Clusterfrag

Axel squeezes off a shot, but the cages prove a formidable obstacle to shoot through. The round ricochets off of the corner of the far cage.

Wind hovers just above Axel's shoulder, its mounted weapon thundering as it unleashes a volley of automatic fire. The slugs rake against the cage, chewing pieces from the steel. The Kuroikaze has to scamper to one side to escape the deadly rain of bullets.

Mick sees an opening as the Kuroikaze weaves through Axel's hail of bullets. The ork explodes forward, rushing the samurai super soldier with abandon, aiming for the exposure on his inner left thigh.

(( Called shot, dim mak ))

Mick comes in low, using speed to their advantage. As the Kuroikaze pivots to escape Mick's hands, the adept jukes and lifts the jet black haidate out of the way. The thigh exposed, Mick jams four fingers into the gap in the heavy outer carapace. They can fill the flexible inner armor shatter and experience informs Mick they have just pierced a tendon and likely ruptured a vein.

With the barrier down Yung hesitates, observing the uncanny precision of the blow dealt by Mick to the kurokaze. The swiftness of both combatants is terrifying and serves to once again shunt his mind back to the brutal lethality and virtuosity of his crewmates.

The elevator moans, something snaps and the car drops an inch on the unsupported corner. Slowly the wheelchair begins to slide sideways towards the lower corner, bumping into the side of Yung’s foot. The sudden sound and movement draws him out of his quasi-paralyzed state, he glances down and sees the doctor slumped over.

"We gotta get you outta here Doc." He says, moving around behind the wheelchair before grabbing the handles. "Cover me!" Yung calls out, before popping the front wheels up at a 45 degree angle and setting them down on the floor of Cell Block C. He then lifts the back of the wheelchair out of the carriage and propels it forward into the room.

He wheels the chair sharply to the left, tires skidding across the smooth floor; hoping to create some space between himself and the melee scuffle.

Doug rolls forward over the elevator's threshold, attached rifle firing in full auto. Bullets rake the cage bars, but fail to score a hit on Kaminari.

The explosion of gunfire focuses Taipan's senses, tunneling them to a single pinprick point, calm and collected and intense enough to bore a hole through the Earth. He's seen enough bloodshed– seen the liquid flow of multiple combatants gliding over one another like hot sesame oil just about to burn in an overheated wok– to see through it to the grand design. And so he waits, hand on his katana's tsuka, in a high crouch, his haunches loaded and poised to propel him forward into battle. He knows a seam will reveal itself in the fray like the layered bloom of cleanly sliced flesh that, with just a single stroke of his weapon, slops open like an over-large book. He knows his moment will come.

Whirlwind circles from the opposite side as Wind, laying down a barrage of fire. The concrete floor of the cell block explodes into dust as the automatic fire strafes towards Kaminari. The commando is forced to lunge away, narrowly avoiding a direct hit as rounds flatten against the shoulder of the jet black armor.

Using this distraction to his advantage, Thoryne draws a bead on the Kuroikaze through the bars. The green reticle in his vision swims, swims, and finally aligns. The AK-98 rocks in the troll's bulky arms as he sends a swarm of rounds at Kaminari. The slugs flatten against the armor, tracing a pattern up to the chin. Through sheer marksmanship, Thoryne manages to slip a shot through the small gap under the Kuroikaze's chin. Any interior armor is decimated by the velocity of the round and the last bullet lodges firmly in the commando's brain.

Kaminari suddenly goes limp, falling backwards to crash against the floor. Blood oozes from the smoking hole underneath the Kuroikaze's chin, dribbling over the concrete.

"…AND ONCE AGAIN, THE GENERAL'S FINEST HAS PROVEN TO BE NO MATCH AGAINST A BAND OF WELL-ARMED DREKHEADS." Mouse narrates the scene with a completely unearned bravado as she takes her first quivering steps out of the elevator, as though hoping her glib remarks might help gloss over her total uselessness in that fight, or the nervous adrenaline coursing through her. She folds her arms tightly against her chest as she surveys the scene, gaze lingering over the still body of kuroikaze, who mere seconds before, had seemed utterly indestructible.

"...AND FOR OUR EFFORTS, WE'VE BEEN GIFTED A MAN-SIZED PILE OF THERMITE, DELIVERED RIGHT TO OUR FEET." She turns her attention back to her team, head cocked almost playfully. "THINK WE COULD PUT THIS TO GOOD USE? SEEMS A SHAME TO LET PERFECTLY GOOD PYROTECHNICS GO TO WASTE…"

Axel pumps his fist in the air. "And that's why you charge in with no plan. They'll never see it coming!"

He walks out of the elevator and stares at the corpse. Then he glances over at the blast door. "Well, if we can't open that door, might as well put him to good use." He suppresses a shudder. "Beats going back the way we came."

The thunderous cacophony caused by the hailstorm of bullets suddenly comes to a halt; punctuated by the high caliber *thunk thunk thunk* of the AK98. Yung glances in the direction of the now motionless kuroikaze, eyes widening beneath his mask. Frag me, Big Man dropped that guy in a hot second with all the joy and mirth of Santa Claus. He turns back to his wheelchair bound emotional anchor, bending down to whisper in his ear. "Better not do anything to get on his bad side, eh Doc?"

He quickly scans the left side of the room for any signs of danger that might have gone unnoticed, before continuing to wheel the doctor towards the blast door. As the ringing in his ears slowly begins to fade, he presses the side of his head against the door, listening for any sound of activity outside.

(( Perception check with enhanced earbuds ))

Mick is painted in gore. The ork had just driven their strike to the kuroikaze's leg when the ceaseless volley of lead finally caught up with him. Mick has time enough to imagine that they might look like an old timey bank robber, covered in the explosion of ink from their misbegotten greenbacks, only rather than blue ink, it's the deep red arterial stuff of some fascist piece of drek. All the better.

Mobilizing, the adept passes by one of the unconscious guards and sends a swift boot to his slack-jawed face. Then, catching a look, the ork justifies, "Wouldn't want sleeping beauty to wake without a kiss from Boots Charming." Glancing around the group, Mick redirects, "We gotta keep moving." Mick remains nothing but forward motion as they glide through the cell block like a blood-soaked apparition, searching for other signs of danger as other members of the team set to the work of freeing their first mark.

Unsurprisingly, the doctor does not respond to Yung. Likewise, it can be said that the doctor does not disagree, either.

The blast door is cold against Yung's face, which is still flush with the effort of climbing the elevator cable. He closes his eyes and strains to hear through the four odd inches of reinforced carbon-steel. At first the only discernible sounds are those of his teammates' banter and the itinerant groans of prisoners. Gradually, however, Yung becomes aware of noises just outside the cell block. The thickness of the door prevents him from resolving the sounds fully, but it sounds like voices. Multiple voices.

A thin curl of smokes rises off of the Kuroikaze's body, contributing a sharp aroma to the immediate area.

On the TacStar shared map of Alcatraz the icons that represent Zal's team are converging on the marina. Whatever the freedom fighter's squad is up to, it's obvious that they've no time for idle conversation.

"WE ALREADY KNOW THEY LIKE THE TASTE," Mouse notes, almost idly, as she scans both the prisoners’ faces and the locks on the cell doors. "IF YOU KEEP THAT UP, THEY’RE GOING TO IMPRINT ON YOU, LIKE BABY BIRDS." She stops in front of the cell Mick had indicated, reaching instinctively into her pocket for her familiar autopicker as she looks for the locking mechanism. After all, the regime's already shown a proclivity toward relying on old school tech, much to her consternation.

"NOT GONNA LIE, I KIND OF WANT TO USE JACKBOOT JIRO TO MELT THESE BARS," she muses, tilting her head toward the smoldering armor. "PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE AS EFFICIENT, BUT IT WOULD BE WORTH IT FOR THE SHEER POETRY."

Yung peels his face off the blast door, turning back to observe his crew mates in action. He releases the handbrake on the wheelchair, spinning it back towards the heart of Cell Block C. "Probably not safe for you so close to the door Doc." He whispers as he starts wheeling the unconscious form back towards the elevator.

<< Mmm, sounds like we got some company outside, lotta voices. Seeing how Zal and his crew are at the Marina, don't think they're friendly, yeah? >> One of the wheels lets out a high pitched squeal as the duo return to the center of the room. Yung sets the handbrake once again, shrugging his shoulders at those who cast a sidelong glance at the noise.

He turns his attention to Luis as Mouse examines the locking mechanism, preparing to spring their first target. He sizes the man up with the skill and expertise of someone who spends far too much time an Armante AR dressing room. Then he turns his attention to the three unconscious guards, approximating which of the three would be the closest fit to Luis.

He sets into motion, starting with the chosen guards boots and socks, followed by the man's BDUs, his armor which remains unscathed, and finally the weapons. A thought occurs to him to check the guard for a commlink, trodes, or any other device that might provide tactical insight.

After gathering the gear he addresses Luis, "Hoy es tu dia de suerte amigo. ¿Estás listo? Me nombre es Akela la Caza. Deberías prepararte guey. El texano esta ansioso por tu regreso. ¿Tienes hambre?" He says, producing a protein bar from his satchel and tossing it to the prisoner.

Mouse retrieves her autopicker and inserts the tip into the opening on the cage's mechanical lock.

Luis looks up at Yung. While there's no doubt the man in the cage is one of their objectives, the actual man no longer resembles his photo. To start with, he's lost fifteen pounds. Luis' hair is long and scraggly and he's sporting a full beard. There are bags under his eyes and the faint mottling of healed bruises. The fine layer of filth that cakes his face is interrupted by two streaks below his eyes, probably a result of being within the neurostun grenade's radius.

"Gracias," Luis says simply. He raises a hand to catch the protein bar but it sails past. Luis looks down at it, as if trying to recall what it is. Despite the lethargy of his movements, Yung can detect a rapidly burgeoning spirit simmering beneath the tired mask. The man has been languishing; it's only natural that it would take some time to revert to his natural self.

Luis rolls to his feet with a groan, clearly favoring his right leg. He wraps his fingers around the bars and watches as Mouse works at the cell's lock. "You're with Zal? Is he here?" With each word and movement, Luis' eyes are becoming clearer. Now that the very real possibility of escape is present, he seems to be resurfacing.

The autopicker in Mouse's hand emits a ratcheting sound and she feels the bolt within the lock mechanism give way.

Mick scans the cell block chamber, looking for egress points for the rigger's drones. << Hey, can we get a drone outside to see what we're up against there? >>

Axel glances across the room at Mick, and gives a quick nod, not letting on the content of the adept's message. With a thought, he sends Echo back out the way it came, with a high, lazy orbit around the building.

Mouse can feel herself exhale as the bolt gives way- a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding as the autopicker was working its magic. She glances up with Luis' question, only to immediately regret doing so the instant she catches his weary, nearly-broken eyes. She instead proffers only a small nod in reply, and the weakest of smiles, before instinctively stepping back, as much making space for Reiya and Yung as prompting them for their support- that empathetic, human touch that she so keenly lacks.

Instead, her head swivels toward the blast door and her compatriots, who have already busied themselves with reconnaissance. Acutely reminded of the swarm of icons that they had drawn to Block B, she sends a silent pulse through the local network, virtually feeling out the space for any newcomers on the scene, silent or otherwise.

Yung clicks his tongue in self admonishment. Assuming Luis was in anything but an unfavorable condition was short sighted and somewhat callous. He walks around to the errant protein bar before squatting down to unwrap it, handing it gently to Luis.

"You got it guey, Zal is here with a handful of old friends. He can't wait to see you, just taking care of some biz while we spring you." He fishes through his satchel as he talks, finally producing some water he combines with powdered electrolytes.

"He hands the drink to Luis. Go slow, SOLDIER." He emphasizes, gauging the reaction. "How's that leg, you walking outta here? We've got a wheelchair, the Doc won't be happy but we can make it work." He says, standing and extending his hand down to Luis. "Might need to change my name to Akela El Burro."

"That's a relief. Contrary to popular belief, daily beatings do not increase morale." Luis takes Yung's hand and springs to a fully upright position. He shifts his weight back and forth, somewhat unsteadily. "I can move. I won't be winning any sprints, but if you can spare a weapon I promise I won't be a burden." He cranes his neck, glancing at the Kuroikaze that's beginning to smolder. "That was very impressive. I'm glad you're on our side."

Luis can't help but stare at Mouse. As motley as the team is, the diminutive decker is perhaps the most eccentric addition. Nevertheless, it's with genuine gratitude that he offers a smile and a nod.

Echo veers back out into daylight and begins a slow circuit of cell block C. As the drone nears the entrance, the feed reveals three soldiers assembling in a breaching formation at the blast door. Each man is garbed in riot armor and armed with a long-gun. The soldiers exchange nods and the one closest to the door controls reaches out towards the biometric scanner.

Seeing the warmth in Luis' expression and tone, Reiya relaxes and smiles at their new comrade. "Can you use this?" she asks in a low voice, indicating the crossbow on her back. "I'll be using spellcraft from here on out." She looks down at his legs, assessing. "I can also use it to heal you if you really need it, but I'll hold off until it's urgent," she says gently, suppressing her eagerness to relieve pain in favor of conserving her strength until necessary.

Despite having a much higher-priority task at hand, the decker can’t help but be just the smallest bit distracted by the new set of eyes on her. For all the effort she usually takes to go unnoticed, in a place like this, she may as well be wearing a flashing neon sign that reads ‘OBVIOUS NON-COMBATANT’.

As such, she can’t help but appreciate Reiya’s more enthusiastic engagement with their new friend. On the topic of weapons, her attention breaks away from the feed of network traffic as she tilts her head toward the scattered bodies of the stunned (and in one case undressed) corpsmen. "IF POST-20CEN TECHNOLOGY IS MORE YOUR THING, THERE ARE 3 INGRAM SMARTGUNS GOING WOEFULLY UNUSED. JUST MAKE SURE TO REBOOT THEM FIRST."

By the time she looks back to her own HUD, she can’t help but notice the well armed guards approaching the door. With a barely audible hiss of a stifled "Ffffffffffffu-" she ducks behind one of the nearby cells, instinctively making her physical self small as she frantically skims the digital space for anything she might use.

(( Matrix perception for any obvious/hidden icons nearby? If there’s anything at all, she’ll probably go hotsim to poke at it. Or if not, she’ll just go back to being the firewall. ))

Luis peers at the crossbow and rubs his beard. "Can't say I know my way around one of those. I'm more of a handgun type guy." He smiles and shakes his head at the offer of medical assistance. "Don't worry about me, I'll manage. Save your strength."

Mick swiftly moves into position behind the cage just this side and to the right of the blast door, tucking themself into a low crouch behind the prisoner held there. Making eye contact with the derelict, the ork raises an index finger to their lips, and suggests "We're springing prisoners." The cloud of pestilence floating around the adept roils, tendrils floating from its center mass like eager, curious fingers.

Yung reaches behind his back, searching under his shirt before finally producing a Colt America. He ejects the clip checking to make sure he loaded the APDS during the voyage, and quickly reinserts it before offering the weapon to Luis. After doing so he quickly grabs the combat vest off the ground and moves to help Luis put it on. "Need to suit up rapidamente, we got company." As Luis gets ready, Yung positions himself between the former prisoner and the soldiers preparing to enter the room.

Taipan's eyes narrow as the situation reveals itself, pregnant and ready to burst. The samurai slips forward, taking up position opposite Mick and unseating his katana from its saya by an inch, the small exposed plane of the blade catching the light from an overhead florescent and glinting with a rueful, patient resolve.

Luis pulls the slide on the Colt and grips the weapon with both hands. He nods and wobbles out of the cage, taking cover behind the next cage over.

The air is beginning to grow thick with the acrid scent of melting alloys. The jet black Kuroikaze armor sizzles and spits as the thermite begins to melt it.

A series of beeping sounds emit from the door controls and the massive door retracts. Three Imperial soldiers in riot armor storm the entrance in tight formation, splitting to move towards cover.

Mick waits a second, the trio of soldiers' booted footfalls scraping hastily across the concrete floor as they break formation. Be it by force of habitually practiced breach vectors or because he simply doesn't see the ork, one of the soldiers breaks hard toward Mick's hiding position behind the cage, away from his compatriots. Three more steps. Two more. Just one–

The toe of the soldier's boot crosses the lateral threshold set by the edge of the cage. Mick bursts, pistoning out of their crouch like a loaded battering ram, their eyes burning in high contrast white violently blaze against the ork's face, still smeared deep red in the Kuroikaze's blood. Mick's mouth is agape in a roar, their teeth little white tombstones circling the screaming abyss opening up to swallow its prey.

(( Killing hands, Dim Mak/target vitals ))

Mick nearly collides with Aoki as the soldier comes barreling through the door. They jab two fingers out to catch him in the left armpit, but Aoki jukes at the last moment. Mick's hand bounces off of the riot armor. Had it been a regular blow, Mick would have likely dislocated the man's shoulder.

Whirlwind zips across the cell block, hammering automatic fire at Nishimura. The multitude of cages in between the combatants proves a formidable obstacle, as rounds ricochet off of the metal. The conscious prisoners dive for cover as concrete and steel splinters explode around them.

Yung leans out from behind a cage and aims his Ares Predator. He feels a jolt in his elbow as the weapon fires. The round ricochets off of a far cage, narrowly missing the intended target.

Reiya eyes the riot gear sported by these particular soldiers. It gives her an idea; one they likely won't expect, without doing ay lasting damage to prisoners caught in the cross-fire. She smiles and casts.

(( Cast Hot Potato at Force 6, centered on the soldier in the middle. ))

The prison air rattles with the increasingly familiar cracks of spent ammunition, and once again, the decker can feel her heart jump to her throat. Her vision fixates on the incoming threat, her teammates at the ready, her own helplessness. She swallows hard, as if to force her own heart back down, and extends the fingers of one trembling hand outward, once again lighting up the AR space around them with a web of projected movements and ranges of attack.

As she does, a word escapes, barely audible under the newfound commotion, "...please…" The statement is only a fragment, but the sentiment is abundantly clear: Please, just this once, let me help them.

(( Since I won’t be doing anything else this combat, might as well interrupt and Be the Firewall, if only to get that boost in before the goons start attacking back.
-5 to initiative, boost applies to everyone but Mick, Reiya, and Luis. ))

Reiya feels the astral energy coursing through her body and pouring into the front of cell block C. She watches two of the men stiffen as they begin to succumb to the illusion spell, and she doesn't bother to stifle the wicked smile that follows.

From his position crouched behind a cage, Axel aims down the sights of his Alta, and squeezes off three shots in rapid succession.

(( Semi-auto burst at the nearest goon ))

Axel's bevy of rounds snap through the cage bars and graze Endo's riot armor, tearing the canvas free from the armor plates.

Aoki regains his footing and swings the rifle in his hands like a club, aiming to bludgeon Mick's head. Mick easily ducks in time to avoid the blow.