X. Tresillo B
The door burst open with a loud bang, explosive charges breaking the hinges off its frame, the entire structure sliding away onto the concrete as the Tresillo streamed through the opening. Infrared visors and a bevy of other high-tech gear scanning through the area to identify any potential threats well before they could strike. They moved with disciplined, military, precision- any visage of sloppiness and laziness burnt away at the fires of the 'special training' they'd endured days earlier.
Typically this would be unnecessary, as the Tower's defenses would have been more than able to counter anything less than a concentrated military assault. In this case, however, they had no choice. Sioux's assault on the reinforced penthouse level had caused cascading aftermaths all across the Tower's security systems- malfunctions and short circuits causing the building's defensive systems to fritz out and go haywire. If those defenses consisted of locked doors and tripwire alarms that would be survivable, but Galliasta had not been shy about spending his wealth to secure his possessions. Automated turrets, changing architecture, and other more esoteric technologies were outright failing at places, turning potentially hostile at anyone and anything passing through their line of sight. This was further exacerbated by stressors within the Tower's diagnostic system- orders had been given to focus the vast majority of processing power towards the ground floor. Something was going on down there that was making the already impaired security system further conniptions. Inconvenient short circuits, defensive traps triggering on perceived 'hostiles', of anti-air weaponry triggering at any attempts to leave and of locked doors staying firmly closed despite the proper authorization codes.
Morrison stepped over the still steaming slab of metal, a frown on her face. "Christ, these Cutter fucks got no chill, do they? Couldn't we have just….I dunno, kicked down the door?"
"Maybe, but with defenses on the fritz we have to be careful." Came the response on comms, Isabel speaking up. "If we tried to break through the Tower's safeguard protocol at a bad moment when defenses are live, we'd probably fry half the squad. Taking out key trigger points without giving them the chance to trigger is safer."
The other mercenary snorted. "Yeah sure, maybe. Do they have to be such pricks about it though?"
Even with the helms on, Morrison could almost see Isabel's pained smile. "Considering that Fang left them out to dry? I get them being a bit too aggressive."
She groaned at that. Yeah right, play the 'boss was a dick and let her employees out to dry' card why dontcha. That wasn't fair, she wanted to be angry, not sympathetic. She sighed. "Well….shit, fair enough. Still, why'd they follow us all the way up here? Wasn't the Boss's decision to have them fucking outta here? That they're here at all makes me nervous."
"Almost every viable exit out the building was fritzing out, it wouldn't have been easy passing through them- the roof would have been the safest way out in that case."
"Then what the fuck's going on with Ghost then? I see 'em on the map just as well as anyone else, they managed to get out of the building pretty well without asking to hitch a ride with us."
This time, Isabel's voice wavered, a bit of hesitation entering her tone. "I don't like it either, but I don't think they're here to screw with us. If they were loyal, Fang would have them with her."
"Maybe she kept them here for them to stab us in the back then. Y'know, infiltrator shit."
Sounds of footsteps and clanking metal caused the mercenary to glance behind her, Isabel walking forth from the dark. "If that was a credible threat, Caster would deal with it. I don't believe she'd let them walk around with us like this if there was a serious consideration they'd turn on us."
"Wow~ So much faith in our Kaiserin, eh?"
Her tone shifted at that, turning rather awkward and cute. "She's been right so far. Considering what we know-"
Morrison chuckled. "Relax. Pick any random kid from here to the States and give them the opportunity to follow Tanya von Degurechaff 2.0? I guarantee not a single fucking person is gonna turn that down."
"That's if she was telling the truth, anyway," Isabel muttered, her tone darkening. "I don't trust her."
"McRemitz? Yeah, that's fair- she'd have no reason to lie about all that though."
"There's no way to verify if anything she's said about this...war is true." Isabel spat in contempt. "Even she was telling the truth- by her own admission, she's a rival, isn't she? Her words can't be trusted."
"True~" The other mage chuckled. "Then again, you called her Caster earlier, didn't you? What happened to calling her Sioux? Can't even bear to say her name, now that we know she's the real deal?"
There was a choking noise on the other side of the line, prompting a laugh out of Morrison that set Isabel's cheeks on fire with embarrassment. Her next words were shouted out, on the squad's general comms rather than a private call. "Fan out! I want this place secured before I report back to the boss."
A myriad of confirmations from the rest of the squad, with Morrison herself cackling in amusement. It was a bit unfair of her, but her friend's obvious discomfort regarding their superior was just way too funny. Not that she could blame her for being a bit weird in regards to Sioux's real identity. It was weird, incredibly, strangely weird- in any other context, McRemitz would have been rightfully laughed out of the conversation. A war for the holy grail? Fought by seven secret mages, their summoned weapons being the souls of the dead and gone? It was fucking ridiculous.
But not after everything they've seen. Not after they'd seen 'Sioux' best them all in near simultaneous combat, not after the way she'd fought the man in blue, Lancer, with that bone-chilling smile on her face. Too many coincidences, too much strangeness. As ridiculous as it was to accept the idea, it would have taken more mental gymnastics to ignore it all and pretend this was all a series of profound coincidences than it was to accept that Sioux was the Kaiserin Reborn.
She couldn't exactly blame her friend for not handling it any better either. That there was a culture of hero worship towards Degurechaff went without saying, one that only intensified the older she got and the more secure OZEV's grip on power became. Her death, mysterious as it was, caused the fanaticism to reach a fever pitch. Some believed that she'd not died at all, that she was just working in the shadows unbound by governmental limitations. Others demanded to see her body, to prove that she was really dead, something that was never given. The little parade held in her honor afterward was a farce; held with a closed coffin and a hollow tomb. The popular perception was that there'd been a private funeral for her- one that involved only those survivors of her original squad and her closest friends. That the rumors continued unabated, past her death, was only natural at that point.
It was worse for Isabel because she was barely a kid when this was all going down. Not that Morrison herself wasn't, of course, but as far as she was aware her commanding officer had only ever known the Degurechaff that others painted. The Legend, not the person- a distance that would only ever grow as time passed. That the Kaiserin was rewarded with her efforts with service after death precisely because of that legend was fucking hilarious as a result. Regardless of what everyone says about her, Morrison greatly doubted that anyone would be particularly excited to die, only to be rewarded with even more work.
"Lieutenant?"
Casually, so as not to appear surprised by the suddenness of the accented voice, Morrison turned to the side. There was another mercenary there, one of the Cutter boys it seemed. Spine straight as a blade, his tone twice as sharp, he stood in readied attention at her that seemed so painfully by the book that she couldn't help but give a sarcastic salute in response. Yeah, it was against regulations, yadda yadda war zone and whatever, but she didn't think that he'd get the sword up his ass removed any other way.
"Yo." She remarked, grinning. "You have something for us?"
He nodded, ungratefully ignoring the effort she'd done to make him more comfortable. How rude. "Yes, ma'am. Defensive perimeter around the roof is secure and stable, operating at one hundred percent. There's no one here except us."
"Good, I- wait, perimeter secure?" Morrison frowned. "So this sector isn't a glitchy mess like the rest of the Tower?"
"Data indicators from the Tower seems to indicate that power and computational focus has been prioritized into two distinct locations." The other man reported dutifully. "Primary focus is on the ground floor, secondary focus is here."
It took Morrison a few moments to process that. Contrary to the character she sometimes put up for Isabel, she wasn't stupid. She, and probably a good chunk of the Tresillo come to think of it, didn't need some suited magic user with a boytoy as her slave to tell her that some weird, freaky, shit was happening in Fuyuki. The excuses Galliasta made to justify them were weak at best, insulting at worse- what kind of holographic breakthrough literally changed the architecture of an entire building? What kind of souped-up computation device allowed these superhuman fucking moves that Lancer and Caster seemed so capable of? Yeah sure, a part of it could be justified by money, but that answer couldn't sustain the entire facade forever.
There hadn't been any real announcement on it, there just hasn't been the time, but judging by what Rod said, the Kaiserin was pulling the strings now. Even earlier than that, McRemitz had disappeared, all pissy and angry like with her lover boy in tow. Next they heard anything about her, Lancer was to be stationed at the ground floor, the most heavily fortified place at the moment. She presumed that Degurechaff had gotten to them somehow, that an agreement had been made.
Things were happening, and if Degurechaff had wrested control of this place, had decided that whatever was going on with Isabel and her squad was worth the effort to add in a little extra help? That was kinda flattering and horrifying all at once, wasn't it? For the Kaiserin to decide that you were an important piece in her plans, important enough to trust you to be a part of it, but dangerous enough that you needed extra protection to make sure you survived?
Morrison shuddered. God, what was a situation like for her to decide that they needed a little help? No, scratch the humbling part. It was horrifying. Horrifying was just fine.
"Fine." She nodded. "Now get the fuck outta here; Cutter's effort's been noted- you lot should run along now and complete your orders like good little boys and girls."
The mercenary, contrary to Morrison's expectations, did not 'get the fuck outta here' as intended. Instead, he merely looked on, a foot or so taller than Morrison, and he did so long enough that she felt a tick of irritation towards her fellow mercenary.
"What is it now?" She snapped. "You want an autograph? All out of ink buddy, sorry."
"Cutter will do what is necessary. Shall do what is asked of it, shall kill who we have to." He remarked, the very slightest hint of a Slavic accent about him. "Commander Fang's treachery has nothing to do with our squad. We will do whatever it takes to make our loyalty known and right this mistake."
Morrison blinked, before realizing what he said finally registered. "Is that what this is about?" she chuckled. "Fang's thugs recognizing their days are numbered now that they've been left out to dry? That's fucking funny- did you lot beg Rod too? Get yourselves a reprieve?"
"He is not in the Tower, and he will not go out of his way to save us." The other mercenary complained bitterly. "Besides, we no longer follow the Arab, correct? Captain Rodriguez's influence with our new employer is nothing compared to the apparent favor that Commander Laverne has fostered with the Kaiserin."
"Oh, you lot are calling Sioux that too?" Morrison idly observed, seemingly bored and unconcerned. "You lot think she's Degurechaff Reborn or something?"
"It does not matter what we think, only what she is. Whether she is the Argent in reality, or merely a particularly talented actor, is immaterial. She represents the Kaiserin's legacy just as surely as if she was von Degurchaff's chosen heir. In my country, I know full well what resistance against her means in truth."
The words were said with such certainty, such conviction, that she almost paused. The Russy Federation had been broken in the aftermath of the Great War, shattered into a dozen or so successor states that tore each other apart at Jugashvili's death. For the most part, other nations chose to keep a firm distance away from all that barbarity- the war had ended suddenly and viciously, communism eating itself from the inside out. No one wanted to reach out a helping hand and have it snapped in half and dragged into a problem they had no stake in, not when they had other domestic problems to deal with.
Except for Germania and her allies. Degurechaff had directed programs and orders to assist the Russy successor states, giving them economic support in exchange for certain concessions. Those states closer to the OZEV border, and thus already having been ravaged by conflict with Germania and now lacking the assistance of a centralized Russy government, folded quickly. Those further afield to the east, still whole and unbloodied by the Germanian war machine, spent years more in internecine conflict. Leery of accepting economic support from their ideological enemy, dictators and military juntas patterning themselves after Jugashvili's example led their respective domains into further destitution over the scraps the Federation had left behind.
Those states that had accepted OZEV support flourished within the umbrella of Germania's economic zone, turning into close allies on the world stage. Those that had spurned Degurechaff's hand languished in silence, fighting amongst themselves over the diminishing remains of the Federation's former glory until years of war thoroughly beat any taste of it out of them. Though OZEV never stopped trying to appeal to those states, offering assistance whenever the matter was brought up, the damage was already done. The results, as starkly brilliant as they were disturbing. At the border of OZEV's territories was a collection of former Russy Federation states that had abandoned their peers, recovering, prosperous, and strong- forever indebted to the one that had broken them and built them up again. Further east were the remains of OZEV's enemies- broken, exhausted, and nearly isolated from the world stage as they spent years struggling to reach the state where their estranged western cousins had been a decade ago.
The Chancellor's message to the rest of the world was clear enough, if such a thing even needed to be said. Cooperation was comfort, resistance was ruin.
That he would make such a comparison told Morrison that, regardless of whether he knew the truth or not of who 'Sioux' really was, that he feared her as if she was the Kaiserin Reborn regardless. She nodded. "I'll make sure the boss hears about it. Now really, you guys should get out of here before she notices. You lot have a job to do."
He seemed to stare at her for a moment, before nodding quickly. A few moments later, the rest of Cutter flew off into the night, the Tower's defensive perimeter shimmering brightly as it allowed them easy passage out. Morrison sighed, wishing she could scratch at her head through the fucking helm, before turning back to the rooftop.
It looked pretty ordinary, as far typical construction for these things went. Power and water generators were located within the building's infrastructure itself, as a security precaution or so it had been explained. There were a few signal towers here, transmitting who knows what to who knows where, as well as a helipad that seemed fairly well maintained. Sweeper was positioned in a wide net around the roof, not quite being enough to sufficiently secure the sector, but enough to at least have eyes on most things that mattered. Isabel was standing smack dab in the middle of it all, gaze downward and obviously busy with something. Morrison, knowing her rightful duty as second, skipped over there with a glimmer of mischief in her heart.
"So, I had an interesting conversation-"
"Shh-" Isabel said, distracted. Morrison frowned, taking a look at her again. Slightly hunched shoulders, a gaze that seemed to not be particularly aimed anywhere, a rather amusing sort of prickliness about her? The lieutenant couldn't help the shit-eating grin that graced her lips as she realized what was happening.
"It's her, isn't it? Your girlfriend?"
The subsequent punch lacked finesse but made up for it in sheer ferocity. Morrison giggled like a maniac, her so-called superior curling into a ball, hands over her head as she continued carrying out the conversation all within the silence of her suit. In a gesture of goodwill and mercy, she decided not to mess with Isabel any more than that, stepping back a moment and waiting for her to finish up.
It didn't take too long. "For fuck's sake, Mo." Isabel cursed. "One of these days-"
"Oh relax, I'm sure she hardly noticed," Morrison noted, rolling her eyes. "It was her, right? What's going on, exactly?"
It took a moment for her superior to swallow the apparent irritation she felt. It wasn't too successful, and she could practically see Isabel's grimace as she turned away from her. "We're gonna be getting a package soon. As soon as we receive it, we're supposed to get out of here, find a hole in the ground, and stay put. Prioritize the package's safety. Maintain physical contact with the package at all times. We don't come out of hiding for anything until she calls for us. Inform her as soon as we suspect there's a credible danger to the package."
"Well, that's not fucking ominous at all. What's with the maintain contact thing? We have to keep it in our pockets or something?"
"We need it constantly within the range of our computation devices. Physical contact is ideal." She shrugged. "Said that this needs to be put in a safe, secret, place and that she couldn't do it herself."
Morrison frowned. That didn't sound like the situation was going all too well, huh? Hell, more to the point, wasn't it looking like Degurechaff was trying to get the Tresillo as far away from the Tower as possible? Lanza squad then Cutter and now Sweeper, all given their own directives and told to leave. Even Ghost wasn't in the Tower per se, just buzzing around the outskirts, doing who knows what. Their new Master must be thinking that the Tower was no longer secure, that they had to scatter for now and regroup when the coast was clear. She wasn't about to complain of course- if even half of what McRemitz has said was true, she knew that an active warzone with people like the Kaiserin was not somewhere she wanted to be.
"Alright, sounds good to me." The mercenary nodded, before settling herself to Isabel's side. "How was she?"
"She seemed distracted," Isabel remarked, a strange sort of worry in her voice as she sighed, gaze to the heavens. "I've never heard her quite like that before. Whatever's going on is serious."
"I'm sure she'll be okay." She shrugged. "This kind of thing's outside our expertise. I'm sure she knows what she's doing."
Isabel said nothing at that, and for a moment the mercenary thought that she'd said the wrong thing. It wasn't until she matched her gaze, staring up into the night sky as well, that she realized something else was going on. Morisson swore, hand going to her rifle- only for her commander to raise her hand and stop her.
"It's okay," Isabel remarked, gaze still upwards. "Its Degurechaff."
"That doesn't fucking look like her." She growled. "That looks like some horror movie shit."
They were difficult to pick out in the darkness, at least at first. The suit was helpful here to a degree, magnifying her view on three distinct individuals somewhere up in the distance. Three figures, one of a man missing an arm and looking pretty thoroughly thrashed, the other of two...somethings. She wasn't sure if there was some weird bug in her system or if the other two were using some new technology, but their forms were indistinct and unlockable. Her systems outright refused to identify them as targets, essentially dismissing them as unremarkable as a piece of gravel or empty air. They hovered above them all for a moment, before executing a sharp descent that stopped just short of them hitting the roof. The man in the middle buoyed gently in their grasp, computation technology blunting any effect gravity might have on the trio.
"Who the fuck are these guys?" Morrison grouched. "Southwind types? I thought we were her go-to guys?"
"No. I've seen them before. Maybe you were too far away to see them properly but….they won't hurt us. I'm sure of that."
Isabel sounded….not scared, not quite- but she wasn't exactly at ease either. Before Morrison could say anything to that, her commander walked forward to meet them. She swore underneath her breath, her hand on her holster, before jogging up to meet them.
As she got closer, she began to understand what exactly Isabel had meant. Close enough now that her gear wasn't necessary for identifying them up close, she got a better look at the new guys. Wispy and seemingly made up of shadows, they stood and operated exactly like actual mages, if not for the fact that they weren't even people. The wind up here didn't seem to adversely affect them either, they weren't being blown away by it or anything stupid like that. Despite that, they were still obviously incorporeal; dark tendrils going to and fro as dictated by a wind that none of them could reasonably feel. Internal filters triggered once she'd gotten close enough, her suit detecting a notable increase in ash and carbon dioxide. They were disciplined too- acting like an actual military outfit as they took turns checking on the captive and observing the surrounding area for any potential threats.
Threats that, apparently, included herself. The shadow stared at her for a while, seemingly checking her out, and Morrison let out a peace sign in response. Even without any facial features to speak of, she had the distinct impression that it seemed annoyed by her, looking away a few moments later.
"Well, I guess this pretty thoroughly proves that McRemitz wasn't bullshitting us huh?" Morrison commented wryly. "Don't care what anyone says, not even OZEV would have technology like this."
"Also explains what exactly happened to our former employer," Isabel remarked, kicking the unconscious body of Atrum Galliasta. "I'm surprised he's still alive."
"Missing an arm, unconscious- either drugged or from shock." She whistled, before turning to the shadows. "He's not gonna die on us, is he? That's not on us if he bleeds out while we're in transit."
The shadows didn't say anything, which seemed about right, and the lieutenant rolled her eyes as she moved to pick the man up. Applied computational techniques meant that Galliasta became as light as a feather as her device compensated for weight and gravitational pull. There was a strange whirring sound, her device seemingly processing more than it probably should from such a small load, before it normalized again. Morrison frowned, but before she could do anything to confirm her suit output, Isabel began speaking.
"We've got safehouses all around the city, which means we're not spoilt for choice." Isabel considered. "But if we're getting attacked right now, that means the entire building is probably under watch right? If we go out there we risk getting intercepted or followed, so we can't just head there straight. Can't stay put either, if D-Degurechaff thinks its best to get him out of here, then we have to assume it's a priority call."
Morrison shrugged, strapping Galliasta into her combat harness. "Rodriguez went to B11, I think. Might even still be there- we can group up with them, follow them to what they're doing, then drop off somewhere along the way. It'd be harder for them to sneak up like a dozen people or so than just us."
The commander shook her head. "No. When the call was made for us to get up here, she didn't say it was to retrieve Galliasta. She only said to get on the roof- notice how those things only brought him in when Cutter got out of here? I think this is supposed to be as secret as possible. Fang disappearing might have spooked her, so we have to assume that Degurechaff suspects infiltrators or traitors. We have to do this ourselves."
A deep breath followed by an explosive sigh. "We go Sky-High then. Go as high up as we can without alerting every military base in the country, then keep moving around the air space until things change. If anyone tries to come for us we'll see it a mile away and scatter. If they somehow manage to keep chasing us, we call the boss."
"Gotcha. What about them." Morrison nodded towards the other two, the shadows floating ahead of them. "They coming with?"
"I..." Isabel paused, stuttering for a moment, before shrugging. "If they follow, that's fine. If not, then that's fine too. I don't think Degurechaff can cast them too far, otherwise, she'd have them do this. Let's stop wasting time."
Changing frequencies, she called out to the rest of the squad. "We're moving out! Clustered formation, Sky-High! Package with Morrison is considered primary, we do not lose it! Let's move!"
As far as the rest of the Tresillo were concerned, Isabel's squad was a bit unconventional compared to the rest of them. Part of this was Isabel herself, having risen to a leadership position relatively quickly, but also because what with their roles in the Tresillo's combat hierarchy they were a more technically minded sort than the rest. They were the surveillance guys, the utility team- they weren't really intended to participate in active combat and were oftentimes the last ones to do so.
At the same time, they weren't exactly helpless. Most had been an experienced aerial mage at some point and had undertaken considerable training to catch up with the rest if not. Degurechaff's training, and her subsequent focus on their commander, was a further instigator for change. No one wanted to embarrass themselves if she'd ever call upon them, and now that she had, none of them were willing to screw up the opportunity.
As one, they launched themselves into the sky- the shadows behind them following a moment later. They rose up above the cityscape, speeding far and above the surveillance zone of anyone possibly watching the Tower. While they wouldn't move so high up that Akitsushiman aerial mages would be deployed, they weren't exactly invisible either. At the same time, that hardly mattered- if they pushed themselves fast enough, nothing short of a coordinated military response would reasonably catch them. Protected by their computation devices, their only real limit was the strain that doing so would have on their body, but the risk and danger were well worth it.
As far as prior combat experiences had indicated, none of the threats they'd seen so far had the same aerial superiority that the Tresillo possessed. Reports had indicated that only Degurechaff herself seemed capable of following them up here should circumstances demand it. McRemitz's Lancer was dangerous on the ground, as was presumably whatever enemy was currently smashing its head against the Tower's defenses at the moment, but that was them fighting on the ground. The Tresillo had no illusions on how well they'd fare against those sorts of opponents, so the prudent course of action was to ensure fighting them on their chosen ground was never an option.
Considering their behavior, that their modus operandi relied so much on their ability to engage ground targets, they probably didn't have the ability to follow them. Working off from that conclusion, fleeing to the sky was probably the safest option that they could reasonably take.
The shadows continued to follow. They'd dissolved significantly since the Tresillo had taken flight, looking less like whole human beings and more like disembodied torsos disintegrating through the air, but they remained all the same. Morrison took the time to check on Galliasta (who remained quite thoroughly unconscious), while Isabel checked and double-checked bearings.
Only two things served as any indication that something, anything, was about to go wrong. The first was the sudden movements of the shadows themselves, veering away from the squad and dropping almost straight down to the ground. The second was the sudden screeching of an alarm as Morrison's onboard computer. Instantly, instinct took over as a sudden burst of magic sent her spiraling into the air as an uncomfortable degree of heat dissipated any chill that the night air might have imparted. A cerulean beam passed her, only mere inches away from leaving less than survivable injuries as diagnostic systems repaired the damage her shields had sustained.
"Contact!" some dipshit said aloud, the words sending a burst of anger through her veins. Yeah, no shit there was contact. Morrison allowed herself the brief emotion, before shutting it down and snapping to her diagnostics. "Confirmed contact. Below us, southward bearing, rising quickly-"
The shadows had already made their move, transmuted weapons in their hands as cerulean beams manifested and fired downwards-
The contact shifted immediately to the side, energy discharge from the shadows passing it by as it dodged the shots with uncommon elegance. A moment later, matching cerulean light manifested from the enemy, aimed straight at the duo. They dodged the shot easily, only for the cerulean energy to burst into a dozen more projectiles before continuing the chase and obliterating one of the shadows instantly. The other one continued to fight, the clouds briefly obscuring the light show as Morrison turned back to face the rest.
"Big trouble, looks like an aerial mage."
There was a pause at that as everyone digested that. With Southwind busy elsewhere, and every other member of the Tresillo accounted for, unless this was someone completely new, there was really only one other person that could possibly be chasing them right now.
"Fang." Isabel remarked darkly. "Alright, everyone strap in. We're going supersonic."
Holographic panels settled across Morrison's vision, a slowly building sense of panic that got thoroughly quashed as discipline reasserted herself. "What about Degurechaff? This is the exact sorta shit she wanted to be informed of right?"
"I'm trying."
She grimaced. Considering how important the package seemed to be for Galliasta, the fact that she wasn't responding was bad. It meant that Fang was somehow neutralizing their comms. "Doesn't matter! One of her boys got shut down, right? She's bound to notice that at least."
Isabel nodded. "Right. Sweeper on me, sync to my flight pattern, and move on my mark-"
Something, maybe instinct, maybe sheer dumb luck, seemed to scream at her to move. Morrison didn't question it, and in that same instant, she accelerated forward, a supersonic burst that staggered and scattered the rest of the squad. A moment later, multiple supersonic sequences were registered as the rest of Sweeper followed her.
"What the fuck was that?"
Morrison shook her head. How the hell was she supposed to explain that? "Just- it was a bad feeling, is all. It's fine- are we still jammed?"
Thankfully, Isabel seemed to set it aside for another time. "If we still are, it should go away soon," she noted confidently. "We're too high up for the disruption to be anything else but her, as long as we get far enough away from her we should be fine."
Holographic panels shimmered to life at the corner of Morrison's vision, and her mood soured instantly. She transmitted the image to Isabel, of an aerial mage contact slowly closing the distance between them.
"Yeah well." Morrison sighed. "Someone should really tell her to fuck off then."