A few of the null-fleet deckhands were nervously side-eyeing each-other as the yelling started up, partially drowned out by the pained screams of Kyet as that hand continued to steadily clamp down on her arm harder and harder.
Though Yinri's brandished weapon, Arynn's struggling and Kil'nda's pleading was cause enough for a few security personnel to spring into action, bringing the conical barrels of their stubby shotguns level with the operators. This was the security team's job, the justification for their presence on this most secret of secretive endeavours - but things didn't usually go this far off the rails...
A moment tense moment passed, one that lingered uncomfortably long, before the
leering admiral broke the chaos with their ever-menacing presence.
"
Enough," was all it took for the towering, seemingly mutated, monster of a Daur to release his grip from around Kyet's grip and silently fade back behind the dividing curtain like the good lapdog he seemed to be. Kyet's eyelashes fluttered with relief as she stumbled back into Arynn and Kil'nda in all her pillowy glory, knocking the small fox over and nearly taking the sniper with them as she fell into unconciousness. The damage had been done, her forearm was a crooked mess of red marks and bruises beginning to form, their knowledge of combat medicine told the team there were more than a few breaks~
The security team took this chaos as an opportunity to move in and restrain the Division 5 Operators, delivering a heavy fist across Yinri's jaw as the pipe was ripped from the small cyborg's grasp, the mass of black-clad bodies moving to strap cuffs onto each of the operators.
"Take them to the brig,
debrief them and send them on their way, here I thought we could maybe resolve things in a civil manner..." were the last words they'd hear the admiral's haunting voice utter as the team was
forced to retrace their steps back down that long,
long corridor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~~~~~~
As promised, the team would find themselves picked up a few days later, but anything after having the specifics of their cover-story crammed down their throats was a blurry mess of needles, strobing lights and sequences of ear-curling beeps. While they each had a script to stick to it was hard to not let their minds ponder on what the fuck they'd gotten in the middle of. While those few questions they'd been permitted were answered so much more was left unknown and buried beneath a sea of non-answers and vagueness. The worst part wasn't even that their arguably questionable story was believed, it was that they now felt eyes staring at them from every shadow, every seam in the pavement hid a sea of daggers and every corner was listening to their thoughts.
But at this point, who would believe them?