The Merc nods. He doesn't look at Serana, he's still staring ahead. "We intercepted their comm, heard that Pirle had ordered squadrons to advance on the Vault site." He takes a deep, ragged breath. "So we headed here too. Big stand-off. Loyalists and traitors trying to face each other down. We got no idea who's going to fire first, we only know that... that something's going down in the Vault."
Pudge has been doing some communication hacking of his own. It now sounds like Commander Pirle, leader of the rogue Mercenaries, is directing the assault on Ivory Cliff in person.
"Then this... this man, this thing comes out of the tunnel," the wounded Mercenary continues. "Someone starts firing, dunno if it was one of ours or one of theirs, some kid must have been twitchy... and he starts killing us. All of us. With his bare hands..."
There's half a dozen APCs positioned around the Vault entrance, but on closer inspection Serana can see one of them has suffered only superficial damage. It looks like Valon punched a hole through its side and pulled someone out through the gap. It's a hideous mess, yes, but the APC will still function. It's hardly a dropship, but it will certainly reach the Ivory Cliff base faster than a pedestrian.
Something feels wrong about this and Serana places it: this was bait. She knows a trap when she sees one. There are far more dead loyalists on the ground than renegades. Somehow Pirle knew what was going to happen here and deliberately lured her enemies to the site.
Meanwhile, while surveying the carnage, Wilhelm can hear muffled cries from beneath an upturned personnel carrier.
Rolls
Serana insight - (1d20+1)
(20) + 1 = 21