A man without time for sensitivity:
The loading supervisor has a moment where he seems angry. Then frustrated, then a little sad. Then his expression settles on 'Ugh, I do not have time for this'. He pulls a small metal whistle from his pocket, puts it to his lips and gives to piercing bursts on the thing. Apparently it's used to cut over the loud sounds of the loading crew, the only woman on staff totters over. She's impressively tall, with perfectly straight glossy black hair and wears a hard hat, a black tank top under a high visibility vest, and cargo pants. Most of her clothing is plastered to her thanks to the rain, but is carefully chosen to not have that cause problems. The very image of a woman who lifts heavy stuff for a living.
"Look, just go in. Esinne here will sign you on as a guest, and make sure you're not bothered. If the damn transit authority turns up and decides to cause a fuss I'll handle them." He indicates the rearmost car, and the woman on crew begins to escort Winter that way.
Successfully boarding, cover not blown... But an escort now who hovers around Winter, seemingly concerned.
Might be a Last Stop:
A few things started to happen at once in the dining car. First it seemed relaxed, as the guard ordered his coffee didn't even notice as light fingers removed it from his person. He just happily waited for his possibly spiked coffee, and cardboard-ish muffins as the others moved around in the crowd... But of course, the door to the cargo cars of the train were still locked. The keycard was the one he used to get through there in the first place. As he filed towards the rear of the train again with his spoils of a breakfast drugged-and-awful, there was a loud shout of anguish.
"What the fuck?!" The guard pronounced, looking at his lanyard in disbelief... And then he took up his radio, practically growling into it in a hushed tone. He took a turn, and opened the side door to the train, hopping down and out into the rain to walk across the loading bay to get back to secured cargo.
The inside man could hear what was being said loud and clear.
"We got trouble in the caf." The guards' radios crackled, the ID-SOL Captain holding up massive kielbasa-esque fingers to his earpiece with a look of purest hyper-testosterone fuelled rage on his features. "Someone's lifted the keycard off me. It was secured as you handed it to me, Sir. Unlikely it got dropped, I'll reboard on the side doors with the coffee."
Of course, the Captain didn't care about coffee and muffins. What followed was a loud rant that sounded more like a literal volcanic eruption that filled the Secured Carriage. What Jacob could understand of it was a few snippets among the incoherency of it all: He had shouted for someone to halt the train, as well as angrily shouted at the doctor to get the cargo ready for extraction. When the deaf doctor didn't hear it, he angrily signed it to him. Adding an extra single finger-digit to the mix afterwards.
The secured cargo carriage became a flurry of activity, as the guards opened the door for the man with coffee, then shut it and began to secure the entire compartment. Closing metal shutters over the windows, and pointing guns at every door. The doctor and other orderly began to set to work, sliding the three largest containers in Secure Cargo one-by-one outwards like a drawer and opening them up. What was inside was... Definitely what they were looking for. Or at least one of them was.
Three women, each one in bright orange jumpsuits that would look at home in a high security prison, although they incorporated restraints to keep their arms by their sides. The look topped off by black bags over the heads of each one, and a device clipped to their waist. The thing was a little block-like device, with clear tubes leading up from the top to under their head-bags. Small pressure gauges and numbers Jacob didn't recognize were shifting over the outer surface of the thing. At a guess it looked like something that was continually dosing them with some drug or other.
What was a little more unpleasant to look at them was their exposed arms from the short sleeved jumpsuits. Two of them had their exposed flesh marred in multiple places with what looked like golf-ball sized tumors, or growths maybe? Each one with three marks from a syringe of some sort, so it seemed that they were implanted somehow or other. The third however was markedly different. By the number of fingers, she seemed to be an older model of Nekovalkyrja. Rather than the tumors, her abdomen was grossly distended in a manner which would suggest pregnancy if it weren't for the lop-sided look to it. At a guess it seemed like they'd sewn something inside her...
Throughout the entire train, the PA system came to life:
"All passengers are advised that the morning service has experienced an unexpected delay due to mechanical faults." It said in a clearly synthesized voice. "Service will be resumed once this issue has been cleared. We appreciate your Patience at this time."
Cyborg Back-Up:
Due to the Associates' short term notification of this mission, armed backup was not going to happen in its usual form. In this case, a handful of other operatives had been chosen. Three cybernetic Operatives arrive on the scene just in time for it to go to hell. From the reports they had received, they were looking at a situation in which the primary infiltration team was on board a train. The entire group's communicators crackled to life with Newhouse's voice once again, she spoke softly to make sure that this intrusion wasn't to call attention to the Operators:
"It sounds like you're having problems. There's three more you can call upon for backup, but they're heavies. Whatever happens, we don't want this to devolve into a firefight and war in the streets so call them in wisely."
The train was halted at station, which left the entire conveyance surrounded by a dozen armed security operatives. But the public announcement system was saying this was all according to mechanical fault... Which chances were, it wasn't the case. There was still opportunity for stealth and blending in, as the Security forces that were being circumvented were trying to maintain a facade of normalty.
But as a storm rages overhead, the whole scene seems tense. Like it could explode at any moment, like lightning from the clouds.
Pus & Cyborg Problems:
As Squeakies pulled the truck out, there was another thunk. Sounding like someone was gaining balance as they were suddenly truck-surfing in traffic. Clearly something was up, though. Outside there was no sign of anything standing on the roof visually, but as the get-away vehicle moved through the city there was always the telltale sounds of weight shifting above, and occasionally another step being taken. Something was up there...
A few glances in darkened windows didn't quite cut it to see what was up there, but after a while Squeakies could spot something... Indistinct. Rain wasn't moving like it should, telltale splashes of water hitting something standing on top of the truck but unseen. Someone was on top, using some sort of active camouflage, and as they drive further away: They were being watched, more tellingly the figure was creeping closer to where the two were sitting, but keeping low and slinking forward only slowly.
Brigid, on the other hand would learn next to nothing from the liquid described by Jacob. The smell and look of it suggests something inert, and maybe non-chemical as it has no distinct odor other than slightly sweet, but slightly metallic. Chances are it was some sort of nanite concoction. The flasks themselves being unmarked meant they had little or no extra information to go on.
Of course, Brigid and Jacob had other business to worry about right now.