Scene #7541: BIOMARE: Gamma Clearance

Owner	Pose
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	BIOMARE The usual exit from the FIXER GRID takes you to the same place, just outside of the "Foreman's Office." The cranking of the mining equipment, the late hour of your arrival and the shadows cast by the canyon walls make for ample cover. A team of grumbling engineers is hard at work dismantling the smoldering remains of some sort of transit vehicle, while a black-armored guard sergeant chews out a squad of embarrassed white-armored subordinates nearby. Your CLEARANCE will get you all the way to the bottom levels of the facility, and Phreak can keep digital eyes off of you. The receptionist in the entry hall is annoyingly anal, but you have the ID necessary to get him off your back, if you just play it cool and entertain his employer-induced paranoia. Away from prying eyes, Phreak shares an email or two to pass the time as you descend. --- Subject: STOP From: Cpt. Rikardo Rakara Jones <rikrak.jones> To distros Security, Robotics, Engineering, Supply, All Research 26:15 RKT \| Mar 5, 29487 hey. i dont care if the relcaim systm is broke til nxt christmas. u take the approved route or u get the AA guns. then u can fly the RIGHT route all the way bakc and talk to hr abt ur employment. and no more FUCKING ride share apps i sware to god. --- Subject: A Few Tips for Success From: Dir. Harlan Jameson Reply Disabled To distro BIOMARE All Ops 15:00 RKT \| Mar 9, 29487 Team, It seems like we are falling slightly behind expectations. After the hiccups we've had in our day to day, I feel I should touch base with you all and make certain you understand how we'll adjust moving forward. It is VITAL that you are taking the APPROVED route to work, using your OWN transportation (which your applications all stipulated as a requirement). Absolutely NO unauthorized Grid access on the premises! Distance from your last Reclaim point is NOT an excuse for unapproved travel routes, including the Grid. We are aware of the issue in the reactor room. NO ONE who is not a reactor technician or engineer should be there, or near the AI governor's enclosure. The company will NOT reimburse you for reclaim--this is a known issue and compliance is YOUR responsibility. Captain Jones and his men have orders to shoot on sight anyone who doesn't IMMEDIATELY produce valid ID upon being asked, as well as anyone seen to be 'tailgating' through security checkpoints. Present your ID when asked and don't just scoot in behind someone presenting theirs to get by. Finally, every terminal in this site will be password protected, and locked to only those employees entrusted with the relevant password. Sharing this password with anyone outside of your terminal's user list will result in immediate termination. Have a great day! Harlan Jameson Omni-Med BIOMARE Site Director ---
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	Long hallway after long hallway passes, and the signs of your earlier sabotage are evident all around. In the Alpha levels, Project Dhampyr appears to have been shuttered once again, following the escape of every last shade subject. Terminals in these darkened halls note that the pattern for shades is now 'unfit for production.' The corpulent, hateful little psychic creatures have been carted off somewhere else, allowing a shortcut through the sewers for the bold. Even if you avoid the sewers, however, things smell worse the further down you go. In the middle of the BETA levels, a cleanup team is hard at work on the remains of a now-dead triclopean sewer monster with massive stained treads in place of legs. Caught in TRI-PLUMBO's treads are the remains of several guards, with others strewn around it. Hapless translucent humanoid mutants wander aimlessly, mindlessly repeating swear words muttered by the cleaners. Rocks litter the floor, and several spots in the dead mutant's skin look like welts from the very same. The natural caverns of the DELTA levels are now home to a wandering nuisance which the guards have given up fighting, a quadrupedal creature with beady eyes and a deflated snout. It clumsily stumbles around, shooting stones from its snout at anything that wanders too closely. Caution tape warns you away from an observation booth in the wall, and the console used to create the aforementioned nuisance lies smashed in a fit of workplace rage. There is no one at the door to the GAMMA levels, which TIM and Sentinel before it once guarded. Further, the chemical-spraying mutants are absent. "Alright, notum singularity's through that door, third hallway on the left," says Phreak quietly. "Head of sec's probably holed up somewhere further in with the Director. His office is straight back, just past the data center. What's the plan? Once we hit something, the place lights up."
Maricel Thorne	Maricel's thin, polite smile begins to falter under the receptionist's hassling. Glancing from side to side to make sure there are no other witnesses, she reaches out with her nitrile-gloved hand, grabs the air, and twists. The air shudders and shimmers with a green-purple chromatic aberration and a high-pited whine, like a corrupted VHS tape; a sense of nameless pressure sets in as if the world were being squeezed along an unseen dimension. The man's eyes fuzz over with TV static. Of course, he lets them through. The smell of the lower levels doesn't seem to bother Maricel at all- if anything, the bleak and awful laboratory environment seems to lift her spirits, even though she eyes the employees with naked disdain and the mutant creations with professional pity. It's practically home turf. Certainly, her fluttering white labcoat helps her blend in. "I cannnn't see how we could justify leaving either of those untouched," she answers Phreak, staring at the door with a grimly thoughtful expression. "Perrrrsonally, I'd quite like to get my hands on the Director. So, who intends to handle the reactor?"
Karlan Nobles	With the destination and plan more or less figured out by everyone that's not her (despite Phreak asking specifically for it), Pramanix arrives with little in the way of announcing herself or questionable banter with her brother. It's just her today as she fiddles with her ID, feigning a look of mixed weariness and eagerness as she makes small talk with the receptionist (largely about the approved routes being easy enough to follow after getting used to the longer commute times). Thankfully, with Maricel doing something she doesn't quite understand, Pramanix is freed from trying to be polite about really needing to go to her station now. Heading into the lower levels, she keeps her hat raised slightly to keep her fuzzy ears hidden while making sure her tail is hidden in the toolbox that definitely doesn't have a hole in the side for that exact purpose. "I can hit the reactor. If what I've read about those things applies here, any sorts of wild temperature fluctuations should help break it, right?" She sounds chipper about the notion of just freezing over the whole thing, notwithstanding the physicals risks of doing so. "Plus, hitting the reactor means you'll have more time to do as you wish with the Director. Splitting their attention and all that."
Hibiki Tachibana	For what they've done already, it's still kind of weird to just walk right into the facility yet again as long as they have proper indentification. You think they'd be a little more wary after last time, but maybe that's big corpo for you. Too reliant on their technology to suss people out, though the receptionist is a little obnoxious. She mostly leaves the others to do the smooth talking since she's liable to do the opposite and instead grumble out some complaints about their employer if she had the chance - Maricel's skills sure are handy at times like this. She likes the trip down more, and the first set of mail they read on the way down actually gets a chuckle out of her. "I guess even these guys don't shell out for spellchecking." The second is a little more serious, of course, but... Well, it'll take a lot more than some increased security to stop them. She's glad to see all their work from before is still here though, and hopes the shades they released are doing alright. There's still plenty of awful - literally, from the smell - things to walk through towards their destination, but she sticks close to the others and side eyes employees and off-limit areas as they pass by. She sure doesn't want to get smacked with a stone. Fortunately, the door leading to where they need to go is still completely unguarded. "This is almost feeling a little too easy...so far, anyway," she speaks up quietly, then adds on after a second. "I'll help deal with the director and the head of security, then. I have a couple words I'd like to give to that guy myself. And I don't know the first thing about how this reactor works, so I'll leave it to someone who knows a little better." Even she realizes trying to punch a singularity might be not be the best idea. Maybe. Possibly.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	[Team] Maricel: Perrrrsonally, I'd quite like to get my hands on the Director. So, who intends to handle the reactor? [Team] Pramanix: I can hit the reactor. If what I've read about those things applies here, any sorts of wild temperature fluctuations should help break it, right? [Team] Pramanix: Plus, hitting the reactor means you'll have more time to do as you wish with the Director. Splitting their attention and all that. It's hard to be sure, since there's a hologram of a corpsec helmet imposed over his face. And it'd be hard even without it, considering he's a blue-hologram man when he's kitted out to fight--but his tone suggests he's smiling. "Between you being here now and what me and Liza did last time, you oughta be in a good position to do that," he says quietly to Pramanix. "You just wanna find the AI governor in the same room and kill it first so it doesn't rat-fuck every little thing you try and do. Silver lining, though. Techs can't get in right now without getting their shit shot off--thank Liza for that--so that AI's running hot by now. I'll be coming with. "Everyone knows where they're going. The map from Phreak displays your destinations clearly. Bercilak shoulders his axe, the hologram flickering like scan lines on an old TV. The large, grey, ominous door opens when the first of you get within the sight cone of a hastily installed automated clearance reader that wasn't there last time. GAMMA ACCESS [Team] Hibiki: This is almost feeling a little too easy...so far, anyway. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDNLPcWBUAg BIOMARE is a sprawling place, built on a budget--but it's not hard to see which areas got the brunt of funding. The biochem corpus, laissez-faire as it is, boasts sophisticated technology and apparently little oversight. That's behind you. What's in front of you is another big line item on the list. From the moment you step through, you are greeted with halls of sterile, polished white. Hibiki's remark is eerily accurate in a way that grows more uncomfortable the longer the silence persists. Automated checkpoints demand IDs, gun turrets point your way only to ease after scans pick up your clearance cards. As you pass by, observation rooms aplenty--it might have been one of these rooms where TIM was made to 'test' the creations, but the lights are off in these rooms; the doors locked. Huddled misshapen figures can faintly be made out inside, so too the occasional gleam of something wet when the light catches just right.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	SINGULARITY - Assist: Phreak The 'reactor.' It's huge. Takes up an entire room, with a vaulted ceiling extending high above even Bercilak, were he not with the other group. The walls appear to serve as some sort of shielding, made of a ceramic in tesselated triangular patterns. You stand on a floor made of something hard and transparent. Looking down, you can see the metal, coiling body of a particle accelerator, with a dense maze of ladders and hatches that only a technician or an experienced saboteur could navigate with speed. A hole, for lack of a better word, exists in space. It is contained within a constantly fluctuating polyhedron, only visible because of trace particulate matter disturbed by its undulations. The lights are an unnerving shade of 'something fucked up here' red, the turrets blind to you. Bloodstains are splattered on the wall in several places where unlucky technicians have met their demise. The closer you get to the hole, even with that apparently protective field, the longer it seems to take for you to do what you need. Apparently the hole exists in time, too. Beneath its dark, apparently straining form there is a specially shaped protrusion in the otherwise uniform floor, like a funnel. Something within it is emitting a blue light that fails to escape the singularity. At the north end of this same room, visible beneath the transparent floor, is the terminal for the AI governor. Even with the screen partially blocked by the claustrophobic design of the maintenance bay, you can make out the glow of a cluster of warning notifications and readouts.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	DATA CENTER - Assist: Bercilak Here's the computing core of the entire place. The Director's office is through a door at the north end of the large, circular room. Two mobile computing units, each a sphere about the size of a medicine ball, float slowly between miniaturized terminals, their pronged mechanical probes flitting into and out of access ports. Alien lights shine from within these computers as they tend to the many processes necessary to keep this place running. Reflected in their surface is the distorted form of an Atrox security officer. "Gotta admit..." Captain 'Rik-Rak' Jones stands at eye level with Bercilak, and is built enough to make the latter look human by comparison. "You're good." A stun baton is clutched tightly in his hand, as the computing units halt their motions. You feel as if you're being watched. "If you made it this far, you gotta be. Been a long, long time since someone got here. So quick, too. What was it, a month, tops?" "Verily," says Bercilak amiably. Rik-Rak barks a surprised baritone laugh. "Fuck me. We got ratted by Avalon? Didn't think you guys liked getting dirty." Bercilak chuckles. "Nay. Not Avalon." The captain of the guard shrugs. "It don't matter. See, you guys made it past the 'kill' part. Past the 'permakill' part, too. Now you're right on 'capture.'" The stun prod crackles as he says the word. The computing units shine from within--with a red light. Ports in their sides open to reveal the crackling forks of some manner of energy weapon.
Liza Grier	You're now imagining the Starbound teleport noise. Then shiny white floor walking sounds. Click clack click clack. "I know we kind of have to, but doing this whole walk-past doesn't feel quite right." Liza crackles faintly through her helmet. That voice mod is broken in a very specific way and she will never, ever fix it. "I've walked into places plenty of times, right before blowing them up, but I'm not even in plainclothes or anything, and not right past all these guns. Feels like I'm being taken on a tour. Like being welcome, but not in a smug kind of 'come fight me' way; the scumbag kind." When the group splits, she waves off, and indicates with some kind of esoteric hand gesture to go along with "Today I get to show you what it is I do." before vanishing off into the reactor core room. Upon actually entering it, the first thing out of Liza's mouth is a semi-sarcastic yet appreciative whistle. Given the helmet, it sounds like a really scary Combine trooper noise instead. "These arrogant motherfuckers. Even Letheia doesn't actually let anyone inside the singularity shielding. I thought this was supposed to be running off the space rocks they were digging out of the ground? Usually the particle accelerator is what they plug into a pot of water to make steam and turn a wheel. They're funneling it into the event horizon? I want to line up every exec who's ever said they don't have the money for anything since they built this, all in a neat row." She motions at Pramanix to stay close. "Stick to the outside of the room as much as possible. The more time dilation you get stuck in, the more of a liability you're going to become. How well do you think you can handle the climb? Rather than gunning for that AI immediately though, Liza currently uses her obscured position by the entrance, out of metaphorical instant aggro range, to boot up all the tech stuffed into those quadruple eye pieces at once, and trace, specifically, where the bulk of the energy in the room is first coming from, where it's going, and then where it's coming out. This is an important step.
Maricel Thorne	Maricel rolls up her sleeve- just the one sleeve, the left one- and starts rummaging in her right pocket as Captain Jones halts them. "Gotta admit," he says. She pulls out a syringe full of awful glowy chartreuse liquid and finds a vein to jab it into, her body starting to glow faintly from within as it circulates. "... We got ratted by Avalon?" A blue syringe now, dangerously full of bubbles. "... It don't matter," the enormous man continues, giving her time for one more shot in a hideous blaze orange. She casually tosses the empty needles onto the floor with a clatter-clink-clink, in total disregard of sharps biosafety. I want to say, "your entire operation disgusts me morally and professionally". Rant and rave a little bit. But I don't really feel that kind of venom. It wouldn't scare him, and it wouldn't satisfy me. So instead, as the ugliest colors of the rainbow glow out from under her skin, she takes off her glasses, folds them up, and stows them in her pocket. "Now you're right on 'capture.'"- that finally gets a response out of her. "I can't let you do that," she says neatly, not really making eye contact. "Your doctors wouldn't know perfection when they saw it." Maricel holds out her arm, pointing her palm towards Captain Jones's chest. The meat and bone flowers open with a ratcheting noise, revealing some kind of two-pronged metallic structure nested between ulna and radius. It crackles with bioelectric organs, conducting ominous little arcs like a Jacob's Ladder. It whines with an awful, convulsive energy buildup. And then- with a noise and a flash like having front-row seats to a lighting strike- it blasts the man in his chest, burning itself out in the process. "That was meant for the CEO," she says offhandedly, "but you'll do."
Karlan Nobles	"The AI governor? When you say kill it, do you mean physically or..." Pramanix replies to Phreak with a mildly troubled noise, although it's not in the 'ugh killing' sense. It's more of the thinking-hard noise, as though she's trying to find the right words for it and taking longer than she'd like. "Electronically? I don't usually handle computers, but..." Suddenly, she breaks into a grin. "I've broken quite a few computers without realizing how I did it. I should be able to do it again here if it's something that sensitive." Silver lining indeed. With the destination decided, it's time to head for the reactor! Even with the credentials provided by Phreak, she's still careful to stick to more isolated paths and keep her head down to avoid drawing too much attention towards herself and Liza while occasionally rummaging around inside that toolbox to keep her face partially obscured. 'Feels like I'm being taken on a tour.' "It'll be alright. Their attention's likely just elsewhere thanks to everything else from last time." She replies to Liza with a brief chuckle, remembering to keep her voice down again while heading into the red-lit room of ominous blood and blue. The blank look on Pramanix's face practically confirms that she has no idea what she's looking at. Context clues certainly help, but things like 'singularity' and 'particle accelerator' just go right over her head as she follows behind Liza, practically clutching that toolbox to avoid rattling anything. "I can handle it well enough. My sister's the true expert at climbing, but I've slipped out of my chambers more times than I should have without anyone noticing." Another confident chuckle, another self-shutting up, and she observes Liza idly while plotting out her own approach to all of this. Blasting the machinery she doesn't understand how to destroy yet is likely to just trip alarms unnecessarily early. Liza's suggestion to stick to the outside of the room and avoid the time dilation is enough of a hint that the weird blue space probably isn't going to be good for her, either. Instead, Pramanix focuses on the bloodstains, the turrets, and the dead workers. Even from a distance, she's trying to map out potential blind spots in the turrets' firing angles, looking for potential safe-enough paths to actually reach the terminal. Once she figures out a maybe-safe path, she relays it to Liza, and will go for the first one that seems good enough.
Hibiki Tachibana	"Be careful over there." Hibiki wishes the REACTOR GANG good luck with their endeavors when the time comes to split up, but she's pretty sure they won't need it. If anything, the AI managing the place is the one she should be feeling sorry for. Her own comment remains in the back of her head as they press on, where she tenses up and silently readies herself at each checkpoint, then relaxes each time they're let through. Regardless of any spats she's had with Liza recently, she agrees with her entirely in this case; it seriously is kind of unsettling how unguarded the place feels when you just have the right keycard. Again, too easy. Still, she won't complain. At the data center, something about the circular space they find themselves in makes her feel like it's almost an arena--though that might just be because of the absolutely towering Atrox that's blocking their path with his weapon primed. Immediately, her eyes narrow, drifting between the halted computing units and then back to Captain Jones. It's not every day she sees someone who can out-bulk Bercilak of all people. "...Sounds like you were expecting us. Or maybe hoping we'd make it here." No need for holograms or anything like that any more, so Hibiki is more than happy to adjust her Symphogear's scarf and square up. Feet spread, fists at her side and one held a little higher than the other, and knees bent ready to move. She's expecting the machines to be the first threat to worry about given their weapons. "Which makes me wanna ask why you didn't stop us sooner. You could've if you really wanted to, couldn't you? ...I don't suppose we'd get anywhere asking you to give up." She takes Maricel's alpha strike as the signal to finally move herself, where she immediately makes to twist to the side while kicking off the metallic floor - coming down in a high arc that'll put her out of the immediate firing line of it only to come down right on top of it, boots-first, to plow it into the ground and leave them with one less thing to worry about.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	[Vicinity] Liza: They're funneling it into the event horizon? [Vicinity] Phreak: Shit, I dunno. But maybe this'll help? Check it out. Phreak sent file 'reactor_2.iiff.' This interactive image file allows the viewer to rotate the schematic, but it appears to have been updated since the last time Phreak shared it--apparently the maintenance team have been using it to track issues since the turrets otherwise kept them out. The comments get more desperate (from the idiot neurotic types) and annoyed (from the 'run out the clock' types) as days go by. Liza's got questions in mind. With her eyepieces, and the input from the maintenance techs, she can easily find the answers. oWhere is the bulk of the energy in the room coming from? The particle accelerator was designed not to bombard water and turn a fan with steam, but to bombard a specially designed notum rod, thereby creating the singularity. oWhere is it going? The material on the wall--those strange tesselated triangles--appear to power the facility via rapid fluttering motions induced by temporal and spatial distortions from the singularity, which is forcibly held in one place with a containment field. Some of the power goes into the particle accelerator to keep it running once the fuel is exhausted. Some, into the containment field, in a clever and roundabout way accomplished by electrical trickery. That field is generated by the 'funnel' in the floor. The power grid begins here, just behind those panels, a series of long cable conduits that stop and start in checkpoints, occasionally diverting and storing power in emergency batteries for critical areas (read: the biochem corpus and security). A huge part of what's generated here goes towards powering the biochem labs, and towards powering the data center, which is apparently where information is collated, prepared, and sent to the Director for review. Pramanix is lucky--the turrets don't seem to care about her. Without having to worry about a 'safe' path she can simply focus on the fastest, and as an experienced climber, all it takes to get a good read is thinking about it horizontally instead of vertically. Phreak explains the turrets, if she's curious: "Liza screwed with the IFFs to make 'em only shoot employees. We're fine." He shouldn't have said that last part. Every observation room opens. You can all hear it--so many doors opening in an empty hallway carries even into this room. You can also hear, rapidly growing louder... guttural grunting. Gurgling. Slimy appendages slapping against tiled floor. Hover-apparatuses whining gradually closer. "Oh, fuck!" Phreak executes nanoprogram Prolong Encounter... A swarm of chemical hurling mutants is stopped in their tracks--but even as they struggle against the restraints imposed by Phreak's nanites, their spit still flies through the air, smelling not of acrid poisons but of sterile stuff that lightens the head. Tranquilizers. A gaggle of those hateful little hovering fleshbags flies right over the welcoming party, giggling and blubbering as they assault the three saboteurs with psionic attacks! The intercom chimes helpfully. "Hello! This is the Director speaking. We've modified our Chemical Vindicators for capture purposes." He's trying to be pleasant. Liza can detect the shrill edge. "Please assume the position and await retrieval!" This op just got a lot harder.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	"It's quality work," admits Rik-Rak, as the smoldering hole in his white armor crumbles in uneven black bits. There's no healing factor, like Bercilak's. Hibiki and Maricel both can see that in plain, gruesome detail. But... he's still standing. Talking, even. "Yours, I mean." His already ridiculously proportioned body swells considerably, until he's towering even over Bercilak at a solid nine feet even. "I give you that. You, you'll never talk." Hibiki's foot crashes into one of the machines, cracking its surface. They weren't made for defense--but it's evident that someone is controlling them the way it rolls to avoid the worst of the impact. The one she struck goes flying nonetheless, and doesn't crash into the other only because of the multitasking acumen of the unseen pilot. Unseen... but not unheard. "Hello," says the Director through one of the machines. "I took the precaution of moving the majority of our products into the observation rooms. Your collaborators are being swarmed by our patented Vindicators, and the Brieflabbs--a personal favorite of mine. I don't expect your doctor to talk, nor your martial artist, and especially not your keeper. But the Fixer... he has that green edge, no? Not used to work like this. I give him a week with Captain Jones." There's a hopeful note there. One which Rik-Rak stifles. "They're better than you think, to get this far. You only caught them 'cause I talked you into printing guard rosters instead of fucking emailing. You email like it's going out of fashion. Every fucking day." For using a one-handed weapon against three people, Rik-Rak makes a very good effort. His strength is enough to challenge any of you on your own--and the Director's computers, just as Hibiki suspected, make for an annoying obstacle with their timed stun-blasts. Rik-Rak goes for temples, wrists, ankles, tentacles. What ever is in his range, he find a way to press that prod to it, and he is damned patient with it even as he's getting wailed on. "Been working here fifteen years," he says, grunting to duck under one of the Director's drones. "Never had a breach, never gonna. So no," he says to Hibiki, charging forward to shoulder-check her as she comes down from her kick. "Nothing doing." There's nothing left for this man but the hollow satisfaction of 'the job.' He knows it. And like a lizard sunning on a rock, he isn't concerned with much else.
Karlan Nobles	'Liza screwed with the IFFs to make 'em only shoot employees. We're fine.' "Ah, that's a relief. Then if that's the case..." Pramanix gets to work heading forward with nothing in her way! And then everything's in her way as the rooms open, gross noises become audible, and Pramanix outright sees the swarm of mutants spitting globs of gunk all over the place. Thanks to hearing them (and Phreak yelling) before she sees them, she already has her bell in hand and toolbox tossed aside to start rining it with that usual rhythmic tone that signifies the beginning of her snow-calling ritual. With enough space to maneuver, meanwhile, Pramanix even gets to use the power of ~~interpretive~~ ritualistic dance in tandem with her constant bell ringing, weaving through the falling spittle (mostly) where sudden gusts of wind and blankets of snow keep the bulk of it from hitting her right in the face. She stumbles lightly as some of those flies drift over her position, some of those mind-addling effects seeping into her head however, but she adapts to that quickly enough. She adjusts her movements roughly when the snow starts turning into a barrage of hail centered on those very flies, some of the larger chunks even turning into spikes outright. "Assume the...? Just what kind of vile things do you have planned for us?!" Despite the almost serene tone and steady rhythm of Pramanix's bell-ringing, the tone of her voice is anything but as she shouts towards the intercom.
Hibiki Tachibana	Rik-Rak is made of some ridiculously stern stuff, nobody can deny that. Matching Bercilak is one thing, but pushing past him in height and bulk /and/ weathering a direct hit with just grit and whatever is behind that absurd musculature? This is going to be even harder than she gave it credit for. Doubly so when it comes to light that these computer drones are actually manned, and the voice of the director gets a narrow of eyes out of Hibiki as she regains her footing post-kick. "He's right. You seriously need to work on your security. And you won't be getting your hands on--" She's cut off by the Captain's shoulder-check as she comes down, left with no real way to get out of the way of it without also eating one of the stun blasts being thrown around. All she can do is turn to absorb the blow as best as she can, carried a short distance before she's sent tumbling away, ragdolling a bit before flipping into a righted position on her feet. "...him," she finishes with a groan, before taking a sharp breath and running back in. When it comes to an opponent as big as Rik-Rak, her smaller size can be an advantage - she can weave and move around him a lot easier than most, springing up to counterattack with uppercuts and jumping roundhouses when an opening presents itself. On the other hand, he's particularly precise and she has to be wary of any openings, lest she leave herself open to get shocked, the number of times that happens slowly racking up. The other half of her time is spent trying to use his bulk to stay clear of the drones' fire. "It'll take more than whatever you have in store to take them down...and we're not going to be that easy, either!" A shout back towards the Director is punctuated by Hibiki attempting to circle around Jones and leap high enough to try and deliver a spinning axe-kick directly down onto his head before flipping off and away. "Fifteen years of watching all the awful things happening here--haven't you felt anything about it!?" She figured she'd get this kind of answer from Jones, but she still tries anyway. "Doesn't sound like you get along very well with the Director in the first place...!"
Maricel Thorne	It only takes Maricel a couple of whacks from that baton to decide she really doesn't care for any more. Her high-tech implants conduct it remarkably well, making surface zaps turn into deeper scorches; even if she can't feel a thing, having internal burns still puts a damper on her fighting ability. Recovering requires getting clear, so she quietly shifts to a rearward position while Bercilak and Hibiki press in. "Don't give them an opening to gloat," she says to Pramanix drily. "It'll only make them more irritating." While the mad science juice pumping through her veins works to mitigate the electrical damage, she finds a chance to do something petty- placing her hand on the nearest intercom, she feels out its electrical connections, routes it back, and tries to psycho-electronically overload the other end, hopefully making it explode with sparks in the Director's face. With her implants still sputtering from the shocks, it lacks the punch to really injure him, but it's a nice statement.
Liza Grier	"It's not like I'm worried about a trap or anything." Liza previously replied to Pramanix. "The feeling of belonging here makes my stomach churn." In the present though, during the scanning process, she says "Good, but be careful. We need to do better than just smash the control panels or crash the OS. We need this thing to go wrong in a very specific way. As ridiculous as this whole thing is, all the most common points of failure will take out 'everything around it'; any reactor is designed so that really going nuclear is obviously the least likely outcome. It's more of a science than shutting it down safely." A pause while she downloads the last of the diagnostics from Phreak. "And we want it to go nuclear. Why? Because even if everyone and everything in this facility drops dead and all the computers short out, they'll just move in a new shift and reboot the things next week. They'll keep doing it, forever, while they still have the property." She points towards the funnel, then draws a line to the panel wiring through the wall. "Looks like this stupid fucking hole in space runs on two separate circuits. It's powered by the accelerator and contained by the field, and the field is powered by the capture system. Ruining the field doesn't seem to shut off the accelerator. We'll want to transfer all that power from the funnel to the coils, and maybe blow the underground batteries while we're at it. Not one stone on top of another." And then more mutants because of course. Phreak executes his weird nanite magic, and for a moment, Liza says "Okay. You've got them?" and begins walking, shortly before the spit flies at the back of her helmet and splashes on the personal shields. She pauses, expecting shrill bleeps from energy depletion indicators in her HUD. "No acid?" A different warning kicks in. 'Synthesising: Diethylamine, hydrogen, sucralose, oxygen, nitrogen, acetone, phenol, ammonia, sulphuric acid, bromine, carbon . . .' 'Administering: Ephedrine, Modafinil, Syndicate Combat Stimulants' "When I come find you, don't bother with assuming any positions yourself. I'm planning to make my own hole." Liza's electronics snarl back to the intercom system. Her wrist system rapid-fire chunks through half a dozen telecrystals, spat out like shell casings, and red light streaks into her hands to form some bastard space KSG that sounds like cocking a pneumatic hammer when she racks the action. "You can at least keep holding them in place, right P?" The open question is followed by a long sequence of back to back thundering booms. The barrel of her weapon vomits jets of fire and smoke engulfing a solid pound of scattered tungsten pellets with each trigger pull. Instead of crouching down into a defensive position, she keeps walking towards the AI terminal with smooth, steady, patient sidesteps, her axis of rotation fixed on the big fleshy mutant blobs like a gyroscope.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	REACTOR The hologram disguises dissipate the very instant you're struck, or strike something yourself--but this is the home stretch. What does it matter if you get seen now, when you're in the middle of rigging this place to blow sky high? The Director answers Pramanix: "Well, for you, I'd want to take a look at the market analysis from Omni-Sales, but my gut feeling is something involving clones." The hailstorm chews through the Brieflabbs (those psionic fat hovering thing) like a woodchipper, their leathery hides apparently very poorly suited to extreme cold. Some are speared through like greasy marshmallows, and some have their cybernetic thrust mechanisms pierced, flying wildly out of control. The next few that come flying in trying have gobs of Vindicator tranq-spit hurled at and frozen to their faces. The Vindicators fare better, but Phreak and Liza handle them. Pheak's form is a blue blur, his mostly-digitized body mostly unconcerned with friction or gravity--as if he'd turned on dev mode for physical space itself. "Yeah," he answers Liza, running up a wall and leaping off. That hard-light keyboard appears midfall as he moves to re-execute the program. "Resource intensive, but I can swing it. Moving some processes around." Her weapons blast the Vindicators apart. More keep coming in. Frozen, by Phreak, destroyed by Liza. More of them come in, just hurling themselves at that door right along with the flying Brieflabbs, in a disgusting and strangely sad suicide charge. These creatures never knew anything other than what the bastards who run (soon, 'ran') this place beat into them. "Ah, you're successfully disabling the governor, I see. Disappointing! But not disastrous. Ahem. Attention, team--" "Hey, let me stop you right there. This is Mary, the QM. The answer's no. Robotics told us what's going on down there and we need the haulerbots for evac. So, uh... get bent?" "Mary, I want to remind you that your employment here is tied to your housing and medical benefits as discussed in your offer letter and relocation contract..." "And I want to remind you that Clan applications for my income bracket are, like... a hundo creds." "Could we get Robotics on-line to confirm, please? It seems as though there's been a slight breach of--" A gruff New York accent answers next. "Fuck yourself, there, Mr. Replies Disabled." There's a squeal as the Robotics team lead evidently yanks out the cargo bay's PA box. "..." A minute of tense fighting comes, and goes. If the reactor room looked like a crime scene before, now it looks like a war zone. Smoke rises from broken mutant bodies, icicles and hailstones lie shattered and often bloody. "Outgoing file transfer... FUCK!" Despite the fighting being over, Phreak is furiously tapping at that hard-light keyboard. "L, keep at the governor. I gotta switch tracks or else MC Fucko's gonna upload the files to Omni-Med's cloud storage." When Liza finally has the opportunity to get at the governor, she'll have all the more reason to want to make a structurally superflous hole in the Director. There's a lot of annoying 2FA shit that she has to circumvent, a lot of 'it looks like you're trying to...' and a lot of 'are you sure?' Essentially it's designed with the idea in mind that anyone using it is an idiot not to be trusted with the slightest ounce of influence. But--this thing has been doing the job of a whole maintenance team by itself. Bit by bit, she can chip away. 'Rat fuck' was the perfect word to describe this thing's conniving nature, and for the short but tense time it takes her to overwhelm its defenses, the AI governor may worm its way into an honorable mention on her shit list of 'worst AIs.' But it's done. And no reinforcements are on their way... which just leaves first the precise manner and timing of Liza's 'going nuclear,' then the Director,, as soon as she's set up the fireworks.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	DATA CENTER Maricel has the satisfying feeling of a blow successfully connecting--she can feel it, through that momentary psychic connection. She can also feel, briefly, the strength of the mind on the other end. A lot of brute mental force, a lot of fine control and a lot of processing capacity. "The man can hold three conversations at once," says Rik-Rak, his abdomen eating Bercilak's axe despite attempting to juke. The Green Knight made a hard read, it seems. Rik-Rak grunts. A knee the size of Maricel's head is aimed the good doctor's way. He's given up on trying to chase Hibiki down, and is instead trying to weather the martial artist's blows. "Dozens of windows open on his GUI. Pilot two remotes like it's nothing. But he can't see what's right in fucking front of him until it's too late. Then, it's--" "I AM ABOVE YOU! I'M ABOVE ALL OF YOU! GET BACK TO YOUR POSTS OR I'M REPORTING YOU ALL TO INTERN-OPS FOR JOB ABANDONMENT! I HAVE EVERYONE'S Y5s PULLED UP NOW!" "...that," says Rik-Rak with a disgruntled sigh, attempting to get his prod under the Green Knight's breastplate while Bercilak is corralling him with the axe. "So no," he says, his motions beginning to fade as he bleeds profusely. The tactic was to keep all of you busy while the drones blasted you--but Hibiki's agility and Maricel's unconventional attacks dashed it early and decisively. He's losing steam--whatever program enhanced his musculature is fading, now. "I don't like him. No one here does." He brings up a hand to keep her foot from crashing into his head--but too slow. Her immense strength and his waning stamina draw him to his knees. "...felt anything. Everyone on the company payroll's got feelings. But we have to eat. And we can't all just abandon everything for a 'hundo creds' like that Mary kid. I let my feelings control me, I go hungry. You get used to it, and if you're lucky, you find something to focus on. An anchor. I don't... expect you... to...." His breathing slows to ragged breaths as Bercilak wrenches the axe free. He's too weak to fight anymore. An automated warning blares about the reclaim network being offline--the third such warning you've heard since being here. Kill or capture--your choice. But only the director remains.
Liza Grier	"Good shit." is about the extent of what Liza has to say in the moment for Phreak, with most of her thoughtspace otherwise pretty heavily occupied. When the mutants just keep coming and coming and coming, she resorts to teleporting in unloaded, rolled up bands of bright orange warning-marked shotgun shells, and quickly slotting them into the tube wells in twos and threes whenever she gets a few spare moments between blasts. Her patient and dangerous march through the open severely tests the multiple cycling layers of her shields, her armour, the intermittent pylon and greeble cover, the e-shield she brings up and down when running dry, her stimulant implants, and what reflexes she can use for constantly positioning herself in the narrow gaps between interlocking attack lanes all around her. She only fixes the weapon over her shoulder when physically at the terminal itself, activating the e-shield and fastening it to her back for the same length of time, to get that tortoise shell protection. There's only a short while of trying to operate the governer terminal manually, and then out comes her cryptographic sequencing kit. The radio asks for a status update, and she answers, quite honestly, I hate this piece of shit mainframe so much." The hardware she starts plugging in is designed for literally speed only; a design completely and utterly useless for any kind of subtlety, designed to skip the hacking minigame completely and divulge no XP. She uses it to accelerate through the endless piles of asininely redundant security filler, the sheer density of its layers more troublesome under the circumstances than if any of them were individually very robust. Objective: Cut secondary stasis field power. Reroute to overclocking particle accelerator bombardment output. Send overflow to main electrical generators and battery banks. Induce stasis field asymmetry. Field strain maximized in the upper third arc in the dimensional well. Gradual unbalancing of pressure and gradual distortion of field integrity estimated to reach critical mass and violently rupture in five --no, there's workers evacuating, and audibly discarding their profit gods, so, ten minutes. Nobody coming down here to fix it. "Phreak. Can you trace the intercomm route?"
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	THE DIRECTOR When everything is done, only the Director remains. Straight through the Data Center. There's no more mutants. The corpsec here favor neither the Director nor Rik-Rak Jones enough to stick around. The attempt to upload files elsewhere is thwarted. "Outgoing call to legal offices of Pinetti, Pinetti, and Pinetti," Phreak reads from a display. The blue wireframe figure's voice conveys his amusement effectively where his featureless face can't. "Which I presume you're blocking," sharply answers the Director. He's a slightly rotund Solitus man--insultingly average and mundane-looking for all of the butchery that goes on here under his name. "Your friend, I imagine she's around the corner, wanting to make good on that promise she made. To say nothing of the others." "Uh huh." A sigh, from the director. He stands, rising from his executive desk and slipping off an AR display full to the brim with windows. Error messages. He's dressed in a far-future variation on the economic war paint of old--a three piece suit, in contrasting grey, black, and white. A heavy revolver hangs at his hip, and a sleek looking droid steps around the desk to stand at the opposite end. A brightly burning blade of curved plasma rests at its hip, dextrous hands poised to make a lightning draw. "Dude, seriously?" Seriously. On the bright side--it's clearly the move of a man with nothing left. The last card in his deck.
Karlan Nobles	"Hold them? Of course I can, L." Pramanix gloats slightly as she does a bad job at trying to not find some amusement at the sudden use of aliases even with the disguises fading (and not realizing that Liza might actually be referring to Phreak). Without the disguise, it's easy enough for the Director to see that Pramanix isn't human at all between the poofy ears and tail, and the mention of cloning has her grimacing just a bit more at the thought. "You plan to create more life, then? If it was used for benevolent purposes, maybe you'd be on to something, but we've seen what you created here!" And also created something of her own, in Pramanix's case, but she's not the one on trial here. She's a little preoccupied just blasting that snow around, anyway, Well, until that bit of infighting goes on between the Director and Mary. It's actually kind of awkward to listen to, although not so awkward that Pramanix outright stops her bell-ringing and snow-calling dance ritual or anything. She just rings it a little less hard for a while to eavesdrop on that, billowing winds notwithstanding and eventually dying down to a more gentle snowfall once the battle comes to a close. It's only after that incredibly awkward exchange finishes that she finally arrives at the Director's hiding place, finally speaking up again with a rather calm smile on her face. "As I was saying... You're going to have to answer for your crimes. If you surrender yourself sooner rather than later without..." She gestures at the revolver and the blade. "... Any funny business, then I might be able to convince my friends not to hurt you." That's a completely bald-faced lie, but Pramanix is quite good at sounding like she believes it. "Now, would you at least consider putting the gun down? My friends are much faster than I am, so I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop them from doing who knows what to you no matter how hard I try."
Maricel Thorne	Right after electrocution, head trauma is the worst thing that can happen to Maricel. That's where her brains are! All two-dozen-ish of them! Not even a reinforced skull and opti-viscous cerebrospinal fluid can save her from a knee of that power, and her eyes briefly go crossed as she staggers back from the blow. Blood trickles down from her nose in the aftermath. The giant of a man eventually goes down- mostly due to Hibiki and Bercilak, to tell the truth. She steps forward, finally on his eye level now that he's on his knees. Her eyelid twitches slightly. Liza's right, she thinks. How messed up do you have to be, to get like that? To get satisfaction from a job that's just hurting people to preserve power? The lucid part of her wants to take Rik-Rak's head off. If someone else asked her for advice, that's what she'd say to do. But it's hard to take your own advice. Even when it's doctor's orders. Maricel's need to fix people wins out; the moment the giant stopped being an active threat, he became a patient. The syringe she embeds in his neck is medicine, not poison, although her face is full of venom as she depresses the plunger. "You'll pull through," she says dismissively. But not without a catch: she grabs his head with a hand wreathed inneon-staticky energy, too, battering his mind in a moment of weakness to implant a sharp compulsion: Quit being a jackboot. The director gets far less sympathy from her. She reaches into her labcoat and pulls out a gleaming, ultra-sharp surgical hacksaw. "I hope you understannnnd," she purrs, "why we're going to kill you. But if not- ahaha. I won't waste my breath." Her lunge is fast enough to make her labcoat audibly flutter behind her; the horizontal slash she lashes out with might be intercepted by the killbot if it's quick, but will carve unnaturally deep regardless of what it hits.
Hibiki Tachibana	Rik-Rak is brought low--though by the time he does, and Hibiki has landed back on her feet, her expression is less the fully determined one that she came in with and is instead bearing the pursed lips and slightly cast-aside gaze of someone with some mixed emotions. They started partway through his explanation of how things go here - and that ear-piercing yell through intercom - and though she shouldn't be surprised, the lapse in attention that it gave did mean she took several blows over the course of that fight more directly that she otherwise would've. Her hand is nursing one point where she got harmbatoned as she lets out a sigh. "...This sucks," she says at the entire thing. "This whole place sucks. And it sucks that people have to stuff down their feelings and deal with it just to get by. Even after we shut this place down, it's just going to keep happening in other places, and most of the employees here..." She glances down at one of her fist, and shakes her head. "...There's only so many problems you can solve like this, I guess." She puts aside her personal problems to look down at Rik-Rak after, with her rather predictable mention of wanting to capture him cut short by Maricel already working to heal him, to a soft exhale from the girl. She'll accept this outcome. --- Then, all that's left is to come face to face with the one responsible for everything. The fact he looks so completely normal really does only make it worse...and she didn't expect him to go down quietly. These kind of guys just aren't the type. Her face is hard, and if she had some positive feelings about Captain Jones, they're in the negatives when it comes to him. "...You really are an idiot." Hibiki also springs forward, at full speed--where she intends to win the quickdraw in her own way by rushing him down and smashing into his leg with a low kick fully capable of breaking it. This is followed up with an elbow strike aimed for his back that's meant to complete the one-two by sending him facedown into his probably finely carpeted office ground, hard. It's her /hope/ that if she floors him quickly enough, she'll be able to clear him of immediate killshots--and since he won't be a threat, maybe manage to bring him in the for the capture, too. Though like Pramanix, she's not really confident she cando that, she'll sure try.
Liza Grier	The purpose of asking Phreak is of course to teleport pretty much right there. Considering, after a brief sitrep check, it seems the others have wrapped up their end too. Nice. About what Liza had expected as an optimistic outcome, given Maricel spearheading that, and Bercilak being a maniac, but pleasant regardless. The topic of feeding the Director to the Shades comes up, and Liza's thoughts bubble up in a grim, sour garbletone. "I don't like the idea of using the creatures they turned into weapons as weapons. Feels like buying their product." She does indeed walk into the office from around the corner. She walks in unarmed, though the slasher movie deliberate clomp-clomp of every metallic footfall is plenty menacing in of itself. "You all go out the same. Did you know that?" says Liza, now suddenly in the mood to shove past Phreak to get to the center of the room, rather than congratulate or thank him. "Do you know how many of you I've seen die? Over and over and over again. I started counting, you know. Two in twenty try to barter for their lives. Three in twenty try to run. One in twenty think they have a chance if they can just get in a sneak attack. The other fourteen just cower. But all of them, all of you, make their last ditch effort only once they've turned to the same thing they always have. You all go out after turning to the law." "Stall, fight, escape, bargain; it's all just stalling until the law comes and saves you, or at least avenges you. Because that's the reason the law exists, isn't it? You made it. It's your creation. Your slave. Your first and last weapon. You designed it, so it exists to serve and protect you. When all else fails, when people don't listen, when the machines don't work, not one of you, ever, realizes anything; not one of you can find the balls to stand and deliver." Not only just unarmed, Liza removes her helmet; the first time on this planet. Her voice comes clearer, but somehow no less full of harsh, metaphorical static, like something in the words damages the radio wire in the brain. "In your last minutes, you run to the contracts. You run to the legalities. You call security, the police, the army; the people you made. And you all die full of the same fucking ignorance. Go to the fucking grave not understanding why the law, at the very end, didn't work." Two intentions become clear in one moment. One, why she'd hidden, and never explained the one use of, a certain power during every operation on Rubi-Ka. Two, why she'd entered without a weapon, let the others rush into the man with the gun and the bodyguard robot, and not attempted an attack of her own. The questions answer themselves when something purple flashes behind transparent irises, and when patterns spiderweb red around them. Specifically, all the blood in the Director's fingers, then legs and arms, running backwards against his heartbeat, compressing into his chest, and then slowly bursting out from under his ribs with the steady cutting pressure of a dozen haemokinetic daggers. Vivid, slightly translucent, scarlet blades are patiently pulled into the air through an equal number of sucking chest wounds, and then mimic the process of splitting beef ribs from a carcass.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	[Vicinity] Pramanix: My friends are much faster than I am, so I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop them from doing who knows what to you no matter how hard I try. [Vicinity] Hibiki: You really are an idiot. [Vicinity] Liza: You all die full of the same fucking ignorance. Go to the fucking grave not understanding why the law, at the very end, didn't work. [Vicinity] Director: I hear you, I understand, and I value your--
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	That bodyguard droid is tough. With a nimble somersault it easily vaults the desk, sword coming down in an arc aimed from Hibiki's shoulder to her hip. It loses the sword arm shortly thereafter, due to Maricel's hacksaw. Where Rik-Rak was absurdly tough and patient, this thing is annoyingly inventive. The droid kicks up its severed arm and wrenches the sword free, using it to one-armed deflect further strikes from Maricel. Something changes, in Harlan Jameson. He smiles, removes his glasses, tucks them into his coat pocket. There's a chuckle that'd be warm, were it not for the man's eyes. Like a snake. "Actually, I do care. I care so much about whatever insipid cause drove you troglodytes to burn years of progress like so much kindling. I care so much that I wish I could buy a pack of chewing gum for all the shade-mutants you set free, so they could chew it for hours and still be hungry." He dives behind the desk--Bercilak moves to flip it over, but is stopped in his tracks by some sort of psionically-charged nanoprogram, a field of amber light enveloping him. Liza isn't the only one with a secret weapon on deck--he doesn't have her artful talent for hemokinesis, but the Director's got something almost as nasty. Something spiteful. Hateful. It feels like someone trying to stab her temples with needles. "You think that you're smart, because you see the stick? Because you know why it's used?" Blood vessels pop in his eyes as he attempts to fight an uphill battle against her mind. For Hibiki, following a blast from his revolver: "It has no better nature, the stick." Bercilak: "No fear of wild animals." Pramanix: "No fondness for polite overtures." Maricel: "No regard for moralizing." "In the end, it always comes down on you anyway, hard enough to matter." His ribs burst open. Through gritted teeth, "That's what I like about it--this thing that your friend can describe so well. It puts mud people like you in your place way more often than not." That's when Liza will Understand--this man is not only in the system, he knows it and loves it and will die for it. He's going to try and take everyone with him. "Berc, he's a Crat!" "Treuli?" A rare bit of sarcasm from Bercilak. "Wherefore dost thou awene that?" As Phreak's SMG is slowly, shakily being pointed at Maricel. Bercilak laughs, shattering the Director's hold to dramatically intervene. A trigger is pulled and the Green Knight's armor sprays sparks everywhere, projectiles clanging and ricocheting in a rapid stream. Harlan Jameson's last act is one of spite--a last-ditch effort to hold everyone in place as that ten-minute timer counts down. "I'm spent!" cries Phreak, struggling to get free. Liza's knives finally overcome his telekinesis, forcing his grip open and spilling his blood in a dramatic, sudden explosion. "I am not," says Bercilak smugly, as his nanites sweep across the room, countering the stasis field and erasing the last work of one Harlan Jameson, Site Director of Omni-Med's BIOMARE campus. In a little under eight minutes, the place will be nothing but a bad memory and a red number somewhere in some forbidden account, only to be seen by ghouls of Jameson's ilk. "Let us wend-the-fuck-awei from here."
Hibiki Tachibana	Unfortunately, trying to stop this guy from killing himself is a lot harder than she expected. A lot harder. The bodyguard droid counts for a lot more than she expected, which is a near-fatal underestimation on her part - she's barely able to skid to a stop in time to raise both arms to let her gauntlets block the strike that'd rip her right open, struggling against it briefly with an exchange of blows until Maricel comes in. She hastily rebalances herself, eyes darting back to the Director-- And everything changes. Bercilak stops. Something is happening with Liza...and she herself is once again forced on the defensive when she has to swipe out with an arm to stop a bullet from sailing through her, though her lack of a proper stance and her surprise over the shift in the situation means she falls back a pace when she does it. "Damnit...!" She's caught between wanting to try to force her way through all this crap to Jameson or help Maricel before Phreak is made to fire when Bercilak thankfully does it himself. There's a moment of pause even so, where she's still trying to wrap her head around just what the /hell/ he's trying to do when he's already fighting a losing battle... And then Liza wins out, and he's gone in a sudden moment of superviolence. There's a tightness in her expression as Bercilak cleans up the field, and Hibiki lowers her arms with a grimace. Even someone like her got the gist of that speech, but one bit naturally stuck out. "No better nature..." That's something to ruminate on, but somewhere that's not going up in smoke in less than ten minutes. Still, she spends a few seconds longer standing right where she is after Bercilak speaks up before she finally does turn around to leave. "...Right. Let's get out of here." No love lost for Harlan Jameson's death it seems, though she's markedly quiet on the way out. She is, of course, going to stop to retrieve Captain Jones. Despite the difference in size, she does well enough when it comes to literally just throwing him over her shoulder and ditching.