The plan was...well, it wasn't simple, but it sort of was.

While the CLF attacked multiple Clone Processing centers to distract the government, the group with the CLF would target one particular one in the region that'd once been New Jersey. The group with the government would offer their services in putting down their own people.

In the center, they'd split up into several groups. One would fight a fake fight, create a massive diversion, and blow up the room where the samples their DNA were being kept in the process. Another group would secure a teleporter pad. That team would teleport out other teams to steal a ship, steal some med tech to teleport to said ship, and steal a medical database. Another team would go to the main command center and hack into the government mainframe to down the sensornet around the planet so they could escape. And Nightwing himself would accompany the clones to upload the harvested memories to the Mother Brains, left unguarded because of the diversionary fighting, and make sure that was all they did.

Meanwhile, there'd be a standing order for all teams to avoid killing other crewmates, and avoid killing guards unless absolutely necessary.

It was a complicated plan. If a single part fouled up, they might find themselves dead, trapped, or worse. But if it worked, it'd work pretty spectacularly and leave them with medtech, a medical database, the clones helped, and possibly a grateful Council depending on how the fight went, because of the ones seemingly aiding the government.

In some worlds, things that were a million-to-one-chance (exactly a million-to-one) by their nature had to work. Let's hope this world is one of them, eh, mission crew?

[ooc: Only comment to threads if it says they are open here. All threads: OPEN. Characters may get injuries up to and including 7 on the Injury Scale (scroll to the bottom). Any higher, and they must ask permission of the plot-runners, just to make sure everyone isn't immobilized without enough people to help move them.]

For the first time since he woke up from slumber on this ship, all that arbitrary time ago, Maridian had managed to walk into a Sensorium that was not currently in use.

Not that he'd ever admit it, but looking on the blank grey void that surrounded him, waiting for his command to read from his thoughts and memories and simulate the environment he bade it to, nostalgia and loneliness crept slowly up from the pit of his stomach, into his chest.

Azeroth was gone. He could return to it only in memory.

Maridian stood and watched, arms folded, as in response to his mental commands, the scene shifted, again, and again, and again.

Falconwing Square, where the paladin had first raised hammer and sword to cleanse... Eversong Woods, still fraught with remnants of the Lich King's march on the Sunwell no matter how hard the Sin'dorei struggled to cleanse it. The Ghostlands, where his blade and valor had helped earn the blood elves a place in the Horde. Ashenvale, where he had first encountered demon lords plotting malice, and stood before the monument to Grom Hellscream. ..

The Plaguelands, Silithis, Hellfire Peninsula, Nagrand. Karazhan, Zul'Aman. The Isle of Quel'danas. Howling Fjord, Dragonblight, Icecrown Citadel, the Frozen Throne.

Memory after memory flashed through the sensorium, to fade a moment later. A reminder of what was lost.