Michael bit his tongue, fighting the urge to demand an explanation as the van rolled into motion beneath him. Every time he thought he'd finally be able to get some answers, the mercenaries continued to speak in riddles. It was like they were trying to be as incomprehensible as possible. He was tired of quietly following along, waiting for information that never actually arrived.

"What the hell is the Bastion?" Michael asked in the ensuing quiet, as surprised faces turned to meet his own.

"Oh man, you really are new," Tommy said with a laugh. Danielle seemed more thoughtful at the outburst. Her eyes landed on his, sizing him up, before they shifted to gaze into the distance. He could almost see the methodical calculation, as the woman adjusted a mental map only she could see. Then, with a blink, she was back to focusing on him.

"WESTON Headquarters," she finally said. "We know it as the Bastion. Soon, you'll get a chance to see exactly why."

"Steadfast's owners? The construction company?" Michael asked, frustrated at the vague answer. "You say that like we're attacking a actual fortress. Aren't they just… well, WESTON?" He trailed off. Glancing around the confines of the van, his own words felt unfamiliar. At some uncertain point he had slipped into another world, and it was only now that he looked around and realized just how lost he was.

"That's right. It is a fortress, or at least the closest thing there is to one," Danielle stated without a hint of mirth. "WESTON isn't just another company. None of the conglomerates in this city are, not the ones with drones playing hero at their beck and call. You know they have resources, money, and power." She paused, and Michael nodded uncertainly.

"Once they have those things, they aren't going to give them up so easily."

"Yeah, I guess… But still, a fortress?" Michael couldn't help but voice his lingering doubts.

"It wasn't always one," a new voice broke in from the far end of the van. They were on the other side of the aisle and across from Danielle, hunched over in the corner. "WESTON's been in the city for a long while," the man said with a lackadaisical shrug. As he spoke, he pressed himself back into the walls, wriggling into a comfortable position amidst the steady shaking of the van.

"When they first got here, was the same as everybody else. A little spot downtown, and a bigger patch of land out where it didn't cost an arm and a leg. Then, as the years went by, they kept getting bigger. Out away from the public eye one or two buildings turned into four or five. A fence turned into a wall, and then a bigger wall. Once they got their hands on some folks happy to play hero, things really started to take off. Labs, warehouses, dormitories, the works. Their office downtown didn't change that much, maybe shuffled a bit closer in, but on the edge of the city, the Bastion was born. Course, it's been a while since those glory days. Otherwise just getting over the walls would be suicide."

"More or less." Danielle picked the conversation back up with a nod. "But past its prime or not, the Bastion is still a fortress. Within those walls is practically it's own world; the PRT themselves can't even afford to investigate too deeply. However, we aren't attacking. Even with their drones out chasing Swallow and the boss, the security is too high." She was addressing the entire van now. "We will be sneaking in, taking what we can, and leaving before it's too late. If anything goes wrong, evacuate back to the vans and prepare to leave. You don't want to be caught inside the walls."

Despite her words of caution, one of the other mercenaries interjected as she paused to take a breath. "Salvage rules on loot?" he questioned, and Danielle's reluctant confirmation eased the tension and sparked resurfacing grins.

"Don't get ahead of yourselves. Find and secure the packages first, before you start fantasizing about payday," she said, tamping down the excitement. "After that, we still need to get out safely. Speaking of." As she spoke, she reached down again, this time shuffling slightly to the side to open a second panel. Again she slid out a secured crate, but this time Michael recognized the contents the moment she opened the lid. Held in place with plastic inserts, a half-dozen rifles shone dully beneath the overhead light.

"… Aren't we supposed to be sneaking in?" Michael asked slowly, eyeing the display. One by one, the weapons were passed down the length of the van. It was a slower procession than the vests, barrels remaining carefully trained at the floor even as they shuffled from person to person. This time, however, nobody offered one to him.

"If everything goes to plan," Danielle said calmly, as she cast her eyes critically over her rifle. "Like the vests, however, it's better to have them and not need them. Rest assured, avoiding casualties is in everyone's best interests. That's why most of the groups in the city use rubber bullets."

"Most?" He seized the word.

"Most. Hence the vests. Besides, baton rounds are less lethal, not safe. An unlucky shot can kill you just as easily as an ordinary bullet." Satisfied with whatever she saw, Danielle concluded her inspection.

"Alright. Any problems with gear?" Danielle asked to the van as the mercenaries finished settling into place. When nobody spoke up, she continued. "Good. Here is our job for this mission." In a moment, everyone in the vehicle was focused, waiting expectantly.

"Tonight our squad is the rearguard. We will be working with Squad Two to secure the site and search for the supplies within. Highest priority is anything that WESTON and their tinker might be using. Raw materials are good; specialty electronics or partial components are better. If it looks expensive, mark it and get myself or Marcus in Squad Two to take a look. If you find WESTON proprietary tech, get another one of your squadmates and search that entire area.

"Jolt, you know your role. Tag the squad and get ready to pull us out if we get stuck behind covering the rear." Michael's fingers drummed in anticipation as Danielle addressed him once again.

"Fathom, you're on the search for tinkertech." At her command, he was all too happy to nod, releasing a breath. This job was something that he'd expected, and hoped for. With Splintered Arms securing the area, there shouldn't be anything to get in the way.

"If there's any tinkertech there, I'll find it," he promised. Danielle, on the other hand, remained unmoved.

"There's no guarantee," she cautioned. "The chances are good, but we aren't going to be assaulting the labs themselves. Our destination is at Shipping—temporary storage. Everything within is pending transit, in or out. We don't know what will be there to take, but the security is minimal. Relatively."

With her final declaration, the singular focus of the squad was allowed to fade, and murmured conversation broke out among the rear of the van. Across from Michael, Jolt remained as silent as she'd been the entire ride, and he too stayed quiet, leaning back and letting the rumble of the vehicle wash over him.

~~~~ ~~~~

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the noise dwindled and then vanished as the van came to an unhurried halt. Michael stirred, twinges of adrenaline driving him upright and sending him glancing towards Danielle, but she held up a hand, forestalling any questions. He wasn't the only one curious, as around him the conversation died.

"We're not inside yet." Danielle informed them all. "Squad One is securing our entrance. Once they take the gate, we move in." From her tone, failure wasn't even a consideration. The confidence was reassuring, intended or not.

Quiet filled the rear of the van as everyone strained, listening for the slightest change. The walls of the vehicle muffled the noise from outside, though even if they hadn't, their squad was probably well out of earshot. As pointless as it was, however, Michael couldn't bring himself to make a sound. Seconds ticked by slowly, silently, and then the van rolled into motion. With it, the fragile peace shattered, and quiet but enthusiastic celebration filled the air.

Beneath them, wheels thumped as they cruised through what must have been the gate, maintaining a steady speed. The drive continued for another minute, as Michael felt a hard turn shifting him back and forth along the bench, and then, without any further ado, they stopped.

The rear doors opened into a dark and towering landscape. To the left, past a long stretch of open ground, a tall wall dragged along the edge of visibility. In either direction, it faded into the darkness.

On the right, the inky black void coalesced into physical form. One edge of a wide, wide building sat beside the road, notched with vacant loading bays. Beside the nearest one, a steel door sat recessed into the wall. It looked tiny beside the locked shutters.

There was a quiet shuffle as mercenaries began trickling out of the vehicles, a repetitive thump as they disembarked and dropped to the ground one by one. Jolt was the first one out of their van, turning to offer a hand to the rest of the team. It wasn't necessary, but Michael took the extra assistance. Behind him, so did everyone else, including Danielle. The last one out of the vehicle, she closed the door behind the squad as they gathered close. With a jerk of her head, she directed them towards the others.

Squad Two was collected together, waiting as they approached, but around them individual men and women spread out amidst the vehicles, taking up position behind engines and wheel wells with eyes peeled outwards. As Michael suspected, the leader from the rooftop was among them, head on a swivel. He didn't spare a glance at Danielle and Marcus or their respective squads. Another mercenary knelt next to him, busy with a bundle on the ground beside the van. It wasn't until Michael took a second look that he realized it wasn't a bundle, but a person, slumped and tied. Unconsciously, he took a half-step back. Judging from the uniform, that must have been the guard at the gate.

Michael turned away from the sight, back to his squad. They were already starting to move; evidently everyone was present. Marcus and his team led the way, the others only a few steps behind. Together, they approached the door.

From the leader of Squad Two's hand came a faint jingle as he flipped through what must have been the guard's ring of keys. Grasping one spot along the thick bundle, he shook the rest back down onto the loop and lifted a small plastic fob to his eyes. In the gloom it was barely visible, until someone clicked on a faint penlight, keeping it pointed at the ground.

With the confirmation, Marcus moved forward to press it against the keypad. He was tall enough that he had to lean, but regardless of the awkward position, the pad lit green and the door clicked. With a cautious tug, it opened before them, and they piled inside.

Directly behind the doors a long hallway stretched for dozens of yards before turning out of sight. It was lit intermittently, with industrial fluorescent bulbs spaced out along the drop ceiling. Only every fourth or fifth one was actually turned on, leaving the space dim but still brighter than outside.

Danielle gathered Squad Three to the side, holding them back as the others moved further into the building.

"Wait until they give the all-clear," she instructed. "Keep an eye on the corridor." Ahead of them, Squad Two had made it to a set of double doors, almost directly underneath one of the few lights. The illumination was enough for Michael to see Marcus fish something out of his pocket—a thin, rectangular object. Instead of the fob that had gotten them inside the building, he used this new card on the second set of doors. Just as before, it took only a moment before they were open, and he vanished inside.

"S' always the stupidest mistakes," someone murmured. Turning, Michael saw the man who'd been slouched in the corner of the van, now shaking his head at the sight in front of them.

"Spend a fortune on security and it falls apart cause one idiot can't keep hold of his stuff," the man continued. "Just goes to show ya; weakest link's always the people. No matter where ya go, it's all the same." More than anything else, he sounded wryly amused.

Ahead of them, one of the mercenaries reappeared at the door. His head was pointed back into the room, holding a conversation that Michael couldn't quite make out, and then he turned and waved them forward. Together, Squad Three shuffled quietly down the hallway and through the doors.

Inside, Marcus was waiting for them.

"Clear," he reported quietly. "Worked as planned; nothing extra was needed. Start the search?" His words were solely for Danielle, ignoring the others at the entrance, and she nodded.

"Let's go. Everyone stay quiet," she commanded in a half-whisper, then paused, looking over the group.

"I want one of you with Fathom," she added before they could disperse. Michael frowned at the words.

He didn't need anyone to babysit him. There was a towering expanse of storage racks before them, stretching down the length of the room and piled high with supplies. Even though the rows grew increasingly barren further down, it would still take every available person to make any decent progress. Instead of standing over his shoulder, they'd be better served helping search.

"It's fine, I don't need any help," he protested, before being immediately overruled.

"That wasn't a suggestion," Danielle said. "On a mission, you follow my orders."

"I know, but it would be more efficient—"

"Fathom." Were it not for Danielle's hushed voice, the word would have cracked like a whip. As it was, the reprimand was unmistakable. "You do not argue. If you have a problem, it will be dealt with later. Not while on the job."

Around the pair, sidelong glances from the nearby mercenaries were enough to catch Michael's eye, a prodding reminder of his purpose. He was supposed to be making a good impression on Splintered Arms. Clicking his mouth shut, he nodded stiffly.

"Jolt. Stick with Fathom," Danielle ordered, and the taciturn cape silently moved over to join him. With a final nod, they were dismissed.

~~~~ ~~~~

Michael marched down the nearest aisle with Jolt at his shoulder, following a half-pace behind. He refused to look back, staring ahead down the long expanse at the far wall. Jolt didn't comment on his stiff pace, which he appreciated. The previous conversation still stung his pride. Finally, as the distance from the door grew, Michael slowed to an ordinary walk.

"You should talk to Danielle afterwards," Jolt spoke calmly, interjecting into the silence. "She's one of the better squad leaders." She didn't say any more, but Michael heard the implication. As reluctant as he was, getting off on the wrong foot wasn't impossible to fix.

Michael didn't say anything for a few seconds, before conceding with a sigh. "Swallow seemed much more relaxed," he admitted quietly.

"You've already met Swallow?" Jolt asked, and her voice was curiously blank. "What did you think of him?" Michael shrugged in response, reaching out to run his hand along the stacks as they continued walking.

"He seemed, I don't know, enthusiastic. Maybe a little wild." Michael remembered the scream of twisting metal as the building had collapsed, sinking inward. Behind him, Jolt was quiet.