Faction Fate of Denon: Attention, All Residents [Darkwire]

[Cassus Akovin]

Objective: In The Pale Sunlight
Equipment: "The Mother Relentless," Akovin Relentless Helm, The Sound of Silence, Darkwire Disruptor, RAW DIG Boots, RAW Ion Encumbrance Rifle, "The Hardpoint" Guild Armor (Average weight jet suit configuration, with High ratings on Kinetics and Blasters, low rating on elemental, with an aftermarket RAW SAS Attachment) and wrist-mounted Carbonite Whipcord Launcher
Comm Status:

1. Holonet & Traditional Commlinks - DOWN - NO MESSAGES RECEIVED
2. Darkwire Tattoo Chat-Relay - UP - Message Received from Peyton Steele
3. CryptNet - UP and IN RANGE - No Unread Messages
4. CorpSec Comm Channel - UP - MESSAGES INTERCEPTED: HIJACKING FOR IMPORTANT PSA

Nearby Tags: Unclear for now; going to cross paths with Brie Jaxx and Cartri Keswoll
CorpSec Tags: Hargo Zur Samuel Exel (Your Comms got jacked by a terrorist broadcast!)

Cassus managed to evade any further missiles or rent-a-cop Seccers as he dragged the poor unconscious or dead ragdoll into a foreclosed bread shop in Baker's Row. He stopped screaming about a minute ago, which gave him enough to move at least audibly stealthily. However, pretty quickly. the gargantuan secondary explosion on the train would tie up enough resources his seeming absence wouldn't be terribly missed. It would give him plenty of time to tap into CorpSec communications to keep appraised of their response.

That's when his eye started twitching, like an unmistakable compulsion to activate his Darkwire Tattoo. It had never done that before, but considering the circumstances and his relative safety at the moment, he gave into the incessant compulsion. For a moment, Cassus was blind, deaf, and dead to the outside world as the nanobots in the ink of his Tattoo linked his mind to the shared virtual environment Darkwire had come to rely on for organizing themselves discretely and separate from any trackable network. At least, to any network outside of theirs, a traitor could still exist inside of it, but now wasn't the time for those thoughts.

Cassus wasn't personally familiar with this particular voice and face but thought he might have recognized them from hearsay from other Shadowrunners. Regardless, they had access to the Tattoo and managed to convince the native uploaded intelligence to modify the environment to enable this kind of communication. Cassus selected the imaginary pin in the virtual message board and decided to respond.

"Uh, Kid here. Managed to nab a Seccer communicator and will respond with updates as I get them... when I can. Gotta keep moving, can't stay here long." Cassus left the message behind and pulled himself out. The whole experience took up to maybe ten seconds. That was a lifetime in a battle, but right now, he was in relative safety, though it wasn't going to last.

While he was parsing the information passing through the CorpSec communicator and adjusting the frequency to valid sub-channels, Cassus received an uplink notification from the CryptNet, and a message filtered through his helmet.

An escape option that was something to consider-

- Cassus was interrupted by another uplink from the CryptNet, a user he was unfamiliar with but might have heard about. Another escape route. A highly specific address with a time limit. Something about it gave him an ominous feeling he didn't like. He couldn't place his thumb on it. What was this about Bounty Hunters? He hadn't gotten any notifications from Local Guild channels... that's when Cassus noticed that his connection with the Holonet very suddenly went dark.

"Shit, blackout. I guess our pre-planned PSA is out now." Cassus smirked intensely, trying his best to find humor in that development while he cracked the CorpSec communicator. That's when he got the message he was looking for:

The list was extensive and detailed, and the price tags were significant. It was only a matter of time before professional hunters were on the scent, and if CorpSec in any way anticipated Darkwire's attack as a potentiality, it was possible they had a head start. He knew that CorpSec had a selection of local Bounty Hunter Guild Chapters on-call in case of emergency situations. With them on the loose, Daiya and the rest were in serious danger.

"What?" Cassus balked, learning that not only was the dignitary a Jedi and not dead but apparently kidnapped?! That presented a very dangerous situation for his friends. It had been their intention to kill them, so the only way they were all still grouped together was because the plan changed, and smooth talking was involved. Lies created fragile alliances, and Cassus didn't want anyone he cared about being around a Jedi when it broke.

It was time to move. Cassus heard Gunships moving overhead, and he elected to follow them back to the scene of the crime...

Before Cassus was ever a Shadowrunner or in so deep against the corporations, he was a Bounty Hunter, an exceptional bounty hunter, given his relative age to the other hunters. Whatever his reasons for employing violence for money, he got in deep within that network circle and picked up numerous skills he wouldn't otherwise invest in.

The first lesson: data mining. Hunting was a practice that crossed multiple layers of society, including the non-physical, an aspect he couldn't understand just starting out. He was doing it now with CorpSec Communicator in his hand, picking up reports on different frequencies. Using only the voice data, he was making a map in his head of the Seven Corners (which he was intimately familiar with) and dropping digital pins in the map of his HUD. The situation was developing fast, faster than anticipated, but not unexpected.

<<Requesting another squad to my location; we have a man down. Suspect is fleeing the scene, on-site team is in pursuit.>>
<<Commander, this is Gorian. Finishing wrap-up on Baker’s Row, a weapons operation has been detained. I intercepted Valery Noble, and her Kidnapper - she seemed uncertain about who was responsible for the attack. I managed to convince her to leave the Kidnapper’s care.>>
<<Kidnapper appeared to be young, colorful armor. The squadron I am with is after the kid while I handle the Target.>>
<<Valery Noble is not cooperating with direct escort due to the confusion regarding the culprit. It will leave CorpSec with a better look to the Alliance if I do not try to force her directly, and instead ensure her safety and escort with a bit of distance. She seems to be making her way somewhere. I can manage this. Is this an acceptable guideline change for the bounty, Commander?>>

Following the Gunships, Cassus felt an itch under his eye, and it wasn't a great time. Information was valuable, so it was worth the risk to break off his pursuit momentarily to duck into an alley. He hastened his connection as quickly as possible.

"New lesson. Don't stick in one place too long. Try to code things up. And get safe. Unsure what they're going to do."

Cassus glanced at the message on the board and broke away immediately. It saved Cassus a few seconds of blindness, and he began to think about the second lesson: manipulation.

In the Bounty Hunting community, there seemed to be an overt subculture of direct confrontationists who were little more than mercenaries, hitmen, or assassins. With them came chases, blaster exchanges, collateral damage, and getaways. Cassus was trained to a higher quality, where capturing a mark involved abusing their trust and anticipating where they would be at any given moment. Right now, the only trust in the corporations' "District 7" was the CorpSec Communication and Public Service Announcement Networks to distribute information. A network that now possessed a vulnerability in the palm of his hand...

The Gunships could wait; he got what information he needed, and he now had a bigger priority. A mission even bigger than securing the safety of his friends. A mission motivated by hatred but also blossomed by new love. He would have to trust in the capabilities of his friends, as the PSA was too important, and he just thought of a way to accomplish two critical objectives at once. Cassus stopped where he was again, against Petyon's advice, but he didn't do so exposed. Hiding behind the cover of a garbage dumpster, he mounted the heavy Ion Encumbrance Rifle had been carrying pointed down the alleyway and rigged the remains of his whipcord launcher to the trigger. If he heard anything like CorpSec coming his way, it would be as simple as pulling his wrist back and letting the self-guiding bolts fly.

Right now, he needed both his hands to break in and hijack the Corporate network from his access point for his own ends. It was time to update the dictionaries of every device currently receiving data from the only official channel that was allowed, and everyone was monitoring. This had been (more or less) his plan all along, though he intended for it to be public galaxywide, local to District 7 would have to do. However, the best part about it is that the Corporate response played right into his hands. There would be no distractions from his message, as it would be the only message they could access for a few moments at least, but its effect will be permanent and reviewable even after the lockdown.

To some, it would just be the naive rambling of some edgy teenage terrorist, but to others, it just might be the political manifesto needed to stir them to action. Or at least, that's what he would hope. At the very least, he would be heard. If he had access to the other pre-planned messages that Daiya and the rest might have planned, he would distribute them too. But he only had local access to his files on the CryptNet right now and didn't seem close enough to a shared access point near enough to any of Darkfire's devices. His message would have to do for today. The others could be released later once they all survived this.

If they all survived this.

The intrusive thought coincided just as he heard a CorpSec Landspeeder Cruiser slowly idly through the street as blaster fire went off in the distance. Shouted orders and knocks echo through the street. As he finished his PSA, he peeked over the dumpster and saw an Officer looking down his alleyway.

"Death to Corpos!" Cassus yelled as he ripped his whipcord and mounted it to the dumpster, forcing the Ion Encumbrance Rifle to fire continuously down the confined corridor. Dozens of rounds were flying out of the alleyway, hitting officers and the Cruiser as it passed. Each tag would hit a target and direct other tags to hit the same location. Shields, if any were used, would quickly be expended, technology would be disabled, and the personnel would be repeatedly bombarded by ionizing plasma. Its initial impact is weak, but after a sustained fire, they would be disorientated, stunned, and in some cases, killed as hundreds of bolts cut off their advance through the street.

Before the seccers could respond, Cassus was flying out of the alleyway above them as his sprung trap provided him covering fire.

Right now, Cassus was concerned with finding anyone he could and bringing them to safety. Baker's Row was becoming a powder box, and getting deeper into the Tombs seemed less likely. Taking up Mistress Mastema ( Dominique Vexx ) sounded like the riskier, easier option, and time was running out. If he didn't take it, it would be that much harder to get out of this unscathed. Cassus kept his flights low and limited, trying to stay out of sight of gunship patrols.

Darkwire wouldn't be able to evade them forever. It was only a matter of time. He had to get to safety, but a gut instinct drove him forward. Others needed protection, needed comfort from this conflict, so he needed to fight a little longer...

Brie Jaxx Cartri Keswoll

 

[Daiya]

Objective 1: In the Pale Sunlight
Equipment: Phase II Powderpunk Armor, PD-3 "Combo Breakers" Blaster Pistols, PD-4 "Ninth Life" Hold-out Blaster, "Little Sister" Karambit Knife
Nearby: Yula Perl

(Post Soundtrack: "Blindfold" by Sleeping Wolf)

The weight of Yula's words crashed down on the teen. She shuddered under her hesitation, the way the woman punctuated the silence between them with a curse. And then a question, probing deep at the heart of what Daiya had done. She knew what had happened, there was no need to wait or check. Something told her the Seccer she had shot was gone, either dead or soon would be, and the way she felt his life drain had sapped her own sturdiness. "I don't kn— I didn't me—"

Daiya couldn't even bring herself to lie to cover her mistake this time.

Even the soothing hand on her back or the soft words that came after it offered only a brief reprieve, Daiya couldn't shake the sense that she had sunk too low. Now she might never find a place among Darkfire, to earn the esteem of Yula or Ivory. Were there more? There had to be more, watching her moves today. Her limbs felt frozen, as paralyzed by fear as by indecision.

"Safe?" Daiya lifted her head, chancing a look into Yula's eyes. They looked warm, with inviting words to stand on. Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as the teen shook her head, pink hair whipping back and forth like her moods today. "There's nothing safe anymore. It was never gonna be safe. Safe is just what we tell ourselves to get through the day, and it's a lie. We're not fething safe, we're just waiting 'til the Corpos make good on their threats."

The young shadowrunner stood up straighter, her jaw set on gritted teeth. The back of her gloved hand swiped away the moisture on her grim face, and her weight settled back on heels. Daiya took her blaster eagerly, but she didn't holster it this time. "No fething way, I'm not gonna go hide underground while chit gets worse. That Jedi's gonna get away, and we'll lose our chance. We gotta show them, Yula, we gotta teach the Corpos what happens when things get hard. The Tombs, feth, it's like we're just laying down to die."

Her head swiveled, eyes searching the tiny glimpses of sky through cloudcutters. The droning sound was growing louder, and she knew what it meant. The teen's limbs itched now, urging her on before time ran out. "It's gonna be fething impossible now, but whatever. We've done the impossible before, right?" Daiya cocked half a grin at Yula, before a moment's pause. She snapped her fingers, feeling a spark of purpose warm them again. "Valery, that was it. Have you run into her before? I practically had her convinced I was on her side, if you help me we can take her, no prob!"

Daiya grinned broadly at the Zeltron woman, eager for her idol to discover the wisdom of youth again. She could learn, and better yet, the young shadowrunner could still prove herself. "Don't think about the Seccers, we'll out run 'em. It'll be fun, you and me taking down a Jedi, escaping Seccers, we'll be legends!"

She reached for Yula's hand with hers, almost giddy with excitement as she urged the woman to join her. "Corpos are gonna be scared chitless when it happens, if we can off a Jedi then they stand no chance!"

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula listened to Daiya, her focus squarely on the panicked teen as she ran through a stream of consciousness. The Zeltron didn't interrupt. She just listened, lips thinned into a firm line as her eyes practically bored a hole into the kid's skull.

Daiya was spiraling. Yula couldn't help but think that her grip on the reality of the situation was beginning to slip, likely from all of the trauma she had experienced today. From her own vantage point, the engineer felt like they were staring down the barrel of a blaster rifle.

When she mentioned Valery, Yula's expression changed. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. She was hoping that she hadn't been right about Valery being their target, but here Daiya was admitting it freely. Gleefully so. She could admire the panache and willingness to throw herself into the fire, going down in a blaze of glory just like in the holos. Acidic bile crawled up her throat at the realization that Daiya wanted to kill one of her closest friends.

Yula closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as she fought to steady herself against the storm of Daiya's emotions as they whirled and tumbled all around her. She focused, falling into a vague meditative state and stayed there for a long moment after Daiya's words had run out. Faintly, she could feel the pulse of Valery Noble 's life force. An exhale of relief heaved her shoulders and torso. One thing at a time.

The Zeltron opened her eyes. One hand left Daiya's shoulders, reeling back before surging forward with an open palm.

SLAP!
​

The sound of skin on skin cut sharply through Denon's polluted air.

"This ain't the fuckin' holos, Daiya." She growled. "I know that things have gone to chit and that you want to be a hero, but now's not the time. This plan you guys had—it's falling apart. What are you now, sixteen? Practically an adult. An adult knows when to fight, and when she's beat."

Yula withdrew both of her hands, sizing Daiya up. Again, her hard expression softened at the edges. Daiya was still a kid. A kid born into a broken system, a kid who's had to struggle and fight for every chance she had to survive.

"Aint' no shame in licking your wounds." She grumbled, looking off into the distance. Her head shook quickly, and she seized Daiya's wrist.

"Hate me all you want, but I'm not letting you throw your life away here. You got so much more ahead of you, Daiya."

Yula would tug the girl's wrist tightly, urging her to follow. If she resisted, a stun charge from one of Yula's gadgets would knock her unconscious.

Either way, she'd drag Daiya towards the Tombs.

Daiya

 

[Lossa Darcuhl]

Location: ELEVATOR DOWN, DISTRICT 7 TWILIGHT LEVEL
Equipment: Danger Jacket, Outfit, Discreet Hearing Enhancer - Left Ear, Long Handled Double Lightsaber, Concealed Sling Bag
Tags: Makko Vyres

Sense and reason were not on the list for things Lossa had in supply at the moment as Makko knelt in front of her to mind her wounds.

Her whole body rigid as she fought with the need to run even knowing it was him trying to help.

"Jus-just gimme a sec-second." She hissed, tears stinging her eyes and dragging light lines through the smear across her face.

Her chest rolled through a breath, caught between a hack and a cough as she winced again when he tilted her face. The pain in her face a little less intense as her core burned against the involuntary action.

It took effort to not fight the touch, though she couldn't help the scoff at his comment.

"Just f-fething breath. F-funny. I nee-need. Inhale-ler." Her hands scratching against the increasingly heavy jacket that hid the bag.

"B-bhag. Und-Der." Her breathing becoming more labored as her eyes went wide. A hand sliding up to her throat as the tightening feeling took more of her control for itself.

 

[Makko Vyres]

She wasn't breathing right. He didn't know why she wasn't breathing right. He felt panic rising. In the small confines of the lift there was little that he could do to help.

"Oh, right," he said. Makko felt like an idiot for letting panic cloud his judgement.

His hands trembled lightly as he rifled through the bag and grabbed the inhaler. Makko didn't know how it worked, so he grabbed her hand, forced the inhaler into it and brought it to her lips.

"I'm sorry Lossa, I'm so sorry."

 

[Das]

Location: Seven Corners, Denon
Objective 1: In the Pale Sunlight
Soundtrack: DANGER CITY
Tags: OPEN to DARKWIRE AGENTS

Under her hood, Das tugged at her ear as she navigated the alleys, shortcuts, and underpasses of District Seven. There was still no sound, and even though she knew the streets like the back of her hand, they somehow felt entirely foreign. She kicked a discarded soda can in frustration, sending it clinking down the alley.

Nothing made sense, nothing was working out, and there was nothing she could do about it. Das absolutely loathed feeling helpless, but as she continued to scour all the places she could think of that might lead to the Tombs, she found there was little else to feel.

CorpSec was completely unhinged, gripping the Corners tighter and tighter as they try to squeeze out every last drop of Darkwire. Das wondered what her people were doing to counter the Seccers. Were they sticking to the shadows, harassing the enemy with hacks and code? Had they finally waged war, taken up the arms they lifted from Fiora's?

Were they winning?

Her thoughts became a supercut of the Shadowrunners who'd become good friends of hers; Daiya , Hex , Zenric . She hoped they were safe, or at the very least okay.

Das had always known deep down that one day, guerilla tactics and shadow warfare would only get them so far. Sooner or later, Darkwire would have to stand in the light and fight CorpSec like soldiers. She just didn't expect today to be the day.

The idea of fighting an open war with the DireX Board scared the stars out of her, but not nearly as much as the sudden bone-chilling realization that she hadn't heard from Zephyrr since the lockdown started.

Comms were jammed, and she didn't know where to begin looking to find him. Her cheeks turned pink as she remembered his sharp features, his kind demeanor, and the way he made her feel seen.

She wished desperately to every star in the galaxy that he was okay, too.

Das was so deep in her head that had she not pored over the cryptic symbology laced in Nim's message, she'd have walked right past the strangely marked door, just as she had before. The uncanny familiarity of the graffiti caught her eye, halting her stride. She'd passed by this very spot dozens of times on her way to meet up with a group of street racers in her old neighborhood, but never had she found any interest in the hand-painted symbols.

All it took was a quick comparison between the graffiti and the message to spark a happy realization; She'd been walking right past an entrance to the Tombs all this time, and by sheer coincidence she'd stumbled upon it again.

"Maybe there is such a thing as luck," she quietly remarked as she eyed the door's keypad.

 

[Daiya]

Objective 1: In the Pale Sunlight
Equipment: Phase II Powderpunk Armor, PD-3 "Combo Breakers" Blaster Pistols, PD-4 "Ninth Life" Hold-out Blaster, "Little Sister" Karambit Knife
Nearby: Yula Perl
Others: Hargo Zur

(Post Soundtrack: "Wide Awake" by Lacuna Coil)

Daiya found Yula's hand, not joining her own. It came of its own volition, joining her face with a sound that surprised the pink-haired teen before she felt it.

—SMACK—​

"OW!" She clutched her hand to the tender flesh of her cheek, almost recoiling at the heat of it under her fingers. Hot eyes flashed up at Yula, lancing into the pink woman's face with the promise of retort. Daiya's idol, the woman she had followed and imitated and learned from, was speaking, and yet the teen could barely let herself hear it. The slap held the finality of judgement and the ugly weight of paternalism.

"Who the feth do you think—" Daiya began, before Yula's words cut in.

"What are you now, sixteen?"

"Duh! You were at my birthday!"

"Practically an adult. An adult knows when to fight, and when she's beat."

"I'm old enou—" Her words dropped off with a noise humming in her ears. Yula's tone changed, softened, if only a little. Their conversation didn't lose its harsh edge as the young shadowrunner looked up to the new source of contention. Daiya was just about to let her partner, the woman she thought she could look up to, know. Instead, she let out a yelp and her feet stumbled forward, drawn helplessly by the unyielding grip of the Zeltron shadowrunner.

"Ow, Yula—" Daiya pulled back on her imprisoned wrist, but Yula was stronger somehow. She nearly stumbled before finding the better rhythm to follow her. "I was just gonna—" Her throat rumbled with a frustrated growl, shoving her blaster back in its holster before trying to pry her hand from Yula's. The teen had to dig in her heels to gain enough leverage to free her wrist, shaking it out before holding her hands up to the woman. "Chill! I'm coming with you, I'm not fething stupid, look!"

The CorpSec aerial vehicle passed over the gap between buildings, so close she could almost see inside the Seccer visors. With a "Chit!" under her breath, the young shadowrunner realized that her helmet was still off. Her blond-and-pink hair fluttered with her heartbeat, and now Daiya took hold of Yula's wrist herself. Her feet picked up the pace, urging them forward. "Dunno if they saw me, but I saw them! CorpSec's gonna surround us in a second if we're not gone, they'd have to be blind or stupid not to!"

The teen figured Yula knew their way to, whatever she had said. The Tombs? It was a name only faint in Daiya's mind, eluding her thoughts. Her mind eagerly peppered her with alternatives, real and imagined to accompany her harried flied. Feet pounding on the duracrete streets and walkways, Daiya's heart pounded with the deluge of her thoughts. All the things she had left unconsidered, undecided, unfocused upon came rushing back, leaving her in silent tatters as she found herself behind Yula's lead again.

"Oh my stars, Cartri!" Daiya clutched a hand to her chest, struggling for a gasp of her stolen breath back. Her heart ached at the way she had left him on the train, charging him to get Brie out to safety when the plans had gone sideways. Plans he hadn't even known about. Even her friends had only their trust in her to see them through today, and she had left them behind the minute her plans began to crack.

Her feet picked up the pace while Daiya fumbled with her helmet, struggling to put it on again while moving fast. She bunched up her hair, pressing and squeezing it through the cracks, trying to rely on Yula not to lead into shadows or through potholes to make her trip. Her cheek smarted hard as the metal touched it, and she tossed a glare to the back of Yula's figure at the reminder. The teen strained the helmet's clasps to their tolerance, until she could hear the latches click and the HUD turned on. She let out an audible cry, a mix of sorrow and relief that was muffled outside of her suit.

Daiya sent out as many messages as she could to her friends via the CryptNet, all with the same desperate plea from a worried teen.

r u ok? u in safehouse? tombs? /Powderpunk

Doc Painless Hex Brie Jaxx Cartri Keswoll Cassus Akovin Ivory Stroud Das Zephyrr Anakin Stormrunner Ruby Jaxx Peyton Steele Johnny Diamonds or basically if you've gone on a Darkwire mission with Daiya lately you probably got this blast​

 

[Brie Jaxx]

Objective: In The Pale Sunlight
Equipment: Phase-I Haywire Armor, KC-47 Hybrid Pistol, taser baton, stealth field generator
Tags: Cartri Keswoll , Adeline Noctua , Cassus Akovin , open!

​

"W-wedding?" Cartri gasped out with a lowering of his eyes. If he died now, Cartri wouldn't have the honor of experiencing that with the girl he loved most.

Brie hadn't been too clumsy mentioning that, after all. Ginger boy seemed to get some power into his broken body and hope into his soul, currently hanging by a thread.

''Y-yeah! You want to marry her... right? I've never been to a wedding before, so don't try to rob me on that one too... like you tried with the holocron on Froswythe!'' she stated, adding a tad of tease together with a friendly but wavering smile. Brie did her best to hide the fear she had for them, and for Cartri's wounds. It might have destroyed all his hope.

"W-where will... where will we go?"

That was a good question. A very good question. Until now, Brie had pretty much improvised to get them out of harms way from the monster woman. They could try to get back onto the train tracks and make their way away from the building, but that plan came with a considerable risk to Cartri. The trains had stopped going too, so they couldn't try to catch one leaving the area.

As Brie threw a look down from the fire escape, a gust of wind catching and messing with her hair, she once again realised how far down it was to the ground. Just then, she came to think of the Darkwire tattoo she had made not that long ago.

<''Guys! If anyone can hear me? It's Brie! Me and Cartri are trapped on the fire escape of the skyscraper next to the train crash site! W-we got something after us... Don't know who or what, but if she comes to... we're pretty screwed! Anyone mobile and can give us a ride?''> she sent across the closed net.

 

[Lossa Darcuhl]

Location: ELEVATOR DOWN, DISTRICT 7 TWILIGHT LEVEL
Equipment: Danger Jacket, Outfit, Discreet Hearing Enhancer - Left Ear, Long Handled Double Lightsaber, Concealed Sling Bag
Tags: Makko Vyres

The clacker sounded on the inhaler, a mist forming as she found air filling her lungs. One crisis averted, she moved to the next one. Her hand closing around his as she pressed it down once more, the motion and mist allowing her even more breathing room.

Pulling their hand back, she focused on calming down enough to not need the stupid thing again.

Her eyes hurt, tear bright and blinking as if something had got in them.

"It's fine. We're alive. Just. Holy chit. Chit." Her color returned, eyes still calm as she watched her hand tremble even with grabbing his.

She exhaled slowly, purposefully, the tremors slowing until she couldn't tell if she was shaking or just the lift moving.

"Fefth." Her hand touched her lip, producing gauze and a sterile wipe from the satchel bag, pressing each into his lap.

"You get to patch me up. We aren't gonna talk about," Her hand waved up and in a circle back to where the corpo goons were. "Until we are in a safe little hidey hole."

 

[Doc Painless]

Doc Painless was used to doing for others what he couldn't do for himself, and that day was no exception. He stayed to help everyone over the fence, make sure they got out of that alley, give them a shot at reaching the waypoint they'd been sent, but he wasn't going to be able to follow. He'd made a promise to descend into the heart of this madness, and that meant hanging back. It meant finding an old access hatch, set into the wall of the restaurant, he would never have otherwise considered using. It led only toward danger, not a chance at escape.

Breaking off from the rest of the group, he never even saw Ruby Jaxx go down. She was around the corner by then.

He was underground. And there was a lot of underground to travel through, enough to take him right where he wanted to go.

Cities aren't built in a day, or a week, or a decade. The largest, most populous, most enduring ones are built up over centuries, each generation building new pieces onto - or on top of - the old. To keep track of all the changes, all the additions and rebuildings and demolitions and utility reroutings that were constantly in progress, is a monumental task. In a planet-wide city, that task becomes practically impossible. Legions upon legions of bureaucrats are required just to stay on top of planned, approved, legal changes to the city's infrastructure.

When there are civil upheavals, even those limited records are often lost. Denon had been through several in recent decades.

The result was that the local underground was a near-unmapped mess, especially in poorer districts that the Corpo government didn't give a chit about. Contractors developing new properties would start creating subterranean channels for power lines, only to run into drainage systems built by some other contractor but never formally added to the blueprints. Utility tunnels connected at crazy angles, having to suddenly ramp up or down in order to meet each other, because no one had good positioning data on the older ones.

For the unhoused and the fugitive, this slapdash warren of connecting serviceways was both refuge and highway. Denon was a city of pillars, districts built atop districts built atop districts, teeming layers of habitation spanning from ground to sky. By burrowing into those pillars, moving through the connective tissue of the stacked city, one could manually access any level - no speeder, ID, or money required. It might be an exhausting climb, it might take a long while, but you could get from most anywhere to most anywhere given enough time and energy.

Eventually CorpSec was going to sweep those access ways, too. The Doc didn't envy them that job; it was a mazelike environment, with the potential for encounters with desperate junkies, rogue droids, and anti-Corpo insurgents lurking around every corner. The Seccers would need meds or therapy to forget the stress of operating in those claustrophobic, constant-alert conditions - probably meds, since those were a cheap, short-sighted "fire and forget" solution, and therapy required the Direx Board to view their assets as actual people.

For now, though, the Seccers were focused on the streets and buildings of Seven Corners. That gave the Doc a little time.

The warehouse he'd picked as rendezvous point was a place he'd used before, and he wasn't the only one. Nothing went to waste on Denon's lower levels, where every resource was at a premium. The place was a known drop point for drug dealers, but it also hosted a hydroponic community garden in one of the back bays, and plenty of transients slept up in the rafters, relatively safe from womp rats and duracrete slugs. It wasn't an ideal place to do medicine, but all the ideal places would be watched. This one might still be safe. Maybe.

Twenty minutes of climbing and walking brought the Doc to the access hatch he knew would take him close to the warehouse. He cycled it open carefully, cybernetic eyes scanning the street outside the building, one hand on his gun. It was deserted down here, in the shadows of the lower Volgho Hollows. The warehouse district was built into an old cave system, and the lowest, narrowest caves were seldom used anymore - too difficult to access, and too unimportant for the authorities to bother with changing that fact. They'd just built over the area.

Drawing his blaster, the Doc moved up the street, keeping low to the ground. He eased open the side door of the warehouse, wincing as it squealed on rusted hinges, and then cautiously stepped inside. So far as he could tell, he was alone in that cavernous space. His augmented eyes tracked only old infrared patterns, guiding his gaze to a bundle of death sticks taped against the far wall; hours old, by the look of the fading heat traces, probably planted just before the lockdown began. Bad luck for the buyer. He'd never reach them now.

No patient yet. A trap, or just an understandable delay? He would wait as long as he could and hope for the latter.

Sarvod Dravis​

 

[Hargo Zur]

After everything that had transpired, he finally had something he could sell as “Progress”.

A picture. It was shaky, and he’d instructed the image be cleaned up as best it could… but it would suffice. A girl, no older than 20 years old, with blonde hair & pink tips. She’d been wearing some kind of armor which appeared to have been, at one time, Military-issue, as well as a blue poncho, and in the video he’d been given, she’d speedily drawn a peculiar-looking blaster pistol. A still-frame of the image, zoomed in & cleaned up as much as possible, caught a sight worthy of every news-feed & tabloid across Denon:

The enraged snarl of a teenage girl in mid-draw, lips pulled back from her teeth & brow furrowed, with an animal look of hatred in her eyes moments before murdering one of his officers.

It was perfect.

“I want this image on every network, every bill-board, every holo-pad. I want to know who she is, whether she’s from Denon or off-world. This is the face of Darkwire.”

And so it was. CorpSec Counter-Intelligence was already developing leads using the image; running it through the Corporate Discrete Population Database, looking for some form of identifying information they could use to put a face to the name. It wouldn’t take them long…

She could run, but she couldn’t hide forever.

As the cogs of Denon's Media Machine spun into motion, Zur harnessed the opportunity to step outside of the command tent into the rapidly-cooling evening air. It was the first time he'd been outside in hours. In the distance, the ever-present sound of sirens moved about, echoing across the tall buildings which surrounded the parking lot; still visible in the light, the hulking mass of the destroyed train dominated the northern-most section of the open area. Before the Commander pulled out his personal communicator, he watched as a half-dozen hovering vehicles - powerful lights trained on the wreckage & the area around it - flitted about, inspecting the ruined transport for signs of further danger. He would expect, by the morning, a full report on damages sustained as well as a number of suggested procedures to minimize such.

For now, he had to make a call... one which he'd been dreading all evening. At least now, he had something worthwhile to report.

Fifteen minutes later, he ended the call.

Silently, he cursed... Cursed Darkwire, cursed his own foul luck, cursed the day, and cursed those above him.

The Planetary Commission was coming to see him tomorrow morning. The news that they had a suspect had barely made an impact. Of course, he'd only done what was expected of him; produced results. The fact that an immense manhunt was under way, that likely millions of credits-worth of damage had been done not only to Denon's infrastructure but to his reputation... Their Reputation... was too important to ignore.

With everything in motion, Hargo went to find something stimulating to drink. In a few hours, he'd possibly be able to find a quiet place to take a quick nap... but at any moment, CorpSec could find themselves imbroiled in yet another catastrophe. Reports of violence across District 7 were streaming in by the minute, but unless they made an arrest, he could only wait... and watch.

Daiya Valery Noble Cassus Akovin Cartri Keswoll Brie Jaxx Doc Painless Samuel Exel Sarvod Dravis Silver Shield Group Makko Vyres Lossa Darcuhl Das Yula Perl​

 

[Under Foot]

TOMB STATION
Midnight Zone
[ garbage truck ] [ blaster pistol ] goggles ]

[ post theme ]​

"That's as good an answer as any, it's a good couch, comfortable."

The Squib's heart leapt up into his throat.

A woman who appreciated a good piece of salvage. His tails flitted from side to side, wagging happily as the diminutive alien looked up at Hex.

To make today better -- assuming, for a moment, that being declared a terrorist, killing law enforcement, running a blockade, and accruing a bounty was one's outlook for a good day -- Hex seemed to mull over to offer to bunker down. "I don't know, could lie low for a bit."

The two of them.

Alone in the Tombs.

...with probably several dozen other people. And Gideon. And Gideon's people.

But still, laying low with Hex. The thought made the Squib's ears droop slightly as the fox-like alien gave a sigh. It was a nice thought, almost like a...

"What do you think Undie?"

"Huh?" the Squib uttered, snapped back to reality.

"Where would you go?"

The Squib's large, blue eyes blinked. His two tails alternated, as the fox-like ears twitched before flattening back against his head as the scrapper mulled over the question.

"Altier," the small alien answered finally.

Yes, it was a garbage dump of a planet, but that wasn't the only reason.

A lot of the reason, yes. But not the only reason.

"Its close, but outside of DireX's direct sphere of influence. And the trash piles offer a lot of possible resources," the Squib mused aloud, pacing back and forth as he thought out loud to share his reasoning with the woman.

When he stopped, the Squib looked up and added, "They're controlled by competing gangs of salvagers, but if anything that works to our advantage and makes it easier to disappear."

Hex​

 

[Sarvod Dravis]

The meeting spot was in one of Denon's more labyrinthian sections, but Sar was no stranger to urban warfare. Still, he was slowed down by the need to ditch the gunship and proceed on foot - there was simply no way to bring it all the way, let alone bring it all the way while maintaining the element of surprise.

Any of the discreets down here could be serving as eyes and ears for the terrorists.

Not too long after Doc arrived at the warehouse, a fist-sized scout droid would approach, its sensors eagerly sniffing out any targets of interest. Even through the warehouse wall, it could detect the presence of a lone humanoid - a humanoid with more than a few metallic implants. One who seemed to be waiting for someone or something.

[CIRCUMSTANTIAL POSITIVE ID - 73% PROBABILITY]

A brief frown crossed Sar's features as he huddled out of sight with two Redhands - the other five having approached from different vectors, all the better to cover potential escape routes. 73%? It would have to do. Either it was the Doc or it was a potential complication; if the latter, they would have to be disposed of quickly and discretely.

His mind made up, he slid towards the doorway, pair of armed goons trailing after him.

Unless Doc acted first, he would move towards the entrance, take up a flanking position, and go in guns blazing - stun mode, of course. If it was Doc, an interrogation was in order. If not, killing them elsewhere was less likely

Doc Painless​

 

[Doc Painless]

The longer Doc Painless waited, the more he worried. Had something gone wrong, or had this been a trap to begin with?

Neither possibility was good, and both were equally likely at that point. He hadn't offered to come directly to the wounded person's location, after all; what if she and her friends simply hadn't been able to make it to the warehouse, and were even now pinned down in streets crawling with CorpSec goons - or worse, were already in CorpSec detention? They might even be dead, beaten even more brutally - or simply denied the medical attention they needed to survive the prior beating that had inspired them to call him in the first place.

The comm channel they'd reached him on before was silent. No updates. But that still didn't tell him for sure - disaster or trap?

The Doc wanted to pace, to let out his nervous energy with quick laps around the warehouse, but he was too street-smart for that. He'd tagged all the exits as soon as he'd entered, his cybernetic eyes cutting easily through the darkness to identify and map a half dozen potential escape routes. Then he'd found a place to hole up that didn't put his back to any of the doors - far enough into a corner that no one could easily get behind him, but not so far in that he could be instantly trapped in that corner. He'd learned that delicate balance the hard way.

He'd also learned the importance of cover. Fortunately, the dilapidated warehouse was strewn with plenty of that - rusted cargo crates and dented shipping containers littered the warehouse floor, creating a maze of junk that obscured sight lines and would block at least a few blaster bolts. Crouching behind a pair of those crates, forcing himself to be still, the Doc focused on his breathing. Steady in, steady out. The weight of his blaster in his hand was reassuring. That made him a little sad, actually. He'd gotten so accustomed to doing violence these days.

It wasn't what he'd ever wanted for himself... but corrupt governments didn't fall by harsh words alone. Someone had to pick up a gun.

The Doc missed the little CorpSec scanner droid, but he couldn't miss what happened next: CorpSec goons bursting through the main door, blasters blazing. Okay, so, trap, a surprisingly calm voice in the back of his head remarked. The street medic pulled his head down, letting the stun blasts ping off the crates he'd braced his back against. His thermal vision picked up eight heat signatures at the various entrances... and they sure didn't look like standard Seccers. He'd heard of Redhands before, criminals working off seven-year sentences through violence.

A typically callous Corpo solution, trying to turn absolutely everything into an asset. Justice? Rehabilitation? No. Efficiency.

Eight men, all focused on him. The Doc blew out a long, slow breath as he contemplated those numbers. They were the kind of odds that only Jedi and holovid stars could take on and come out on top, and he was neither. Outnumbered, outflanked, and outgunned, he was in some deep chit. Maybe it had always been destined to end this way, a desperate, doomed last stand against the state. What a bitter irony that all this had begun with a misguided, unfocused act of terrorism by the radical Darkwire faction that the Doc had been trying to reign in.

They hadn't been trying to get rid of the old man who'd been cramping their violent style, but they might have succeeded anyway.

As that thought crossed the Doc's mind, he came to a decision. He pulled out a pocket datapad for a moment, setting up a recording, one that would immediately be transmitted to the inbox of an old friend. His last bit of guidance, perhaps, final words of wisdom she could take or leave. He hoped she would take them. When he was ready, he simply began speaking; the subcutaneous comlink implanted in his throat easily picked up everything he said, with no interference from the loud gun battle erupting in the warehouse. As he spoke, he returned fire.

Brak! Brak! The Doc opened up on the Corpos who'd come in guns blazing, firing from cover while they charged blindly in.

"Daiya," the message began, "I think my number's up. I have some things I want to say to you before I'm gone."

"I'm so proud of you, in so many ways, for so many things. But I'm also scared for you, for your future."

Brak! Brak! Another couple of carefully-targeted blaster bolts leapt out from between the cover crates.

All the exits were covered. Escape was unlikely at best. He could only hold them back a little while.

Long enough, perhaps, to finish leaving some parting advice to his oldest friend on Denon.

Sarvod Dravis | Daiya​

 

[Hex]

Objective 1. In pale sunlight

Tag: Daiya Cartri Keswoll Cassus Akovin Valery Noble AMCO Under Foot Das

Location: escaping
Objective: Destroy the train

Spoiler: Equipment

• Powderpunk armor on loan from Daiya
• Guarderma HE suit metallic pink hex pattern with mag boots
• ap-25i SIMP pistol
• 'Candles' Heavy particle blaster
• 'confetti' Rocket launcher
• Party Poppers (6 explosive, 2 gas)
• 3 x Iadrium charges.
• Dancer repulsor board
• Dervish Knife
• Cheap data pad and communicator
• Hand held plasma cutter

Spoiler: Hex dialogue colors

Poor Hex hears voices in her head

Hex speech to others
Hex speech to herself

Hexes inner voices
'...Neutral...'
'...Doubt...'
'...Anger...'
Coloured '.....' are also words that Hex can hear , but I decided not to write them to reduce clutter

"Altier! Thats genius, could totally vanish there and I'm sure my favourite scrap merchant knows where we can eat!" Hex smiled excitedly as the plan hit her ears, Hex loved a scrap yard, so many toys, putting things together to make new...

'...and usually more destructive...'

...things, the only problem was food, with the best will in the galaxy, eating food found in a dump was not at the top of Hex's list of delicacies. Maybe she had been spoiled by her darkwire life.

'...no, its ok not to want to eat rotting food...'
"Thanks" she laughed.

She looked around and mused at Underfoot's demeanor around her, the folded ears and wagging tail, she'd not seen him much like that, it made her curious about the little alien. But Hex had other things on her mind. She pulled out her comm and looked seeing a notification from her friend.

r u ok? u in safehouse? tombs? /Powderpunk

She sent a reply

Hey! I'm at the tombs with Undie, then we are going to try to get to Altier. So glad you are alive! Alive Daiya is my favourite kind! Hex x x x

Top three at least!
H x

Hex cackled and folded her comm away again before turning to Underfoot, she breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the day was ending and they could relax a little. Hex didnt really know the tombs, but she knew she needed to use her tattoo to get in somehow. When they got to the entrance Hex unzipped the top of her guarderma, feeling to cooler air on her skin and sje flashed the pink bullet on her right clavicle. Embedded in the old ink she had had since she was thirteen was now an impossible complex nano-code that was recognised by the tombs security and marked her out as a member of Darkwire. "You coming hon?" she beckoned to Underfoot as she checked her kit to and got ready to enter the tombs and relative safety.

 

[Das]

Location: Seven Corners, Denon
Objective 1: In the Pale Sunlight
Soundtrack: STRNGR
Tags: Hex ; Under Foot

It felt like hours had passed when Das finally emerged from the maintenance tunnels and stepped into the ruined metro. She felt sure at least a dozen times that she was lost, but somehow, she managed to navigate the subterranean passageways.

In part, she owed that to Nim; Were it not for the glyphs she placed in her message, Das may not have made it to the other side. A chill ran down her spine as she considered the Tombs’ namesake. How many people had gotten lost on their way down?

She shook the thought from her head and pushed forward, following the distant echoes of voices up ahead. When she rounded the next bend, her eyes widened at the sight of people standing at a security checkpoint. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with Nim’s hieroglyphic symbols. It was the Tombs.

She made it. She actually made it.

And then, she spotted the shape of a familiar girl. She'd never been so happy to see the color blue.

"Hex?!" Das shouted from down the tunnel, breaking into a full jog as she pushed through the crowd.

The blue-haired teen rushed to meet her, flinging her arms around Das in an explosive hug that knocked the wind from her lungs.

Das wrapped her arms around Hex and squeezed her as tight as she could muster, holding her close and refusing to let go. When they did pull away, Das dabbed at the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks.

Everything that went down on the surface was finally starting to catch up to her.

"Oh my God, Hex, you don't know how glad I am to see you."

All the tension, uncertainty, and panic had been blocked out by sheer adrenaline; Willpower and determination to survive had fueled her this whole time, but those reserves had long since been exhausted. Now that she stood at the entrance to the Tomb, beside a friend she can trust, all those emotions came crashing into her.

"I wasn't sure that any of you were down here, or if you guys were safe, and I-- I--"

Her worried eyes flashed between Hex and her partner, Under Foot. She couldn’t hold it back. The thought of losing all her friends to CorpSec was shattering. They took her parents during the Denon Riots, but she was too young to do anything about it then.

“I’m so happy you guys made it.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. Das refused to let those Seccer bastards take anyone else from her. But with things so scrambled throughout the Corners, there was little else she could do now besides regroup and recover for whatever comes next.

At least she wasn’t alone anymore.

She watched curiously as a mixed group of Shadowrunner and Denonite refugees filtered through the checkpoint.

The guards were scanning their tattoos, giving access to those who had Darkwire’s high-tech nano-carbon ink laced within the piece. Das knew it gave the wearer access to TattChat, but how did the Tombs know about it?

“I don’t have one,” Das said, nodding to a tatted-up Zeltron as he stepped through the gates.

Her cool-blue eyes turned to Hex, the tears mostly dry now.

”Think you guys could vouch for me?”

 

[Sarvod Dravis]

The target was clever enough to take cover, but it would not help him. There was no escape.

One of the Redhands accompanying Sar went down from the counterfire, but he was expendable. What Sar could not allow was holes in the metaphorical net. <<All hands, approach with cover. Stun bolts. Suppressive fire.>>

The droid had slipped into the air above Doc. It was unarmed, but had a visual. ID confirmed.

He might shoot it down, or he might not. Either way, it had already served its purpose.

Concerningly, the Doc made no move to run for it. He must know he wouldn't make it, especially with more goons closing in, and yet he was not talking. Not negotiating. A willingness to 'die for the cause'? If so, Sar would take it, but the man would be more worth alive. The DireX were no doubt eager for any and all leads after this disaster.

"You don't have to die here, Doc." His voice came not from Sar himself, but from an audio emitter placed behind cover. Meanwhile, he crept closer, using whatever rubble and crates he could to stay out of sight. An attempt aided by the bolts flying Doc's way. "Give yourself up and we can work something out. What you know is enough to buy your life."

Was it true? Maybe. It was not as if Sar cared. He was here to get the job done, honour be damned.

As he awaited a response, he slid a stun grenade from a belt holster. Nine, maybe ten metres. That could work.

Doc Painless​

 

[Doc Painless]

One of the Redhands went down in a clatter of armor, dropping limply to the filthy duracrete floor. The others didn't even check on him; not much loyalty or camaraderie among the conscripted convicts, evidently. They just kept coming, squeezing off a storm of covering fire that kept the Doc's head down. Pinned behind the crates, the street medic took advantage of the only clear target he had left. He casually raised his blaster and blew the little scout droid out of the sky. Too little, too late, but it was at least some small satisfaction to smash a Corpo asset.

The Doc was surprised by how calm he felt. A strange serenity had settled over him the moment he'd realized he was trapped, that he was at bet unlikely to make it out of here alive. Perhaps some part of him had always known things would end this way, his enemies wielding his compassion against him to lure him out. By using such tactics, of course, they were only creating a deadlier enemy. When the Doc and all the others who could be trapped by playing on empathy were gone, only the hardcore radicals would be left, bent on burning down everything.

CorpSec might live to regret taking out all the moderates when the violent extremists took control.

The Doc didn't want that, had been fighting against it for a while now, but his fight was about to be over. All he could do was send this last message, one final attempt to reel in an organization he feared was spiraling out of control. He went on, his voice steady despite the clamor of stun bolts impacting all around him. "You're a fighter. I know you'll see this thing all the way through, that you'll never quit until there's real change on Denon. I know you'll do whatever you think it takes. I know you're due for some payback against these scum."

You don't have to die here, Doc! The street medic ignored the broadcast voice and went on. "I just want to ask you, one last time, to keep some of the things I've said in mind. Most of all, I want you to remember that there's an After. There will be a time when CAD is dead and gone, and someone is going to have to pick up the pieces on this planet and make things work again. You've still got a lot of life ahead of you. You're going to have to live in that After for a good long while. Don't make it one where there's nothing but rubble."

"You'll get your revenge, but that's a fire that only keeps you warm along the journey, not at the destination."

"Think about what's going to keep you warm when the CAD has already burned down."

"Goodbye, Daiya. Good luck. Build something new for me. Please."

He cut the transmission. There wasn't time to say more, to remind her of the importance of public support and intact infrastructure and all the other things that wanton terrorism jeopardized, how any new government would fail without them. They'd talked about it before, about how operating solely on revenge would only create another generation of people just like her, growing up angry and alone and ready to lash out. Would she understand now? Would she be able to look past vengeance and toward what came after? He would probably never find out.

Give yourself up and we can work something out. What you know is enough to buy your life. "Yeah, that's the problem," the Doc muttered. CorpSec wanted the secrets he knew, and he knew he would give them up; he wasn't strong enough to resist black site torture for long. His knowledge had limits - Darkwire was deliberately decentralized, compartmentalized so that one person couldn't bring it all down if captured. Still, there were people he could be forced to betray, assets that could be seized. There would be damage if they broke him.

Damage to the cause... and he couldn't allow that. Not if he could help it.

Doc Painless took a deep, steadying breath. It would be quick, and relatively... well, painless.

A lot better than being tortured into the grave at a black site. He just had to muster up the courage to do it.

"Come on," he said, marshaling his shaking hands. He put the barrel of his blaster under his chin, squeezed his eyes closed.

Come on, do it! Asset denial. Quick and easy. He just had to curl his finger, and this would be over. Come on, Doc. COME ON. DO IT.

Daiya | Sarvod Dravis​

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Objective: In The Pale Sunlight Be a Big Damn Hero for a Girl

• (Optional) Save a Ginger

Equipment: "The Mother Relentless," Akovin Relentless Helm, The Sound of Silence, Darkwire Disruptor, RAW DIG Boots (given to Brie), RAW Ion Encumbrance Rifle, "The Hardpoint" Guild Armor (Average weight jet suit configuration, with High ratings on Kinetics and Blasters, low rating on elemental, with an aftermarket RAW SAS Attachment) and wrist-mounted Carbonite Whipcord Launcher
Comm Status:

1. Holonet & Traditional Commlinks - DOWN - NO MESSAGES RECEIVED
2. Darkwire Tattoo Chat-Relay - UP - Message Received from Brie Jaxx
3. CryptNet - UP and IN RANGE - Message Received from Daiya
4. CorpSec Comm Channel - DOWN - ACCESS REVOKED

Nearby Tags: Brie Jaxx and Cartri Keswoll

Daiya sent out as many messages as she could to her friends via the CryptNet, all with the same desperate plea from a worried teen.

r u ok? u in safehouse? tombs? /Powderpunk

Cassus was bouncing between buildings, looking for anyone recognizable. Vehicles patrolled everywhere, streets were evacuated, and smoke still rose in the air (most of it where the train was detonated, but disturbingly it wasn't the only place burning in the district). Receiving Daiya's message elicited a smirk from the "Rocketeer." He was okay, sure, but anything except safe. The tombs seemed so far away, especially since his safety didn't seem to register to him. If the youth had a little more instinct for self-preservation, maybe he would already be on his way down. Or maybe, he wouldn't be in this mess he made sure to create. Concern for others close to him seemed to be the most significant motivator for Cassus, far above any desire for personal success.

Sending a reply could alleviate Daiya's concern for him by confirming he was alive, yet at the same time, his answer could inspire dread at just how stupid he was staying out searching for anyone caught in a bind. The longer he stayed out and exposed, the more likely he'd be captured. Maybe it was arrogance, but he didn't think he'd be taken alive this time (after so many captures and escapes), so really, if he died, all his knowledge would die with him. Cassus didn't want to die, but there was comfort in the assurance that his sacrifice wouldn't put anyone else in danger.

Cassus' eye itched again, another message through the Tattoo. Immediately he started looking for a place to land. He'd have to make this quick. Their patrols were getting tight. Desperate for cover, Cassus landed on a residential balcony. It looked decent enough for Seven Corners, but it wasn't upper-class. He couldn't tell in a rush, and frankly, Cassus stopped caring. It's not like he was going to kill anyone inside right now. Pulling out his Darkwire Disruptor, Cassus blasted through the balcony door, which immediately disintegrated. Aside from the quick energy burst followed by a short-lived sizzle, the exchange was much quieter than if he had broken through it traditionally.

As he expected, residents were cowering in the dark behind their furniture. They anticipated a break-in or a knock from CorpSec on their front door, not from their elevated balcony. It was a man and a woman, and just as the man was getting up, Cassus let loose two disruptor blasts. Immediately as the energy struck, all of their clothes, hair, and anything else dehydrated, evaporated. The disruptive power coalesced around each couple's bodies and rendered them unconscious in a pile of ash. Except... their underwear appeared to be perfectly fine? This caused Cassus to give the woman a slow double-take checking for modesty as he gave his Disruptor an inspection for deficiencies. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the Disruptor; these two were just very concerned about covering up in the unlikely event they were utterly and totally evaporated into ash. They got lucky then that Darkwire's Disruptor specifically left them alive, so they could look at how stupid they looked investing in something so absurd.

"Weird taste," Cassus mumbled as he found a corner away from windows or doors, allowing himself to go deaf and blind to see the message board.

As Brie threw a look down from the fire escape, a gust of wind catching and messing with her hair, she once again realised how far down it was to the ground. Just then, she came to think of the Darkwire tattoo she had made not that long ago.

<''Guys! If anyone can hear me? It's Brie! Me and Cartri are trapped on the fire escape of the skyscraper next to the train crash site! W-we got something after us... Don't know who or what, but if she comes to... we're pretty screwed! Anyone mobile and can give us a ride?''> she sent across the closed net.

As he came to, he heard the rumble of a gunship outside, and Cassus sat still. Eventually, the hum moved on, but that wasn't why Cassus froze. How could he have failed to consider this possibility? Cassus willed himself out of the dark, motivated by danger to his comrades... and his more-than-comrade. If Cassus had any functional self-preservation instincts, he wouldn't dare circle back to the scene of the crime with security as heavy as it was now. However, if he had any of those instincts, nobody would be in this mess, to begin with. No, Cassus has always been motivated purely by a desire for the safety of others, even at his own expense.

It took precious time to find them, and Cassus could visually see the noose tightening around them. At this point, he was reasonably certain that the exit provided by Madame Mastema ( Dominique Vexx ) had since closed. That left only one direction left to go: down. But now, Cassus flew up as fast as he could manage without drawing attention. It required multiple stops and changes in direction to move inconspicuously. He was running low on resources. If he were spotted, it would be a short-lived firefight. He was still confident he could win on his own, but with the other two factored in... it wasn't a winning strategy.

Finally, he reached them.

"Brie," He called out as he landed on the escape. He glanced at the blood-drenched Cartri, "Shit." He should have guessed that one of them would be injured, given the message's urgency. It certainly made his extraction plan more interesting, if nothing else.

"Okay, listen quickly. There isn't much time left for us, and it's a long way down to the Tombs. You're going to have to trust me," Cassus said, taking off the outer shell of his footwear. He handed Brie his RAW DIG Boots to put on as he continued to explain.

"Those will make you almost weightless, and I can fly. I'm going to grab Cartri, and all of us are going to jump quietly. I'm going to need you to hang on to me. Do. Not. Let. Go." Cassus moved over to scoop up Cartri into his arms (like a princess), careful to avoid putting pressure anywhere on Cartri's gut. He was heavier than expected, but Cassus had enough adrenaline that it didn't matter.

They were about to jump off a building and free fall until they were almost at the bottom. If his timing was off, if any of them lost their grip, if any of them screamed, if anything hit them mid-flight, if anything were waiting for them below, it would be all over.

"Do you trust me?" Cassus said, standing on the edge, waiting to plummet, waiting for Brie to hold on to him.

 

[Under Foot]

TOMB STATION
Midnight Zone
[ garbage truck ] [ blaster pistol ] goggles ]

[ post theme ]​

"Altier! That's genius..."

Genius?

Hex thought he was genius? The Squib's tails started wagging hard enough that the fox-like alien might have gone airborne.

"...and I'm sure my favourite scrap merchant knows where we can eat!"

The tail wagging suddenly stopped. The ears folded back as if he'd suddenly been wounded.

Her favorite scrap merchant? Who was this competition? Undie would destroy their market share and send their profits crash...

Oh.​

​

Oh. Did she mean him?​

The tails drooped, as his ears perked up again with the dawning realization.

Wait. Did that mean..? She wanted to eat... with him?

Like going out to eat?

Like a date?

The Squib swallowed hard, as a panic started to grip him. His pulse quickened, as his heart seemed to simultaneously drop and also lodge in his throat.

"Well, I... uh..." the Squib stammered, trying to find some way to respond that. And failing. Hard.

He'd fallen behind. Hex was asking him something, but all the Squib could hear was the thunder of his own heartbeat as the panic took hold.

"Hex?!"

Saved by the...

...uh, someone running up to hug Hex. But Undie would take it, as it gave him a chance to try and recover. Exhaling a heavy sigh, the Squib found himself out of breath.

Lapsing back into the conversation, the Squib rejoined his companion and her acquaintance. It seemed Hex's tattoo was more than just decoration. He'd had a suspicion about that, but hadn't the opportunity to study it in depth, let alone try to analyze the signal metering.

"I don't have one either," the Squib remarked as consolation.

"I'm actually not sure how tattoos would work with Squib," the fur-covered alien uttered, thinking aloud as he looked down at his arms. Then, turning back up to glance at Emily, added, "It'd be weird to have one patch on an arm that was shaved."

"Think you guys could vouch for me?"

Turning his head, the Squib looked over at Hex.

It was really her decision to make.

Hex Das​