[color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 2: 06:15:42 Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery, Novy Jork, Capital Province, Republic of Polavia [/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color] Moving in, the cardboard box of the warehouse eventually giving way to the actual stores of vodka. Row after row of crates of vodka bottles, all pristine, beautiful, white, ethanol-rich gold, well, on the far side of the door that Borys had opened up. [quote] He picked himself up after checking his surroundings, dusting himself off and checking that the wine bottle hadn’t broken in the fall before walking over to the door, placing a hand on the crash bar and pushing the door open, hoping it wasn’t wired to an alarm. “You said something about entering my dreams, Butterfly?” He shot Oksana a grin, gesturing into the bottling plant as he waited for the rest of the team to enter. “Step right in, don’t be shy.” [/quote] Oksana cracked an incredibly rare smirk, the butterfly-tattooed arm of the Polavian resting an arm against hers. "Check you haven't damaged your head. I think you are already there." She crassly remarked, Vityaz in other hand as she walked on through, checking the office, looking around for anything useful, paperwork, reasons for why they were here. But nothing. This was just an admin office, and at this time of morning, nothing was going on. But the frontage beyond it was staggering. Looking on at the world of endless bottles of vodka, stationary on the line. "Oh....wow." Oksana added, the operation pristine. It went from grim and horrid to modern, cutting edge, even. A vodka factory would seem like an easy place to cut money, but Polavian Standard was world-class. And world class vodka demanded a production that met world demand. Felix paced forwards, adjusting his hat, the Libolian peeking through the next door as he opened it, Felix moving on the catwalk, moving down stairs and towards the end of the production process. The olive tac-hoodie wearing, gazelle-skull attached operator not taking the time to take it in, but provide overwatch. He contrasted to Oksana, whose sage green shirt and Ghillie (now rolled off her head and off her arms so it didn't snag) with her stubby green hat was following, long SVU on her back, shorter SMG in hand. "Up ahead. Looks like we have hostiles." Oksana mentioned, taking a knee behind a leg of machinery, the quiet suggesting no hostiles here yet. "Any way to route around them? I'd prefer not to take on more PSA." Felix replied, as Oksana, shrugged with a lack of options she could see in the killzone in the corridor ahead of them. "Negative. Every time I run forwards, they spot me. It's like they're looking into the other side of the plant. Where the distillery is." Oksana replied, Felix using that to inform his tactical brief. "Splendid. I got lights high, and another cabin ahead. Looks like a party. May as well go aggressive. Hit them before they hit us. Then keep moving to the exit." Felix replied, rifle from point to shoulder, looking over shoulder, keeping to a wall filled with vodka bottles. "Silas, on me, we'll take the high road. Borys, Rowan, Roxie, take the cabin ahead." Oksana turned to Silas. "One for you then. If you want to see inside, this might help. You'll be able to seer." She offered the medic the binoculars, knowing the two hadn't really interacted, but then again, the Libolian had been so far, a bulwark to the team in how he held them up. On that note, they split up, and moved forwards, getting ready to spring the trap on the PSA, rather than vice-versa. [hr] Felix kept a low profile, 417 poking up as he checked the maga-imbued 7.62 rounds, cradling position on the catwalk, holding low against bottles of vodka that were stationary on the factory line. "Okay. Clear." Felix added, keeping point ahead of the team's medic, keeping his feet careful on the metal, the place claustraphobic underneath more pumps and machinery. Looking to Silas, Felix stacked up against the door of the SCADA control office, the large office overlooking the entire bottling operation. The machinery suddenly erupted into life, as bottles moved along. It was like a series of giant grabs moved along with empty glass bottles at the rate of hundreds a minute, each in cradles, being injected with vodka at the far side where the distillery was set up, then sealed via an automated process that stamped a lid in. This was incredible. Polavia invested in robotics? Since when? He expected someone to be at the far end of the line, but the bottles instead were being sent into an automated batching system lower down, that was supported by workers that were moving down the stairs, out of sight. "Okay. This, this is a flashbang that really messes with things." He started, peeling it out, the Holy Flashbang imbued in a brilliant, beautiful purple across its patterned, knurled cross section. "Switches people in place if they're in zone. Do not look at it when it goes off, or you will switch positions with someone in that room. Lot more people in there than there are us from what I can hear. Doesn't sound like workers." Felix added, pin pulled, clutched tight in hand, ready to hurl hard through a crack in the door once he bust the lock open. "Can you tell me how many there are inside, you got an angle or can you see what happens if I kick this door in? Then we shotty them up." Felix asked, guessing the vessel that Roxie had offered Silas, if he had chosen to take it, might help. The Libolian switched to the shotgun on the 417, the Masterkey able to live up to that if he kicked this door in, and the KS23 from Silas able to support. Said masterkey would open more than hearts and minds, using regular 00 buckshot over mana-enfused shells for this particular party. --- Lower down, that was where Rowan, Borys and Oksana could see bottles be transported along, full of vodka, into another cabin where a shift of workers were in the next cabin across from theirs, dutifully pulling them into cardboard boxes, clinking loudly. Civies. A small shift for the morning, but the main noise was PSA soldiers in the cabin, a fairly large facility where the bottles were QA'd and even one of them was yelling as he shotgunned a bottle for himself. "Okay, sit tight." She said, PP-19 in hand, kneeling and seering, eyes going all off colour, imagining it. [i][u]She stood inside and ran. Bullets flew. She could see them all. A guy with a armoured up helmet. Another one with a standard Uley. All carrying AK-74Us. She got filled with rounds, and her dying look was watching Rowan's head get splattered with a shotgun round.[/u][/i] Roxie stopped seeing. And started believing. "Guy with an armoured helm left, he's got a shotgun." Oksana called out. "Okay. Rowan, think you can cast something to haze them? I can see if it'll work. Perks of sight." Oksana commented, knowing Rowan would be confused. "Tell me your plan and I'll see it. Then we execute it." Oksana added, looking to Borys, tapping him on the shoulder. "Every scenario I see though, this drunk fuck doesn't die though. Recommend we use him as a pointman. And fill him with enough booze to take on a tank." Oksana chuckled, looking to him as she adjusted her hat, checking her mag, before sliding it back in, riffing behind him, ready to kick the door in on Rowan's command (as she called it) and follow Borys. [hr] Meanwhile, inside of the block that Upswing would be sitting inside of, yelling could be heard. Someone had rumbled him. Who? It was hard to say. But, it looked like things were about to get active. And that he might have to find a way to quietly get away. He would be good at covering his tracks, of course, but the PSA had a way of finding out where people were. Some thought telepathy, even if that was literally possible, but more often than not, was just solid local intelligence. And now, he had choices to make. But they were up against an illusionist. So their odds were poor.