RP: Taking It Back [Phase II-A] Arming the Pack

Alex nodded along with the rotors spinning on the arm along with thoughts of twisting open a cap. His head went to the right quickly then slowly to the left. The harsh light behind his head shone past him and blurred his figure. There was no sound, just as he'd asked, save for the delicate clicks of the exposed servos in the arm and the soft sopping noises of the mop against the tile.

"That is correct Alexis. Now, we will increase the challenge level of the question," Alex continued. His implant was focused so heavily on her implant, it seemed as if the machines were in communion gossiping about their respective owners. "When you write your name on a government form, how do you spell it? Imagine you're doing that and spell it one letter at a time while you make believe that you can write it here."

There was something tugging in the back of his head about this question. This was part of the normal questions, and in fact one of the more important calibrations. Yet, for some reason, he was very anxious to hear the answer. Anxiety was an uncommon emotion for the eternally bored Alex. His sight briefly filled with a few pictures of Alexis from earlier, his implant flashed notes to him he didn't want to read. There was a good deal of pain in his temple.

"Ugh." Alex let out a short grunt as a tiny sliver of blood escaped from the edge of his implant. The doctor caught sight of this and pulled Alex out of the chair and across with the help of one the orderlies. There was a soft murmur near the disabled man, and then the Doctor returned and took Alex's place.

"No need to worry, dear." The doctor reassured her, "Foster's just a bit tired. I'll take care of you. Let's continue: Imagine you're writing your name on a form, spell it out."

Chrys looked at cuffs holding her hands together. She tried them a little and smiled. She knew she could snap them It would hurt, she would rip her skin, but she could just pull her hands from each other and be free should it be neede. "Okay let's get this charade running." She said to Lucas.

Archie meanwhile had disappeared towards his designated position, dressed in his full camo gear, rifle in its case. He was wearing a strange looking helmet with a wide brim with a circle of rather threatening looking teeth of different shapes and sizes around the band.

"You know, white and grey would have been better colors" Rennik snorted as he passed up Archie, heading in the opposite direction.
"Also, our spots are this way"

He moved through the silent back ally's and side streets to the designated building, a old department store that Rennik knew very well, having many times used it's location. He strode up to the back door of the building, went past it, and began to climb the ladder of the fire escape. He was very quick up the ladder, knowing it's missing rungs and broken handles by heart.
He reached the topmost landing of the fire escape, one level below the roof, and he crawled through the long broken window onto the floor. It was a scene out of apocalypse movie; old close racks, fallen ceiling debris, empty and full boxes and crates, burnt out desks, computers with the screens heavily damaged. He moved cautiously and carefully through the rubble, squaring himself up with the far window overlooking the street and Police Station.
He located his favorite spot for this location; sturdy and still standing desk a good 20 feet back from the window, ensuring he would remain in shadow. Quietly and carefully he unslung his rifle and began to setup...

Chandler looked down at his hands. Unsurprisingly, it hadn't been the first time he was handcuffed and guarded. He knew of a few ways to get out of handcuffs; many were unpleasant and involved contorting himself in a painful way or dislocating his shoulder, which was also painful and inconvenient, especially in situations that required switfness and full motor control of both arms (i.e. most situations). But he was confident that if he had to, he could get out.

Patience would be key here, he couldn't rush anything; otherwise he would look overly suspicious. So he kept himself calm and quiet for most of the ride, hands secure, head down, trying to adopt the mentality of the average prison inmate. His teammates' banter filtered through deaf ears. He thought about the task ahead; what he would say and how he would say it. Maybe the inmates had a plan; maybe they didn't. He would have a plan either way, and he was sure it would work.

He turned to Lucas. "By your lead," he said, without pulling his eyes up from the ground.

[Medbay]

"That's it!" Alex shouted from his position across the room. He stood up and stumbled across the room, blood streaming from his implant. "That is who you were the entire time, and I did not even know!" He sputtered, blood dripping over caloused lips. The cybernetic sparked and fizzed in his face for a few seconds before a stream of smoke ejected from behind his eyelid. The temple he'd been seen scratching so often as of late had distinct burns on it.

The doctor wasted no time preparing a syringe whilst Alex raved, and by the end of his little speech, pumped the man full of tranquilizer. The ordelies carried the now limp Alex to a nearby bed, while the doctor returned to his seat.

"Like I said, he's just tired." The doctor reassured Ally while he prepared the final set of servos for calibration. He seemed to not notice her name's significance. Guess he was a Zen Arms man.

"This last little bit is going to be fun, a game." The doctor continued, "After that, we'll give you more adrenaline and a purely local anesthetic so you can test out your new arm while I see to Foster."

"When I say the word 'Airbike', imagine you're riding through the city. Imagine with me that you're on an airbike, and you're going around corners and dodging traffic effortlessly. Imagine yourself waving to your friends as you pass by them and leaning into all the sharp turns. Okay? ... Here we go... Airbike!"

Speaking strictly in third person, time passed, and stuff happened.

Alexis, as she grew gradually more cognizant of the world around her, did essentially as the doctor asked, playing along with his games like a good patient should, even if she might have thought some of them were more than a little silly and that his abundance of concern was sorely misplaced. After all, she was on drugs, but she wasn't exactly a child anymore. The world was a pretty tough place; all you had to do was look at the wreckage that had previously been a human arm. This is referred to, henceforth, as 'Reference A.'

The new one seemed to be working alright, though; as Alexis manuvered it, the servos whirred, clicked, and lit up like they were supposed to. It wasn't exactly the best replacement - there were more refined bits on the market - but it would certainly serve the purpose. Military-grade, synthetic flesh over steel alloy, no-frills low-maintenance; hell, it had a barcode and a serial number beneath the bicep.

But, it would work - no doubt there.

"You're such a fool sometimes, Foster." The doctor had left Ally to her arm and was examining the shorted out implant and the steaming hole in Alex's face. Alex's glare drilled into him from the remaining eye.

"What seems to be the problem Doctor, that you would insult my intelligence, my only strong point?" Alex asked with a hint of bitterness from the table below.

"Your amateur-hour modifications, they've finally won." The doctor sneered back, peeling away burnt skin to reveal the charred circuit panel underneath. "All that stuff you did to the interface? What did you say, to 'increase productivity'? Yeah, well widening the neural interface allowed you to enact control over the eye with even the slightest of thoughts, even the most subconscious whims. Your thirst for useless knowledge overloaded the thing. It's a low-level implant Foster, not a second brain. There's a reason why no doctor would do that for you, you imbecile. Turn your head so I can get to it."

"You have the bedside manner of a wet sponge." Alex quoted the doctor's earlier insult in a sardonic mutter as he craned his neck for the doctor's hands. From his new position, he could see Ally and her arm.

"I am sorry about not completing the procedure." He said. There was still bitterness hidden under his polite words, "I see that the doctor was able to complete it in my stead. How do you feel about the new arm?"

Alexis was flexing.

It didn't feel like flexing - responses went back from the arm to her brain, traveling along the predetermined routes provided by the implants and there was every indication that she could feel through the tips of her new fingers, almost as good as she could previously. But when she touched the arm it was cold in places, warm in other places, and the only tactile response she could elicit from it was the feel of the synthetic skin beneath her good hand. She pinched it just to make sure, then ran the fingers of her good hand along the barcoded serial numbers.

It's like I'm wearing someone else's arm, Alexis thought to herself in the privacy of her own brain. Is this what it's supposed to feel like?

I hate this.

Alexis bit down a rising panic in the depths of her stomach. In fact, she was almost sick right there and then, posessed of the sudden impulse to pull the thing right out of its new socket and just deal with whatever came next. But, she didn't. She restrained herself and forced herself to accept it.

"It's fine," Alexis responded, intwining her fingers - the synethetic and the real - over the dip of the sheet created by her crossed legs. She looked back up at Alex, trying to muster all her charm into a single smile. "You don't have to apologize. You've probably saved my life."

That was about the extent of her courage; Alexis ducked her head suddenly, returning her attention to the prosthetic to hide her real feelings. Alex had shown her genuine concern, and Ally wasn't about to pay him back by seeming ungrateful. Her short hair was almost enough to veil her face from him, but the fine silvery strands only served to outline the severe blueness of her eyes and the glitter of tears there.

She started to idly tap her fingertips on her palm, all in order, then in reverse, as if she weren't at all affected. Just some kid trying out a new toy.

"Is there anything special I am supposed to do, like, you know, maintanance, or something?"

"I will teach you how to care for it later on tonight, when you can be moved to purely local anasthetics. For now, you should just use it for a short while and get some sleep." Alex said softly. He didn't seem to notice much how the doctor was prying shard of metal from his empty eye socket despite the blood that was also making its exodus from that area.

"You're going to need a new implant, Foster." The doctor didn't seem to notice anything but the exposed wound in front of him. "And probably something with a little more operating power this time, since you insist on fooling with it."

Alex ignored the doctor, acknowledging his wound only enough to wipe blood from his cheek before it snaked its way down to his mouth. Instead of replying to the doctor with some sort of bitter barb, Alex pressed Alexis for details on her name.

"So, you're Alexis Kimball-Styrling, then?" There was a sort of 'hmph' at the end of the question, "What did you think I was going to do with that information? Kidnap you? Beg for ransom money from your family? I wish you knew how much more useful to me you were than that, simply by your talent alone."

Alex started to shake his head with a confident smirk of sorts that became twisted into a painful grimace as he disrupted the doctor's prying fingers.

"Stop fiddling about, Foster, I'm almost done." The doctor lectured. He sure was good at minding his own business.

-----

[Prison Yard]

The Detective Chief Inspector and the young lieutenant emerged from the bunkhouse into the harsh light, followed by the stream of cadets from inside. Nearby, a few other officers were holding green canvas bags which had been thrown over the fence in the night by worried resistance members. The new officers spotted the Chief inspector and followed in line, removing several weapons from their duffels. The growing gang of law enforcement officials slowly approached a side of the yard that had been off-limits to them until now: the bunkhouse where the few criminals who'd been locked away before the NMX arrived were kept.

"Inspector" spoke up another Lieutenant who'd joined the gang, a man clearly in his forties with lots of gray stubble, dark hair and pale blue eyes. "Word is there's a plan to get le squids and us out, monsieur" he said in a tone that made it clear he wouldn't believe a word of any rumor until it was confirmed by higher authority.

"T'was always the plan, Cage. Surprised you even doubted for a moment." replied the inspector, adjusting one of his leather gloves as he approached the bunkhouse. "How did you think we'd be getting out?"

The younger lieutenant also replied to Cage, "Yeah, you didn't think we were gonna stay penned up in here, eh?"

"I must admit to some serious doubts that a plan was even in the works. I was merely confirming a rumor; Those of us who work the Lower Blocks don't get information as quickly, even in the same prison pen it seems" Cage sent back, an unmistakable undercurrent of resentment in the reply.

"That's what happens when you use two cups at the ends of a length of string. Now..." replied the inspector reaching into his jacket he pulled out a pistol and handed it to the younger lieutenant for him to take. "Take this and look hard for once in your life."

"That'll be quite a task, considering I'm in Traffic, chief." The lieutenant quipped, chambering a round.

"Not anymore you're not, see me in my office after we get out." replied the inspector as they were about to reach the doorway. In the final steps, guns were placed in everyone's hands, and one Cadet even recieved a rifle, which he trained on the unsuspecting ID-Sol standing in the tower high above the yard.

"You are going to want to aim a little lower, for the neck, there's a good boy. Their skulls are a bit thick; no guarantee that it will be a kill shot, at least with that rifle" Lt. Cage whispered to the cadet.

"I'm ready, sir." The cadet replied, his voice wavering only slightly. The Traffic Lieutenant near the door looked back at the pair before leaning in to the Chief Inspector and murmuring, "They're ready, Chief."

"Thank you, Traffic-Light, I do have eyes." replied the inspector gruffly, reaching for the door and throwing it open before strolling in like he owned the place.

" 'Choo want, then?" asked a particularly unclean looking man in a corner, alerting some other nearby prisoners to the presence of the police officers. The men were all tall and muscular, covered in head to toe tattoos of things like ravens and unicorns with bloodied horns and beaks. Most of them were ID-Sol, and all of them reeked of freebased, homemade Rage.

"Oi oi, lookit 'ere mates" said one of the ruffians, "Got us some of the coppers, yea? Cha-ha-ha" he guffawed, looking over his shoulder, getting some unpleasant laughs from the very tattooed men behind him. Then, from the group emerged a massive ID-Sol, with tattoos of both bloody-beaked ravens and bloody-horned unicorns and even the odd tattoo of a pleosaur eating cannabis all over his perfectly bald musculature. He took two massive step and looked down at the Chief Inspector, bloodshot eyes swelling in anger.

"I though we told you not to come in the building, meat." The ID-Sol said, his deep voice booming and reverberating through the loose panels of the floor.

-----

[Alleyway]

Lucas snapped the final pair of cuffs onto Chandler with a sigh. In the distance, the gunshots grew closer from the nearby Paragon fighting. With a heavy grunt Lucas pulled himself into the cab of the stolen buggy and started the ignition. This is the time when Archie and Rennik would be able to spot the ID-Sol in the guard tower grasping a bloody wound in his neck and shouting into his radio before being caught by another blast and plummeting into the yard.

Within seconds, a shrill siren filled the alleyway and the emptied streets for blocks. The echo of the siren faded off into the distance, reaching even the ears of a Paragon sniper scoping out a nearby outpost. Knowing the sound all-too-well, Lucas yanked the keys free of the buggy and slid back down to the would-be prisoners, hurriedly freeing them from their bonds one at a time.

"Time for Plan B!" He shouted while struggling with Dimitri's cuffs, "Let's blow down the gate and see what's going on! Everybody in the truck!"

"Thanks," Alexis said, glancing up somewhat sullenly to Alex, "I'm not tired, right now."

It was only a small lie.

So you're Alexis Kimball-Styrling, then?

"Uhn-huh," Alexis admitted, pushing some of her hair back and wiping at her eyes. He was staring at her. It made her uncomfortable, especially with his eye socket all bloody and the sound of the metal shards plinking into the tray beside the doctor. It was squeamish of her, of course, but it wasn't something she was used to seeing, and the casual way Alex took it was worse. He ought to flinch, or something.

"It's nice of you to say that, but I'm not all that useful to you. Like, like, I nearly just got myself killed. I can't drive, and I can't fight like, well you know. That muscle-woman. Now I'm wearing your money and I owe you my life. I don't even know if I can still shoot like I used to. And it was better you didn't know, anyway; my dad's a district attorney. He's got the cops on his side. My mom's like a genius. She's got a whole lot of money, and so does my uncle.

"It took me a real whole lot of effort to disappear and I still have to check in all the time. If you don't know who I am you can't fuck up and tell anyone, you know? Coz', all someone has to do is tell them where I am. I don't want them to know I'm out here."

Alexis pulled her legs up. She was still wearing the shift, and it didn't cover much, but the sheet she'd been given after the operation sufficed pretty well. After she had dried her eyes, she slumped down again, the sheet gathered into her arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm babbling again. Thanks a lot for everything. I really mean it. Please, please, please please don't tell anyone. Please?"

The bounty hunter waited to get his cuffs taken off, and once he did, he jumped into the truck, looking back at the rest of the crew that would be attended. Well, this wasn't part of the plan... Dimitri thought to himself. It sounded like they were going into a battlefield unarmed, screaming 'shoot me' as they got themselves involved. Hopefully these guys had weapons in the truck... otherwise he wasn't getting off until everyone else had.

"Glad to know plans around here work so well." He mentioned as he sat down inside it.

"Hmm." Alex had to think about his response for a moment. Of course he wouldn't tell anyone, but the arguments that Alexis had made seemed poor recompense.

"You do not seem to realize what all the talents were that I was referring to." Alex shifted in his position as the doctor stuffed a cottonball into his eyesocket for a moment, revealing a brilliant metal luster underneath the blood and char when it was removed. Alex twitched visibly as the doctor added a saline solution to the burns on the outside, but made no other reference to the pain.

"Alexis, there is something you possess, other than your namesake and prerequisite skills." Alex began, finally finding something around him to toy with, a pair of unused forceps next to the operating table. "You are sexually attractive, independently minded, and you posses the gal to approach a meeting full of people who are planning to murder their way to the top of this filthy, squid-infested hole called Nepleslia."

There was a pause, like he wanted the words to take their time going over to Alexis' ears.

"You have a very charming quality about your speech, and your mannerisms. In short, I see in you the potential to become a rousing character in the resistance. My job was not just to find a bunch of people who could get the job done. I had that already. My efforts were directed towards creating a group of 'poster-children'. This 'team' of individuals, is meant to inspire the masses to take up arms, as is the Nepleslian way, against their newest foe. They must drive them out of their homes and their streets. No one will be willing to do that for a cold-blooded cyclops and a beef-headed marine. We needed a dynamic team of charming, capable, individuals."

Seeing that he was giving another one of his signature lectures, Alex took a brief moment to light a cigarette and offer one to Alexis in spite of the doctor's protests. Once he was all sorted, Alex continued his boring speech while the doctor struggled to find an ashtray.

"I would not have even considered your approach to join this team had you come begging like others. Instead, you waltzed right up to me in broad daylight with the old man on your arm like you belonged there. In a sense, your curiosity and initiative are part of your talents as well. In conclusion: I need you for other reasons than your name alone, which would really spoil the whole 'martyr to the cause' approach for me, I think. Besides, Lucas and the others are going to need someone to help them go over the weapons they bring in today. I'll be busy trying to establish a deal with the new Premier, and there will be a lot of shiny new guns. Perhaps a new rifle to make you feel better?"

If Alexis bothered to look back at Alex in that instant, she would see one of the strangest (and bloodiest) 'fatherly' smiles in the galaxy.

-----

[Alleyway]

With everyone loaded in the buggy, save for the snipers and Babs (left behind to keep watch in a hasty arrangement), Lucas peeled out of the alleyway and drifted around the corner. They were face to face with the prison gates. Inside, the heavy murmer of distant yelling and the occasional gunshot could be heard. Within a moments span they found themselves at the gate. The guard in the guardhouse was ignoring them in favor of his radio. He was shouting into the handset, demanding to know what was going on. Lucas leaned over to his own radio and muttered to Rennik and Archie in the building above. His voice would crackle on a set of old speakers wired to the former office's PA system.

"It doesn't look like this guy is gonna let us in. Hold off on shooting him until I can think of something."

Then, Lucas stood and moved to the back of the buggy where everyone sat uncuffed, and obvious affront to the cover-story. Lucas tried to play along as if they were still cuffed.

"Uh, now... Keep it down back here while I figure out what's going on and nobody will get hurt... Um, and stuff." He said, with a terrible false-depth to his voice, "And don't make any fast movements... or nothin'."

Alexis accepted the cigarette without hesitation, and took the light from Alex in her off hand - she didn't yet trust it yet, and she could hardly feel it. It was supposed to be a replacement for her dominant arm; she doubted seriously it would live up to that. But she cupped the cigarette just to test that she could, and everything seemed to be alright. The acrid smoke tasted pretty bitter after two days off of them, but it was familiar and she liked it. It was almost better than candy.

She transferred the lighter to her new hand and began to walk it carefully up and down her fingers as she listened to Alex, maintaining eye contact or something close throughout the entire spiel. Alexis was nothing if not a good listener. Of course, she dropped the lighter halfway through, but it fell on the covers so that didn't matter so much. Maybe it was just the drugs, but Alexis glumly didn't think so. She managed to keep her disappointment internal.

After Alex had finished his speech, the look that Ally put on was a fairly convincing pout, with just enough adorable to deflect away from the sadness and send the impression into the realm of casual mockery. "So like, you're gonna pose me for some pictures along with some high-caliber weaponry, and like, I'm going to attract all the angry homicidal, overly hormonal males in the world to your cause."

Alexis ashed her cigarette in the latrine bucket next to the bed, then sucked on it thoughtfully. The cherry burned rather brightly orange. It lit a much more serious expression - her eyes were far distant, like the sun over snowy mountains in some foreign land.

"I want to be taken more seriously than that. I didn't join up with you, just for looks. I dunno. People out there, they're in pretty deep. A lot of them, you know, they don't feel the need to bother with the government. They don't care who leads them. They're buying weapons for their own private wars, like they're feudal barons, trying to re-fight the intergalactic split all over again. What do they care?"

More ash. She draped her arm around her knee again, shifting her posture and reclining against the headpost of the bed.

"I came here, I want to be here, because I see that and I think it's... it's terrible. Our race - that's what it is, too, it's our whole race - has so much potential, but we're all being used. Used by the Mishhuvurthyar. Used by the Yamatians. Used by the Jiyuuians. Used by the whole galaxy, because we let ourselves be outdistanced. But we've got something they don't. There's a lot to be said of the human spirit. Yet we tromp it down and nobody cares about anybody anymore. It's all about what you've got in your hand - justice is only so far as you can reach, personally. Like, those marines. The ones we had to... kill. You know, I don't like that. They were probably thinking, they had it good in life, you know, like they are on the winning side. It doesn't matter that they're killing their own people.

"I've seen a lot since I left home. Kids without clothing, families clinging to the walls of cities that should be open to them, in shacks made out of scrap metal and filth. They join the gangs because they have to, to survive; they call it honor but it's no more than indentured servitude. The gangs - the industrial giants, the politically mobile, everybody - Can you believe that there are parts of this planet, that still practice agriculture, and the whole universe just fabricates food from matter so pervasive it's in the very air we breathe? That's like... it's like..."

Ally faltered, swooning slightly, suddenly lightheaded.

"...Uung..." she murmured.

Then, she leaned over the bed and threw up the rest of her righteous indignation in the bedpan.

Approximately 30 seconds ago

Rennik had been lining up his shot for a few minutes now. The stupid ID-Sol hadn't really moved from his position in the tower, merely pivoting on the spot in order to keep a lookout. Rennik had been keeping careful timing on a silent count; the gang should have moved up to the gate by now, which meant it was time.
Slowly, carefully, he placed his finger on the trigger, his sights dead on the targets neck. He began to slowly squeeze the trigger...and the ID-Sol dropped dead before Rennik could pull off the shot.
"What?!" he exclaimed, putting down his rifle in complete confusion. There had been two gunshots, and the guard had dropped dead, but Rennik hadn't done the shooting.

The Present

Lucas's message came in all grainy and painful over the old PA system.
"So what do I do then? Try getting over the wall from here? Someone's shooting in there and it isn't us!" he replied testily

Chrys with her cuffs still on her hands but unlocked this time sat in the buggy. Since it was almost seemed like plan C (We wil drive in and shoot everyone), but it now seemed that rules changed again. She felt her pistol calling to her from under the coat and was viciously watching the guard.

She also noticed that Lucas was not very good actor. She had to look at him and smile a little. But she then returned her attention back to guard. "Luc ask Grandpa and Twitchy what is going on in the yard. That guard seem to be on his toes for some reason." She said loud enough that it would be heard only by Lucas and others in the car.

The man had been on station for nearly six hours simply watching and waiting. He was a sniper, his weapon presently deployed on it's bipod was a gas operated 15.5mm anti-material rifle. So far he had yet to actually use it. The streets in his area had been quiet for the most part of his 'shift', not even an enemy patrol to report in. The shrill sound of the siren changed all that, he'd been informed of the prison but had been told to never engage unless something happened. The sounds of chaos erupting more or less confirmed the latter that order. He slowly canted the the massive rifle, sweeping the powerful computer assisted telescopic scope over the prison compound.

Slowly his sight moved over a small alley that lead into the compound, an alleyway he was lined up with. Seeing what he would automatically assume as a truck full of prisoners being watched by a lone ID-SOL he quickly thumbed off the safety. He pulled the trigger, the muzzle flash exploded from the bore, illuminating his entire position for a split second. He adjusted his aim again and fired a second time.

The first projectile was a HEAPI or High Explosive Armor Piercing Incendiary shell, it struck the rear of the truck directly into the axle, shattering the rear transmission with a loud thud. The occupants would hear the report a moment later.

The second projectile, the same type as the first, was aimed at the ID-SOL. It missed it's intended center of mass, drifting from a slight error generated by the scope. It struck the ID-SOL's weapon, exploding itself and it and a brilliant flash of explosive force.

"There. There." The typically heartwarming sentiment came cold and stony from Alex's lips. Nonetheless, the touch was sincere and warm, and Alexis soon found herself with Alex's labcoat draped over her shoulders, long and thin fingers mussing at her hair to complete the set-up.

"Your passion is unparalleled. You will make an excellent symbol for the people." Alex sat on the bed next to her on the good-arm side and peeled the latex gloves from his hand before continuing to arrange her hair.

"Let us see if we can do something to make you feel better, yes? Perhaps a trip to the armory? I will have the doctor inject a few more local anesthetics and some amphetamines so you can see just how efficient your new arm can be."

-----

[Prison Gate]

"Aw, shit! My fuckin' hand!" Lucas acknowledged his injury only briefly before ducking down with his arms outstretched to pull everyone down with him. "It's a fuckin' sniper. They know who we are! Everybody make for the underside of the truck!"

The sounds of battle were coming to Rennik alright; from exactly the wrong direction of the prison. Cursing very bitterly, he heaved up his rifle and scrambled for the door.
The whole plan had gone to hell in a hand-basket and he had no idea where anyone was or what they were doing, and he had...personal stake in the success of the mission. He flew out the hallway and through a door onto the fire escape above the street where the truck was parked, finding the back end on fire and Lucas nursing a bloody hand. He ran to the ladder and slid down it to street level. He pelted across the narrow way, grabbing a hold of lucas and dragging him behind the truck.
"Maudissez toi et tout" he said angrily when looking at Lucas's hand.
"Either the shooter is very skilled or you are very lucky" he said to Lucas while readying his rifle. Very quickly, he peeked around the front of the truck.