[b]Orange:[/b] The information barrier has crossed. There’s been time to process. Now there’s life in your partners again. “[i]Was[/i]?” Fiona moves to point to the TV, but has [i]just[/i] enough sense of internalized OPSEC to ‘fucking not’, “[i]Is[/i]. This is still happening?” “This is happening.” Crystal echoes, under her breath. “Okay, so nobody got hurt.” Fiona stresses. “Or at least, you were careful enough that they still can’t account for anyone.” “That rainbow…” Crystal trails off, running a finger around the rim of a mug. “How long? Did this take. How long have you known about… Goat? To do something like this.” Crystal stares into her mug, the trim white fur on her fingertip picking up the surreal pigment of her drink. “Whatever something like this could even mean.” “And you’d tell us? You’d do something like, like this. And you’d want to let us in on it? Like, honestly?” Fiona is doing everything, [i]everything[/i] she can to keep her voice conversational. Something that doesn’t get picked up in the crowd of people focused on the television. And Crystal? Crystal fingerpaints her napkin with the vibrant pigments from her drink. She outlines a roaring shape with wings, the pearlescent colours shifting as the separating emulsion comes off her fingertip in its layers. She puts careful attention on the eyes, when the hue turns bright orange. Bright, and piercing, and like they’re staring off the thin paper. [b]Flood:[/b] If they still had their grenade launcher, they would have the defolient they needed to clear a line of sight for the fire teams. But you took that from them.. If they still had their armored vehicle, they would have had the means to drive you into unfavourable terrain. But you took that from them. If they still had clear sightlines and dry air, they would have a clear shot for their heavily electrified coilgun to do its work from its vantage point. But you took that from them. Now they have to come for you by foot, in powered armor meant for an infantryman to count as a weapons platform in their own right. They are meant for the urban combat and cityscape that defines their bloody bread and butter. They are the bleeding edge of future tech, and mud is archaic. But you are a student of history, and you know that asymmetrical warfare does not always favour the high ground. They’re coming for you, all of you. You still need to run. But you can outrun them for now, for two and a half minutes. One fires blind, in frustration, but only a short report to put the fear into you. But it is the casting of a pillar of salt, and it scatters in so much air. They can’t come at you like that. There are still farmers, still livestock, still property too dear for their discretionary spending. Because They Are A [i]Business[/i] And It Always Comes Down To [b]Orange:[/b] An email. [i]It’s done. The merchant dispute cleared. Chase Black not just cancelled, their previous payment revoked. Most I could do as the accountant. Don’t happen to know any good brain surgeons, do you? Been smelling burned toast this whole five minutes, and I just forgot my first kiss[/i]. Rudy’s been kissed? [i]Wild[/i]. [i]Hate to be vague when trust was on the line, but that only worked because I had to truly believe that, at that point, I wasn’t moving the needle either way. That wouldn’t work if I believed I made a difference. But now I’m starting to wonder, and it’s starting to really [/i]fucking[i] hurt. So please tell me I’m right, and that wouldn’t have changed a goddamn thing in the end. Just sped up the inevitable, right?[/i] [i]You had this, didn’t you?[/i] [b]Waffle and Flood: You are now safe to rendezvous at the handoff point.[/b]