Extraction (TWS)

What sort of place is the vault, anyhow?

The Vault, at least in its initial stylings, was a self-contained research facility. Administrative/support staff positions were even posted online - even a flying doom fortress-city needs catering and IT.

There was an incident, a couple years before Tempest revealed his true colors, when the now-defunct NDF's R+D contracts were leaked and nobody could divine what exactly was hiding in those blacked-out documents, what the Vault had produced to justify several trillion dollars of state military funding. It hit the headlines, and slid off them just as quick. Reminded everyone that government branches of all stars and stripes were just great shambolic money-pissing contraptions, and the Tempest's machinations stepped back from their spotlight stint, reputation no worse for the wear.

They were an independent outfit most jokingly referred to as a cult composed of misfits, geeks playing at supervillainy among the clouds. A trope, by this point. Pre-emptively dismissed, and with newsworthiness limited to cursory 200-word Page Nine articles and ten minute segments on the news, at least until an agglomeration of egos did the inevitable and brought the whole operation crashing down a little more literally than the tabloids are accustomed. You know, because, sky fortress.

Hindsight's a bitch, and your abilities mean you're the only one who gets to make that joke.

The Vault's construction and infrastructure were on lockdown before their recruitment became more employer-proactive, don't-call-us-we'll-kidnap-you. You reviewed recordings - copies of recordings of recordings, of interviews with the Vault's PR team in its early days, the layered visual-and-otherwise noise of physical media lending the tapes an eerie-similar parallel to your own vague adolescent memories of the program on the Inkwire Hour.

Tempest's a real visionary, according to the guys in this segment. (Eirie alone managed to put names to faces - Vince Vigour, a C-lister celebrity, did most of the talking, while encouraged-to-quit ex-Association member Scanner Darkly navigated the more technical tangents.) The Vault's built from ethical sources where possible, employing individuals with synth-class powers to produce materials onsite. Labour inspectors are given a begrudging tour of the retirement halls. Haggard-but-healthy 30-somethings talk candidly about a gruelling few years of output before settling down, their onscreen unease attributed to the bristling array of Departmental instruments hemming them in, scanning voice and brainwave and bloodstream for signs of influence.

Blaze's memories, what remain of them, paint quite a different picture. He's got jumbled recollections of harsh hallways, fire, sensory deprivation, a steely gaze that flashes like an afterimage when he scrunches his eyes shut too hard, even now. Fire. Induced sleep. A finger, seized and thrust into a flask of periwinkle, whipped out and shattered like glass under an unerring hammer.

He's convinced the last one's a bad dream, thanks chiefly to the Surgeon.

> Who, or what should we expect to find?

Anyone - everyone - ever identified from on high as a correctly-shaped gear in the machine's latest expansion.

And who's guarding it at this point?

All comes down to how long this snake will survive without its head, now, doesn't it?

You've got a crew picking up what's left of Tempest, to take back to the labs for insight into what, exactly, his Power consisted of. Your final scuffle would imply it wasn't mind control, which means there's at least one asshole under his command with it awaiting you up top.

The Vault's underside and flanks are a jumble of missile launchers and other aircraft deterrents, ammunition stocks unknown, mostly for show. Since Slowmentum was captured and a concerted recruitment drive went underway for telekinetics, they haven't had much reason to blow up perfectly good parts in midair. Much easier to slow them down and maneuver them in. Much less wasteful.

Get aboard in one piece, and the Enforcers' quarters clad the guts of the operation like a particularly suicidal immune system, pitting odds against an invading force hitting vital zones and doing real structural damage before getting taken down. Blaze doesn't recall ever fighting intruders, but there were probably few with enough of a deathwish to dive headfirst into the Vault.

The rank-and-file here, at least, deserve to be evacuated and treated for the same procedures as Blaze. Higher-ranking soldiers, you'd have to consider on a case-by-case basis. Your extraction team doesn't have time to disarm and haul out every Enforcer that jumps you, however - Tempest's warned you with his dying breaths that the Vault's only a closed system while he's on board, take him out and it's going to run down down down into unforgiving Earth, taking its population of possibly-millions with it.

No, between a barrage of missiles and a raft of telekinetics, evacuation isn't a viable option. Shutting the defenses down might guarantee a few rescued, but the logistics of clearing out the core areas, residential+research, ensconced in soldiers' barracks, that snarl of prisoner-civilians mean you stand to save the most lives by diving straight for Central Command, wherever in flying supervillain hell that happens to be. Touch the Vault down gently, shut down its defenses, and evacuate from there.

Simple.

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