Clusterfrag

Mick leans back with their center of gravity, craning at the waist to try and find any opening into this supposed underground chamber. << Fraggin' nothin'! >> The ork grumbles, frustrated at the diversion down the cliffside. << I don't see drek for getting us underneath this slitch. >> The adept's annoyance with the situation mounts and commingles with the anxiety that at any moment, the clock is gonna start ticking– which, in effect, means it's already ticking. The ork drags their hand over the stony surface of the cliffside, balls their fist, and whacks at it in an impotent display of frustration. One whack becomes two, two become a stronger hit. "God fraggin' dammit," Mick growls to themself, the intensity building in their swing. Without any particular intention or expectation, the adept finds themself putting all their force into punching a cliffside– just like any emotionally mature, highly professional contract killer and thief would.

(( Seems unlikely, but I'm trying to see if I can break through before pulling back from this diversion. ))

Slam. The granite cliff face is an unyielding, stalwart anchor of mother earth. Slam. Pebbles and rock dust billow out around Mick's lithe body, glittering in the sunlight. Slam. Despite Mick's awakened powers, a dull throbbing starts in their knuckles. Slam. A large chunk of the cliff falls free. Slam. A crack appears. Slam. Mick winces as pain lances through their elbow. Slam. Slam. Slam.

Mick's torrent of rage and youthful zest triumph over Alcatraz. A few large slabs of granite careen towards them, which they redirect into the open void. A series of splashing sounds plays prelude to their stunned silence. In the cliffside is now a gaping hole, through which they can see a heavily rusted vent cover. The rocky border of the aperture reveals that this part of the structure was indeed just beneath a few inches of rock.

Up above, on cell block B, Yung peers through his glasses at the shroud on the roof. Thermos confirm that there is heat wafting off of it. The shroud shows nil in astral vision-- just another part of the structure; dead, in-organic.

Taipan gazes down at Mick, eyes widening in deepening concern as the violent display seems to become progressively more untethered from reason -- an event which bears a tinge of familiarity for the old soldier even in the brief stretch of their acquaintance. Respect duels with the concern in Taipan's mind as the rock face gives way before training reasserts itself and filters out the emotions not suited to his current purpose. "Now that's something I never thought I'd see."

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, Taipan casts his eyes over the cliff, trying to recall the hold points used by the more skilled adept on their descent. After a few seconds of study, Taipan attempts to scramble down the cliff to join his unlikely companion.

(( Second Chance on the climbing por favor. ))

Taipan eases himself down the cliff face, utilizing the small contours in the rock pointed out by Mick for hand holds. The going is slow, but he moves with confidence. A few moments later he joins Mick, clutching the rock just adjacent to the now-revealed rusted vent.

Although still in line of sight to the bunker, Yung’s heart rate slowly begins to return to what would best be described as elevated normal. <<Ok, so that might have been a slight overreaction to the something’s up here, it may actually be some kind of vent or exhaust for the building. I’m gonna see if I can get a better look, could provide access from the roof.>>

He proceeds to commando crawl across the roof, making his best attempt at being stealthy in the process. While passing the appendage Yung tries to make a guess about what the structure might be used for based on the dimensions, perhaps an elevator? Once beyond the appendage he briefly pokes his head over the edge of the building to see what lies on the other side. Scouting the opposite gully, in case the team were to find a way to climb around the obstacle.

(( Stealth crawl/move toward the heat exhaust ))

Taipan glances down at the pale dust covering the ork's scarred fists. "Hope you saved some of that for the enemy," he says with only the trace of a grin, though in truth, he has no doubt about it.

Taipan presses an ear to the vent, straining to filter out the sounds of the wind, the ocean, and the remaining scree clattering down the cliff face, trying to detect any sounds coming from inside. Another spherical radar pulse issues from Taipan, painting the interior of the cliff in ghostly, almost abstract relief.

<<GL;HF;DD>> Mouse offers uselessly, pressing her back against the solid brick of the cellblock. She forces a few deeper breaths in a weak attempt to steady herself both physically and mentally at the renewed need to trust in her more athletically capable teammates to do their jobs.

Having little else to contribute, she reopens the window with the physical external camera bay. By her estimates, she should have at least another 15 minutes or so to sit on those and passively soak up data, so she might as well make use of them- or at least confirm that no new patrols have emerged. <<BTW, if the rest of you stragglers want to loop around this way, now might be a good time. If I could make it down here without being noticed, the rest of you should be able to, null sweat.>>

Yung shimmies along the roof on his belly, doing his very best not to make noise. He knocks free a loose brick on his way towards the shroud and winces as it bounces off the side of the cell block. A few moments of tense silent tick by, in which the team's face strains to detect whether they've given the game away. Fortunately, nothing happens.

Now considerably covered in masonry dust, Yung arrives at the shroud. The opening is very small-- several inches wide at its widest. It's angled towards the roof, presumably so that any rain can't enter it. A wave of warm atmosphere rolls against Yung as he hunkers next to it.

Below, Taipan translates the incoming radar readings. There's a significantly large open area beyond the vent cover, presumably some kind of duct system. The radar confirms that the space is empty and continues on further into the island.

"Seems clear. Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes." Taipan produces a crowbar and jams its head between the cliff face and the vent, setting to work on loosening one rivet after another.

<< Preparing for entry down below B. Report from topside and comms bunker teams? >>

A sigh of indignation flows out through Yung’s nostrils, at least he didn’t get his Vashion Island Synergist Line covered in all this drek.

Probably the only good move I made this whole biz.

<<Hate to keep sounding like a 13 year old moment to moment, but once again drek is fragged up here. No ingress, bare minimum exhaust.>> His message stops momentarily before resuming <<Aye, but maybe your little zumbido can get in here, eh Axel? Might be the only way we get some eyes inside.>>

Rolling onto his back, Yung stares up at the blue gray atmosphere stretching out above him. His mind is muddled, searching for a solution to a seemingly impossible problem. Bongoland had been a harlequinesque happenstance, this was serious. His mind continues to wander, eventually finding its way to the almost inconceivable reward, net 50k, from one job. Just then Taipan’s message comes through over comms.

<<Wait, what? You found something down there? Would be nice to get more than a couple words in as many minutes. What the hell you find?>>

With renewed grit and determination, likely spawned out of a desire to not be outdone by Taipan and Mick, Yung refocuses his intentions.

<<Report from up here is, there ain’t jack shit going on; got a biometric lock we all knew about, and a 4 inch wide exhaust pipe on the roof. Not a whole lot in terms of options. I’m a hair's breadth away from kickin bricks off this piece of drek, or pissing down this pipe to see if someone comes out to take a look.>> Yung closes his eyes after relaying the message.

There’s got to be another way, something, anything, THINK.

Axel considers the vent in Whirlwind's camera feed, and then looks up, glancing around the team's position in the gully near cell block B. Going helpless in the open isn't his idea of a good time, but neither is being in fragging Free Cal surrounded by Imperial psychopaths. He blows out a breath, and settles into the hard packed dirt.

"Keep an eye on my meat suit," he says quietly to Reiya, Mouse, and Thoryne. "Probably going to be too bumpy for remote piloting." It's almost an apology.

The world shrinks, and then expands back into a fish-eyed mess of thermal blobs and wireframe ultrasound data overlaid on a ghostly visible-spectrum video feed. He pulls Echo's nose up back toward the cliff face, and then up, climbing toward the open sky. Echo pops above the roofline, revealing Yung's prone form.

<<Coming through.>> He comms as he zips by Yung, and dives into the thermal vent.

The thermal vent is small. Extremely small. It takes intense concentration on Axel's part to navigate Echo into the opening. He ignores an environmental heat warning and shakes off the alarm. Touching the sides of the vent could spell trouble for the tiny drone. The way forward is slow and precise, like rigger surgery.

It's what a contortionist must feel like, Axel muses. He's forced to retract Echo's legs at regular intervals, pitch sideways, and watch the wingspan at all time. The vertigo would probably floor a regular person-- but not Axel. Even amid the blistering temperatures and the claustrophobic confines of the vent, he's more comfortable here than in meat-space.

After a grueling exercise in aerial acrobatics, Echo pops out of the interior portion of the vent. The fish-eye view affords Axel a good look at what the vent was connected to: an autoclave. The large device seems to be idling, thankfully, otherwise the drone would have been cooked and Yung would no longer have a face. Echo hovers down towards a tempered viewing window in the autoclave's door, marking several sets of surgical tools on a lower rack. Once in position, he observes the interior outside of the autoclave.

Cell block B is considerably larger than A, and the layout is different. The cages here are bolted to the floor. From his vantage, Axel can make out several prisoners lying prone on cots within the cages. A catwalk runs along an elevated portion of the floor, and there are several guards with tablets making rounds. The view afforded from the inside of the autoclave doesn't provide much else, even with the drone pressed up against the glass.

As Axel examines the room, an older Nipponese man in a lab coat walks past the glass, accompanied by a soldier in the dress uniform of the Imperial army. They seem to be conversing, but the autoclave is hermetically sealed, thus rendering them silent in the feed.

~

Outside, Taipan easily pries the vent cover free. The metal square (almost entirely rusted) wheels out and drops into the Pacific. The space in the cliff is now a dark portal, through which any human-sized (or smaller) person could conceivably fit.

The smell beyond the vent opening is musty, damp, and dark. Mick exchanges a glance with Taipan as a wave of cool, still air reacts to the pressure differential and floods past them out into the crisp morning air of The Bay. "You're pretty handy with a vent. If you ever decide to give up on the life of a paid killer, you might have a future in HVAC." The ork offers a slight grin before reaching a hand inside the vent and pulling themself forward through it.

<<So, obviously entering through that vent is out of the question, but more importantly… NANI THE FUCK???>>

Mouse accompanies this professional and tactful missive with a still from Echo’s footage, in which she’s superimposed glaring, emphatic arrows to indicate the rows of conspicuous surgical tools visible from the autoclave. With no one nearby to witness her current look of disgust, she can only hope the imagery speaks for itself.

<<I hate to say it, but this is a good reminder that we don’t actually know anything about the current condition of our targets. We can only hope they’re still unscathed, but we won’t know for sure until we see the databases… or more accurately, see them for ourselves.>>

She shoots a hard glare toward the brick wall jutting into the gully, as though trying to bore a hole through her sheer force of spite. <<Maybe we should just blow a fragging hole in this place. Sure, it’ll give away our position, but it’d get us inside and make for a good morale boost.>>

Zal's voice crackles across the comms. The main hump of the island is degrading the point-to-point radio system. << The uplink has been severed. We waited as long as we could, but there was a heartbeat signal less than a minute ago, so that's our window. You've got an hour and a half to find the prisoners. My team will work on a backup exfil. I'll keep you posted. >>

Axel's blood runs cold at the sight of the surgical tools.

<<Yeah. Drek. The rest of you seeing this?>> He comms out as the soldier and besmocked Nipponese man walk past. <<Gonna just check on one more thing. But I'm guessing this block is where we need to start the show.>>

With a twitch of an eye, the controls for the laser microphone appear in his vision. He aims Echo at the autoclave's window, activates the microphone, and listens.

Taipan's face twists in a wry grin at Mick's jibe, while a far recessed part of his mind tries to imagine what life would be like if he'd instead walked the path of an HVAC technician -- it sounds easier, if slightly boring. Fewer thrills, yet fewer regrets. Not a soul treads on green grass. Not one that he's met anyway.

The apertures of his cybereyes dilate to drink in the darkness as Taipan wriggles through the opening after Mick, his rifle snapping into position as soon as his boots touch the ground. Instinctively, he taps the ork on the shoulder to signal his readiness.

<< We're inside. Advancing. >>

The diffraction from the tempered glass, as well as the ambient buzzing from the autoclave diminish the laser microphone's ability. The resulting audio is heavily garbled and Axel struggles to make sense of it.

"--results that are ---------- so if you ------ provide more ----- I can ----- ------- timetable," says the man in the lab coat.

"With ------ to --------, I have ------ caution. Too much ------- will raise ----cion and Saito-taisho ------- we -------- finished."

The man in the lab coat frowns and folds his arms. "You ------ be ------sated. This oper------- must -------."

The two speakers move out of range and their conversation devolves into white noise.

Axel listens to the pair speak until they're out of range. Taipan's message comes in just then.

Yeah, time to stop fragging about.

He disengages from the small window, and guides the drone back up the exhaust vent before disconnecting and returning to his meat body.

<<We should be ready to breach the cellblock if Taipan and Mick find a back door.>>

Taipan shuffles through the narrow vent, hunched over and leading with his weapon. The confines reek of earth, sulfur and the acerbic aroma of rust. He brushes away about a dozen cobwebs in the course of navigating deeper. It's a tight squeeze, but the cramped conditions are somehow comforting-- he only needs to deal with what's directly ahead. No snipers, and Mick at his back.

About eight meters in, the vent opens up into a broad chamber. It reminds Taipan of a concrete mausoleum. The walls are fractured and covered in moss. Antiquated equipment lies scattered, some far too rusted to even discern. The only items that look relatively new are a military cot in one corner and a chain-link enclosure in the other. The enclosure seems to be a type of storage area, and the gate has several old-school padlocks adorning it. At the far end of the chamber, a concrete staircase heads up to a large trap door.

The basement, being installed in the middle of the island's stone, is deathly quiet. Taipan can only hear his and Mick's breathing, as well the subtle trickle of groundwater seeping through cracks.

Yung closes his eyes after Mouse shares the superimposed image, choosing instead to listen while trying to think of some kind of approach that makes sense. With the addition of Zal’s sitrep, flanked by the suggestion of blowing our way in and eagerness to start the show, it feels as though this pot is about to boil over. Normally this would be a welcome moment, but given his situation it is not exactly ideal.

<<Oi, so there’s two things I love, blowing shit up and making bad decisions, yeah. Don’t think anyone would argue with that. Still, gotta say I’m a little on the fence about potentially putting our hoops in the fire goin that loud.>> He rolls back onto his stomach, opening his eyes once again as he crawls to the ledge that would provide him a view of the opposite side of the appendage. As he peers over he prays for some kind of miracle, an auxiliary door, a window, a vent, something that he can offer up as an alternative to blowing a hole in the building.

(( One final perception check on the opposite side of the appendage before the party starts ))

Yung sidles over to the edge of the roof and sticks his head out, surveying the space behind the appendage. It's identical to the opposite side. The strange protrusion is a simply a large cube-shape that extends from the building like a tumor and sinks into the cliff face. If he knew anything about architecture, this puzzle might be a bit easier to solve.

The team has thus far bypassed underwater shock pads and mines, CIWS turrets, bays of old school cams and thermal sensors, two fragging kuroikaze and one odd mook, only to be bested by… a brick wall.

Admittedly, this feels like a real low point.

<<There’s two places we don’t have eyes on: one last window up top, and the front side of the building, facing the road.>> She illustrates this with a still of the remaining window up top, its shadowy outline highlighted for emphasis. <<Once we have insight into those two spots, we can at least confirm that we’re entirely out of good ideas and start running with the bad ones. As much as I hate to eat even more of Echo's bandwidth, if it could take the top window, we could always send Boo around front just for the basic perimeter check.>>

At the mention of the vent where Yung had inadvertently overshot his anticipated landing, he suddenly remembers that he had intended to take a closer look. Unfortunately he was so pumped full of adrenaline and ego that it completely slipped his mind. <<Oh yeah, I don’t mind taking a peek, seeing how I don’t really have any other options.>>

He once again begins shuffling his way across the rooftop, back toward where he originally ascended. I am so fraggin glad I didn’t bring my suit. Upon arriving in the general vicinity of his landing area, he thinks twice about poking his head over to take a look before reaching for his satchel. After fishing around for a few seconds he produces an endoscope. <<Ha! Actually a tool appropriate for the job.>> He extends the myomeric cable through the vent in an attempt to get a better vantage on what lies within Cell Block B.

<<Side note, I used to wonder how cats got stuck up in trees and couldn’t get down. Well, seems I have finally answered one of life’s great mysteries.>>

Yung gingerly eases the coiled endoscope over the edge of the roof and slowly feeds it through the narrow gap beneath the roof. Referencing the feed on his mask's eyepiece, he surveys the inside of cell block B.

There are ten cages spread throughout the cell block, each containing a cot and a bucket. Nine of the ten cages are occupied, though all of the occupants appear either asleep or unconscious. Yung counts five hostiles: three guards dressed in fatigues, the man in the lab coat, and the officer in uniform. There's a stack of equipment, a few desks, and a terminal in one corner. The opposite corner contains some machines, one of which is the autoclave. Yung can't decide if it looks like the world's worst prison or the world's worst hospital. He marks the guards-- all equipped with submachine guns and stun batons. Lightly armored, at least.

He feeds more of the endoscope through, to get a look at the wall he's leaning over. There's more equipment stacked against the wall, and a railing that feeds along a staircase descending below ground level.

None of the occupants of cell block B seem to notice the endoscope. Yung says a silent prayer to whichever god might be listening.

Yung relays what he sees for those who might not be paying attention to the shared feed as he slowly withdraws the endoscope. <<Hey A-team, you seeing this? Not sure if you’ve found much in the way of an entry point, but if you do manage to find a way in to the building above, it looks like you’re gonna come out here.>> He puts an AR marker on the staircase leading down, noting that it is conveniently located opposite the entrance to the building.

<<If we set off some kind of explosion to try and blow in through the back side, it could have the unfortunate side effect of drawing them right to where Taipan and Mick may be emerging.>> As he muddles over a way to draw the occupants out through the front door, a realization slowly dawns on him.

<<So, I’m no geologist, wait, seismologist? Whatever you get the point. But isn’t like most of the west coast on some kinda earthquake line?>> He returns the endoscope to his satchel, and looks out over the San Francisco Bay as a smile slowly creeps across his face.

<<Now this is just a thought, and I understand we got a couple teammates underground, but what if we asked our new spirit friend to give the building a little shake? Maybe just enough to make them wanna evacuate out the front door. We can swoop in as they leave and Mick and Taipan can hit em from behind.>>

<<Wiz little camera you’ve got there. Probably the most exciting thing you’ve ever whipped out.>> The decker’s enthusiasm for the device is genuine, with the new footage eliciting a rare, snaggle-toothed grin.

<<Now, correct me if I’m way off base, but most people run away from explosions. If we hit the back, that would make the most obvious evac route the front door.>> She laces her fingers in thought, as she mentally maps each scenario onto her newfound imagery from the cellblock. <<...and unless our hair-eating chummer is capable of some serious precision, I wouldn’t risk shaking a structurally unsound building while our teammates are underneath.>> Her expression tightens at the sheer amount of diplomacy she’s managing, as well as her own mounting concerns about the lack of good alternatives. This is one scenario where she would rather be wrong, and at least some small part of her is eager for one of the more magically experienced folks to tell her why her anxieties are unfounded.

<<If we need plausible deniability, we could try and fake some catastrophic autoclave failure. I’ve heard of ghosts haunting machinery before, and we’ve got a bunch of perfectly good smoke grenades that might do the trick. But at this stage, I’m not sure how much deniability will help.>> Her visible frustration has returned at full force, and she gives her head a hard shake, as though trying to clear it from her own thoughts. <<At least if we punch a new hole, that gives us one more angle of attack: one down below, one in the back, and one up front when they open up their mouth- (by which I mean the blast door.)>>

<<Hey now, just because something runs on batteries doesn’t make it more interesting, contrary to your personal preference. I’ll admit it is little, but that’s a far cry from all the bookoo I heard growing up.>> Yung briefly removes his mask while staring down at the top of Mouse’s head, waiting for her to look up so he can stick his tongue out. The kind of strange cathartic schoolyard antics he never had as a child, somehow now is the most appropriate time.

<<As to your question, you are partly correct. The doctors and staff will probably evacuate, but the military folks will likely train those SMGs at whatever comes through the breach.>> He begins bouncing his head from side to side, a physical manifestation of weighing the various suggestions against one another.

<<You know, that autoclave idea isn’t a bad one. At the very least I think they’d send someone out of the building and we could try to sneak in as they leave. Wouldn’t cause actual damage (hopefully) so wouldn’t alert the rest of the island. If someone tosses me a smoke nade I’m game to shove it down their throat (by which I mean vent).>>

Thoryne chuckles into the comms; a sound like gravel in an industrial blender.

<< Shit, now you're speaking my language. I got a couple flash-bangs we could use, but might I recommend some vintage dynamite? It's a little harsh on the palate, but the finish is positively explosive. >>

The big troll flashes a fanged grin at Mouse, whom he's crouched beside.

Axel waves his hand in a "come hither" motion, and Whirlwind descends from its hover just above the roof.

"Big guy, if you've the goods, I can get it up there." He says quietly.

Like cup-noodle soup for the soul…

Even Mouse, in her hikkikomori heart, is a sucker for this exact kind of moment: an ideal blend of teamwork, meat jokes, and high explosives. As soon as Thoryne offers the dynamite, her formerly pressing concerns over her own life, or the war crimes she’s just witnessed, are pushed at least temporarily aside, replaced with a visible glee. <<Ooh, I was gonna volunteer my smoke grenades, but something with a little more pepper would be…>> she finishes this thought with a pantomimed chef’s kiss. <<After all, we’ll still need enough boom to catch their attention.>>

It doesn’t hurt that this crackpot combination of ideas is looking almost like a plan. Whether from the adrenaline of impending action, or the pure excitement of getting to see something blow up, the decker’s newfound energy translates into a rapidfire bounce of her weight from foot to foot, in a manner befitting an overeager pup. <<We’ll make a lot of fuss, then be in and done in less than a minute- the way Yung always does it.>> She beams upward at the adept, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of tongue where his mask would normally be. Only emboldened by this act of rebellion, she returns fire, dragging down one eyelid for childish emphasis. <<Just make sure you get it in before it explodes, ne? If it goes off in your hands, don’t count on us to clean you up.>>

A quiet squish echoes off the stone walls as Taipan's boot treads softly down into a puddle of water. He stops for a moment, absorbing every sound as he scans for signs of danger. Taipan advances toward the trap door, glancing up at Yung's ARO to ensure they're headed in the right direction. On his way by the storage cage, he leans close to the chain link to peer inside and draws in a deep breath through the nose. He stops just underneath the trap door to send an ultrasonic ping through the barrier.

Taipan moves through the dank basement, silently amused at his teammates' conversation. He glances through the chain-link, using his augmented vision to glean the particulars. The storage cage seems to contain a wide array of metallic canisters. The vessels look squat little shiny torpedoes with pressure valves and regulators on top. He leans in to make out a faint, embossed stamp on the closest.

1556N FCSM CN-30 NERVE AGENT - HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE - 3CR MFR ARES WPN TCH INC

Up above, Thoryne tucks a pinch of snuff in his cheek and squints thoughtfully. "If we do this, placement is everything. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we're going for diversion and not collateral injury, eh? Don't wanna pump any innocents full of shrapnel. "

As his eyes scan the relief of the embossed lettering on the gas cylinders, Taipan's muscles freeze momentarily as neurons refuse to fire despite the augmented bandwidth of his central nervous system. << Mouse... that comment you made before about aerosol delivery... we've got cylinders of Ares nerve agent down here -- fragging lots of it. >>

Taipan's features twist into a rictus of scorn as the potential implications of the discovery enumerate themselves in his mind, every one a hateful display of ruthless cowardice. He spits into the puddle next to his boot. << Our primary objective comes first, but In case anyone was looking for a reason not to hold back on these fuckers, I think we just found it. >>

Striding to the trap door with a renewed sense of purpose, Taipan examines the hatch, applying the slightest pressure to see if it will open freely. << Ready down below. >>

(( I'm kind of assuming that this trap door is the path roughly painted by Yung's ARO, and that it's the right ambush spot to pinch in on some fokkers. If that's not the case, let me know and I'll edit. ))

Thoryne grunts, plucking a dead leaf from the gully and systematically picking it apart. "Dynamite's liable to cavitate the thing, probably make some pretty nasty shrapnel. If some poor sod opens the door, you got a shape charge. Distraction... distraction..."

He reaches into his vest and withdraws a foil packet. Being as tender as his oversized fingers allow, he unwraps the parcel and pinches off a piece of material. Next, he withdraws two flash-bang grenades and gloms them together, using the explosive as a binder. The piece de resistance is a length of his own boot-lace, which he cuts free with a combat knife and uses to lash the whole thing tight.

"It's called an Istanbul Surprise. Don't ask me 'bout the name, I got no clue. It'll make quite a fireball-- which means, lots of smoke."

Thoryne hands the improvised device to Axel, as one would hand someone their newborn child.