Everyone was ready to proceed. BNC was still in the matrix world, gather intel, providing a constant uplink of information to the AR map overlayed to the commlinks and tactical glasses of the team if they wore them. Positions of drones as they moved about the trainyard, and an alarming stillness in the all important location of Wasteland's team. Even their drone swarm seemed inactive, still, silent. The trainyard was... an area unlike any raid one had ever undertaken. Noise wasn't really an issue. The screeching of metal and thick rumbling of train engines made sure that even the most inept of sneaking souls could make it through here without making so much as a peep that someone might hear accidentally. In exchange, the visual cover *moved* with the times, almost like the trainyard had it's own heartbeat and bloodflow. Even 'at rest', one had to make slow footsteps with their backs against the boxcars as they slowly shifted across the yard.
Slobbertooth, as you navigate the last two tracks before actually reaching the old carpark and the middle building to which it is actually attached, something seems off to you about the enviroment. It's... a smell, rather than a visual thing. Something sits ill at ease within your mind until you make the very last train car and then you can see it, as well as smell it. Melted metal. And bullet holes in this box car. Further examination while stepping alongside it reveals a spotty pattern of bullet holes remarkably consistant with what you might expect from a shotgun blast loaded with 00 buckshot. There are four seperate impact areas, but this car is on the move, and could be from just about anywhere on the yard when someone took to the metal with a boomstick.
Torrent, Hoping the trains is much easier for someone of your size, well, compared to a troll that is. While your... larger companion makes for boxcars and otherwise carriages with actual cargo loaded to them, you are able to make use of empty carriages with your lower profile, ducking in behind poles and cargo cranes as they whine and rumble and lift their freight to trains awaiting. One of your footsteps is unsual, you could hear it. Looking down, it's blood. You've just stepped in a pool of blood, against one of the railway lines halfway to your destination door.
Krestov,
http://youtu.be/d08cUCRqjS0?t=40s .Having said that though, you make it to your door of choice without issue.
bnc, You *know* for a fact that helicopter was an Ares Dragon, big heavy chinhook replacement when Ares realised they could massively undercut Boeing in the heavy lift department. But what you also know, is that when you attempted to grasp at it's matrix signal, it slipped away from you, like trying to grab onto a slippery fish. You manage to pull a partial tail number, 6638, before you lose it completely. Additionally, your fast acting mind now no longer restricted by that puny, weak meatbag of yours. You can fix the location of a biomonitor to a commlink of Wasteland's team. The long piercing beeeeeeeeeeeep of a flatline answers the questions as to why all the murderbots are inactive.
Lanazador, is following Torrent as NPC backup for safekeeping when he returns safe and sounds from his RL car accident.
