Tower 07, Level 37

Casing the joint proves easy, too easy for Dell's liking. Turns out the thieves had parked in what had been an old maintenance shack - the piles of trash obscuring most entrances save for one, which shows signs that it'd been cleared recently. The tarp only partially hides the ship, and the garage is open, allowing Dell and Domitia a clear view. After finding a good vantage point, a pile of trash tall enough to hide both bounty hunters, they reach the same conclusion.

"No movement." Domitia is the one to voice it.

"Maybe they checked out." Dell proposes.

"Maybe." Domitia checks her pistol, "Wanna go in?"

Dell mulls it over, thinking, "I'll go through the back; you go through the front."

"Hmm, works."

They split off, Domitia lowly crawling through the junk while Dell can maneuver through it like a hare in the grass. He doesn't like it; the trash reeks and it sticks to his boots. Instead of focusing on that, Caliger keeps his mind on the payout - the double payday will do great for him and Domitia. So much so he doesn't worry about the boots; he can buy new ones anyway. Reaching the ship, he finds purchase on one of the wings and pulls himself up. Carefully, he creeps over it, ensuring to keep his footing on the stitched-together tarp and not step too loudly. With this vantage point, he can see Domitia, who has made it to the door leading into the shack. Dell signals to her to go, and she breaches the door. As the bellator does that, Dell springs forth, grabs onto the garage door, and swings in SMG ready.

Only to find dead bodies and junk. Domitia bursts in, forcing the automatic door open, and sees the same scene as Dell.

It's a classic disagreement turned to betrayal, or that’s what it looks like to Dell. Two bodies, both human, both clearly augs, lie dead in very different positions. One is at the threshold of the garage, most of his head gone, face down on the ground. To Dell, it looks like he might've been trying to leave, walking out of whatever was happening here. This is supported by the fact that his weapons are still holstered; the other human clearly tried to put up a fight. Most of his torso is splattered against the wall, barely held together by what remains of his spine. He died pistol in hand, anger, and pain frozen on his face. Domitia kneels beside that one, wrenching a hand cannon from him. It's not the one Domitia used to have; this one is more snub-nosed, spiked at the end for use in melee. Domitia takes his ammo belt and looks over to Dell.

"He won't be using this." Domitia rationalizes.

"Can't deny that." Dell looks around, finding piles of stuff with more luster than everything else in the shack. "It looks like this is it."

Taking a closer look, he finds it's primarily parcel. Snail mail, something that, despite the revolution of the galactic net, still needs to be shipped. Worlds like Prospect, which aren't connected to the liminal net or have a liminal beacon, still rely on getting news via pre-recorded broadcasts or word of mouth. It's how the original news of Horizon's Crash reached Prospect, or that's what the locals say anyway. He began to sift through the boxes, noticing they were from the same sender, LCS - Liminal Communications Solutions. None of them were open and securely packed, so Dell couldn't hear anything move in them when he gave them a shake. Eventually, he finds one that has been opened. It's a bio-locked box with the titular Glowing Horizon logo on it. Dell pulls it forward, wrenching it open, only to find nothing in it.

"Fuck!" Dell tosses the box, "Can we not catch a break!"

"Dell--"

"They got it before us!" Dell points at the lockbox, "Fuck, now I know how Worth felt."

Domitia crouches over it, sighing, "Damn it."

"Well, we know who took it." Dell says, "Our contact said a guy left, right? Maybe he figured out what it was and iced the others?"

"Strong theory." Domitia remarks. "Where would he have gone?"

"That'd be a question for Sonny," The grumlian concludes, "He probably has a good idea where people offload shit like that."

Domitia sighs, "Maybe."

Dell detects doubt in Domitia's voice, "You don't think he does?"

"Our thief kills his buddies and only takes the shards." Domitia states, "Odds are, he knows what they are and how valuable they are. There's a good chance he already has a buyer in mind."

"So what? Sonny would know the buyer?"

"Or he is the buyer." Domitia proposes.

Dell shakes his head, "No, no, no, that doesn't make any sense. If he had the shards, he would've told us."

Domitia tilts her head and narrows her gaze at Dell, "You sure?"

Dell feels a measure of doubt step in. Sonny was a good guy, great guy even. He'd been able to rely on him during his days in the Family. Sonny had been the one to advocate for him to be Made. Loyalty to your guys and your boss was the bedrock of the Family. Yet that all shattered after just one wrong move, one wrong job. Dell never knew who tried to whack him, but he never suspected Sonny, never. Yet now, what Domitia is saying makes sense. From a cold, business mindset, why give something like that away for free? Dell shakes his head, still not able to accept it.

"Sonny wouldn't do that to me." Dell settles on, "Maybe some other schmuck, not me, though. We were brothers."

"You were brothers." Domitia emphasizes the 'were.' “Things can change. Bonds like that can break."

"Guess you might know something about that." Dell quips back.

"Know what?" Domitia asks, anger lacing her voice.

"You never talk about it, but I can guess." Dell begins to explain, "You always--"

Before he can finish, movement catches his eye, yet despite seeing it first, Domitia is the first to react. From the back of the garage, the shadows move, and from them, the barrel of a gun shines in the dark. The shadows solidify into actual shapes as the Reverends step forward. One of them, a beast of a human, steps forward, twin pistols ready to kill both bounty hunters. Silence reigns as the groups face off against one another. Already, Dell is thinking through how he will make it out of this. Domitia can handle them, but he's no bellator; he'll die far easier than she. Little hardcover between him and the fanatics, and the only way out is into a trash heap they are most certainly watching.

"Sonny sent you, didn't he?" The twin pistols-wielding Reverend speaks, his voice smooth and regal.

Dell can't lie; he knows they heard the argument, but he can be clever with the truth: "Just got hired to clean up some trash. That's all."

"Trash is already taken care of," He replies, "As you can see."

"Preem. Then we can leave," Dell glances over to Domitia, "Right, Dom?"

"See no reason for us to stay," Domitia replies.

"Do not lie. You were here for the relic. Weren't you?" He adjusts his aim, and Dell now feels the crosshairs on his forehead.

"Relic?" Dell replies, "I'm not here for any relic. I'm just here for the mail and the ship."

"It belongs to the Congregation now," he says smoothly. "And that is another lie. We are well aware of what Sonny has stolen from us."

"Would the Void appreciate such waste?" Domitia counters, "She counts your deeds, correct? Would she favorably consider the deed of shedding blood over material things?"

The Reverend leading things briefly glances at Domitia, "That is well spoken. But the object is more than Material. It was touched by the Void. Therefore belongs to her servants."

Underneath his goggles, Dell's eyes dart around, looking for any leverage, anyway he can bail himself out of this. He glances over to Domitia, her eyes meeting his own. Even with her enhanced physiology, this is a challenging fight. They need something to even the odds. His eyes finally catch a bit of red inner mixed with the junk - a lithium battery between him and the Reverends. He smiles a bit before raising his weapons up.

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"Okay, okay, you got us." Dell slowly moves to put his gun on the ground, subtly setting it to semi-auto, "Just gonna put it down nice, and--"

As he pulls the trigger, the whole garage lights up with sparks and colors.. He dives towards the wall, the shelves of junk giving him some cover. He recovers, stepping up, gun ready, finding Domitia dispatching the last ganger with a brutal slam of her new hand cannon, the two 'teeth' at the end of it dripping with blood.

However, there is no time for relaxing as the lithium batteries begin to burn, and once they start, they do not stop. Naturally, newfound panic fills Dell as he looks over the mail, which is why he is down here.

"Alright, fuck it, let's get going!" Dell starts running to the ship, "I'll get our steed ready!"

"Right!" Domitia says as she starts hauling boxes to the ship.

Dell pulls the tarp away, revealing a banged-up pond jumper. A CZ Transporter. Nothing fancy, the red paint job and pin-ups along the nose cost more than the ship, and with enough space to haul enough cargo to justify the fuel cost. He finds the door latch, and miraculously, it's not locked. Dodging out of the way of the cargo ramp, he goes right in, sees the ladder to the cockpit, and hurries up. The cockpit, stained with old blood and caffeine, would be tight for someone of a regular humanoid size, but it fits like a slightly oversized glove for Dell. He inserts the key Sonny gave him and tries to turn the engine over. It spurts, roars, and then sputters out.

"Ah, hell!" Dell curses.

"What's wrong?" Domitia asks as she starts loading the cargo.

"Damn engine," The grumlian tries again, the engine spurting the whole while, "Turbine must be stuck."

Taking a second to remember the vessel's layout, he turns around, finding the service hatch behind the cockpit. Dell takes it and pulls, the whole thing snapping off the hinge. With no more than a shrug, he tosses the hatch aside and crawls in.

"Alright, Worth," Dell thinks aloud, "Let's see how well you've taken care of this clanker."

Getting to the next access port, he pushes it open, the hinges groaning as Dell enters the engine bay. Nothing too spectacular, just a single ion engine generating lift from two turbines. They send force-down jets to the end of the craft's four wings, allowing for control of thrust and hovering. Nothing too fancy, but it's good if taken care of. Judging by how rusty the turbines are, they were not cared for.

"Brass heads," Dell grumbles as he looks over the turbines. "Where are you hurting baby?"

Suddenly, gunfire begins to pepper the ship, Dell, out of habit, dives for cover, only to remember where he is. He dusts himself off and gets back to work.

"Dell!" Domitia yells, "Get this thing off the ground, now!"

"Fucking trying!"

Dell frantically looks over the turbine; something is causing it to stall. The power cables are fine, and the thruster veins are rusty but okay. It's got to be in the turbine itself, he concludes. With practiced speed, he pulls out a multi-tool from his overalls. Finding the right bit head, he screws off the cover, heavier rounds piercing into the engine room, glancing around, stray cutting across his arm, blood trickling down. He works through the pain; looking at the turbine, he finds that a long negated fan has fallen off, embedding itself in the turbine wall, preventing the rest from turning. The whole thing must be replaced eventually, but it'll work for now. He pulls out some pliers and yanks the piece of metal out, or at least tries too.

The damn thing has nearly been fused into the metal, the heat produced melting it slightly, probably due to lack of coolant, another issue this rust box has. Dell resorts to putting his feet onto the turbine housing and yanking at the piece of shrapnel until finally, with a ping and tearing of metal, the loose bit is freed. After a short test of spinning the fans with his pliers and confirming that it's spinning without interruptions, he closes up the turbine housing and leaps to the access port. He rushes back to the cockpit, jumping into the seat.

Below, Dell can see Domitia through the ship's bubble cockpit. The bellator used her hand cannon in one hand and an SMG she pulled from a Reverend. Lying down, suppressing fire with one, and sending kill shots with the other. This won't last, he thinks; he has to get this ship running now. Holding his breath, he turns the ignition, and finally, the engine turns over, roaring to life. It's a pained, rusty existence, but the ship will get them out.

"We're good!" Dell turns on the thrusters and gets the vessel off the ground.

"Get us out of here!" Domitia yells as she slips onto the ship.

"On it!" Dell begins maneuvering the craft, and Domitia pulls the door closed as they take off.

"Did we get everything?!" Dell yells the roar of the turbines loud enough to drown out even the gunfire.

"Most of it!" Domitia shouts.

Dell's fine with that; now, he's only considering saving Domitia and his skin. His doubts about Sonny amplify before he remembers that he only has six meters of clearance. This rust bucket is eight meters tall.

"Ah, shit!" Is about all Dell gets in before impact. He manages not to get stuck or crash, which, in his view, is good. He does lose one of the thrusters, which isn't all that great. The craft begins to spin violently, "Fuck!"

"The fuck Dell?!" Domitia grabs hold of the ladder, barely able to hold on.

"We lost some thrust; give me a second!" Dell yells.

Recognizing that he needs to even the ship out, he puts more power on the port side, the side with the two actual working thrusters, and only a little power to the starboard. The ship starts to even out and then begins to lest, as the thrust and weight are uneven.

"Dom!" Dell screams, "Move your heavy ass to the right! As far as you can manage!"

Domitia stomps over to the starboard side, practically hugging the wall. While, comparatively, she doesn't weigh as much as the ship, it's just enough for Dell to play this risky game of thrusting upward at a angle. The important thing is he won't flip, which he gauges this ship wouldn't do well with. He's trying to ensure the whole thing doesn't stall, meaning he will have to fly around the tower, gaining altitude slowly but surely.

"Oh, this is just perfect," Dell mumbles to himself.

Feeling sweat pooling around his goggles, he white knuckles the controls, trying to see if he can figure out where he is about the tower. Soon enough, he sees hope, a beacon of light in the darkness. Daisuke Station, painted in bright colors. Steadily, he begins to maneuver the craft in for a landing, finding a nice, clear spot with no one around. From below, a flash of light catches his eyes. He then sees the tell-tale trail of a missile racing up towards them.

"Oh fuck." Dell takes a deep breath, knowing what he has to do. "Dom!"

"Yeah?!"

"When I say we are gonna flip, you cling onto something! Got it!"

"What--"

"We're flipping!"

Dell wrenches the controls and goes into the flip the ship has wanted to do this entire time. The whole thing tumbles end over end, somehow landing gear side down onto the station's platform. Metal crunches as he feels the ship list again to the side. A moment later, an explosion booms overhead as a missile takes a chuck out of the ceiling above. Rocks and steel rain down on the ship. Dell then turns the engine off, feeling himself melt into the seat.

"Oh, sweet Father." Dell says as he looks up, "Twice! Fucking twice! Can you fucking believe that Dom?"

Dell looks over, seeing the bellator with a particularly unamused expression, blood running down from a clearly broken nose. She reaches up, grabbing her nose, and, with a wet crunch, puts it back into place.

"I'll be honest, Dell," Domitia says after taking a sharp inhale, snorting out blood, "Hard to believe at this point."

Dell sighs, "Okay... let's just get off this rust bucket."

"On it," Domitia says.

Dell hears her heavy footfalls before a loud clang echoes out, and he sees the cargo door skid across the hanger bay. Caliger follows his partner out of the ship, and sees a host of blue jumpsuits on grav-lifts race toward the vessel. Domitia stands at the ready, Dell hopping onto her shoulder to stand by her. A group of them rush toward the ship, checking for any fires or leaks, and another begins to ascend upward with their lift, taking a look at the hole above them. One lift stops a few meters ahead of Domitia and Dell, a red-faced human with fading yellow hair jumping off the lift. Dell picks up the name Evans from a badge on his jumpsuit, and he can tell by his strides and the fury in his eyes that he's probably angry.

"What. The. Fuck!" Are the first words that come out of Evans mouth, spittle accompanying them, "The hell were you two doing! I want to see your licenses now!"

Both bounty hunters sigh and pull out their badges. The man's expression changes; he reads their names over again. He takes a step back and scratches his head.

"Not the licenses I expected..." He trails off, and although he's curious, his fury is still very present, "Care to explain why there's a hole in the ceiling?"

"Not our fault," Domitia answers plainly.

"Reverends decided to give us a parting gift." Dell explains, "We were trying to recover the asset for our client, that's all. They drew, we defended ourselves, and they decided to shoot at us."

"No fire or leak, boss," One of the workers chimes in.

"Get this wreck off the pad." Evans directs the other worker and then steps towards the bounty hunters, "I get that your industry is a little complicated, but doing this space cowboy shit ain't gonna fly! You understand?"

"We didn't have a choice, man; either we take a missile to the ass, or we die!"

"I don't care about you twos; I care if the fucking tower lives or dies. See this," He taps the patch on his chest, a spire with a cog over it, "Means I'm a union man. Means my father built this place, and I'm here to maintain it. We run this building, so don't--"

"Richard, Richard!" Zac's voice comes over the argument, "Come on, don't give them too hard of a time."

Evans groans, "Fuck sake, Zac," He whirls around, tools in his belt clicking and clanging together as he does, "Don't you dare try and interfere! This is Union biz!"

"And they were just doing their thing as well," Zac counters calmly. “Come on, how about you cool your jets? After all, it's not like they were the ones to fire the missile."

The boss runs a hand over his stubble, "The fuck you want with these two?"

"Just the merch in the ship. Our cut, anyway; the rest are yours."

"What fucking merch?"

"L-Chips, man," Zac says, affectionately patting Evans on the face.

The mood shifts as Dell begins to put it together. LCS makes chips to help run its networks; those same chips were also vital for cybernetics. Depending on the chip, it could run from a grand to ten Gs. That would explain why there’s so much strife over this.

"All this for computer chips," Domitia reflects, "Waste of blood."

"Hey, we're rich, though," Zac counters, "Come on, I'll take y'all to the bar."