[center][h3]Brewing Storm[/h3]
[@krayzikk][@sho minazuki][@herecomesthesnow][@kaithas][@plank Sinatra][@suku][@narayank][/center]

Though their relief and gratitude were palpable, the two men could not form a single word amongst them through the chattering of their teeth and ragged breathing.  Cold rolled off them in waves, but even being out of the food locker already appeared to helping.  Neither made any effort to resist the removal of their clothes, despite the sickly pallor and clamminess of their skin, and without much in the way of lucidity then received the warmth offered to them by the students.

Benjamin’s inquiry received a punctual reply.  Goodwitch’s familiar no-nonsense voice surged through the radio.  “Yes.  According to Manticore, eighteen people were present in the facility during the last report.  I can get the names if you require, but you shouldn’t.  With these two accounted for, and the bodies found, that makes five.  Factoring in the people in the safe room mentioned by your new contact, you have thirteen.  Five left,” she calculated flatly.  “Time is of the essence.  Take a look in all of the rooms in the hallway before going downstairs.  

[center][i]-meanwhile-[/i][/center]

As a unit, JCL moved into the next room with Lucas on point.  Directly after the decontamination room was chemical processing.  While no doubt a marvel of engineering and efficiency during the distillery’s heyday, the processing room now lay in a state of ruin.  An entire wall was dedicated to the stacking of chemical drums, separated neatly by a demarcation line into filled and empty.  Of course, quite a few littered the floor in various states of damage, and a variety of chemicals lay in puddles across the floor.  They suffused the entire room with an intriguing but nauseating odor, of which the students had only gotten a hint in the generator room.  Judging by the state of the floor and nearby machinery, some of the puddles were acidic, but to a sane individual none would seem attractive for the setting of one’s foot.  At the far end of the room was a lift, like the dumbwaiter but far larger, for the ascension of filled drums to the vehicle lot for transport.

The noise caused by the three teens’ entrance quickly gave way to silence.  Worryingly abruptly, the feminine screaming had ceased, though by now it was obvious that it came from a closed but unlocked door to an adjoining storage area.  After a moment, however, a new noise broke the oppressive quiet.  A large chemical drum with sides raked by clawmarks, situated at the other side of the room, shuddered violently, a clang reverberating within.  From this drum a muffled noise echoed forth, ambiguous in all but intimidation.

[center][h3][s]Defend a Caravan[/s][/h3]
[@write][@ayazi][@herecomesthesnow][/center]

The three remaining students, with Jorie slung over Sterling’s shoulder like the catch of the day, made it to the evac point without incident.  While a few of the lesser Taijitus tailed them, a couple volleys of projectiles successfully turned their attention back to the abandoned caravan vehicle to join their fellows in ripping into it like hagfish into a dead whale.  No humans remained in the formerly-proud vehicle to elicit such wild bloodthirstiness; evidently the Grimm delighted in destroying the works of man nearly as much as eviscerating men themselves.

By a miracle of carmanship, the driver had arrived with Lilac just before Sterling, Estelle, and Sarina made the final ascent.  They piled in, a collective despondency hanging around them like mist.  As the airship took off, leaving the canyon of failure behind, the pilot said nothing; Beacon’s seniors would be their own worst critics.  Not many students of their caliber flunked a mission, and while nobody lay dead on the dusty arid ground, team JESS seemed so gripped by a morose quiet that there might as well have been.