Marked

[Toaster]

Rolling her aching shoulders, Olivia dropped out of the Kestrel, its hull painted almost completely black with Pittsburgh's dust and ashes. She glanced around the makeshift hangar. The ceiling was surprisingly high, higher than anyone would bother excavating manually. The crude steel beams mounted across it and up and down the walls for structural support further suggested that it was a natural cavern that had been reappropriated by Liberty's freedom fighters. To her surprise, it was quite busy - men and women dressed in all manner of attire bustled around the deck, some wearing mechanic's overalls, others flightsuits, a few clad in business suits and carrying briefcases. Money's gotta come from somewhere, Olivia thought, chuckling.

Glancing at the deck, she spotted the trail painted onto the steel plating and set out to follow it wherever it may lead her.

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Olivia Sable