[center][b][h1][color=#44F03E]𝔽[/color][color=#42E93C]𝕦[/color][color=#40E33A]𝕥[/color][color=#3EDD39]𝕚[/color][color=#3DD737]𝕝[/color][color=#3BD136]𝕚[/color][color=#39CB34]𝕥[/color][color=#38C532]𝕪[/color][color=#36BF31]:[/color] [color=#32B32E]𝕋[/color][color=#31AD2C]𝕙[/color][color=#2FA62A]𝕖[/color] [color=#2C9A27]𝔾[/color][color=#2A9426]𝕣[/color][color=#288E24]𝕖[/color][color=#268823]𝕒[/color][color=#258221]t[/color] [color=#21761E]𝔾[/color][color=#20701C]𝕒[/color][color=#1E6A1B]𝕞[/color][color=#1C6419]𝕖[/color][/h1][/b][/center]

[center][hider=Tensions, Dust Gathering, Hellfire on the Horizon, But the Worst of it all Hides INSIDE][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2VHjCqiU88[/youtube][/hider][/center]

[color=mediumvioletred][b] “Scarcely a news report would escape. Scarcely a journo would go unscathed. Welcome to [color=008000]N[s]0[/s] Man’s Land.[/color] The Reclaim is a dangerous place, where careful [color=008000]𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤[/color] are therein played...”[/b][/color]

[b][i][color=#ffdf12]ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕄𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 
𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕟 ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕊𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕝[/color][/i][/b]
[color=green]>>> …[/color]
[i][color=#ffdf12] “Unrest seems to be stirring in front of APEX Industries R&D complex and offices on the edge of the underpopulated Reclaim Zone. Headquarters of Reclaim mayor and South City Sprawl council candidate Joshua Gatch, many wonder the implications for tomorrow’s debate.”

“The crowd seems to have gathered from nowhere. The cracks in the dead zone. Silence… Then the two armed APEX door guards were surrounded. Currently the crowd is swelling and we can hardly see what’s become of the doormen. It’s anyone’s guess—…”

“Are we getting signal?”[/color][/i]

[right][color=gray][b] “We gotta get out of here…[/b][/color][/right][hr][hr]

[h3][color=black][s]𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖 ℤ𝕠𝕟𝕖[/s] “ℕ[s]𝟘[/s] 𝕄𝔸ℕ'𝕊 𝕃𝔸ℕ𝔻”[/color][/h3][color=008000][b]ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞 ℤ𝕠𝕟𝕖, 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙 ℂ𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕊𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕝[/b]
[b]𝔸𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕝 𝟚𝕟𝕕, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟝 :: 𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞 ℤ𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕖[/b]
[b] [𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕤] 𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘...[/b][/color]

No Man’s Land wasn’t the place you roam without a strict, specific goal in mind and a will to see it through by any means. On municipal maps, the outer mess of Reclaim streets was the richest district. It was true. Gatch willed it so when the empty blocks of derelict property were turned into opposing strongholds. There wasn’t much sign that the corps were there. Rather, they were like ghosts embedded in the empty streets of those empty seas. Occasionally, the purpose-filled walker would catch a glimpse—bright fluorescent lights illuminating the debris-dotted streets. They might hear the buzzing of thick power cables drawing environmentally-castrating volumes of volts just beneath the asphalt. 

[i]Stella thought it was a strange place for the services of such a specialist.[/i] 

A tumbleweed of some official paper report rolled by in the dust and she knew it had been a long time since anyone had cleaned up. Stella thought about reaching to pick it up, but it skittered away and fell into a small crater in the road, blackened by what she could only imagine was an airborne dose of burning plasma.

[i]APEX[/i], of course, had the biggest complex of all in the corporate warzone. It probably spanned a block or something ridiculous. No one could really tell from the outside what any of the buildings in No Man’s Land were. It helped the companies keep their cover from ill-intentioned actors, the Mixologist supposed. That was also the general reason the homeless droves of the zone tended to linger closer to the Central Square. Over there, you may get hassled, but there’s a significantly lower chance of entering what looks like an abandoned factory only to get zapped.

The place was marked out front by degraded metal letters. [i]A-P-E-X[/i]. To find it, she just followed the distant sounds of dissent. It was like a chorus of voices you’d hear in a loud auditorium, but mottled by the doppler. You would have missed them if there hadn’t been two men strapped in Exo-suits out front. Their strangely bulky rifles were trained on the gathering mass of protestors, whose shouts grew louder as the bartender neared. Either way, she couldn’t really make out what they were saying, but they were angry, and their numbers were growing. Occasionally, a few of the protestors would step towards the stairs, stare down the barrel of the blaster, and dare to hassle the mercs. 

[b][i] “Come out planet killers!”[/i][/b]

[right][b][i] “Where’s Gatch?”[/i][/b][/right]

[b][i] “Stop hoarding the power!”[/i][/b]

[right][b][i] “Green energy for the populace!”[/i][/b][/right]

It wasn’t that the Mixologist wasn’t used to rowdy customers, but it definitely wasn’t her usual crowd. In fact, she could really get further from the sort that frequented Alexandria unless they went underground, which may have in fact been their intention. Thankfully, all the rocks, bottles, and other projectiles were directed towards the building, which looked pretty impenetrable save for the door. Those that had solid enough aim to hit near the exo-geeks were rewarded by getting pistol whipped until skin, bones, or skulls split. Stella was lucky enough to set up down-range.

Outsiders were never safe in the Reclaim’s No Man’s Land. When outsiders were the ones who flooded the district and did their best to take control of No Man’s Land, other outsiders were even more at risk it seemed. There were plenty of protestors who bathed more in the chaos than in any moral objective behind it. Unlucky journos or counter-protestors were jostled around, prevented from leaving… [i]or worse[/i] by the sort that weren’t too keen on facing down uber-strapped mercs. A few burly hounds even bothered the Mixologist while she was setting up. 

[b] “Welcome to the Reclaim. You don’t belong here.”[/b] The man let his bat drag along the ground for additional horror-villain effect. She saw straight through his green bandana, into his soft soul. She was good at that.

[color=#00e6e6][b] “No I’m not.”[/b][/color] Stella pointed to the sign. Emblazoned upon the two-wheeled cart was a clear 3-lettered neon sign running on some unknown source. The whole thing looked like it was rigged up out of one of Central Square’s old street-food carts, but repurposed for just the Ultra[color=#FF30CF]B - A - R[/color]tender’s style. 

[color=#00e6e6][b] “I’m the bartender.”[/b][/color]

[b] “For the…”[/b]

[color=#00e6e6][b] “. . .”[/b][/color]

[b] “For the riot?”[/b][hr][hr]

Joshua Gatch had that executive habit of being surrounded by the sort of people who read too many self-help books. Not just that, but the sort who followed through on the guru’s advice. The sort that would share life tips with you at cocktail parties. He was the kind of guy that went to cocktail parties, so he was also the kind of guy that dealt with stress by taking a deep breath and exhaling as slowly and obnoxiously as possible for all the room to hear.

The APEX megacenter was a maze that even the mayor didn’t brave. The maze of factory blocks had become only a greater mess when higher-ups moved in all sorts of disjointed operations. Some of them employed the denizens of the Reclaim, but a majority were defense-oriented. At least, that’s what he was told. An unregulated, underwatched area in the middle of South City was the perfect place for APEX to jam all sorts of metal into magic boxes and that sort of thing. Gatch didn’t mind. His penthouse was atop the highest levels—the offices for APEX officials, management, and on-site scientists. He tried to interact with as few of them as possible, but in the[i] ‘situation room’[/i] he couldn’t help but deal with the concerned sort that got big heads about their projects. He managed to narrow the lot down to those that deemed themselves ‘most important’ in their individual departments.

[i]They[/i] surround the complex one time and suddenly everyone starts to take those classic APEX ‘expendability’ rumors seriously. [i]This wasn’t the time.[/i]

[b] “If this botched shit gets brought up tomorrow and our projects get cancelled…”[/b]

[b][color=gray][right] “Are you kidding? Your project is going to get cancelled if they bust open the doors and fucking trash the lower blocks.”[/right][/color][/b]

[b][color=silver] “What about us? I don’t see any of those promised mercs that are getting a portion of the quarterly…”[/color][/b]

[b][color=mediumaquamarine] “Look at where you are.[/color][/b] Gatch gestured to the surprisingly furnished room. A few screens along the wall were lit up with views of the growing crowd. [b][color=mediumaquamarine]“APEX’s presence in the Reclaim Zone is as volatile as it was before I showed up. We’re in a bunch of empty factories.”[/color][/b]

[b] “Just don’t step outside, they tell us… Fantastic…”[/b]

[b][color=silver] “They’ve got more guards around the alleyways than we do...”[/color][/b]

[b][color=gray][right] “What do they want, Gatch? You?”[/right][/color][/b][hr][hr]

The mob amassed via a number of approaching groups, many staggered in their arrivals, but when his entourage showed up on the scene, the crowd seemed to double. Perhaps, though, it was not the number of the protestors that changed the streets, but their purpose. They were masked, and for good reason, but anyone beyond his immediate circle could hardly tell. Any good journalist’s view was blocked by the close conglomerate of operators that surrounded them and whatever improvised and jaggedly sharp tools they opted to lash out with. 

He didn’t need a megaphone, just a transmitter mic blasting to the crowd from an unseen source. 

[color=darkolivegreen][b] “The people of the Reclaim have shouldered the burden of power rerouting for far too long. APEX is a [i]scourge[/i], Gatch, and you are but their puppet. These men and women dare to say it’s time we change who’s pulling the strings.[/b][/color]

And that served as a great signal for the first cocktail thrown. Gatch’s cameras were blinded by the light of flames erupting over the door guards. They braced. One raised his rifle towards the source.

[b] “Wait, man! Wait. We just gotta hold out.”[/b]

[b][color=gray] “They’re going to hit—”[/color][/b]

[b] “Think about what they’ll do… If you fire without support…”[/b]

The Mixologist instinctively shifted the cart back a bit as the fire bottle blew. One loss to the vortex was enough already, but she was already posted up on the opposite sidewalk, fending off the cowardly sorts with cocktails. It wasn’t her first time around this sort of crowd—the angry sort, she meant. They were never quite so unruly [i]and[/i] unmannered.

But that was the job. The crowd stole the show from the [color=#FF30CF]B - A - R[/color] when other projectiles were prepped. She palmed the console the goons had given her just as it started vibrating. Its indicator light flickered on and off for a few moments before one of the internal chambers opened and a vial slipped into her hand. [i]The time to serve[/i], it seemed, [i]grew ever closer…[/i]