Exigency: The Old Guard

Reave does well not to show it, but she's still very nervous. From Pudge's reading the Enforcer doesn't seem to have any intention of betraying the party... but considering her experience of shrouding her thoughts, who's to say?

"Still don't trust me, cyborg?" Reave smirks. "No matter. If your team prefers it I will gladly remain behind to stand guard."

Pudge can feel the relief positively emanating from her.

With Reave left at the entrance, the party moves deeper into the Vault.

Bland metal surfaces stretch in all directions. The facility is far less grand than its reputation would imply. Blue-tinged light strips run along the ceiling. No dust, no stains... except for the obvious dirty footsteps covering the floor. Graves-Burton's allies have made a thorough inspection of every square inch of space, as if they've been expecting to find hidden treasure troves under each panel and tile.

The corridor becomes a gantry way, circling around a single room. A chamber spherical in design, with ramps forming a cross between four coffin-sized machines hanging from the rafters. The machines are silent. And in their shadow stands Graves-Burton, bodyguards by his side and a squadron of Mercenaries searching the area. The party stays hidden on the walkway as below them, Graves-Burton harangues the squadron.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" The Lord Councillor is red in the face.

"It's empty," repeats the Mercenary captain, as his men continue to fruitlessly scan every nook and cranny. "The occupants of the pods... they're not here. Nothing's here."

"Impossible! They sealed an empty vault? All those locks, all those doors, all that research and the Valon vault is empty?"

"With all due respect, sir, I'd hardly call a vault containing this much apparatus 'empty'." The speaker is a tall, thin, sombre man, dressed all in grey. This is the bodyguard who contacted Darghibous back at the embassy, both warning and congratulating him for getting under Graves-Burton's skin.

"Let him throw a tantrum if he wants to, Moller. Makes no difference whether he can appreciate this or not." This speaker is...

Lilen Armani. Dressed in an impractical-looking fern-print gown with unpleasantly bone-like pins holding her hair in place. She looks like a debutante at a particularly macabre ball.

Graves-Burton doesn't respond to her jibe: not because he's above it, but because he's too angry to hear anything but his own furious inner monologue. The Mercs look uncomfortable, Moller remains impassive, and Armani seems amused by his discomfort.

"The machines themselves are a prize," Armani continues. "True stasis pods. Devices that stop time. The applications are limitless. There's nothing like them in all of Alpha Sector... but you don't need to take it from me. Take it from a tech expert."

Armani suddenly whirls around, wide-eyed, leering dangerously up at the gantry.

"Right, Pudge?"

There's much in the way of clicking and clattering as the Mercenary captain and his six troopers train their weapons at the party's position.

Armani rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "You're a non-factor here, captain. Leave this to the actual fighters."

Graves-Burton points dramatically at the upper walkways. "Intruders?! Don't just stand there, take them out—"

Armani raises a hand. Lord Councillor Graves-Burton snaps in half with a disgusting, reverberating crack. He's dead before either piece of him hits the ground. The Mercs look on in dumbstruck horror. Moller doesn't appear to care.

"That move will be familiar to Margoyles, I'm sure," Armani laughs. "But Graves-Burton's death was long overdue, I think we'll all agree." She sneers at the corpse. "Such a petty little man, beneath all of us. Had no idea what he was dealing with."

Armani looks back up at the party. "Sadly it would seem he's not the only one! I thought the four of you would have gotten a clue by now."

Pudge is airborne. His hands hit metal and his grip holds and a heart-pounding second later Pudge realises he's made it to the pod safely.

"Of course," replies Armani. If the renegade psion is aware of what Pudge is doing that very moment, she doesn't show it. She gives Moller a backward glance. "I'll see to the guests. Go check the other rooms, would you?"

A mysterious request to make, but he still nods in understanding and... vanishes. Like Reave, it would appear that Moller shares the telempathic ability to edit himself out of people's perceptions of their surroundings.

At this point the Mercenaries and their captain are, to put it lightly, freaking out. Their ostensible boss was violently killed and now people are disappearing before their eyes. Some of them have even pointed their weapons at Armani. She doesn't bother to turn to look at them...

The Mercs double over, crying out in pain and shock, but soon their cries become positively inhuman. Their bodies swell and bulge, armour warping as they expand, steam rising from them with an audible hiss. Veins pulse beneath red skin and blood trickles from their mouths and noses. Then, as one, the twisted former Mercenaries straighten up and move towards the party.

Armani turns back to Wilhelm and Serana. She smiles, and makes a beckoning motion.

Pudge focuses all his psionic abilities in defense; blocking others out and preventing any kind of mental assault. He quickly and quietly opens the hatch and slides into the chamber.

Pudge immediately starts looking for any kind of panel he can remove so he can hardwire into cryo unit's computer systems, altogether avoiding any outside attempts to sever his connection.