[center][b][h1][color=#44F03E]𝔽[/color][color=#42E93C]𝕦[/color][color=#40E33A]π•₯[/color][color=#3EDD39]π•š[/color][color=#3DD737]𝕝[/color][color=#3BD136]π•š[/color][color=#39CB34]π•₯[/color][color=#38C532]π•ͺ[/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]π•ž[/color][color=#1C6419]𝕖[/color][/h1][/b][/center] [center][hider=Yo, pass me the extra dimension][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-GPvmpU_kU[/youtube][/hider][/center] [color=orchid][b] β€œThey’re all like this…” β€œThat’s why we're here.” β€œOr there.” β€œAround.” β€œEverywhere.” β€œWatching...”[/b][/color] [color=#ffdf12][b][i]ℍ𝕒𝕣π•₯ π•„π•–π••π•šπ•’ β„‚π• π•Ÿπ•˜π•π• π•žπ•–π•£π•’π•₯𝕖 π•‹π•¨π•šπ•Ÿ β„‚π•šπ•₯π•ͺ π•Šπ•‘π•£π•’π•¨π•[/i][/b][/color] [color=green]>>> …[/color] [i][color=#ffdf12] β€œFire in the streetsβ€”more than usual even. It seems the power struggle between the two megaregions at the northwestern edge of America are growing worse by the day. Another Cipher Broadcast Tower on the contested border between the Portland and Seattle regions has been hijacked and is currently under hostile control of the infamous Portland… Uh… Group...”[/color][/i][hr][hr] [h3][color=black][s]𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒π•₯𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕑𝕠𝕣𝕒π•₯𝕖 β„€π• π•Ÿπ•–[/s]"𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕝𝕒π•ͺπ•˜π•£π• π•¦π•Ÿπ••"[/color][/h3][color=008000][b]β„π•–π•”π•π•’π•šπ•ž β„€π• π•Ÿπ•–, π•Šπ• π•¦π•₯𝕙 β„‚π•šπ•₯π•ͺ π•Šπ•‘π•£π•’π•¨π•[/b] [b]π”Έπ•‘π•£π•šπ• πŸšπ•Ÿπ••, 𝟚𝟘𝟞𝟝 :: π•†π•Ÿπ•– 𝕕𝕒π•ͺ 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕖 β„π•–π•”π•π•’π•šπ•ž β„€π• π•Ÿπ•– 𝕕𝕖𝕓𝕒π•₯𝕖[/b] [b] [πŸœπ”» β„‚β„π”Όπ•Šπ•Š] π•ƒπ• π•’π••π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜...[/b][/color] [i]A deal’s a dealβ€”or is it?[/i] It wasn’t her best work, but that was about all they had to go off of. That, and a set of poorly-ciphered coordinates, clearly encoded by Serena herself on a sheet of scrap paper that the β€˜campaign manager’ had uploaded and sent to everyone’s communication codes. It had to be the spotβ€”hidden away in the greater corporate zone at the Reclaim’s edge. Desolate. Destitute. There was hardly anything left. A passing truck of mercs skidded by, one of them spinning about on the heavy turret mounted on its back. Off to glass another near-identical group batting for the other team, most likely. It takes a bit of maneuvering to evade their gaze, but that was the spot for sure. It looked just like every other withered box-shaped building in the zone. Nevertheless the complex sets of sliding metal doors, the few paths in and outβ€”they had to indicate that the Pirate captain had chosen the building for a reason… If she had chosen it at all. Droplets of water echoed as they impacted the concrete, creeping from exposed pipes and deposits of acid rain leaking in, but the warehouse was otherwise dead silent. Serena led her crew into the main room which had to be the size of a few basketball courts. Shelving units and the behemoth remnants of some sort of machine shop β€˜uglied up the place’, but the floor was a bit too pristine. No dust. No rubble. No glass. Petrukov used her lighter to ignite three separate [i]Raw Toxics[/i] between her lips, letting the smoke creep up towards the distant rafters and exposed ventilation shafts. [color=black][b] β€œAlright folks,”[/b][/color] Petrukov started.[color=black][b] β€œMake yourselves at home. This is our playground for the next… length of time.”[/b][/color] [b] β€œMiss Petrukov.”[/b] The burly man stepped up alongside his client, stretching his oversized muscles and holding out a gun that was severely too small for his massive goon hand. The Pirate Queen smiled, admiring not the man himself but the now iconic black flag rigged up to a staff on his back. It was comical. It was absurd. It was totally on brand. [b] β€œGive it a test. Make sure you know you can—”[/b] A series of blasts echoed endlessly off the tin walls. Serena hammered the trigger wildly, aiming at every interesting object down-range until the magazine was empty. The pangs of 9mm ricocheting off of every surface around them was like an anthemβ€”a cause for concern, but also an anthem. She blew at the tip of the non-smoking gun. [color=black][b] β€œThanks Bannerlord, but I’mma need another clip for the gat. And also the payload, chief.”[/b][/color] Bannerlord fumbled around at his own sidearm to grab a spare magazine of ammunition. Serena, in the meantime, started posing with her new piece and the steel briefcase, barrel leveled against the shadows at the outer edge or haphazardly flicked towards catwalks and side doors, but something stopped her, caused her face to flush and her gun arm to waver. [b] β€œThey’ll be here any minute.”[/b] [color=black][b] β€œFuck… I forgot the most important thing. Fuck,”[/b][/color] she repeated. Again and again.[color=black][b] β€œWe forgot the—”[/b][/color] [b] β€œBoombox?”[/b] Once again, Serena From The Past had thought of everything. Once again, the Bannerlord’s supply cart was fully stocked and strapped with every piece of kit they needed and extra snacks. The entire situation was perfectly coordinated, endlessly complex. She, the queenpin, a boss playing some extradimensional chess game. Serena took up position in the center of the room and hammered down the play button with her foot. [color=black][b] β€œYo-ho-ho.”[/b][/color]