[h2]Luke Schwarz -- Investigation[/h2]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6X6Jql8wqyo]He blinked.[/url]

[i][center][color=f49ac2]Priscilla Montgomery.[/color]
[color=fdc68a]One of the three missing members of Robert's old team--
For some reason, is here.
Stuck in the Distillery, of all places.
The plot isn't just thickening-- it's growing stranger.[/color][/center][/i]

He mentally made note to keep a track of these things in the back of his mind-- if nothing else, this mission would be quite the story to tell around the lunch table, or campfire, or text back home. It certainly never hurt to keep track of a mission's progress in any case, and should something continue the trend of "new factors in the game", it would behoove him to take note, and perhaps even use it alongside previous evidence to attempt to determine a pattern.

[color=fdc68a][center][i]Would this be a time where Mom would tell me I'm beginning to think like a Hunter?
Or perhaps I'm putting [u]too much[/u] though into it...[/i][/center][/color]

While it would be neither the first nor the last case in either respect, he returned focus to the matter at hand, Gazing through the low light of the facility hallway into the junction room beyond.

With a small start, his eyes widened as they laid upon an old man, slumped against the wall. Someone was in there! Granted, it wasn't certain if they were dead or merely unconscious, at least at this distance, with this lighting, and this lack of overwhelming evidence. If he wanted to properly understand the old man's circumstances, he would need to take a closer look. 

A closer look that would require going right up to him. This far away, he could even properly tell if the old man was breathing. With this in mind, he aired the idea simply.

[b]"There's somebody in the room ahead. If someone could keep an eye on me, I can go check it out real fast."[/b]

A risky maneuver, undoubtedly. Splitting off from the group was by far the number one way to offer oneself up on a silver platter. He knew that, for despite his general, habitual, almost natural penchant for erring towards the incompetent and foolish end of the scale, he was still not so uncultured as to hold any belief that ran counter to what was commonly understood by those as young as toddlers to be a bad move.

Which is why he had prepared for the extremely likely occasion of having the offer refused with a compromise: he would be to maintain visual and verbal contact at all times during the short trip to and from the junction room, perfectly willing to narrate his actions to the group as a whole in real time while never leaving the watchperson's line of sight.

You have to admit, that's at least the token step further than the bar set by fiction.

[hr][hr]

[color=silver][h2]Sterling Johnson -- Teammate Defense.[/h2]

"On it!"[/color] he gruffly barked in response, spilling out the entire pouch of ball bearings into the air. Snapping Nuada's fist back into place, the robotic limb unsheathed it's blade with a swift click, adding a new dimension of deadliness into the constructed limb, which would serve him well as soon as something got past that familiar whirlwind of steel that was now surrounding him.

In the meantime, even as he latched on with a free hand to the "floor", he kept his eyes squarely upon Estelle as she made a quick bid for safety, ready to fire off more of the little bullets as soon as something even appeared to [i]consider[/i] going after the two.