Clusterfrag

Axel carefully takes the twin grenades from Thoryne with all the care of a golden retriever picking up a baby bird. He then proceeds to stoop down, freeing a twig from from the dirt, and affixes it to the putty between the flash bang grenades, so that it sticks out between them. He admires his sculpture for a moment, before unwinding a bit of duct tape from his assortment of toolkits and affixing it to Whirlwind.

<<Hey Akela, got your "package" here. Time to play 30 seconds in heaven. You know what to do.>>

He twirls his finger, and points to the roof where Yung is waiting, and Whirlwind dutifuly takes flight.

The diminutive decker gives Whirlwind a mock-salute as the twig and explosive berries are lifted skyward.

Admittedly, without the supervision of their makeshift ops-lead, the surface-team feels less like a quasi-competent paramilitary group, and more like a gaggle of teenage vandals. Still, even Mouse is aware how much precision and honest luck they’ll need to pull this off, and lacking any leadership experience of her own, she tries to imagine what Taipan would do. As she does, she finds herself subconsciously straightening up her posture and clenching ever so slightly at the imaginary stick up her own hoop.

<<If we’re delivering this payload, the rest of us should get into position around the corner. We’ll have a very narrow window to move before they slam the door in our faces… or catch us loitering. As soon as we’ve confirmed it’s clear up front, I’ll reboot, and clear my accesses for the approach.>> The facade doesn’t last, and the instant she pictures Yung with the ‘Turkish Surprise,’ the childish little smirk creeps its way back to the corners of her mouth. <<Remember to gently cup the base. Maybe give it a couple practice dips into the vent before you let go.>>

<<And don't forget to turn and cough.>> Axel adds helpfully.

Yung’s hands begin to perspire, quite uncharacteristically. The playful attitude and banter that transpired only moments before is swept away by the anxiety inducing reality that the situation is about to get real. Certainly an odd reaction considering he’s lying on a rooftop in the middle of a military blacksite. Nonetheless, for whatever reason now is the moment the gravitas of the situation really begins to catch up with him, at least on some subconscious level.

He attempts to brush away the apprehensive discomfort, knowing deep down that he performs best when maintaining a devil-may-care attitude. <<Hey, so this is gonna sound weird, but jumping off the roof of an exploding building, it’s one of the things on my bucket list. Big man you’re telling me this pepper ain’t gonna have no pop? Guess I’m gonna have to save that dream for another day then, eh?>>

He carefully collects the IED from the drone hovering in front of him, then once again begins to crawl across the rooftop back toward the vent. As he arrives at the vent he sends out another message, <<By the way, totally called it on the zombie virus, whaddya think these fragsticks are up to with that? Trying to create some kind of bio-weapon that only targets non-Nipponese genetics?>>

He assesses the vent opening once again, gauging whether the package will fit in the opening and through the L-shaped bend in the vent so that it will drop a little closer to the autoclave before it goes off. <<I’m in position and about ready, just checking one last thing before I impregnate this slitch. Get ready to move when I release this load.>>

Thoryne scratches his nose. "So assumin' they come rushing out the front door, what's the play? Shooting gallery, or do we want some alive to interrogate?"

After gingerly attempting to gauge whether the improvised explosive will fit into the vent, Yung lets out an audible sigh over comms, followed by a series of tuts. <<Well, we got a bit of a problem, and I’ve got to say it’s something I’ve been hearing my whole life. It’s too big, bookoo...>> The statement is followed by a moment of silence across comms.

<<Luckily, because I deal with this kind of thing so frequently, I’ve learned how to address the problem. You should never leave anyone on the precipice of excitement but be unable to perform.>> During the process of monologuing unnecessarily, Yung sets down the Istanbul Surprise and begins fishing though his satchel, quickly locating a piece of equipment.

At what point does one take a joke too far? Well beyond what is necessary to make the audience laugh, instead ending up in the realm of mild discomfort? Whatever that point is, Yung doesn’t waste time pondering such things. He takes the device deftly in one hand while lifting his waistband with the other, quickly inserting it into his pants.

<<I’m switching on my feed so y’all can coordinate your approach.>> Yung shares the feed from his Renraku Sensei with the group. He’s laying flat on his back with his video feed pointed at the Istanbul Surprise, which sits on the rooftop adjacent to exhaust vent jutting from the rooftop like an antiquated mailbox.

The point of view shifts as he lifts his head, looking down towards his feet. His hands extend into frame, grabbing the end of his belt and unclasping it before dexterously unbuttoning the top button of his pants. It all happens so fast. He reaches into his pants and slowly pulls out a miniwelder. <<Now Mouse, I know you can’t help getting excited when I whip out interesting things, but don’t trip over your panties when the time comes to get into position, ne?>>

He refastens his pants before activating the miniwelder. <<Alright so precision is key here.>> He says, as he moves the blue-white electric arc towards the side of the vent. <<What you want to do is move it slowly around in a circle, but make sure to double back once or twice and focus on the key areas.>> He focuses the miniwelder at the bottom of the circle, flicking it back and forth quite unnecessarily. A noticeable hot spot begins to form. <<Ah, see right there, you wanna be careful with that, don’t wanna get it so hot it melts before the job is done eh?>> He resumes moving the welder in a circle, finally breaking through the wall of the vent in several places. <<Now that it’s nice and hot you wanna apply some pressure, but make sure you’re quick, otherwise you could miss your window.>> A knife comes into view, which Yung uses to push the circular cutout slowly producing an opening just larger than the Istanbul Surprise.

<<Ah, yeah, see that? She’s ready.>> He withdraws the knife, quickly placing it back in his satchel along with the miniwelder. <<Most of the time I charge for that kind of thing, but just this once it’s probono. Now normally in this situation I’d ask for consent, but in this case I’d say we all have an inclination to frag these slitches; so I’m gonna start with just the tip.>> The perspective shifts to the Istanbul Surprise, still sitting on the rooftop. Yung’s right hand comes into view holding a grenade, after a moment in view he pulls the pin then drops it down the vent hole. He immediately turns back and picks up the Istanbul Surprise, placing fingers in the rings of the pins of the two flashbangs. <<Let’s make a baby!>> He says as he pulls the pins from the flashbangs, dropping it into the opening. As soon as he does this his video cuts out and he begins rolling away as quickly as possible.

Now that the Uplink’s been severed, the countdown timer has already begun, and absolutely every minute is going to prove crucial if the team’s going to escape this island alive.

At least this is a good use of their time.

Mouse stifles a snort at Yung’s narration, and the entirely self-serving nature of this new ‘problem.’ <<That's a whole lot of words for “I don’t know what lube is for.”>> She folds her arms, cocking her head in feigned judgment. <<...Seriously, you just tried to jam it in dry?>>

The sass quiets substantially, however, the instant Yung starts recording. Her narrowed eyes go momentarily saucer-wide at the images streaming across her retinas, the familiar audio cues of belt and buttons practically serving as a dog-whistle to the netnerd. A keen ear might catch a slight hitch in her breath at the reveal of the miniwielder… but for better or for worse, it’s the addition of the knife that breaks the spell, drawing out a visible cringe as Mouse has to turn her head away from the show.

<<Right, so… First priority (besides not-dying) is just getting through the front door without alerting any additional staff to the disturbance. We can neutralize the guards or other loose ends however necessary. We’ll have an easier time freeing our chummers if we’re not actively under fire.>> She swallows hard, her attention flitting from Thoryne’s question toward the inscrutable Reiya, trying to suss out how the shaman is handling this, particularly the implication of the ongoing medical experiments on the black site. Unfortunately, with Yung primed to release his load, there’s no time left for investigation or philosophical questioning. <<Ryoukai. Let’s make some bad decisions.>>

(( Assuming none of the cameras/sensors she’s been sitting on are facing the front of B/where the team will be emerging, assume Mouse will do a full reboot of her own deck to free it up for go-time. ))

The flashbang makes a hollow clunking noise as it travels down the heat vent and into the autoclave. Yung is too busy focusing on the delivery of the second surprise to listen. He rolls back to the center of the roof and covers his ears, making sure to face away from the vent to avoid blowback.

It starts with a muffled pop, like a circuit breaker tripping. The sound is barely even audible over the crashing waves of the Pacific ocean. A couple seconds later, a much larger bang follows, followed by a flare of orange light.

Yung tentatively removes his hands from his ears. He turns his head in time to witness smoke billowing from the gaps beneath the roof. A chorus of panicked cries, both in English and Nipponese echo from inside the cell block.

Mere moments later, the reinforced blast door rumbles in its frame and begins to retract.

Axel calls Whirlwind back down to earth to join its two siblings along with the team. He draws his Morrisey Alta from its concealed holster, and aims it at the door.

<<Allright kids, time to put your dancing shoes on.>>

With smoke billowing out of the exhaust vent, Yung realizes that remaining on the rooftop is not the ideal location given the line of sight with the bunker. He rolls to the edge of the roof near where he originally landed on his ascent. He quickly looks over, confirming that his teammates are waiting below, before slowly sliding off the edge of the roof while holding onto the edge with both hands. <<Heads up, just in case. Catch me if I fall, k Big Man?>>

He fishes around with his feet in an attempt to find a purchase on the vent before attempting to drop back down to the gully and rejoin his allies.

(( Gymnastics climbing to find footing on the vent below the rooftop. If successful, drop down and use that as the next ledge to hang off before jumping down to the gully. Couple gymnastics checks maybe? ))

Mick glides wordlessly through the chamber beneath Cell Block B. The cot in the corner is curious to the ork– a place for a break for a an overworked xenocidal jackboot? Go catch a few winks on your ten-minute break, don't mind the poison in the corner? The adept slips past the cot, reaching a hand out to ruffle a blanket balled up at its foot, investigating.

As the chatter comes over the comm, Mick feels a mighty rumble gurgle through the concrete foundation around them as the team's IED explodes in the guts of the autoclave somewhere up above the basement chamber. << Advancing up the stairs. See you shitheads soon. >> Swiftly, the ork moves in a hurried semi-crouch toward the stairs, taking them two at a time quickly, quietly. Mick is hardly aware of the smile playing at the corners of their lips as they sing to themself under their breath: "I'm gonna put on.. my-my-my-my-my boogie shoes... bwahhhhh-bump.. b'bwahhhhh-bump."

The light and the flare of the flashbang together bring Reiya back to the present moment. Over what feels like hours, but is probably only minutes, she’s been trying to figure out what she can actually do and when. She’ll call on Sanasatasamara when it’s time, but she somehow knows that the time is not yet. When she hears about the medical experiments, her mind seethes with a mix of anger, horror and a small morsel of hope that this is what she’s been looking for. This could be where the strain of VITAS that killed her people was made. Vengeance could be closer than she thought, and she exalts, emotions clouding her reason.

The bang restores her to herself, and she focuses on the door, mind calm, ready.

The blast door isn't even halfway open when a cloud of smoke comes billowing out. Following in the wake are two of the guards and the officer. One of the guard seems to have caught the brunt of the blast and doubles over, hacking coughs racking his body. The other guard has a weapon drawn and is surveying the immediate area.

The officer clears his throat, rubbing soot from his face.

"Go wake up those off-shift and find a medic. I'll do my best for the doctor until then," he commands. The coughing guard nods weakly and stumbles towards the path to the plateau.

"Sabotage?" asks the suspicious guard.

The officer shrugs. "This equipment is old, but anything is possible. Go check the perimeter, I have to get back to the doctor."

Yung lands on the balls of his feet with practiced grace, using his left hand as an added brace against the impact. He springs up immediately, scanning the faces of his four teammates as he quickly begins moving to the corner of Cell Block B accelerating with each step. By the time he reaches the edge of the building he's running, skidding slightly as he rounds the corner.

His eyes narrow behind his wolf mask, focusing on the three targets that come into view. He shows no hesitation as he moves to close in on the targets. <<Assaulting!>>

(( Initiative? Or shall I state my intention? ))

Amid the roiling black smoke, cell block B explodes into a flurry of action.

At the clamor unfolding above, Mick works at stealthily opening the trap door.

The trapdoor lifts a few inches and Mick is met with a face-full of noxious smoke. The cell block is a haze-- the bulk of the smoke trapped by the poor ventilation. The orange glow of flames emanates from somewhere in the miasma. From Mick's position they can make out a few meters in front of them, which includes a few cages. Their occupants have rolled from their beds to escape the smoke, and lie languid on the concrete floor.

Mick spies a pair of silhouettes at the terminus of their vision, one lying prone and another kneeling over them. It's not hard to deduce that the pair must be one of the guards and the doctor the team spied earlier.

The whole chamber is chaos and pandemonium, and in that the ork sees an opening. Mick slips through the trap door opening, careful not to let it slam behind them.

(( Free action: plague cloud. Beyond that I'd like to sneak as close to them as I can with a simple action. ))

A slimy ichor begins to ooze from Mick's pores, bubbling and hissing as it becomes gaseous and mingles with the smoke. The adept props the trap door open for Taipan and skitters forward on hands and knees, approaching the kneeling figure.

Outside, Reiya leans around the corner. Her eyes flick to the fleeing guard and her crossbow comes up. The bolt snaps loose and whistles through the air, landing just short of the fleeing guard.

The officer's eyes follow the reverse trajectory of the crossbow bolt and widen as they meet Reiya. He fumbles for his side-arm and draws it, then fires a single shot at her. Reiya pulls back and the shot hits the edge of the cell block. She grimaces as brick dust rains down on her.

The wary guard with his weapon out follows suit, spraying automatic fire at the corner where Reiya is taking cover. Reiya flashes a maniacal grin before ducking back behind the wall, which rapidly deteriorates under the barrage of automatic fire.

As the trio of soldiers acknowledge Yung’s presence by reaching for their sidearms and taking aim, he responds to the greeting with a renewed sense of self preservation. Rather than charging into the fray as planned, he quickly moves to dash back behind the cover provided by the corner of the building. But with even more stellar swiftness, Reiya draws her crossbow and fires off a bolt, providing herself and Yung the moment of cover fire needed to return to safety. A hail of gunfire follows, painting the corner of the building in yellow and causing errant bits of brick to ricochet to the ground harmlessly.

While he is best be described as young, dumb, and full of fun, Yung is not a complete idiot. Rather than risk getting caught fully exposing himself, he decides a more measured approach is in order. He pulls out his familiar friend, the Ares Predator, which was so wrongly diminished in the eyes of Zal prior to the mission. “We’ll show 'em, eh?” It’s unclear the ‘em to whom he’s referring with the question.

Yung gently applies some pressure to Reiya’s shoulder with his free hand. Silently asking her to kneel down, in an effort to line up a shot around the edge of the building, before returning to the safety of cover.

(( Move to the edge of the building, pop out and shoot the furthest soldier before ducking back behind the wall. Smart Link, APDS. ))

Yung fires a shot from his Ares Predator, which zips past the guard's shoulder and ricochets off of a boulder. The guard stumbles and jukes in response, but keeps on running.

Taipan leaps forward into the fray, following the swirling eddies of smoke that mark Mick's passage just seconds prior. The acrid smoke stings his eyes as he lurches forward, and he idly wonders why Shiawase hadn't edited out that particular sensation in their line of cybereyes. Probably for that natural feel, but damn if it wasn't a fragging inconvenience in the present moment.

Letting the rifle fall behind him on its sling as he bounds through the smoke, he steadies the sheath of his sword with one hand with the other clenched overhand around the grip. The blade flashes from the sheath, hardly disturbing the surrounding smoke as its monofilament edge cleaves through the atmosphere toward the guard kneeling over the hapless patient.

Taipan is a specter in the smoke, little more than a vague outline amidst the roiling brume. The katana sings as it cuts through the air. The kneeling guard falls backward with a startled gurgle, a gigantic gash across his chest. A fountain of blood spurts up, raining back down to cover the unconscious doctor.

The wounded guard's eyes lull in their sockets and he hacks up a crimson spatter. He is seriously wounded, but still alive.

Up until this point, Axel could imagine there being some small sliver of possibility that the team could pack it up, and just go home without firing a shot on the island. The false calm and peacefulness of the buzz of insects going about their lives under the Free Cal sun gave the teams' trek across the small island a feeling of quiet, like they were just picking out a spot for the picnic. That moment has passed. Like a rollercoaster that has ratcheted up to its apex, leaving its terrified and thrilled riders no choice but to just hold on and see it through.

Axel doesn't have to glance at the status messages from the Three Amigos to discern from the rise in rapid servo clicking from the turrets that the three drones' IFF systems have taken particular interest in the gunfire. "Alright, kids," he says, the unnecessary anachronism of speech serving to ready the trio of drones for a command. Doug seems to straighten up, and Wind and Whirlwind cease their light bobbing, and seem to almost lock into place in the air, indifferent to the vagaries of the wind. The machines are poised for their grim task, ready for a word to permanently change the course of metahuman lives. Such is the seriousness and severity of the business about to be conducted, that only the clearest, most reverent of language should—

"Sic Balls," he finishes, before squeezing off a shot at the nearest goon.

(( Semi-auto burst if I have the actions for it. And a refresher: all drones have Pilot 3, and all Autosofts are level 4. They also all have smartlinks. ))

"...but I don’t feel like dancin'..."

The words that escape are so soft as to be nearly inaudible amongst the hail of gunfire, as Mouse stares, wide-eyed, at the absolute chaos that’s broken out. Her modus operandi has generally involved doing everything in her power to not be drawn on, and, at least up until… literally right now, she’s been awfully successful at that. As her comrades dive into the fray, there’s a fleeting moment in which Mouse envisions an outcome in which she heroically draws her Ares Predator to jump in alongside them, adding her own small contribution to the volley of bullets passing between the parties.

...That doesn't happen. The unfortunate, ugly truth is that Mouse is an utter coward, who has survived this long explicitly by not getting shot. As soon as this reality sinks in, she instead presses herself further into the solid brick wall, instead drawing upon the shared feeds from her team and weaponized paranoia: seeking out each potential threat before them, and calculating out the angles and trajectories from which they could find themselves even more vulnerable.

(( Interrupt Action: “I Am the Firewall” (Bonus should apply to: Mouse, Axel, Taipan, Thoryne, Yung) ))

For those with immediate access to AR, a new phenomena dominates their immediate vision: a ghostly wire-frame, painted over the surroundings. The weapons held by the hostiles are outlined in red, and possible trajectories, cover and danger zones are high-lighted in various colors. The simulation adapts as the action unfolds, warning each user of lines of fire and possible avenues of retreat. A tiny Mouse skull and crossbones in the corner clearly establishes who this new tool is courtesy of.

Axel says something, but the words are lost in the thunderous din of automatic fire. First, Doug leans upright and fires a volley from the mounted Frontier. The fleeing guard jukes to the side as the sand around his feet explode. Wind swoops in, machine-pistol chattering and Hashimoto jerks as a few rounds riddle his torso. Blood stains the sand and he staggers, staring in disbelief at the hell raining from the sky. Finally, Whirlwind rises from behind the cell block. The Ares Alpha's multiple reports echo harshly along the cliffsides. Miura attempts to fall back, but steps right into the firing line and catches a bullet in the shoulder.

Inside, Ikeda staggers to a standing position, blood still coursing down his fatigues. He eyes the two intruders that have materialized in the smoke and lifts his hands. "M-matte yo... ikenai..."

Outside, Miura yelps in pain, grasping the wound on his shoulder. He retreats inside and slams the door controls, causing the blast door to rumble and begin to close. The look of betrayal on Hashimoto's face is one for the ages.

Axel marvels at the sounds and the chaos, the sight of bright blood and the tangy odor of cordite. The drones enacted the violence, but he gave the order. He pushes these thoughts to the side and turns his gaze on the man who shot at his crew. His elbow rattles as the firearm in his hand discharges multiple times.

The officer takes a round in the stomach, one in the torso, and the third one in the forehead. His body stiffens and falls backward, lifeless, thin tendrils of grey smoke drifting from the holes.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Thoryne exclaims, invigorated by the sudden escalation of violence as Axels drones activate their combat prowess in tandem. He'd privately wondered if the amount of fussing and effort Axel had put into dragging the large bots-in-bags all the way down and across the west coast would prove tactically.... fruitful. Now he kinda wanted one.

"Bout time, too. I was about to lose it with all this sneakin' about. Not good for a soul, I say. A body needs the blood up, to be movin' free. Needs excitement. And pyrotechnics." Thoryne confides to no one in particular, casually surveying the battlefield for something to shoot like he's just laid down his nuyen at a carny shooting gallery. "Oh, we can't be havin that... he chides, tongue clucking as he spots the lone guard making a run for it at the back.

He brings the rifle into a practiced cheek weld and draws a bead on the runner, as the internal SmartGun system relays information on the targets speed and distance. "This was a private party, chum...don't need you inviting your mates."

(( Shoot the baddie. Probably burst? Cant remember what the most effective string of fire is. Dealers choice ))

Thoryne holds the trigger down on his AK-98, tracing a path of automatic fire along Hasegawa's path. The fleeing guard stumbles as geysers of blood erupt from multiple gunshot wounds along his back. He crashes down the ground, gravely wounded.

Droplets spatter Mick's face like sanguine kisses, whispered secrets amid a bellowing chaos.

A Pollock of blood dashes over the whole cellblock as Taipan opens a gash the length of his forearm across one of the guards, but the ork doesn't even register it. All their weight is heaving forward on the pumping pistons of the adept's legs, gaining momentum, cresting toward a crazed, critical inertia. Their view of the room tunnels as Mick barrels forward toward the open cell block door, presently vomiting smoke out into the cool morning air of the San Francisco Bay. The ork hardly even recognizes when Private Miura steps over his last threshold and triggers the door to close; all they can see is what is. The smoke, the blood, the roar of the fracas. For all Mick knows, Miura has always been there, patiently waiting to meet his death with pleading eyes and a choked gurgle, slumping against the cracked ferrocrete wall of a room where undesirables go to disappear. Their arms pumping inversely with their legs, Mick draws their right hand back, balling it into a fist as their left foot finds the floor just more than a meter shy of the hapless guard.

When the ork's fist rips forward toward the man's midsection, it is with far greater fury than had been necessary just moments prior to punch through a fraggin' cliffside.

Mick's rushing haymaker is so fast that it cleaves a valley in the smoke, falling back over itself to form a heart-shaped reverse contrail. The adept feels ribs shattering under this blow and Miura is thrown up a full meter before slamming into the wall. There's a distinct moment when Mick can see the life fade from the guard's eyes. His body then collapses at the foot of the door, like a ragdoll.

As Thoryne brings down the running guard, Reiya reloads her crossbow. Once she assesses that their target is still alive, she moves to get a clear shot at his neck and fires.

Reiya's bolt whistles through the air and embeds itself in Hasegawa's ear canal with a meaty crunching sound. The guard's eyes bug out and his mouth works for a few seconds before he falls limp in the sand.

Cell block B falls silent, save a ringing in the ears from the cacophony of automatic weapons and the persistent pleading from Ikeda, the wounded guard inside the structure.

Taipan's heartbeat decelerates a fraction as the AR-tagged threats wink out in rapid succession. He makes a mental note to thank Mouse later for the flood of tactical intelligence amid the literal fog of war. Leveling the point of the wet blade at the bridge of the pleading guard's nose, he growls in Japanese through gritted teeth, "Urusai. Sit down."

Keeping the blade leveled threateningly at the guard's face, Taipan reaches down to disarm him. << Clear. Got one alive here. >>

Mick glances over their shoulder at Taipan and, apparently, their new captive. << Not likely all that noise and this smoke is going to go unnoticed... >> The ork pauses and looks back at Miura's slumping body, his midsection pulverized and distending bulbously inside his uniform. << And didn't our buddy back on the ship have some kind of vital signs monitor? >> Mick smacks the chunky mechanical door trigger to stop its closure, and suggests, << We probably shouldn't expect to be alone for long. >>