Extraction (TWS)

Cldstr's pop-up warns you: it's another Neutraliser needing a detachment from Processing. Blaze's fuel reserves are no use here if the chamber won't open before hitting cryogenic temperatures.

Deflec seems like a safe choice

- A psionic ability-jammer targeting reactive auras - primarily psychic/energy armor, passive force fields, things that'd render a prisoner immune to whatever incapacitators their captives are toting.

You toggle Deflec to on, double-check you haven't left anything else activated, then call out to the crew.

"You may feel a wash of energy. No permanent effects anticipated, though. Alert the team if you sense otherwise."

DEPLOY. A crawling, ominous sensation, reminiscent of an explosion - Flayer Base, nine minutes sooner than your orders had called for. Genshi's detonation was enough to rip out an appreciable chunk of cliffside - if you went back and waited around on the now-hillock, you'd see a decent amount of rock in your vision, experience a guilt-wracking lack of Genshi's last words to you (being about ten feet shy of the corridors you'd walked), and probably contract three kinds of cancer.

Present. The feeling - it's slimy, no better way to put words to it - recedes. You looked to the doors starting to open, seen ungainly six-legged clusters of men shambled down the hall, dragged their centres along.

There were others, at different times, waited on the other side of these doors with gurneys, cleared the airlock's contents with a coordination like Rook was in their ranks. With them, it's troops down one bend in the hallway. "Acquisitions" down another. You can tell by the uniforms, or lack thereof.

Leiche shouted is shouting, drawns a pistol. A shock trooper in the hall. He stands, isn't stood, against the hustled and bustled and flowed of foot traffic away from your ingress.

There's a rifle in play. A rising flurry of birds, through which you barely see Leiche's silhouette dart forward. Gunfire. No preamble, no warning. The thud of a fresh body. A tense minute, wherein:

Mere feet away in the ghoul-haze: Leiche's strained breaths, a single pistol round.
From the corridor: strangled noise, gurgling, a splash.

Blaze, softly: "he's down." You know he's not talking about Leiche. Still.

You stride into the now-quiet hall. There's a puddle of water stretching from the unconscious trooper to several metres down the corridor in your direction - his ability must've been manipulating water? The spare canisters on his belt confirm it.

It's the work of several seconds to strip the trooper of weapons and repurpose his handcuffs against him. Leiche is already back in action, stripping their corpse of its armory and outerwear, giving the pistol they used a once-over. Rook's hovering, a little shaken. Getting her head around Lieutenant Deathproof, understandably.

Eirie hunkers down in the dingy facility lighting, sending birds off ahead to start constructing a map. Blaze approaches you, a tremor at his fingers, and you feel a breeze across the unconscious soldier's face.

"You going to wake him, boss?"