Aug 03 23:54:03 108 PA - Raiding a Fortified Warehouse and Expecting to Get Away With It
From Chronicles
Aug 03 23:54:03 108 PA.
TOWN OF LARAMY
Most of the Kingsdale-Laramy convoys run during the day in order to lessen the chance of ambush or attack. This convoy was no different, departing Kingsdale at around eleven in the morning, and arriving at around two in the afternoon, having taken a leisurely pace on safe roads. After all, no one wants to end up blowing an axle and spoiling the run. Like clockwork, the trucks of the convoy are processed in and out of the warehouse that the Coalition had expanded by leaps and bounds once its non-occupation-occupation began. The sky is bright, and the citizens of the Town of Laramy seem happy enough, going about their regular business unhindered by the CS presence. The warehouse has been enlarged and strengthened by the Coalition's local engineering company. Its footprint is roughly two-thirds that of a football field, and either constructed or secondarily armored with high-impact materials. The fact that it's four-stories high just makes it that much more imposing. From all outward appearances, there is only one way in or out, the main door that faces into Laramy. Not directly at the convoy trails, but close; it would be difficult if not impossible for a madman to speed down the road and try to drive into the huge edifice, and that's probably why the entry is where it is.
The entry itself is large enough for two large cargo trucks to pass one another, or even two Mark V APCs to pass one another going in or out. It's guarded (most visibly and obviously at least) by four Coalition infantry using modern armor and weapons. A tech, or sometimes a pair of techs is there to make a cursory inspection of the cargo and check it into the warehouse; alternatively, to properly check a truck out of the huge building. A single officer, clad in modern gear just like the infantry stands watch. All of them seem to take their jobs very seriously. They're buttoned up for combat and look like the kind of people who are just waiting for an excuse to kill someone if for no other reason than it's been a while. Otherwise, a pleasant day for anyone to be out for a stroll. At a first glance at least, there is nothing sneaky going on here.
Valeriya is present, been watching the warehouse from the window of the bar for a while now. But only recently has she watched it with interest as the convoy was processed. In this time she's been observing to get a vague idea of the shift changes from inside to outside, or any other travel in and out by the guards. How useful the observation was will be put to the test shortly as she readies herself to infiltrate the building with a protection and concealment spell.
Bartholemew parks for the day roughly 9 miles from the warehouse and town, steering clear of the majority of patrol traffic that he observed during his hunter days doing recon. A place predetermined with Val and Bella so they know where to rendezvous. He finds someplace that has some terrain to lend to concealment and sets up camp. He makes camp as if he's out hunting, wearing cheap Urban armor and carrying his shotgun and L-20 Rifle. This is about it cept for his small arms that he usually roams town with.
Though not a large town, Laramy is quite big and bustling enough for someone to slip away into magical concealment without notice or surprise. As far a single man with a truck nine miles outside of town, the various monsters and mercenaries that inhabit the forest are more of a danger than anyone in Laramy. All but three light cargo trucks have processed into the warehouse at this point, the Coalition logistics machine running at its peak efficiency; can't say that Prosek doesn't know how to move supplies. As of yet, there has been no indication of any significant shift changes. The patrols that pass through the town itself are small and randomly timed.
Well then dinner not done yet, not the beast is still gorging itself on goodies. But maybe this is a good thing, Valeriya can get in as an additional tidbit. Hoping for fortune to favor the bold she moves ahead to climb onto the second truck waiting to be processed, finding a spot clear of openings or obstructions her invisible form would interfere with.
Bartholemew keeps an eye out for the dangers that may be present, keeping himself tucked away in a good spot to be able to play sniper on anyone that may creep up on his truck. From this vantage point he waits when he knows its time for Val to do her thing.
The cargo trucks may be of the smaller version, but they're still built for hauling heavy cargo. They are essentially giant, angular steel cargo containers with a cab stuck on the front and twelve-wheels along the bottom to keep it stable. As such, finding a handhold is a much bigger problem than finding a good location to stay out of invisible sight. The first truck is processed through, and the second vehicle is now under an admittedly cursory inspection.
Valeriya will give climbing onto the truck one more go, trying for the front or back corner of the container where the cab or door offer additional hand holds. But she still has to be cautious not to walk into any CS personnel now inspecting the truck as well.
Bartholemew does what any good soldier does when there is nothing to shoot at. Wait and watch, keeping alert for anything.
Clinging to the back of a truck like a gecko is better than nothing, particularly since all of the paperwork is being done up front. The techs do little more than inspect manifests and check on vehicle status, downloaded through a port into a minicomputer in order to maintain their vehicles at top efficiency. Two of the infantry roam the truck, primarily concerned with checking the undercarriage. Apparently, there are no immediate problems seen, and just like every other vehicle that goes in (or out), about five minutes pass. Eventually, the officer waves the truck forward and into the huge building itself.
Valeriya is in, first date has made it past first base. Now to find second base. She'll skirt away from the trucks and the immediate offloading towards cargo that was unloaded earlier. She has a particular target in mind, a crate or box big enough to to hold maybe a half dozen rifles but not too heavy in and off itself.
Bartholemew scans the surrounding terrain through his MOH for any signs of passing CS patrols, wildlife that could eat him and the random townsfolk out hunting for a meal. Anything that moves gets a second look to be sure its not a threat.
Inside, it is extremely organized. Not organized chaos, but actually quite organized; convoys coming in, unloading, loading and leaving with perfect Coalition clockwork efficiency. You have to give Prosek and his generals that; they know how to run logistics. Much if it is automated, with low-AI computers running cranes, pallets and other loading/unloading equipment exactly as the techs at the door had scanned them in. Crates move here, they move there, something gets out of their way just in time, or is placed right after it. It's like three-dimensional Tetris being played by a giant on a massive dose of methamphetamine. Still, there are two-dozen military technicians all over the place inspecting gear, crates, cargo, personnel and so on. Three infantry in old-model gear roam the floor, expertly dodging all of the movement going on around them. There is a small working inspection or perhaps office area toward the back, but no one seems much interested in anything going on there. Bright lights hang from the tall ceiling, illuminating every corner of the warehouse as if it were noon on the Sun-side of Mercury.
To be fair to the people running the warehouse, everything looks quite on the up-and-up. Undoubtedly there are some drugs, liquor, prostitutes and so on, but clearly only on the scale that would normally be expected at any location. It's neigh impossible to single out any one particular crate among the masses, and movement for those who don't work here very day is of necessity very awkward and stilted, never quite knowing when a piece of equipment will drop out of the sky or swing sideways. These aren't your grandfather's wooden crates with a master lock containing the Ark of the Covenant, either. No, these are steel containers, the kind that people use when they don't want their merchandise stolen. With only rare exception, the warehouse is full of these steel containers. It's true that they come in various sizes form elephant to refrigerator.
Valeriya mutters, still frustrated that the store was out of heavy duty garbage bags. But it's not beyond salvage, she has about 20 minutes left to do what she can. Next time she can do more. So for now she'll focus on finding a weapons crate of any size and following it to its destination.
Bartholemew's gaze flows across the horizon, all is still and quiet, just how he likes it for this type of operation.
All is quiet on the southeastern front, and a man with a camped truck can enjoy the day. Inside, machines continue to move these security crates around. They are identified only by barcode, which can apparently be changed with each run using OLED technology. No colors, no symbols, no identifying marks except for those apparently having been brought in by Kingsdale merchants peddling luxury items, which have been flagged with a green checkmark. The closest that one could guess to a weapons crate might be to pick one of the small - 'fridge sized - crates and follow it around. Of course, this is in no way a guarantee that it actually contains weapons. Just 'closest.'
Bartholemew lays there hiding in the underbrush just looking down on the truck and over the nearby landscape. Best case scenario, a long boring day.
Valeriya is nothing if not quick on her feet. She is also not too worried about the cameras just yet. If they were a serious problem they’d already be sending an army of goons after her. But they might come into play as she opens the crate she's followed to rest or on the next visit. So they are noted as important later, while the crate is important now. A gesture on its surface with a whispered phrase of alien dialect and it opens right up.
A single refrigerator-sized crate is followed, its personal significance of being chosen is known only to the person following it. As the invisible woman finds her way to where a the crate is set - with continual movement all around - and the words are spoken, hand-motions made, there is a small click. A very unimpressive small click. A tiny metal flap is now open, having been meant to have needed a physical key for access. Yet it reveals a digital locking mechanism with a seven-key entry sequence. The military doesn't screw around, even with civilian convoys, particularly the ones that may or may not be carrying weapons.
Bartholemew takes mock shots at passing birds, practicing his aim and ability to keep a bead on a moving target. Quietly, to himself, "Pow." as he takes the imaginary shot. Too bad he'll never know for sure if he'd a hit it or not.
Valeriya mutters again, increasingly frustrated by her lack of plastic containers to allow her to do more. She catches control of her frustrations just in time to silently avoid a passing tech. A little too close, more incentive to get done and get out. But then again her adrenaline is flowing freely now, starting to feel like the old days of space piracy. She places her finger on the digital lock and incants again.
Bartholemew occupies his time watching when he's not playing pretend on a passing bird. Nope, the truck don't look any more laden down than before, keep watching.
The digital screen goes blank, and though with the noise no clicking sound can be heard, someone with a delicate touch might feel such a sensation on her hand. Otherwise, the metal crate just sits there. The warehouse is bustling as ever.
Valeriya mutters as the open crate seems to call for investigation. Her timeline just got shorter. Still the warehouse is bustling, she might get what she needs before its too late. In a split second decision she decides that weapons or not she's not going to be able to open another crate this trip. So she doesn’t cautiously peek first, just reaches in to collect an armful of four or five items.
Bartholemew hears a rustle in the forest not to far off and trains his sights on the area only to find a little squirrel racing up a tree. Quick little bugger vanishes just as quick as it appeared.
Unfortunately, following a random crate is never a sure thing. You could get anything. In this case, the mage gets anything, in the form of long, ornate, beautiful and classy gowns destined for either the common commerce, or perhaps to be secretly waived away to some officer's concubines. That's what you get for choosing the mystery box. Of course, at this high quality, they're probably worth a few hundred or even thousand credits a piece. Still, a crate's metal lid opening up on a hinge all by itself is definitely a sight to behold, particularly for those working around it, guarding it, and keeping tabs on the entire warehouse. The floor staff, including the three roving infantry are momentarily stupefied. However, whoever has been politely watching all this time behind the surveillance packages isn't feeling quite so friendly, and a blast door starts to fall to block the door of the warehouse.
Drugs, grenades, gold, these were things that Valeriya was prepared to accept from her grab bag. Formal evening wear does not quite fit the bill. So time to take stock of what she knows, three grunts and one officer inside, rest are techs. None of which can see her for 15 more minutes, lots of time to change her score. Especially since she has five master keys with her. So now she unslings her rifle and lines up a shot at the approaching grunt.
The huge blast door falls closed with a massive CLANG as it dips into a trough meant to hold it steady. It obviously works by gravity alone, the kind of stop-gap measure where the electricity to an electromagnet is cut, almost like a dead-man switch failsafe. Those on the floor may not be able to see her, but someone can. While the techs scatter, the three interior grunts set themselves for combat. Never know when a captive isn't going to go quietly.
Bartholemew continues being a tree, well maybe not a tree, but a lump from its massive roots. Quiet and still he waits patiently watching the scenery of the countryside for life.
The first thing that all three soldiers do is to toss grenades in the intruder's direction, guided obviously by instructions alone. Two of the three grenades go wildly wide, but the third impacts right at the intruder's feet. Fortunately, in the interest of not blowing up their own merchandise, the guards aren't using explosives. Rather, it is a perfect impact for a tear gas grenade that one not in EBA would find debilitating - in this case, this does also include some techs who were unfortunately close.
Valeriya is alive. One point in her favor, though the way she feels she wishes she wasn’t. Immediately she focuses her clouded senses to summon a protective field against the noxious fumes. She'll be off balance for this one moment, they better have a good follow up.
Bartholemew wonders what pilfered treasures Val will send his way at some point. Weapons, drugs, silver plated serving trays. Anything is better than nothing.
The three soldiers act as one, more or less. As the intruder is invisible to their eyes, her shape - a very vague one - can be seen displacing the gas. Their three rifles are lowered, apparently having decided that an intruder refusing to surrender at tear gas is going to have to be taken down. Triggers are pulled, but only one laser blast hits its mark.
Valeriya is getting shot at, and this gas stuff is really lame. So that’s how those guards felt last time. But time to start working on her exit, reaching into her pocket she pulls and throws a single fireglobe at the back wall of the warehouse.
As the fireball smacks the rear wall and starts to smolder, the guard closest to the intruder's position is looking at the trigger mechanism of his weapon. After a few whacks, the activation lights blink back into being, but for the moment, he's otherwise occupied. The other two guards are not. They're closing, slowly, and stopping to fire those big C-10s of theirs, aiming on the absent space. The shots fly wide, the absent space untouched.
So her exit is in the works, how about some better loot? Taking another fireglobe she lobs it at the crates stacked towards the back wall. Maybe something interesting will be uncovered by the magic plasma.
Well, the back wall continues to burn, and not look very interested at the moment. Another randomly selected crate has been chosen, and is now smoldering itself. The three grunts take aim again as best they can, firing off two shots each. Of the six lasers, only two find their mark on the invisible being.
Alright getting shot at is kinda silly. Taking damage from it more so. And no repercussions from that is just ludicrous. So having set two things in motion Valeriya set her focus on some more protection before taking the offensive.
Bartholemew continues to simply guard his truck awaiting the rendezvous with Val later. Just keep the truck safe so it can haul away all the loot.
Two of the soldiers fire off shots exactly as they had before, aiming on the hole. The fires continue to burn, and while the soldiers continue to miss their target, it's not very fair to blame them for missing a target that almost no one can see. The first two who got the jump on the intruder both fire once at the misty area.
Bartholemew always hated pulling watch, but everyone has to pull there shift sometime, and today is Bart's shift and its gonna be a long one.
Suddenly, half of the lights flicker just long enough to get the attention of the guards who grab their rifles like prized blankets. In the distance, the ball of flame on the wall suddenly bursts through and into sunlight, creating a hole that some poor bastard in the engineering company is going to lose his commission over. However, the surprised techs and grunts won't stay that way for long, and a good ear would be able to pick up the distant roar of equipment.
Valeriya makes for the door, understanding that someone is giving her a break, for what it's worth. Though she's not exactly satisfied with her loot. In recompense she throws the three remaining fireglobes into the crate stacks as she flees. They will surely hurt the operation some more.
Indeed, burning crates in a military warehouse will probably not lead to just a lost commission, but probably some permanent time in a prison cell getting human booster shots from a guy named Molly. Soldiers wearing the insignia of Company C have nearly completely surrounded the warehouse, including four armed hovercycles and a fully functioning Mark V. Even as the intruder escapes, there are spatters of energy around the hole, just in case. The commander of the 23rd is not going to be happy about any of this. It's a good time for everyone, military and civilian both, to find a better place to hang for a week or so.
Bartholemew is what he is, a simple soldier that will stand his post as needed. Well, maybe stand his post as paid for. After all, even standing watch ain't free.
It will be late when the bundles arrives in the back of Bart's truck. But arrive it does. A bundle of expensive evening wear materializes there, better late than never. A sure signal to pick Val up outside Laramy and collect an explanation then.
