"Typical Dalton Auto and Aeromotives customer!" Sammy interjected with a nervous laugh, "I always find the perfect one for each customer. No bad sellers allowed on my lots, under threat of deadly force!"
There was a sort of twitch to his face as he restrained himself from whipping out a business card to present to Archival or Rennik. His plaid business suit seemed to sigh with relief. This was the point when Jake made sniffing noise and started looking around with darting eyes. His bullet-tusks were immediately spat on the ground.
"I smell INJUSTICE!" The crazed elder Foster shouted, "Somewhere... THAT WAY!"
Without any sort of explanation, he mounted his side-car bike and sped off into the city. Alex emerged jogged behind him from the prison gate for a moment before giving up and making his back to the group.
"Damnit, I wanted to restrain him." Alex explained. He finally tore the wrapping off of the empty pack of cigarettes and pulled one to his lips. After a few drags, he acknowledged Sammy. "Samuel Dalton. There are two unconscious members of my team next to the ruined truck at the gate. A concussion grenade seems to have struck Dimitri Rogues and that IPG operative who were riding with us. It seems ironic that they fell in combat together for a disagreeable that they seemed to be. Have your men load them in a truck and take them to the infirmary."
Sammy nodded to Alex and walked off. Alex, meanwhile turned back to the other three who were left behind.
"Return to the submarine at your leisure, so long as it's before dark. I've learned some things about our foes that suggest we shouldn't be out at night if we can help it."
-----
And so, as disasters often do, the grounds at the prison were cleared up and normalcy returned. Slowly, the officers organized themselves and split up. Some were headed to the sub with the resistance. Others were headed home. A select few were headed to other police stations in safer areas. As the last truck moved away, a shadow fell over the prison walls.
A bulking ID-Sol was tearing at the asphalt with a shovel. Within just a few minutes, his frantic shoveling gave way to a tearing from beneath by the Neko covered in rubble. Her arm had almost fully regenerated.
"Mister Brown, you've failed again." She grunted, digging herself out of the rubble, "And worse, you didn't even retrieve the one thing I asked you for! It's like working with children, you and your clones."
Brown grimaced, but kept his tongue civil. "Fraunkeun didn't tell us to capture any of them, Nakai. He said to kill them. I told you it would be stupid."
"I don't care what Fraunkeun has to say about it, Brown." She snapped, "I want that old man and the little girl!"
"So what? I want the tall chick, but I'll kill her and the big guy if I have to." Came the calm reply.
"Well, Mister Brown, I think I know how we can both get what we want and please Fraunkeun at the same time." The Neko's tail flicked in the moonlight. "When we make our next move, they'll come like they did before..."
"...And this time I might just face them head on."
-----
On the submarine, things were being frantically prepared for the coming voyage over the course of the night. Below decks, in the communication room, Alex had finally managed to get back to Lang after the day's events. He wore a face of bored contemplation as he sat down in a chair near Lang and spun around in it twice.
"Colonel." He said, still looking at the cieling, "I have gone over your men's actions over the course of the day. I would like to speak to you regarding them."
Lang was seated facing a panel covered in oldschool solid displays, several were showing tactical information for the activities topside. However one, one had the bank information for an account at the Bank of Nepleslia, all the numbers read with a simple '0'.
"They're not my men anymore Mr. Alex, at least not most of them." Said the older man, shifting a cigar slightly.
"Interesting." Alex replied. He stuck a prying finger under his eyepatch and switched a bloody cottonball from his implant socket for a new one. "Tell me about this."
Lang merely smirked, "Lets just say theres a reason you should never trust those who handle your money, thought either way its being taken care of." He tapped a small datapad on the console. "But overall it seems I'm no longer employed by a large private military entity. One which seems to have cease to exist."
"I see." Alex nodded. "Well, to be entirely honest, I was less than fond of Paragon's efforts today. There's not much civilian support for a revolutionary effort that destroys the homes of its citizens. What can I expect from you at this point?"
"A moment Mr. Alex, patience is rewarded after all." The Colonel's finger tapped the datapad again.
Alex slid forward in the chair. Almost simultaneously the sound of the ballast tanks emptying filled the decks and the sub shifted, heading for the depths. Alex lit a cigarette and put the lighter down next to Lang's workstation before continuing. "Patience is one of my stronger aspects, Colonel Lang. However, I feel the need to mention that I'm running an organized resistance, a job which requires hasty planning at every turn."
The datapad suddenly pinged, the screen flashing with an incoming call. Lang tapped the screen twice, opening the channel on speaker.
The voice on the other end carried a slight gruff accent, "Sir, its done."
In the background there was another man mubbling and plead something about 'it was his idea' before the loud sound of a fist smashing into flesh reverberated through the line.
Lang's face relaxed slightly, "And the funds?"
"They should appear any moment Sir." The voice responded.
In the background the other voice spoke up, "I ddddid what you wanted, you'll let me go.. right?" It was pleading.
Almost shamelessly interupting the voice on the other end, Alex leaned in over Lang's shoulder and said firmly to the soldier on the other side, "If you and your Colonel will continue working for us, your first duty will be to kill that man without hesitation." Alex didn't look at Lang for his permission to give this order. Instead, he ashed his cigarette onto the table with little ceremony.
"Sir?" The voice questioned.
"You heard the man Sergeant, finished the job." Lang said, not hiding any malice in his voice.
"Yes Sir," Was the only response for the distinct sound of a pistol being cocked came over the line, followed quickly by a pleading man dying to two loud shots.
A moment later the line went dead.
On the screen the display changed, a flashing message across the top announcing 'INCOMING FUNDS' before the account began swelling with digital Davis Alliance notes. It took only moments for the account to top off at 4.3 billion.
"How many are still loyal to you?" Alex asked, returning to his seat.
"Two hundred, maybe three hundred, give or take." Said Lang, turning his seat to face Alex.
"I see." Alex mused, "I will assume that these few are the more easily reigned in of the bunch. With that in mind, I shall only request three-quarters of a discount for the services from the original price. It is far more per unit than the original price."
"Your.. donation should be refunded completely here in a few moments, although instead of finding it's way back into certain questionable individual's pockets it'll be in an account in your name Mr. Alex." Lang responded, "Do be sure it finds it's way to a good use."
"Actually, due to his new position aboard this submarine, Samuel Dalton has been elected treasurer due to his previous business experience. Lyle Clemente's paltry addition can fuel the submarine for the next few weeks." quoth Alex, informative tone as he stood from his chair. Then, with just as much boredom in his voice, Alex layed his final advice out to Lang from the doorway.
"Colonel Lang, if you wish to work pro-bono, you will recieve no complaints from me. This being said, you should know that I expect a smaller group of superior men to have a more firm command and a greater respect for the homes and businesses of our people."
"Let us hope so Mr. Alex." Lang said, coming to his feet. "Let us hope so."