The Raid: ICU

August 01 2014: Partisan Nancy Bobby and Angelo rescue the N series mutants from North General Hospital.

North General Hospital, New York

Shut down and abandoned years ago, Hydra has carefully maintained the fiction that the building is empty so that they can use it to gather and train their N-Series Mutant operatives.



  • Jinx - The Bad Luck Operative
  • Nameless Hydra Security
  • N-Series Victims/Operatives

Mood Music:
[* None]

North General Hospital. Abandoned. Defunct. For the most part, forgotten about. One has to wonder how much of a hand, if any, Hydra had in arranging for the staffing failures that doomed the hospital in the first place. It all seems a little too convenient. The hospital has proven to be the perfect urban base for them. Large, roomy, easy access to the city but more than enough privacy to operate what amounts to a covert assassination and recon unit composed of homegrown mutants.

It's near two AM when the choppers carrying the rescue team make their approach. The initial landing and breach have to be quiet to preserve secrecy. The moment they make it, Jericho will kill cell communications and land lines in a three block radius to prevent 911 from interfering, but even so, this has to stay inside the building. Otherwise…

There's no welcome wagon, thankfully, when the choppers land on the twin helipads. Stairs and elevator access are both options. Jeri's intel suggests that the interior walls have been reinforced and the CCTV security measures upgraded. The mutants are being housed in the old ICU on the 4th floor, three floors down from where they've landed. The building is, in fact, mostly empty despite the large security compliment, staff, mutants and hostages. Bobby dismounts from the chopper and waits to follow everyone's lead, gas mask already on. He's armed, though he hopes he doesn't need to do anything but get people to -heh- chill out.


Partisan1 turns to the rest of the chopper with a sage nod.

"Ten seconds! Watch your corners! No Surrender. No quarter! No Mercy! Fuck their shit!"

And with that stunning bit of inspiration, Part is off like a -shot- sprinting across the roof with nary a grunt before sliding up to her door and stacking off to one side with a crouch. She'll try the handle to see if it's locked before going explosive, of course. Right hand lifting to her throat mic.

"When we get to the top floor, Nancy, Bobby. Bring up the elevator and block the doors from closing with a chair, Understood?"


Thanks to being a conduit to Light, Angelo can't actually get 'butterflies in the stomach' because they're a symptom of excess adrenaline, and his body regulates that stuff. Instead, he tried to rest, and his 'mentor' took over for him for a few hours, buying a cheap charm bracelet made with low-grade silver, and imbuing each charm with power. There are thirty charms, each of which has a single charge of energy, and a new pattern has been drawn in gold ink on the back of Angelo's hands, for faster and more powerful access - the left hand has the spell Shades of the Seraphim - a more powerful concealment and protection spell. The right hand, the Sphere of the Seraphim - a containment spell that isn't as strong as the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak, but which also come without the debt to that entity. Angelo, when he woke up, was kind of annoyed to see them there, but he knows that at least these ones can be washed off.

He's not dressed as 'the seraph' — instead, he wears doctors' scrubs, in a dark blue that is not the green or grey of Hydra; he has an ironwood staff strapped across his back. He doesn't have a gas mask, instead relying on a scrubs mask with a small glyph on the front.

The Shades of Seraphim is cast, covering Nancy and the Partisan, and generally making it harder for Hydra to know what's happening. The primary beneficiaries will FEEL them settle around them like a weightless cloak.


Nancy hops out of the helicopter, mask already on and bristling with weapons. Grenades, guns, more clips then a hair salon. She's already wearing her own gas mask, just as much for protection of identity as for the gas attacks that will be coming.

The door to the stairway is indeed locked. "Hold off on the explosives. There is a quieter way." Nancy looks to Bobby, he can't see her smile, but he can hear it in her voice. "Think you can chill that down to the point we can simply break it?"


Bobby nods. "Yeah. Sure thing."

He steps away from Nan, getting the distance he needs to feel the chill in his bones again. The handle and then the lock rime over. In a few moments the whole thing is cracking audible if quietly… And then Bobby just pulls the handle off, and pushes the lock out the other side. He steps back, deferring to Ange and Parti.

"Okay. I'll follow your lead."


Partisan posts up with that Ultimax2 at shoulder.

"Don't play fair kids," And then she flings the door open and with suppressed drum fed machinegun gun out front she makes entry. Those deshanked jungle boots carrying her down the stairs ever so silently as she goes.

"2-1, successful entry. Kill the electronics. Attention all stations this net priority traffic, Code green I repeat code green."

The final coded command to indicate the raid was to advance as planned at full pace. Part meanwhile is moving towards the top floor entrance, pausing stacking off to the side as she reaches up to check the lock.


"Wish we'd brought Satchel Jamie with us. He'd be helpful," Ange mutters. He goes in, listening to the advice of his mentor, who has snuck into enemies' encampments and cities thousands of times — basically the same thing, usually fewer guns and more swords and arrows. Just go in, hold position, let the advance scout do the hard work, get to the objective.


Nancy shakes her head. "Jamie helps Jamie. Nice guy, but I don't know him well enough to cover my back in this sitch, sorry." She takes one last look over the roof, making sure there are no other exits that HYDRA can slip out of before heading to the elevator with Bobby. "We're good to go."


Jericho's communications blackout is now in full effect. No power crash because it wouldn't affect the hospital with backup generators anyway and they don't need the attention. Bobby checks his weapon, extrudes a baton of ice into his hand and falls in behind Nancy.

"Right Miss Partisan." He nods at Parti's directive.

The interior of the hospital is poorly lit for the most part, to maintain the illusion of it being abandoned. Only the areas in use are lit. But that doesn't mean those are the only areas patrolled. All the CCTV works just fine and there are guard checkpoints at every one of the three possible entrances. Including this one. Checkpoint in this case just means three guards with suppressed carbines. M4s it looks like, and Tasers. They're all wondering why they suddenly have no cell reception. And since the Venom is a pretty quiet chopper piloted by an expert, so the landing was somewhat less than obvious.


"1-1. Not alone, going hot."

Part side steps out of the doorway, hooking a knee behind the frame to balance herself as that LMG swings up and -pop-pop-pop. She rattles off three quick headshots, before advancing coolly into the floor proper.

"Two more stations, keep low."

Heading for the next nearest guard station already in that classical sort've low groucho march they taught every SF kid during the seventies and eighties. Proper oldskool technique in action then.

"Start blocking doors off, don't miss any kids."


"Wasn't asking you," Ange says. "A portable army of medical assistants, in a situation where we may need more hands than we have? If I'd known about him before, I would have brought it up at the planning meeting."

The Seraph would be chewing her a new orifice for failing to share information that could be the thing that keeps those civilians alive. Angelo, just points out the reason, without the flaming sword punctuation. Jeri's right, the mentor guy is kind of an ass.

Moving past the guard post, Ange is now full-light, wings out and held in an arc over his body, looking for the glow that says there are living people in the rooms they approach so he can warn Partisan. Strangely, his illumination casts no shadows. He murmurs the information as they move, expecting she can hear it.


Nancy watches as Partisan makes quick work of the three guards. She says nothing, being all business right now. She'll be her usual mushy, pacifistic self after this is all done and over with. She slips in when told the area is clear and heads to the elevator, calling it up to the top floor. She has her job and that's what she's going to do. "Like I said, I don't know how trustworthy he is. Having an army of Jamie's here would be all great and fine, till he decides it's more fun to just leave us all to die."


Bobby brings up the rear. Sealing off doors is really easy when you can just ice block them. Literally.

Ange can sense two more check points up ahead, one on each floor before the 4th, where the ICU is. That's where things are going to get hairy. He can easily sense the presence of the mutants, thirteen of them, plus a lot of people who are probably 'medical staff' and 'handlers' based on their position, and a scattering of security over the entire floor. Neither party wants this to get noisy… but it probably is going to get messy. Fortunately no one seems to know they're he-

Partisan's superior hearing picks up the radio as she approaches the second checkpoint.

"Alert, alert. We have hostiles inside. Scrambling the Ubermensch. Hold them when you see them."


Partisan reaches up to casually flip that locking lever, and with that the Ultimax's suppressor clatters to the floor. There goes being subtle, now a can's only use is to get hot and get in the way. Part opens fire without pause, without a flinch of any semblance of anything you could call hesitation. A sharp, rapid fire ten round barrage sent at the next guard station, followed by another ten round burst at the one behind.

"1-1 go loud, seal the doors -now-." Finally picking up the pace to dump quick five and six round strings into each guard she comes across, before sliding to a stop at the next stairwell and advancing into it.

"1-1 stairwell east side, seal the doors and admit none. Don’t forget the elevator. 1-1 going solo, keep safe kids. Will call clear as I go."


Angelo would mimic the "Mama Wolf Shush" at Nancy as they're getting closer and closer to the danger, but he doesn't have time to do that. The words 'scrambling the Ubermensch' are spoken elsewhere, but they trigger an instant danger sense for Angelo. A vision of disaster that leaves him a mere two seconds to stop it.

He has to MOVE.

-One second-

For a moment he's moving past Partisan, into the ICU, wings flashing and feathers of light flying into the air.

-Two seconds-

Feathers slicing into patients without physical harm, stun-bolts that will burn away at the sickness of their conditioned obedience.

-Three seconds-

The ironwood staff is in his hands, spinning, like a bar of light, slapping against the heads of handlers and one gun-toting guard. If they wake up, they won't know who they are. Reset Button.

Then the burst is over and he lands in a defensive crouch, whirling - because he didn't take out everyone. Maybe not even all the patients.


Once the elevator arrives, Nancy keeps it open by hammering a wedged spike at the beginning of each door. Those won't be coming out without a lot of work. She looks over to the door, letting the others pass before she and Bobby lock the doors with walls of ice. Nancy is keeping her field as close as she can for now, frowning at the mention of the Ubermensch. These are people like her. Victims. She is way in the back when Angelo practically vanishes. "Just us now," she says to Bobby. "No one passes us."


Bobby nods silently and steps away from Nan, trusting her to cover him while he ices doors and stairwells. No one escapes, at least not his way, and no one comes in. That's the idea anyway.

Ange got six of the ten patients immediately in the area and stunned a fair number of the guards. Three of them, well apparently they'd been on their way out. No telling where they are now. At least not without ignoring the fact that about thirty armed security guards are converging rapidly on his location, guns a-ready.

The Victims themselves are all in some kind of nomex and kevlar armored uniform. The ones Ange got all look dazed and confused. But one, a little blond slip of a girl, lunges at Ange, aiming for exposed skin. If she can manage to connect… well, her power is telepathy by touch, and she's got a lot of practice twisting minds into pretzels that would give the authors of the DSM a whole volume's worth of new material.


Partisan winces as Angelo sweeps past, "God damnit, follow the fucking plan you cuntnuggety mother fucker!"
Part lowers her MG for a moment, before lifting a hand to her throat mic.

"Off plan, off plan. 2-2 is off the reservations, keep the floor secured."

She moves swiftly otherwise, securing stair case doors with neat little nylon straps made for school shootings actually.

"I can hear company, we're about to get kicked off 1-1 out." And onto the floor she starts dropping tear gas grenades. Letting them fall quite casually before punting them across the floor, walking just ever so casually towards one of the few doors she left quite intentionally unsecured and taking a knee. Ultimax leveled at the ready for the crush of humanity about to poor through that fatal funnel.


Only hit six of the ten? There should be thirteen, that means seven more are out there somewhere. He doesn't say anything to Partisan; he told her before that if he saw something she couldn't, he'd be dealing with it. In this case, keeping her werewolf ass from being kicked by several of those synthetic mutants while she 'protected' him from their guards. Three more darts are readied, and then… the danger sense didn't say anything about the slip of a mind-bender with her touch-attack… it turns out that, well, imposing mental illness makes physical changes.

She gets contact. Twisting perception, fouled up connections, neural misfiring, an imposition of illness, a twisting of the brain and the mind… washes away in a second of blinding light that feeds back up her hand, the pulse of healing more explicit than the feather-blades. Stun.

"Woah. That's … haven't felt like that since Paul's stupid friend slipped shrooms into the spaghetti… HEY. ALL YOU N-SERIES GUYS. We're here to get you and your friends and relatives OUT of here to a safe place."


Coming out from around a corner is a young woman, smirking.

"No use talking to them. They're all nice and sedate and have been told to only do as I tell them." She then leans against the wall and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Let the bad times roll. Get them, boys." Two men come out from behind her, weapons in hand.

Nancy paces by the door that they are keeping secure. Nothing past this point. She can hear the action, but doesn't leave her spot in spite of her wanting to. She clenches her jaw, pacing the floor. Staying put and out of the action is driving Nancy mad!


Partisan grunts, swinging that MG over as she breaks cover in a dash. Dropping a knee to slide out from behind a partition beside the trio of newcomers, and Partisan wastes no time in getting down to business. That Ultimax surges to life with a long unbroken stream of M855, letting the raw bark of that machinegun light the place handily and flood it with more than a little racket.

"1-1, I'm engaging!" The fire is stabilized well, but swept back and fourth between the three in a smooth sweeping press as she digs a heel into the smooth floor and pops immediately back up to her boots.


Bobby hasn't sealed off the door behind Parti yet because, well, if things go well they might need to come back through it. And as bad luck starts to roll out, one of the ice seals he'd made cracks… just in time to admit a squad of five Hydra security from the stairwell.

"Nancy!" Bobby calls out a warning as he throws ice to slow them down.

The security forces crouch around corners and take Ange under fire but a fair number of them do indeed walk right into Parti's field of fire. Which is the last thing most of them ever do. Staff have dived for cover at this point, the scientists much too keen on living to fight either Angel or Partisan.


"You think so?" Ange has three feathers ready, and all three are launched, in separate arcs, slicing at the Quisling mutant. Stun, cleanse, but it looks like she has chosen Hydra, so, sleep, if all three strike their mark.

«"Shield of Seraphim"» puts a wall of light between the patients and their controller, and Angelo smiles at the men, unseen under the mask.

Bullets are turned away by the staff, two of them in the direction of the new girl's bodyguards. Ricochet. One of them strikes his arm, leaving a red streak that knits visibly in a flash of light.


Nancy turns when she hears her name. Must remind Bobby not to call her that on a mission. She starts shooting at them with the rifle, using the tazer rounds that were her birthday present. A kick in the chest hard enough to break ribs, followed by being zapped. Insult to injury, Nancy's favourite weapon of choice.

As the feathers fly at the woman, she laughs. The feathers miss their mark, all three.

"Oh honey, you don't know who you're dealing with. I'm bad luck incarnate. You can't touch me." She pushes herself off the wall and starts to walk away, blowing a kiss Partisan's way.

"There's some luck for ya. All of it bad though, I'm afraid."


Partisan's gun jams. Which it shouldn't. She takes waaaaaay too much care of her kit for it do that for any other reason other than a one and a million freak chance. What are the odds, really?

Some bullets skip and whine off the light shield but, more bad luck, most focus on Partisan. Who, let's be honest, gets lit the f—- up. .223 pours in from three directions through the doorway, all onto her, slapping into armor and rending flesh.

Bobby, meanwhile has his hands full. The team of five split off as Nancy attacked and now he's got two of them. Ice lances out and binds arms and legs. Okay, now he's got one of them but that guy's got a really itchy trigger finger and keeps bobby ducking from cover to cover.


Nancy is backing away from the group that is coming at her, mostly to keep them at the range that is most effective for her firing at them. She doesn't look where she is backing into though and backs right into another person.

"Hello, little sister," says the young man. "Glad you could finally join us."

Nancy is so shocked that she doesn't have time to stop him from sticking a needle at her throat and injecting her with something. She staggers and falls to the floor, looking confused and disoriented. The one that injected her looks down at her.

"O'Neal. Status report. What are we dealing with and who can you power down?"


The moment that LMG3 goes down, Part is already reaching for her side arm when the fire pours in, and things go very badly very quickly. She side steps wildly, as rounds pour in and down she goes. Limp, for just a moment maybe too. She is not, however out of the fight quite yet. Blood pools on the ground around her as that gas mask gurgles and warbles, blood weeping from the seals and running down the sides of her face as she manages to roll onto her back. Legs limp, as she manages to hit the sling release for that Ultimax and push it away with one hand as the other produces that 1911 from her holster4 and gets to work. Pouring crudely aimed 3-4 round groups after her attackers, as her left hand drunkenly gropes after her spare mags. Still once that 1911 goes quiet, she gives the thing a snap and with a flick of the wrist that empty goes skitting across before it's back in the fight. Legs stirring weakly, as she already starts reaching for that trusty Krinkov5. Bitch is gonna have to try a hell of a lot harder if she wants to drop The Partisan.

"1-1, last stand. Perimeter fallen, I've lost control. Seal all the entrances, if I don't report in five minutes leave. 1-1 out." Thankfully she can at least move her left hand well enough to peel the seal of her gasmask loose and out comes more than a little bit of blood and bits of bright pink flesh. Pieces of lung.

Part grunts with effort as she rolls onto her side and curls up to brace that 1911 more effectively, pouring on fire with increasing rapidity and accuracy as she fights tooth and nail to beat back the tide of bodies. She's down to whipping empty magazines at her attackers, before out comes the trio of CS grenades6 she duct taped together. Jerking them from their pouch and letting the rings pop in sequence before hurling the package across the floor. Her muscles ache, her head is swimming. Lactic acid floods her system in equal amounts to honest to god adrenaline finally, her spine and lungs healing rapidly and soon she lets that smoking 1911 go back into it's holster. A blood soaked glove sweeps off the safety on that AKSU7 and she struggles up to one knee to get herself back into the fight by sheer force of willpower. Draining that 75rnd drum as she pants and coughs and hacks raw pink tissue and pink blood into her mask, she can feel the wolf in the back of her mind. Urging her onward, she has a pack to protect. She has men to murder, her business is not concluded just yet.

"Come and get me you amateur hour chuckle fucks!"


The feathers miss, but like bullets and darts, they don't just vanish. Magic backed by will guided those blades, not aerodynamics. So they seek new targets, striking three of the Hydra people - most likely, staff rather than soldiers because it would be too lucky if they hit soldiers. Of course, the amnesia following the strikes won't be terribly lucky for the staffers, but that's a future problem.

As the girl turns her back, Angelo moves again in a high speed burst; his left hand has a glowing iron-wood staff that looks like something Darth Maul would drool over, except for the lack of a handle; the right hand carries a needle not unlike the one that was just used on Nancy. Angelo's not relying on luck. He's not quite touching the ground, to prevent slipping. He's using his trained skill to target and hopefully inject, and his speed to move between heartbeats. He's hit by several bullets, but the Shield he cast on himself earlier is still keeping them from penetrating too far. And if the needle doesn't hit, he'll pump a stun-jolt or three directly. And if that fails, there's a third option… maybe.


Screw getting shot at. Bobby just summons a second ice baton into his hand and rings the guys bells real good. Then breaks his wrist and two of his ribs. You're done. Thank you. Come again.

"Okay, I think we're secu-NANCY!" Not good. No. No. Good at all. The batons sharpen into wicked looking spikes. Bobby looks pissed.

The two gunmen Nancy had been backing from each get a sharp ice-spike in the lungs. You're done. Thank you. Come again.

The ice nerd grabs for one of Ange's power-negating epipens that he'd passed out as he goes right for Nancy. He's got to shut her field off and now. Then this jerk is getting the cold shoulder…

The press of people is less now. Much less. The press of bodies? That's pretty epic. There's still about half a dozen active shooters though, most of them focused on Partisan. And, luck girl, of course. They're trying to close. They think Partisan has to be close to done. Maybe they can catch her.

Wouldn't Hydra like that?


Nancy looks up at the young man that just injected her, her mask making her look like some sort of weird doll.

"Party of five here. Two more down below. Only one whose powers I can affect." She's telling them everything. She is offered a hand and takes it, being led down a hallway.

"Time for us to go. Jinx is down and that means bad luck isn't on our side anymore."

And Jinx is down, Angelo manages to get to her, and injects her.

"What the hell!" She staggers and holds onto where she was just shot. She shakes a hand at him and… nothing. "You fucker!"


It isn't a scream of terror, or pain or anything of the sort. It's a war cry, as she finally gets to firing on nearly all cylinders again. Rising shakily to her boots as she gets back to hurting feelings.

"Die motherfucker die!" When that Krinkov goes dry, she changes tactics and hurls that empty 75rmd drum at a guard's face in a stunning 150mph fast ball. She's got a forty jacked into the Krinkr in a flash, and she ups the violence further. Advancing into the hailstorm of bullets as she goes full cyclic, that cute little fuzzy red dot bouncing between T-zone shots as she picks these fuckers apart one at a time.

One gets around her side and starts at her with a cattle prod, only to catch a kerambit8 under the jaw, before with a heave she drags him around in front of her. grinding that AKSU into the base of his spine before she cuts loose, spraying death through him whilst using him as a shield. Spraying equal amounts of brass and gore after her attackers, before dropping him like a sack of shit and taking a leap into the crush of them with another furious scream. Krinkov clattering to the ground as those kerambits audibly whistle as they're swung from attacker to attacker, unzipping each in time and pouring intestines, blood, bile and all manner of nastiness as she goes. One tries to run, only for her to grab the drag handle on the back of his plate carrier and swinging him back hard enough to splatter his skull against the door jam.

"Fuck you fucking amateur hour worthless motherfuckers! I'm right here you fucking cowards, you fucking worthless cunts I'm right here come and get me!" Shoulders heaving in time with panted breaths, before she thinks to key her mic. "Level three clear, advance and shut the floor down. Moving to floor 2, 1-1 out."


Nancy starts to walk where she is told. The N series that is holding her hand points her over towards an exit they hadn't gotten to yet, sending her straight to the Emergency ward. "Go meet your brothers and sisters there. We're all going to go and change the world." He then turns to look at Bobby. "A little sooner than we had planned." He walks over to Iceman. "Now can't have Romeo saving the day, so… You just want to go to sleep."


There it is. The moment. Those brilliant translucent glowing wings turn blood red and multiply, growing solid. The creature now holding the glowing stick says something, bright-edged words in a language that died six thousand years ago.

"Faltine's fires of emerald pain,
Shades of Seraphim in star-broken night,
Winds of Watoomb o'er endless plain,
Take you now past mortal sight!

The vortex that spins open and closed takes less than a second to remove the depowered Jinx to a very different place.

The Seraph relinquishes his control of the body to the original. Dammit, Jamies would be so useful right now to herd these guys OUT. The shield will hold the seven in the ICU from leaving. The two-second alarm strikes him again - Ange speeds back to where Nancy and Bobby were, hoping to get there in time … a wing-feather thrown — at Nancy. To purge the poison that has her under control.


The suggestion to sleep hits Bobby like a ton of bricks. And then he sees Nan wander off. Oh. Hell. No. He slumps forward, pretending to be drowsy. It's not that hard because he is, rather suddenly. Then once he feels Nan's power recede, his hand snaps up as jagged ice covers him from head to toe.

"Just. Shut. Up."

Ice crystallizes out of the air around the very suggestible young man. He's going to be covered from head to food in ice in very short order save for his nose. Bobby's pissed.

Security is officially done for. There aren't any left active, though perhaps a few who aren't dead yet.

"A message comes in from the other team. 'Securing hostages now. Breaching ER in three, two, one. Breach!"


Any poisons that were in Nancy are successfully purged as she lurches forward from being hit with the light feather. Sadly, the injection was a glucophage, tailored specially for the N Series, dropping her blood sugar down to as low as it can be. She isn't poisoned now, just in her 'Zombie Nan' state, and so she continues to walk along to where she was told to go. Out the door.

The young man with the charming voice doesn't say a word. He was told not to. It's one of the flaws that HYDRA has yet to address. Instead, he is covered head to toe in ice. Nancy, however, is gone.


Partisan lifts a hand to her throat mic, "2-1, see to 3-1 and 3-2 please at your leisure. Interrogative, what’s your status there? Am sweeping lower levels, but we believe we are a go for site exploitation. How copy?"

Kicking one of the security guards onto his back, before casually putting two in his face and advancing downwards. So no, not to plan at all but looks like they'll pull this off.


"2-2 here, we have nine of thirteen here, 3-1 is compromised and missing. Completing extraction now."

Angelo isn't even going to deal with walkers; he's going to take the Sphere and carry them out like hamsters in a hamster-ball.

"2-1 Here." Aspect's familiar voice breaks in from the other team. "We've got the ER exit locked down. Moving inward. Don't worry. Not leaving anyone behind. Only three ways out of this place and one is sealed on both sides. Will pick up any strays. Out."

Bobby's jaw sets hard but he does make the tough call to not go haring off after Nancy. Instead he reseals any exits that need it and goes to help Parti and Angelo clean up this mess.


Partisan pauses mid step, and things grind to a halt.

"1-1, keep me informed soonest 2-1. Consider anyone who messed with 3 to be a priority target, execute with extreme prejudice. Will continue as planned, 1-1 out. There’s a quiet moment there in the stairwell, somewhere between a moment and a minute really. Then her bloody sticky gloves dump that half full carbine mag, jack in a new one and with a shake of her head she gets back to work.

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