[color=lightgreen][center][h3][i][b]Day 2: 06:25:01 Polavian Standard Vodka Distillery, Novy Jork, Capital Province, Republic of Polavia [/b][/i][/h3][/center][/color] [quote]Ahead the control room. Movement inside. He waits on Felix, "Windows and doors...we can try a dynamic entry, one of us take a window the other shoulders the door?" Below the shield soldiers. Silas leans over the gantry points down and peppers some of the shield-men below with the big 23mm, 6 guage shotgun, "I want to get very drunk after all this is over!" He growls, then readies back up on the door, dodging fire from below.[/quote] Felix nodded, as close to a growl as he could muster. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on it!" Felix turned, the ginger-haired soldier turning into a lion as he led on that movement and immedately lept onto the gantry and around through window. Silas might have expected he would crawl into position, but with a lion, it took a lot less. As Silas would take the door, Felix was already chewing on the arm of someone, before releasing and no longer playing with his food, taking a solid bite of the man's neck, before shifting out and spitting a massive lump out of hs "Urgh." Felix added, looking to the SCADA controls of the production line. "Oh. We should stop this." Felix added, kicking aside the half-neckless guy in the way on the console, and keying in the controls for the machinery, finding the override, and the stop button for the whole production. No longer were empty glass bottles being poured vodka into from the gigantic distillery tank, with a gigantic press working to seal and complete the lid, nor was a label being printed and slapped onto the side of each, nor was the export labelling either being made. It all halted, and on the other side, down below, the bottles stopped moving. [hr] With Rowan melting shields and Borys literally appearing out of them, short work was made out of the PSA shield goons. Borys was on the wrong side, acid melted their cover, and Oksana could basically spray into them like they were at a target range. Even with 9mm, she could tear through, yelling swears as she dumped an entire mag into two of them, acid on shield and Borys with a baseball bat (and collecting bullets) working to clear them out. It was getting messy, as a goon fell in glass and the clink was loud, followed by the fire alarm. [quote] Rowan gave an evil cackle as she let loose with another potion. “Don’t tell me how to witch! If I wanted rules I would go to church!” Rowan winced as she heard a PSA guard fall into a conveyor belt full of bottles with the loud crash of glass accompanying the now blaring fire alarm. “That was not my fault, Borys!” [/quote] "Glassed his ass, Rowan!" Roxie called, liking her new Western friend a lot. She was good fun, and if they weren't killing people, Roxie had a feeling that Rowan would be a great time to get really, really drunk with. An agent of chaos, creating that from order. Another magazine, and a couple more flanking PSA troops didn't last long either as Roxie held the flank, firing down from one gantry to the others while Rowan and Borys pulled shenanigans. It didn't take long to clear them up, and with a few more bursts, Oksana had slung her PP-19 in exchange for an AKS-74U, scavenging a few mags off the last dead PSA goon that she managed to get a flank on, literally seeing that he was moving from cover to cover before he had. Make do, and mend. Moving through the production line, the catwalks and the metal walkways were beginning to end as they were headed towards the start of the process. Towards where the visitor centre was, and the massive pile of sugar cane and rye grains sat in a remarkably clean arrangement before they would be loaded into the distilling units. Vodka was often made of many, many different things, but Polavian Standard was a classic, vintage, bespoke product that didn't fuck around with cherry, or flavours- that was left to the mixologists that played with them in bars. A vodka that was world-renowned for being exceptional in quality, so having a firefight in their production line was surreal to anyone who had ever sent a shot down their gullet. It was there that Felix headed down a metal stairset, 417 held at cant as Oksana met him, the two fireteams reunited once more, the production heading towards massive distilling vats, and what looked like a observation point. "Looks like we have a window of time to leave." Felix suggested, as Oksana pointed forwards to the tour centre's viewpoint. "Yes. A window. Idiot." She replied, pointing at said window, at the end of the gantry, with a small gap between it. Picking up a nearby vodka bottle left off the start of the production line, she threw it, smashing it to bits. That was their portal out of the factory complex, and instead of going down into the loading warehouse, a chance to escape through a visitor centre. "Window open." Oksana dryly smiled, the only thing she had left now, in her arsenal apart from some dead goon's pinewood-furnished AK and the ability to see a few seconds into people's bad decisions, was sarcasm. "Fine." Felix sighed with a certain sigh, just absolutely fucking done, looking at Borys with a look of "don't say anything, you prick", as with it, they could move through this bit of the factory where visitors could actually look in. With a leap forwards, Felix clambered up the side of the railing and leapt into the window, trying to avoid shards of glass, offering a hand to Oksana who lept next, the two covering the others as they came inside, and The Story of Vodka was now a part of what they had seemingly entered. Felix didn't really have time for education, but he did think it was about time they got the hell out of here. [hr] The team moving forwards, they were now in half-factory, half museum, from old casks to the factory line still being a door away. From one of those lines, a group of hostiles emerged, forcing the team into cover. Felix ducking behind at least a 100 year old distillery tank, Oksana behind a metal conveyor, bullets flew as the PSA militants swore at the group. Which was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Upswing killing a whole group into a gas grenade made a scene, suddenly eliminating the threat that the team was facing, all of them dropping dead in a haze of purple, with a armoured up, ex-spy walking through in a shimmery, hazy sort of look. The group, and Upswing were suddenly at odds when the pink-purple-punk like smoke cleared, revealing the brooding looking, ex DSR Intelligence looking figure. He wasn't dressed up like Felix, a soldier, nor Oksana, part-bush, all seer. In the tour centre, they weren't friends, even if the enemy of their enemy seemed to be a convenient help. Oksana looked with steely eyes, her AKS-74 raised still, knowing he had Craft. With something like that, and a gas mask on killing PSA, he wasn't here for a shot of vodka with the lads and lasses of the team. "You're not with them. Who are you?" She noted, keeping a rifle pointed direct at him, the closest to him. She would see all of it coming. She'd be faster than him if he tried something. Or at least, whatever illusion of him he projected. Felix was nicer. "Holy shit. Cal." Felix chuckled, his own rifle high. "Been a while. Given you're not invisible. I guess you're not here to kill us?" Felix added, pointing the 417 down, the capabilities of Upswing maybe not known by the entire team, beyond rumour, but known by Felix. As a Team Lead, he'd know other people, particularly casters in Reactor. And Upswing was one such character. He kept hand to rifle, ready anyway.... Until the far end of the room suddenly was opened up by the sound of the rocket propelled grenade, blowing apart the entire wall, as concrete and wood crumbled, revealing another figure that nobody expected deciding to interrupt this little arrangement. As the Adidas wearing, dark-eyed Warlock, her boots clattering on concrete, stepping over a few bodies, a few other balaclava-wearing mooks next to her, AKS-74Us raised, was in view. She barked at her own people, let alone the team likely wondering who to shoot. "Comrades, weapons down." She simply announced, walking forwards, looking at them. "You interrupted a business meeting. I will interrupt yours. Including you, Borys Skala. Alcohol poisoning hasn't gotten you yet." "Didn't know it was business." Felix replied, Upswing between them in crossfire, all parties holding guns at each other. She knew Borys. That was already a bad sign. Guns at each other was worse. Like some really fucked up Mexican Standoff. "Well, causing me so much trouble seems to make it mine." She had the sound of a haggrid old woman, despite the fact that beyond the shade of the hood, she looked Borys's age too. Felix kept his rifle raised, almost a growl coming from his throat. Oksana realised this was a three way standoff. Them, Upswing, whoever this woman was. Until Oksana piped up. Looks like she knew her too. "Yelenka. You honestly think he'll pay?" Oksana asked, recognising her. Yelena Strulovich. Former PSA Lieutenant. All round bitch. Last Oksana heard, she was dead, but then again, Polavia seemed to be killing any of those rumours of late. "Are you being paid? And you hired Borys?" Yelena replied, as if she was almost asking the whole team. Oksana sighed, shaking her head. "No! But, I'm trying very hard to survive and you are not helping! Fuck, you think we want this?" She replied, with a Slavic dryness to it, almost something that could be funny that could be taken seriously, but was just pure, dry sarcasm. There was almost a quiet in the standoff, Oksana taking a moment to break that silence. "You and your.....dogs should get out of the way. Whatever the fuck you're planning, we don't care. We just want to get the fuck out of here and leave." Oksana replied, hinting she knew something. Felix looked to her, wondering why Oksana, not him, was taking the lead. But she knew him, so fuck it, why not. "I don't think you can. You killed a lot of my men. And your lion killed Olygarkov. He was a good man." Yelenka replied, the black robe Adidas like a dryrobe, a bandolier and a kevlar vest on, in Adidas print. She had black hair, and looked not pretty, but like she also had an alcohol problem too. "He was an asshole! Dude was more corrupt than a necromancer bringing back loan sharks!" Oksana yelled back, the scene at the village reinforcing just what the rumours confirmed. A yes-man who was willing to commit to some seriously questionable shit. Who was eaten by Felix. Not a bad outcome, all things considered. Which Yelena seemed to agree with. "Okay, he was a greedy asshole, but it doesn't change the fact your cat went through him like a kielbasa! So give him and Rowan over and we'll be done!" Yelenka yelled back, revealing almost a bit of her face as she stepped in light, the exhibit she was standing next to funnily enough, a history of Polavian drinking culture. "No chance." "Enough. I'm done with your shit. And whoever....you are. You came for Rowan Morgana too....and brought her to me. I want her first. If you won't give her up, I'll take her in pieces." Yelenka replied, putting hand away from rifle, and to air, looking at Upshot and Borys in particular. And with it, she seemed to summon what seemed to be a pack of ghost dogs, before Felix lined fire at her, before Yelenka dived into cover and her goons sprayed fire down range. "You're that kind of warlock! Pizdets!" Oksana yelled, watching as Yelenka was out of Felix's view and it was clear she seemed to have the craft that allowed her to pull in a set stray ghost dogs and to blink her way into cover. Even Oksana was struggling to keep up with her, but it was clear she couldn't move forwards. Fucking warlocks. Felix was not having much fun either. A cat person against dogs wasn't ideal, but, it was what it was. The warlock flanked, and whilst she was not alone, she retreated, letting her goons and her dogs do the work. They weren't beautiful, nice pets, they looked like rabid strays, the kind of dogs that she was terrified of as kids. Dogs had different connotations in Polavia- rather than the cute pets of the DSR and Liboli, they were often left to their own devices and no doubt Yelenka had some trauma associated with one, as roving bands of strays were not friendly to people. Not exactly the most pleasant of memories, but nobody with Craft ever did. Sometimes, Oksana wondered how the fuck you got your craft, but that thought was arrested by her having to unload half a magazine into a ghoulish looking mutt that ran up the steps around a factory display to her, she didn't want to know, but it was what it was. "Shit, Felix, plan?!" Oksana barked, laying out one of the men as she moved "Fuck knows, we need to leave! Now! Upswing, you with us, or you here to kill Rowan? There's a queue for all of us, make your call now if you're gonna do it, cos I'm so fucking done with this shithole! No offense, Borys!" Felix yelled, spraying rounds down range, pulling Upswing into cover from where he'd been, looking the DSR native in the eyes, his wild, lion like eyes coming back out, as Oksana kept up suppressing fire. "There's an emergency exit there, Felix how many dogs is she sending at us?!" Oksana yelled back, the dog barking as she felt felt her inner animal lover was being tortured right now. This was awful! How the fuck did someone have a craft this bad? This was like, worse than any nightmare he was in, even as a feline shapeshifter himself, what on earth was fucking wrong with Yelena? The team had a chance to take out the rabid dogs, the goons being sent by Yelena, but she was taunting them the entire way. The dogs were of course, phasing out the moment a cast hit them, but the damage felt very lethal. "Feast on them! They're nothing but food!" She cackled, as suddenly, the museum of vodka was turned into a warzone. With cover in place, Felix used a copycat to deceive one of the ghoulish dogs, but there were far too many. This was not an easy fight at all, not unless someone had a creative idea, or at the least, someone took the initiative to get them the hell out of here.