Futuristic In The Wake of Empire

The capital city of Kalassad had seen better days but most were a slow regression from bad to worse. The Grand Interstellar War had devastated the planet's spaceports but it was the aftermath with the rise of the Carnazir and FSA that had brought the barbarity to its surface. Its status as an Arkradian client state and trading post clashed with what its increasingly armed, aggressive separatist movements desired; a closer relationship to the Carnazir on top of indepence from Arkradia.

The immortal emperor had lost much in the war. He wasn't going to give up one of his central ports without a fight. The ruling councils of the Carnazir weren't going to miss out an opportunity to further strengthen their grip beyond their Graveyard's boundaries.

Beneath the waters of the flooded capital, a sleek beetle-like transport vessel quietly glided through the waters of the twice-ruined city. The first tragedy was by vicious bombardments to prepare for a carnazir invasion force, the second a violent destruction of its high tech dam systems to deny them their territory. It had been nearly a year since the flooding and the subsequent counterattack by the Arkradians had pushed the Carnazir back. The repaired and reinforced dam now stood as a border between the two conflicting territories. The waters before it and the sunken mockery of a cit they swamped a monument to the lengths Dolsilvec's finest would go to retain what they could.

With how the Carnazir kept their distance, they were always on the lookout for underwater infiltration. Yet they were not expecting nor aware of the FSA stealth vessel that now crept along the murky floor, far more at home in these waters than the denizens the deluge had forced out. In the murk it would be easily mistaken for drifting debris or lifeforms from the nearby rainforest that had chosen to settle where sapient life fled.

Within the armored transport, its living cargo would soon be preparing to disembark. Biocomputers made of a mixture of membrane-screens and integrated electronics lit up overhead, displaying that the vessel had reached its location - right outside of a partially collapsed structure cylindrical in its height and connected to a collapsed series of structures closer to the dam. A digitized voice buzzed over the internal speakers - a blurring, monotone drone that somehow managed to be sardonic and cruel in its inflection as much as it was cold and empty.

"TARGET VISUAL PROFILE UPLOADING TO MONITORS. BIOSIGNATURE DATA FOR TRACKING PURPOSES SHOULD BE DOWNLOADED IMMEDIATELY FROM DATA NETWORK."

The screens blurred into a blue haze before a full body shot of a transparent, almost plankton like humanoid showed on screen. A voidhanger - a posthuman technically, skin turned see-through from generations spent where reality met unreality. His features were slender and tall by his kinds standards at roughly 5''10, twin-joined elbows ending webbed fingers as if bearing some amphibian patterns. His clothing appeared to be a sort of black vest of sorts, looking almost ballistic but it was clear from data-pointers popping up they were suppressing his capabilities.

"VOIDHANGER RESEARCHER, ASSOCIATED WITH CARNAZIR R&D. KNOWN NAMES: INVONARAHON. THEY WERE ACQUIRED BY ARKRADIAN SECURITY FORCES WHEN INVESTIGATING AN UNCLEARED LANDING NEAR THE BORDER."

Security footage from orbital spy sattelites showed scene by scene, a tarnished and battered craft of ramshackle, pieced together origin slipping through atmosphere in a way its damaged form should not have allowed. It appeared air patrols had noticed; so had Arkradian intelligence. A blackout of surveillance systems ensued - it appeared they were able to capture him without the Carnazir knowing.

"ENTER FACILITY, RETRIEVE TARGET, EXFIL. CARNAZIR FORCES MAY POTENTIALLY BE PREPARING TO INTERCEPT. ARKRADIAN TRANSPORT VESSELS MAY ATTEMPT TO MOVE HIM ELSEWHERE. DO NOT LET HIM FALL INTO THEIR HANDS. RELOCATE A SAFE DISTANCE WHEN CALLING FOR EXTRACTION."

The sound of the water's surface breaking followed with the beetle-like craft emerging by a dilapidated, dripping structure. Water was still pouring from its roof and flooring had collapsed onto lower levels, revealing corridors leading into the heart of the circular structure. This was about as close as it could get to the damn with the building being linked to a few overlooking the side of the reinforced, repurposed Arkradian outpost. Already they could hear aircraft flying overhead - patrol craft on routine flybys and Arkradian based on teh faint glances they could get.

The elytra-like back of the vessel opened, peeling away an ovular opening like an automated double door, letting them see the muddy shoreline they had parked at and the disgraced structure they stood before, far clearer than the in-built ocular parasite-cameras would allow. It was clear that they could enter the structure and use it to get to a vantage point overlooking the dam but its flooded lower floor seemed to have numerous holes, many of which were large and more of tunnels. They presumably lead towards the dam as well. On foot they could also follow the muddy, sinking ground and hide among the long burnt out vehicles and partially collapsed structures.

Regardless, Assembly higher ups left it to the Exile Battalion to determine how they wanted to deal with the challenge. It was after all, their freedom to do as they pleased as long as they did not cause too much trouble for their handlers.

Gamma-001 took a step from the vessel, his lanky, almost skeletal form crouched low to the ground, almost disturbingly quadruped. The sound of patrolling aircraft worried him little. Based on initial estimates they lacked the sensory equipment to even begin to pick up on his signature, let alone track it.

His mind turned to the mission at hand. Retrieval. Not exactly a strong suit of his. Assuming they wanted the target with their mind intact. Which they presumably did. Unfortunate.

He clacked his teeth, breathing out for a moment.

"Orders?" His mouth failed to move with the words coming out of it, ot jerked for a moment, as though controlled by a particularly bad puppeteer, before slamming closed with a loud clack

Whisper // Ultan

Melenatix GE was up 6.127 points this cycle. their new product announcement: a line of immuno-boosting sub dermal implants with modular add ons for different biomes, had been received warmly and investors were bullish on the up and coming outfit's prospects. All except for one of course. While Melenatix's stock price was still trending upwards Whisper offloaded her own modest share in the company, in staggered batches so as not to attract attention. What most investors didn't know what that Melenatix's head researcher had been falsifying testing data for the implants for months now to hide a nasty tendency for the implants to gradually broaden their targeting parameters over the course of their lifespan, leading them to eventually interpret the host's own cells as hostile and start devouring them from the inside out.

Whisper knew this because this very same head researcher had reached out to a contact of Whisper's for an extraction, new identity and facial reconstruction package; a fairly standard service offered by that person. It transpired that this researcher had actually been one of Melenatix's founders, the scientifically inclined but equal counterpart to the more business minded co founder, now director. In the early days there had been an understanding that the company's equity would be equally split between the two founders but a few clever contracts and a bit of sleight of hand later the researcher found himself holding the short end of the stick. Now the spurned researcher was ready to light the whole stick on fire to burn the other hand. So it goes.

The initial stock dump was a no brainer of course, the real question was whether to buy back once knowledge of the defective implants was made public and Melenatix's stock price crumbled. The scandal could easily be big enough to bury a company of this size if enough implants were shipped out before their deadly flaw started to kick in. Whisper could reach out to someone with the company and warn them in time for a bit of damage control, that could be profitable but if Melenatix took too little damage in the scandal the researcher might realize his scheme had been leaked which could burn a bridge for Whisper with the contact who was extracting them, who were themselves a valuable asset.

Whisper pondered this conundrum for a few milliseconds. The key, she realized eventually, was to ensure that the Director, the true target of the Researcher's ire, took as much of the heat as possible, if he took the blame for the fiasco the researcher would be mollified and Mellenatix could swiftly disavow him and move on to rebuilding their image. Whisper made a note to look into the internal structure of Melenatix, the director had to have an ambitious underling looking to take his place in the lead: if the information was leaked to someone like that they could be counted on to use it in such a way as to destroy the Director while leaving the company they were looking to take over as minimally scarred as possible, with any luck they could directly implicate the Director by making it appear he had known about the defects all along.

Satisfied with her deliberations, Whisper de-partitioned herself and the fragment of her consciousness that had been calculating stock trading smoothly remerged with her main awareness, instantly becoming aware of the briefing her main self had sat through and the parameters of their current mission.

Whisper stood up from her bench seat in the transport and stretched, letting out a little "hmm" as she did so. An entirely ornamental gesture given Whisper's exposed, metal skeleton, it was more intended to capture the attention of those around her.

"For the time being shall we enjoy the view up there?" Whisper asked in her vaguely feminine, synthesized voice, gesturing to the top of the closest structure. "I'd like to see if it would be practical to station somebody there for Overwatch. It might be nice to have someone to cover our exfiltration if things get...hmm, uncivilised," Without waiting for an answer Whisper picked up the metal carry case by her feet and began walking unhurriedly in the direction of the structure. The case contained a series of half formed, interlocking, organic plates: a bio carapace Whisper could slot over her metal frame to masquerade as a natural being. Whisper had left the particulars of this bio carapace unspecified so that she'd be able to more precisely match the characteristics of a particular guard or someone else when they infiltrated the dam itself. This would require some time and DNA from an unwilling donor, but the prospect of being able to directly mimic someone within the facility was priceless for this kind of retrieval mission, certainly worth the price of having to lug around a big metal case for while.

The Doc finishes closing up their face, having made a few adjustments for the comfort of their target. Their usual uncanny aspect has given way to the visage of a not-quite-young, not-quite-pretty voidhanger woman – someone their target will likely regard as a familiar and unthreatening face, if nothing else. A lonely prisoner with no outside contact for who knows how long might even see a rescuing angel... assuming their mark was straight, that is. And that he wasn't a xenophiliac. In any case, the friendliness of this aspect was the goal; infatuation was a low-odds, no-cost potential bonus. They close their field kit back up, fold its components into their thoracic pocket, and turn to follow the others.

"The ship can watch itself," they reply to Whisper's suggestion. "Overwatch would be more likely to blow our cover than to offer us any specific benefit – the last thing we need is our exit path being found before we're ready to take it. That being said, I support the idea of getting the lay of the land." They let out a small cough before continuing, their voice notably higher but also a bit scratchier. "'Scuse me. New vocal cords need some breaking in." Getting a voice to match the face was always the hardest part. Just a little bit off and they came across as disconcerting rather than disarming. Still, they've gotten quite good at it, if they do say so themselves.

Spiderheart said:

The Doc finishes closing up their face, having made a few adjustments for the comfort of their target. Their usual uncanny aspect has given way to the visage of a not-quite-young, not-quite-pretty voidhanger woman – someone their target will likely regard as a familiar and unthreatening face, if nothing else. A lonely prisoner with no outside contact for who knows how long might even see a rescuing angel... assuming their mark was straight, that is. And that he wasn't a xenophiliac. In any case, the friendliness of this aspect was the goal; infatuation was a low-odds, no-cost potential bonus. They close their field kit back up, fold its components into their thoracic pocket, and turn to follow the others.

"The ship can watch itself," they reply to Whisper's suggestion. "Overwatch would be more likely to blow our cover than to offer us any specific benefit – the last thing we need is our exit path being found before we're ready to take it. That being said, I support the idea of getting the lay of the land." They let out a small cough before continuing, their voice notably higher but also a bit scratchier. "'Scuse me. New vocal cords need some breaking in." Getting a voice to match the face was always the hardest part. Just a little bit off and they came across as disconcerting rather than disarming. Still, they've gotten quite good at it, if they do say so themselves.

Click to expand...

Gamma regarded the good doctor for a moment. He smelled... odd. A miasma of scents bombarded his senses for a moment, it had nearly choked him in the cramped confines of the infiltration vessel, and even now it remained strong.

"You smell... funny." The thing muttered, shaking its head for a moment. "I would be best suited to active observation." It tapped its ocular implant. "I am capable of actively turning attention away from my presence, assuming they have any detection equipment capable of observing me in the first place."

His foot tapped lightly and rapidly on the deck of the insertion craft. He hated being under water. Being in the vacuum of space, not a problem. Free falling in a low orbit descent, easy. He knew his suit could handle far greater pressure them what the craft was currently at, knew the thrusters could propel him up the surface or horizontally through the water itself.

It was the thought of drowning that bothered him the most. The cold, vile tasting, ever present liquid invading his airway through his nose and mouth as he involuntarily and vainly gulped for air that was not there.

These kind of thoughts were common to Drëngr, always had been. Invasive thoughts is what they were, not real fears, but exaggerations of what could happen. If they had been doing any other type of insert they would have been centered on that. But being under water meant that it was drowning.

His eyes scanned his team again, slightly shaking his head at the ramshackle makeup in species, skill sets and experiences.

As the briefing started the soldier donned his helmet, and instantly all the internal systems came online. Bio readings, ammo count, magnetic and satlink compasses, power output, suit diagnostics, all scrolled through the HUD to his personalized settings. The droning voice continued on about extracting the target and calling for extract. The helmet cam was on and recording as well, the suit also downloaded a copy of the mission file and briefing for any important data that might be needed.

"Snatch and grab the HVT, by whatever means." Standing up and shouldering his rifle, be followed the rest out of the craft. "Easy day."

Looking at Gamma, he smirked under his helmet, and his voice would convey that smirk as well. "Buddy you actively turn attention from living beings that can just see you." Moving up alongside him and giving a friendly firm pat on what Drëngr assumed was still a shoulder. "But I won't turn down eyes in the sky," Looking from the tower back to Gamma with a small tilt of his head, giving the impression of a wink and smile. "No matter how creepy."

"The orders are simple. Observe the structure to plan. Act on what we have gathered."

A voice sonorous and deep did not rumble as much as it crept from the transport vessel, joined by the sight of dense, multi-segmented limbs coated in the colour of a mass of rotten bog detritus pulling a large form through the vessels' entrance.

"This ruin undoubtedly will serve its function but these are not freshly trained Arkradians. No doubt they will have though the same of potential infiltrators. If a modified human can smell you however," Its attention turned to Whisper for a second. "Then there is a chance any observer biodrones they may possess can do the same. I expect you will ensure this will not become a problem."

The rest of the entity's body slid through and its chunky, diminuitive size soon grew to tower over the rest of the squadron. Its upper body, a heavy-set crab-like carapace the same colour as its arms was most notable with its almost triangular head seated between two massive semi pauldron esque bulkheads of rot-mottled armour roughly resembling shoulders. There were not singular eyes but dome-like structures located where one would expect with four clusters of four smaller orange ocular formations slotted beneath and above each of them.

Its legs bent backwards digitigrade past the knees, accompanied by a variety of smaller arms emergin from the sides of the overlaid chitinous-metallic body plates. Half retracted auxiliary limbs could be seen partially extending from the same joint-slots as its two primary limbs, counting for a total four limbs with primary functionality, another six with auxiliary capability peeking out like some sort of clinging parasites from holes within its body.

Kazarczyon Xelncelek was easily the most heavily armed of the squad by far but the only visible weapon of his in sight was the enormous rifle he held with one primary limb and two auiliaries on the left side of his body. Its shape at first appeared straightforward; long and rectangular prism like, but a second look revealed a discomfortingly living character. The weapon wasn't just made of sharp and blade-angular metal but also a seemingly living, maybe even breathing insectoid material whose jointed throax-like components occupied the space between longer strips of metal the texture of murky swamp water. It was an effective camo pattern for this moist and overgrown environment, even if it was large enough to be a mounted weapon normally seen on the turrets of a light reconaissance vehicle.

The vrexul term for the weapon was Prazadove Kriczet - an amalgamation meaning "Piercing Impact Shrieker". To most it retained the name given to it during the Grand Interstellar War: the hellhammer. Granted, the titular sound like a pounding impact in the underworld of old Earth faiths had been rendered silent by hidden internal silencers and its usual explosive rounds replaced for now with specialized munitions. The vrexul popularized quite a few specialized round types, most of which exploded, but it had been their human allies who showed them the importance of quieter staples. While he could be heard loading in the semibiolgoical staphylinidae-shaped rounds, it would be far quieter than the weapons standard fare.

The enormous creature immediately lowered his body; one of those vessels overhead traveled a little too closely for comfort. His massive body flattened to the soaked ground, the weapon clutched against his torso but its barrel positioned forwards with numerous smaller limbs maniplating beneath his frame. It was but a shadow passing over them but a potential threat nonetheless.

Like an enormous crab but with the motion patterns of a beetle, the leader of the Exile Battalion squad crept across the murk and raised one if its spindlier auxiliary limbs, like a mantis arm but with a four pronged hand. Serrated blade-digits pointed first at Drengr then at Whisper, then pointing to the mouth of a partially collapsed corridor just one floor above the lowest one the arthropod's body had crept to. It looked as if something massive had simply fallen through both floors, leaving a gap between two now fully exposed corridors. A look down into the hole in the ground seemed to indicate an old, inert artillery shell the same size of Kazarczyon's torso and far denser.

"You two, take the floor right above us." He stopped by the great parallel rip in the floor, partially raising his massive upper body, offering it as a step up to the otherwise relatively intact corridor. "Advance quietly and find a vantage point overlooking the dam, relay to us any and all important information about force disposition, mounted weapons, surveillance - anything. Emil, Gamma, on me. We will sweep out the lower corridor after the others head up. Our goal is to find a suitable path that can get us as close to the damn as possible. If all goes to plan, we will regroup and the advance on the facility. We suspect there will be far more deadly forces within and if so, even I will not be able to hold them off."

The beetle like vessel was sinking back into the water, barely leaving any bubbles in its wake. They were alone now with just the drenched ruins and whatever hidden threats laying within to accompany them.

VomitIcicle said:

Gamma regarded the good doctor for a moment. He smelled... odd. A miasma of scents bombarded his senses for a moment, it had nearly choked him in the cramped confines of the infiltration vessel, and even now it remained strong.

"You smell... funny." The thing muttered, shaking its head for a moment. "I would be best suited to active observation." It tapped its ocular implant. "I am capable of actively turning attention away from my presence, assuming they have any detection equipment capable of observing me in the first place."

Click to expand...

"That's probably the surgical gel," Emil replies. "Let me take a quick dip and I should smell just like our surroundings." True to their word, they quickly submerge themselves in the marshy water, emerging somewhat dirtied and entirely soaked but hopefully purged of any leftover odors. "There. That should be sufficient olfactory camouflage against anything that doesn't already have my signature to work with." After a cursory effort to rid themselves of the worst of the muck, they fall in behind the squad leader, resting a hand on their sidearm. Shooting things is about the least productive thing they'll be able to do if a fight actually breaks out, but it beats standing around doing nothing.

As they proceed, one of the tendrils that makes up their 'arm' twitches as they reattach its inner canal to one of their venom glands. Acid will likely be more applicable, especially if they encounter armored targets, but the neurotoxin they've prepared will be better for negating screams in the event they encounter an unarmored target. Preserving their group's stealth advantage as long as possible is going to be essential to getting out of this intact and victorious.

As the group make their way towards the lower corridor, the Doc sizes up the local wildlife, both animal and plant. Knowing how the world responds to their passage can inform them about the hostiles' tactics and relationship with the environment – and, by extension, how best to use both against them. They say nothing, but subtly shift their view-spectrum further into the infrared range, watching for any heat signatures in the vicinity.

ChasmOfOrganicMatter said:

"The orders are simple. Observe the structure to plan. Act on what we have gathered."

A voice sonorous and deep did not rumble as much as it crept from the transport vessel, joined by the sight of dense, multi-segmented limbs coated in the colour of a mass of rotten bog detritus pulling a large form through the vessels' entrance.

"This ruin undoubtedly will serve its function but these are not freshly trained Arkradians. No doubt they will have though the same of potential infiltrators. If a modified human can smell you however," Its attention turned to Whisper for a second. "Then there is a chance any observer biodrones they may possess can do the same. I expect you will ensure this will not become a problem."

The rest of the entity's body slid through and its chunky, diminuitive size soon grew to tower over the rest of the squadron. Its upper body, a heavy-set crab-like carapace the same colour as its arms was most notable with its almost triangular head seated between two massive semi pauldron esque bulkheads of rot-mottled armour roughly resembling shoulders. There were not singular eyes but dome-like structures located where one would expect with four clusters of four smaller orange ocular formations slotted beneath and above each of them.

Its legs bent backwards digitigrade past the knees, accompanied by a variety of smaller arms emergin from the sides of the overlaid chitinous-metallic body plates. Half retracted auxiliary limbs could be seen partially extending from the same joint-slots as its two primary limbs, counting for a total four limbs with primary functionality, another six with auxiliary capability peeking out like some sort of clinging parasites from holes within its body.

Kazarczyon Xelncelek was easily the most heavily armed of the squad by far but the only visible weapon of his in sight was the enormous rifle he held with one primary limb and two auiliaries on the left side of his body. Its shape at first appeared straightforward; long and rectangular prism like, but a second look revealed a discomfortingly living character. The weapon wasn't just made of sharp and blade-angular metal but also a seemingly living, maybe even breathing insectoid material whose jointed throax-like components occupied the space between longer strips of metal the texture of murky swamp water. It was an effective camo pattern for this moist and overgrown environment, even if it was large enough to be a mounted weapon normally seen on the turrets of a light reconaissance vehicle.

The vrexul term for the weapon was Prazadove Kriczet - an amalgamation meaning "Piercing Impact Shrieker". To most it retained the name given to it during the Grand Interstellar War: the hellhammer. Granted, the titular sound like a pounding impact in the underworld of old Earth faiths had been rendered silent by hidden internal silencers and its usual explosive rounds replaced for now with specialized munitions. The vrexul popularized quite a few specialized round types, most of which exploded, but it had been their human allies who showed them the importance of quieter staples. While he could be heard loading in the semibiolgoical staphylinidae-shaped rounds, it would be far quieter than the weapons standard fare.

The enormous creature immediately lowered his body; one of those vessels overhead traveled a little too closely for comfort. His massive body flattened to the soaked ground, the weapon clutched against his torso but its barrel positioned forwards with numerous smaller limbs maniplating beneath his frame. It was but a shadow passing over them but a potential threat nonetheless.

Like an enormous crab but with the motion patterns of a beetle, the leader of the Exile Battalion squad crept across the murk and raised one if its spindlier auxiliary limbs, like a mantis arm but with a four pronged hand. Serrated blade-digits pointed first at Drengr then at Whisper, then pointing to the mouth of a partially collapsed corridor just one floor above the lowest one the arthropod's body had crept to. It looked as if something massive had simply fallen through both floors, leaving a gap between two now fully exposed corridors. A look down into the hole in the ground seemed to indicate an old, inert artillery shell the same size of Kazarczyon's torso and far denser.

"You two, take the floor right above us." He stopped by the great parallel rip in the floor, partially raising his massive upper body, offering it as a step up to the otherwise relatively intact corridor. "Advance quietly and find a vantage point overlooking the dam, relay to us any and all important information about force disposition, mounted weapons, surveillance - anything. Emil, Gamma, on me. We will sweep out the lower corridor after the others head up. Our goal is to find a suitable path that can get us as close to the damn as possible. If all goes to plan, we will regroup and the advance on the facility. We suspect there will be far more deadly forces within and if so, even I will not be able to hold them off."

The beetle like vessel was sinking back into the water, barely leaving any bubbles in its wake. They were alone now with just the drenched ruins and whatever hidden threats laying within to accompany them.

Click to expand...

Gamma awkwardly returned Drengrs shoulder pat with one of his own before tilting his head at the commanders words. He crouched low to the ground, at this point fully quadruped. His synth-skin worked to absorb any excess light, rendering him invisible to all but the sharpest of eyes. To most he'd appear little more than a floating skull. He skittered behind the vrexul like some sort of overgrown insect. He considered sending out a ping with the Haruspex, but decided against it. Passive radar bore little chance of detection, but better safe than sorry.

He bore the same reservations about attempting to locate any hostiles with his occular psi-array. While unlikely, one could not rule out the possibility of enemy etherealogists.

Whisper // Ultan
"Such a gentleman," Whisper said playfully from her position against a decaying fragment of wall and ceiling. Whisper had taken cover as the scouting vessel above had passed over their position. Once the risk of detection had passed Whisper she took up Xelncelek's offer of a foothold, planting a metal foot on his armoured shoulder and launching herself up to the next level and landing silently like a cat.

"I'll see if I can tap into any local chatter while I'm up here," Whisper said Xelncelek, as she waited for Drengr to make his way up as well. "It should be trivial to passively skim for signals and then decrypt it on my internal system. To be precise Whisper was already doing this, having activated several sensor arrays to begin listening for organized signal patterns across a range of frequencies and mediums. A portion of Whisper's neural network was primed to begin sifting through whatever signals she picked up, eliminating chaff from other sources with algorithm driven searches and then applying preliminary analysis to the remaining results. Fortunately there was little in the way of civilian chatter to sift out, the flooding had seen to that well before the Exile Battalion had arrived on the scene.

"Well then, we'll be in touch shortly," Whisper said as the other team began making their way into the tunnels. Whisper said this not out loud but through a secure comm channel beamed to Xelncelek. "Try not to step in anything too nasty down there in the meantime,"

ChasmOfOrganicMatter Grim Wraithe Stjerna

Drëngr looked up as the sound dissipated into the distance, the doppler effect indicating that it was moving quickly. Faster than a normal detection drone or other surveillance unit would be.

Smiling as Gamma returned the shoulder pat in the usual awkward fashion, he shouldered his rifle into a low ready, taking a few quick steps towards the squad leader as they offered themselves as a step ladder to the higher level. Landing almost as lightly as Whisper, but with a slight metallic/ceramic thud, muffled by a thin rubber lining on the bottom of his boots.

"You got it boss." Looking to Whisper with a nod. "Tie into my senors, might help with early detection of traps or personnel on patrol." Moving off down the deteriorated corridor at a quick walk; his feet rolling from heel to toe, in a duck walk of sorts. "I'll take point and you scan." The lower part of his legs moving more then his thighs, Drëngr's torso moving independently as he efficiently and casually swept his rifle from left to right and peering into any alcove or door. He would look like a tank with turret moving around as the base moved forward.

The HUD lighting up the darkened spaces, automatically shifting from regular polarization for the bright daylight to a combination of infrared and colorized thermal vision, allowing him to see as if the dark spaces were brightly lit.

"Nobody is to engage." Kazarczyon scuttled over to leaning archway once meant to be an entrance to a shopping centre, his waving antennae motioning for Emil and Gamma to follow suite with their heavily augmented companion. "You two above will have the ideal viewpoint of the dam. Whisper should be able to hear any communications with the base and subsequently, pinpoint the location of any patrols in the structure. With that information, the rest of us will have to find the best path forward, hopefully without alerting anyone."

A small notification popped up on Drengr's HUD, followed by a few short-lived windows in the curving segment-letters of the vrexul language. They blinked as they deciphered into English before vanishing. While the biodigitalism of the vrexul was not typically made for interfacing with UCL derived systems, the FSA had discovered many ways around this and to Kazarczyon's systems, this was another mundane task in spite of the boundaries it crossed.

Before Faith and Redemption could move much further, notifications popped on on their digital systems - a warning to advance carefully and relay the detection of any threats or objects of interest to Kazarczyon. Match movement speed with Drengr and Whisper if possible, ensure that both teams were aware of one another's position relative to their own such as through distance markers or digital map and radar.

The upper floor was in better condition than the lower but for the slightly tilted, crumbling structure this was a highly relative description. Cracks in the ceiling let thin beams of light pierce through, droplets of moisture splashing onto the edges of symmetrically aligned holes piercing through the roofing and flooring above. A few storefronts could be seen; collapsed and buried in upper levels that had crushed them into unrecognizable messes. It had also ensued that this floor was full of narrow passageways splitting off into wider areas where much of the ground beneath had been torn away to reveal iron bars and long patches of mossy, overgrown debris serving as stable footing.

Movement through here for Drengr and Whisper would likely be tense and treacherous; irregular light levels created sharp contrasts in the dimly lit and the outright dark. The skittering of small mammalian life forms was frequently heard, rummaging through civilization's wreckage, sending down dust above as they raced through the hidden world behind the square ceiling tiles. This might have interrupted with physical hearing but for the latter of the two operatives, it didn't conceal a series of nearing signals and quiet, barely audible digital voices. The piles of rubble and still remaining walls were blocking some of it, but there were others in the structure. Roughly 50 or so metres away - at this point, both of them would very slightly be able to hear footsteps light and deliberate, maybe six or so but it was impossible to get a hard read at the moment.

The Arkradian duo of Faith and Redemption, having advanced deeper into the dilapidated maze, would be able to get a better view. Past a wider space in the mall's upper floor where a cafeteria once stood, the shattered glass dome above let light bleed into the area and reflect off of shards and old bits of metal and ruin scattered about. It is here that both of them could see a group of Arkradian soldiers, hidden but not hidden enough. They were lightly armored with the ballistic vest-plating common for many light infantry groups adopted for a variety of species. The estimate of six seemed to grow; while that number was visible, a few more could be seen sweeping through the partially collapsed corridors past the cafeteria, pointing rifles down huge holes in the ground made from artillery strikes. Bright light shone through them, connecting them to the lower floors. It seemed there might perhaps be at least 10 of them; four that could be identified as human, two who seemed voidhanger based on the dim glow emitting from across their back from specialized energy suppressors, and three tarrhaidim given by their larger and more gnarled bodies.

Whoever was leading the squad was not in view but they were clearly on a routine patrol, sweeping for potential threats. Yet it seemed they were heading away from the Damnation's Hunger team.

Down below, it is a much wetter and messier story. Waters from the flooded streets and bursted pipes are ever leaking, burying the floor in murk to the extent sometimes the massive vrexul is up to his midsection deep. It sloshes and splashes with areas where piles of floor tiling and furniture create small islands - islands however that are not uninhabited. Long and slimy creatures with vertical visionary slits across long, newt-like bodies slide across them. Their eyes flare a deep green as the squad nears, frills of multi-colored red flaring across their necks as back-slanting fangs bare at their presence. They are roughly five to seven feet in length, thick like pythons with two stocky if muscular limbs near the front and ends of their bodies and four axolotl-esque feathery fin-appendages between them. While not very bulky as a whole, they do seem territorial - if they aren't making low, wet hisses at the team then their aggression is turned towards one another.

With the holes in the ceiling above, it is certainly audible by anyone who might be upstairs. The team could only hope they had long since gotten used to it and didn't find their wading through the murk to break any patterns. There is a smell that permeates the air however; to most organisms it is too faint especially when mixed in with that of various rotting foliages and moss that colonize pillars, walls, and the junkpile islands of the bottom floor. It strengthens when they pass the hissing creatures - it seems to be a pheromone of some sort, not meant to attract but to warn one another not to near their little territories.

As they wade however, the huge vrexul stops and raises one of his clawed hands signalling to Emil and Gamma to do the same. Antennae emerging from his head point outwards and began to wave. A few of the dog-sized newts look at them with what initially seems to be hunger and curiosity, but the subtle scraping of his mandibles soon replaces would-be bravery with fear. They recoil back as he leans forward, cyberbiological implants scanning the only partially submerged ground before him. They are roughly right beneath the other half of the team... and subsequently not far from the Arkradian patrol.

"Bodies, Carnazir rebels, up a few metres by the pillar with the plasma-scouring on it. There was a firefight here and the carnazir didn't win. There is something else however. Something else is laying dead on the ground with a scent that is artificial in origin. There's too much light coming through; even the water would not perfectly conceal me." He pointed to the area in question with two of his auxiliary arms. Not only was the water shallower but the light shining in from above spread some of its ambient lighting to the site of the battle.

"There are creatures are hidden around the remains; I count two submerged under junk piles and three hiding in wall crevices. I cannot detect any signs of them having fed upon the bodies yet the risk of alerting the patrol above is too high if I near. Emil, Gamma, scout on ahead and investigate; I'm sure I know what killed them but I want to know what it is those bodies are surrounding. Any optical camouflage you have, please prepare it."

Distantly, a faint electrical buzz that rises and dips can be heard from far down into the building, nearing where the presumed exit towards the dam would be. The problem is getting there without alerting the patrol.

ChasmOfOrganicMatter

The augmented human heeded the words of his commander, stopping to tilt his head at the given orders. A slight nod as he assumes a new stance, clinging to the bottom of the murky pit, his body contorting in ways quite clearly not possible by any natural organic being until only a sliver of his head was above ground. Even if you knew what you were looking at, it was virtually impossible to distinguish Gamma from the countless other bits of detritus floating across the surface of the muck they had been wading through. With his synth suit more than capable of hiding his multi-wave spectrum, Gamma had little fear of detection.

The black ops member begins to drift forward, towards the smell of corpses and weapon discharge.

Duskwalker stepped quietly through the water holding his silenced P88, from the training he received he decided that allowing his stealthier teammates to scout ahead was the best option. He focused on suppressing his ability as to not be detected by possible enemies, while it was a rudimentary skill it always felt strange to him like trying to hold back a manic laugh at some hilarious joke. He halted seeing his three teammates holding position a bit farther down the flooded hallway. Even while he wasn't reaching out duskwalker could feel the life forms within this place and along with them a psychic tension, something bad happened here and the inability to tell if it was the creatures, one of the enemy soldiers or something else unsettled him. Moving closer behind the three he kept low in the water with an eye on their rear while waiting for Kazarczyon to give an order.

Doc opts to imitate Gamma, dropping down into the water – but unlike the cyborg, they don't go so far as playing dead. Instead, they grab onto the ground beneath the water and drag themselves forward, remaining fully submerged. By unwinding their arms, they're able to replace their standard two anchor-points with ten – and hopefully disguise their silhouette enough that even an unseen observer will assume they're just some weird wildlife.

Down in the murk, visible light is near useless. Emil instead focuses on the heat signatures of their environs – the bodies may not exactly be warm, but they should still be a different temperature from the surrounding water and air. As they crawl along, the doctor considers the limited aggression of the local wildlife. So this place is not so frequented that its beasts flee at the first sign of civilization... but not so isolated that patrols ignore it. The tactical usefulness of that inference is not yet apparent, but they tuck it away in the back of their mind for later consideration.

Whisper // Ultan
Everyone behave yourselves, we have company," Whisper's simulated voice said over the team's internal comms, her tone lightened by anticipation. Any sentient mind, even that of a jaded patrolman on a backwater colony, was rich with secrets and intrigue. What grudges were nursed deep in the hearts of those poking around the ruins metres away? What petty ambitions roused them, bleary eyed from the fog of sleep? The answers were often similar to each other but even so Whisper never tired of uncovering them

"I have eyes on six of them from this position but there's more. At least ten I think, probably too many too reliably eliminate before they raise any kind of alarm. " Whisper continued as she crouched low, her mechanical frame compacting in a way that would have put any organic contortionist to shame to minimize her silhouette until she was concealed easily behind a shard of broken ceiling. "Fortunately they seem to be moving away from us, though I think it would be useful to tap their communications for a bit to confirm that and learn whatever else we can from them. If they remain in the area we have a few options short of engaging them outright. "

Whisper shifted the focus of her primary visual receptor to the nearby hole in the floor, left in the wake of unexploded munition that lurked in the fetid waters of the tunnel below. "There's enough unexploded shells around here that if one suddenly blew up a local patrol wouldn't find it all that suspicious, but they'd still likely be forced to divert from their route to investigate. Or maybe the good doctor could induce the local wildlife to make a nuisance of themselves somewhere else? I'm not sure how that would work exactly but judging from all the hissing they sound fairly rambunctious,"

While Whisper outlined these options she dedicated a portion of her network to homing in on the frequency the patrol team was using and was rewarded shortly thereafter with a feed of garbled audio still in need of decryption. That wouldn't take long however, no encryption protocol issued to grunts like these would long resist Whisper's advances.

"Roger that, don't shoot first. Got it boss." He rolled his eyes behind his helmet faceplate. He would prefer a straight DAM, or Direct Action Mission, but recon had it's place. And one thing that helped keep you alive when you were behind enemy lines was stealth.

So Drëngr kept his rifle at a low ready, just below what would have been his eyeline through the sights, if the synchronized targeting system did not eliminate the need to shoulder the weapon at all. But training routines built muscle memory and that built skill which built success, and it did not hurt to be ready in case his suit went dark.

Checking a dark alcove quickly, he turned and looked back at Whisper, holding a clenched fist, indicating to hold position. He then tapped the side of his helmet, and pointed forward. Letting Whisper know he heard something ahead. "I'll check it out, are you picking anything....up?" Drëngr shook his head as Whisper relayed the info over the team net. "Of course you are." He muttered with a subtle eye roll and smirk, but continued forward to try and get a better angle and view of the source of the foot steps and what sounded like voices.

Drëngr crept forward slowly and as quietly as possible, which was a far cry from how loud his armor would lead you to believe. But coupled with the ambient noise, he would blend into the drops, drips, and splashes. His trigger finger straight along side the receiver, but ready to quickly squeeze the trigger at any available threats that engaged him. 'Boss didn't say I couldn't shoot back.' He thought with a wry smile. Though he really intended to find the source of the noise that seemed be moving away from his current position.

Once he has good cover and line of sight Drëngr called over the team net. "Confirm. There's about ten, and moving away from us. We could shadow them and see if they lead us to the dam."

ChasmOfOrganicMatter
AtlannianSpy

Corvei

Corvei was exceedingly nervous, given the circumstances. They weren't exactly sure why they'd been sent along on this mission - with their specialty being almost exclusively long range damage, recon and stealth didn't exactly seem to be their slot in the team. It wasn't that they weren't stealthy, as their physical form contributes to their otherworldly, perhaps a bit ghost-like visage with the semi-translucent skin, their steps light and quiet, making their physicality stealthy in general, it was just that compared to the others, this was just a feature of Corvei's body, rather than something they'd trained and exercised in. That aside, though, they figured that their job was more so in the "shit's gone sideways" situations. While those around them seemed to be more qualified and experienced, Corvei guessed that they were the team's best option in powerful, destructive force on a large scale. Corvei crept just a meter or two behind Faith and Redemption, peeking over the duo to get a glance at the operatives that they had mentioned. Looking at them, Corvei almost let out an audible scoff, especially given the.... pathetic looking voidhangers in the group. They felt with certainty that they were far superior - as well as their power with the ether. Images of the massacre they'd implemented not long before danced in their head, vivid images of bright, pure ethereal power crashing down on what were comparatively frail bodies. Corvei felt the hum of power at their fingertips - annihilating a group this small would hardly break a sweat, figuratively. With a frown, the scielto let the feeling fizzle - while they were happy to kill for the cause, they wouldn't be rash, nor would they disregard orders.
"So uhh.... what now?" They asked the team, tilting their head as they watched the group, glancing quickly at the duo before them, trying to analyze what they were thinking or feeling, watching as one sidled around them, taking up a defensive position. Corvei supposed it was something they should have done, but doubted their capabilities of putting down an assailant quietly - so instead they backed up to a wall, waiting anxiously for their next move.

The creatures for all their territorial behavior weren't foolish. These new bipeds were not the same as those they had seen mowed down by flashes of light and iron; something more than pure lethality compelled their movement. The way they vanished from sight and kept focused on their goal, combined with their numberse, made the waters they normally ruled appear unfriendly, as if no longer the domain of their specifically evolved biologies. They did not dive to the bottom when Gamma submerged; as if he was no longer a civilized creature but a primordial shadow of older times. A few of the newt-like creatures closed their once bared maws, sliding into the murk and into more conceald hovels. Territory held was no use to one if it was converted to a glorified burial mound.

Yet beneath those dark waters, an unusual sigh more concerning than the cadaver circle greeted their sight. Shapes in the water; not of cadavers or ruins but constructed forms. Angular and rigid with anti-grav mounts and auxiliary hover-blade circles, attached to bodies tapering away from a denser metallic body to a thinner heads. They were drones, reconaissance ones and by their design far too high tech for what the Carnazir rebels here could afford with the exospace superiority held by their enemies.

They were not inert either; electrical signals emerged from the sunken husks, fragmented strands of signals and communications muddled by water and their decaying bodies. They were reaching out to whomever would hear them but their all-but-dead state rendered this a fool's errand carried on by mindless, relentless artificial intelligences locked in cycles of repetition. They didn't "see" Gamma but their malfunctioning systems tried to reach out to him, too weakened to punch through even basic defences - calling out to any allies about, threat detection models and records, burned out footage - it would be like opening an unlocked safe to see what secrets they might be holding.

For Emil, stalking through the water like some large predatory spider, the heat emitted by the slain was unusually notable. Some of it was from the sun that shone down and others from the metal both embedded in their bodies and warn as protection; if they surfaced they would get a good smell of the utter reek of their remains. Yet some of the water was warmer too, as if heated from another source. On the island where the squad met its end, surrounded by autonomous security drones, in the middle of them was one drone larger than the others. There were heat signatures around it, just a few celsius hotter than the surrounding waters but matching that of a still active drone.

It too was trying to send out signals but it was too damaged to properly do so, at least, that's how it seemed. There are other bodies in the water, cooler than the surrounding liquid... and signs they had been moved. It was hard to tell by who - the creatures? Why hadn't they moved the rest of the remains? Signs of having been fed on - bite marks not consistent with dental scans of the newt-like mouths if they tried. Likely smaller life forms but they wouldn't have been able to move these bodies in such a way that made such trails in the shore-sands of the central island.

"Gamma, Emil - what do you see in the area? I believe I see wreckage; I cannot distinguish the particular type. I'm picking up something closing in, presumably hovering over the water, roughly a minute until it should enter visual range. You two retrieve what data you can fast but get ready to hard conceal - burrow into the murk or get behind something solid, jammers and cloaking may not work on this one. Link visual feeds, same as you upper floor team, but get ready to cut if I give the signal. What's that patrol up to up there? What's their movement?" Kazarczyon's voice buzzed over the speakers with the same drilled literacy and smoothness expected of well educated FSA squad leaders. As he did so, he gestured with two auxiliary claws to Duskwalker - first to get his attention, then punching with both towards a cover position diagonally positioned against the central island. His small six-digit claw-hands further motioned to him (you couldn't hack hand communication): incoming potential hostile, enter crossfire position opposite of me, wait for my signal. He immediately began moving away from Duskwalker, partially sinking into the water with just his barrel barely poking up behind a clump of floating shrub-weed.

Upstairs, it was a different story. The enemy patrol appeared to be pulling out; a few soldiers had even slumped for a while against walls and if Whisper digitally peaked into their systems, they were casually conversing amongst themselves - a foreign tongue speaking of the usual complaints and boredoms of this frontier base. A few mentioned chasing off scouting parties and something about new drone patrols - yet it was soon that they began to hush their voices, even if the conversations continued.

"Affirmative Whisper, observe and retrieve any sensitive information and keep an ear out for anything sensitive. Drengr, help her keep an eye out for squad leadership and potential targets of interest. Corvei, scan for any signs of potential etherealists among them alongside any tech resistant or reactive the unearthly. The unexploded munitions we passed may come in handy on another note; if we could set something remote control there, it could help provide a distraction. Exiltration will likely be chaotic and unpleasant for all parties involved."

As if the devil itself had spoken, two shapes rumbled out of a collapsed storefront. Tall and powerful, almost like gravel but with a shell-like covering not insectoid like that of a vrexul or stony as if gealtirocht, but gnarled, demonic. As if flesh had been combined with molten lava and morphed into cruel, armored shapes. One loomed at 6''12, not as bulky as the vrexul downstairs but a collection of heavy-duty slug-shells, curving sickle blades, and cybernetic components jutting out of the celaderaka spoke enough about their capabilities. Another one followed him, dressed more closely to the rest of the squad but whereas they had what appeared to be some sort of collapsable ether-tech rifle, the larger of the two had a far more brutish weapon. Its barrel was more like the three heads of straightened out, death-rigid eels with bayonet-fangs emerging underneath. They were connected to a semi-cylindrical magazine within a semi-boxy body with a variety of cybernetic target identifiers and scanners integrated around the sights and middle body.

It was an exotic weapon, an old classic from the old celaderakan juntas many of these beings came from. A weapon every bit as brutal as their iron handed regimes, the same so many fled from. It was hard to tell if this one fled out of concern for safety or a like of Krasavn Dolsilvec or if he was raised on the stories associated by either group. Many of them likely concerned the terror of that weapon - a tri-barreled shatter cannon, essentially a heavy duty cluster-spike launching shotgun. Based on its modifications, it was likely firing tracking and smart rounds with presumably dumbfire, guided, and homing capability. The loadout on the squad leader seemed based on lighter anti-personnel but the cartridge spikes on his body along with the heat-resistant sickle-blades, tinted with an unearthly purple dim glow, suggested he was no stranger to big game.

It would be difficult to scan him further; celaderaka were fine with a variety of bodily augmentations. Perhaps his additional munitions and close combat weapons were obscuring that from anyone who might be trying to peek. Without doubt, he was likely the deadliest thing in the entire building.

"That's not a mere squad leader - that's probably someone sent straight from this whole star section's headquarters. They never are subtle about themselves and they have no reason to be. Something about this hostage is more important than we think if security has been ramped up to this degree." Kazarcyzon commented, one eye-cluster looking through the ceiling/floor holes to catch a glimpse, another on the approach path of the still unknown entity. "That celaderaka is probably taking over the operation or a big part of it. Yet if there's one, there is a chance there may be more. Worst case scenario, they could have blackguards waiting the dam as well and this warrior one of their prospects. If we engage them, Corvei may be the only one with enough artillery to force them back. They're likely more heavily armed than we are."

The Order of the Blackguards, as much warrior-priesthood as it was elite bodyguard unit, was essentially the iron hand of the Arkradian Emperor himself. The mere mention of them would make the elite revolutionary combat units of the FSA or even the most advanced power armored heavy duty units of the UCL tense themselves for a potentially final fight. They preferred celaderaka for a reason; they had their start from royal guards from the Old Worlds who had chosen Dolsilvec over the dead end aspirations of their warlord lineages. They were sworn to him, highly selective, and said to possess technology that even the Carnazir's voidhanger technocrats could not entirely comprehend. They selected from only the most fanatical of the Empire... though it was rumored that there was a quiet schism in their ranks. Even they were not immune to the battle between loyalists and reformism.

"Consider him a potential secondary objective. If we need to disrupt the command structure of the base during the break in or exfil, if we can take him down that could cripple their ability to coordinate, retrieve any ether-coded intel from their bodies, something Corvei will need to handle if we get the opportunity. This outpost might be full tough soldiers, but seeing their demigod fall will chill them to their bones. If we could track that celaderaka that might open up new opportunities for our mission."

Like a shadow that had fallen over a great field and then left, the celaderaka and its squad was beginning to walk back at a brisk pace. As they did so, the sound that Kazarczyon heard grew in volume until it could be heard upstairs (albeit to the non-reaction of the squad presumably returning to the dam). There was a slouch for some of the soldiers, even the sound of a distant sigh, and the garbled growl-speak of the two leaders. It seemed there were frustrations present, boredom, and fatigue - they must have had been at this for some time.

Drengr however might notice something particular. It was the same noise at earlier but it was much closer now; not physically but echoing through the cracks, whispering up from beneath not with ghostly mystery but cryptic, electronic chatter.

For Corvei, Faith and Redemption, they would get a far more dangerous look at it the approaching entity.

It was a drone - the same drone the downstairs team saw at the middle of the circle of cadavers. It was however, hovering on the second floor, sending out an electronic pulse, one that the two brothers would feel crawl over their skin. It passed over them, forced to break up from surrounding debris, unable to scan or detect them but it would come into clear view of the two. There was something unusual about it however; as if there was something living inside of it. Some kind of power source that wasn't entirely electrical and didn't seem biological that seemed to radiate not electricity but a ghostly chill as it passed by.

For Corvei, it would be similar to the sensation of watching a large void-dwelling predator swim by through the air and unearthly currents beneath realspace, uncaring and solely focused on its tasks.

It was moving smoothly towards one of the large holes...

One the large holes above the crashed remains of its compatriot down below.

One that might draw it dangerously close within range of its scanners to pick up on Emil and Gamma. There was another problem - the vrexul leader hadn't detected it and it had moved in far faster than the one minute he had estimated.

In fact, it wasn't even appearing on the shared video feed for some reason as anything other than a very, very faint blur. As if it was a predator itself, prowling for its next unfortunate victim.

It was risky to try and scan it but given by its size and armor, this wasn't a mere scout drone. It was now between both squads but there was no telling just what weaponry it had hidden. It seemed like it might be going to investigate... but would it detect something was off around the waters and if so, how might it respond? The window of time for the squad to respond had become very narrow and that drone did not look anywhere near as fragile as the standard models used by most arkradian forces. Yet its positioning one also a disadvantageous one relative to the lurking commando team.

Duskwalker spotted the claw signal and with a nod of his helmet, began moving through the muddied water to the piece of cover aligning the wall. With controlled breaths he calmed himself bringing his focus to the here and now, the past and future faded away leaving only the moment, he gave another nod in the direction of the now submerged Kazarczyon. Duskwalker tightened the grasp on his prism spear as adrenaline began to course through him his body anticipating action. Suddenly he began to feel it, the power of the Abzu was calling him, it was begging to be used, unleashed in all its magnificence, it always brought with it a growing elation, a twisted form of excitement, a wicked smile crossed his face as he imagined the glorious destruction he would bring upon his enemies. No, back to breathing, he forced himself back to this simple meditation, remembering a mantra ‘focus is the minds fortress against the weakness of doubt’ and with that he crouched ready to pounce upon the enemy with cold calculating fury.

The mechanical monstrosity wandered closer, Duskwalkers eyes widened in his helm, though he could not physically see it, a crude representation of it's form began to appear in his mind. Few times had he faced machinations in battle none as large as this but again he pushed any doubt aside, calm and calculating like a hunting waiting for his best chance to take down prey.

ChasmOfOrganicMatter skydude808 Paarthurnax

Gamma dived downwards upon the discovery of the destroyed mechanical wreckage. Data retrieval would be ideal. Unfortunately, he was lacking in the necessary experience, training, equipment, and time. In a flash, blades emerge from his gauntlets, the mono-molecular edge cutting through their damaged hulls with relative ease. He withdrew what he presumed to be valuable components. The more technically skilled members of his squad could sift through the components he salvaged.

Guesswork was better than no work, he supposed.

Just as Gamma was getting ready to emerge, the callout from the team leader forced him below once more, much to his annoyance. He swims his way to the bottom of the muck pool, burrowing into the dirt like some sort of oversized crustacean. Within moments, he is completely camouflaged in a combination of sunken waste and sludge.

Well.

He'd certainly been in worse situations.

Not like he would drown down here, at least. Not for a good few minutes. His lungs had a far larger capacity for air than most, a necessary function when you consider the extreme levels of aerobic activity expected of him.

Given the momentary respite, the psi-killer takes a moment to meditate, expanding his consciousness outwards. It was hard to describe, but individuals who drew upon the Ether bore a certain 'smell' for lack of better term, an aura incredibly hard to mask. His attention fluttered briefly over the two of his squadmates. Natural born. One smelled like a kaleidoscope of maddening lights, pulsing erratically. The other a quiet, solemn beacon of fire. Power pent up and waiting to release at a moments notice.

The two would feel the slightest of chills run up their spines.

He expanded his senses further, aiming to locate any unfamiliar auras and draw clues on their potential demeanor and ability by their 'scent'.

Spaz. A nickname earned for his sporadic outbursts and actions. But for all he was a spaz, recon was his element. He had once laid in the same area for a week to get off the perfect shot, complimented with the pink mist that was so desired by men of his type. He had thought that when he left the UCL that his days of pissing in cans were over. But here he was, performing recon, and would probably end up pissing in a can. The ghillie blanket he was wearing was specifically designed for scout snipers and protected against all but the most intruding of scanning tech. Today he was crouched on the roof of a mostly fucked over building and had been there for a bit, right after the team deployed scrambling up here. He had to fight every piece of him from taking a shot at the patrol, the wildlife, the drones, and basically anything as it passed below and around him. The fact that he couldn't kill much of anything without giving away his position actually pissed him off. A lot.
He had slowly moved himself into this position during the team's infil, and had been listening to their comms the whole time. He would've loved to have given them a heads up, but with the patrol only 15 ft below him, Spaz didn't think his little hole in the rubble could've stopped a squad's worth of firepower. He already saw the drones, and did not want his ass to get mopped. He raised his suppressed M42A Scope Rifle, a nice little piece he grabbed for this mission alone, and aligned a shot with the drone on the water, moving his hand millimeters to track it, but didn't take it. Once the patrol below him was out of listening distance, Spaz radioed in a whisper,

"I got a solution for that fast mover on the water."

Whisper
A member of the Akradian Black Guard was a tantalizing morsel indeed, a walking treasure vault to an information broker like Whisper, especially if they could be taken alive. A Blackguard would have all kinds of training, implants and conditioning to resist interrogation but that would just make the prospect all the more engaging. If Whisper had been working alone a target like this would have been enough to make her seriously consider abandoning her primary objective altogether or at least shifting it to the backburner in favor of pursuing the Celederaka elite. But alas, Whisper was not working alone, she did not have the authority or social leverage yet to cajole the rest of the team into shifting objectives so mercurially and even if she did it would likely result in chaos in a newly formed group like this. Reluctantly Whisper had to silently agree with Kazarczyon's assessment, a tempting secondary objective but not their main goal, besides there was another, more immediate issue to contend with.

The drone was clearly no standard scouting bot, even Whisper's modest ethereal abilities could detect a strange presence emanating from the heavily armoured machine and some of her sensors were failing to detect the thing at all. Whatever capabilities the drone had however, were currently secondary to to its unfortunate position right above the lower team. Whisper heard some of her teammates lining up shots or preparing other responses but none of them were going to open up hostilities without a direct order and by the time the situation was relayed to Kazarczyon down below and he reacted the bot might already have detected them. In fractions of a second Whisper calculated two different scenarios in parallel: Was it better to lay low and hope the drone passed them by or act now and try to disable it before it had the chance. It was a situation with limited information, so any extrapolation would by nature be imperfect , but those who refused to act without one hundred percent certainty could only be certain of their own destruction: to survive was to take chances, Whisper understood this very well.

"I am enacting a broad spectrum jamming protocol," Whisper said through the group comm line urgently, as she did exactly that. With the majority of her processing power, Whisper unleashed a torrent of junk data, malicious code and general interference at the drone, deploying dozens of different programs and tools in tandem to ensure as little chance as possible that the robot would be able to relay any kind of message back to its masters; for a short time. "This will elicit a hostile response from the target, but should provide a brief window to disable or destroy it. Those of you with suitable weaponry and vectors of attack please open fire now,"