What a horror show. Didn't matter how many times Recluse saw drek like this, the shock never really went away. If he wasn't already hopped up three ways to sunday, something like this might have sent the shock right through his spine, crippling his trigger finger to the point of uselessness.

Thank god for Big Pharma and his slummy little cousin.

From his vantage point on high, above all the smoke and muzzle flash, the situation was clear. Several orks, poorly equipped and pretty clearly unsure of what they'd gotten themselves into, were all incapped. The lucky ones got a stray bullet to the brain. The unlucky ones had to feel themselves go haywire from the inside out. Ah, the unfortunate situation of bringing endless muscle to a matrix fight.

Speaking of muscle, there were a few trolls left standing. It seemed like they'd been a bit more prepared than the orks. Somebody had clued them in that there was going to be a raid sometime soon, they hadn't even bat an eye at the opposition and sudden outbreak of gunfire. He filed that in his brain for later. Now wasn't the time to analyze this, but who had let them on? Or was their target so important that guards like these were posted the whole time...? What was going on here?

Amidst the carnage, he saw Traction enter the building. Her dirty work was mostly done outside where it was safe. It was an envious position, though maybe he wasn't the right person to be saying that from his position up in the rafters. But the fact that she'd come in the doors meant that everybody was accounted for. If Kali had run out through the break room doors, that meant that room was probably accounted for. Very accounted for. That being the case, they just needed to clear up the people here, then. Recluse didn't really dare come down from his vantage point while there were folks spewing bullets every which way, but he could take a little potshot here and there. One troll entered his sights, having been tall enough to be visible through the smoke.

"If you wanna curse somebody," he muttered sluggishly to nobody but himself, "curse your parents for giving you those genes." Some sort of battle sense made the troll aim his gun upwards toward the ceiling just as Recluse braced his body against the stiff rafters and fired a shot. The trog's instinct was good, but it wasn't enough to save him. With the sound of a small bomb going off (there wasn't any need for a silencer in an echo chamber like this) the rifle bullet crashed straight through the barrel of the troll's assault rifle, ripping the steel to shreds in his hands, before entering his ribs, doing equal damage to everything in his chest that ribs were usually supposed to protect. It wasn't flashy amidst the flair and carnage that was happening around them, but for Recluse, a shot like that was always satisfying.

---

This job had been made for them. Their team was overflowing with destructive power, and a job like this wasn't even in their league. Even the group of what were likely trained mercs weren't ready for their assault, and with minimal cleanup, and a bit of time, the warehouse was 'cleared out.' Or at least, for their purposes it was.

The devastation wasn't going to go away that easily, and it was far from a clean run. White dust and debris coated everything in the main room, broken up by cones of dark red and brown blood, and a couple of bodies still twitching from their nerves literally frying. Bullet casings were lodged in just about every cranny, and most of the stock on the main floor was garbage now, or else somebody was going to get a little more lead and brass than they bargained for.

"What a shitshow," Recluse sighed as he climbed down from his position in the ceiling, hanging down from a wire clipped to his belt like some kind of doped up spider, which was probably a little on the nose.

"I guess this is the messy part done, but now we've got to figure out what to do with these CDs, right? And if we're gonna tamper with records, maybe now's the time, Miss Traction, while the rest of us figure this out." He didn't mean it in any pointed way, but there was probably no way of saying it that would put him in Traction's good books anyway. As if there was an open slot for Recluse there in the first place. There was no need to comment on their efficiency. When it came to putting bullets in dudes, it was hard to match their team, so this outcome was expected. It'd be easy money, if not for the remaining factor of getting the CDs dispelled, out the door, and on their way to the boss before the fuzz showed up. Now came the real work.