The Last Bastion: Bunker Chicago

[Ai]

Convict

Fog covers my visions and this stupid ass mask isn't helping me see. I listen to these fuckwits giving a shit about how Bosho is going to survive. My boss sends report over a radio, I figure it was an odd mistake for a leader to make. Figure they're incompetent or leading us into a death trap, with the mission they are sending us on I assume the latter.

I look at what the cat dragged in, two pretty boys a bunch of loud fuckin' tanks, a bunch of arrogant twits. I could smell the narcissism from a mile away.

"Hey boss, you got a machine gun? Looks like you got pretty lookin' meat on your squad with its own ideas," I send a transmission through the flimsy ass excuse for a communicator and look up into the eyes of a tall, feminine looking man. The kid didn't look like he killed a person in his life.

Should have asked earlier, didn't think I'd get stuck with a bunch of rookies who didn't know the difference between survival and an attack squad. A bad taste enters my mouth and I spit onto the ground following the poor sucker who wandered over to the west end, I figure the command is probably not going to provide me with anything and with this gas mask on I can't even smoke.

I find a place to hide, watching the faggots prance off into the distance and keep my eye on them. Box for all his good looks didn't appear to be subtle. My hands search the rubble for traces of recent movement. Something about this place doesn't feel right so I take out my gun just in case. It was quiet, too quiet.

I immediately search for vantage points, places to hide should we need to escape quickly and possible scenarios of where we could get trapped and old resources that might be available to me. There isn't a lot left, what could have been used for trip wire was gone but that wasn't the end of the world.

Occasionally glancing around my shoulder I make sure we're not being be followed, gotta try to move silently. Be still. I slow my breathing to be as quiet as possible and wait for the trap I suspect that these fuckers just walked into.​

​

 

[Tyrannosaurus Rekt]

Aleksa's brow furrowed underneath her mask. It was an unnecessary gesture as no one could see it, but it reflected her mood. So the magical fog was downright toxic. Aleksa checked her seals again. Carolyn then proceeded to give them the lay of the land and bark out orders like any good commander. It was comforting to know someone had their eye out for their squad. She'd been on a mission or two where the commanding officer just threw them at the problem like so many rotten tomatoes.

"Consider it done," Aleksa said to Carolyn's orders. She wheeled her tank around the other woman's, the treds shifting over the ruins of the destroyed city. She positioned her tank forward, cranking the bulldozer front upwards to protect against whatever came out of that fog. She then released the base plates to stabilize her tank so a high-caliber blast wouldn't send her backward and into Carolyn's tank. Her weapons were primed by then.

The drones exited their capsule with a soft whir, taking to the air like so many metallic birds. Aleksa placed one to guard her ass and two on the sides. As the "ass" drone caught on its camera the giant hog that Dennis had been traveling with. Well, this is new. She positioned the drone to guard the little guy. Maybe he'd like a scratch behind the ear, later. Hm. Is that something that hogs even like? The other two just hovered, near silently, at the tank's sides. She then released two more to investigate the previously mentioned turrets. It seemed as if she was late, though, and they were quickly working on them.

"Gabriel," Aleksa said into her comm. "If you need a place to hunker down, I could always use someone extra fingers to flick some switches. It's a tight fit in here, but not impossible. Though, you might have to buy me a drink afterward."

She looked back to her radar. She was having the same problem as the others. Spots would fade in out and out erratically. Aleksa chewed on her lip. She kept telling herself that she'd been through and seen worse. Yet, this mission had barely started and there were so many variables in play. So, she moved her drones slightly behind the two groups of soldiers on either side. If anything, they could be her eyes, even if the fog wasn't the most giving on that.

 

[Firemind]

Listening in to the words of Morai and Carolyn left Kiku in a bit of a daze, as they discussed the fog being breathable, but not breathable; and chemistry, with sillycones and Cars and bonnets and…

Suffice to say, it flew far above the woman's head.

What she did understand was the order to garrison the nearby buildings and to prepare for their next play. Since Morai and Carolyn suggested it, and since Maria had been sure to mention that Kiku should focus on listening to those two, she nodded along to the idea.

Choosing between the East and the West was a pretty easy task. Bob had been selected by Carolyn to watch the east, and since Carolyn was the one that Maria chose to be in charge, and since Bob was the one that Carolyn chose to be in charge; by process of elimination, that made him her boss; right? Probably? Probably. It was good enough in her mind, as she walked over to join Bob by the eastern entrance. She observed his little ritual of weapon-checks and the medallion-tinkering with a quiet curiosity. Something about him was curious; a sort of…presence that made him fascinating to her normally disquieted mind. He was an older fella, but he was interesting, none the less. Perhaps not attracted, but interesting.

After he finished his ritual, but before they began the sweep, Kiku gave a broad, toothy grin to the man. "Sup boss. Name's Kiku. Want me to go first?" Without explaining her thought process, Kiku took a moment to focus on the strange tingling sensation at the core of her being. It felt like trying to grasp at a pebble just slightly bigger than her hand, but after that brief handful of seconds focusing; she felt the mutation start to take effect. After a tiny shimmer enveloped her, Kiku was rendered invisible to the naked eye. She reached across and tapped Bob's shoulder, before adding "This should make the sneaking a bit easier, huh?" She said, adding a relaxed giggle to the end of the statement. She wordlessly drew her knife, and waited for Bob to give the go-ahead on the sweep, with whatever others joined them. She was keen to be slightly in the lead, thanks to her mutations: both of which were perfect for a sweep.

 

[Brovo]

"Y'all sounding like chickens in a pen. Box in, Box out."
-Box Copter, Page 1.​

Chaos​

As Bob went into the eastern structure, with his entourage, he would find it devoid of any sign of contacts. Between the group's various set of past experiences, they would also be able to discern that combat had gone on in this location recently—within the past few hours, perhaps a couple days at the most. The dust that coated what few bits of remaining furniture there were had been disturbed, and yet, there was no sign of anything living or dead. Just a few bits of blood stains, here and there. The old mansion appeared rather sound, but, certain sections of the second and third floors above the ground level appeared unsteady and rotten. It wouldn't take much force to break them.

In the western structure, Box and Convict would find themselves accompanied by Morai, who silently watched their backs as they proceeded inside. They, too, would find signs of combat, but little else. The second and third floors were absolutely unusable, having been damaged severely, leaving only the ground floor for them to use. Still, there was no sign of any remaining enemies in this building either.

Both buildings eerily lacked any sort of plant life. No roots, no flowers, no overgrown weeds between wooden floors, no trees. There are places where they once must have been, but there was no sign of force as to their removal. It is as if they simply vanished into thin air.

For a few moments, the squad's radios crackle with intense static, and those within the vehicles could hear the hints of voices somewhere in the background of the noise, screaming. Finally, after a minute or so of silence, they would be able to see other radio channels in their wrist communicators lighting up all at once, and in the distance they could hear the sounds of gunfire and tank rounds discharging. Carolyn quickly speaks to the squad through her radio. "Don't change your frequency! I tried to understand what is going on, it's a complete mess and a panic. The Arrowhead group was ambushed, and the two squads ahead of us are falling back. Apparently, Bosho has weaponry powerful enough to punch holes in tanks, and he must be using mutants of a powerful calibre."

Again, their wrist communicators light up, but this time, it was a message from Bunker Chicago itself, meaning there was no way to reply. It was only in text, but the message itself was clear: "Get out now. TC pulling out completely. TC Command Level scared shitless by something ahead of you. You are being abandoned to die. Get Carolyn out of there. --Mouse."

Jenive glances at her wrist communicator. She was barely visible standing atop the western building's roof, in a position to try and snipe at opponents beneath her. "No! We can't abandon the other two squads ahead of us. We should stay until they get to us and help cover their retreat. We can leap each other's cover a few feet at a time. Besides... We need to know what Bosho has, and Carolyn's tank has the equipment to figure it out."

Morai chuckles into the radio as he glances at Convict. There was some measure of respect in his eyes. "Young and foolish. If TC is pulling out completely, they already know, and they just aren't telling us. Whatever it is just wiped out Arrowhead, and weren't they fifty men strong? We should leave, now." Jenive cuts in and speaks again, sounding agitated. "We don't know that all of the men of Arrowhead are dead! We don't know anything, and running isn't going to tell us anything! I'm not stupid! If TC is leaving and won't tell us why, we should learn why! Stay, hold our positions! We'll have better odds together anyway."

Morai shuts off his radio and shakes his head as he glances between Box and Convict. "I hope neither of you buy that propagandist nonsense. We're not better together if we're all blind and running stupid..." Nonetheless, he takes a position by a window with his shotgun, and waits for Carolyn's response. "Make up your minds. I'll stay or leave with you." He seemed to direct the comment more toward Convict, but momentarily glanced back to Box again as he said it.

Carolyn was strangely silent, perhaps overwhelmed with the number of communications she was getting all at once. It seemed the squad would have to decide for themselves what to do, whether that was to do as Jenive or Morai suggested, or something else entirely.

Both Dimas and Peter would flinch and grasp at their heads, momentary dizziness seeming to overcome them, but there is no discernible reason as to why.

 

[Thymine]

Dennis finished listening to com chatter. His stomach began to knot. This mission was sour from the beginning and he knew it. Should have listened to his gut. There was shit all to do now for it though, as far as his reckoning there was two options. Retreat back to Bunker Chicago, or collect that bounty. Only thing worth his time right now is getting Bosho's head, TC sure as hell ain't gonna pay Dennis or anyone else for their 'efforts' if they go running back like a stuck pig. Or, at the very least Dennis might get some cash for any intel they find. Dennis sighed. This fuckin' fog.

Glancing around the deserted building to ensure the position wasn't compromised, Dennis walked over to Bob and the tiny woman who he believed was named Kiku. Loudly Dennis cleared his throat, "You two ever hunt boar? You git 'em tight and scared as they march through the trees. Markin' where they went real good. Once you git em walked in a straight line you get your buds with their guns to hide in the bush a bit behind 'em, then you have one guy get ahead of em and to spook them. If you git a boar in a corner it's crazy and unpredictable, ya gonna get gored. But you leave it the option to run and she will every time. Right along that path. That's when your buds gun 'em down." Dennis stared coldly at the two of them. "You startin' to feel like a boar?" Dennis paused briefly to snort some mucus out of his nostrils into his mask. "We don't got much choice here. Runnin' right now is suicide. I say we either go forward or stay here. Sure as flies on shit whatever is ahead of us will come this way, with the rest of 'em men runnin' they probably not be expectin' us. Might be able to slip past. Make it to Bosho you hear? I don't know if you two fancy checkin' out the two squads ahead, that's your call I'll stay or go with regardless, as long we don't go runnin' with those walkin' targets. I have enough bullets and food to last for a lil' bit either way."

Wrex's scent isn't too keen with a mask on but it'll be good enough to make her way to Dennis or the base of the building and find somewhere to hide. Dennis couldn't help but be thankful for that open connection in Wrex's mask. Quickly he turned on his communicator and let a loud and low, "Sooie" rip through the channel. Dennis tried to comfort himself, she is smart, big, and can navigate this sty of a city probably better than anyone. That and they weren't too far from each other. Wrex will find him, it's just a matter of time.

 

[Kadaeux]

Phelan felt his blood run cold as the message filtered in from Carolyn's tank. And there was that dumb twit Jenvive acting like Arrowhead hadn't been wiped out. He hadn't moved far from the tanks when they had arrived, he had wanted to see how the situation developed.

To see where he'd be needed. The fog grated on his nerves and his mind was conjuring up all sorts of scenarios in his head, each worse than the last. He keyed his comm. "Be quiet you little twit. Whatever it is has wiped out arrowhead, or far worse, and we're being left to die. Arrowhead has ALREADY been wiped out, or worse, and whatever it is, we're being abandoned to it. So if you want to stay and die for the power of positive thought, go ahead, die like all the other idealists just do us all a favour and shut up so the gullible don't die alongside you." He snarled into the comms.

He held up his rifle watching through the scope, checking the ground, the ruins around him, and the skies, he always saw the truth through a sniper scope.

"I suggest we pull a fighting retreat out beyond the fog, immediately, then we can re-evaluate and try to fact-gather. But every minute we're in this unnatural soup is a minute closer to death. Got it?" He was in no mood for playing and mincing words.

 

[Grothnor]

Ozzy hurried to move into position in the western building as the radio started buzzing about Arrowhead's collapse. "Whatever they're bringing up first has to be fast and light. We fight them off long enough to give the retreating elements time to get out, then I recommend we pull out too before Bosho brings up whatever he broke Arrowhead with." His military expertise had come from studying military texts with the data archival AI. He hoped his commanders had the sense to listen, but didn't care much either way; here he was in a glorious rearguard action. This would be his chance, surely. He took position in a second floor window, looking north and readying his laser rifle with the practiced ease and calm of a hunter. And now we wait until it is time to play the Most Dangerous Game.

 

[Pahn]

Sitting Ducks?
Collab post featuring @Brovo - @Red Velvet - @RedWillow ​

Box gripped her dagger with sweaty palms as the communication regarding Arrowhead passed across her communicator. She didn't know Mouse very much, but she trusted what he said. Maybe that was foolish - but it was better than being blinded by every side and faction. She hated secrets. Once Morai and the crazy lady Convict had joined up with her, she was relieved that she was not alone. She almost reached up to wipe the sweat off her forehead, then remembered about the gas mask. It took a lot of will not to remove it.

She somewhat agreed with Jenive. She did not want to leave behind comrades, even if she didn't know their situation. Shaking her head, Box groaned and turned around to punch a nearby wall, punching right through the rotted wood and hitting against a metal rod. This is not how this was supposed to go, and she was letting her frustration seep through.

"What now. are you expecting us to abandon everyone? All those who sacrificed to take down Bosho?" she stared intensely at Morai, who in turn seemed to rely more on Convict's reaction than her own.

"Quiet ya fuckin' idiot," Convict spat at Box underneath her breath and turned to Morai "This place is a death trap, ye can say what ya want about sacrifice pretty boy. Honour doesn't do ya shit as a dead man."

Box gritted her teeth, her temper slowly getting the best of her. "This is not about honour, this is about the life of our comrades. Death is everywhere - even if we stay or leave, what tells you that we will make it through? How does it make us better than them?"

"I ain't got time fucking around with philosophy shithead," Convict whispered, her eyes shifting toward Morai "I dunno about you mate but I'm out. I wanna live."

Morai glances between them with a somewhat irritated furrowing of his eyebrows, before shaking his head and looking back out the window he was positioned by. "If we leave, we have a chance. If we stay, we die. It is better to pull out, survive, and regroup, and gain information on our enemy. Besides that, if they took out fifty men and put the two squads ahead of us on retreat in the mere span of a couple minutes, what are we really to contribute with a dozen men--half of whom are poorly trained, overglorified peasants with sticks--and three tanks? The helicopter isn't even in the air, captain fucktard thinks he belongs on the ground with everyone else... Shǎguā (damn fool.)"


Convict returned the same irritated look to Morai, he was stating the obvious "Make a speech about your anger latah, we're moving." She looked to the pretty boy one last time "You finally understandin' the obvious?"

Box swore under her breath, despising the choice left before her. Leave and hope to survive through this, or go head in hopes of finding injured soldiers - or death. The woman before her was rude and obviously selfish in her desire to survive and let everyone else die... But what did she know? Box turned her back to her and Morai, her hand gripping her dagger becoming painful as her knuckles turned pale. "Is this the choice you are leaving me with? I... " Box sighed and lifted her arms in defeat. "Fuck this mission. Fuck you two. Let's get out of here."


The hint of a smile lit up Convicts damaged features "Good boy, love it when ya talk dirty," she replied sarcastically to Box and began moving to another position of cover, "Don't die."

Morai taps his wrist communicator, and speaks clearly over the radio channel. Though his accent was thick, the static present in the channel didn't stop him from being heard. "We are leaving now. Staying here is foolish. Your West flank will be exposed. This is the only kind warning I am giving. Take it, or do not." He ends the communication and lifts himself away from his cover, stepping backward and motioning to Box and Convict to move out with him. "I will take the lead. One of us should watch our backs while we leave, in case someone decides to shoot at us while we move."

"I'm willing to bet I can take a bullet better than lanky over here. I'll go to the back," Convict chimed in and waited for Box to head in front of her.

Box rolled her eyes at the comment. "You really are a little fucker." She walks past Convict, nervously touching her gas mask to make sure it was still in place. "Do you think those in the East building heard this? There's a lot of white noise on the channel..." Box thought of Bob, and all the other ducklings who had followed him into the wreckage of a mansion. She wasn't expecting an answer from them - both Morai and Convict seemed pretty adamant in their decision to leave immediately.

The tall woman shrugged her backpack back into place and headed out behind Morai.

"Zhǐyǒu shǎguā jìsuàn tā de yáng. (Only a fool counts his sheep.)" Morai then glances back to Box, and shakes his head. "They heard or did not. They live or will not. We do not need to know now. We can learn, later. Survive, now, then learn later, child."

"Say what you need to. Less talking, focus," Convict added, her eyes scanning around her and occasionally looking over her shoulder for the danger, that in her gut she knew was getting closer.

Kicking a rock on the ground, Box mumbled loud enough for the two to hear, "You fuckers are the wolves in the chicken pen."

 

[Snakey]

With substantial effort Peter managed to force the voices from his mind, leaving only the faintest echoes of madness. The news of Arrowhead's destruction and the apparently immediate desolation of their forces was already distressing enough to the man, but the mental assault he endured shattered his faith in the mission. Tactical chatter filled the comms, probably important to the survival of the squad or something, but at that very moment Peter was was concerned with other things. With a shaking hand he turned on his communicator, "Alright boys and girls," he started, barely containing himself, "I know you're all prepared to hold out and try to hold off against... whatever is coming, but take it from your local listener: This ain't gonna pan out. I'm talking heavy shit, mutants of power I'm having trouble even comprehending exist at all. You think you're hot shit, but it don't mean nothing if you lose your mind. I say we practice the better part of valor and high tail it out of here." Long winded, but it was certainly better than saying nothing.

The pawner looked behind himself and briefly considered making a run on his own, though the rational part of his brain managed to nip that idea in the bud as quickly as it bloomed. He turned his thoughts instead to what was relatively rational: Hiding like a coward. Between the two buildings of choice he decided on the Eastern one, if only because it seemed it offered a bit more cover. He ran over, holding his hat as to not have it be blown off and hunkered down among those already gathered. Some of the more motley of the squad, a perfect fit for the denim-clad psychic. He flipped an old table, hoping to find some solid protection between it and the manor's dilapidated walls. It was then he caught wind of what the others were discussing, as strange as the three were they did make a compelling argument. Not like he needed one to begin with. "Head up!" he yelped, "I don't want to die either!"

 

[Jorick]

Bob and Kiku
A collab with @LimeyPanda
​

Bob listened to all the radio communication with a sinking feeling in his gut. He'd already been uncomfortable with this place, with the fog and not even plant life left, but that was nothing compared to hearing that their lead units were decimated. Then his stomach sank even further hearing everyone clamor to abandon the mission. Routs were never fun, and he'd been through plenty to be alive to know it.

After listening to the latest person call for retreat, Bob sighed and looked to the pair who'd followed him. Dennis, the fellow with the pig, had been one of the only people to argue for going forward. Kiku hadn't said anything yet, so he focused on her. "Well, we heard his call to go forward," he jerked his thumb toward Dennis to clarify, "and we heard everyone else basically shitting their pants at the idea. How about you, sneaky? Feeling brave, or wishing you'd worn brown pants?"

Kiku had heard all of the radio chatter, and she'd even understood most of it. From what she could understand, there was an unknown enemy, with unknown strength, and unknown capabilities who had managed to basically annihilate Arrowhead without much of a trouble. She might be a creature with an agenda, but she was also a creature with a survival instinct. Fighting was all well-and-good, but dying was pointless and meant she'd never get to use Bosho's skull as a knife-block.

She looked to Dennis who talked about hunting boars, and then to Bob who asked about her opinion. She wasn't really much for the whole 'team-planning' thing. In truth, she kinda didn't like the idea of weighing in her own opinion, because it'd probably be a selfish one. She sort of saddled up and stood up straight, offering a meagre Five-and-a-half feet of thin, spindly woman. "Well…" She said, in a clear mimicking of Dennis' strong accent. "…I reckon that we're here to kill Bosho, and that involves not bein' dead." She snorted, again; likely in a mimicry of Dennis, before she seemed to pause and realise that there wasn't anywhere to spit out the little ball of phlegm. She grimaced at the realisation that him spitting had been inside his helmet, as she begrudgingly swallowed the spit-wad. "So I reckon we should make sure we're all defensive-like. Hole up and make sure we can see what's goin' on."

After a moment, she sort of started to laugh at herself, and at the ridiculousness of how she sounded with Dennis' accent. It was like a high-pitched mockery of a Texan, as seen in the mind of a child. She started to speak with her normal accent instead, after a couple moments of composing herself. "But seriously, as much as I'd love to go ahead and peel Bosho's face like a potato, I'd rather live and stuff. We probably survive best either retreating or fortifying up. Carolyn's got practice with this whole 'being a boss' idea, so I say we oil up, bite the pillow, and give 'em all we got; boss."

There was really nothing to be said about the woman's impersonation of Dennis, aside from maybe a compliment for getting the tone just right. He'd seen plenty turn to humor to hold off thinking about death breathing down their neck. Kiku was just one more in a long line, and the funny types had a knack for living to laugh another day. He'd heard a saying once, 'heavy heart, slow mind,' and he figured the opposite might just be true enough to make sense of all the jokers who lived past their prime. That or everyone ended up snapping so hard they couldn't take death seriously after a while. One or the other, it made no real difference in the end.

"Well, colorful way of putting it, but you sound like someone who wants to survive. I can sympathize, seeing as that's always my goal. It's why I ended up with gray in my beard instead of bullets in my brain. Sounds like staying put isn't gonna be a smart option though. The crew who went into the building on the other side of the road said they were pulling out, so we're exposed there. Others are gonna break and run once they see those three walking away. Might be left with a handful of us, but against something that took out the squads ahead of us?" Bob shook his head, grimacing behind his face mask and wishing he could smoke a cigar through the damned thing. "Sounds to me like a good way to end up dead. I don't mind holding back a bit to see if some of the folks from other squads get back to us, maybe help them get to safety, but the smart call on living is to get the fuck out now before we catch sight of whatever is out there in that fog. You willing to stay and try to fight even if it's just you, pig man over there, and a handful of others?"

Kiku shook her masked head in response to the grey-bearded man. "Naw. I don't give much of a damn about the other squads. I'm just listening to Carolyn, and the idea didn't sound too silly. Maria's advice 'n' all." She said, shrugging as she took a moment to look over to the window. She wondered what the hell was going on, and how Bosho had managed to sneak himself a new set of playtoys. It was almost unfair. But hell, when had life ever been fair? Even less so when it came to Bosho.

Looking over at Dennis and his pig, Kiku found herself grimmacing a little...Not even on her worst day, or his best. "No, I think I'll follow your lead for now boss. You seem most likely to get us out of here without getting shot. I'm a big fan of the not-getting-shot plan."

Bob nodded and reached for his radio. Before turning it on, he paused and looked to Kiku. "If you're following my lead, then I can tell Carolyn it's my own call that we're gonna pull back too. There might be some blowback from this one if the higher ups get to feeling pissy about the failed operation, so no reason to give 'em more targets who did nothing wrong but wanting to live another day. You okay with the cover, or do you feel like throwing your neck on the chopping block too? Ain't right for me to make that decision for you."

"Aww, you don't need to worry about me boss. I couldn't give two fucks what the suits think of me." She said, a wry smile and a little laugh on her lips as she kept glancing out of the window, looking at the people still in sight. Her eyes helped her pick out details in much greater acuity than most, and she always found things to fascinate her. "Until Carolyn gives the order though, I ain't budging. She's the ViP and all that jazz. Wouldn't want her cute little butt being toast because everyone's left her on her lonesome." She took a position at the window that gave her maximized view of the direction Arrowhead were coming from, while offering at least semi-decent protection. Her gun was trained on the mist, as she started to fire up her eye-mutation; trying to peer deeper into the mist than others could, and maybe spot any incomings.

"Fair enough. I don't like leaving folks behind either." Bob gave Kiku a nod and flipped the little mute switch on his radio into the off position. "Well Carolyn, looks like we have no good choices left. Damn near everyone wants out, me included, and some are pulling back already. If we tried to stand and fight we wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. Maybe stick around a couple minutes to help others fleeing whatever took out Arrowhead, but we sure can't deal with whatever did that nasty job. I think your best call here is to pull back and regroup to kick Bosho's teeth in another day." He looked back to Kiku as he flipped the radio off. "If she's got a working head on her shoulders that'll be enough to make her sound the retreat. See anything coming yet?"

"Nothing yet. I'll keep my eyes open while everyone figures out what's going on." She said, eyes never leaving the fog. She was concentrating on trying to give the group as early a warning as they could get. If she spotted anything she would immediately point it out to Bob, and let him get to the radio-duty.

"Good idea." Bob went over his gun once more, finding everything as expected, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He turned his attention to the east side of the building, the flank they'd been sent to guard, and left the north for Kiku and anyone else who had the presence of mind to wait for orders and watch rather than flee immediately.

 

[HerziQuerzi]

Collab featuring @Holmishire​

"Like hell am I retreating," Hewitt grumbled, then clicked his comm active. "There's no time for us to move forward—we need to hold this passage 'til the others get back. The lives of fifty men is no laughing matter, Morai." He turned to Shlan. "Figure you could help me with those turrets?"

Shlan grimaced. "Yeah, I'll help. No point in trying to talk you into retreating." Hopping off the tank, she double checked her gear before moving towards the turrets. "Timberman, a nice poster-boy soldier," she gave a wry chuckle, "Never would've guessed a few years ago, eh?"

"It's got its perks. Once we're of rid of these damned raiders, wages'll be 'bout the same, but the job gets a lot easier." Hewitt holstered his weapon as he reached the western turret. "You should be grateful I dragged you out here. Wouldn't have lasted a day without me back with the mercs." With a grunt, he braced himself against the metal. "Not that I'd be much better out here 'thout you, mind," he mumbled.

"I've been doing just fine on my own with smaller jobs," she retorted as she set her shoulder against the turret. "I agree you wouldn't last a day on without me covering your ass, though. On three?"

At the end of the count, the two heaved the first turret into position according to Tristan's specifications. Hewitt pushed himself off the metal, stumbled in the direction of the other turret, and then quickly regained his balance. "You can't retire on 'smaller jobs'," he said. "We need to move the other turret quick—they could be on us at any moment."

"Don't remind me," she said, hurrying after Hewitt.

The two made quick work of the second turret—between them, they covered a one-seventy degree spread across the northern front. At that point, Hewitt caught sight of Box's group leaving their posts. "Damnit," he muttered, leaning against the turret and panting mildly. He turned to Shlan. "Are you still up for this? It looks like the western building's in need of relief."

"Shit," Shlan cursed before turning on her comm. "Someone help Ozymandias hold down our west. Me and Hewitt got the turrets."

 

[Tyrannosaurus Rekt]

Gabriel and Aleksa
w/ @Rain of the Night
​

"Punch holes in tanks," more-or-less read "a bullet through a head" to Aleksa. The hole may or may not kill her. If it didn't, it would cause irreparable damage to her vehicle that would possibly kill her in the short term or kill her and those around her in the long term. Of course, she had protocols for these things, but fate and chance were cruel mistresses that liked to tweak with these things. And currently, fate and chance were showing their asses like a couple of teenage boys.

It was then that the stream of text came across her system. TC was asking for a full evacuation. The situation had escalated more than Aleksa thought possible. Still, she held her position. There was no point in pulling away. Sure, she could get some distance from the ruins in no time, but she'd also be abandoning a lot of the infantry. This would be their quickest escape route. They could pile on the tank and she could roll them out faster than they could run. Sure, it didn't have much in the way of cover, and the instrument that Bosho's gang had to punch a hole in tanks was frightening. Still, Aleksa wasn't the sort to value her own skin over others. Yet, she hoped that they'd hurry the fuck up. She didn't want to try to fight the tank-disabling power.

She still kept an eye on the two groups with her drones. She didn't know how much gunfire of one would help. This was more survelliance. If needed pump some switches and gears beforehand, she could. "I hope we know what we're doing," Aleksa said, sighing.

The drones around her own tank did a quick perimeter sweep and then pulled back to the tank. In all of that, she caught a visual of the helicopter pilot. "Things might get hairy before you can get to your copter again and if you want some good cover heading back—I'll be more than happy to protect you."

"Yeah, give me a second. I'll jump in the tank, Aleska."Fixing the turret hadn't been that hard of a task for Gabriel to do; but it seems he hadn't got any help to actually spin the thing around. Well, he had asked for the help, but he received none… So he would at least leave the turret be active and controlled from a distance, so it doesn't shoot his allies. He had begun putting away his tools when the loud static started. Incomprehensible gibberish… Right up until Carolyn cleared up what was happening. Ambushed? Did this means… They knew they were coming? This is bad… Though, thank god, people were there to turn the turrets…

Furthermore; there came a message on their wrist communicators; a clear message to get the fuck out of there. The variables started stacking up already. Unknown weaponry, strong listeners and so much more. No to mention, Gabriel was kind of a sitting duck at this point; he couldn't be do anything with his helicopter; was restricted on his vision, ATS wouldn't even work here. There was no way he'd be staying here. Others expressed their opinions, and truly, Gabriel was one to think they needed to back out. Too many unknowns, no vision, no info. "I wouldn't stay here guys, shits about to go down."

Aleska came into the communications, after all the squabbling. "I'd appreciate some cover." After everything was collected, he made his way towards Aleska's tank, making sure he doesn't actually GET ON it, given he knows he won't be able to properly pilot his helicopter after a short ride on a tank. "This is Gabriel, advising to back out. Our sensors are bugged, our radars also, we have no vision, no knowledge of the surrounding areas, no information on the enemy and their equipment… And the fact that they set up an ambush means they must have known our approach… And it's probably why this fucking fog is here. There's no point in waiting for the other squads if we can't even identify anyone until they are within twenty feet of us. They probably have a way to see through this, and we don't." He made it to the tanks side. "I'm right beside you, Aleska."

"I second Gabriel's opinion, and I'm reading the tank to go at full speed to get out of here. I can even lay down some suppression fire." Hell, she could even fire off her siege cannon a couple of times if they got a good look at what Bosho was packing. Still, she'd rather not look at it, even she was usually the adventurous sort that liked to leave the lights on during encounters.

Aleksa pulled the base plates up. They weren't close to where Gabriel was standing, fortunately. The gears ground and the two massive plates were secure on the sides of the tank. "Alright. I'm prepped and ready. As soon as we get the word, I'll get you back to your copter, Gabriel." From the looks of it, Bunker Chicago had lost a lot of good men today, and Aleksa wanted to avoid losing even more.

 

[Persephone]

Florence had kept relatively quiet during the initial approach into the fog, even when the sinners around her began to squabble with each other, as they were wont to do. Her mind was singularly focused on the vengeance she would bring upon Bosho in the name of God. She was abruptly brought out of her silent reverie, however, when her communicator lit up with noise, followed by a rapid deterioration of the situation. It was chaos, with some of the sinners in the group wanting to break and run like cowards, while others wanted to stay in order to save those who might not be dead, with their so-called leader silent through it all. Despite the lack of proper intelligence, Florence knew one thing, and that was that she had not been brought back from the brink just to run away at the first sign of danger. She was an agent of God, and it was only through divine providence that she had been able to survive in the face of adversity. With this in mind, she pushed forward towards the western building, having heard the Schlan (or was it Shlan?) woman's call for someone else to assist Ozymandias in guarding that front.

Making her way into the western building, Florence quickly hunkered down in a position suitable as cover, checking to make sure that Hellfire was fully loaded and Brimstone's blade had been properly coated in the holy oils. Once she was confident that everything was in order, she turned on her comm to address Ozymandias. "Worry not, O King of Kings, for an agent of God is with you today. Keep watch over me, and I will try to do the same." With that having been said, she turned to face the north, to wait for the inevitable attack.

 

[Absyinthe_Artica]

Dimas had followed Bob and the others onto the second floor quietly. His mind was fragmented with millions of hurtful whispers. His blinking visions were confirmed by the clamor over the radio. Dimas' heart sunk to his gut before a blinding dizziness swept over him and he doubled over.

After he gained consciousness he rubbed his temples wearily and turned his attention to the rest of the group. "If I can protect any of you vith my mutations, I vill stay. " He told them firmly, his accent curving his words. Dimas was no coward, he came here to take down this raider leader and so he would try. His squad mates were his to protect as well, in his mind. Their lives mattered to him and if he could help in any way, he would do so.

Dimas eyed the fog outside of the gap in the wall and sighed. This was not a good situation, and he wasn't certain even if his mutations were powerful enough to withstand whatever these raiders had on their side. In all honesty, Dimas never liked confrontation, but he recalled a vague promise of money for this job and couldn't turn it down. The mutant bit his lip inside the gas mask and sighed. "Vhatever is out there, it is poverful, and eager to kill." he muttered darkly. Dimas wanted to live his life and not see it wasted by a bullet or mutant power, he trusted that his comrades would be able to get them out of this situation without someone dying, but he could only truly hope.

 

[Maxim]

...to Hell!

Ah...zis is bad. was Tristan's first thought at just how badly this mission had already gone. None of them were even close to Bosho's Fortress, and already things have taken a dire turn for the worst. He sat there in silence for about a minute, trying to figure out a way, any way, that would allow them to fulfill the mission objectives. Sadly, after some time of constant thought, Tristan abandoned the idea. The fact was that without Arrowhead, the mission was a wash, and there was no non-suicidal way to change that. At this point, the only thing he could hope to do now was to keep Carolyn, and perhaps some members of Arrowhead, alive and well. His hope now was to get the data Carolyn's tank had back to headquarters to develop some sort of countermeasures against this new weapon Bosho had unleashed upon them. Arrowhead could perhaps give some useful intel on just what exactly attacked them. However, Tristan found himself alone when it came to the lives of Arrowhead, as the rest of the group was more than willing to abandon them to their fate, a fate Tristan was far less willing to accept.

Still, even he was not stupid enough to think he could save them without support. The question was how to convince people to stay for the fight and save Arrowhead's remnants. The scientist scratched his head, looking for some solution in his head, until he stumbled upon an idea. He opened communications with Carolyn and the rest of the squadron "Well...Carolyn, do you know Arrowhead's most recent coordinates? Way I see it, ah, I can send over some of my drones with cameras to that location and see if any survivors are left. My thoughts...there are three things that could happen. Either we find survivors and defend this spot until we rescue them, we find nothing but dead bodies, giving us a go ahead to get out of here, or the drones die in seconds, meaning our chances of survival are about equivalent to a chocolate fireman. Obviously at that point I'd suggest a full retreat." He waited a moment before continuing "Of course, this is only a suggestion. I'll follow your lead sir."

Then he closed his communications. This was pretty much his only shot at helping to save Arrowhead, if the rest of the group decided to split, or Carloyn gave the order to evacuate, he would have to go as well. He would be no help to anyone if he died. Still, he prepared his drones, ready to deploy them as soon as Carolyn gave the word to search for Arrowhead's remnants. At least, that was the order he was hoping for.

Action Summary

Tristan attempts to convince Carolyn to let him use his drones to locate any Arrowhead survivors. However, he chooses to follow Carolyn's lead, and will either deploy the drones or leave the area depending on her orders.

 

[Brovo]

"Une esti gang d'étrangers. (A fucking group of strangers)''
-Gabriel Desrochers, Page 1.​

The Road of Caution​

A few moments of silence fall in the group as Carolyn can be heard audibly sighing into the radio. "We will pull back. Now. We can't help anyone in these garbage visual conditions, and I won't force half of you to fight here when it's clear that we know nothing. The tanks will move in reverse so as to allow our frontal armour to take the brunt of any projectiles. Infantry, cover each flank. These are going contrary to my orders. I will take full responsibility later." As the tank's engine hums to life, Jenive's voice cracks out onto the radio. "You're not seriously saying we leave everyone out there to die?!" Carolyn replies back, bluntly. "I'm not suggesting it: I'm ordering it. We can't help them when our main asset of range has been cut to twenty feet of useful sight. We're moving, get in line--I've lost enough to desertion as is." There was no further reply from Jenive, who, presumably, was infuriated with the decision.

As Carolyn gets her tank ready to move out, Jenive once again breaks out onto the communication line, though her voice was a little frantic this time. "HEY! Someone's coming out, I recognize the equipment! It's one of ours!" One soldier bursts out from the front of the fog. He wore kevlar head to toe, and as he looked around the group, it was evident he had seen combat: There was a couple blood smears on his chest plate, and his knee pads looked broken, yet his legs appeared fine. A close call, perhaps. The gas mask was planted firmly on his face as he looks around at the group. He didn't have their radio frequency, so he waved and then motioned for them to leave, frantically, before falling onto his knees and grasping his side. He was just beyond the buildings and the turrets, only fifteen feet, but it was out into no man's land. Too far out to yell to and hope he could hear with all the noise and equipment they were wearing: The gas masks would muffle it.

"A couple of the infantry need to get out to him and help him up. Move quickly to my tank. He might know something the rest of us don't." Jenive hops off the eastern rooftop and uses her jet pack to slow her fall just enough to land beside him. "You don't have to tell me twice! I don't abandon the helpless, not like that fucking foreigner, wherever he is!"

The Meat Ticket​

Morai, Box, Convict, and Peter, had managed to make good pace away from the group. They were only about ten to fifteen minutes ahead, but even that much in such a situation was huge given that they were all reasonably fit and had all the motivation in the world to move out as fast as possible. They also had the advantage of being able to skip through buildings or alleys, whereas the group behind them could not, and had to take main roads. Though, Morai kept them as close to the main road as possible, as that was the only landmark they had to getting out.

Morai notices movement, and with his expertise and the cover of the fog as well as the sounds of not-too-distant gunfire, he was able to move his group up beside a convenience store. The sounds of distant gunfire die off, leaving only the sound of the breeze, and a conversation by people inside. Though their voices were muffled by masks, it was clear that they weren't with TC, or Bunker Chicago. They were with someone else. Morai motions for silence, as they listen in through a small hole in the convenience store's wall.

"You fucking sure this what'll get us our meal ticket?"
"Yes, you fucking idiot! We're just 'gon fuckin' wreck whatever fuckin' cunt comes this way, take the most important lookin' fuck, and ransom them in exchange for a vehicle and some food to get the fuck away from here!"
"What about Bosho?"
"Don't you fuckin' get it moron? Bosho's fuckin' dead! I saw it myself, shit for brains! I saw his skull get fucking caved in by that... Fucking thing."
"What was that thing?"
"I don't fuckin' know. Looked like somebody skullfucked a dog and a pigeon and added all the shit of my nightmares into the pot. All I know is we saw some folks go down this road, what was it... Two tanks? Three?"
"N' a heli."
"Yeah an' that too... Well, point is, Bosho's clever enough we got their radio shit, so we know they're coming back here. We got enough wired shit here to blow em' out. All the EMP in the world, baby. Gun down the rest with our pals in the building opposite this one with crossfire and go rip out whatever fucks are in their tanks. The ones inside the tin cans have gotta be worth something, right? They have fuckin' tanks!"
"What if they're worth nothin'?"
"Then we fuckin' get to do with em' as we please while we get out of this fog and steal us a vehicle from a convoy or something. Look, I don't fuckin' know, this is the best I got. It's the only way we're gonna live."

As the two continue to chatter, Morai takes a look around the corner of the convenience store. On the opposite side of the street was a four floor apartment complex, run down and weathered. He couldn't see whatever weapons or manpower the two were talking about, and indicated as such as he shook his head. He leads the group to the back door of the convenience store, where they had a more solid wall between them and the two inside, before speaking. "We do not have long to plan. It is one thing to leave them back there, but, to leave them to these remnants of Bosho dogs? There are some fate, worse than death. We should do something." He glances at Box's radio. "Do not even think about it. It would give us away instantly. We have one chance to strike them first... Do not waste it. Any plan?"

 

[Holmishire]

Hewitt Ziegler
@Holmishire.​

---

Hewitt ground his teeth in frustration at Carolyn's orders, but knew that at this point, there was nothing he could do about them. Without the support of the tanks, he'd be useless even if he did stay behind. The man glanced at Shlan, muttered "Cover me," and then rushed out from behind the turret.

It took only a momentary burst of his jetpack for him to reach Jenive and the injured soldier. "Glad someone here's still got a decent heart." Without asking permission, he crouched down and lifted the man off the ground, holding him over one shoulder in a fireman's carry. "Sorry, mate, we gotta go." The position freed up his left hand, and he took the opportunity to draw his shotgun again as he started jogging back towards the retreat.[/hr]

 

[Pahn]

Boom!
A collab post featuring @Brovo (Morai) | @Red Velvet (Convict) | @Snakey (Peter) | @RedWillow (Box)​

"Fuck."

Box gritted her teeth at Morai's words, understanding the logic behind them but disliking them. "We have to go back, we have to… to warn them, fuck!" She squats to calm herself, breathing deeply and trying to block the chatter she was still hearing from inside the store. The gentle pain in her calves caused by her position helps her ground back to reality. "We should dispose of the rats on the other side of this wall," her voice straight and cold again as she eyes up at Convict.

A frown passed over Convict's expression, without a word she closed her eyes for a moment, she was working herself up. "You guys are cute," she muttered, returning from her brief mantra with a look of blood, ready to kill.

"Cover my ass, this armour bullshit is slowing my ass down, but I can take a few shots," the brutish calm of her jaded voice whispered as she fastened her gun into the side of her trousers ready to shoot the fucks. "Lemme try something first, moment you hear a gunshot cover me." She waited for the others' response, it was a long shot but they were gonna have to trust her.

"Méiyǒu. (No.)" Morai grabs Convict's shoulder and glares. "Explain better." He glances over her flesh, and seems to have a moment of understanding flicker in his eyes. He looks at her, eye to eye. "... Never mind, go ahead, we will cover you." He then goes up beside the door. Whether he understood her previous associations or not was unclear, but he at least seemed to understand that her life was rough enough to have had dealings with people like these.

Box stands up again, her pistol in her right hand and a knife in her left. She almost has a moment's hesitation: "Should we question one of them? They sounded like they knew more..." She looks at her three companions, taking an interest in Peter for the first time. "You creep, can you hear what their minds are thinking?" She bites her lip at the casual insult, unsure where the sudden hypocrisy was coming from.

"No I can't read what they're thinking, I ain't in that sort of spooky mind violation shit. Their bodies though, those I can spookily violate," Peter pauses, thinking whether or not he should clarify himself. He ultimately decides against it and continued, "If you want them alive just get me in close and I can have 'em ripe for whatever terrible shit you gals want to do with them."

A murderous grin widened across Convict's clown-scarred features as she nodded to Morai and took a moment to listen to what Box and Weasel feet had to say "sit," she ordered in a patronising tone. Fed up the bloodthirsty killer gave a pissed of groan and boldly wandered around the corner, annoyed that she couldn't have a drink in this shithole.


"Have fun." Peter mumbles, "You crazy bitch."

Box eyes Convict again, holding back another nasty reply. They didn't have time for this nonsense! "Keep one alive, Peter will make him talk. Without answers of where the explosives are, or how many, it would be foolish to help the others. But hurry... I don't think we have much time, the others got the order to pull out. Fucking hell..." She goes up behind Convict, and closes her eyes as she listens to her surroundings, waiting for the agreed signal of the gunshot.

Morai steps in and grabs Box by the shoulder, pulling her back behind cover and violently shoving her up against a wall. His eyes were severe, though not entirely unsympathetic. "Méiyǒu. (No.)"

Box lets the shorter man push her, her lips curling. "As though I would be suicidal enough to follow this crazy bitch." She shrugs him off, moving out of the way regardless, and staying close to the wall.


As Convict turns the corner, she finds herself faced against not two, but four different targets. Three men, one woman. The woman and one of the men were armed: The woman with a rocket-propelled grenade weapon, and the man with a beaten-looking semi-automatic rifle. The other two, which looked to be the ones who were talking earlier, were unarmed with projectile weapons, though possessed some knives. She recognizes the tone of the one who speaks as the one who seemed to be orchestrating the operation, as he growls, reaching for his knife. "An' who the fuck are you, doll?"

The promise of murder filled Convict with delight as she stepped around the corner to see four smug ass shitheads all heavily armed with weapons. "One of Bosho's hound dogs, you know the group. The one that was planted to drag Bosho out of the dirt if you guys fucked up, looks like you're doing a fine job." she said, recognising the prick's voice. From what she recalled of the man he was a decent operations leader and a coward when his own life was at stake. Extending her arm toward them, Convict revealed the brand scarred across her tattooed covered hand, which for those who didn't know where to look was incredibly hard to see; these fuckers knew the drill.

"Look! She's got the mark!" The dimwitted sounding one remarks as the leader growls at him angrily. "Shut it, you! Don't fuckin' mean shit. You did a great job protectin' Bosho, oh yeah, great fuckin' job his concaved skull is doin'. Cunt."

Drawing closer, the grin on Convict's face widened. "I did my job on my end shithead, either you guys sucked a lot of cock and ran for your miserable fuckin' lives, or somebody fucked up on the way," she remarked and threw him her flask. Whiskey was hard to come by in these parts and she knew mercenary fucks when she saw them. "A token of peace. If those fucks can take down Bosho, you lot are next. More runts you got runnin' about, the more loot ya can grab," These lot where as slimey as it came, they'd even use her as a meat shield if they needed to.

"The fuck'd you just say?" The leader mutters out. He whistles and the rifleman turns and aims at Convict. "If you were fuckin' there, you'd have seen me shooting the ever lovin' fuck out of this fuckin'... Fuckin'... Thing. This, feathered, muscular, ebony skinned thing, that looked like it crawled out of the bowels of the Earth and clawed its way through a thousand men's nightmares. I didn't see you there, when Bosho stuck it in with a knife and all it did was gurgle out some sort of laugh as it crushed his head like a fuckin' wad of paper. You weren't fuckin' there. You'd be dead if you were. Don't fuckin' play me for a fool, your lips were obviously better on Bosho's dick than anythin' else, cuz' you were fuckin' useless."

He continues to glare at her for a moment, before whistling again. The rifleman pulls out a small pistol from his pants and throws it over to Convict. "You better fuckin' blow better than the bitches we stole from the last convoy we took or I'll blow your fuckin' brains on the wall after this."

Dropping to one knee Convict inspected the gun for a moment. "Sure. I'll blow, where ya want me?" she shrugged with a horrid laugh as she tossed the gun back to the leader's feet and stood up. "You lived, I admire you for that. Told ya, I have no shit to fry with my own, we're not gonna fuck the TC up by killing each other."

"In my tank. That I'm gonna take." He grins back, eyeing her over and shrugging. "Little fucked up there but I'm sure there's something salvageable... As for TC, I don't give a fuck. They can have this little shithole. I'm not gonna be here when they all fuckin' bite it... I'd have sold my soul to em' already n' fuckin' bolted with the gang if it weren't the fact that snitchers fuckin' vanish. Goin' to different colonies... I ain't fuckin' buyin' it. This is my only meal ticket out, you see. So I'm fuckin' buyin' it. Fuck this shit. Fuck Bosho. Fuck em' all, I'll go take my gang'n find some nice place somewhere far the fuck away from here... I'm sure some small town'll fork over safety money... N' safety ass, assuming yours don't fuckin' work."

"Well you wouldn't want to spoil me too much more before ya done now would ya? Ya can't expect any bitch to give ya a blowie without a jaw, put the guns down sweetheart," playing coy, Convict indulged the ugly ass mother fucker. "Count me in if you're starting a new gang, fuck being alone in this place."

He scoffs, then looks to his dimwitted friend. "You fuckin' believe the nerve on this chick? No wonder Bosho kept her for his dick, hey?" The dimwit laughs at the leader's joke, only to get struck across the back of the head. "Shut it, I didn't fuckin' give you permission to laugh." He then glances at the rifleman and nods. He lowers his rifle, and looks between them. "Alright you fuckin' slut. Get ready by the wall, won't fuckin' take but another minute and we'll be setting off our EMP traps on the fuckers fleein' this way. Then, we get ourselves a tank. Then, you show me gratitude for letting you live." He grins as he licks his knife, an excited if somewhat nervous look in his eyes. It seemed he was exaggerating his callousness simply to keep the others in line, and the longer Convict saw it, the more apparent it became.

With a shrug she wandered closer toward them, as a ganger that wasn't such a bad deal. Remaining docile for the time being, Convict waited for the opportune moment to strike. She could sense that the leader was too busy to notice her and reluctant to let them see her gun, Convict placed herself next to the female thug and took care to assure the woman was between her and the others. With not a moment to loose Convict hands grabbed the woman and took a shot to her jugular. Just like the others the bitch probably had too much of an ego to give a shit about her and the body would help lessen some of the damage.

The woman holding the RPG, indeed, seemed intently focused on peeking out a broken window, down the road toward the approaching convoy. She seemed rather twitchy until the bullet races its way through her neck and out the other end. As Convict grabs her, the last act of the once wiry woman is to pull the trigger... With her RPG pointing at a wall not even a foot away from her feet.

Convict is sent flying backward with the shrapnel-ridden corpse, hitting a wall and sliding down it. The feet-less corpse will have likely protected her from the blasts of firearms if not for the utter, abject shock that the other gangbangers were in at seeing the scene unfold before their eyes. "The... Fuck?!" The dimwit states as the Leader is the only one smart enough to dive away from trouble and start running across the road, screaming out orders to those on the other side.

Peter tries to cover his ears in vain as an explosion rocks the adjacent room, "What in the fucking fuck fuck!?!" he exclaims, scrambling to his feet as he reaffirms his grip in his revolver, "I guess that's our fuckin' cue, if any..." He quickly shoves open the door, revealing the grisly scene within. Of course he doesn't spare the time to get a good around as he is too busy emptying his revolver into the apparently stunned mooks.

Box hears the explosion so loudly, despite the cotton swabs in her ears, it takes her a bit longer to recover. Once she sees Peter go through the door before her or Morai, her heart sinks. As Box went through the door, she notices the runner - he was yelling orders around to invisible allies. She looks back at Morai with wide eyes, "Go after the bastard runner, before they set off all the shit and we're ground meat!" She pushes Peter out of the way and heads to recover Convict, buried under a shrapnel-covered body.


Morai slips inside and dashes to the other side as Peter rapidly executes the gangbangers with ease. "Gāisǐ de shǎguā. (Damn fool.)" He mutters as he reaches the doorway and kneels down, firing quickly at the leader. The leader gets hit in the leg and falls down, but the distance was already too far for an effective shotgun blast, as he notices a large gun with a rotating barrel poke out one of the windows. His face pales as he dives out of the way behind the wall, as several bullets of a significant sized calibre rip through the doorway and rapidly damage the wall around it. "Gèng dà de yú. (Bigger Fish.)" He glances back to the group and motions for them to get down and stay down. "They won't waste their limited ammo trying to chew through the walls! Stay out of sight."

Convict could feel her head spinning as she regained conscious thought, only briefly disorientated by the sheer weight of the gun blast and as if on fucking cue Box then appeared in front of her, removing the cover she'd made for herself. Agitated, Convict helped lift the stinking pile of shit from her body and pushed passed the pretty boy to grab the RPG. Looking around she could see that Morai was backed into a corner and heard his comment about staying low. Against the idea Convict knew they could be sitting ducks for long and joined Morai while taking a moment to inspect the gun. "I ain't a good shot but I get the idea. Got a smoke bomb on me, what we looking at?"

With the immediate threat dispatched, Peter takes a fleeting moment to gain his bearings on the situation, only to hear Morai's call to get down, a command which he follows without hesitation, finding himself an old refrigerator to cower behind. "So anyone got a grand plan for that gu-" He cuts himself short, seeing the crazy bitch toting an RPG, "Alright that works." With a flick of his wrist the revolver opens, dispensing its spent ammunition. "If you can knock enough guys on that turret I can spook a few into submission, this should hopefully be good enough for us to get across." The pawner says as he hurriedly reloads his revolver.

"Sound like a plan." Morai states as he reaches into a side pouch, pulling out a small container. Inside it were syringes, safely stored. "Will need a minute. Then, I will be ready." He glances at the rest of the group. "Trust me. Stay by windows."

Box drops on all fours, and crawls away from the center of the room. As Morai takes out the container, Box's eyes widen in slight surprise. She knows those syringes, or at least, which military department they were from. She couldn't see his face through his mask, but she could imagine him looking tired, if he needed his fix now.

Once she is against a wall, she leans on it and clutches her wrist. "We need to warn them. We must prevent them from falling in this trap, please," Box whispered, not sure everyone hears her. Closing her eyes, she presses on her comlink, and whispers once more: "Box in, the wolf is in the pen. I repeat, the wolf is in the pen. Box out."

 

[Firemind]

Kiku


Kiku listened to the traded radio chatter between Carolyn and Jenive with a hum and a smile. Truth be told, she didn't much care about how this little stroll ended. There was always the ultimate goal of seeing Bosho's head mounted on a wall, but that goal didn't mean shit if she didn't see it through to the day after. Living took precedent over sweet, sweet revenge. She found herself curious about the Jenive woman. The girl was spirited, to say the least. She was standing up for her cause, even though it was all but lost. When Carolyn pulled the rank card, Kiku shrugged and stood up; ready to move out.

That was, until the second call out came. The shout out for a man in the smoke who was wearing their equipment had Kiku swivel around and lay eyes on the man. With visibility being so shit, Kiku was worried about just what surprises might be lurking behind him, and so she focused in on the little sensation that always had to be tickled to activate her secondary mutation. She tried to find that familiar activator, and felt her range of vision extend and the colours and tones shift into different blues, reds, and whites. She was seeing the world in a different way, picking up thermals now, as opposed to just simply what her eyes could make out.

At first, she didn't see anything beyond what she expected. She saw the heat of the man, glowing red and orange against the pale blues of the real world, but then she saw something…more. It was hard to make it out in the distance of the fog, a strange blob of heat behind the man that seemed to wear the fog like a cloak, disguising itself from Kiku's vision. She swore as she turned on her radio. "There's something behind the mystery man. I can't tell what, it's too deep in the fog. Whoever goes down there, be on your tippy-toes. I'mma join you down there as quick as I can, but don't look for me. I'll be the invisible chick, ready to pop the nasty" Kiku put her radio away as she looked back at Bob and the Pig-man, and offered a toothy smile to them both. "If anything nasty comes out of the smoke, make sure to shoot it lots for me. I don't want to be doing the dead thing anytime soon."

With that Kiku set out, weaving her way back through the building and retracing her steps as quickly as she could. When she got outside, Kiku would start to focus on her other mutation once again, and she'd give herself a couple seconds to turn on her Chameleon-like powers. When she was satisfied that she and her equipment were invisible to the naked eye, she started to edge along the building, gun raised and pointed towards the man in the fog. She was ready for something to ambush Jenive, or whoever else decided to help the mystery man, and she was ready to shoot the crap out of anything that wasn't wearing Good-guy colours.

Tl;dr

Kiku checked the man in the mist with her Mutation, and saw something nondescript in the mist. She's now moving to flank the potential threat and help Jenive/Other retrieval members.

 

[Jorick]

All through the hectic chatter that came through on the radio after he'd made his suggestion to Carolyn, Bob remained relaxed and alert. As expected, folks seemed to be running around like chickens with their heads cut off. He hoped that whoever had the bright idea to open up this mission to civilians would catch their share of flak for everything going to shit. Sure, if something had been able to wipe out the lead teams of actually trained soldiers then having more of the same here wouldn't have helped salvage this mess, but at least there would be less frantic yapping. Bob briefly wished he could get away with shooting a few of them, but guilt and shame pushed the thought away quickly.

Finally, after what seemed an agonizingly long time but which was certainly no more than a minute or two, Carolyn gave the call to pull back. That tipped the scales on his mental judgement of her a little further toward the useful and competent side and away from the upjumped fool side. Her declaration that she'd take responsibility for going against orders tipped it even further. Bob had himself a good chuckle as she ordered the abandonment of those they could not help, then immediately turned round on it and ordered aid for the one they could help. He was starting to like having her as a commander. It had been a while since he'd followed someone who was a strict pragmatist, and those were always his favorites. That Jenive girl, TC bootlicker though she was, had a good heart too. Least she wasn't a deserting cunt like that Morai fellow, the one who Bob had thought was going to end up being the most useful of the lot on this mission.

All in all, Bob was in a pretty good mood as he started for the door, pleased to be getting out of this mess and amused by his own mental commentary. That good humor withered pretty quick though, just as soon as Kiku mentioned spotted something hiding in the fog. He nodded in response to her request. "Yes ma'am, lots of shooting coming right up. Let's all pass on the dead thing today." He followed her out at a more cautious pace, and he was highly confused at her disappearing act until he remembered reading something in the personnel files about a camouflage mutation of some kind. Seemed useful, at least. He proceeded with his gun at the ready, heading northward toward the soldier in need of rescue but remaining behind and to the side of one of the turrets. Rather than specifically watching the retrieval of the soldier, Bob kept his eyes panning left and right, gun following along and ready to fire on anyone coming out of the fog that looked unfriendly. He didn't like this damned fog and he sure as hell didn't want to be caught off guards by some assholes coming from an unexpected direction.