«[b]Target's leaving[/b]» Felik told Re.
"Where?" he said, with a brief mental connotation that he meant where she was leaving [i]from[/i], not [i]to[/i]. In response, a red outline- harsh against the relatively clean BESC buildings- moved to a car. Half smirking and half ready to swear, Re stood up from his sniping roost. He was greeted by a bullet cutting through the roof above him. Now he swore. They had found him. But what about the tracker? It was the only way they could've known where he was. He'd thought no one had seen the shot, but they must've assumed it hadn't made it all the way to any human flesh. Or they'd moved the tracker onto another, more expendable employee.

He crawled back out of his post. Arrogant [i]hasp[/i]s hadn't bothered to cover exits. They thought he'd go down from the first shot. He slid down into his own hidden car, a battered looking Racer-class. Prepping the repulsor engines, he heard a faint sputter. Felik jacked into the systems, running diagnostics. Shortly after, the engines gave a satisfied hum. The car jumped forward, locking onto the BESC car's exhaust fumes. Fancy stuff, he had to admit. There wasn't much to track them on. "Jey," he commed back to the Rebellion's headquarters. "In pursuit of target. Think you can authorize some special things in the skylanes?"
"Nope," said a voice in his head. "Not after last time. However, we are picking up chatter about a crash. I'll send you the details. I'm sure Guide can overlay the info into your display." Wishful thinking, really. [i]Last time[/i] had involved a few more things breaking than the amount that should've broke. Sighing, he leaned back and looked at the data Distol had sent.