The Door of Freeport 10

[Enkidu]

…To which end, Robert d'Autoine found himself abruptly (and quite rudely) severed.

"Ah Sournouis, take your thumb out of your anal socket before it stiffens, and put it to a less tedious utilisation as opposed to sucking it, hmm?" Thundered in Achille, to the sound of the Robert's video feed dying in a symphony of discordant feedback. "…Come on man, liven yourself; no sense in appearing morose before the prospect of destruction, oui? Embrace the leviathan man, show spirit… lah, and what tasteful ordinance you have provided for my perusement, hmm, oh, wonderful".

He shut up. Without waiting for a reply, Achille's fingers dance upon the cannon's protesting controls as though acting in autonomy, barely caressing the pad before retracting to his side in a manner so flamboyantly self-satisfied, you'd think it had taken them hours, and not seconds, to complete their tasking.

A moment passed as the cannon began to hum.

"Your beamwidth calculations were somewhat excessive as were the motive power. We wish to breach the door ami, not vent the atmosphere - here ami…" Devious suddenly found a peculiarly clean-smelling PDA thrust into his grasp. "…A memorandum of exactly how you could of murdered us all; for reference, of course".

All geste fell from his face.

'…So, I do actually assume we should be wearing, ah, survival suits for this oui?" Achille lilted conversationally. "...We are (after all) about to break contact into a possibly depressurised, probably unthermoregulated environ disconnected from the station proper's life support for dieu knows how long. Both interior and exterior scans of the target area have proved dissatisfactory and seemingly no person of prominence, the illustrious Le Roux and surviving previous administrators factored in, professes to know of it. If not that the mystery was so undyingly tantalising, this should have proven the job of an underling. Either way ami, this entire, hm, expedition, is your responsibility, from a purely libel position of course".

He finished prattling, eyes glimmering in barely repressible interest.

"…So, Devious. I believe you have a button to depress."

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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