[center][h3]Brewing Storm[/h3][/center]

The open door led down a short and narrow hallway to a junction room with several exits.  One led to a downward stairwell, another to a dual-purpose sterilization and hazard gear room, a third to an upward stairwell with a wall plate that read 'Living Quarters', and the last to a longer and poorly-lit hallway whose plate marked it as 'Traffic Center'.  Unless this Traffic Center and Priscilla's control room were one and the same, Beacon's principal pink-haired freshman was not on this floor.

Meanwhile, Amy would find her senses bombarded.  Sound came from nearly everywhere at once now, the undeniable rapping of little feet and hands on metal, tile, and concrete, but no visible sign of an enemy could be found.  Even the non-faunus members of the mission could likely hear and be creeped out by the increasing noise now.  Most worryingly, it came from inside the tubes, pipes, and vents that absolutely choked the building's interior and immediate exterior.

As the students made their way into the junction room, the first one in couldn't miss a telltale sign on the floor.  An elderly man in a button-up shirt and black trousers sat with his back against the wall, his eyes open but devoid of life.  No trace of viscera lay upon him or the walls and floor around him.  All that could be seen to an observant and indelicate hunter-in-training would be abrasions around his throat, very much like human hands.

[center]-=-=-[/center]

After leaning back from the receiver, Priscilla felt a hand on her shoulder.  Straw Tickseed, one of the seven people who along with her didn't quite form a 'bunch of other survivors', could barely contain her renewed hope now that contact had been made with a rescue party.  The young woman, gaunt-faced despite her rotundity, practically jumped up and down.  Echoes of her enthusiasm could be seen to greater or lesser degrees among the other survivors, one of whom even seemed ready to unseal the control room door and sprint through the distillery to greet the rescuers in person.  “Omigod omigod, I can't believe it!  We're saved!” Straw gushed.  If not kept in check, the eagerness of some of the survivors might pose a problem to the operation—particularly if they made enough noise to rouse some of the distillery's other residents.

[center][h3]Defend a Caravan[/h3][/center]

Sterling's move, however habitual, got the job done.  The Tutankhamen shrieked as an inky black bile burst from the ravaged impact site, but given that the senior hunter needed to divert slightly from the center in order to avoid the Grimm's spinal spikes, it flew to the side rather than just being crushed.  Snarling in protest, the monster tumbled off the top of the caravan vehicle, and after landing on its side it struggled to right itself.  

The Nightmares, having crumbled beneath the cooperative attack of both Estelle and Sarina, served as a warning to the remaining Grimm horses.  A cacophony of whinnies and screams ensued as the remaining Nightmares scattered around the vehicle broke off and grouped together to stampede single-mindedly toward the young huntresses.  This left the mostly-dead bulk of the Deathstalker and a single Tutankhamen on the opposite side to harry the caravan.  Perhaps observing this, the driver revved the engines, and the huge tanklike vehicle lurched forward.

A double tap of feet on metal signaled that Jorie had landed.  Calling out, “we're about to get going!” to Sarina and Estelle, she aimed her claw arm at the leftover Tutankhamen and let loose a burst that knocked the creature end over end in a rather comical fashion, wailing all the while.  With the second-to-last burden resolved, the vehicle took off, moving slowly at the moment but gaining speed rapidly despite the Deathstalker draped across it.

Paying no mind to the oversized arachnid proved to be a mistake for Jorie, however.  Even if the Grimm monstrosity was dying, it had yet to dissolve and could still attack.  By the time that the overexcited faunus turned to fire off another burst at it, the Grimm's stinger already lashed out.  Jorie held up her claw arm to block, yet flew backward nevertheless when the poisonous time broke her aura in a single shot.  The next moment, her small body impacted the caravan vehicle's smokestack, and instantly the faunus fell unconscious.

Only a small window remained for everyone present to both secure their position of the vehicle and to ensure that the rising wind didn't send Jorie's body flying backward into the empty desert.