World Tree MUSH

     The Goran Exhibition of Technology! This World is inhabited by a people who prize transparency and public knowledge. Education is freely available to those who have an interest in subject material and political agendas are fully traceable by those who wish to know goings-on. Military advances are often displayed not through parade, but through exhibitions that all may attend and browse. 

     The Open House for the militarized base of research operations has tour guides available and many rooms with many exhibits have terminals set up to fully inform any investigation into the details of the technological marvels being shown off. Newly connected to the World Tree, the human-like people welcome outsiders with the same warmth and are all very happy to trade in information for the benefit of all. 

     Not all visitors share the same altruistic traits. 

     As such, Wolf O'Donnell, Leon Powalski, and Fionn Nichols attended the exhibition under the pretense of casual browsing while Panther Caluroso serves as the eye in the sky to monitor activity through communications while providing a service as central operator. What began as something simple and almost fun shifted slightly as Leon slipped away to target base communications and again turned away even further when the target was found. 

     This was a special design of Exoframe created to adapt to the form of those within, while being able to change shape on the outside to best adapt to situations as needed. By appearance it looked almost like plate armor if plate armor was made with extra thick chunky metal plates and made the wearer nearly a foot taller. Powered by a unique process, this made a distinct target for those that might be able to produce more for military use and utility. 

     The target was found ten minutes ago. 

     Bwwww-WOMP! Bwwww-WOMP! Bwwww-WOMP! 

     An alarm repeats throughout the military base. While this is something that was inevitable, Leon's involvement helped to take down intercommunication lines. The armed force is on alert, the base is full of civilians, and they aren't fully sure what's wrong. Patrols have begun to check things out and civilians are asked, in person when found, to evacuate to a designated area for everyone's safety. 

     These patrols have not yet found the wolf and fennec fox near the exoframe display. O'Donnell, dressed in a less aggressive style (and not open carrying a firearm) yet still sporting a typical leather jacket, muscle shirt, pants, and boots combo, stands nearby keeping an eye on the obvious entrances to the room. 

     "Okay, kiddo. Clock's a ticking. I know it's not your strong suit, but let's see if you can get us access to using this exosuit so we can get you in it. If all else fails, let's at least try to grab the plans for it they conveniently left us."

     Fionn laments time and again that, well, he just doesn't get to be onboarded as staff for the time being. Though he DOES insist on dressing a little nicer. Even if it means shopping the same shop one would to go to a Junior High Prom. Sports jacket, tucked shirt, and smoothed slacks. His hands tuck into his pocket and he rocks on his heels, studying the exosuit and display setup intently. 
     "Hey, I've got it. Maybe next time come on first friday though. These places always spring for a liquor license, and I could do with a fancy night out." 
     With a wish and a sigh, he hops, scoots, and rolls under the display to get to work. "Might be all fancy pants but the fundamentals E.E. logic don't change. ... most of the time. 's a big universe." A small roll of tools pops out across his leg. Well, where to begin...

     Meanwhile, far above, the watchful eye of a Panther in not-as-restricted air space speaks through team comms. "Rrr. I've got chatter throughout emergency services lines. Intercommunications might be locked down, but people can still get personal calls out. It'll take time for reinforcement, but I wouldn't plan on staying too long. From up here it looks like you really kicked a hornet's nest." 

     Every now and then, a voice rings out through the halls connecting the exhibition rooms and footsteps clop about briefly. Since the patrolling soldiers don't know what the issue is and know that civilians are present, their tactics are less sweep and secure and more search and rescue. O'Donnell pats down his pockets before muttering a curse under his breath. No cigarettes or cigars on him. With a grunt, he comments, "Just don't break it. I've got big plans for this adaptive exosuit, even if it's the only one we can get our hands on. I mean, sure, you could probably fix it again if you did, and you'll probably be the one to help me get it going the way I want, but- Just-" 

     Wolf doesn't finish the sentence. He simply grunts again while listening to footsteps that are relatively close on approach around the corner down the nearby hall. "I'm sure you'll do fine." Because, you know, if you don't you'll be disappointing the boss.

     A few things visible as Fionn works: His brush-tail sticking out from under the display foremost, giving a swish, and wiggle in time with the small metallic *clinkclink* and *WHUDS*. On the other side, ears swivel at sounds, conversation on radio and off. There's a pause, a beat as the fennec unrolls one of his tool belts, and tosses a narrow hand-rolled cig to the wolf. "Alright.. c'n still wear this out of here but I'm having to run a lot of bypasses. Lot of failsafes tied into the adaptive module but I can reroute..." Hacking? Probably a no-go, but running a few wires around a mod... that'll probably do. 
     He settles back in quick enough as the visor gives a glow and hum. "Whoever's not going for a joyride is going to have to be smiling pretty for whoever passes our way... 'course I don't mind letting you take credit, sir."

     That hand-rolled cigarette isn't fully noticed at first. O'Donnell is fairly occupied trying to keep one eye on any wandering patrols that show up and the other eye on- Well, Wolf does the best he can given the circumstances. The movement is noticed at the last possible moment and he makes a grab for the item. 

     Fumbling it, it bounces off his knuckles, a rebound grab also fails, and the wrap tumbles downward toward the floor. Rescuing it from testing the five-second rule, a well-placed bump upward from the side of his right boot spins the item end-over-end one last time before fingers close around it. Well. It's a little bent now. It finds a place between Wolf's thin lips anyway before ignition is applied to it. 

     "Pretty sure I have a trustworthy face. Don't I?" A minor moment of pausing to flash his best grin follows; sadly, this distraction makes Wolf caught partially unprepared as a lone Goran soldier steps into the room holding what appears to be one of their standard issue 'rifles'. It is not raised. 

     "You there!" hollers he in his nation's language, the miraculous translation ability between Worlds through the Tree making him well understood, as he closes the distance. O'Donnell, caught grinning, quickly rolls with it, but does not stand still. Rather, Wolf circles anti-clockwise about 60 degrees in order to meet this soldier part-way while simultaneously trying to keep the Goran's back facing the exhibit being tampered with. 

     "Well, hey there yourself," replies the tall wolf in as casual a manner as can be offered. The soldier stops just outside arm's reach and wolf makes no motion to close that distance further. That rifle looks nasty. 

     "You can't smoke in here!" objects the Goran. "Some of the stuff in here can be damaged by particulates in the air." Incredulous expression worn, the the soldier begins to turn to gesture toward something behind himself. Wolf quickly interjects. 

     "Hey, I have no idea what's going on. I was stressed. It's not like I know fully where I am after so much wandering and then this alarm started going off. Do you happen to have a map on you?" With an almost embarrassed chuckle, Wolf leans in with a wince and a shrug. "I could really use the local plumbing facilities, if you catch my meaning."

     Fionn has absolute faith that Wolf pulled that off in smooth a fashion as possible. Sure, his sensitive ears could probably pick up the little bounce and subsequent scuffle the follow. "Oh, yeah, you're a regular doll, sir. You ever consider ambassadorship? Or I could arrange some good spots on the subspace..." His bemused-ness... does not cease at the intrusion of the Goran. 
     Of course, he has to work a lot more quietly now. Thankfully the worst of the intrusion is over. Fionn lifts a finger to his ear and whispers something that should come in equal-whispered over com. (Gimme a minute and we'll be ready to fly. Put on that lupine charm of yours, Ambassador. And I'll uh... I'll come up with something. I'll count you down.) 

     Hopefully Wolf trusts him to pull this off. Or enough to keep that rifle in check. Wolf might pick up a near-mute muttering about tech spaces and air filtration and with all the high budget in the galaxy is it realy that hard to hire intelligent help? 

     Deft paws work silent as can be and with a certain urgency. As much as they knew about this mark there's a certain amount of working on the fly that's coming to play, and whatever is about to go down.. it's coming like a cargo train whether they like it or not.

     Squaring off with the Goran in the strangest way, Wolf continues to try to buy time as unrealistic as it might seem. Surely the big merc could easily take out one soldier? "No, you don't have time. You need to come with me right now. We're evacuating all non-personnel until such a time as the situation is resolved." 

     "Are you serious? I've been browsing the exhibits for hours without any idea where such facilities might be, now there's some sort of emergency, I'm lost and waiting for help to come along -- and thank goodness you did -- because my back teeth are floating. I just need two minutes to-" 

     "That's a long time to have to-" 

     "I really have to go. Besides, any civilized person is going to wash up after. Last thing you need is for an Outworlder like me to show up to meet the others with wet unwashed hands, victim of the need for haste and nervousness, and cause some sort of 'Incident' that people never stop talking about." 

     Taken aback, the soldier looks unsure of what to do. There's merit in what is said, but orders are orders, too. "Are you sure you can't hold it? It'll only take about-" 

     "I'm very sure." 

     There's a pause. The Goran sighs. "Okay, fine. But you'll have to make it quick." 

     "Of course. Just show me where to go." 

     The soldier turns to point to a side door at the other end of the room behind him. Wolf's eye widens a bit and he tenses up in the chest, along the upper arms, and holds his breath. "It's just over there," the soldier states, "to the right, just after the Nexrian Power Module displ--h,hey!" 

     Well... Shit.

     Two minutes? That's awful generous of Wolf. While Fionn can't help but admire the... colorful banter. (Is that how you pick up all the ladies? Clearly I've been going about this all wrong...) And such subvocal banter. One wonders if he's even working at full pace, the way he chatters on. 
     A couple faint sparks flicker as new connections are made, and the fennec is confident that he's making very solid progress when he hears the exclaimation. (ThreetwooneGO). That's as much as a countdown as we can get, he guesses. 

     Fionn is banking on the guard being more focused on the person yanking the Exosuit and not the stranger chattering on. Accomplice? Maybe a quick beat of logic. But one should be more concerned with the shifting mass of metal and microfibers. What was it Nichols yapped before jumping in? Something like, 'Screw it we don't need the arms.' Uh. 

     What results is a rather awkward contortion, almost monster-like as the now inhabit Exosuit turns around. The head balloons, and the ears, forming a featureless mask aside from bright red silhouettes of eyes and a Cheshire grin. A piston like *thump-thump* sounds from the legs as it stutters and turns into place and oh lord the arms are just.. stiff, unchanging, hanging ramrod straight. 

     (Don't let him use his comm. Or his gun. Or...) Fionn belts off some frustration, and what sounds like a pained whine before whipping that way. DISTRACTION GO.

     And what a distraction it is. Something about the sound of a powered exosuit clomping in your direction is enough to throw most people off guard. As it stands, the already partially-unsure soldier hesitates at first. This is likely not helped by Wolf jarringly announcing, "What the heck?! It's coming right for us!" 

     Sure, loud voices might carry a distance underneath the droning alarm, but nothing will be more obvious than the sound of that moving piece of hardware. But, one might wonder, why would Wolf purposefully seem to make such a point out of it when the 'confused and lost Offworlder shtick' may not work? Simple. 

     Despite Fionn's warning for not letting the soldier use his gun, that's precisely what Wolf aims to do. The Goran raises his rifle before yelling a 'halt' or some such phrase with obvious intended meaning. In this, in that brief moment, the soldier becomes completely focused on the exosuit and its pilot. This doesn't mean that Wolf allows the Goran to actually fire the weapon. 

     Arms reach around the military figure, both stock and barrel are grabbed, and the following torque applied moves the soldier's fingers in a direction they shouldn't. The sound of digits popped out of place is muted by the other noises, although the twist of the weapon allows for O'Donnell to side-step and use the stock of the weapon in the new position to smack hard against the Goran's jaw. Twice. Those impacts can be heard. 

     This results in the uniformed figure slumping to the floor no more than five seconds after seeing the exosuit come to life with a perfectly fine alien rifle left in the lupine merc's hands. Smoke drifts from Wolf's muzzle as he gives the fallen soldier a nudge with his boot. 

     "Hey, it was going to work, you know. Was totally gonna work."

     Fionn WOULD raise a fist menacingly, but he didn't seem to be able to activate those features before he was forced to take action. Instead he lifts one leg into a crane position, which would look FAR more meaning were it not for the noodlearms there. He tilts his head slightly as the soldier gets his due. "Yeah, that one's on me. I think my tail was sticking out..." His voice sounds a little weird coming through the com and muffled on the suit. "Shall we?" 
     Walking and little bursts of propulsion are managable, though there's a pitched squeak to crack on Fionn's voice on occasion. "Better grab a ride before they figure out what's up. They come looking for this guy and it's going to hit the fan reaaaal fast. Gotta love that trigger discipline there. Don't think we're going to get another demonstration of that fine training for a while though...." 
     It's an even spread, really, so they'd better get moving. "Once they're hot for us, should let off some of the pressure on the rest of the team. Up for a bit of a show while we grab our wheels?"

     "Well, doubtful they're going to let us just walk right out of here without a bit of a fight, but we're prepared for when that happens." Wolf pulls that cigarette from his mouth and exhales the off-color smoke while resting the newly-acquired rifle against a shoulder. "So, how about we leg it, make good on transport, and get rolling?" Stepping away from the defeated soldier, it's best to get going before he wakes up. The base intercomms might be down for now, but that soldier is going to wake up eventually and get help. 

     Taking a few steps away toward the broader hall exit, Wolf replaces the cigarette to his mouth before gripping the firearm with both hands before hurrying his step. "Let's see if you can keep up, Ears. Don't make me have to carry you -and- the exosuit out of here." 

     What awaits the duo, no doubt, is little to no resistance up until they near one of the proper building exits. There, guards will surely be stationed to help evacuate civilians and guests to a safe location. They will also be armed. On the other hand, they have no idea what to expect in potential opposition. As far as they know, it's some sort of environmental hazard due to a malfunctioning exhibit.

     "Despite my... limited mobility, I think I can pull out a few surprises." Fionn exhales sharply and looks over at Wolf. Nevermind that he currently looks more like a DJ mascot than he does a military-equipped soldier. "So this is what the world looks like up here. Yeah, I can keep up." 
     The extra leg length and some of the mobile capabilities of the suit do wonders. Though they can't explore and play with all the features QUITE yet. He scans from side to side as he follows. "We could try to grab one of the transports out of the loading dock. They'll have a thicker line on it, but if they shipped this prom dress in it we've got a better shot of making the drive home..." He thumps a fist against his chest a couple times. "Do nooot want to find out how thick they made this stuff. But can't really turn down a dance dressed like this, can I."

     "We can make for the nearest loading area, but we need to be a bit more expedient. I wouldn't worry too much about your ability to withstand fire. The main reason I want this thing is because it's designed to be a mobile infantry armoring." 

     Wolf figures that, with a copy of the schematics or not, a bit of backwards engineering should be possible if most of the machine remains intact. The hallways of the base are a lot more creepy than the exhibition rooms. The alarm resounds far greater and the flashing rotating lights constantly illuminate floor to wall to ceiling to wall over and over, forming a spiral of progress for boot and machine to make down each length. 

     "Just follow me, Nichols. We're making for the nearest exit and using the element of surprise in our favor to get out of here before they have a chance to regroup." That said, Wolf turns the next corner while raising his rifle. 

     What follows almost seems to happen with a touch of slow-motion in the mind's of those processing the sudden danger and detail. A number of guards are posted at the door, indeed, and two extra soldiers, along with a military doctor, escort a couple of other Gorans toward the door while making conversation. One of the guards shouts something in surprise while another begins to fall backwards out of his chair. One of the soldiers moves to step to the side to usher the civilians toward the exit while the couple become fearful and the doctor ducks her head while moving her arms to 'shield' the two unarmed people. Wolf O'Donnell steps around the corner, weapon drawn, and no doubt not alone. The rifle in the wolf's hands begins to discharge, although it isn't aimed at anyone in particular. This alarms those present, spooks others, but serves a very different purpose than offense. 

     With a loud THUNK the alarm turns off, the lights turn off, and for a moment pure silence, aside from soldiers yelling, is heard. The intercomms for the Gorans suddenly cuts back on, though, and their ears are met with the explosive cut-in on some audio. The very same audio begins to play through the alarm system. The lights also cut back on, although they sweep about much slower and change colors here and there. But, wasn't Leon in charge of taking out comms and central security for the base? Hauntingly, the loud audio disorients the Gorans completely for the moment all across the base. 

     Friday night and the lights are low. Looking out for a place to go where they play the right music, getting in the swing, you've come to look for a king. 

     Anybody could be that guy~!

"I'd say 'Surprise' is another word for 'Improvise,' but we've got this down to a T," The fox pipes back. 
     As they circle around, the suited fox leans back and gives an almost deadpan digital expression at the cracked in audio. "... too bad we can't stick around for the whole set. Better dance while we can..." 
     Perhaps just cover for the awkward, partial mobility the suit in this state has... Fionn sweeps in to the left and catches one of the guards' rifles with a pirouetting motion, juking his shoulder up and throwing off their balance. Rifle flashes making a rhythmic pulse to the music.

     In the fashion that would make John J. Rambo proud, the one-eyed wolf strides forward through the center of the room, rifle at the ready and firing, as the muzzle flash illuminates his face in pulses while smoke drifts from his bent cigarette. His grip is firm and his aim is peculiarly spot-on. He doesn't aim for the soldiers, though, and instead uses the structure of the entryway, the furnishings, and decorations for the exhibition in his favor to cause distraction and nonlethal injuries. While it would be extraordinarily easy to mow everybody down, there seems to be a bit of a different tactic in play. 

     Night is young and the music's hiiiigh. With a bit of rock music, everything is fine; you're in the mood for a dance. 

     Seating chairs are shot and propelled across the floor, either sliding or rolling from the force of projectile impact; banner strings are severed and the now flailing fabrics obscure and annoy; support pillars are clipped and the dust created is used to further reduce vision; a nearby checkpoint detector is struck and it begins to beep and flash to add to the disorienting music. 

     And when you get that chance... 

     The Goran soldiers present, which are not that numerous, aren't sure who the enemy is or what kind of attack is going on. They know that there is at least one aggressor with a firearm, although the Exoframe seems to be piloted by a hijacker now that it joins the fray as a combatant, too. Diving for cover where it can be found, unable to see very well due to the lighting and other vision-impairing miscellany, they hesitate at first to fire back. When they do, it's done blindly. Orders are hard for them to pass to one another, or even communicate location and strategy, making the surprised Gorans easy targets to overwhelm. 

     You are the Dancing Queen. Young and sweet, only seventeen.

     Fionn's figure stalls for a brief flash or two, catching in different awkward poses as the suit twists around itself like it's desperately going for an itch. There's a *click* and one of the arms shifts, swaying to motion, and then the 'fingers' snap twice. A beat before he lifts up an end-table and catches a row of rifle fire with uncanny timing. 
     Just keep them pinned down a little longer, scatter, and make it hard for them to regroup. While Wolf is the muscle, he's still got his part to play, making sort and sudden demonstrations of the suit's capabilities. 
     In part though he's bluffing, getting the front to give off a warning-glare pulse that grows brighter and more intense in hue with the backdrop. Is it getting louder in here?

     Dancing Queen. Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah. 

     Ultimately, the entire goal is to rush the exit and get out into the open air. However, doing so will forfeit the bonuses of the barrage of light and sound inside the building. It's still evening outside and plenty light out, so reaching the exit will have to bring about a shift in strategy. One step at a time, pushing forward with covering and debilitating fire, aiming to not only make it out but with as many non-lethal neutralizations as to prevent being flanked during exfiltration. Any solider Wolf can get close to brings about a pause in gunfire, both from himself and the soldiers aiming in his direction, that allows for some quick hand-to-hand finishers. 

     You can dance, you can jive having the time of your life, ohhh. See that girl, watch that scene digging the dancing queen. 

     Meanwhile, where the music is arguably louder, a lone figure before a set of security control panels and monitors bobs and weaves to the music with partially-closed eyes. Fingers touch against screens and buttons as security doors slam shut and reopen with no particular rhyme or reason. The anti-fire system is activated in a few rooms showering any present in a harmless yet cold liquid spray. Hips swaying and toes tapping, the lithe lizard puts on a comms headset to sing along to the music and broadcast his voice around the base. This isn't karaoke, but there's no denying that the middle-aged eccentric reptile has a very good singing voice. 

     "I'm a teaser, I turn 'em on, leave them burning and then I'm gone looking out for another. Anyone will do; I'm in the mood for a dance." 

     Elsewhere, high above the world's surface flying as the Sky Eye in his Black Rose Wolfen, Panther Caluroso facepalms.

     Fionn's methods, while uncharacteristically brutal, are also more likely to be non-lethal. Snapping one side to another and taking suited guards on a tumble, putting a few more down with just sheer weight. The threatening light-show reaches it crux and doesn't do anything more than initimate for a few beats before it shifts in color again. 
     "You know, in some worlds, Space Idol is totally a career. I'm not saying he'd change careers, but if ever there was someone to 'moonlight'..." 
     He shake shis head and hops back to Wolf's side after a quick visual sweep around. Maybe one more crescendo to see it through...

     "And when I get the chance~" 

     Everything suddenly goes black and the sound of power being cut joins the powering down of many machines and appliances. A few stray gunshots light up the darkness briefly, as there are no windows, but otherwise it goes very pitch. Fionn likely has the advantage of an adapting exosuit, even if it's not fully functional at present, as Wolf doesn't have his HMD equipped. That...doesn't stop Wolf from knowing exactly where enemy positions are in the darkness, though. 

     "Sounds like he just got buzzed out by the judges," comments O'Donnell before throwing his rifle, likely low on ammunition at this point, stock first at the nearest soldier's head while rushing the second closest. He clips a tumble seat with his knee; it might otherwise hurt, but his fashion style is practical as well as awesome. The metal clicks against his knee armor and sends the floor-bound seat into a spin on its side. This, and his heavy footfalls, are the only indication of position given. 

     The guard fires; the bullets only just miss, but the flash gives away both the fact that Wolf is right upon up with a fist pulled back and the horrified expression on the Goran's face at learning this fact. In the dark, there's a tussle, some thwacks, and then a dull thud. 

     "Somebody is trying to restart the base's power," chimes in Panther over Star Wolf closed comms. "I'm sure they'll try to lockout local controls, too. If you're going to leave, now might be a good time. You, too, Leon." 

     Leon sighs. "If I must. And here I was finally feeling a mote of happiness." 

     "Boo hoo," mocks Panther. 

     "We'll just have to settle for the tech, then," interjects Wolf. "Nichols, make for the exit. I'm sure you can find a way to open the door in that thing."

     A note after the sound goes out, Fionn looks up leaving a pair of blinking digital eyes and a pair of oversized swiveling ears. He swipes a fallen firearm, squeezes off a couple shots with energetic reports, then crumples it and clears back off another doorway. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be a favorite on the grid." 
     The fox makes his way through the dark, finally getting a spat of breathing room from the action. He kneels down at a doorway, prying open a flat metal panel with a brief scream of metal. "... had to be mags. Alright! We might not have the com, but could do a little encore and I'll have us out of here in a jif.."

     "Must you encourage him?" complains Panther immediately regarding an encore. 

     Leon defensively yet smugly responds, "At least somebody here understands how great I am and gives me the respect I deserve." 

     "What you deserve is a kick to the tail," Wolf states with some finality. While Panther says nothing to this, he can still be heard softly laughing. "Get moving. No - deaths, - Leon. Not this time. You know the plan." 

     "Well, if you're going to ruin the fun, you may as well be thorough," Leon pouts. 

     Before Wolf has time to become cross, Panther informs, "Word is in that the Goran Nation acknowledges something is very wrong at the Atmilan Seran Base where the Technological Exhibition is being held. The military heads believe it might be due to a cyber-attack or even one of the exhibits malfunctioning. I'd suggest going back for the one they suspect, but they weren't very specific. Aerial reinforcements are being sent from Harrifal Gorus Base. ETA: 7 Units." 

     7 Units? 10 minutes wasn't much time to work with. "Nichols, hurry up with that damn door. Panther, we need to exfiltrate in the direction opposite incoming. Give us details and terrain that supports a pickup by dropship, but prepare to play Interception. Leon, coordinate with Panther in sabotaging ground vehicles to delay a chase and then rendezvous with us at the pickup." 

     Lord O'Donnell's orders are clear enough, but anything further is briefly muted by the sound dampening of comms as he picks up the last soldier's rifle and fires for suppression as footsteps can be heard quickly approaching down one corridor. The hail of fire gives the reinforcements pause.

     "My headphones can't fix in the exosuit, and I work better with music..." Fionn gets across, almost more conversational the tighter the deadline draws. "You can do whatever you want with whoever's tail when we get back to the station." 
     Ears go up at the mention of aerial support, and then back down. The real story would get out quickly enough once inside met out, but by then, hopefully they'll be riding their reputation into the sunset. The fox digs around, reaching into the wall, clamping here, adjusting there, connecting one line to another and giving some mechanism a twist. *click, clunk, CHUNK*, the door hisses... and then a second secure plate slams down in front of it. 
     "Hhhh. Okay, plan B it is." 
     There's a sound like a small bomb going off, a flash, and then light pouring in giving a small halo to a cloud of debris.

     O'Donnell continues to fire into the darkness as Fionn works, but the gun soon empties itself completely. Glancing around for another weapon to keep the soldiers at bay, he finds nothing more than a chunk of support pillar the size of a fist. He eyes the debris for a moment. His muzzle twists into a crooked smile. 

     Rushing over to the door where Fionn and the jacked suit are located, Wolf observes the light entering in through the now dusty air. "Okay, Nichols, squeeze through. Don't make me have to push. We have officially run out of time. This is the last I can do to hold them off." But what? The grizzled lupine turns and pulls his arm back before yelling, "Grenade!" and lobbing the heavy chunk of artificial rock into the darkness of the corridor. The sound of people scattering and yelling can be heard.

     Don't need to tell him twice! Fionn plants both palms against the old-new exit and pries open the rest of the gap before preparing to pull himself through. "Take it we've got a ride waiting or we've really gone all in on entertaining this bunch..." With a wiggle and twist, then a couple clonks, the fox pulls through to the other side. 
     A gauntlet'd paw sticks back to the whole ready to tug if need be. It'll do for a getaway, but that still leaves enough of a gap for them to be followed unless they manage to get out for good...

     Shielding his eyes and stepping forward through the hole, Wolf has little issue managing the fit even despite his build and size; Fionn in that exosuit is larger. The outside of the base is fairly nondescript. There are roads in-between the structured buildings and the roads are fairly dusty. But, that about sums up the Goran Nation pretty well as far as land owned. Sparse vegetation grows on places less trodden. Off in the distance one might spot a few trees growing, only...those aren't trees. They're actually predators of aerial creatures, or, well, what passes for birds on this planet. 

     Outside the exit are a few vehicles, but they are too small to support a heavy exosuit. There's also a medical truck, although the bed is covered by a canopy of fabric that filters out the dust in the air. Still, that's probably the smarter option. It simply might need some custom work done to it. 

     "We're out, commandeering a vehicle. Panther, send us those coordinates." 

     "About time you made it," snarks Leon along with the sound of yanked wires and sparks. 

     "Coordinates sent. Keep up the pace and maybe I won't have to slaughter those incoming soldiers en route via aerial transport." That would definitely break the no killing rule that's been going on so far, but better them than oneself, right? 

     "Nichols, those arms don't work all that well? Can you maybe just cram it in there to rip off that back covering on that truck?" The truck is not going to like the added weight, but it should still work. O'Donnell, meanwhile, opens the unlocked door with a testing tug, then begins fussing over trying to find a way to turn it on. He may not be a mechanic, but even his earlier years were spent as a rogue; 'hotwiring' a vehicle is just part of surviving, in a pinch.

     And somehow more hospitable than Papetoon, this place. Fionn scans the horizon for a moment, a brief silence before he's moving again. The shift in light doesn't affect him as much with the suit's visor doing a swift visual adjustment. "... yeah. This thing's already going to need a bit of courting before it's ready to dance proper. Hope this is worth all the trouble." 
     There's a couple steps before he lets out a quiet laugh. "Nah. It's a good day out either way." 
     Compared to their daring escape, getting into the truckbed is far less daunting of a task. The bed might protest, the axels might creak and sink down the wheels a bit, but the canopy is about as easy to clear as tackling a wrapping on Christmas morn'. Well, maybe a little harder than that. "Hmm. Mags shouldn't be hard to get online. Not that I'm worried about bouncing out in this hunk of metal."

     For as different as cultures can be across Worlds, it's impressive how progression of sciences and arts can be comparable from one to the next. As such, Wolf O'Donnell's ignition lock bypass takes longer than they might with more familiar technology, but in the end is just as successful. The medical transport truck lurches to life, engine thrumming from microexplosions and humming from a very different type of power relay. While the back of the truck should suit the placement of the exosuit just fine, Gorans have a shorter-in-height average compared to the mercenary boss and, thus, the cab is a bit small for him to comfortably fit. It takes an attempt to sit in the driver's position and a smack of the head on the cab's roof followed immediately by some colorful language. 

     Nonetheless, the vehicle is ready to go! Even if, well, Wolf has to hop out. He gives the not-so-padded seat inside a slap or two before speaking up. "The dance is over, Nichols. Time to separate and drive home. I'm chaperoning you two." With that, Wolf begins to pull himself up into the now-open-air bed along with the valuable cargo. 

     As if on cue for the big driving sequence to begin, there is an earth-thumping explosion from a different position on the base with cackling glee that erupts over Comms courtesy of a lizard. "I said no killing!" growls Wolf as the fiery smokeball rises into the sky in the reflection of his narrowed purple eye. 

     "No soldier or personnel or civilian signatures in the area of effect," reports Panther clearly and concisely. 

     "Relax, Cap'n. Just breaking a few of their toys so they can't play with us," assures Leon. "Now get out of here, yeah? Time to make an escape, hehehe. See you in debrief." 

     It may not do much, but Wolf uses some of the medical support straps to try to offer a bit more stability in holding the heavy suit in place with some quick wrapping and tying even if Nichols gets some Mag Locks active. "Tell me you can drive this thing, Ears. We're going to be racing just ahead of the crashing wave at this point."

     "Maybe put it in ways I can understand. Like a sandstorm, or a..." Fionn trails off before hitting the proverbial off switch and then slumping out of the back of the suit. Yeah, his limbs are looking a bit beat up but he right-hands it along the side of the truck with a bit of a nod. "I'm kidding. I did my share of surfing on Corneria. Swear those spoiled prats have more water than they know what to do with!" 
     Ah, the finer things in life. Fionn makes sure the magnets are set in place before slipping back in the way Wolf came. "Jeez. It's too roomy in here..." he mutters before parking himself in the seat. Scanning all the different devices, puzzling out all the logic of how they must be assembled in the finest details in just a couple blinks. He puts a hand on the break release and starts to ease out. "Strap in, 'cause I'm gonna floor it. And I made the releases pretty obvious on the mags in case you need to get that thing un-secured in a hurry." Tee minus to getting out of dodge... soon.

     "I think I can handle a few G's," replies the only major rival pilot James McCloud had. That was back before Gravity Diffusion was a thing. All the same, Wolf takes hold of a bit of dangling strap and winds it about his hand for support, much like one might do with a handle on the metro, in safe precaution. They have a distraction as well as a measure of sabotage to prevent a force of chasing on the ground, but it does little to slow the aerial force on the way. 

     Furthermore, Wolf's bluff on the 'grenade' can only fool others for so long. A lone soldier blinks with a step out of the forced exit and suints over at the torn-off truck canopy on the ground. Their eyes see the mechsuit first, then the large wolf standing beside it. Two eyes meet one. O'Donnell lifts a hand to wave goodbye with an ever-so-pleasant smile and it takes a second for the information to parse -- the soldier then yelps in alarm before turning to call out to people inside the building.

     "No doubt. Let's see how much love they put into their ground vehicles, shall we?" Fionn 'pulls about' in a slow gait, the same way someone would pull out of a bustling parking lot which brings them right into line of sight. Enough time to get off a wave and a remark. He puts his good arm up against the steering wheel, the other wincing at the controls. He pops on the radio, too, switching it over to a local station--maybe whatever passes for rock in this corner of the universe. 
     "Hold on, Boss," he says before putting that foot down. Not 0-to-floor but a swift acceleration that a medical vehicle should be able to handle. Swift acceleration, good balance, good stability--the sort of things you'd want to hurdle a critical patient across a city in ten seconds flat. Or a couple of outlaws and their payload. If it weren't for the sheer weight, the drag, the capability of military vehicles... well. Let's just say they're not out of the woods yet. 
     "Panther, can you keep an eye out for intercepts? This thing's not going to turn on a dime for nothing."

     "I'll do what I can, but it's going to get pretty busy up here in just a moment." Panther Caluroso looks over his panels and holographic display to take in all the information pouring in. A sensor lock is kept on the hijacked truck as it begins to move away noting direction, speed, and details of terrain. The blank sight of naught but atmosphere may be the only thing visible through the canopy of Panther's Black Rose, but another display shows a squadron of aerial vehicles en route and closing fast. "There are a few signatures boarding a ground vehicle, but you have a head start. I'll send you the coordinates for the pick up. If I were you I'd test just how fast that thing can-" 

     "Unidentified vessel. You are unauthorized to be present in Goran Air Space." A voice cuts in from a different audio feed that is heard across the closed comms. It's clearly female. The video tag shows a lady Goran identified as Kulah Haf Ferrahk, or Lieutenant Commander Ferrahk appropriately. "Prepare for escort and ground your vehicle." 

     This completely pulls Panther's attention away, but not until after sending coordinates over the secured line. "Such a beauty racing to meet me. I might feel flattered, but an escort service is a bit too demeaning to you," he counters, voicing over both comms. "Might I suggest a light lunch with only a single glass of rose' wine for a divine first meeting?" 

     "What?" comes an off-guard moment steeped in confusion from Ferrahk. 

     "Who is this guy?" chimes in a different voice, this one more masculine. It might all seem a bit asinine, this practically predictable exchange, but it does provide some distraction so the aerial troops don't immediately pick up on the ground movements below.

     "Oh, don't tell me you can't deal with being popular," Fionn muses back over. He pulls out and tosses down a small disc to project anything that's piped in from the team in a crude, fuzzy pull-up on the dash. "We're not going to make it to the drop without having to deal with our own suitors." Which is fine. It's just simple math, and the Fennec can drive. The turns so far are... smooth. Not having to dodge bullets yet helps. 
     "What I wouldn't give for a bridge right now. No permafrost to deal with either... hmm. Only a matter of time before they call us out. You got anything that can mess up the road? Might buy us a little more time when they catch up."

     There isn't much to be heard from O'Donnell. He's there, hanging tight, standing tall, even as the wind whips by to make his mane all aflutter. While he keeps an eye out for those giving chase, he also keeps an eye on the prize. How he does this with only one good eye -- well, he does his best. The radio banter is heard, certainly, but it doesn't bother him. Wolf knows that Panther will do his best to abide by the rules of this particular mission. Leon, too, even if he seems to need reminding now and then. Wolf quietly goes over his thoughts. 

     The two vehicles giving chase are far less loaded and thus have better acceleration and higher speed. Still, it's a good head start so long as the truck isn't fired upon by the aircraft now visible banking into a holding pattern around the base perimeter while holding formation. The craft look very dangerous, as any military attack vehicle should be able to emit an air of, but it's questionable if they could hold a candle to the shine of the modified Wolfen's capabilities. Chances are, if it came down to it, Star Wolf could walk over these people. The issue is that the Goran Nation is militaristic and has a vast armed force with numerous soldiers. Just because they are peaceful and open doesn't mean they are at all defenseless. It is because of their military advancement that they feel comfortable being open. 

     Strangely enough, Panther is in no hurry to escape the squadron. Rather, he allows the others to assume escort formation alongside the Black Rose and, for the moment, complies with their demand of being shown where to land. This not only keeps them distracted, but provides an opportunity for the pilots to glimpse one another through each respective canopy. Thankfully, Ferrahk and her squadron are unable to see how advanced the inside of Panther's ship really is. 

     "I'm impressed with your precision and skill and stunned by your haunting grace and unmistakable allure. Rrrr. I know of a wonderful cafe on this one mushroom planet that is quaint from the outside, but truly delightful inside. I'm sure the barista could provide tasty latte art to match your tasteful attributes. What do you say?" 

     Panther is too preoccupied to offer any munitions-based help in the hangers-on working on catching up. Wolf is otherwise unarmed, else he would happily take out some tires if needed, but vehicular accidents can go quickly wrong, too. Wolf has given a very specific no-kill order for this heist. that might complicate matters, but the boss has a reason for everything. Usually.

     "How 'bout next time you let me fly detail?" Fionn chips back. "We cut out of the cocktail party a little early, and if I'm going to be honest with ya, I wasn't quite ready to call it..." He rolls the wheel arm over arm and pitches down a side-road, a bit of a diversion. A bit more narrow, to give their pursuers the option of either going single file or taking off-road. 
     The grease-fox pulls a couple of canisters out of his pocket and rolls them over. "Know this is a bloodless little 'venture, but uh... we on the line if we do something stupid? Occupational hazards and all that..." He glances side-ways, towards the off-road hills and the distant, strange local fauna. "If the Goran ops can't handle a little safari, they might just be hopeless."

     "What, you're asking for permission now? When has that stopped you before?" asks Wolf with a glance over his shoulder to the driver occupying the cab behind where he stands in the bed. His voice might be heard by those ears over the engine and wind and sound of driven-over landscape, but so too is it broadcast over comms. 

     "Willful little hothead, that one." That came from Leon, wherever he may presently be. 

     "You know the terms and conditions, Nichols. I trust my men to always act in the best interest of the mission. Besides, we all know my wingmen like to showboat now and again." The dust kicked up from speeding vehicles becomes visible back behind the cloud left behind by the medical-turned-cargo truck. Seems they're starting to catch up. After the gun display earlier, they probably won't be using harsh words to get the heisters to stop. 

     Whatever dialogue is passed between Panther and Ferrahk is not heard by others although it is likely recorded. No doubt the feline is trying to chat up the Goran in his special and respectful way. Up ahead, in the distance before the dusty path of the Fennecmobile, there is a glint in the high atmosphere as sunlight reflects off of the surface of something high up descending. That must be the dropship serving as transport for the goods and personnel. It's not a direct course by road, however, with this taken detour, so the ride might get a bit more bumpy. 

     O'Donnell reaches back to slap the top of the cab three times in gesture: bang, bang, bang! "Show me."

     "Maybe I've just got a newfound respect for authority," Fionn muses back. "If I wanted to show off, I'd've picked something a little more... spritely. But beggars can't be choosers." 
     The ride gets rough, fast, and no amount of careful maneuvering can completely alleviate the bumps and shakes from uneven terrain. Low dips and swoops up slopes, a short hop of air. The difference between road and rough makes a short zip to close the distance between them and their ground buddies... for a moment. Grass and rough earth is torn up into more dust and gravel that flies backwards, with the wind and enough speed to keep it out of fur. But the taste is in the air. "... now that's a little slice of home. Oop... 'cept for these guys." Steel giraffes? There's gotta be a cute name for them somewhere. Whatever they are, hopefully they aren't up for a change in diet. Fionn plows right towards one, taking the truck down between its stomping legs--and that's when the canisters hit the ground. At their gargantuan size, it won't mess with their respiratory. Visibility on the ground is down and fast, with some of the pivots back into smoke leaving only haze and the occasional ominous shadow. The vibrations of the ground, drum-like from their steps as he stirs up a fog of war no sane driver would go into... billow through shadows for what feels like an eternity before breaking again towards that glimmer of safety in the sky. Just a bit further.

     If the cargo can take this level of roughness without disengaging and falling out, then it's not going to hit the ground unless the vehicle itself flips. It's certainly a lot of mass to put to speed, but what are Star Wolf field agents if not skilled in vehicular manipulation mastery? It's certainly a rough go and even Wolf's feet lose contact with the base of the bed on a couple of ocassions only to thud heavily against shortly thereafter. That makeshift handle works wonders. 

     Those giving chase are, due to this sudden obstacle, unable to directly follow, but this is not cause for them to give up just yet. While one waits, the other tries to find a way around; time is bought, though, which is worth a lot. It might be just enough time to get to the hovering thick craft only just taking position above one of the more high-ground places. Not much farther to go. O'Donnell leans in over the side of the truck, partially against the cab, in order to put his face near the window even if his voice could otherwise be heard. "Not bad." That's actually fairly decent praise coming from the boss. He even has a moment to flash a grin at the short fox, but directly behind Wolf's face (and unseen to him) comes a sudden blur of motion as one of the military vehicles rounds over a hill and through some scrub in an explosion of dust and dry leaves as tires leave the ground at unsafe speeds that only just clips the very back corner of the medical truck. Debris flies outward and the pursuing vehicle skids over dirt and stone to correct its path. They tried to ram! 

     The jolt nearby makes Wolf topple out of the truck altogether, but the strap holds fast, but it'll likely leave a bruise or two. "What the heck?!" The dropship ahead lowers itself further and the loading door in the back opens with a folding outward that provides a ramp. It doesn't quite land, for some reason. "Floor it all the way, Ears; we can't afford to negotiate a new rendezvous location!" exclaims the one-eyed wolf before quickly tucking behind the exosuit as a few bullets ricochet off of metal with tell-tale pings.

     We make them tough where we come from. And if the cargo can't handle a little rough ride, well, what's the point of a 'high tech' exosuit anyhow? There is a brief moment where his ear swivels, when he hears that telltale line and Wolf is airborne for a moment. "Oy, no bailing. There's plenty of wine back home!" Is that a hint of concern? Even though Wolf is way more his veteran? Well, he can't help it much. 
     A bump in the road, though, and (not at all) smooth sailing again a moment later. He flashes a bit of fang, and doubles down on the pedal again. There's only so much he can push out of a hot-wired transport like this. After a skid, a turn, and a brief moment of stopping they're gunning it full blast. 
     "Hold onto something!" The sound of tires screaming, alien animals yelling challenges, and general chaos flying about. The truck streaks across the packed dirt, breaking for a moment from pursuit at all costs and barreling towards the surprise drop.

     Surprise drop, indeed. The reason the transport is in such an awkward position of hovering 'on the ground' without actually landing is because there is a sheer drop some two hundred feet straight down directly beneath where the dropship waits. "Postman, prepare for the parcel!" commands O'Donnell with a raised voice to be heard over both engines, tires, and gunshots. "We're coming in hard, so clear out of the bay and accelerate on my mark! Panther, we're hitting departure point in fifteen; it's time to go! Nichols, hold her steady and do not let up! Close your jaw or you might bite off your tongue!" 

     Of all the places Panther could have picked for a pick up these were the coordinates chosen? Tactical? Or just a lucky guess? The soldiers giving chase know the cliff is there. They know this area well and the truck is under constant fire in a last ditch effort to do something about the theft. Caluroso has very nearly reached the landing zone with the escort by this time. "I understand your position, of course, but I have to say that you do seem to be a bit too clingy. You shouldn't let your self-set obligations conflict so sharply with who you really are, but your directed confidence should help you overcome those inhibitions in time. It's been a lovely flight together, but I need to go now. Your radiance will shine in my heart for some time to come." 

     "Don't even think about trying to get awa-" Kulah Haf Ferrahk's threat is interrupted as the Black Rose simply...leaves. One moment they're on approach to land and the next the odd craft accelerates near instantly to crazy speeds in a manner that would put most pilots under lethal amounts of compressive pressure. The squadron are left stunned and with more questions than answers. 

     "Three. Two. One." BAM! One of the truck's six tires suffers a violent blowout as gunfire rips through it. The truck is already airborn as this happens. "Mark!!" Even as the truck enters the dropship, before even touching down, it lurches forward to help lessen what could still be a violent entry.

     There is a moment of weightlessness that would terrify some, and makes Fionn WHOOP as the shift in gravity lifts him up in his seat. Then he clamps up. Naturally. The departure site, though... certainly overblown, does make pursuit extremely unvaiable beyond a certain point. 
     Gravity does the work for a matter of seconds. Velocity, angle, and planning all coming together with a bit of clandestine direction. The added stress from the lost tire, the force of hitting the transport even with compesnation, makes for a sudden jolt. Fionn eases off the momentum, making a hairpin swerve just to kill any remaining momentum and get them secure to watch the cliffside as the transport would likely close. 
     "Knight in shining armor's back in the castle," he chatters. "Let's get out clean... and next time I get to play usher."

     The vehicle giving chase stops just shy of the end of the line and one bold Goran hops out and fires upon the dropship with their sidearm while yelling words unheard by the roar of the transport's engines that could only be products of anger and frustration. Within the transport itself, it was very much a rough entry, but the closing of the bay door coincides with the activation of the G-Diffusers so there is very little to feel as the craft begins to quickly ascend. As such, there is no need to secure the truck or the truck's cargo. 

     "Well. Only planned for the exosuit, but, hey. Guess you earned a bonus. Congrats, Ears, you're the owner of a beat up truck that you can't turn off with a switch. Better get under the hood and disconnect the battery." There's a pause. "If it has a hood." Another pause. "If it has a battery." Yet another pause, though Wolf uses this one to hop out of the back of the truck to head toward the front of the ship. One hand rubs his bruised ribs. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. Right? I need a drink." Sigh. "And to take a leak. I was only half-bluffing with that guard. It would have totally worked, you know."

     Fionn takes a moment to catch his breath. Not long before the radio's not picking up anything. Switches turn, systems go off, though not the hot-wire that Wolf threw together. He rubs at his arm, nursing the bruises and sprains a bit before giving a little nod. "I could use a shower. And a cheese platter. And a little smooth talking." He rattles off a few things, watching the full-tanked Lupine with a faint smile. 
     "You're right. I'm sure this mysterious automobile technology will be a challenge for the ages. Tch. I'll take care of things here, Boss. Don't worry about it." No better way to cool off than to duck down under the wheel, figure out what the heck Wolf did, why it would work, and then figure a way to switch it off. Cut a wire, poke a thing... he's got tools for that.

     Wolf O'Donnell, dread terror of space, enters the cockpit of the transport and digs out a canteen of water from a supply bin and half-collapses in one of the seats looking very tired. Adrenaline is still thick in his system. Exercise would take care of that, but due to a full bladder he simply doesn't want to move around that much. He doesn't even say all that much and, aside from acknowledgment by the pilot and co-pilot, there is nothing said to their boss. that leaves one free seat available in the cockpit and plenty in the back. It's made for troop transport, after all. Consider things 'temporarily repurposed'. 

     Despite this relative silence, a voice pops up on comms. It's Panther. 

     "I know you two made it out okay, but you're going to make me ask anyway."

     "Would have picked you up something, but we didn't leave through the gift shop," Fionn replies, though a bit muffled from his position under the dash. Brushtail flicks for no one as he breathes off the last bit of excitement, the cool, unflappable aura settling in firm as he pops open a panel. This will make it a pain to repair later, but that's half the fun; with a claw and a rip, some sparks, the truck goes silent. 
     He gives it a quick once over, and checks the security on the suit before making his way back to the cabin. A quick salute is given before he plops himself in the seat and exhales. "Fun's just beginning, huh?"

     The imposing lupine slouches a little in the seat and stretches his legs out to claim what floor space there is in an unabashed way. "Of course," says Wolf, although directed to Fionn or Panther or both might be hard to tell. "We might be done with the Goran Nation, for now, but we needed it to look like an inside job. That was part of Leon's role in this along with the no murdering bit. Now... Now we figure out how that exosuit works and make some modifications so that it works better for us." 

     Wolf does his best to get cozy in a seat that is a little too small for him. "I'll need somewhere to test it and you gave me a great idea, Panther." 

     "Dare I ask?" 

     "Well, listening in on your date you mentioned a certain cafe." 

     "Uh huh?" 

     "Would be a shame if something happened to it." 

     "You wouldn't..." 

     "No. I wouldn't, but I bet some of the natives would."