Kessendra

Rising from her crouched position after the Midnight Shadow has effectively put an end to the enemy resistance in the immediate vicinity, Neassa adjusts the sling of her EE-3 so that her carbine is in an off-side drop position. Experimentally moving her right arm while she looks around to see how the rest of the crew have fared, Neassa winces as she confirms that, while she still has full range of motion in the arm, it is going to be sore as hell.

Nodding to Adrien as he approaches with Anzhelia, Neassa frowns beneath her buy'ce as she sees the prone form of Nahimana, the Qiraash slave that had been with "Red", laying still nearby with her cards scattered all around her. Looking up from the card laying face up nearest Nahimana's right hand, the dark tower depicted on the card disturbing Neassa for some reason even though she cannot think of any reason it should, when Adrien starts laying out his plan, Neassa listens closely, finding no fault in his proposed tactic though she does, given that she and Silas were the primary ones behind the idea of taking the slavers out and Anzhelia seems as though she would unquestioningly and unhesitantly follow Adrien into the bowels of any hell he ventured into, find it amusing that he feels the need to tell everyone they can step away now if they want out.

As she carries plenty of spare power packs for both her heavy blaster and her carbine on her utility belt, Neassa has all she needs for their assault on the slavers complex, and so tells Adrien dryly, I'm ready. Nodding towards Silas' wounded left shoulder, Neassa asks him, You need the doc to look at that before we head out?

Silas continued to dig feverishly at the rubble, even as Adrien began to lay out the next move. Only when he had unearthed a hand, and the arm attached to it, did he stop. He made contact with the arm, and in that moment he received a concentrated image of the being's final moment of pain. He stumbled back a few paces before gathering himself and straightening up to his full height. It was only then that he realized he was in the midst of Neassa, Ade, and Connie. Nodding as Ade laid out the plan, Silas watched as the Midnight Shadow hovered, and then began its descent. He shrugged off Neassa's hand as it neared his shoulder.

Let it bleed. to Ade Very well, Adrien. Your plan is sound. We shall win the day. It is certain. opening the cylinder of his slug thrower. it has one round remaining. Know this: I will have words with your pilot when this is over. His petulant, immature antics cost five... perhaps six innocents their lives. That is not my code. Not how it needed to be done. He adds to the toll. flicking the chamber of the hand-cannon closed, the Preacher slides it back into its holster. I am ready. 

Casting a look of contempt over his shoulder at the cockpit of the 'Shadow, Silas begins to move with Adrien, keeping a respectable distance of half a dozen paces between them. 

Adrien only nodded at Sylas when he said he would have words with Trent, perhaps he had grown cold, perhaps it was because he was in full assault mode but collateral damage happens in situations like these and that's what it was, no more no less. Sylas' words with Trent are his own business and Adrien didn't particularly care who was right or wrong, his people were safe and that was all that mattered. When Trent came up Adrien listened to what he had to say and dismissed him quickly, "We'll take care of it, go gather the others on the ship and be ready for our call." Best not to delay the mission with an unnecessary lecture from Sylas.

He turned and escorted the pilot a few paces away, "And you take care of them." He thought about warning the young pilot about what he had done and what was coming but he wanted him focused on the task at hand, not some increased body count. He patted Trent's back only once and turned to rejoin the others as they waited for Connie to return.

It didn't take long before she was back with a bulging rucksack, five minutes maybe. In that time Adrien walked through the rubble in the surrounding area and found himself an A280C blaster rifle when he rolled over one of the bodies and a couple unspent power packs. The heat of the weapon was burning his hand but oddly enough he didn't feel it. He returned Connie's nod, slung his new rifle over his shoulder, and started walking.

Maintaining watch over the rear of the quartet as they make their way into the soon-to-be-revealed as quite labyrinthian complex laying beyond the still smoldering ruins of the dock-mater's office, the Nagai moves with a quiet, feline, predatory grace as she vigilantly scans the environment for any sign of those they are here to engage. Silas' anger at the deaths of bystanders has made the Nagai more mindful than she might otherwise have been as she searches for danger, though she trusts her instincts and reflexes to prove equal to the challenge of distinguishing foe from non-combatant swiftly enough to prevent her heightened caution from proving a potentially fatal addition to her awareness.

Rolling her neck from side to side as she takes a deep breath and adopts a lower stance while Silas silently counts down the seconds until he opens the door he and Adrien stand on either side of, the Nagai turns slightly so that she has her left side facing Adrien and Silas so that she can watch them, what lays in wait beyond the door, and their six o'clock. The door is pulled open, and a shout from within is heard, though what is actually shouted is anyone's guess as the shout is almost immediately joined by the veritable chorus of blaster fire that is send raining towards the doorway. Their foes have, it would seem, not been idle during the crew's trek towards their lair, and are prepared to defend their operation with all available force.

The Nagai steps to the side, appearing calm despite the blaster bolts that lance through the open doorway or begin peppering or in some cases piercing through the walls around said door, and takes to a knee while sliding the rucksack from a shoulder. "Captain! the Nagai shouts over the continuing symphony of blaster fire and crumbling walls to get Adrien's attention, and then when Adrien turns towards her, holds one of the thermal detonators she had collected from the ship aloft as she asks, Easy way, referring to the detonator, or hard?" referring to taking the enemy on blaster to blaster or hand to hand if necessary. Adrien and Silas, from their vantage points, hopefully had an opportunity to see if there are any non-combatants in the area beyond the door, which will dictate how they must engage their foes . . .

Silas planted his feet at shoulder width and braced himself against the wall, which was almost certainly not created with defending blaster and repeater-fire in mind, as several fist-sized holes appeared -- under his arm, beside his elbow, between his legs, outside his left knee, beside his shoulder. Covered in bits of ruined plaster and wood, Silas chances a quick look to confirm that indeed, Ade is doing only marginally better. Crouching, the other-worlder shoots one leg out to the side in order to quickly transfer weight, and then sneaks a peak out the door, head at waist-height. He is exposed for only the briefest of moments, but the hail of gunfire that accompanies his retreat behind the wall is not a positive sign.

loud enough that Ade (and likely Neassa and Connie) can hear I count 15!

Standing once more, the Preacher draws his hand-cannon. Moving fluidly, he opens himself to the doorway, snaps off his last remaining round, and ends up on Ade's side of the door.

14!

“I-I'm fine, doctor Sacharo...” I say, with way less conviction than I should have. But you know how stupid pride and dignity makes a person, right? Well, me at least. I'm sure those things can be soothing, so I say the smart thing, “Don't even feel the pain any more. Was just surprised.”

I give her a big smile for added convincing, but I drop the shield wall way too fast, and it makes a horribly loud crashing sound. I put my hand on the doctor's to try convincing her some more that I'm really okay. See? Told you; I'm smart. Truth is, I'm still feeling it, like someone had put a burning torch to my skin and left it there to keep on burning. Fun times. But I don't plant to get shot again. Next time I'm ripping out two ends of that crate...only there's not going to be a next time. Captain Draykon wants Shorty...hey, that's me! I'm not that sh...I look up at Sacharo and Ryzer, the two shortest people so far, and I'm much shorter than them. Okay, I'll give the captain that one. I for one am glad that I don't have to get involved in more fighting, but on the other hand, will they be all right? I think Ryzer is quite capable of fighting. She just doesn't show it, but I spent enough time around my father to know a fighter when I see one.

Once Mr. Weston lands the Midnight Shadow I fly right in, keeping low to the ground, but flying's more fun than walking, and faster too. Too bad about my shirt though. That blaster shot gave it a new bare midriff look. I wave at Mr. Weston as I fly by, then land near him. Hmm, what can we salvage around here?

With his cover crumbling around him he was tempted to give the go ahead to use the detonators but instead made eye contact and shook his head to indicate he didn't want to use them, he would leave it to the others to form their own opinions as to why that might be. When Sylas and Neassa made their moves Adrien was also quick to act in rolling out of his position into the door as Neassa drew fire and gave him an opening. He popped up to one knee, took aim with his A280C, and fired, "Nine." He mumbled with a headshot and fired again, "Eight." Shot to the chest, he fired again, "Seven." Another head shot, and another shot rings out, "Six." Shot to the neck, he's not dead yet but he's out of the fight and will be dead soon.

Adrien then shuffles to cover as a few shots are fired in his direction and somehow he didn't get hit, though he could smell the burn of the blaster bolts around him. He sat in cover listening for a moment to pop back out again.

The Preacher stood after being given the all-clear by the diminutive dark-haired woman, brushed himself off and holstered the now-empty slug-thrower. While brushing himself off, his hand came away wet, and he opened his waistcoat to reveal an ugly blaster shot under his ribs. Thankfully, in the heat of the moment, he was able to look at the wound from outside himself, detached, clinically. hmmm. interesting. I hadn't realized I was hit. Pausing for the briefest of moments to silence and centre himself, and drawing on his Inner Strength, he slowed the flow of blood to the wound, and deadened the sensation of pain for a time. It wouldn't last, but it would suffice for the time being. Buttoning up the waistcoat once more and letting his duster drape around himself once more, he drew the hilt of his sword, rolled his left sleeve up to expose the grey, raw-metal gauntlet beneath, and strode over to Neassa's position, giving a nod of readiness.

I'm with you, Neassa. Adrien, let's finish it.