any expert in medicine, but something sounded fishy about this. There either had to be some sort of really valuable medicine in those crates, or they were being lied to. That wouldn't do. She'd have to see if Jack would let her scan the crates on the way back. No way she wanted to be on a ship hauling unknown cargo. What if it was some sort of bomb? Or worse, a biological weapon? The MCC had to still be pissed about their ships. What if this was a setup?

She'd definitely ask Jack to scan those crates once the group was inbound. She didn't want to bring it up with everyone else here. Especially Vanderson. She was sure Vanderson would never let it go if she caught on to Felicia's desire to scan them. Probably pick her up some sort of new derogatory nickname. Regardless, she needed to finish her reassembling her drone. But first... the monitor still showed the entrance as being clear. A relief to be certain.

She'd just finished reassembling the machine when Jack began loading all of them up into his truck. She followed behind everyone else, quietly watching them exit the premises before following herself. Then again with the truck. She let them all load in and waited for the truck to start before jumping in and fastening her seatbelt. A car bomb would certainly be a good way to get rid of someone, after all. An "accidental collision" would be even better though. Less explaining to do to the public. She should probably see if Jack wanted her to try to do service on the vehicle when they got back. She wasn't an expert in cars, but her implant should at least be able to help her find any problems with critical components. And log where everything went.

The group reached the hanger all too quickly, Felicia cringing as they drove between the ships. If there was an ambush waiting, this'd be where it would happen. Fortunately, however, no ambush seemed forthcoming. She followed the rest of the crew to the ship, simply nodding at Jack's comment about the crane, before splitting off from the rest of the group, heading for a terminal overlooking the cargo bay. Fortunately, the terminal also provided her with an overlook of the entrance, so she'd be able to relax a little while she did the diagnostics. Speaking of which, she flicked the terminal on. A few minutes later, the startup diagnostic was displayed across the screen. The crane didn't seem to be able to move correctly. Perhaps something was wrong with one of the control lines?

She picked up a harness, then strapped it on and rappelled up to the rafters, following the metal beams to the crane, before dropping down on the line to take a closer look. A closer investigation revealed that something had chewed its way through the cable that normally conveyed signals to control the vertical positioning of the crane. Fortunately, it'd be an easy patch, but it'd probably take up her time until the pre-flight checks were finished.

---

The maintenance on the crane had taken about as long as Felicia had figured it would, especially with her frequent glances towards the door to make sure nobody had opened the door to sneak aboard. Now she just had to find Jack to ask about the scanning thing. He was probably in the cockpit about now? She'd check there first.

 

[The Wanderer]

Liam Callahan

Liam ignored the jab to his gearing up, considering that one couldn't be too safe in places where you could get shot at the drop of a hat. It's why back in the day, the doctors wore body armor and sometimes had to wear armor so heavy they couldn't do surgery too great because the populace they were treating at that particular time were known to be suicide bombers. Typically of the variety that hide ticking time bombs on the inside. Liam shuddered at the memory of one such event that nearly killed half of the surgical team had the x-ray not detected the 'anomaly' in the chest that started said trend of wearing body armor.

It did cost one of Liam's friends' arms and most of her face.

When they finally arrived at the dock for the ship, Liam would carry his equipment aboard after Jack had lowered the ramp that led into the rear of the ship, putting his stuff near the lockers. While going off to put the medical equipment he had brought along that wouldn't be coming with him on the mission, to restock whatever the ship had for medical storage. As his mother would say "No bleedin' idiot should not 'ave a medical kit nearby no matter where 'hey go." She had gotten drunk at a wedding, and thankfully wasn't belligerent. But had some trouble saying some letters here and there.

And considering the occupation of the crew and him, being stocked was something they'd need just in case.

@kookyboy9 @Kazama @Ascendant Aegis

 

[Ascendant Aegis]

Vanderson skipped/drunkenly stumbled onto craft, meandering around until she found her designated seat. Crumpling onto it with her legs hanging off the side, she obnoxiously breathed out some smoke from her smoldering cigarette.

"Y'know, we should really do this more often. Nerd's gotta move around s'more."

She gave a soft snicker, pointing her cigarette at the door, in the general direction of cargo bay.

"I mean, look't her! I think a fekkin' breeze coulda knocked her over."

Elizabeth's ears seem to perk up as light footsteps approach the bridge. Continuing to puff her cigarette, she slides off of her chair, slinking over like a coyote stalking it's prey. She leans against the side of the door, waiting to ambush the smaller girl as she entered the bridge. Glancing over at Jack with a mischievous smile, she clears her throat and keeps an eye on the door light; breathing out another soft cloud of soft smoke.
------
The approach is clear; not much air-traffic out in the rural areas. The so-called industrial site had been an arms manufacturing plant during the big war; but with budget cuts, had been stripped of everything important and abandoned. An apt metaphor for most everything else in the area. A pillar of smoke could be seen rising from within the stripped-out factory buildings, indicative of a campfire or something similar. Somebody was definitely in there. Small dots, representing people, could be seen far down, dotting the factory's courtyards and the area around it. For a gang, they were at least somewhat organized. Best bet would either be to go in hard, or land some distance away and try to go in quiet. It was unlikely they had any serious AA, but a bunch of idiots with guns were still dangerous nonetheless.