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Private message from Demolition1st:
Demolition1st: Really? A 90s Aleph show reference?
Pocket_Sand: What's wrong with that?
Pocket_Sand: Yours is just your power!
Demolition1st: Nothing, nothing. Just surprised is all. Here's those files, lmk if you have any questions. Have fun!
Demolition1st: AndI'll have you know I made this account before all that. Happy coincidence.
Demolition1st: Oh btw, got a job lined up in NYC. Meet up later for details, leaving tomorrow.
Taylor grumbled, opening the link and waiting for the files to download. So she did indulge a little with the reference, but it was a perfectly fine name for an online message board and, crucially, it wasn't connected to her cape or civilian name. If she used the account to post anything, she'd rather any information provided not to be linked with either identity.
Not that there was much separating the two. Taylor had realized – and Faultline had made it very clear in one of their meetups – that any semblance of a secret identity was hanging on by an extremely thin thread. The mercenary had done her best to warn off any 'interested parties' and Taylor needed to do her best to maintain the polite fiction that would, hopefully, protect her remaining family.
The so-called Unwritten Rules were far from infallible, with their validity being directly proportionate to the reputation of whoever was enforcing them. Faultline and the crew had a lot of that to go around, and Taylor could lean on their fame and infamy while she built her own. The bank debacle was not a good start, but thankfully it was very early on in her career and the local news had only made a passing mention of her involvement. For the most part, they could pretend it never happened, but Faultline had stressed the importance of not forgetting the lessons Taylor learned from it.
She drummed her fingers against the living room wood table, staring at the glacial progress bar and letting her mind drift to the other part of her boss' message. New York huh? She knew Legend was running the Protectorate there, but not much else. It might be a good idea to do some research on the scene there in that case.
Checking the download's status and seeing it only half-way done, she tabbed back to PHO, scrolling idly through new posts about the Bay. One caught her attention.
Topic: Trainyard fire stamped out?
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay ► BB Burning Discussions
CliffHanger (Original Poster)
Posted On Apr 23rd 2011:
The sky's not glowing orange anymore and I've been seeing fire crews leaving for the past hour. I really think it's over guys.
(Showing page 1 of 1)
► Grouse
Replied On Apr 23rd2011:
Like the docks were out and went up again on Tuesday? Yeah I'd wait a day or 5 before celebrating.
►4476798
Replied On Apr 23rd 2011:
Make that a couple weeks. All that junk's just looking for an excuse to start burning again. Mom has been complaining to city hall for years about the fire hazard, but fuck doing anything about before it's too late, I guess. Well now her job's gone with the fire. Thanks a lot assholes.
And on that note, Fuck Lung. Good riddance to the bastard. I hope it hurt, fucking piece of shit.
-User has been warned for this post. We understand that you're angry, but please keep profanity to a minimum. -Tin_Mother
End of Page. 1
She hadn't even known part of Brockton was still burning. The Trainyard had been abandoned for years, ever since the shipping industry moved out of the city and took the freight transport business with it. It was largely considered the worst part of town, though a few people still worked there, with one or two trains coming in every month. If the old stations had burned down, then they wouldn't even have that anymore.
It made her question things. Would clearing the boat graveyard do anything, or was it going to stay a purely symbolic gesture, one last gasp before the city went fully under? And on that note, what were their chances, really, of getting the outside help they would need? Kurt was optimistic that he could pitch the project to the feds. Lacey, despite the unease she felt at effectively Mastering someone, agreed that what they had done would give them the best chance of things working out.
The auction for the salvage rights ended yesterday. With so much material basically free for the taking, and the prospect of government assistance in retrieving it, interest had been high. All that was left was the final pitch.
But the Bay was looking more and more like a powder keg with each passing day, and the era of investing in big, risky projects had passed with the death of Vikare and the Golden Age. Then again, maybe the indifference of the local authorities had taught her to expect the worst, or perhaps there was some angle she couldn't see. The past few days – almost two weeks now – with the crew had taught her that there was a lot she didn't know.
A sharp beep startled her, derailing any further thoughts on the matter. Navigating to file explorer, Taylor found the compressed archive she had just downloaded. The laptop fans picked up speed as the old machine struggled to open the file. She found out the reason for that about a minute later.
Hundreds of documents, spreadsheets and folders were packed inside, representing likely years of work, and she understood why Faultline didn't expect her to go through all this any time soon. At the top was a simple text document with the name '!ReadMe'. She opened it.
! - Notepad
Label new stuff with name-title (three words max)-creation date. If away, send any changes to me and I'll add it to the live copy later.
Curious, she opened the next one. By the file's name, it was the most recent.
Faultline-Lead on Ω - Protected View ■ Saved to H: Drive
Private eye got back to me about an unusual case. A girl down in Vegas that looks like she appeared out of thin air. Contact couldn't find any background info; girl's been using a bunch of different names. One that sounds cape-y. Shamrock. Looks like she's got the tattoo on her, but looks fully human? Also seems to remember her past. Most promising lead we've had so far but getting in touch will be difficult.
Running in gambling circles. Very high stakes. A luck-based power? Not very smart trying to pull that in Vegas. I told the contact to keep an eye out for her.
Update (03/15/2011): To no one's surprise, she's been driven out of town by local security. Evaded the PRT pretty well though. People on scene said she was heading east. It's going to be a pain tracking her, but we have a list of the names she's used. She won't come up with any new ones if we're lucky.
Update (03/17/2011): Tracked to Salt Lake City.
Update (03/20/2011): Tracked to Denver.
Update (03/27/2011): Tracked to Houston.
Update (04/02/2011): Tracked to Tampa. It's getting very tempting to take a field trip for her. We'll see if she stops at any big East-Coast cities for a while.
Update (04/15/2011): Spotted outside Philly, hitchhiking with a trucker towards New York.
Update (04/21/2011): Seen in New York. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up. Hopefully she stays and doesn't make a run for it to Canada.
So, they were investigating Case-53s. It made a certain amount of sense, with Newter and Gregor on the team. Taylor couldn't really imagine waking up one day in a strange place with no memories of her past, but she'd most likely want to figure out the why's and how's too. As for Faultline, maybe she just found the mystery interesting?
Either way, she could see why they were going to New York, though she wondered if tracking down Shamrock would be the job itself or a detour after they were done. A human-looking Case-53 with memories seemingly intact was a big lead, as long as they were genuine.
A lot of people in the past had tried to pass off as Case-53s, whether for PRT grants, just for the hell of it or for some other reason, but the fakes were never very convincing.
"What's that?"
Taylor yelped as a hand rested gently on her shoulder. She tilted the laptop's screen downwards, hiding it from view, and turned back to look at Kurt's slight smile of amusement. She matched it with a glare of mock anger.
"Just doing some reading," she said, trying to be as dismissive as possible.
"Hm~, well, I came to fetch you for lunch. Come on, while it's still warm," Kurt replied, patting her shoulder and turning away.
He seemed to take her word at face value, or maybe he thought she was being a teenager and looking at something weird.
Taylor closed everything and spent about half a second contemplating where to hide the archive, before throwing it in her 'Homework' folder and calling it done. She then shut off the laptop and hurried after Kurt.
"Uhm, is it ok if I head to town later?" Normally, Taylor would have already left before the two came home for lunch, but she spent more time with PHO and everything else than she expected.
"Of course. I can drive you after lunch if you want. Going out with those friends of yours?"
Her mind ground to a halt. What? How did he find out? How much did he know? Standing there in the middle of the hallway, her thoughts spiraled more and more into panic. Her first instinct was to deny, deny, deny. Assume the worst and run damage control.
Instead, Taylor did something she wouldn't have two weeks ago. She ignored that visceral reaction and thought the situation through, asking herself a simple question.
What would Faultline do?
"You know, it'd be much easier if you just told them you're running with us."
Ok, what would Faultline do other than telling the whole truth? The small lessons, lectures and advice the mercenary had given her rose to the surface. It wasn't much, just barely anything above basic conversation techniques, but it was much more than she had before meeting the older woman.
"Yeah, we're meeting downtown. I wanted to take a walk anyway, so you don't have to drive me," she answered, just confirming what he already said and not giving any more away. She tried to seem calm, confident in what she was saying, even if she really wasn't.
Some part of her – a part that she'd thought dead for years – realized that this kind of reaction to simple interest wasn't normal. Taylor knew that of all the options for parahuman employment in the Bay that didn't involve the PRT and could keep her and her family safe, the mercenary crew was the lesser evil.
And she knew, logically, that Kurt and Lacey would understand her choice. They wouldn't exactly like that she was running with 'villains' and they'd be worried for her, but they would surely understand it was necessary. Maybe after an argument or two, but they'd never hold it against her.
Yet every time she actually thought about coming clean, all that logic left out the window.
Kurt didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil – or if he did, he didn't say anything about it – instead just moving the conversation along.
"Fair enough. By the way, it took the pal a little bit, but Smith did recognize you. If Lacey asks, I gave you a stern lecture about hanging around bars and underage drinking," he said with mirth in his voice, though that was replaced with worry soon after.
"Seriously though," he continued, "I know you're probably a lot tougher than a regular person, but that's no reason to not take care of yourself. Be careful out there, alright? And if you need anything, you can always come to us."
Taylor nodded, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. At the same time, a sense of guilt stabbed her chest, warring with the deeply ingrained paranoia. Lying to them like this, it just wasn't right. They deserved to know. But at the same time, trying to bring herself to do it felt like pulling out a molar.
As they moved into the kitchen, one part of that conversation stuck out to her, names and descriptions clicking into place.
"Hold on. Smith? The same guy that..."
"Yep. That's him."
"He owns a bar?" The idea of a seemingly strong Master doing something so...mundane for a living was a bit hard for her to grasp. When Kurt had brought up the idea of a parahuman bartender all those days ago, she assumed it'd be a low-rated Thinker or something similar.
"That he does."
They sat down at the small table, Lacey already digging in. Lunch was a simple affair, with the three mostly chatting about how work at the Union was going. Taylor let the conversation distract her from the worries of a budding double life.
But as the plates emptied and the talk waned, that same guilt from before returned with a vengeance. With it came the reminder that the day of her first job was fast approaching and she still hadn't figured out what to tell the two of them. Taylor thought about putting it off until after the team meeting, or even until the last minute, but something about that rubbed her the wrong way. Perhaps because she knew, she'd just keep putting it off until it was too late.
Taylor bit the bullet and decided to go for the first thing she thought of. It didn't need to be a great excuse, just good enough to explain why she wanted to get out of the Bay for a couple of days.
"So, those friends I'm meeting with later. Well, their...caretaker is planning a short trip out of Brockton and... she invited me to go with them." She was already internally cringing at how flimsy that sounded, even as she tried to appear casual about the idea.
Lacey and Kurt looked at each other, having one of those silent conversations that Taylor could never follow. Her worry grew as she tried in vain to guess. What would she do if they said no, disappear for days for no discernable reason? She couldn't do that to them. But what other choice would she have?
God, what if they already knew the whole truth and they didn't care how necessary it was? Were they thinking about throwing her out?
After about a minute of awkward silence, Lacey turned her attention back to Taylor. The woman's warm, soothing voice broke through the teen's panic with ease.
"That's ok with us, hon. God knows some time away from this city could do anyone some good. But I want this caretaker's name and a number we can contact her on. Do you know when and where you're going?"
That was unexpected to say the least, and felt almost too easy. She almost got the sense that something was being left unsaid. Still, she wouldn't question it, not right now at least.
She took out her phone, giving out the number Faultline had for things just like this, along with one of the mercenary's civilian aliases. Lacey noted it all down on her own device, all the while the three kept talking about the specifics.
The guilt did not disappear, but it did lessen. She'd need to figure something out soon, or just work up the courage to tell them the full story.
She watched them, as they argued about which sights were a must-see and which were worthless tourist traps. About food trucks and diners. She could be at peace, almost happy, with this last bit of family she had left. There was really only one thing stopping her.
After the job, Taylor told herself. She'd tell them as soon as she came back.
The partygoers waiting in line shot her odd looks as she walked up to the club doors. Her black cargo pants and grey short-sleeve shirt were common enough, but Pyroclast's 'mask' was unmistakable. The bouncer recognized it, greeting her as she walked in.
Despite outside appearances, Taylor was far from comfortable, especially in such a crowded area. Emma had made a habit of finding something to mock every single day and Taylor's thin physique, her 'stick-figure arms' especially, was among the bully's favorites.
And even now, months after her last interaction with the traitorous bitch, she expected the redhead to emerge out of the crowd and begin the torment all over again, and unlike that last confrontation back in January, Taylor would have no one here to shield her from it.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself in the present. Emma wasn't here. As for the crowd, she could learn to deal with that. The stares as well, eventually. For now, she could fake the confidence well enough.
Taylor moved through the outskirts of the dance floor, towards the stairs leading to the upper floor.
Most of the rooms upstairs were lived-in but empty. She followed the faint sounds of conversation until they led her to the end of the hallway, in front of a partially closed door. She steadied her breathing again. This was it. Not a lesson or power practice, but the official start of her mercenary career.
"Hey Pyroclast, do you want to come in or are you going to stand there all night?"
Taylor would have blushed if she still could. She pushed the door open all the way, leaving her backpack leaning against the wall as she entered. Everyone was gathered, lounging around the room. A projector was resting on the table, facing a blank wall. She waved, getting a variety of greetings back.
Faultline clapped once, "Well, now that everyone's here, we should get started. I know the party downstairs is tempting but with how early we're leaving tomorrow, it's lights out once we're done with the briefing."
The team moved with no complaint. It had been slightly jarring for Taylor at first how they could switch from jovial and relaxed to 'business-mode' in the blink of an eye. She'd gotten used to it by now, and even tried to follow their example.
She helped with setting up the chairs in a semi-circle, facing the blank wall. Faultline set a laptop onto the table and hooked it up. Once everyone was ready and had taken their seats, the lights were dimmed. The wall they faced was lit up by the projector, showing an annotated map of New York.
"Before we begin. Pyroclast, did you have any time to go through the latest of the files I sent you?"
"The one about Shamrock? I had a quick look."
Faultline seemed pleased, "Excellent, we can get right into it then." She pressed something and two pictures appeared on each side of the map. One was a photo of a slender, red-haired woman, taken from afar. Despite seeing it before, Taylor still had to squash her initial reaction. This person had no relations with Emma, no matter how similar they looked. In the end, she managed to stay impassive.
The other picture was of a nondescript briefcase.
"As you all know, we've recently managed to track down a very promising lead for our personal investigation. According to the latest reports, Shamrock has set up shop in New York for the time being, though we have no idea how long that will last, hence the need to expedite things."
She gestured towards Taylor, "Also, it is time for our newest member to take her first steps into the mercenary life. I've managed to secure a well-paying transportation job. Our client has opted to remain anonymous, but the local scene speaks well of him. Of course, we'll take our own precautions."
Gregor spoke up, "Any info on what exactly we're transporting?"
"No specifics, unfortunately. Item is a standard 45 by 30 office briefcase but the contents are confidential, other than being assured that it's not something dangerous," Faultline replied, then chuckled.
"We'll pack it in a secondary container to be safe. I'll dig out the old, tinkertech armored case once we're done here."
She switched the display to a satellite picture of, presumably, part of New York. It looked like the Bay's port but much larger and busier.
"I've got more details on the pick-up and drop-off. Port Newark-Elizabeth Marine Terminal is our pick-up location, with exact coordinates for the specific area. Time for pick-up is late evening on the 24th, right before sunset. We'll scope out the place once we arrive tomorrow morning."
The display switched again, this time to the street view of a worn-down building, looking like part of a stadium.
"We drop off the package inside the press booth of Belson Stadium, any time before ten the following morning but preferably after eight, to minimize the chances of interception at the drop-off. It's unlikely, but possible, that we'll encounter trouble during pick-up. The risk profile for the job is medium-low."
The picture of the woman was back on screen.
"As for Shamrock, the plan is to track her down in New York, determine if she's the real deal and interview her. We have a list of names she has used and locations she frequents. Any insight she may have on Case-53s or about Omega could be invaluable, especially considering the dead ends we've hit on that front recently. Any offers of employment or a close partnership will have to wait until we meet face to face. Any questions?" She turned the lights back on as the presentation ended.
"Are the boys in blue going to be on us for that package?" Newter asked.
Faultline shook her head, "According to our employer, it's not stolen or contraband. However, the sense I got from him is more along the lines of 'no one will be looking for it'. It'll be a good idea to avoid areas with heavy police or PRT presence, just to be on the safe side."
Spitfire cut in, "In what order are we doing this? Finding Shamrock doesn't sound as urgent as the transport, but we probably shouldn't put it off too much. She might go to ground if she hears people are looking for her."
The boss agreed, "And so, I'm proposing we split up. You, Gregor and Newter can get started on tracking down our lead as soon as we get to NY, while I, Labyrinth and Pyroclast handle the transport. Between the three of us, there shouldn't be much we can't handle, certainly nothing in the scope of the job. We'll join you after the package is taken care of."
"Are you sure, boss?" Newter sounded unsure, "I know there's not much a Striker and two Shakers can't handle, but New York has a lot it can throw at you."
"That's why each team is taking their own vehicle, and we'll be staying in touch the entire time. If things go south and we need backup, you three can be right there. Even if it's against someone we can't get away from or fight head on, I think we can stall for fifteen or twenty minutes. Same for you, don't hesitate to call for us if there's unexpected trouble."
Labyrinth nodded along cheerfully. Taylor was less sure about the idea, but if the item really was something few people would know or care about, then she figured it'd be alright. As for Newter, though some worry remained, the answer seemed to satisfy him.
"Now, last but certainly not least, our pay. We're getting five grand each for two days of work, with ten paid to the org. We have a safehouse secured and ready for us when we get there, so no accommodation costs to worry about. As always, keep track of gas and food money spent so I can put it down in business expenses."
Faultline stood up, shutting off the projector.
"If that is all, you can go pack your bags. We're leaving at 5 AM so make sure to get some rest. Pyroclast, are we picking you up from home?"
"Uhm, no, I'm spending the night. I already got the ok from my family so..."
Taylor couldn't see it, but she was absolutely certain Faultline was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. The others had left for their rooms, so it was just the two of them.
"I'm guessing I should expect some phone calls on my civie number?"
"...Sorry."
The woman sighed, "It's ok. I did give you that option, after all, and I promised to follow your lead on this. But you really should tell them."
"I'll do it soon." Taylor affirmed, both to her boss and herself.
Faultline gave her an evaluating stare then acknowledged her answer, apparently finding what she was looking for.
"I'm certain it'll be fine. But if it'd make it easier for you, I can be there as well."
Taylor appreciated that, she really did, but she wasn't sure if she'd take that offer. Faultline walked towards the door, picking up Taylor's backpack along the way and beckoning her towards the hall.
"Come on, I'm sure we have a spare room with a bed you can use."
New York was...different, yet very similar to what she already knew. Much like Brockton, the sound of police sirens seemed to echo almost permanently through the city, except here there were more of them. It mixed with the noises of a busy metropolis to create the same cacophony she had grown up with. The smells were familiar as well; an ocean spray combined with the stench of exhaust, sweat and decay.
But the general atmosphere of the city, the people themselves, couldn't be further from what she was used to seeing in the Bay. They were, for lack of a better word, happier. Care-free, almost, at least in comparison to what she knew. There were still parahumans, gangs and villains – violence and death – but the city seemed better equipped to handle it. These people had no doubt suffered in one way or another, but they weren't as tired of it all as the locals of Brockton. A tiny spark of the Golden Age was still alive here.
Maybe they were just a bit higher up the drain that the whole world was circling. Perhaps it would all be the same in a few years. But in the here and now, Taylor found herself feeling envy for the people of New York. Was there any way for her home to be like this? To restore the corpse of her city to a less putrid state?
Before today, she may have thought that Brockton's sole problem was the gangs. But now, seeing New York and knowing that The Elite and The Teeth were out there, she couldn't help but wonder what really made Brockton Bay different. Was it size? Law enforcement? The boat graveyard? All the above and more she couldn't think of?
"Pyroclast, no getting lost in thought while on the job." Faultline patted Taylor's shoulder from the driver's seat, snapping her back to the real world.
"Sorry, sorry. Are we good to go?"
"Gregor just called in; they've managed to narrow down the general area of Shamrock's whereabouts," Faultline said, hiding away her phone somewhere inside her armor and grabbing a small crowbar off the dashboard, "As for us, it's almost time. You have the tinkertech case?"
Taylor reached down underneath her seat, pulling up the case and setting it across her lap. She tested the latches like Faultline had shown her.
"All good."
Her boss turned towards Labyrinth, who was sitting in the back. The girl gave her a thumbs up before she could even ask. This was it then.
"Alright people, showtime."
They got out of the car, moving across the nearly empty parking lot towards a chain-link fence that ran along the terminal's borders. The setting sun shone through stacked containers, casting long shadows that helped them stay hidden. The terminal wasn't as busy as it had been earlier in the day, but there were still people around, working nearby.
Faultline ran her fingertips across the links, each application of her power producing a clean cut. Within seconds, there was a thin gap they could squeeze through. They walked further in, then continued in between containers, heading further south. A few minutes later they came to a clearing among the stacks.
"Target is at our 12, right ahead. Stay close to cover and keep your eyes peeled."
Taylor saw Labyrinth nod and she did the same. They slowly circled the clearing from the right, approaching an unremarkable, numbered container. A brief glint somewhere off in the distance caught Taylor's attention, but when she looked there were only birds flying around. The crane above them creaked and groaned, loose cables swaying in the wind. She shook her head. It was nothing, just her being paranoid.
Instead of entering through the front, they moved to the back of the container. Another quick application of Faultline's power and there was a new entrance.
"Just in case the door is trapped," Faultline explained in a low voice.
They entered. The interior was partly illuminated from the hole they'd cut. There were wooden boxes and pallets but nothing obviously like what they were after. Faultline seemed to know what she was doing though, mumbling under her breath as she passed by the different crates.
"Should be here," she said, tapping the crowbar against a specific one. Taylor moved next to her, while Labyrinth stayed by the makeshift door. A minute with the crowbar later and the top of the crate was off to reveal an assortment of fruit she didn't recognize.
"Are you sure that's-" she cut herself off as Faultline reached inside, shoving fruit aside to reach something near the middle, until finally pulling out what they'd come here for. She reached for the case in Taylor's hands, then after some fiddling, sealed their objective inside.
"Oldest smuggling trick in the book, though it's not very effective nowadays. Thank God these haven't gone through customs yet. It'd be really embarrassing trying to explain how the package was nabbed by the local port authority of all people. Anyway, come on, let's get going." Faultline started walking towards the entrance they'd made, and Taylor moved to follow her.
In the next moment, she felt real pain for the first time since that night. The bang of metal striking through metal echoed inside the container, followed by a faint crack of wind that spread across the whole terminal, almost simultaneously. She saw her right arm drop to the floor, completely separated from her body, forming a pile of ash as whatever held her together no longer worked on the detached limb. More ash flowed from the short stump like a waterfall until that too was completely gone, along with most of her shoulder. The flow stopped there.
Taylor dropped to her knees, struggling not to scream and so far succeeding. She noticed Faultline clutching her side, blood staining her hands. Whatever obliterated her limb had managed to punch all the way through the hard material that made up her body, and then went on to hit her boss as well.
"Fucking hell! Pyroclast, I know you're in agony, but you need to get away from that door right now."
She nodded, standing weakly and shuffling forward. Labyrinth met her halfway to help and Faultline followed close behind. They took cover at the very back of the container, staying low and putting as many crates as possible between them and the front.
"Only a graze. Small mercies. Pyroclast, talk to me. Are you bleeding in any way? Feeling weaker?"
Taylor shook her head, clutching the 'wound' and curling in on herself. The pain had subsided to a dull throb, but the stress of the situation was getting to her. She focused on her breathing, on Faultline and Labyrinth's presence. She shoved down the panic and fear. They wouldn't help her or her team here.
She felt like it was working, but before any of them could say anything, the sound of footsteps outside reached them. A group, no more than ten people if she had to guess.
"Better come out, little piggies. Or my boss won't miss the next one."
Faultline cursed under her breath. There was no time to make a real plan, not with a sniper on a hair trigger and, apparently, the power or skill to track people through solid walls. She shoved the case into Taylor's chest.
"Go out the back. Hide this and call team two. Find the sniper if you can. We'll stall as long as possible," she whispered, giving Taylor a shove towards the entrance they'd made and standing up.
"Ok, ok, we're coming out. There's two of us. Don't shoot!" She shouted, walking slowly to the container's proper door with Labyrinth closely behind. At the same time, she touched seemingly random parts of the container and crates. Taylor moved in the opposite direction, careful not to make a sound.
Taylor broke out in a sprint as soon as she was outside. Before getting out of earshot, she heard the container door opening with a screech and Faultline talking to whoever was at the front.
"Animos. What an unpleasant surprise."