Parked on the cracked icy road outside the old, forgotten subway entrance sat a battered delivery van, it's logo smeared and scratched with age. Patches of rust adorned the wheel arches and there was a large, spidering crack across the windscreen. A bored looking humanoid covered in sores and bruises sat at the wheel, a breather mask strapped tightly over his mouth, gloved fingers tapping a rythm out on the grubby steering wheel. He wore a set of blue armoured overalls and he was paying no attention whatsoever to the Clan Sub-Section Leader who had just shoved open the side door of the van. The heavily armoured Sub-Section Leader leaned out slightly, waving them forward.
''Get in the van. There's a shift swap coming soon. This'll be your only chance to get in and get Ovrach with minimal fuss.'' He said in a deep, commanding voice.
Spirit looked around, up and down the old side street. It was early morning; between the nightshift having closed and the day shift just opening for business. There was barely anyone on the street, but above their heads on the sky roads and overpasses, cars, lorries and shuttles thundered to and fro, going about their daily business. She urged her team in, climbing in after them and slamming the door shut. The Sub-Section Leader hammered twice on the cab wall and the van lurched forward with a grinding of gears.
''What can you tell us about this building?'' She asked the Sub-Section Leader.
He settled on his heels, rocking with the van as it careened around a corner and mounted a slip-road to join an overpass. The roar of engines suddenly surrounded them. He handed her a black microchip, identical to the one Galvon had given her the previous day in the bar. She loaded the data into her wrist comp and checked the accumulated info as it scrolled onto her HUD. It contained a floor plan of the sublevel factory, plus a plan of the plot of land it was situated in. Sentry markers littered the building's wireframe map. At the centre, in the main area of the factory were four triangular markers. The KR43 Needles. She shunted it to the others.

''Our scouts went in last night, under the cover of Junior Movers. They came back with reports of fifty counted men, each heavily armed. Each entrance is guarded all hours of the day. Ovrach is adamant he won't be turned over by another Enforcer raid.'' He said. ''But during the early hours, the guards they have posted are tired and the ones coming to relieve them are still groggy from sleep.''
''What's the best way to get in?'' She asked.
''There's a large skylight in the roof that sits slightly higher than the street. It's guarded from the wide balcony below it, but not as heavily as the loading doors and emergency routes. It's open, but it's your best bet at making it inside with minimal injury.''
''Any vents left open?'' Chester enquired.
The van lurched again and there was a swift blat of horns and some furious muffled swearing from the cab.
''Only the extractor fans. But none of those open out above a catwalk or balcony, so you'd be dead when you hit the floor.''
''Not necessarily...'' He said thoughtfully, rubbing the chin of his helmet. ''It's a sublevel building, so I'm assuming that it's heavily shadowed?''
''It is. Only the emergency lighting is operational so as to lower Ovrach's chances of getting raided again. Which means the ground floor where the missiles are being kept is the only place that gets any light. Why?'' The Sub-Section Leader asked curiously.
''People have been known to disappear when I go playing in the shadows.'' Chester grinned a toothy smile beneath his helmet.
The van leaned to the left, two wheels coming off the cracked road and it dove forward, down a slip-road, slewing around a series of tight bends and corners, finally coming to a stuttering, grumbling halt behind a squat and battered warehouse. The Clan Sub-Section Leader leaned forward past Spirit and Lenny, slid the door open and watched them carefully disembark, weapons raised.
''Captain. There are Sigmus Omega units close by. Call if you need back-up.''
The door slid closed. The driver, still ignoring them, took off again in a pall of slush, snow and blueish exhaust. The team looked around at their surroundings, checked their map and took off through the gently falling snow between the near identical buildings.

''You think we'll need support, Captain?'' Chester asked.
Spirit looked around. Thick dark grey clouds blanketed the sky, rendering the sun as a pale glow.
''It's possible. There's enough markers on the 'prints to give us serious trouble.''
They carefully scuttled around the far corner of the warehouse they'd been dropped in front of. Spirit leaned around the corner, taking in the view. Overflowing dumpsters that had been left to rot lined the alley that was squeezed between the two crumbling buildings. She looked back to her team, all lined up against the wall behind her, waiting for orders in silence, keeping a close eye on their surroundings. She checked the map that the nameless Sub-Section Leader had given her. They were on the very border of the plot of land that the old meat processing plant dominated. She gestured them forward and they scurried and dodged between buildings until they came to the edges of the sublevel factory. She called them to a halt and with a hand gesture, they slid into shadowed doorways, behind dumpsters and underneath an old lorry trailer that was sat on crusty, deflated tyres.
''Guards on the roof, there, there and there.'' She marked them on her wrist comp and shunted the update to the rest of the team.
''I see them.'' Lenny said.
''Me too.'' Came Oz's voice.

Lenny slid out from the cover of the doorway, sidled back around the side of the warehouse to the ladder they'd passed. He climbed up it, boots making barely any noise on the rusting rungs. Heaving himself silently up onto the flat roof of the warehouse, the lion drew his serrated blade and snuck around the fat squares of AC units that littered the roof. His target was heavily armoured in thick urban camouflage armour, a long sniper rifle slung across his chest. He crouched at the edge of the roof, peeking over the wall and down into the large expanse of concrete below. Not making a sound, Lenny crept up behind him, flexing his cybernetic fingers as he reached out to grab the man's head and twist it about, slicing the blade deep across his neck. Thick crimson gushed across his armoured hand as the sentry gurgled, thrashed in Lenny's iron grip then died. He lowered the guard carefully onto the mossy roof, taking his rifle and any ammunition he had. Across to his left on the neighbouring warehouses' rooftop, Oz was performing the same task. The sentry vanished downwards, out of the lion's line of sight. A grey armoured hand flailed into view then disappeared. Oz poked his head up carefully, scanning the other warehouse and factory rooftops. From opposite them, Chester gave a thumbs up, another armoured figure slumped in his grip, head lolling at an awkward angle.

''Me and Derron've done a quick scan of the perimeter and disabled the two security cameras for the processing plant.'' Kieron said over the team comm-channel.
''Excellent. Everyone good? No more hidden eyes or lenses watching us or the plant?'' Spirit asked. The replies all came back negative. ''Okay, let's get to that skylight.''
The team swiftly and carefully converged on the middle of the concrete expanse where a 20x10 skylight sat squat and neglected. The metal frame had once been a vivid red and yellow, but was now peeling and rusting. The glass it held in place was cracked, broken and milky, a few of the massive panes having been replaced by rusting sheets of flimsy tin. All the window locks were of mechanical design and on the inside. Derron, Oz and Lenny turned their backs to it as they kept an eye on the surrounding warehouses and factory buildings, whilst Spirit, Chester and Kieron peered in through the grimey panes of thick glass. Below them, beneath the surface was the plant's main floor. They could just make out the bulks of the old discarded machinery lying to the edges, pushed up against the walls, dark, corroded shapes in deep shadow. Directly beneath the skylight was a large balcony connected to walkways by flimsy looking narrow catwalks. Beneath the balcony, blurred by the mesh, were four long shapes, each one sharp tipped and black as space. The KR43 Needles; orbit to surface missiles. Just a pair of them contained enough explosive power capable of devastating an entire city. Developed by the Synthanoid Empire's greatest military scientists, the Needles contained an intergrated AI core designed to evade any and all attempts at stopping the missile before it reached its target. And the four missiles were surrounded by heavily armed guards with Ovrach nowhere to be seen. Spirit sighed. Kieron had taken to examining the skylight's frame, looking for a quiet way to gain entrance. He circled the low sitting structure and when he got back to Spirit, he shook his head and heaved a sigh of his own.

''No way but to smash our way in.'' He said.
She looked around then turned to Chester. ''That looks to be one of the old ventilation shafts that the Sub-Section Leader told us about. Think you could go down there, scout the place?''
He nodded, ''Give me five minutes then I'll give you a threat eval.'' He took off across what was essentially the roof of the plant, swinging around behind a large rusty metal box that sat in the darkened eaves of the neighbouring factory. 
His body turned to smoke as he blended with the shadows, using them to dive down through the wide opening of the ventilation pipe, past old fans that had rusted into position many years ago and finally out, down into the interior of the meat processing plant. A set of lights were bolted to the corners on the underside of the balcony above, illuminating the four missiles in a square of pale yellowish light. Beyond that square of light the darkness was all consuming, unpenetrable by what was left of the feeble emergency lighting. He loved it. He flexed in the shadows, relishing the freedom and the raw power he felt when merged with them. He flowed through them in utter silence, flying through a world detached from reality, a world that was at his disposal. He surged through corridors, into disused rooms and out again, up and down old creaking staircases and past Ovrach's men as they sleepily changed shifts. He was counting them all, taking stock of their weapons and brushing past the boundaries of their minds as he went. Flitting into an old office on the bottom floor, he stepped from the shadows and contacted the others on the surface, telling them of his discoveries.
''Yep, we're gonna need back-up. At least one unit.'' She replied with a soft sigh.
''Only one? I counted fifty-five heartbeats down here. How many Grunts in a unit?'' He asked quietly, so as not to be overheard by the people he sensed in the room directly above him.
''Twenty. That boosts our attack to twenty-six. It'll be overkill, but that's something I can live with. Stay put. I'll contact you when we're ready to get things done.'' She cut the line and contacted Clan Master Och'lusch. 


They arrived in an armoured skybus that had been painted in urban camouflage some time ago. When it landed on the oustskirts of the plant's property, twenty Clan members piled quietly out of the rear, dark armour clinking softly, weapons raised. Spirit greeted Sub-Section Leader Honral and led them back to the skylight, where they were waiting, explaining to them her plan and what she needed done. They spread out around the skylight, Stalkers mingling with Sigmus Omega Grunts, crouched beside the aged frame, waiting for further instruction.
''So blow the skylight, drop down, slaughter everyone but the little twitchy guy?'' Honral asked bluntly.
''That's the plan. As I said, I already have a man down there, so don't freak out if you see something weird.'' She said, looking around, addressing the Grunts as one.
Honral tilted his head slightly, went quiet for a few seconds then shrugged. ''Well, let's get these charges placed.'' He said.

Five Grunts produced a small, metal conical device each. The Grunts at each corner of the skylight secured their charges against the top corners of the frame, whilst another, the smallest member of the Clan unit, scurried carefully across the glass and up to the peak of the skylight, placing his own charge in the middle of the frame's spine. He slid back down the grubby, cracked glass, Yukta chains making little scratching noise as he went. When he landed, he dove forward. The others ducked back several feet, pulling little silver balls that sat snugly in their palms from their belt pouches. Honral squatted, ready to dash forward, one hand raised, fingers folding down, one by one. With the curling of his little finger, the little shaped charges detonated, spraying glass and twisted bands of metal in all directions. As one, the Stalkers and Grunts lept forward, towards the hole and the sound of alarms and shouting, tossing the little silver metal balls into the gaping wound in the concrete before them. There was a flash brighter than the sun swiftly followed by screaming and swearing. Spirit and Honral dropped into the sublevel meat processing plant side by side a second later, landing heavily on the metal balcony below, their teams following closely behind. The men that had been patrolling on the upper levels were rubbing their eyes furiously. The ones on the balcony they'd landed on were rolling about on the floor, clutching at their faces, tears streaming from scorched eyes. Oz darted past her in a flash, knife out and took one of the crying guard's throat out with a neat slash and twist. He bounced over the rusting safety rail, landed heavily and rolled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his ankles as he opened fire on two of the armoured men before him who were guarding the Needles. From a dark doorway behind him and the doorway in the far corner of the main packing room, Ovrach's men poured into the area, most of them heavily armoured and bristling with weapons, all reacting in confusion to the sudden explosion and gunfire. From above, it started raining Stalkers and Clan Grunts. Oz looked up and shot out the four emergency lights bolted to the underside of the hanging balcony. The shadows closed in around them, the lack of sunlight aiding them as Ovrach's men started to scream, firing into the shadows. Punching one of Ovrach's men to the ground, Spirit commed Chester as she shot the face of the guard's helmet in, the bullets and split metal tearing through the man's face, ripping his skull to pieces.
''Chaz, find Ovrach and drag his scrawny arse back here [i]now[/i]!'' She shouted down the comm, trying to be heard over the din of gunfire and shouting.

She spun around, Yukta flailing out and slicing at another guard's knees. The man yelped, thin lines of red appearing just above his kneecaps between his leg armour. She kicked out, cracking him in the left knee and sent him down, sprawling onto the concrete floor. He rolled as she stamped a boot down towards his groin, coming up at her side and lashing out with a long blade. The side of her helmet took the brunt of the attack, her head snapping sideways, a deep gouge in the metal. She spun away, pulled her blaster from its holster with her free hand and shot another man coming at her from her other side. Red exploded from his unprotected neck as he kicked backwards, landing heavily and sprawling.
''I can't find him,'' Chester's voice sounded in her ear.
''You better find him!'' She snarled back, dodging another swipe of the blade.
The man was limping badly, but he was doing a good job of staying close to her, pressing his attack, giving her little room to shoot. He kicked out in an attempt to trip her and she flipped back, raising her blaster and rifle, blindly firing at him as she landed. One of her shots cracked over his head harmlessly, the other slammed into his shoulder, denting his thick armour and forcing him to take a stumbling step back. She growled, sucked in a breath and dove at him, shoulder first, driving him to the ground, slamming the butt of her rifle into his chin with enough force to crack his breather and loosen the stock. As his head snapped back from the impact, she pressed her blaster against the soft armourweave of his neck and pulled the trigger, spreading his head across the floor in a gout of blood, bone, brain matter and armour fragments. Someone shouted behind her and she hunkered down, pressing herself snugly against the corpse of the guard she'd just killed, eyes squeezed shut. Her eye lids lit up and there was more screaming from Ovrach's men, but the cursing was more fervent this time. Someone was cackling; a Clan Grunt. Sub-Section Leader Honral shouted something and she sprung to her feet, contacting her own team for a swift head count. Everyone reported back, albeit breathlessly. They were still alive, as were Honral's Grunts and locked in combat.
''Twenty-six down, Captain. Twenty-nine more to go.'' Honral commed, his voice excited.
''Good,'' She replied, shooting down another of Ovrach's men with a snarl, ''this shouldn't take too much longer at this rate.''
She spun around again, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling, and ducked. Derron launched himself through the air, blade in hand and smashed into one of Ovrach's men, punching him the ground before sliding the serrated blade beneath the man's torso armour and into flesh, twisting and jerking the blade back before moving on. Spirit put a couple of bullets into the gurgling man's neck, silencing him and halting his pained writhing.
''Captain, Ovrach's left the plant. I'm going after him.'' Chester commed.
She unleashed a tirade of curses over the team's channel.
''When you catch the little shit, bring him back to me so I can slap him around myself, the little bastard.''
''Aye, Captain. I'll keep you posted.'' Chester signed off with a chuckle and she re-entred the fray, shooting and cutting her way through Ovrach's men. She'd have the bodies of his precious guards piled high so he could see just how big a pit he'd dug himself into.


Chester padded quietly along the brightly lit narrow corridor, the only sounds giving his presence away being the gentle clinking of his Yukta. He had his assault rifle held ready to shoot anyone who dared stray across his path; apparently standard behaviour for a Sigmus Omega Clan member, which suited him just fine. According to his map, this corridor led out of the plant's premises and into the maze of sublevel pathways, alleys, corridors and roads that stretched out beneath the megalopolis like a giant, overly complicated industrial rat run. When he thought about it, he supposed that was the best descrption for this place; a rat run. He came to a wide crossroads at the end of the corridor, faded and rusted signs pointing in all directions, their lettering too faded and scratched up to be legible. He stopped at the meat processing plant's threshold, tilted his head and listened. A million heartbeats raged in his ears like white noise, burning his mind like the sun. He gritted his teeth, concentrated on filtering them all out, listening for that one little unique pulse he'd heard not long before. It seemed like a lifetime had passed before he located it, shutting out all others; a stuttering, fast paced rythm, three hearts working in tandem. He could hear Ovrach's fear, his desire to get away. It tugged at his inner predator, practically begging for the vampire to take up the chase, hunt him down and kill him. Chester shuddered, forcing his mind back on track, forcing the lid back down on his instincts. Choosing a direction, he plunged down the western alley, leaving the plant behind, alternating between eye-watering speed as he ran and shadow-hopping where the shadows were thickest. Ovrach had had quite the head start on him, but as far as Chester knew, no one had ever managed to outrun a vampire, particularly one intent on capturing his prey. Eventually, he had to stop. His boots kicked up dust, dirt and rust as he skidded to a halt at a dead end. The wall before him was lined with thick pipes, clustered together in thick bands. Some were leaking steam and another a foul smelling grey liquid that dripped thickly to the ground. He took a step back, looked around, examining the space. Ovrach had definately come through here, he knew. The man's stench was everywhere, so pungent he could smell it through his breather. The only doors he could see had been sealed shut. Some had been welded, others had been riveted. He listened. There was nothing behind those doors, save for vermin. He looked at the worn stone he was stood on, searching for a trapdoor or a manhole cover, something that Ovrach could have disappeared down. There was nothing, except for moss and weeds growing in the cracks in the blackened stone. He knew Ovrach had come this way. He could still hear the man fleeing for his life, getting further and further away. Poking around, he finally saw a pattern in the wall to his right. He traced the random pits and blemishes in the wall upward, past the clustered pipes and up to the roof of the alley. He ground his teeth and had the sudden urge to punch himself in the face for being such an idiot and missing something so obvious. There was a hatch above his head, big enough for a man in full armour to wriggle through. He lept at the wall, kicked off it and smashed his way through the trapdoor and into the level above, into an alley crammed with rubbish and lined with the closed shutters of night-shops. In the distance, he heard the wail of a street cleaner drone coming his way. Dropping the dented trapdoor hatch back into place, he relocated Ovrach and set off after him. This time, he hadn't snuck down anymore side-streets or into anymore cubby-holes or trapdoors. Instead, he was making a beeline for the surface. Chester pushed himself to his limits, closing the gap between himself and his quarry with unbelievable speed. 

''I'm coming for you little man.'' He growled, chuckling deep in his throat.
He skidded to slow his pace as he came up to a sharp corner, leapt and bounced off the wall with one foot and took off down the alley again. Except this time he could see Ovrach ahead, his pace slowing from a panicked sprint to a determined jog. His fangs descended as he saw the wiry man in his cheap armour. He had no helmet on, nor goggles, just a low-grade breather mask strapped tightly around his bald, dark skinned head. Chester slowed his pace even more, keeping far enough back so that Ovrach wouldn't notice him. Oh, how easy it would be to take the man down, hold his head to one side and drain him of every last drop of blood he had in his tiny body.
''Chester, where the hell is Ovrach?'' Spirit growled in his ear, dragging him away from his mounting blood lust.
''I see him,'' He purred softly, crouching behind a dumpster. Ovrach had stopped at the end of the alley and was looking around. Before him lay the exit to the surface, a set of fractured stairs, most of the blue ceramic tiles missing from the walls. ''I'll have him back to you in five.''
''Make sure he's still coherent and not too damaged. I still wanna smack him around.''
''Will do.''
''Oh, and Chester?''
''Yes Captain?'' He whispered as he crept closer.
''He is [i]not[/i] a snack.'' She said sternly.
''Wouldn't dream of it.'' He lied quietly before pouncing, taking Ovrach by surprise.
Ovrach squealed, staggered and thrashed, his elbow coming up and cracking Chester under his jaw, snapping his teeth together. A hand darted to his hip, pulling a small, thin blade free, plunging it into Chester's side. The doberman growled as Ovrach pulled the blade free, the doberman's armourweave sealing up after it, pressing against the wound to protect the flesh from further tearing. Chester flipped him over, grabbing his wrist and twisted hard, grinning at the sound of bones cracking. Ovrach grunted, grinding his teeth together, the knife clattering to the floor. He broke Ovrach's other wrist, then kicked his knees in, crippling him. Ovrach let out a howl and collapsed, lying prone on his back, tears streaming down his dirty, scabbed face as pain fired through his body. Chester, meanwhile, calmly stooped and picked up the blade. His blood was sticking to it, dark and rich and deeply inviting. He opened a pouch on his belt an deposited the knife within, smearing away the droplets of his tainted blood on the ground with his boot. Looking down at Ovrach he tutted and shook his head. Now that he could have a proper look at the man, he decided that he didn't want to sink his teeth into him after all. 
''I should kill you right here for what you've done over the last year. But I can't, because I'm under orders to take you alive.'' He said tiredly, rubbing at his side, silently urging his wound to heal quicker. He hadn't fed properly in seven months and his body was reminding him in subtle ways.
He walked around Ovrach who was still paralysed with pain, grabbed his collar and dragged him back to the plant.

By the time Chester had got Ovrach back to the plant's perimetre, he'd regained some of his senses. The pain of four broken limbs had abated to a deep throb that only flared up if Chester dragged him over an uneven surface, of which there was an abundance. Once he'd regained enough of his composure to talk, he'd started off with hurling insults at the vampire, most of which seemed to go ignored. Or so he thought, until he'd been tossed back down the trapdoor head first into the level below, with Chester landing over him, his boots slamming the ground to either side of his head. Ovrach couldn't see his face, but he was pretty sure that, through all the lights dancing before his eyes, his captor was grinning at him behind his face plate. He had managed to get his breather mask down onto his chin and had spat at him, which had earned him a few broken ribs. He'd also been dragged the rest of the way back to the plant by his left ankle which had turned his entire leg into a white hot lance of fire. Even the chill air of the plant's main floor where the Needles were stored didn't help cool his pain. He sighed in utter relief when Chester dropped his leg and wandered off to stand with the other Clan Grunts. Ovrach took a few steadying deep breaths before twisting around painfully to look over at them, squinting through watery eyes into the murk, choking a little on the acrid taste of the air. He swore bitterly. His entire guard and handling crew were piled up off to one side like an obscene bonfire ready to be lit.
''Fucking Clansters,'' he spat acidly, ''always spoiling the little guys' fun. Why can't you just leave us the fuck alone to let us make some money, eh?! You money grubbing faggot fuckers!'' He spat again.
Sub-Section Leader Honral tilted his head.
''You have worse manners than me.'' He said simply.
''Fuck off cunt fungus!''
Spirit walked forward, approaching Ovrach calmly. She crouched down before him, her helm's face dominating his line of sight. She stared at him for several minutes, silently scrutinizing him all the while he threw insult after insult at her. Everyone on the main floor stopped what they were doing to watch her. 
''What th' fuck do you want? You mental or what?'' He hissed and spat at her.
She didn't react. 
''Where did you get these missiles from and what were you going to use them for?'' She asked, her voice a low purr.
Ovrach started to squirm.
He didn't reply, keeping stubbornly quiet.
After fifteen agonising minutes of scrutiny, she stood up and took a step back. She looked him over again, slung her rifle and swung her fist down at him. There was the crack of bone breaking and Ovrach's breather mask came loose. A few teeth scattered bloodily across the floor, the force of the blow slamming him backwards, sending him sliding a few feet away. He lay silent and unconscious, sprawled on the worn alloyconcrete ground.
''Lenny, Chester, prepare him for transport. Oz, Kieron, you two prep the Needles. Derron, is the transport on its way?''
The armoured cat nodded, ''ETA five minutes for the KR43s and the Sickle'll be coming in under cloaking in ten. They'll be using the skylight as docking.''
Spirit nodded and turned to Honral. 
''What're we going to do about the corpses?''
''Leave them to us. We'll call in some vans once your lorries have left and dump them in the river. By morning, there'll be nothing left of them.'' Honral replied.


As promised, five minutes later two sleek red and silver lorries reversed through the raised loading bay doors to the rear of the main floor, stopping just shy of the patch of gloomy light that highlighted the Needles. Spirit eyed them up curiously, taking in the bright livery and the logos stamped on the sides.
''They're a bit conspicuous, aren't they?''
''Actually, no.'' Honral said, ''They may be brand new, top of the range road freighters, but they're executive. A favour was called in to get these. There's little to no chance that a big company's hauliers will be pulled over and inspected, so it's safer to transport the Needles under the guise of a Winthrope Health Service delivery than in the vehicles we use.''
The backs of the trailers rolled up and eight men wearing red and silver overalls with matching full-face breathers hopped down and started loading the KR43 Needles into the trailers  under the guidance of Oz and Kieron. Each trailer had two large metal and leather padded harnesses bolted to the roof. She watched the missiles get loaded into the trailers with swift precision, each one being tightly strapped into its harness. The harnesses, in turn, were tethered tightly to the floors of the trailers so as to minimise movement. Oz climbed into the back of one trailer with four of the men and Kieron clambered into the other with the remaining four. The backs of the trailers were sealed up once more, the engines of the lorries roared to life and they rumbled back up the ramp and out into the bleak day, the loading bay doors sliding back down after them. A few minutes after the lorries had left, the thunder of a shuttle's engines vibrated throughout the old plant. The light disappeared from the skylight plunging the main floor into darkness. The engines quietened, leaving a ringing in everyone's ears and a line of bright blueish light appeared bove their heads, growing wider with a low whirr until the innards of the Sickle's main compartment could be seen. Several black and grey armoured figures looked down at the assembled Sigmus Omega Grunts, heavy rifles held idly. Spirit peered up into the bright interior.
''How d'you want to do this?'' She shouted up to the Knights assembled inside the shuttle.
''We'll chuck a rope down. Tie him to that and we'll haul the bastard up and strap him to the bulkhead.''
Spirit peered up at the Knight who had spoken.
''Ah, Master Sergeant Paxton. Good to see you up and about again.'' She said, gesturing for Lenny and Chester to take Ovrach up to the balcony.
''A small mishap with a plasma cannon isn't gonna stop me from doing my duties, Captain.''
One of Paxton's men threw down a coil of thick black rope. The two Stalkers set about wrapping it around Ovrach, looping it once around his torso and using the remaining tail to bind his hands.
''He's all yours, Master Sergeant.'' Lenny said, tugging on the rope.
Ovrach was just regaining consciousness as the Knights started hauling him upward. He looked down as his feet left the mesh of the balcony, then squinted through it to see Spirit and Honral stood side-by-side waving at him.
''If you manage to survive and make it back to this part of space, I'll kill you!'' Honral shouted pleasantly as Ovrach disappeared, shouting and cursing into the shuttle.
The doors of the shuttle sealed up. Lenny and Chester ran from the balcony as the engines fired up and it took off, kicking sickly coloured snow, dirt and pieces of glass and metal frame into the hole above their heads.

''Our ride's here, Captain.'' Derron said.
They could just hear the spluttering of the van from where they stood once the shuttle's roar had faded.
''Sub-Section Leader Honral, I thank you for you and your Clan's help in this. Sorry if we threw your daily routine out of whack.''
Honral shrugged.
''We do raids like these more often than you think.'' He said, ''Any chance that you lot'll be heading in this direction again?''
''I doubt it. Seven months of cryosleep during a voidrun isn't my idea of fun.'' She replied.
They clasped hands and set about sorting their teams out.
''Oh, Captain Swiftpaw?'' Honral called after her once he'd set his team about sorting the pile of corpses out, ''What's it like in your arm of the galaxy?''
''Eh, from what I've seen, it's not much different than here, except for the species. Why, you planning on visiting?''
''Maybe.'' He replied thoughtfully.
Derron trotted up to Spirit, ''Captain, we've got problems. We've got to go back to our Arm sooner than expected. Admiral Dakarr's just contacted Captain H'rathrid. There's been an incident at the Temple of Three Moons. Tristan's done something and we're to go in earlier than planned.''
Spirit ground her teeth in frustration and cursed.
''What did he do?'' She asked as they made their way back to the surface.
''I don't know, Captain. The Admiral didn't say. He just said that we'll get the intel when we drop back into normal space.''
''Shit. What about Shadow's half of the team? Hear anything about them?''
Derron shook his head. She swore again. 
''I'm gonna tear that dinosaur's damned head off.'' She snarled as she stamped through the snow and towards the van.

It was the same van, same driver and the same Sub-Section Leader who greeted her last time.
''I hear it went well.'' He said as the Stalkers piled into the van.
''It would've gone even better if we didn't have to rush back to our ship.'' She sighed, ''I forgot to ask Honral what we should do with the armour we borrowed.''
The Sub-Section Leader held up his hand.
''Calm down. We'll get you back to your ship within minutes. One of our short-cuts has just reopened. As for your armour, leave the gunswith me. The rest; the helm, the Yukta, the pouches, the knives, keep them. Looking different might help you stay as inconspicuous as possible during your coming battle.''
Spirit eyed him suspiciously.
''What do you know?'' She asked flatly.
He hammered on the cab wall and the van grunted, lurching forward, listing as it turned around.
''Nothing. But I'm an old soldier who's seen plenty of combat both in the military and on the streets. I don't need to see your mission reports and tactics briefings, nor do I need to see your face to know that something bad's going down where you come from. Your body language speaks volumes on its own.''
Spirit settled on her heels as they bounced up a slip road to join a motorway. She looked around at her team who were all crouched in the back of the van, huddled together for support against the rocking and bouncing vehicle. The minutes passed in silence and they piled silently out of the van when it slid to a halt at the curb outside the old subway station where it'd picked them up earlier. She looked up at the cloudy sky. It was getting dark, the thick cloud cover smothering what was left of the daylight. She looked back at the Sub-Section Leader who was still crouched in the back of the van, the rifles now clipped into a thin rack that ran along the wall behind him.
''Thanks for your help.''
He nodded and slid the door closed. They watched the van take off down the street in a pall of exhaust and slush, tires spinning wildly for traction.
''I wonder what his name is...'' Kieron mused.
''I wonder where his Section is. The guy had no Grunts with him. Not even when he picked us up. It was just him and the driver.'' Oz said as they made their way back to the space port.
''Who knows. It doesn't concern us. We've done what we came to do. Now we go home, get paid, get laid and get into even more trouble.'' Spirit said.
''If only life was that easy...'' Derron sighed.


The Darven was sat where they'd left it, the main ramp still down, a few dock workers hovering about, checking things off on clipboards and poking about in the cargo hold. The Stalkers huddled in the shadows, waiting for Sergeant V'aldini to shoo away the remaining dock workers so they could board the ship unnoticed. They fidgeted in the narrow corridor for a few minutes longer, Chester crouched down, peering around the corner, waiting for the vague hand signal that told them they could board without being seen. When the workers finally scuttled away, V'aldini turned around, and smoothed some stray hair down. Chester studied the Jes'wan's fingers then nudged Spirit lightly. V'aldini disappeared up the main ramp of the sleek ship, the sound of it winding back up into position masking the sound of the small side hatch that opened up to admit the Stalkers entry. They darted back into the ship, piling into the room that was stashed within the bowels of the vessel and collapsed onto the long padded bench that ran half the length of the room.
''All hands prepare for launch.'' Captain H'rathrid's voice announced over the in-ship comm.
They held on, the ship lurching as it lifted from the surface, making for orbit and eventually open space. With a single violent shudder, they broke through the atmosphere. There was a slight shift in the artificial gravity and everyone got up and started removing their armour, piling it neatly on the bench.
''You think this new look will really come in handy?'' Lenny asked, untangling his tail from his Yukta chains with a grunt.
''If Tristan or his followers don't know who's inside the armour, then yes.'' Spirit replied.
''Then we best keep it quiet.'' The lion said.
''I hope someone's got some spare standard issue armour lying about, otherwise it won't stay secret for long.'' Kieron noted, finally realising that you couldn't fold a belt covered in dangling chains and spikes.
''The KR43 Needles have been loaded safely aboard the Reaper,'' Captain H'rathrid announced, stepping through the doors and making everyone jump. ''you also have one day, Standard to make the most of your remaining time out of the cryopods.''
There were grumbles all around and he smiled warmly.
''How soon until we find out what's happening in our Arm?'' Spirit asked, tugging her boots off.

''Seven months I'm afraid. What information we recieve now will be out of date by the time we get back to populated space. You'll just have to trust your friends to look after things in your absence.'' He replied. He looked at the piles of armour thoughtfully, ''I hear Clan Master Och'lusch allowed you to keep his armour pieces and blades.'' He noted.
''A Sub-Section Leader told us we could. I'm not entirely sure if Och'lusch knows about his generosity. Yet.''
H'rathrid looked vacant for a moment, his eyes glazed as he thought about something.
''This Sub-Section Leader... You didn't notice anything different about him...?''
''Like what?'' Chester asked curiously.
''Like, ooohh, I dunno... The colour of the sash he wore around his waist and the way it was tied compared to the way Honral wore his? Or the lack of anything significant about him...?''
They went silent, thinking about the question. Spirit scratched her head, frowning. The sash Honral had wore was red and tatty, something that had been through hell and back along with its wearer. Honral also had a team of nineteen Grunts with him. The Sub-Section Leader in the van wore a pristine brown sash, tied neatly and with care. He didn't have any Grunts with him, only a van driver who seemed to studiously ignore practically everything around him. She sighed and slumped down.
''Oh shit, you're not telling me that that Sub-Section Leader in the van was Clan Master Och'lusch?''
H'rathrid's smile widened into a grin.
''Just because he runs a criminal organisation, doesn't mean he sits on his hands like most mob bosses you've come across. He's an old soldier and he likes to keep his empire in check by playing an active role alongside his surbodinates. It's one of the things that keeps them loyal to him. And if he willingly parted with some of his gear, it means he's taken quite a shine to you.'' He paused and seemed to be listening to a voice the others couldn't hear. ''Hm. Seems I have traffic control to argue with, so I will leave you to it and send doctor L'ctur down when it comes time to re-enter the cryopods.'' He sketched a quick salute, turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving them to their own musings.
''Sooo...'' Chester said, sitting down next to Spirit, ''Sub-Section Leader Whatsisface turned out to be the boss. Who'd have thought?''
Spirit rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands.