Lukas strode off briskly, ignoring the blaring alarms and frantically scattering people around him. He could see security teams milling around the station, presumably trying to get themselves organised and figure out just what the hell was going on. One of them was closing in on him, though.
He ignored them for the time being, scanning the area carefully, relying on his soldier's sense to help him out. People scattering everywhere, except for the security teams and a group of hooded worshippers gliding nonchalantly through the chaos, presumably holding onto a notion that their faith would keep them safe. He followed their path with his gaze, pondering. Just as he was about to move on, one of them stopped by a vent and glanced directly around at him for a nanosecond before ducking inside and slamming the hatch closed.
"There," he thought to himself, breaking into a run.
Or he would have, except one of the braver security officers had clamped a comparatively tiny hand on his massive armored forearm.
"Excuse me, s-", he began, before Lukas' elbow smacked him in the jaw and silenced all further attempts at communication. Lukas broke into a run as the rest of the team decided exactly what it was they should do. A couple tried to marshal their colleagues, shouting and gesticulating wildly, but most of them decided they'd seen enough. They scattered from his path, leaving just three who soon followed their example. Lukas smiled grimly to himself. They probably could have gotten him into a serious problem, if they'd had the nerve to try. He probably looked incredibly intimidating, though. The whirrs and clanks as he sprinted only added to the overall effect, he thought to himself as he arrived at the vent. He took one look at it and swore to himself again. He couldn't even fit his arm down that, let alone squeeze in after him. It looked like it led to the marketplace, though, from what he remembered of the station's blueprints.
With this in mind, he continued his frantic run towards the marketplace, knocking anyone or anything in his path aside as he ran onwards.
Dmitriy went to one of the weapon racks at the SoCred's cargo bay. He put down the rifle and then took out more ammo for the submachine gun and started to reload it. He also replaced the batteries in his side arm, and took up a heavier armor in case he is needed down there. At least he was ready to get into action again.
Research is to see what everybody else has seen, and to think what nobody else has thought.
[font=Georgia]She was sitting next to Lukas, checking her scoped AK-74. Lachina played with a few buttons on her red armor corresponding with the color of her hair while watching the light.
"Social Credit, commence Tiger, I repeat, Tiger to be dropped!"
Lachina grinned as she was fired through the airlock on the glass-tube. Her view got blurred and then she ended up on the tube. Her armor sensors blinked red from the push but they managed to nullify the shock. The problem was that Lachina started sliding down from the tube, If she fell down, she would end up like flying corpse in space forever. She tried to slow down with her hands but there was nothing to catch for. With one her trying to stop the slide and second trying to take out the knife from her belt she was trying to slow. Lachina finally managed to take her knife and stuck it in the glass. She didn't get really deep but it gave her enough time to catch on with her boots. Noticing Lucas breaking the glass not far from her she moved to it and managed to fall at the end of the tram. Lachina crawled to the hatch and managed to open it.
Lachina kicked the cover off and jumped inside.
First thing she saw was a surprised face of the tram guard in front of her. She punched him with the end of her rifle and he fell down quietly. The train started slowing down until it stopped and the doors opened. Lachina tapped her comm.
"[color=#33CC00]Bulldog, do you see the target?" she sprinted from the train
"Bulldog, do you see the target?"
Lukas switched his communicator to transmit as he continued clanking along the corridor.
"No, but it's on the move towards the marketplace. Crawling through a vent. I'm trying to head it off. Go via Residential; I'm going through Leisure."
He flipped it back to its default setting, skidding around a corner and denting a wall as he bounced off the narrow passageway. Lights flashed and theme music sounded from the arcades to his left and right as he ran up the corridor. He grunted. All those not at work sat inside playing video games in this part of the station, it seemed. At least this particular corridor was deserted because of it.
He glanced up at the ceiling.
"MARKET" displayed the sign helpfully, beside a great big arrow pointing to the right arm of the T-junction. Lukas rounded the corner and stopped short, taking a look at the floor laid out before him. This part of the station was a hive of activity, merchants and traders running every which way holding bundles of goods while others stood staring up at a giant screen of stocks and shares, dialing furiously on their phones.
He shook his head in disapproval, but quickly put it out of his mind. Heads were already beginning to turn towards him, and more than one finger was pointing in disbelief at the hulking figure who had stormed out of the passageway. He saw others, probably wiser than the rest, heading towards the elevators on the far wall, and yet others moving away towa-
Elevators.
The realisation hit him like a hammer blow, and he set off towards them as fast as power-armouredly possible.
As Leroy lay there pondering how to safely crawl down this metal death trap he began to hear the muffled screaming of people below. He peeked down the shaft, and hoped to hell someone would get on the elevator so he could hitch a lift.
For a second he thought he heard some strangely familiar clanking and whirring but he filed that away in coincidence and focused on the ridiculous task ahead. He didn't particularly want to be the first lieutenant to die of starvation in a Zoner vent.
Katz eyed the disturbed patrols, sweeping around the station.
His hands were cradled around a mug of coffee, and a foot rested on the central jump navigation console next to the pilot's seat. He desperately wanted a cigarette, but knew that would set a bad example to the men.
Try as hard as the Zoners liked, they weren't able to spot the Social Credit, lurking in the lee of a biodome, it's faint power signature masked by the station's radiating power core.
It was a waiting game now. Either the two on the station would corner Warner, or he would escape into space. And if he did, the Social Credit would run him down.
Trapped like a rat in a cage, as big as the freeport was, it wasn't going to allow Warner to hide forever.
Ben kept a hand in his robes, hand clasped tightly around the handle of his pistol as he moved through the crowds of people going about their business, he kept an eye out for suspicious behavior as well as any 'signature' behavior of Commissariat agents.
Ben was surprised at this move, he did not expect Alvin to attempt to capture him in the open and engage Zoner Security, if they discovered his identity it would be political suicide.
But than this WAS Alvin Katz, former Commissar-Captain, Premier of the Siruis Coalition and determined to get his way. As he made his way through the Market he noticed that panic was starting to go through the crowd and they started to move towards the Elevators, looking over his shoulder he saw a figure in power armour making his way through the crowd. Ben was impressed slightly.
"Bloody Persistent..." he muttered to himself before looking forward once again before he could be spotted looking at him and followed the crowd, blending in with relative ease, the former Terrorist plastered a 'terrified' expression on his face and forced himself to shiver in fright, having experience with both the LRF and the Commissariat in being 'ignored' by acting exactly like everyone else. Deception was key. Yet he knew that this game would end soon, but he would be damned if he made it easy for them.
The CPW-Radek hung like a shadow in the depths of the Omicron Theta system. The Experimental SCRA cruiser boasted the latest in Coalition technology, Order Recon Scanners, a functional cloaking device, and a full compliment of the most loyal men.
Captain Jayce Brooks had the conn.
Beside him, Major Arkady stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the men aboard the Radek go about their duties with ruthless efficiency.
He was the Executive Officer, and known amongst his men as a tyrant. A pure bred Russian, from a community of Russian-American settlers that had been able to find room aboard the Liberty, it had been only natural that his family had found their way to Volgograd, along with the Razin clan, and the Petrov's, they were probably the last true Russian families in Sirius.
He was proud of that, proud of the resurgent Coalition, and proud of the ship he was serving on.
Brooks was far from a model Coalition Captain.
Erratic, over active, and at times manic, it was unsettling to Arkady who was used to the somber Coalition starship commanders like Rokossovsky, Straitov, and Alvarez. All business, without the insanity boiled in. Even then Brooks seemed more interested in the beautiful women around him than in the mission at hand.
The bridge of the experimental cruiser was tight, consoles packed in, surrounded by a forest of monitors and repeater displays. The small CIC situation's table at the back of the bridge was alight with a holographic projection of the freeport, and the buzzing zoner traffic around it.
The TNC officer standing at the far end was flipping through reports, writing on a glass plotting board with a green grease pencil, tracking the speculated position of the CPW-Social Credit.
Commissar Mendal was standing looking particularly dour by the doors, a scowl deepening upon his face.
"Warner's going to get away," he snarled, puffing on a cigarette he had fished out of the pocket of his over-sized great coat. "And now we have a complete fraking mess on the station, while you incompetent jackasses stand around here scratching yourselves unable to do anything about it."
Captain Brooks was leaning over a console, talking to a particularly attractive blonde communications technician oblivious to what Mendal was stating.
The Commissar's eyes flashed dangerously as he stood there, watching the affair while the Premier's life was in jeapordy, and the success of the whole mission hung in the balance.
He took two steps forward, and with surprising agility for a man of his size, slammed Brook's head against the situation table.
Everyone froze at the sudden and vicious attack by the Commissar, who wasn't seeming ready to stop, grabbing a fire extinguisher from a rack, he proceeded to beat the Captain against the deck without saying a word.
Once it was over, Mendal straightened up, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it, stepping over the bloody body, and wiping a bit of brain matter from his forehead.
"Arkady, take the Conn. I trust you won't find a distraction to your duty, will you?"
Arkady swallowed as he moved to the Captain's position at the Situation's table. "No, Commissar. I can assure you, the mission has my full attention."
"Good," Mendel stated taking a drink from a flask of vodka he kept in his pocket. "Good."
Lukas barrelled through the crowd, knocking Zoners aside like skittles as the deck descended into chaos. Crowds of people were already streaming into the elevators, and he cursed himself for not thinking earlier. Smashing unceremoniously through the last thicket of people, he stepped into the clearing between two of the elevators, raising his rifle and switching his vox to broadcast at maximum volume.
"Out of the lifts! Everyone out right this second or not even an entire station's worth of security guards will save you! I MEAN IT!", he yelled, his armour amplifying his voice such that it seemed to shake the entire station around them.
The crowd paused, fear beaming from every individual as he swept his gaze over their nigh-identical faces. People looked so alike when they were terrified. He could hear the PA blaring frantically, ineptly giving away the fact that security teams were beginning to swarm over the station. They were running out of time.
"Tiger, where are you, I need you up in the market ASAP!" he yelled after switching back to a private frequency. He waved his gun more forcefully at the crowd, wondering why everyone seemed to have paused. They looked scared enough, but were they going to get out of the lifts or not? Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Lukas feverently wished Tiger would hurry up and give him some cover.
He took a menacing step forward as the crowd made up its collective mind.
A throng of people spilled out of the bars and taverns, pushing their way towards the local temple of Discordianism. And from the upper gallery, unarmed and unobserved, Alvarez, El Coyote, watched his prey slipping in with them.
Predictability of maneuvers was to be expected, Warner seemed to have forgotten his training.
He was assuming nothing, keeping his eyes peeled watching for pursuit, allowing the hounds to drive him.
Though he always broke the Cardinal rule, never look back. A Coalition Spec Ops Officer knew that he was never alone, and looking back would only give away the position. It was what seperated a Coyote from a frightened pup.
He had no realization that everyone around him were being as subtly guided as he was himself. From the Child pulling at her mother's hand, through to the grizzled old Zoner changing a light bulb. The Coalition was in complete control of the situation.
A man that was bleeding as much as Warner was, attracted attention. There was no real way for him to blend in like that. And his pattern never wavered or varied. That was probably due to the pain. It didn't much matter to Alvarez. It all worked to his favour.
Alvarez crossed the upper gallery, giving a signal for his men to cover the exits, walking through the doors to the inner sanctum of the religious. Allowing them to bang audibly, echoing through the room.
"Colonel Warner," Alvarez's voice rang out as he rested languidly on the edge of the balcony, looking down at the congregation.
On cue, the Discordians parted from the man in their midst, some of them looking almost apologetically, some looking sad, as they slowly filed from the great antechamber, leaving Warner alone in the ornately carved and paneled room with Alvarez on the upper balcony.
"You always did underestimate us, Hermano," Alvarez said opening his jacket to demonstrate that he was completely unarmed, turning a little to prove he had nothing strapped to his back.
"There is no way for me to harm you, nor for you to reach me up here. The Discordians assure me that we are completely free, holmes, to have a little chat, si?"
He pointed at the blood dripping on the royal blue carpet, "and given your injuries, esse, you're all out of running, si? So what do you say, do you talk to me now?"
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