Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-26571677-20190307114930

A pair of eyes scanned the room; passing priceless artifacts and other weapons of enormous power.

She had one goal today. One goal only.

There it was.

A large, white metal locked box; secured with the best technology money could buy; neural links, fingerprint scanners, DNA identifiers, the works; all for the nugget of items hidden inside; something that would elevate her levels of power beyond that anyone could feasibly imagine.

There was no doubt that it could be cracked, no doubt at all as she slid a small disk to it’s underside and watched it bore into the wires and interfaces that made up the locks.

It would take time though.

Time she didn’t necessarily have.

The only solution was to carry it with her; she hadn’t the time to be waiting in a building long condemned and lost to the annals of law and order.

With a click, it was fastened to her back; magnets holding the bulky, bulletproof, steel encased box against her back as her HUD showed an agonizingly slow progress bar of bypasses and firewalls.

Time to check on Dust.

The lights went out and the sprinklers activated; plunging her into darkness and cold, wet misery.

Are you kidding me?

A quick tap to the side of her mask activated her vision once more into ghostly green. A check of her scroll revealed that he was just above; in the control room and likely messing with things he didn’t know how to use. She’d have to talk to him about that someday.

The darkness would play to her advantage though. In the dead of night and in an enclosed space with an EMP having wiped all other forms of small light sources, the land of chaos and inky shadow had fallen down upon their previously bright existence.

Stalkers thrived in such conditions.

She would remain unseen.

She would watch the watchers.

She would wait for her opportunity.

Hazel swung the door out of the auction room, prize in tow and wandering hands having scooped and grabbed their fill. Finding one of the blast holes with police long disappeared, she ducked down and through the wound; like a festering shot through metal flesh.

Ducking between jagged metal and splintered wood, she emerged on the other side amidst the sounds of the dead and the dying. Moans echoed softly throughout the hidden back area and opportunistic thieves took their time looting pockets whilst the peppered cracks of gunfire and cracks of explosive rang in tune through the background.

Gunpowder smoke mixed with fog of war amidst a pitch-black land, occasionally lit up by the firework of burning metal.

Looking up with her night vision activated, she caught a glimpse of a black swan with lackeys in tow, but such a sight faded as quickly as it had appeared.

It was time for her escape plan.

“Alright, finally got the bloody thing working…I regret to inform you bastards that every single one of you are under arrest! Just uhh…hand yourself over and there’ll be no worries past that, otherwise we won’t hesitate to shoot you! Make the right choi-oh shi-“

The voice cut out and Hazel raised an eyebrow.

Then the land began to shake.

---

So far, his ratio for 'button-pressing positive vs negative vs oh shit what have I done' was actually in his favour!

The first button had broadcast the auctioneer’s selected music over the speakers.

He turned it off immediately; classical wasn’t his style.

The second one was…more interesting, it had activated all the lights onstage, waving what few remained in working order around haphazardly in a vomit of multicoloured lights.

He turned that one off too; bit gaudy for his tastes.

The third one had switched off the lights.

He left that one alone.

The last had activated the sprinklers.

He’d wanted to turn it off but felt it was a bit hot there, so he figured a bit of rain wouldn’t hurt.

There were many more that didn’t do anything else, he’d gone through multiple iterations of the same orange looking switch before the speakers activated with a screech of feedback as he tapped the mic.

“Ahem, test test one two three, test test?”

It worked.

In the midst of his speech, however, he’d leaned the wrong way, put the wrong foot in the wrong puddle of sprinkler water.

With a slip and a curse too graphic to be put over the microphone, he’d pressed a button he hadn’t wanted to do so.

The land rumbled and he looked down; squinting in the darkness as he could make out two words.

‘Manual Detachment.’

Underneath the auctioneering warehouse, engines began to spin up, pulling the entire platform slowly as the wooden bridges creaked, and the concrete ones groaned.

In a state of panic, he’d mashed it a few more times, all to no effect as the button got stuck halfway through the second hit.

He opened the mic once more.

“Yeah uhh…Lil’ J, might’ve…might’ve fucked it ay? Can I get some tech support up here? Ain’t exactly a number I can call is there…?”

Shit.

The plan was falling apart.

Then again, he’d never driven a warehouse before, but damn if he wasn’t keen to try.