…Ah. The Exo blinks at Azwel for a moment, a quick shuttering of her optics before she grunts to herself. She reaches down and sets a quartet of small hardened radios on the table.
“Radio communication,” she says simply. “All set to a common channel. I’m guessing you aren’t familiar with using one of these. I’ll show you the basics on the way out. Anyway, unless you’re the one co-ordinating with the other team, we’ll stick to emergency comms only. No sense wasting the charge. These things have been unreliable enough as is.”
Blaze trusts Natasha and her judgment implicitly, but she also knows what the agent’s specialty is. Furiosa has the skill and experience to take the lead – and the Guardian didn’t overlook that suggestion that she delegate, after all. She nods to the Furiosa and Natalie both.
“As for who goes where: Romanov, Azwel, you’re with Furiosa on Alpha Team. Natalie and her squad will stick with me on Bravo. Unless anyone’s got an objection?” Flipping the naming conventions a little, but she has a preference and it’s not like it matters. Unless anyone’s got an issue with the arrangement, she’s going to power ahead and briskly point out the route on the map. If everyone understands where they’re going and what’s expected of them, there’s a better chance this will go off without complications.
There’s one more thing, before they go – Blaze hefts up four curved sets of sturdy metal plating. They’re roughly shield-shaped… but if they look like front and back cuirass halves hastily split apart and repurposed with some straps, it’s because they are. Makeshift shields, she explains with a shrug. If anyone on the team doesn’t find them too unwieldy, they’ll offer a degree of protection against most any fire they’re likely to encounter. But whether they take up that option or not, the group is swiftly marching out to the torches.
The first beacon is on the way, as Natasha guessed, and here they get a good look at one of their targets. It’s a sturdy, smooth metal spike rising up to about knee-height, with a reinforced black processor box and stubby antenna attached, capped by a silver cylinder. The tip of it glows with a soft green light, steadily flashing. Blaze shows them how to deactivate the beacon and pull it smoothly out of the ground, like uprooting a plant. Of course, it might be harder where it’s frozen into the ice…
That beacon gets stowed safely out of the weather in a nearby doorway, before the team keeps going. At the edge of the torches the Titan puts down the sled for a minute and settles her helm on her head, the pressure seals snapping together. Her face is hidden behind the blank mirrored plate when she turns to look back at the others, the bright yellow cloth at her hip fluttering in the rising gale. The snow hisses where she steps into it, her weight sinking straight through.
“Eyes up from here. Carbink, Volcarona, watch the rooftops. Romanov, keep an eye on our six. Everyone else watch our flanks. They’ve got plenty of chances for an ambush out there. Let’s go spoil their fun.”
With that, they’re off headfirst into the storm, the sudden wind threatening to blow their steps aside, the air swirling wildly with snow. One way or another, they’ll have to watch their path and make sure they don’t lose track of the people in front of them, as they crunch through the grey light of snowbound streets. Hopefully they’re equally difficult for others to see…
no subject
“Radio communication,” she says simply. “All set to a common channel. I’m guessing you aren’t familiar with using one of these. I’ll show you the basics on the way out. Anyway, unless you’re the one co-ordinating with the other team, we’ll stick to emergency comms only. No sense wasting the charge. These things have been unreliable enough as is.”
Blaze trusts Natasha and her judgment implicitly, but she also knows what the agent’s specialty is. Furiosa has the skill and experience to take the lead – and the Guardian didn’t overlook that suggestion that she delegate, after all. She nods to the Furiosa and Natalie both.
“As for who goes where: Romanov, Azwel, you’re with Furiosa on Alpha Team. Natalie and her squad will stick with me on Bravo. Unless anyone’s got an objection?” Flipping the naming conventions a little, but she has a preference and it’s not like it matters. Unless anyone’s got an issue with the arrangement, she’s going to power ahead and briskly point out the route on the map. If everyone understands where they’re going and what’s expected of them, there’s a better chance this will go off without complications.
There’s one more thing, before they go – Blaze hefts up four curved sets of sturdy metal plating. They’re roughly shield-shaped… but if they look like front and back cuirass halves hastily split apart and repurposed with some straps, it’s because they are. Makeshift shields, she explains with a shrug. If anyone on the team doesn’t find them too unwieldy, they’ll offer a degree of protection against most any fire they’re likely to encounter. But whether they take up that option or not, the group is swiftly marching out to the torches.
The first beacon is on the way, as Natasha guessed, and here they get a good look at one of their targets. It’s a sturdy, smooth metal spike rising up to about knee-height, with a reinforced black processor box and stubby antenna attached, capped by a silver cylinder. The tip of it glows with a soft green light, steadily flashing. Blaze shows them how to deactivate the beacon and pull it smoothly out of the ground, like uprooting a plant. Of course, it might be harder where it’s frozen into the ice…
That beacon gets stowed safely out of the weather in a nearby doorway, before the team keeps going. At the edge of the torches the Titan puts down the sled for a minute and settles her helm on her head, the pressure seals snapping together. Her face is hidden behind the blank mirrored plate when she turns to look back at the others, the bright yellow cloth at her hip fluttering in the rising gale. The snow hisses where she steps into it, her weight sinking straight through.
“Eyes up from here. Carbink, Volcarona, watch the rooftops. Romanov, keep an eye on our six. Everyone else watch our flanks. They’ve got plenty of chances for an ambush out there. Let’s go spoil their fun.”
With that, they’re off headfirst into the storm, the sudden wind threatening to blow their steps aside, the air swirling wildly with snow. One way or another, they’ll have to watch their path and make sure they don’t lose track of the people in front of them, as they crunch through the grey light of snowbound streets. Hopefully they’re equally difficult for others to see…