Despite the Anvil being home to so many men and women, Colonel Marin's office was surprisingly quiet, being placed so many floors above the majority of the hubbub, but only next door to the main command centre.

Weller had his hands placed firmly on the chair facing the Colonel, while Chase stood against the doorway.

"He's ready, Colonel."

"I can't say I'm pleased at the prospect, Dr. Weller. Chase is the Vanguard's last ace. He is irreplaceable."

"Exactly why he's perfect for Gen:Lock, Colonel! The system only works for those with a great deal of neuroplasticity, and Julian has what it takes to work with it. We can make sure that he sees the action without ever being in harm's way."

"I'm standing right here, Doc." Julian announced.

"Right, of course; Sorry Chase, you can speak for yourself."

Julian leisurely paced to the Colonel's desk, taking note of her dour expression. This would have to be handled with tact, something that Weller, for all of his incredible mind, was not in possession of.

"Do you want to do this, Chase? You do know that there's a good chance that you step into one of those pods, you never come back."

Chase nodded, his expression firm.

"That's true, Colonel, but the same can be said of my interceptor. When I fired that ESD, I took a risk that I'd never come back. I'm not afraid. If this means taking the fight to the Union, then I'll take that shot. Whatever it takes to get my family out." He looked out at the base's expanse laid out in front of the Colonel's window. "All of their families out."

Marin wasn't happy, but she did see his point.

"Fine. Where are you doing your experiments, Weller?"

"Ah, uh well, that's classified, you see, but I can arrange transport to and from the Anvil for Chase easily enough. He'll be with us at the ESU for… a few months at most, I imagine?"

"What about the Anvil?"

"Well, we could relocate phase one testing to your neck of the woods I suppose, though that would mean accommodating us and our machinery, personnel, vehicles…"

Chase smiled inwardly. It was nice to have these two fighting over him, even if it was partly because of his compatibility with Gen:Lock rather than his personal abilities.

"I can arrange it."

"With respect, Colonel, I'm not sure that you'll be able to house the…"
"And with respect, Doctor, we will make it happen. If Gen:Lock is what you claim it to be, then there is no better place to test it."

Weller sighed, pinching his nose.

"Fine."

"Brick, Your turn."

Miranda breathed heavily as the Union squadleader pointed her at the doorway. She shoulder-barged the wooden door, and found it collapse in a crash of splinters and cracked wood. The Union carapace suit had some definite advantages, she considered, as she admired her handiwork.

"What do you see?"

She snapped back to alertness, scanning the room of the apartment complex with her sub-machinegun, and seeing nothing other than the scattered memories of a family that once lived there; Photos, used plates and the odd trinket lost in the family's rush to escape.

"Clear." She grunted, before turning back to leave the apartment and rejoining the squad as they made their way up the block's stairs.

"Next one. Fuse, you're up."

The largest of the troopers kicked down the next door effortlessly, before clearing the room himself.

"Clear. No life signs."

Miranda breathed a slight sigh of relief. She was glad they hadn't come across a family or Razzle yet, forcing her to break her cover with this group.

It had been almost a full week since she'd joined Patrol Zulu Alpha 22, and replaced "Brick", the soldier inspecting Razzle's destroyed aircraft. Since then, their Squad leader, "Short", had been driving them mercilessly to find the pilot. Apparently, someone in the Union believed that she knew something more about the ESDs than they were already aware of, so they'd been ordered to take her in.

Miranda had been alarmed as soon as she'd heard that they were investigating the ESDs. If they found a way to counter one weapon the Polity had that could stop the nano, then the next time the Vanguard went up against the Union, there might not be any survivors. She knew she had to stop them from finding Razzle, and extract her herself if she could. But she had no better leads than Short and his squad, and so remaining in their fold was fine by her.

Initially it'd been tough to remain concealed, hiding her voice, but then she found some of the audio sliders on the helmet could do a good job of masking her particular quirks anyway, so long as she kept her speech short and clipped. She ate her rations and treated her wounds away from the squad, and none of them seemed to question her. She guessed it was partially because they were often taking toilet breaks themselves, just heading off and rejoining the squad, that nobody asked questions. The Union troops were more robotic than human, she considered. They never discussed their orders, or griped, or relaxed, or talked about missing home. They just… were.

The quiet that afforded her was quite welcoming, as she had time to plan, formulate ideas about which of the troopers she would need to shoot first when she did find Razzle, mark way-points and locations of interest for whenever she did make a break for it. It also gave her time to reflect. Everyone in the Vanguard would be sure that she was dead. Julian would be distraught. She just wanted to get back to the Anvil as soon as she could.

But right now, the mission came first, and the mission was Razzle.

Short burst through the next door himself. Despite his drone-like nature, she thought she could detect a hint of frustration in his retort.

"Nothing. You're up again, Brick."

She steeled herself for whatever was behind this final door, and panted, hard, before throwing herself at the locked wooden door, shoulder first.

Inside, a woman with short blonde hair, and Vanguard uniform had a pistol aimed straight at her, slumped against a fridge. Her left leg was bound to a splint made from a piece of metal pipe, but her expression was stern and determined.

She recognised the face instantly from meeting the rest of Julian's Silver Falcons.

Razzle.

Miranda lowered her submachine gun, and raised a hand to her lips on her skull helmet. Razzle looked confused but didn't lower her pistol from her iron handed grip. She clearly didn't want to reveal her position any more than Miranda did, but she wasn't taking any chances. Miranda slowly opened her right hand, to reveal her callsign marker held firmly in her palm. Rasmussen's eyes opened wide, before she nodded silently, understanding her.

"Brick. Report."

Miranda took a second to breathe, planning her next move.

"All clear."

She raised her hands slowly in Razzle's direction, pointed behind her, and gestured with all her fingers extended.

Five.

Five troopers.

Razzle gently eased herself upright, and nodded, readying her pistol.

"Hurry up, Brick."

She turned, and started backing towards Razzle, keeping her weapon levelled at the door, hoping that Razzle would get what she was trying to do.

"Sir."

Strong arms enveloped her from behind, and she saw the pistol in the corner of her eye.

Good. Exactly as planned.

"Sir!" She intoned, trying to sound more panicked, as if she'd just been captured.

"Stay back you Union bastards, or I'll blow this one's brains out!" Razzle was scared, but her resolve was fierce. She knew the feeling all too well, right now.

Razzle slowly manoeuvred her behind the apartment's kitchenette, putting a solid wall behind them and the entrance. She felt her reach for an extra magazine, and take a deep breath.

"Sir!" Miranda asked again, pleading.

Fuse and one of the other troopers stepped into the room with heavy foot-falls, their weapons levelled at her and Razzle.

"Surrender."

She knew they didn't care about her, any more than they would have cared about Brick if he'd been alive and in her place. It was Razzle they wanted to keep alive.

She barely had time to process what happened next as Razzle snapped her pistol to fire at something by the door and threw her against the fridge. Behind the two troopers, a Flare had been hanging on the wall, and it exploded in a flash, dazzling them. Razzle ducked beneath the counter and began unloading with her pistol.

Miranda knew she only had a few seconds. She rolled out from behind the fridge, and opened fire on Fuse herself, who grunted as he was thrown to the floor, the spray of bullets ripping through his ribcage and spraying blood over the floor. The other soldier turned to her with surprise, snapping his weapon in her direction, opening himself up to a well-placed shot from Razzle that shattered through his face-shield and threw him to the floor, blood pouring from his open cheek.

Miranda's cover was blown. She picked up Fuse's weapon and tossed it through the kitchenette window to Razzle, before throwing herself flat against the pillar separating them.

Outside, boots came tramping down the staircase, and she knew they didn't have long.

As if in answer to her thoughts, she saw a small metal ball fly through the open door, bouncing off the hallway wall, and landing in front of her.

"Grenade!"

She kicked the shape back towards the hallway, and flung herself back flat against the floor, cursing.

A sharp, sudden explosion rippled through the room, shrapnel shredding the pillar she hid behind, and she heard Razzle yell in pain.

There was no time to be idle. She rolled out from the pillar on her stomach, just in time to catch one of the troopers running in, expecting them to be dazed. Flat on the floor, she made a small target, and with a few short bursts of fire, she cut him down, the body hitting the floor with a dull thud and clang from the armor.

She heard some shifting from her left, and knew Razzle was re-positioning to get a better sight-line on the door. Miranda covered her eyes as Rasmussen tossed another flare over her head into the doorway, and took the opportunity to reload, sliding a new magazine home with a satisfying clack.

At least the odds were even now, two against two.

Another two grenades, both too long, were thrown in, rolling under the seating area at the far end of the room. The blast tore the yellow couch in half, hurled onto its' side, and she held her position as the other two Union soldiers ran in. Miranda opened fire, catching the squadleader's helmet in the sights, the glass cracking and Short flung backwards by a round to the forehead that sprayed the wall behind him with his brain matter.

The other soldier had ducked around the corner to avoid her line of sight, but didn't have enough time to find himself in Razzle's defilade as she cut him down with a burst from Fuse's weapon.

The silence that followed was deafening, after the roar of weapons fire, explosions and the tumbling of shell casings on the floor.

"Clear." She breathed, letting herself come down from the combat high.

"Clear!" She heard Razzle echo, no less relieved than she was.

She lowered her weapon and stood up, making her way over to Razzle, and helping the older woman to her feet.

"Thanks. I wouldn't have made it out without you." Rasmussen panted, before leaning back against the now ruined kitchenette, clutching her bleeding arm. "Who…"

Miranda fumbled with the clasps on the helmet, and taking a refreshing breath as fresh air rushed into her lungs. It helped to keep a little of the anxiety and panic at bay as it now took over from the adrenaline.

"Miranda?!"

She nodded, Simone's face unreadable.

"I thought you'd managed to evac after the ESD. What the hell happened?"

She couldn't help but notice that Simone was looking at her burns, and turned her face away, suddenly a little self-conscious.

"I survived."

Simone's eyes turned downwards sadly, and Miranda brought up her carapace's interface. A small swarm of red dots were converging on their position; They had to move.

"Can you walk?" She asked, looking back up to Simone with a raised eyebrow.

"Barely." Razzle nodded at her splinted leg. "You got an exit?"

Miranda looked at the five bodies spread through the room, and shrugged. "Beginnings of one at least. Put one of those bodysuits on."