Scene #5911: Chemical Heist!

Owner	Pose
Penelope Vasquez	It's a dark night in the city of Boston. No moon, no stars- the sky is blanketed by clouds. There's the scent of a storm in the air, but it's not raining, not just yet. Bottom must be about to drop out. Despite the lack of natural light, everything remains well-lit enough to find one's way, even in the darkest streets; great glowing neon signs and flourescent bulbs buzzing heavily on every corner, creating stark shadows at all angles. The designated meeting place for the job is atop a building- the stairwell is public access, thankfully, for those not capable of making it up with otherwise stupendous means. It overlooks the target boat- seaside property. The waves flow placidly against the industrial docks, filled with cargo ships and similar seafaring vessels. It smells like petrol and fish up here, atop the constant blanket of polluted-smell that covers the area. Large machines move containers onto the vessel docked below- marked with the tripple-triangle logo of the Tribranch corporation, otherwise unmarked and unremarkable. Cranes shift stacks of cargo towards the boat, while smaller drones carry single containers- either hauling them up a gangplank to be secured on the top deck, or carried through an opening in the side, tip level with the concrete. The small shapes of moving workers and guards mill about. It's just a typical night for them. Atop the rooftop meeting point, there is... nobody. Instead, an index card taped to a pole, and four little earpieces in a plastic baggie. The card reads: Make introductions, beep me when ready. Love, Penny.
Finna	Getting atop a building is easy when you're... a bird! And so it is that one of the people who approach the meeting zone is... not so much a person, right? A big ol' raven is not people. Probably. Either way, the bird has gotten to this altitude, and it performs a few sweeps in the air scanning for ANYONE that might have eyes where they shouldn't be... before it finally drops down to the rooftop. ... And perches itself atop the pole, waiting for others.
August Kohler	Among those arriving at the rooftop is one August Kohler. The redhead's dressed in a hoodie, hood up, with a mirrored bracelet over his wrist and a pair of black gloves on. The redhead climbs using the staircase, keeping his hands to his side even when he reaches the top, quick access to the pistol concealed at his side that way. Once he's actually to the top...the bird is mostly ignored, shooing it off with a wave of a hand as he moves to read the note, grab an earpiece, and when other humans arrive, introduce himself (because he's never actually met Nova face-to-face). "August Kohler. Let's get to work, shall we?"
Nova Terra	Correction: The plastic baggie has three earpieces. One was apparently already scooped up before others started arriving. It seems the newer arrivals to the rooftop are not alone. The tell-tale sign of a cloaking field appears, the blue light washing over a feminine figure, quickly revealing the Ghost: Nova Terra. Nova is already standing at the edge of the rooftop, her visor over her eyes as she scouts out the ship and surrounding dock with its zoom functions. As her sight hovers over the people working down there, it begins highlighting them. Neutral grey for the workers, hostile red for the guards. Nova is already planning approaches, however she doesn't ignore the others joining the mission. Nova turns around to face the arriving August, pulling her visor up from her face and onto her head, "Nova Terra." Like August, Nova doesn't realise the bird is on their team. Nova raises her canister rifle to rest on her shoulder, "Looking forward to working with you." With her free hand she fiddles with the earpiece already in her ear. A light tap before asking, "Is this thing working?"
Septette Arcubielle	Septette is a little bit late. Not because it's fashionable, or because she's preoccupied- simply because from the moment she arrives, there's the mounting risk that someone or something will detect her. Just by being nearby, she's risking being picked up by the high-frequency radio screech of her core or the dazzling radar refractivity of her plating. Let's hope nobody's paying attention to that. Not trusting the stairwell, Septette rides a rising narrow pillar of ice to the rooftop and disperses it back to fog as she steps off. "Septette Arcubielle, present and accounted for. But you knew me," she says sweetly while gluing an earpiece to one of her metallic ear-fins with another bit of ice. "Good to be working with a couple of fine, subtle operatives today." Why does she give August a sidelong look at that word? What a hypocrite.
Finna	No shooing the bird! The raven spreads its wings and puffs up as if to ward off the shooing hand, and then leans down and-- The noise it makes is weird to say the least. A vibratey-snort, almost like a bad impression of an engine revving. If the engine was made out of walnuts, anyways. One might realize just then that the BIRD HAS ONE OF THE EARPIECES tucked under a wing (WHEN did it get that?!) as it takes it out, holding it in its beak! THEN, the bird executes a STARTLINGLY HUMAN-LIKE backflip off the pole... And melts into a much more human-like shape in that little moment of time before landing on her two feet. Finna then deftly fits her earpiece... "I'll make up for whatever they lack at!" She crows confidently at Septette! "Alright! Finna, on-LINE! That's the word, right?"
Nova Terra	Nova is briefly surprised by the sudden transformation from bird to person. She then silently berates herself for not paying attention. It should have been plainly obvious to her that it was no ordinary bird. But she let her guard down. She quietly mutters to herself, "I'm slipping..." But surprise doesn't excuse bad manners, so Nova nods to Finna, "Nice to meet you. Neat trick, could come in handy." Septette also gets a nod of greeting, though nothing is said as the two have worked together before.
August Kohler	"Finna." Is what Finna gets out of a (briefly-surprised) August in greeting, and Septette gets a nod as well, though August's hand slides down his face with that emphasis of subtle. "Alright, looks like the gang's all here. You all ready?" And soon, he'll press the button to notify 'Penny' they're ready, unless there's objections.
Penelope Vasquez	While the birb's diligence is likely valuable, it seems that there aren't any viewers of the action up here- at least, nobody watching with a critical eye. There are a few buildings with windows facing their own, maybe a few people on tiny building-clinging patioes, but nobody that'd be a threat, or watching with binoculars. Nova's scouting is most likely invaluable. The majority of guards are on the ship itself. It seems Tribranch doesn't trust human dockworkers onboard; they only direct the large trundling tank-like cargo haulers inside. There's a few at the end of the gangway. Playing cards, maybe. More walking the top deck, chatting. One stops, hefting some boxy-thing off his hip, whacking it. In time with Septette's arrival. Hm. Presuming most have their earpieces in, a hispanic-accented voice would flow through it. And... crunching, eating sounds. Cereal, maybe. "Hi- hey, hi. Sep, know you. Think I've heard at least a few of you. That boat's leaving as soon as the cargo's all on, so we're working on a timelimit here. I'll skip to the good stuff." More crunching, the scraping of spoon on bowl. "Short version- I'm not down there. Got you team 'cause if I slip up and get my face seen by those guys it's bad news. But, I do have plans for the ship, some details on the guard accompaniment. Call me eye on the sky. 'Cept, y'know, I don't actually have eyes down there. You're the eyes." Cronch. "You're looking for a cargo container labeled C-X-pound-four-oh-five. Inside should be big plastic crates, same numbering. I don't know how many there'll be, but the more you can snatch, the better. Ship is multi-layered. Big cargo space on top, big-ass hold in the center, and a level for secure cargo. I'm guessing it'll be on that one." You can practically hear the hand gestures as Penelope speaks. "Ideally, IDEALLY, this will be a ghost job. Get in, get out, kill some guys if you gotta- but nothing that makes the morning news tomorrow. I don't know you people that well, I'm hoping you can manage that. If you do fuck up, fuck up big. Destroy the entire ship. No evidence." A pause. "...destroy the ship after you get the target off. Hope that's self explanatory." "You guys need a map, describe what you seeing and I might be able to patch you. Can probably put you in on who you're looking at too. Rank-and-file should be Fantomas assholes, gang-turned-PMC, no big. I know they got a few 'brancer stim addicts in there though, so don't be cocky. Good luck. Keep me updated."
Penelope Vasquez	Looking down at the site from the rooftop vantage, there's two obvious entry points- the large cargo opening in the side of the ship, being heavily traveled by workers and massive cargo-container hauling treadbots. The other is the gangplank, though there's a little guard outpost at the bottom of it, even if the guards are sitting on milk crates playing cards. Of course, there's likely more inventive ways to get on a boat, but that's the obvious options.
Septette Arcubielle	True to her word, Septette does in fact go for a swim. With the relative paucity of guards on the docks, she just finds an unattended patch of water a couple hundred feet away from the ship and steps off the edge. To say that she sinks like a rock would be to impugn the buoyancy of rocks; within a couple of seconds she's landed on the bottom and started sprinting towards the ship. Once she's directly underneath the target ship's hull, Septette creates a rising column of ice to boost herself up until she can lay a hand on its underside. A hemispherical bubble of ice materializes around her once she's in place, like an air-filled blister on the cargo ship's bottom with herself inside- it ought to be sufficient to keep any further water out. With that done, she holds up her hand to the hull, electricity sparking between her index and middle fingers like an arc welder. Slowly, carefully, she tries to burn a person-sized hole in the hull and then pull herself up inside. The ice-bubble ought to prevent that from sinking the ship, but she's going in blind with regards to security measures inside!
August Kohler	As the situation is go, August nods to himself and speaks over the earpiece. "Got it. Ghost job isn't something I'm great at, but I can give it a shot. I'll play distraction if something fucks up." He glances over the roof down...and sees his entrance. The cargo opening, and the treadbots. It's time to go. "Let's all try and meet up at the goal." August says to the others, before heading down the staircase again, moving towards the site. He's going to try and jog over there, attempt to avoid worker notice, and to get into the heavily-travelled cargo bay, attempt to stick near the cargobots, attempting to climb onto a cargo container before it's moved inside and crouch real low, hoping that nobody's actually trying to look on top of them to notice him. It's not a great plan. August Kohler is not much of a planner, and he has no other idea on how to get in there, so he needs it to work.
Finna	"Hopefully won't have to kill... but we'll see!" Finna isn't a very murderous Lunar. She has little stomach for having a bunch of GHOSTS after her guts... and so, tries to keep her body count down. There's also the matter of not wanting to stoke the Po Soul too much on death and blood. That's never a good idea! Now that they're all set loose though.... Finna takes the form of a seagull and starts lazily soaring 'round the boat, looking to see who's there, what's going on, and anything else that might be important! She will also be running interference if absolutely needed. Like, if someone starts getting too near August's operation and might notice him sneaking on, she'll divebomb the worker to steal their hat and make a show of trying to eat it.
Nova Terra	Plans are dicussed and hatched over the radio, all the while Nova is planning her own infiltration. She's letting the others get a headstart, as she doesn't anticipate any real trouble with her own infiltration. It's the main part of her job, after all. Seeing August starting to head for the main cargo ramp onto the ship, Nova instead turns her attention to the gangway. It's probably best to split up the search so they can cover ground more quickly. And so with her path eyed, Nova brings her visor back down over her eyes again and steps off the edge of the roof. It's a quick fall to the ground, during which Nova's cloak reactivates, its light flowing over her until she invisible once more. A light thud later and Nova lands in a crouch. She holds still for a moment, confirming she wasn't spotted, before she rises up into a quiet run. Nova's initial approach is fairly swift, meaning there is a bit of a ripple from her cloak. However in the dark of night, combined with plenty of cargo containers as cover, it's doubtful she'll be spotted by any of the likely inattentive workers. It's only once Nova reaches the bottom of the gangway that she slows. Beginning to approach the guard outpost, Nova's steps are slow and quiet, so she can remain completely invisible. It's unlikely the guards playing cards have the tech or skill to notice the Ghost, even if they weren't distracted by their game. Hopefully it'll be easy enough for Nova to get past, make her way up the gangplank and begin the search.
Penelope Vasquez	It's time to split up, gang. Jinkies. Septette's underwater schenanigans are effective at entering the lowest parts of the ship, even if 'sprinting' underwater is far more like 'trudging through slime.' She has to cut through three seperate hulls to actually get inside, but once she's in, she's in. Well. Into a cargo container, which she also had to cut through, which went much more smoothly. Inside, her heavy-metal footfalls kinda echo off the corregated metal. There's a few medical examination machines in the container, tied down with straps. Difficult to tell the exact purpose, but there are several very sharp pieces and a few cameras on snakelike hoses, though they're all flaccid and dead. It's closed shut with a heavy latch, but faint voices can be heard from outside, even fainter footfalls. "The fuck is up with the scanners? It's reading like there's an attack helo right on top of us or something. Fuckin' static." Regardless of what comes next- that seawater ice won't stay solid forever. Not nearly as long as fresh water. Sep may have significantly shortened the time limit for the operation. August's sneaky beakery is somewhat effective thanks to the dark night and unattentive workers. Unbeknownst to him, he nearly runs into someone rounding a corner- but a sudden divebombing and thieving seagull distracts him long enough for the redhead to dart away. Eventually, he can climb to the top of a cargo stack, unseen. A drone trundles it's way over shortly enough, picking up the container and slotting itself in line to load it on into the main cargo space- absolutely cavernous. There are a LOT of crates to search, if it's going to be a purely by-eye affair. Nova's approach, seeing as it's being made by an invisible professional spook, is easy peasy. The guards are chattering idly at the end of the gangplank around a fold-up card table. Someone's reported tech malfunctioning onboard, a few cracks at the ass size of a lady guard named Justine, the usual. Shortly enough, she's onboard. Here, it seems people are actually taking things more seriously. The guards stand out like lightbulbs in all-white outfits, jackets and crisp pants- all with some kind of bright orange decoration. A neckerchief, a tie, something. They hold assault rifles casually but alertly, patrolling in regular patterns, though some slack occasionally. Containers are stacked in rows on the deck as well, but they're shallow. The housing and administrative portion of the ship rises at the aft.
August Kohler	Finna's abilities would be very much appreciated if August had any idea of how she just saved his hide. Once he's inside and there's no signs of anyone watching him, he starts moving off the cargo stack, trying to figure out where on the crates their serial numbers are listed, and then starting to move crate by crate by crate to see if any line up. It's going to take him a while, but it's worth a try, especially if someone else can find a shipping manifest to help him speed up the deed.
Septette Arcubielle	Melting? In my magical ice? It's less likely than you think. With no real 'mana bar' to speak of, it's pretty trivial for Septette to layer a persistent active effect back on her bubble, preserving it at sub-zero temperatures near-indefinitely. Of course, the blatantly unnatural thermal phenomena that'll cause may be noticed in the next few minutes, giving them a very different kind of time limit- but by then, she figures they'll either be done or spotted anyway. With that taken care of, she turns her attention to... the guards outside? No, the medical devices! Let the guards come to her; she's busy with secondary loot! A series of horizontal purple lines manifest above her right palm, akin to a musical scale. Little motes of light dart to and fro along the "strings" as she places her left hand on one of the machines, feeding her a steady supply of data on their internal structure and intended function. Hopefully, that'll help her to figure out just what they're for... and as a convenient side-effect, the active scanning ought to make her even more obvious to whatever form of detection they're picking her up through.
Nova Terra	Judging by their approaches... Septtete from below, August through the cargo door in the middle and Nova up the gangplank onto the deck... It seems that they've successfully managed to reach all three areas containing cargo. While Nova agrees it's more likely to be in the secure cargo area at the bottom, they can't discount the possibility that it isn't. So Nova leaves the other two to their own sections, starting her own search through the containers on the deck. Nova's not going for a lethal approach for this mission, since the objective is zero exposure. August's own confession about his lack of stealth abilities makes that an unlikely goal. But until the very moment it becomes impossible, Nova is going to do her best to accomplish it. For this reason she's avoiding confronting the guards, letting her cloak keep her hidden. However, Nova does get an idea on how she might be able to cut down on their search time. Finding a nice little corner to stop in, Nova reaches out with her mind, focusing on the chorus of internal voices coming from those onboard the ship. She's searching the thoughts of the crew and guards, listening for any information that could be useful. The chance of any of them knowing the specific location is low, but there might be something about where to narrow the search.
Finna	Nobody ever expects the animals to be PLAYING TRICKS WITH YOU! Finna-gull doesn't keep hold of the hat for long. Just long enough to make it obvious that It Is Not Edible, so the seagull drops it on the deck. It don't want it! So it flies off, back into the skies and over the deck... With instructions about the ship's layout, she quickly deduces where the bridge OUGHT TO BE, and swoops that direction for a looksie...
Penelope Vasquez	August can quickly tell there's absolutely no rhyme or reason to the arrangement of the crates. Presumably the drones are reporting where they're putting everything to some master controller, but without access to their internals, there's no real way to tell. Utterly random arrangements of lettering and numbering emblazoned on the sides of each corrugated metal container. At least the walking is easy, with the big space between stacks left for the tread-bound drones. In fact, there's one now. It pauses as the much smaller August approaches- really, it's just coming towards him, and there's nowhere to hide unless he wants to noisily bash a hole through the side of a container. A light on it's front flickers, before the drone speaks- artificial and modulated tones, perhaps surprisingly quiet. "Please wear your identification openly at all times on automated worksites. Please present identification." Septette's examination would reveal the medical devices are indeed medical devices. Specifically, what looks to be some sort of auto-doc. The patient is strapped to a central plate and the assorted tentacle-like cutty bits go to work- it appears designed to automate cybernetic installation. Or removal. Made of conventional metals and circuitry, nothing too special. Outside, chatter is louder. "Wh- what the fuck is up with this thing, really? Look at this." A few thumps. They're close. "Maybe it's picking up something in one of the crates- got jostled, turned something on? And- hell, the fuck? What're they keeping in this one, dry ice? Feel that." Thumps right next to Septette's head, on the metal near it. A second voice. "...secret illegal snow machine got turned on and it's fucking it up? Worth a look?" There's no audible answer, but the heavy latch on one end of the container starts to move. Nova can probably deduce from the mental chatter of the guards that the administrative areas are on the bridge. Which is fairly obvious. What's odd is that there are some segments of thought she absolutely cannot drown out, butting into her head like they're being beamed around the site. It makes it difficult to really scan, but those hold interesting, military-like chatter all their own. A single commanding voice- typically responded to by single-word affirmatives and negatives. "Drone reports unidentified person. Probably worker. Flagging ignore." "Roger." "Movement near secure hold entry, topside?" "Negative." "Secure hold entry, main storage?" "Neg." "Cameras green. Foreman dockside reporting fifteen minutes 'til kickoff." It's difficult, but enough focus can tell where they're coming from. The commander is in a high point at the aft, atop the brick-like structure there. Maybe a command center. The responders are scattered through the ship- one patrolling said brick structure, one at a standing point within it. Two below in the cargo hold on August's level. Finna's flying eye in the sky can see quite a lot- views through porthole windows can confirm what Nova is deducing. There's a room full of computers and the like behind glass, with a figure seated- strapped into a seat, maybe? Hard to tell. Screens show scrolling cameras, though there's nothing amiss on them. Yet. Flickering databanks and processors. A safe. There's other easily identifiable rooms- bunks, mundane storage. Smoke and steam occasionally bellow from a small exhaust pipe leading to what smells like the galley to her.
August Kohler	August has no idea where the crate is, and keeps moving...up until the drone finds him. Well, shit. As the others tell him to play it natural, he doesn't raise the mirrored bracelet to his eye like he wants to, or otherwise he would have roasted it. He immediately moves like he's crouching down, turning towards the drone slowly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. I was wearing it, and then it slipped under a crate. After that I tripped and have no idea which crate it fell under. Well, some idea, but." August moves as if he's going to check under another crate, speaking as he does so. "Think it was...crate...a CX crate? Yeah, that sounds about right, I was looking at one of those. CX-pound-405, that was it. You know where that is? Once I can find the ID I'll present it to you, I swear." August doesn't expect this to work for long. But he's hoping he can maybe trick it into giving him a clue or something.
Finna	Well, since the bridge seems like the most interesting place on the ship, Finna decides to swoop down in for a closer look at some of the windows. Nothing a normal seagull wouldn't do, right? She starts by diving in closer to take a peek at what that person who's maybe-tied-up is actually doing, since someone being TIED UP probably means there's Funny Business Going On the gang can take advantage of!
Nova Terra	It's an odd sensation. Nova is used to having people's thoughts constantly chattering around her. But this is different. It's like these thoughts are being intentionally broadcast into her head. Another psychic? No, that doesn't seem right either. A quick question to their benefactor reveals it to be a form of wireless communication in this world. Mental based. Interesting. Listenning in on the secure communications provides some useful information. Nothing directly helpful in locating the cargo they're after. But it does present a potential source of such information. Considering how unlikely the crate is to be on the deck, it seems reasonable enough for Nova to abandon her own search there. Instead she begins to make her way towards the upper levels at the ship's aft. She's going to pay that commander a visit... And if the others fail to find the cargo in time, Nova will just have to force its location out. Nova once more stalks along the deck of the ship towards the aft. The guards probably won't be hard to get past. However, once she reaches the interior, she's expecting the so-called Tribranch operatives to provide more of a challenge.
Septette Arcubielle	Septette has very little by way of takedowns that are both nonlethal and immediately silencing. They've got advanced sensors of some sort, and almost certainly some kind of radio they can communicate through- if this isn't perfectly clean, she'll have set off the alarm for sure. Step one: muffle sound. Septette opens her mouth and lets out a deafening silence that casts a pall over the area. While clearly and nauseatingly unnatural, ought to disguise her next actions for a moment longer. A moment later she punches her arm clean through the wall of the shipping container slightly beside where she heard the guard and sweeps it through the wall at neck-level towards the door, carving a long hole in the container as she does. If her arm hits a guard's throat, she'll immediately pull them into a chokehold through the container wall, trying to cut off blood-flow to the brain long enough to induce unconsciousness! And, lastly, the troublesome matter of the other guard. Her spare hand raises towards the door and crackles with coruscating electricity, readying a magical taserlike blast for when it opens. It's "less-than-lethal", not "nonlethal", but hopefully these guys don't have any heart conditions.
Penelope Vasquez	Unfortunately, these drones seem to be the truly stupid type. Himming and hawing and asking for help doesn't cut it. It just speaks; "Failure to identify noted. You have been flagged an intruder. If this is a mistake, report to nearest security personnel to rectify. If this is not a mistake, report to nearest security personnel for processing." It starts moving again, the heavy treads firing to life as it crawls across the deck. Towards August. Sandwiched between two towers of crates. He could probably outpace it at a hard run, but he'd be forced into the main thoroughfaire, which seems much easier to be spotted in! More comms crackle into Nova's mind near-simultaneously. "...drone is reporting an intruder on that unidentify. Flagging orange. One on the lower entry, break and investigate. Call on backup if needed." A closer examination from Finna reveals that the dude is indeed strapped to the chair, but unfortunately, it's not the kinky funtimes kind of strapped in. Looks medical. It's a he, small, thin, pale. A thin wire protruding from his forehead, looping back into his skull behind his ear. Cables connecting his neck to the chair. Peering closer in sterioscopic BirdVision, it seems minute twitches from his body seem to correlate to changes in motion on the screens- cameras panning, menus flicking open and closed in a blink. Neat. Nova's stalk across the upper deck is unmolested, the expert ghost able to exploit lapses in focus to stalk to the aft of the ship. And, y'know. Being invisible also helps. The doors inside are unlocked and unguarded. She's in. Within, it suddenly stops looking like a rusty cargo ship, and more like a sterile lab environment. Cameras. Most doors have a keycard lock on them. A rattle of thought from the commander. "...habitation, motion alarm, right hand hall. Nothing on the cam. Probable false alarm, but with the orange, take a look." Almost as soon as it's out, someone is rounding a corner. It's difficult to tell much of their features. Male, probably. Coated in thick armor that shares similarities in design to beetle plate, all rounded and sleek. It's like the Apple Store made white full body armor. He's carrying what looks like an honest-to-god mideval mace, though somewhat high-tech. His face is covered by a featureless white half-dome helmet. There isn't even a way to tell which way he's looking. He stalks towards the door. Is he... sniffing? Septette's spoken silence casts a nauseating dullness over all sound in the small area for a moment- the guards can probably hear the blood flowing in their own bodies, for half a second. Before one of them is abruptly met with a hand thrusting through the metal wall beside them. There's a few silent sickening crunches as the man is pulled through the corrugated metal- one arm is bending a way it should not. The other flails against the iron-solid arm at his neck, before slapping at his side- a pistol, pulled free and unloaded into the general area of Sep as he struggles to maintain conciousness. A few shots definitely ruin the machines she was just looking at. The door swings open more quickly as the guard is subjected to the unnatural silence- but, at Sep's operating speed, he doesn't have time to pull away before a low-wattage bolt strikes his chest, sending him dropping. And steaming, his dapper orange kershief is smouldering. The silence fades as the gripped guard continues to gurgle and struggle.
August Kohler	The drone doesn't play games. August sighs, exhales, and doesn't run from it. Instead, he raises his mirrored bracelet to eye level, stares at the drone, and speaks aloud. "Persona." In a spark of blue ligts and energy, a robot soldier in a dress uniform appears, an old-timey rifle replacing one of its legs. The leg is lifted up and pointed straight at the drone... And the Tin Soldier lets out a burst of fire, hot enough to try and melt straight through the opposition and burn August a path forward. August expects company now. There's a tap to his comm. "We're probably about to go loud, be ready!"
Finna	With August seemingly in trouble, Finna thinks she needs to cause a distraction. The foxgirl - currently a bird - doesn't have a lot of understanding of these machines. But she's quick witted and catches on fast. She sees the little motions, how the restraints are clearly not meant to hold someone against their will - just keep them from falling out of the chair. And so with this the way it is, she hunts for an entrance. Vents. A door. Anything. Even a small opening will do! And there just so happen to be some exhaust pipes. Very shortly, a Mouse-Finna scurries across the floor, over to the wired-up man. As soon as she gets near some bared flesh... her jaw OPENS UP WIDE like a snake's, revealing the TINIEST snake fangs. CHOMP! She needs only a moment to deliver her package - a mixture of natural psychoactive drugs from various sources, blended to send ANYONE on one hell of a vivid headtrip. But that's the entirety of her intent. Just make the guy LOOPY AND USELESS for a bit, not really hurt. This stuff should wear off... eventually. AND THE MOUSE SCAMPERS, but not before looking at the monitors for any sign of these boxes they're after!
Septette Arcubielle	"I'm very sorry about this," Septette croons in an unsettlingly calm voice as she wrenches the pistol out of her victim's hand and tosses it aside. If she does this correctly, he's probably got... ten more seconds of consciousness, maybe? She drags him with her as she walks towards the downed guard, taking care to extinguish the man's kerchief and rest him against a wall where he'll be found. All the while chattering in the tone one might use to soothe a small child to sleep. "You're not going to die, okay? You're going to wake up, and everything's going to be fine. Count backwards from five for me. Five, four, threeeee..." Her voice tapers to a soft whisper as she waits for the stubborn guard to fall unconscious, then lays him against the wall next to the first. He ought to come to in a few minutes. Almost as an afterthought, she wrenches his arm back into an approximation of the correct shape. "Right then." Hands are dusted on a soggy shawl as a trio of softball-sized hovering drones pop into existence near her. They disperse throughout the cargo hold, searching for leads on their primary objective- that ought to be considerably speedier than her looking for it on foot, with their combined vision ranges.
Nova Terra	'Shit.' She wasn't sure what did it, maybe it was the opening door. Whatever it was, Nova has drawn attention. The warning from August comes in, which is probably good timing as judging by his appearance, Nova doesn't imagine she'll get by this operative undetected. She will have to deal with him... Nova invisibly stows away her rifle. Even if the weapon is surpressed, the sound will be quite noticeable in this enclosed interior. So instead, she grabs the hilt of the sword on her back and pulls it around. The psi-blade activates... Nova dashes forward! The enemy operative will likely notice the blur in the air as Nova's cloak fails to compensate for the fast movement. But hopefully by the time he realises what it is, it'll be too late as Nova swings her monomolecular blade for the man's neck, attempted to separate his head from his shoulders with one blow.
Penelope Vasquez	That poor, innocent cargo drone stands no chance. It's melted to molten steel and sparking wires in moments. There's a damn near simultaneous announcement from the commander- this time, not purely into Nova's head, but instead, a PA system through the ship. "Drone has been attacked in the lower hold- we are under attack. Guards stationed in the area report, immediately! Everyone else- hatches, ba- aaaaaaggggghhhhtttthheeee+++t++####hheeee fffffuuuuc++++?" It trails into static. Static that is also being blared into Nova's head. How annoying. Right on que, a quartet of snazzy-dressed guards round the corner shortly, each toting a rifle. None ask questions, all simply get into semi-professional shooting poses and open fire on the schoolboy and his schoolkillbot. Before Finna, the technical officer slumps in the seat, the straps the only thing keeping him from falling right out of the chair. The electronics in the room spaz out in a truly psychadelic display of flashing lights and colors- wait a minute. On that screen for a second, a cargo manifest! Assuming Finna has even basic computering skills, she'll be able to search for the crate, finally. Secure storage, as suspected- a pinpoint on the exact row, column, and height of the thing. Perfect. Septette's drones can probably see more guards gearing up, shaking the sleep or boredom off their bodies, and rushing towards the very loud fireblast caused by August. They can also locate some kind of freight elevator, with the same sterile aesthetic of the upper level. Must be how they actually get cargo to the secure hold. There's a single motionless figure in front of it. There's another perched on the box stacks above the confrontation August is about to face. The Tribranch operative facing down Nova moves much, much faster than a baseline human should be able to. The flicker in the air is percieved. He ducks. He swings his arm in the same fluid motion. The mace sparks with lightning, arcing along the walls before it embeds in the metal wall. He yanks it out. It all happens in the breath of a second before he leaps towards the cloaked saboteur, screaming bloody murder.
August Kohler	Despite the threat of getting his limbs broken, August isn't going to sit back, not entirely. He's not going to fire bullets, but as he's shot upon, the Tin Soldier frowns, raises its flamethrower again, and fires a burst to try and melt most of the stream of bullets (and possibly set someone on fire if they get too close). It won't hit all of them - several impact on the Tin Soldier, causing linked pain with August who staggers and clutches his chest, wihle one hits him directly, lodging into is arm. He forces himself to suppress a scream as he books it down the corridor, setting flames behind him to create hazards that are difficult to cross to try and block off a pursuit. August's breathing is ragged from both the pain and the adrenaline as he focuses on reaching the freight elevator Septette detected and sent to him. He's running as fast as he can because he absolutely knows Septette will break his limbs if he doesn't.
Nova Terra	Nova is definitely surprised by the speed of the operative. She's barely able to get her body out of the way of the strong blow, sliding past the armored man before stoping behind him once more. Her cloak quickly fades away as she drops all pretense of stealth. As the 'brancer leaps towards her, Nova raises her glowing blade to meet the man's mace. The enhanced strength provided by her hostile environment suit should let her counter whatever boosts this guy is getting from the drugs in his system. But probably not overpower. So for the moment, Nova keeps her opponent locked in a brief struggle between their weapons. Nova isn't idle during her delaying measure though, as she focuses her mind towards the operative, searching for the supposed connection between mind and machine. If she can just trigger the interface to overdose him!
Septette Arcubielle	Septette breaks for the freight elevator in a mad dash, casually toppling cargo containers and flash-erecting ice walls behind herself in patterns carefully designed to turn the freighter's layout into a maze. With any luck, that should severely slow down any further reinforcements- though she takes special care to funnel any further pursuers directly past the two guards she knocked out previously. Despite his relative head start, the little murderbot overtakes August before long with her unnaturally long, loping strides. Matching pace for a moment, she glances at his arm with evident concern, but then... smiles? "I guess you really only need motivation to be a pacifist."
Finna	Finna doesn't need Skill when she has pure, unfiltered, pedal to the medal wits of the moon guiding her! Instantly intuiting a bit of how this works (it helps she's futzed with a smartphone a few times by now), Finna gets to work searching that cargo manifest for the coded boxes! It just takes a few quick finger presses here and there, right?! RIGHT?! "Now, where is it..."
Penelope Vasquez	A man screams as his clothing catches fire in the fiery wake of August's retreat. The fire alarms go off, on top of regular alarms- authorities have proooobably been notified. Who knows the response time. Shortly after, water streams all through the ship from fire-suppression sprinklers. Not enough to put out the intense blazes set by August, but enough to make absolutely everything slick. The only room spared, logically, is the room full of computery things Finna is in. Which, reminder- has a tasty safe in it. In some sense of divine timing- the storm outside breaks as well, finally. Rain pours from the sky in monumental sheets, clouds shifting to finally let in a little natural light- the boat is soaked in the glow of the full moon, through the downpour. August is able to escape any further bullets, unorganized and commander-less mooks running from the flames and confused in the wet, as well as by the chaos caused by Septette's toppling and wrecking. However, the figure at the elevator remains composed, as Septette and August reach it at the same time. Dressed much the same as the one upstairs, though her- it is a she- helmet has some kind of eye slit. Or sensor. Or something. A glowing blue triangle where presumably her face is on the helmet. She isn't visibly armed, but her posture is tense and ready. She speaks over the thudding of artificial fire-retarding rain. "I assume it's not going to go anywhere, but I'm obligated to offer you the choice to stand down here." Behind the pair, there's a screeching of metal. The figure Sep spotted atop the cargo containers is using a sword to slow a rapid decent, thudding heavily behind them. Same armor. It probably reminds Septette of someone. But the second figure- male- is twitching erratically. Up above, the Tribranch opperative is actually slowly winning the feat of strength against Nova's powered armor. The mace sparks and crackles with electricity, licking at the HEV suit. He isn't speaking, but there's a low, gutteral growl pouring from his neck. But- the wire in his head leaves him wide open for mental interference. And attack. Smatterings of memories crash into Nova at a breakneck pace as she searches for the connection between cyberware and mind. Dozens of children, being examined by men in labcoats. A horrfic, blinding pain that feels absolutely heavenly. Bodies. Bodies and bodies and bodies and blood. And the man is gurgling, strength failing, mind frying as unholy amounts of chemical concoction are fed through his brain. He flops, limp, dead, into Nova.
August Kohler	August sighs as Septette glances at him and then smiles...and then there's trouble. "Go fuck yourself." August replies to the woman facing them. The Tin Soldier readies its gun-leg...but it doesn't fire. August nods to Septette. And then, August leaps onto the Tin Soldier's back, which then jumps up into the air. Hopefully, it's long enough for whatever Septette has planned, and provides a distraction for her as well!
Septette Arcubielle	"I'm obligated to offer you the choice to forget you saw us," Septette replies easily as she comes to a halt in the artificial rain. "Otherwise, I cannot guarantee your survival. I'm sorry." Given that there's little sign of their imminent surrender, however, she raises her hand above her head. A curved blade unfolds from her forearm that really doesn't look like it should've fit inside her limb, and it crackles with coruscating lightning for a split second before she slams it into the floor. The first effect of the heavy impact is that the water under their feet- momentarily excepting August- becomes near-lethally electrified as the fire sprinklers prove a wonderful aid to conduction. The second is that it damages the floor, possibly to the point of causing a cave-in !!
Finna	Finna does have a VERY good look at that safe. And then the guy tripped out on the chair. And the screens. The radio mess is proving to be an incredible irritant, and it sounds like they'll have to deal with POLICE or something soon.... ... But police from what Finna's seen of them, don't swim too well. So she forsakes the safe for now and scrambles over to the computer again, looking for any obvious controls. Big buttons that would make this easy. Go forward, go backward! Of course, there are none. So that leaves Sir Trips-A-Lot over next to her... Finna takes HUMAN FORM. But this time... it's a 6'5" tall, broad-shouldered MAN OF A MAN, who's wearing only... well, something kinda like khaki pants. Nothing on his feet, or his chest - a chest that's absolutely covered in HAIR. He's got an unkempt beard and a big, wide, goofy-looking face, with scraggly black hair atop his head. The guy's absolutely covered in scars and muscles, too, for good measure. "SAILOR, WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT NEEDLES? We should've shoved off TEN MINUTES AGO. RAISE ANCHOR, HOIST SAIL. GET MOVIN', OR IT'S A BOOT TO THE HEAD!" A powerful, booming, gruff, commanding voice meant to shut down any second thoughts comes strolling out of Finna's man-mouth!
Nova Terra	Nova is not spared from the sudden sprinkling of water from the fire supression. Her hair starting to get damp as she struggles against the strength of the enemy operative. The floor starting to become slippery doesn't help either. Neither does the barrage of memories flowing into Nova. The horrific imagery doesn't disturb her much, but they are a distraction from what she is trying to accomplish. Especially as the memory of pain rips into her, Nova locking her jaw to keep from screaming out. She can also feel the effects on his mind as the chemicals build up, some of it transfering into her through the connection. Finally there is release, the operative going limp. Nova groans as she shifts to the side, letting his large mass slide off her and to the ground. Finally free of the pain and the drug-induced confusion, Nova leans against the wall, breathing heavily as she takes a moment to recover. Nova listens as the location of the container they're looking for is delivered by Finna. They need to get that and judging by the thoughts she's picking up, it seems everyone else is currently distracted. So Nova takes in a deep breath before she begins to move once more. There should be a stairway or two in this section of the ship leading down, providing access to the deck where the container is supposedly contained. If the authorities have indeed been called, there isn't much time. So Nova runs.
Penelope Vasquez	As Septette blasts her electrified blade into the now slickened floor, it penetrates far- with enough force to buckle even the tripple-hull of the ship. Seawater starts gushing into the cargo hold as electricity conducts itself through the wet everywhere. Chances are good that she fried some PMCs elsewhere on the wet deck, somewhere. The Tribranch operatives, however, are unaffected, stepping through the electrified water like it's not there. The unarmed woman rapidly becomes very armed as blades slide from her forearms, crackling with electricity. She leaps forwards to assault the littlest killbot in the room with blurring speed, a merciless and high-octane double-bladed attack. Silent, disciplined, movements sharp and practiced as they flow from one attack to another. And slowly speeding. The twitching male with the more mundane sword leaps towards August as well, though he's far more vocal. Screaming nonsense about how he's about to upload the boy and his bot to the ethernet and set free their true mindstate. But he's going for the Persona, not the boy, which is likely a lethal mistake. Far upstairs, Finna, suddenly in the guise of the manliest man, manages to shock the drugged-out cyberjocket out of his daze. He scrabbles to sit up in the seat, trying to salute before finding his hands bound to the chair. He then looks like he's trying one with his feet, but they're locked down as well. Eventually he just squeaks a panicked "Aye, sir!" The ship begins to lurch, then chug, then toss as it goes from zero-and-docked to full speed ahead, turned towards the open waters of the Boston harbor. The gangplank is tossed from the ship- a hapless cargo drone is launched from the still-open loading bay. The ship is sinking slowly, but once that bay hits the water, it's going to drop like a stone! Nova's journey, thankfully, is much calmer. Wet, but finding the stairwell down to the secure bay is easy enough. Locked with a keypad, but with how everything has gone to hell in a handbasket rapidly, she can probably just rip it off the hinges with psychic strength and continue on down. The secure cargo is small, cramped, dark. Cold. It has the air of a server farm, even though it's full of crates. Finna's directions are accurate- cargo container CX405. Within, stacks and stacks of dull green cubic boxes a few foot square. Lightweight. They jingle. They're marked "fra-gi-le." Must be a foreign language.
August Kohler	The electricity surging through the floor has August's eyes widening as he jumps and narrowly avoids it, right in time for a crazy cyberninja(?) to come at him with a sword. Or, specifically, the Tin Soldier. On one hand, this is bad - the Tin Soldier and August share all damage. On the other hand, the Tin Soldier is far more durable... And as the blade cuts into it, it remains standing, despite a clearly pained expression on its face and deep gashes in its chest, raising the rifle. August considers what to do, but both are pretty much horribly lethal, and August doesn't have /much/ time to consider with this guy shouting at him and stabbing him. An absolute flurry of bullets pours out of the gun and moves to spray the swordsman and hopefully get him out of August's hair. Or horribly murder him. Honestly, for the first time August is legitimately considering murdering another human being, August doesn't have many regrets. He'll deal with the moral issues later, and with not getting uploaded to the 'ethernet' now.
Septette Arcubielle	The female enforcer's speed is a little too much for Septette to match- but not too much for her to track, or to plan around. She deliberately sandbags her own agility, lagging her reactions by a fraction of a second and only narrowly deflecting the blows by taking them on her forearms. The damage is minimal, but she deliberately acts pressured, falling back in a vain attempt to fade out of her adversary's reach. It's not until she coaxes the enforcer to right next to the gushing seawater that Septette springs her trap: exploiting a narrower opening than she'd indicated she could react to, the yggdroid turns the gushing water into sharpened icy spikes that aim to skewer her limbs and joints, and to swirling eddies that try to engulf and encase what can't be impaled. With luck, it'll be messy, but not definitively fatal. That's the best Septette can hope for right now.
Finna	LUUUUURCH! Erik-Finna actually has Terrible Sealegs, so he wobbles about for a step or two. And a lot of yelling happens over the radio. Finna... growls and grouches. This is pure chaos. She's got no choice at this point but to rely on pure gut judgement and a quick, silent prayer to Luna for guidance through the chaos. "Argh! Back to the docks, we've got cargo still coming!!" 'Erik' screams at the drugged-captain, HOPING he'll listen... Then takes a deep breath. In a few moments, she's walking towards the safe, the Erik form melting away towards something more like her normal human form... except the lithe female frame's bulking up, rising up to seven feet tall and expanding in every fashion with densely packed primal muscle. White fur bursts through her skin, just devouring through her clothing and leaving her as a hulking, anthropomorphic Arctic Fox. Who has two missions. FIRST, one of curiosity. She BOUNDS over to the safe with a single leap and SLASHES the safe at hyper-speed, claws leaving glowing trails of Lunar energy in the air... The second mission will come once she's ascertained what's IN the safe, and perhaps purloined it. Already, massive Snowy Owl wings are emerging from her back.
Nova Terra	Nova pauses for a moment as she comes upon the locked door. Just a moment though, as she indeed does reach out towards the door with a hand. The metal begins to warp as the door trembles at the force being applied to it. Finally it rips off with a loud screeching sound, Nova sending it flying down the hallway behind her. She rushes into the cargo bay, following the directions. There is visible relief as Nova comes upon container CX405. Finally they've found their objective. Nova opens the container for a moment to take a look inside, eyeing the boxes. She hopes the contents can survive the coming retrieval. Nova closes the container doors again, before turning towards the port side of the ship and the outer hull. She reaches into a compartment on her wrist, pulling out a spherical device. She arms the hi-tech grenade and then throws it. It bounces a few times before rolling up to the hull with a tink. Nova takes cover. An explosion rocks the ship as the grenade goes off, ripping open a hole into the open air outside. Looking out from her cover to check on the result, Nova nods in satisfaction. She then turns towards the large container. Nova takes in a deep breath, reaching out with her hand. The container is probably reaching the limits of her abilities, so she doesn't lift it so much as she pushes it. Screeching echoes through the storage area as Nova begins to push the container across the floor towards the hole she had just created. It's slow going and the strain is visible on Nova's face as the mother of all headaches is quickly building in her head. Soon enough though it should begin to slide out the hole. Nova just hopes Finna isn't exaggerating about her skills.
Penelope Vasquez	The twitching bezerker swings and slashes at the Persona, cackling his mad exhileration. Until the gun is in his face, and he becomes chunky salsa, shell-like armor shattered, along with the majority of the upper body of the man underneath it. The bloodly lump flops back into the rising water, staining the liquid around it. The two-bladed woman is drawn out into attack as August handles her compatriot- and is taken utterly by surprise as the fountaining seawater is suddenly turned into a limb-seeking spikeball. Movement is arrested by icey spikes perforating her joints- momentum at first shattering them, but the sheer amount is enough to pin her in place, strung up on the ice. The shock of pain keeps her from moving, much- but the panicked jerks she starts to make, after realizing her predicament, looking down at the rising water, and then back at the yggdroid, say more than words. The drug-addled ship pilot is still frightened and freaked out enough to react to the 'captain' instantly- the ship PIIITCHES the other way. The motherfucker is Tokyo Drifting a cargo ship. But, it actually works, though a great many containers slide from the yawning doors. It starts chugging towards the dock again, full speed ahead. It's an even coinflip as to whether it will make it to the docks before the cargo opening dips into the water, utterly flooding the decks. And he's really not much of a mind to keep piloting as he shrinks in fear, the manliest man in the world suddenly turning into what may very be a werewolf. Within the safe: money! Greenbacks! Dead presidents! Dolla dolla bills, y'all. Enough to pay... a one, maybe two man crew for the horrificly off-the-rails night. Kinda a shitty pay for four, though. A few pieces of gold jewelry as well, oddly enough, and a closed wooden case. Opening- they look like cigars, but SMELL like something to trigger a heinous night on the town- especially to Finna's beastial sniffer, there's liable to be a mild contact high just from looking at the stoogies. A hole blasts in the side of the boat as Nova goes to work- and soon enough, the corrugated crate of fragile goods is sliding out of the newly made hole, steel scraping broken steel.
Finna	Oooooooooooooooh. The foxwoman does sniff around in there. Curls her lips in various amounts of distaste. Decisions, decisions... she honestly feels -bad- about what's happened to the poor sod she drugged, in the state he's in. If she'd pulled this off PERFECTLY and there'd been no big disaster... maybe she could swipe it ALL and not feel too bad about it! Not that she cares much about money. Money isn't so great. Buying NEAT THINGS can be great, though! And with one sniff... WHOAH! Finna backs away from the safe, using her lanky arms to grab the stuff and toss it in... well it's not quite clear WHERE she just tossed it, but it vanishes as she tucks it away somewhere! All except for one decent wad of cash and ONE of the cigar-things. She stomps on over to the drug-addled man, bringing a finger up to her snout as if to gesture 'it is a secret to everyone!' and stuffs that little portion of the loot in the nearest pocket she can see. THEN she just bursts out the window or the door, ripping it to shreds if necessary, and takes flight on the great white wings! Down for the package she swoops, and if she has to SLAM CLAWS INTO IT to get a grip, she will. But her wings are mighty, and she will hoist it with ALL HER MIGHT to get that package away. Far, far away. And the more she hauls, well... she starts to glow. A silvery-blue aura starts exuding from her skin and the mark of the moon blazes on her forehead, but SHE IS HAULING THAT CRATE up and up and up and away!
August Kohler	As the guy collapses dead, August stops to finally clutch his wounds, staring at the bloody mess he made. Part of him wants to retch, another feels absolutely guilty, and a third is glad he's alive. That's the one that bugs him the most. As the ship's about to crash into the docks, though, and it's escape time... August is going to start booking it towards the top deck or a hole, and once they reach somewere he can leap out, he's going to do so, trying to use the Tin Soldier to boost both his jump and help his fall. And then, he'll book it as fast as he can to somewhere safe and away from law enforcement and then head to a warpgate.
Nova Terra	Nova is really straining at this point, but finally she can see the claws from a giant bird digging into the container. Nova releases her mental hold over the large object, letting Finna take over and getting it free. While that happens, Nova turns around to look around the secure storage bay. She takes a few steps in, pulling another couple of grenades from the compartment storing them. The smirks a little as she announces over the radio, "Fire in the hole." She throws the grenades amongst the remaining containers before turning around and taking off in a mad dash. She reaches the hole in the side of the ship, leaping off the edge. The grenades explode. Nova comes flying out of the hole, a firery explosion quickly following behind. Soaring through the air, Nova reaches out with her hand... And grasps the edge of the container. Hanging from the flying box as it is carried off by Finna, Nova turns back to look down at the flames licking the side of the ship. Hopefully the additional damage she caused will hide the exact nature of what was stolen, while the explosions will also play into the terrorist angle. Pulling herself up onto the top of the container, Nova stands turning back to watch the rest of the scene play out as her cloaking field activates, blue light washing over her as she turns invisible once more.
Septette Arcubielle	"It's going to be okay," Septette offers mildly. She takes a step forward, holding out her hands to show an apparent lack of aggression towards her would-be assailant, and then gingerly severs the icicles from the larger mass of frost and picks her up over one shoulder. "I'm sorry that it hurts. We'll get you looked at soon, alright?" As always, it's more than a bit eerie how she talks to someone she could've just killed like that. Outside the ship, a trio of blue drones materialize and start to circle it just above the waterline. They spiral outwards as they lay down strata of ice, building up a small iceberg around the cargo ship that continues to grow linearly as they work tirelessly. Eventually, the buildup of buoyant ice ought to outpace the ship's increasing weight as it takes on water, especially as holes in its hull are patched from the outside when the drones dip below the surface. With a bit of luck, that'll forestall any full-blown sinking until after the ice has melted! Septette herself sets off retracing August's steps with the wounded operative in tow, extinguishing the magical fire with magical frost and grabbing the wounded she knows about on the way out. She'll keep delving back into the ship in search of those who can't make it out on their own for as long as she plausibly can, coordinating with August via radio and her drones. Those she manages to get out will be directed to go out onto the surface of the artificial iceberg, and from there to simply walk onto the docks where the ice meets land. It is going to be a long night.
Finna	"Whoooooooooargh....!!" Finna the GIANT FOXWOMAN WITH WINGS is not really the greatest when it comes to pure feats of strength. She's forcing every erg of Lunar might she has through her quicksilver body's chakras. MUSCLE BULGE AND RIPPLE. Her wings begin beating faster! She gains more control, stability, and LIFT with such a heavy cargo... But at the same time, the glow she's giving off just gets BRIGHTER AND BRIGHTER. Yet, at the same time... the glow begins to contain more and more shadows. Streaks of purple-blue mix in with the bright silvery-blue... and soon the two colors meld into a prismatic swirl, a thoroughly opaque miasma of shifting energies. Within this cloak, nothing is certain. Now, it can only be ascertained that SOMETHING LARGE is being carried by a WINGED BEAST. Which seems to constantly morph in size and build and flicker weirdly as it swoops lopsidedly across the city looking for anywhere that people AREN'T!
Penelope Vasquez	The crate of chemicals being carted off by a giant flying foxowl, the mission is, technically, a success. Go team. The grenades Nova tosses as an afterthought into the secure storage... was probably a bad idea, really. It makes sense to keep the volatile stuff in secure storage. When the grenades explode- so do several of the cargo crates. The gargantuan fireball evaporates the entirity of the upper housing, galley, and command center, as well as a large part of the top deck. The ship groans and shudders- still able to be stopped by Septette's forming icebergs, but it's now less trying to support a ship and now supporting a cargo-ship sized canoe. With several holes. The raining twisted metal into the lower cargo holds is most likely definitely going to increase the bodycount. The only place lacking people for hundres of miles around are, likely some of the fully-automated factories. Which is probably as good a place as any to drop the crate. Nearest 'empty countryside' is a warpgate away.