trans_9 | Gently, but with undeniable will divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. (Pt. 5: Chances)

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Gently, but with undeniable will divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. (Pt. 5: Chances)

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zouichi moved through the hallways purposefully, not particularly making an effort to make eye contact with those they encountered, but not avoiding it, either. He'd already memorized the floorplan (of each floor! Golly, semi-photographic memory sure was handy); the only thing to do now was make sure they didn't get caught setting up to boost the equipment.

As he passed a nearby workstation, he nabbed an official-looking clipboard and pen, scribbling illegible doctor-notes on it, talking slightly under his breath to Howard.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" he says in a fairly unconvincing voice. "We don't have dinosaurs chasing after us and we don't have brainwashed Anwei trying to brain people with a giant bra. This is just get in, get out. I'd say we're doing pretty good."

Except for the fact where they're on a planet where people will pretend you're a perfect stranger then drag out your life story to cut you down, that is.

Howard assumes Zou's got the floorplans figured out, following a little off to the inside wall of the hallway so he's a bit harder to get a good look at. "Let's find instruction manuals first. If we're gonna reverse-engineer things, those'll be lightweight and easy enough to stuff in a labcoat. Then medicine samples. That way if we don't have time for the big machines we can still come back with something."

He frowned slightly. "Uh, because a clone girl just used a part of your past I'm assuming you never actually told anyone about to put the whammy on you? Not that that seems at all out of the ordinary on this rock."

At least Howard was being a little more forthcoming. Sarcasm was a sign of Howard-health.

Zouichi glanced at him. "You're planning to stuff everything in your coat? Let's head to the west wing; there's an ancillary medical reference library on that side. Should have light foot traffic, and I bet 'ancillary' means 'all those long, boring instruction manuals no one ever has time to read'.

"Oh. Yeah. That. Total highlight of this little vacation. A+, would get put down by a two year-old again." He winces, but at least he's put it aside enough that he can be sardonic about it. Besides, he's with Zouichi. Sarcasm and deflection is how they roll.

Besides, Zouichi knows him well enough to catch that there's a good reason Howard never told anyone about it, and doesn't want to sit around talking about it.

Howard isn't quite sure what 'ancillary' means, so he's just going to go with the definition Zouichi provides. "No, just the small stuff. The big stuff we're going to have to actually see before we can figure out how to boost it. Grab that trash can, by the way. We need wheels," he says, nodding towards a janitor's cart that's parked outside a work area.

"I especially liked being held down and depowered by a 5,000 year old accountant who stuck a bar code on my head. That was aces." Zouichi rubbed his temple with one hand. "I don't know why they keep sending me on missions with all this talking. Aren't there any worlds suffering from a desperate need of explosions or something?"

"Yes, it's not going to look at all suspicious to have a doctor pushing a janitor's cart covered with medical supplies."

He ducks into a closet instead, grabbing two of what look like large professor's attache cases and handing one to Howard.

"A 5,000 year-old double agent accountant, even. Christ, Galilee. Fun for the whole freaking family." He shakes his head. "Was it just me or was there a huge vibe of 'I say I don't expect your forgiveness, but forgive me anyway' to that jerk?"

God, screw you, Kanner.

"Oh yeah, the janitor's cart is suspicious but the coil rifle is just a really big hypodermic needle." He takes the attache, rolling his eyes. "Briefcases? Really? Did you just watch Mission Impossible or something?"

"His glasses were dumb," Zouichi said, rather maliciously. The comment really was uncalled for ~~even if Kanner had been wearing dumb hipster glasses get off my lawn.~~

Just as Zouichi was about to respond, a uniformed, brusque-looking man with slicked-back hair glanced at them. He'd been coming down the opposite side of the hallway, but now he stopped, frowned, then spoke up.

"You two, what are you doing here? Where are your clearances?"

"His face was dumb," Howard adds, also maliciously. As much as Harriet made a verbal knife and twisted it on him, some small part of him does acknowledge that he'd baited her. Kanner, on the other hand, had not only strapped Zou down and stamped him, but ha then had the gall to show his face and give some paltry 'I only did what I had to' whiny speech about not expecting forgiveness but can you do this favor for me anyway?

Basically, the CLF is full of winners and Howard wants to stick all the rattlesnakes in their mailboxes.

Howard comes to a stop. What tipped this guy off, the briefcases, the gigantic goddamn coil gun, or the fact that Howard looks like he's more suited to be playing Gameboy under a school desk than walking around in a hospital uniform?

He really hopes Zouichi planned for this. He starts to pull his ID out of his labcoat.

Hey, that coil gun folded! It wasn't at all suspicious! Okay, it was suspicious, but only in the way a large, stainless steel briefcase-looking object strapped to a medical professional who looked like he should be in a J-Rock band was suspicious.

Zouichi pulled his ID out of his coat in one smooth motion; he'd been ready to be challenged since they'd first set foot in here. This guy wasn't a clone, so he kept his gaze politely lowered, giving the man the alias printed on the ID.

"Kenzo Tenma, sir. I usually work in the neurosurgery branch, but Dr. Heinemann asked me to show one of the interns a tour of the hospital."

Howard takes a deft look at his ID as he presents it. Thankfully there isn't a picture, because "Johan Liebert" sounds pretty blonde.

"He's taking me to see the medical library!" he says with the enthusiasm one would expect from a young upstart surrounding by shiny gadgets and amazing facilities.

The man looked almost comically suspicious; just their luck that this guy had a work ethic. He scrutinized both IDs, frowning, as his hand slowly reached behind him for the weapon holstered at his side --

Zouichi glanced down the hallway to see if anyone was coming, then gave the man a quick, calculated blow with the edge of one hand to the back of his neck. The guard crumpled instantly. He caught the man, then started dragging his prone body backward. "Hurry," he said to Howard in a low voice. "There should be some lockers back here. Let's stuff this jerk in one of them and go."

"Give me a second," Howard says, taking the guy's gun (and his wallet, ring and security pass while he's at it - maybe they won't need those lockpicks after all). "Okay, let's do it."

They may have lost some time, depending on how long this guy's out and how long it'll take him to get some backup. "Alright, let's move. Forget the medical library, database-hackers are probably on that, let's sweep some floors with these stickers."

Howard, did you take that man's wedding ring? Oh, whatever. Zouichi was pretty sure this guy should be out for a couple hours (which, by the way, is super bad for you). He hoisted the man into some poor resident's possessions locker, paused, then put the bag he'd picked up earlier over the man's head.

Much better.

Then he shut the locker and spun the lock. Zouichi nodded to Howard, striding forward with purpose once again. "Let's make our way downstairs. I think there's a ward down there worth a visit."

Also this theme was playing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kXjKz4S5tNU).

Howard can't help but childishly snicker at the bag.

"Burn unit and grafting? Sounds like it could be useful, given that the Ohm shoot space fire and skin's a bitch to grow from start." Nobody's yet explained to him how the Ohm can shoot fire in space. Someone really should someday.

Maybe they can take the whole unit, if they use the sticker right.

They passed two maintenance workers on the stairs as they made their way to the burn ward. Boy, there sure was some big, shiny equipment in here. Zouichi started past a hulking piece of important-looking machinery that actually kind of reminded him of home, all chrome and glass and SCIENCE. He stuck a sticker on it, looking around.

Not too many people around; good.

"Do you even know what that does?" Howard totally doesn't

"So apparently if you stick one of these every fourteen feet, walls, floor and ceiling, you can take a whole room and everything in." Howard checks one of the rooms - holy moo-cows, this room is huge - and is relieved to find it not only bereft of people, but chock-full of technology. Even the hospital beds here seem to be high-tech, although they don't really need those.

"That looks like the regen machine we were briefed on. Sticky that. Wow, I think this machine is to separate dividing cells from dead cells for culturing." He actually has been paying attention to his medic training, and despite having very little science background he's taken a knack to it. The downside is that, with as little information as they have, not only about the CLF but about Stacy's capabilities, it's hard to know what they need.

He does some mental math. "This whole room looks like it's full of stuff we either don't have or don't know how to use back on the ship. Let's sticker it up. It looks like it'll take...maybe eighteen stickers? Nineteen?"

That's a lot of their stickers, but leaves them enough to still have some leeway in what else they take.

"Not for sure. I can only make educated guesses given the materials its made of, its shape, projected wiring connections and power source..." Well, that wasn't really important. Zouichi got to work stickering all the pertinent machinery; by the time he ran out of equipment, he was left with three.

Hmm. Better make it good.

"You about done?"

"I thought that was all Fuyu's job." Reaching the top of some of these machines is hard. And standing on top of the hospital beds is precarious because they roll. "Yeah, I've got five left. Figure we can hit up a medical storage closet and take some stuff in our pockets, too. Or stack stuff in a box if we run low on stickers."

Do these stickers have smilie faces on them? Really? Oh screw you CLF.

Howard's about to point out that they look like the sort of stickers you'd buy for seventy-five cents from a vending machine when security finds them.

He shook his head. "I'm capable of some fairly sophisticated analysis. But she's got access to a larger database than me, and she's more experienced at running support."

"They're over there!" yelled an angry security officer, in extremely cliched fashion complete with pointing. Zouichi paused for an instant, identifying each officer in turn and their relation to the exit. Tricky, but neither side wanted to hurt the oh-so-delicate medical equipment.

Maybe one of the passes they used tripped the alarm. Maybe someone noticed something and said something. Maybe that one jerk they stuffed in the locker didn't have such a great sense of humor. In any case, the guard personnel -- clones, mostly, from the looks of them -- were now firing the same sort of energy weapon Howard had stolen off that one guy.

Zouichi slid his gravity gun out of its holster, snapping off several shots in succession, taking out the lights and several supports in the corridor outside. The ceiling above the corridor simply caved in on itself in response, showering the guards outside with a rain of plaster, wood, tile, and a wheeled gurney that rattled its way down the impromptu new ramp before braining an unfortunate man in the back of the head. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, faintly mumbling about putting the lime in the Coke (or something like that; Zouichi wasn't really paying attention).

"Let's get out of here," Zouichi said, even as he heard guards in the distance sounding the alarm. He tried calling out on the comm, but either the collapse was interfering with the signal, security was interfering with the signal, or the thing was on the fritz.

Whatever. As he strode out into the hallway, he unhooked a small black implement from his belt, pressing a button to reveal a telescoping combat baton.

Which he used to viciously take someone out at the knees.

Bring the noise.

Zouichi may want to bring the noise, but Howard's more of a 'hit the floor' sort of person. No ruckus necessary!

So Howard's plan seems to largely be cower under a hospital bed while Zou fights security guards. Except that, well, there are a lot of them, and while he figures Zouichi may be fine at quickly dispatching a few guards a few guards, the commotion from the collapse will bring in more. Zouichi's more than capable of defending himself from mall-cops with stun guns, but if this place gets overrun, Howard's not exactly equipped with the skills to help much, and they'll lose precious time.

Obviously running is a suitable tactical maneuver, right?

Howard gets up behind the hospital bed and starts pushing it into the hallway, tossing his backpack and med kit onto it. "Heads up, Zou! Let's move!"

Are they going to go surfing on a hospital bed like little kids in a shopping cart? Yes. Yes they are.

Zouichi leapt easily onto the gurney in a single movement, firing his pistol with one hand while re-securing the baton with the other. As one of the guards ran up in pursuit, he snatched the taser off the man's belt, jamming its electrodes into his torso.

"Hey, Howard," he said, eyeing their pursuit. "You trust me, right?"

"Is now really the time for asking this?" Howard yells, jumping up onto the gurney. Oh, crap, they're heading for stairs. Also heading for more guards. Howard's not sure which collision's scarier. "Yes! Yes, I trust you!"

Just remember that he's got a fragile, non-enhanced body with very breakable bones, Zou.

Zouichi holstered his sidearm, reaching back instead for the silvery metal case at his back. He opened it as he brought it forward, snapping the barrel into place to reveal the long, slender form of the Toha Heavy Industries 4000XL coil rifle. The weight felt comforting in his hands. Familiar. He switched the weapon's shell fire to diffuse blast (low yield, of course!), leveled it, aimed. It took a few seconds all in all. Maybe less.

He pulled the trigger.

Immediately, a bright burst of energy fire bloomed into being from the rifle's barrel, blasting a contingent of guards backwards down the hallway and causing the long windows that stretched along the corridor to shatter, sending glass shards flying backward from the force of the blast.

The gurney, in turn, shot forward, taking both Howard and Zouichi along as it barreled into the guards attempting to come up behind them from the stairs. Then they really were surfing, riding the rolling hospital bed down the steps and into the hall of the floor below.

Just then, a set of doors at the end of the hallway opened. A lone medical technician, who had apparently rode the elevator up completely oblivious to the security breach, looked up from his medical text and squeaked.

A moment later, the gurney struck him. Zouichi grabbed at Howard to shield him from the impact of hitting the far well of the elevator.

For a moment, all was quiet as the elevator descended. Then a cheery tune began playing over the speakers (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mD3v1B_aXw0).

The technician moaned faintly.

Oh, so maybe Zouichi did need to bring that coil gun.

Even having been caught, the force of coming to a sudden stop knocks the wind out of Howard. He leans against the doors of the elevator before checking first that the elevator buttons won't be opening the doors anytime soon, then rushing over and checking the technician for injuries. Priorities, people.

"I think he's just got a mild concussion," he says, blinking a flashlight into the poor dude's eye before checking his nametag. "Hey, um. Why exactly do we need instruction manuals when we have one of these?"

You just fired a coil gun in a hospital, Zou. You have no moral high ground.

Zouichi raised an eyebrow, leaning the rifle's barrel against one shoulder. It was probably about thirty or forty pounds.

"You want to kidnap this guy? You serious?"

Hey. That floor was almost empty. And that rifle fire resulted in 0.0 (fatal) injuries, thank you very much.

When Teams Divide

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My, my. Here come the Fuzz.

Flava Flav Was Wrong.

What seems to be the officer, problem?

Tryin' to catch us ridin' dirty.

TACTICAL LOCKER-STUFFING ACTION

WHAT IS THIS A MIDDLE-SCHOOL GYM CLASS

SNEAKING MISSION IS GO

HOLD BACK THE INEVITABLE BADLY-TIMED SNEEZE

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