As Marko ascended the ramp to the deck of the Aleph Null, he was well aware that he might be making his last walk in this world. He had done scores this difficult before, with fewer people, and he was well aware of the most basic rule: There is no perfect or flawed, no 'could have done it differently,' only success or death. In his line of work, a loaf of bread was eat or be whipped, and a mountain of gold was riches or certain death. This would be no easy task. Freighters always have something worth protecting, and life is less valuable in contrast to the items contained within. Adding to the difficulty was the aerial nature, a field for which he had no experience. He would succeed or die, with no middle ground to be found.

He listened absently to Balder's speech as he watched the freighter get closer and closer, their sailing master diving straight for the prize. The only thing Marko found himself thinking about was the ghosts of his past. His silent ritual, and absent memory clearing his mind of emotion and fear. The romantic books never told of just how damn scary being a shadow really is. Of course, the authors had no idea, they had never done a heist being hunted by fifty armed guards whose sole goal was to mount their heads on a spike. All of the silent memories, both fond and otherwise, and the path that lead him here. "This better be worth it," he mumbled under his breath, more to himself than as a sign of doubt. It didn't matter if anybody heard him, in thirty seconds he'd be flying right into the hornet's nest.

It came like a flash. Their opening, right where he and Jory had determined it to be. The narrow gap leading right down into the hull that would be their route of ingress. He turned to Lasrach, letting loose a sly smile. "Hope you gents are ready, this is going to be a party worth remembering," he said, turning and facing every man. There was a decent chance they wouldn't all come back, so it was worth taking a mental snapshot.

As if on autopilot, he jumped over the railing immediately as the order came. Springing away from the hull, there was about ten feet to the edge of the freighter's disembarkation ramp from where he had been. He could now officially check 'jump from an airship' from his bucket list, though it certainly wasn't what he had planned on when he signed up. Not a second later, without looking to see if anybody else had made it safely, skipped and nimbly slipped down the ramp, rolling to avoid any sudden stops.

He slipped out his dagger, the foot long razor blade ready to kill any would-be heroes, if there were any. The sailors inside the loading bay had no idea what was going on, and stood motionless, paralyzed and in shock. Their faces looked as if they had seen a ghost, pale and contorted with surprise. Another check off his bucket list: Get detected within seconds of breaching. A first, and not one he wanted to make. It wouldn't be long before they realized what was going on and started to defend themselves. It had been a long time since he last wet his blade, and it looked like the dry spell was about to end. It was either that, or wait for them to get their friends to slaughter the infiltration crew. They weren't equipped to deal with a sizable force, and any attempt to engage one would be doomed.

"We need to kill them," he calmly shouted, though with haste, to Balder. This was going to get very ugly, very quickly.. They had a couple seconds at best before they became officially screwed. "And preferably now!"