Scene #5623: Prospektor's Revolt-1

Owner	Pose
Priscilla	There's no need to drag out this explanation. Everyone should know what their stake is here. When they said 'far out to sea', they weren't kidding though. Garit is almost halfway into the Pacific Ocean in terms of Earth-relative distance from the nearest main landmass. There's no coasts visible even when cruising at high altitude flight, and the island itself, while fairly large for such a lonely one, is Ireland-sized at best. Only parts of it are green, clearly originally organized into sensible partitions near the water, but now patchy and grown into the once-gleaming cityscape that occupies the vast bulk of the island, crammed into its borders and built into verticality rivaling that of Hong Kong. There are no clearly obvious places that are easy to settle down, since there isn't exactly a welcoming party there to meet any contractors. There are docks and 'helipads' for this world's aircraft, but none of them are staffed and all of them are in various states of disrepair. Two Warpgates still exist around here, one on the far western end where the cityscape is at its lowest point, stretching out into a less-planned ramble of century old domestic housing, probably belonging to the first settlers by their rustic looks, and one on the far eastern end, where farmland has turned to wild forest, and the cityscape starts extremely abruptly miles in the distance. Without much in the way of city infrastructure, picking a decent place is more or less a stab in the dark. Few lights still work, reading the power grid doesn't get much in the way of use, the streets aren't taking any traffic, and there isn't exactly an organized attempt to till the fields. Signs of life are restricted to large numbers of small fires, probably as many in oil drums as ones in intentional fire pits, and the odd activity in the green that must be more gathering than agriculture. The Concord, at least, are encouraged to meet roughly on the border of the villa and the rising skyscrapers at the west, brick, mortar, and tin to one side, and then glass, steel, and other things on the opposite. The former is dusty and vine-choked, but not unpleasant, save for its somewhat creepy, almost post-zombie outbreak emptiness. The other looks like it might once have bustled like New York, albeit with the streets lined with floating lanterns that largely no longer glow fairy blue, the roads packed with crashed vehicles of white sculpture and embedded quartz crystals, and signs that glow with simple glyphs that project illusory directions when approached. It looks slightly less like a plague of the undead hit here, though mostly due to the significant amount of clear weapon damage all over the place. Much of the city is crumbling, weather-worn, or choked in moss and grass creeping through the cracks, with birds making their nests in shattered windows and rusting rebar, but some of it still thrums with working power. It's an odd sort of mission, where the 'quest contractor' is all the way over the sea, and not present to hold anyone's hand. The people who are the core thrust of this --the problem themselves-- are nowhere to be seen at first.
Staren	Honestly, Staren's not so sure he trusts the 'quest contractor' or wants them here. They basically want the Prospekt enslaved or exterminated! Which is just no way to handle this. He'd like, of course, to try and help good people. But 'good people' aren't in charge of Galit, and any here are probably scattered across multiple warbands. Which means they'll have to be gathered somehow... Well, pretty much any plan short of extermination is going to require contact with the Prospekt. So it's a bit disappointing when he beams down to the city border to see no immediate signs of people at all. The few street lights and signs stil working obviously don't require regular maintenance, though the barrel fires do indicate that someone's been here recently, probably (he scans one to confirm it's not some strange style of decorative magic fire) Shouting Hello and attracting attention sounds like a good way to attract bandits, though. So instead, he looks for a building intact enough to get high up and scout from, and launches some small quadrotors into the air to start looking for signs of movement... although they might attract attention, anyway...
Kyoko Takada	Some people are going through a warpgate that brings them to the edge of the city. Expecting this, and not wanting to immediately cross their paths, Kyoko chooses the alternative, arriving at the edge of the farmland and the wilds. She lets August go in first, following in behind after a safe interval. Kyoko's dressed for what no doubt has been a harsh winter on some other world, if not quite igloo climes. The coat and scarf are nicer-looking than one would generally expect of anywhere a tenth this run-down, but she has yet to keep secondary clothing for dirty work, so it will have to do. She's hiding any nervousness regarding the location and lack of a large group to keep her safe in yet another mission that may suddenly devolve into fighting monsters (why does that happen so often, anyway?), having entrusted her present safety to one of her fellow Watch members. "Just don't count on me in a fight. Not for direct combat, anyway." He might remember from that race with The Constable, but "attacking things" just isn't in her repertoire. Her talents lie elsewhere, and she puts them to use immediately, starting up her scanning magic to try to analyze the area in the briefest, broadest sense, getting a handle on nearby sources of magic or dense machinery. If there isn't anything, that does increase the probability that they aren't in immediate danger. "Let's see what's nearby..." Her efforts are, as always, obvious to some extent, with holographic terminals popping up in the event that her magic finds something, and the magic itself being detectable to the sufficiently sensitive that are sensed.
Miari	After hearing of the myriad of fantastic ores available on Garit, and the wondrous abilities of the Prospekt - and all the unpleasant details of what had transpired - Miari finds herself at something of a moral impasse. She certainly could do much to restore the yoke upon Prospekt necks... But the news that they were bred of human stock has her instead unwilling to accept their complete subjugation. Or their extinction. She will have to hunt for a third option! She spearheads quickly from one of the Warpgates to the Concord meeting zone, and the smell of blood clings thickly about her like a drifting cloud. Peripheral vision sometimes detects a glint and gleam of some opalescent and beauteous sheeny thing, but fixing gazes reveals nothing. It's just Miari standing there, wearing an innocent but thoughtful expression that's DEFINTIELY her best attempt to poker face as both earthy brown scan the buildings. "Well. Just based on the sitrep... it's likely we'll need to wipe out a great deal of hostile Prospekt. I would see them given recognition and purpose, and hopefully a number will take an offer I have... but there is simply too much that can be accomplished with the ore here to let this state of affairs continue. So much waste and petty violence!"
Count Kord	Kord doesn't like any of this. That's why he brought an attachment of soldiers with him, a couple dozen men with polearms and leather armor alongside some trained Pokemon. He leads the group on foot from the warp gate and immediately sets to work. Just as Staren scouts around, seeking activity without stirring the hornet's nest, Kord guides his soldiers for a specific purpose. "Establish our perimeter," he tells the lieutenant he brought with him, a blonde-haired woman with a lazy smirk on her tired face. A Houndour, a hellish-looking canine, sits at her side. "Map the spots that show recent activity. If you see any Prospekt, avoid them. We are here to get the lay of the land and nothing more." And he pulls out a printed map of the region, probably something he got from the previous owners of the island. It'd be several decades out of date, but would probably be reasonably accurate. Kord then looked out at the arcane city, and started to walk. His soldiers followed him, checking buildings and helping to investigate the region more thoroughly. It's a battlefield several decades in the past, and the people here are still unable to accept the return of their old rulers. They will likely attack any strangers they come across. They have good reasons for that. Kord knows it. But that doesn't mean Kord will help them.
Starbound Flotilla	"I didn't know you took jobs from big businesses." "They sweetened the pot with a free subscription to you shutting the fuck up." "Harharhar, don't ye get at each other's throats so fast!" "Anxious. Let's learn more, before we decide what's right and wrong here." "Indeed. To put this back in balance, we must know what is unbalanced." "You ssset camp, Floran gonna go wander. Think, heard sssome thingsss." Here comes the Starbound Flotilla, setting down a big heavy lander dropship sort of VTOL thing as they make their way in. There's no subtlety in their approach, and settling down with a lander instead of beaming in seems to be entirely for the purpose of setting up elaborate camp. All six of them swing out of the VTOL on reeling lines to clear out and rapidly construct a landing space before the VTOL naturally settles down, and the Flotilla properly dig into the meat of the matter. Of course, they're in their standard Durasteel equipment! Moonfin, the fishman, is in elaborate full-body durasteel armor that looks like a powered cross between a diving suit and a samurai's armor, glowing cyan at the faceplate. Biteblade, the humanoid plant, is in durasteel plating with elaborately carved wood and bone ornaments over glowing powered components that glow an intense green. Pavo the bird-girl wears a divine-aesthetic set of mesoamerican-style armor, with yellow runes and inscriptions lighting up on stylishly gleaming golden armor and robes. Albert the monkey-man is wearing elaborate dystopian commando armor reconstructed with a 'rebel spy' aesthetic: A sleeker faceplate, a slimmer form, and a more chaotic design that integrates thin, resilient plates of durasteel, and lines of bright white. George (just plain human) wears a futuristic combat EVA hardsuit that glows a gentle red at the flat faceplate. Seft, the robotic Flotilla member, is wearing full-on medieval knight armor with a soft energized blue glow below the plates on her body, and especially around the eyes. Each has a heavy industrial-yellow two-pronged plasma-cutter-like tool strapped to their side, a Matter Manipulator. Biteblade is the one who leads into this directly. The others are setting up many things, but one of them is a big heavy scanner apparatus, which ought to detect ore. These guys are "alchemical" according to their contractor... Do they have much in the way of a mineral signature? The Flotilla hopefully can give some guidance, but Biteblade is a tribal at heart, and that means she's a little more tuned in on looking for people who might have reverted to a far more tribal or gang attitude, or signs of where they've moved to the surface from the underground, so that Biteblade could find access points to the mines...
August Kohler	August is dressed in a hoodie, gun holstered at his side, mirrored bracelet on his wrist, and a cold expression as he moves through the warpgate, hand on his gun. He radios that Kyoko can enter once he sees that it's clear, and then exhales deeply as they enter towards the farmlands, shivering briefly. "I'll handle combat. If we're ambushed and outnumbered, escape. I'll buy us time." As Kyoko begins to scan, August moves to see if he can't find a rock or some sort of high ground to see if he can't spot anyone or the signs of anyone living out here, as well as the routes to the city. "Pretty sure we know exactly how we want to handle this, yeah?"
Iria	Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor, as they say. It's better to slip in discreetly and try to keep a low profile, as opposed to making yourself very well known. Agile and swift as she is, Iria will tell you that she's gotten through many bounty hunts by utilizing rooftops and things like that to avoid being caught. She also will tell you that she's learned to watch patterns of patrols and things like that and attempt to slip by when the coast is clear. After August and Kyoko arrive, Iria swiftly comes in as well. Her crimson cape does little to protect her from the cold, but her armored bodysuit makes up for it in several ways. She takes a moment to check her weapons, not that she wants to have to use them, then looks to Kyoko and says, "I've got direct combat handled if need be." The brunette runs a hand through her hair, brushing back her hair ornamanets, and smirks. Iria then looks to August and her tone gets a bit more firm. "Yeah, I realize I'm getting a little ahead of myself here." Strange words coming from Iria considering how she prefers to be up close and personal. "I'll let you decide our best course of action."
Captain Flint	TWO HOURS AGO The shape of the island, marred by a layer of slight wear on the lens of his looking glass, appears in the vision of Captain Flint. The sails of the square-rigger frigate rustle slightly--the wind is good. Behind him, his crew works, happier than they've been in some time. The voices of dissent, being Turk, Dufresne, and Howell, have been silenced without bloodshed. The startup Flint had received from Priscilla was more than enough to turn the crew steadily in his favor, and to hold fast their belief in him for a while longer. Everything seems to be going in his favor. Despite that, his expression as he views the island through the looking glass is a bitter frown. He knew Priscilla could be trusted, and by this point, hopefully, so did the rest of his crew. If not the First herself, then the Captain, at least. But one voice aboard the ship had refused to turn. Gates still hadn't forgiven him for Billy's loss, during the Urca hunt. He couldn't afford to have his own quartermaster working against him. So, part of the startup was used to pay Gates' silence and his severance. It was a smart, practical decision, especially since the crew named John Silver quartermaster for his sacrifice. But, that frown still remains. He'd forgotten the night he and Gates shared a drink in the cabin--the night before the Urca hunt. Even now, he doesn't remember it, and probably won't ever again. In his mind, he remembers paying the bald pirate off, and specifically, the look of bitter reproach in his eyes after an expectant pause. What bothers him is that he doesn't know what he doesn't know. Only that Gates seemed to expect him to say something, and that his departure from the Walrus very likely coincided with a departure from his life. Another person the Urca had cost him. "Why here?" Silver's voice interrupts the captain's train of thought. He hadn't heard the new quartermaster approach. The looking class is collapsed and shoved into Flint's coat. "Do you want the moral reason or the practical reason?" He suspected he already knew the answer. Silver was very much a pragmatist. It came with the territory of being a survivor. Indeed, the captain is faced with an incredulous smirk. "Nassau will need allies."
Captain Flint	PRESENTLY On the shore, launches ferry pirates back and forth, as the crew of the Walrus creates a campground to serve as a sort of headquarters. Some pirates, meanwhile, remains on board to guard and man the ship. Further inland, Flint, Silver, and a small vanguard of pirates discuss strategy. A splintered table, sourced from a local home in the villa, bears an unfolded map of the island, obtained before the journey. He'd certainly like to resolve things without violence. The people of Garit stole the benefits of the Prospekt's labor, fully aware that they were sentient beings and no longer tools. August's question gets a far more definitive response. "Unite the various Prospekt factions into one functioning whole, renegotiate the terms of their agreement to see them paid in the expertise, labor, and necessities they need to survive and remain independent." John Silver chuckles, leaning on his crutch. "The people of Garit are going to love that." "The people of Garit can go fuck themselves." This elicits a series of rumbling chuckles from the pirates behind him. "And the Concord?" "Will stand to profit tremendously from my plan." Flint sounds as if he believes it--but Silver doesn't look as if he does. Still, he doesn't challenge the captain.
Priscilla	On the Concord side, wherein their task is 'get the island back, we don't care how you do it', making contact is a valid priority. It's more difficult sheerly for the maze of buildings, and possibly for the fact that a declining, survival-focused guerrilla population is absolutely going to use them as cover. For Staren, picking an intact building is difficult in the sense that none of them are pristine, but easy in the sense that most are still structurally functional. An annoying number run on proximity-sensing charms that open up automatic doors and the like, most of which no longer function, and almost all of them have clearly been looted for anything useful, but nothing jumps out to kill him, nor does anything collapse beneath him, on the way up many stairs (obviously, the weird brass elevator cages that levitate on their own are useless). From up above, his drone has an easier time in the air. A number of fires are just the smouldering remainders of groups that had struck up and moved on, all of them charcoal or coal-based, without any sign of magic or natural gas, though there are the obvious remains of food. Scanning around, many places seem to have signs of recent habitation, from residual heat to recently stripped parts from vehicles that are now leaking the remainder of their quartz batteries as magical energy, but it seems in the city, nobody settles down permanently; at least not in the open. No doubt it's either a bandit's paradise, or broken up into warring gang turfs by now. He does locate a group on the move however, and dangerous close to Kord and his soldiers. True to descriptions, they clearly aren't human, but pretty close to it, being significantly taller and broader, as well as a greyish near-albino in complexion, hairless, and with vaguely opalescent skin. About half a dozen of them are using the streets, moving as a pack, keeping their eyes open in pretty much all directions but the air (no doubt there's nothing left to fly here). The majority are armed, with what look to be some kind of rifles in decent repair, so it stands to reason the magitech they won their uprising with is one of the few things they still know how to maintain. Honestly, despite their odd looks, seeing a gang of people with guns, parkas, and boots, with some toolboxes and bandages between them, stopping to check storefronts, vehicles, and signs while some stand guard, is oddly typical 'survivor' fare, minus the monsters. If Kord's men basically go around the block they'll be almost face to face. Biteblade actually has the easiest time tracking, despite Staren's advanced drone. The buildings are a severe visual obstruction, but smell, trails of small tells, and general new/old-ness of discarded supplies are pretty telling. She has the option of tailing the same group from an advantageous position, or following to one of the (pretty standard) manhole covers in the street, where some smart cookies have been navigating where it's harder for someone to shoot them out of a window.
Priscilla	The other end of the island is a little different. Kyoko setting up a scan just about instantaneously gets her a map of a sophisticated grid of magical lines beneath the ground, clearly not any kind of ley line conceit, but intentionally manufactured and buried circuits not unlike an electrical power grid. They reveal themselves with trivial ease, no doubt /meant/ to be assessed and followed by civil engineers, which immediately gives her a useful map of places where the power still works. Fewer circuits flow into the previously-farmland she, August, and Iria find themselves on, but more of them are intact, at least two going to nearby (within a kilometer anyways) homesteads where machinery might be charging in addition to keeping the lights on, by her judgement of the power draw. Most of the routes into the city are broken or dry, allowing her to isolate regions where generators are still working, all of which are underground. The greatest concentration of energy by far appears to be on the southern edge of the island, which lights up like a Christmas tree, and slowly sprawls out and dims in a spiderweb of connections. If anything is still functioning to that degree, it's probably mining and salvaging equipment, which means there's a solid chance of it being the original, intentionally designed route underground. At least some degree of mining activity must still be a thing. It figures, since it's the only place they'd get new fuel and metal. August has to climb a building much the same way as Staren must if he wants to actually see above the growth and wreckage. Most of the rural landscape is so choked in trees that he can barely see habitation save for the odd plume of smoke. To his west instead, he can see that the only useful road inwards has been barricaded by piles of wrecked hover-vehicles stacked on top of each other and crowned with barbed wire and crude signage. There doesn't appear to be anyone /actively guarding/ it, but it seems to be a firm divider or warning to keep the rural areas and the urban areas apart. Which side built it is uncertain. There are clear signs of intentional cover being constructed on both ends, incorporating sandbags, defunct farming equipment, and concrete barricades.
Kushiko	This entire situation sits ill with Kushiko. It reminds her, at the very basics, the fact that one must often choose; helping one side vs the other, and in her times before, the Gradivus Dilemma struck her as one where she nor her fellow Tenno could truly pick a third option. Perhaps this time, perhaps here, they might yet find something else. The Garit were already a people whom she was not giving the best of considerations for. The fact that it was an accident of sentience with regards to the Prospekt was the only reason she didn't categorize them with the Orokin or Corpus, but their affluent aspects did not endear her to them. On the other hand, the Prospekt, she could see they went too far to one extreme, given the files on them. They had to find a balance, a balance which she hoped she might be able to help them uncover. Regardless, she arrived through the warpgate, though it was her Liset landing craft that brought her through, the underside cylinder of the fuselage rotating to let her disembark from the vessel itself by way of simply /leaping/ from it, somersaulting and landing in a three-point fashion. This particular Warframe could be identified as Mag, the mistress of electromagnetism, equipped with what appears to be a Corpus-designed rifle, a glaive shrunken and attached to her forearm, and a ruthenium-gilded sidearm. As she arrives, while she may not have explicitly /magical/ sense, the sense of someone who's been as bathed in blood as the Tenno has isn't inclined to become relaxed around Miari. The sense, less the 'smell' of blood inclines her to keep Miari mentally marked. After hearing some of the discussion between the others, she's actually inclined to do much as they say. Scout, review, inspect the immediate terrain and map others, using what information Kord already has. While the Liset landing craft cloaks itself, she begins to survey and go from point to point, using her rifle's magnification to visually survey, and if it's not too far from their meeting point, probably bound her way up a building for some high ground. She's pretty akin to a potential guerilla sort herself, but this is not her domain; at least, not yet. Not without taking the time to learn it and adapt to it. Which... plausible, but few would allow her to actually do it. As much as she may be Concord-aligned, the 'get the island back by any means necessary' is probably not something she's going to follow to the 'easiest' interpretation as such. Regardless, she doesn't allow herself to be visually /seen/, the Warframe's body seeming to cause as little noise as possible, and it's remarkably hard to follow her as she conducts her own brand of recon.
Staren	Given the extent of the damage already, Staren doesn't particularly mind breaking through some doors on the way to the roof. The tallest building he can see nearby that doesn't look like it'll collapse at any moment will do. They have supplies of coal? Interesting. Staren wonders if Galit's stockpiles were just that huge, or if that's evidence that some mining is still going on. And there's a group of them. He passes word onto his allies, keeping an eye on that group through one of his drones while he sets up cameras to get a 360 degree view from the rooftop. Coming back later and checking for evidence of fire or artifical light that comes and goes might provide useful info.
August Kohler	August scales the closest thing to a building he can find, carefully reaching the top and cupping his hands over his eyes so he can try and make things out. After a few moments, he climbs back down, "Barricades west. Your readings are probably going to give us a better location to start." There's a turn of his head to Flint. "That sounds like a dream. Let's hope we can make it reality before anyone else gets to them. We probably want to try and get to the mines as fast as possible. Hibiki, you have a direction? I'll take point." When Hibiki starts, August will lead in that direction, hand at his gun and at the ready. He's bodyguard, after all.
Iria	Iria would've offered her grappling hook to August, but it seems he's already gotten things under control. Nevertheless, Iria stands by waiting to see if August needs any assistance. Apparently, though, he doesn't need it. He comes back down and tells everyone what's going on, and that's when Iria gives a nod to him. "All right, you take point, I'll cover you." Underneath her cape, Iria gets her pistol ready.
Kyoko Takada	August asks a question, and Kyoko has an answer, keyed into her radio (which is more like a headset with bits of magic filling in the interface gap). "South." That's where things are mostly working, and where the mines likely are, and where she's sure at least one local warlord has set up shop. Things are looking a bit grim in this area, if not at the total-wasteland level. It might actually be worse this way, since there should be plenty of survivors, and there's no guarantee of them being friendly. She'd be a lot more worried (to the point of flight) if she had to survive and convince the locals on her own, but that's thankfully not the case. She draws up a small map to give an easy visual representation of what her scans are finding, trying to fill in terrain as best she can and plot a course southward. This won't be easy, since soft vegetation is basically invisible to her analytics, but maybe following above one of the power lines will at least give them a trail that's been trod before. She points the way, lets August go ahead, and looks back curiously toward Iria and Flint and his crew. They may be in for a bit of a walk, but this was the only warpgate they could take, so there's not much helping that, with the island in the state it's in.
Miari	With little else to do given the way her allies have gone their different ways, Miari decides to sink deeply into her thoughts, strip away emotions, and just THINK. The cold, alien thoughts of SHe Who Lives In Her Name color the process, a faint emerald glow flowing from her skin as she begins to think quite deeply indeed... And arrives at her third option. "... Kill the warlords who refuse unification, assert Concord dominance. Give the Prospekt some rights and pay, but force them to be properly educated. If the outside world doesn't want trade with Garit at something more reasonable, but not slavery-backed, the Concord will GLADLY take exclusive contracts instead." She announces rather simply... and vault-flies up to the nearest rooftops to pin down the nearest site of Prospekt habitation. If there IS one above-ground!
Starbound Flotilla	Biteblade sees that there may soon be an encounter with a dangerous group. And much as she'd love to do some murders, she has the feeling that Kord and Staren have issues they'd rather resolve a little differently. What Biteblade goes for, instead, is the manhole cover. With a swing of her grappling hook, a rocket-blasted dash, she slides in towards the manhole and pops it open with a stylish superhuman kick while she flicks open a Cave Scanner, and drops straight into the underground. Unless there's some sort of major trap or set of tricks to block her way, Biteblade's immediately going to set about doing some advance scouting, willing and able to both navigate the dangers of a decaying sewer level(!!!) and tunnelling straight through it with a wide array of powerful mining beams. Biteblade has a hunch about how culture has gone here, and she's quite eager to assert her own influence on the situation based on what little she's seen. Gang-looking stuff like this, poor agricultural stuff... It's like Florans without a Greenfinger. With lights on on her armor, she's already scouring for symbols, graffiti, and other signs of the sort of culture she's got her hunch about. Not only are such scribbles quite usefully informative about layouts, they also tend to be informative about cultures that may have fragmented the way she's expecting. She's going to skulk and navigate and dig as much as she needs to find the centers of activity and to locate a solid point of interest for the Flotilla to target later.
Captain Flint	Flint thinks over the situation. Kohler's goal here is 'beat the Concord to the mines.' As precious a resource as they are, though, they're worthless without the consent and labor of their owners. Rightfully, those owners should be the ones who put in the blood, sweat and tears to reap the benefits. "Mr. Silver," he calls out. The quartermaster folds up the map of the island and stuffs it into his jacket, turning slowly around to look at Flint. "Take half the men and accompany the Watch." Worry briefly crosses Silver's brow. He's never done anything like this before, and yet... the men seem to trust him. There's not so much as a grumble at the thought of taking orders from him. What is this? The rest of the men are naturally with Flint, who heads off towards the rising plumes of smoke in the distance. Those accompanying him are under orders not to fire unless their lives depend upon it--don't want to cause any diplomatic incidents yet. It's possible that the faction he meets doesn't have friendly intentions. That's fine. He has a plan for that, should it happen. John Silver, meanwhile, keeps a surprising pace given the crutch. He follows Hibiki, August, and Iria down the southward path, flanked by the other half of the Walrus' vanguard. Occasionally, the flat, metal support of his prosthetic leg catches in the undergrowth and the pirate falls, but his crew never fails to catch him in time. All the same, it appears to frustrate him, and each time he's helped back up, he's a little more eager to break free and begin walking again.
Count Kord	Kord calls his troops back together and waves them back so that they get behind cover. He barks orders, but he can't really be stealthy the way it is right now. The early warning made this quick response feasible. Kord draws his scythe out from under his coat and unfolds it, and with a loud metallic 'thunk' the scythe is placed at his side at a rest. He stands and waits for the Prospekt to turn the corner. If they're moving, and his soldiers are here... Well, Kord will not allow his people to get harmed doing something for his sake. It's, perhaps, one of his few redeeming qualities that he will stand at the front of the army.
Priscilla	Biteblade's sick kickflip gets her into the sewer system no problem, quickly lit up by her armour's LEDs. Unsurprisingly, it looks exactly like what you'd expect of a sewer system. Magitech doesn't change it much save for crystal lights instead of electric ones. They kind of all work the same way. She doesn't immediately run into any traps, but there are /plenty/ of hobo markings everywhere, pointing out dangerous areas, impassable routes, places that have been looted dry, places that haven't been, and then a /lot/ of turf warnings here and there, many of which have been scribbled over with different ones, or the occasional taunt or insult. Following a set closest to her position, she can reach a point in short order where the canal sports corrugated bridges and handholds over it for easy access, where the grime has been partially scrubbed out, and where extra lights have been dragged down from above to brighten it up, hanging from wires salvaged and hung from the ceiling. There is the dull rumble of a generator probably jerry rigged up down here, and the smell of burning fuel. Sewer shanty town is a-go. The advantage of being in the overgrown former-agricultural lands is that there is little in the way of things like 'blind corners' and 'dark alleyways' to be ambushed out of, so the Watch group (plus Silver's men) have it relatively easy. Trudging through the foliage is annoying, as is occasionally having to divert around the odd, rusted out wire fence sure to give someone tetanus, but it's pretty much a straight shot, so long as they go wide to the southern coast and navigate along a highway outside of city limits. It takes them directly to the edge of a surprisingly large ring of construction, practically gargantuan given the size of the island, arranged in several concentric inner circles. The outermost is mostly signs and bollards with diverting lanes to keep traffice orderly coming in and out, and from there it breaks into actual lanes for mining vehicles and conveyers, then rest points, then equipment in for maintenance, then equipment on the job, and then lastly a series of extremely robust elevators. The entire thing is on a gradual slant, like the gaping hole in the ground is the lair of some colossal antlion. This place is by far the least damaged, and by far the best kept, on the island. Apparently, neither side of the civil war was stupid enough to bombard the economic lifeline of the whole island, supposedly filled with volatile compounds.
Priscilla	There are obvious signs of activity here. All of the lights are on, many vehicles are running, the elevators are churning slowly, and loads of sediment are being brought up as waste from new excavation. This is where they can find some of the island inhabitants in plain view. All of them are wearing outfits loosely incorporating the same colours of deep grey with red sashes, bandanas, or armlets, as a clear clan or gang uniform, but there are quite a lot of them, they seem to be handling the equipment quite adeptly, and they're actually relatively crisp-looking and more heavily armed than the stragglers on the streets the Concord are currently tailing. Clearly they're a large group that currently holds the mines, and thus is the most 'well off' in the area, until someone gets big enough to oust them from it. They're not being furtive like the small roving bands inside the city. Further scouting on the Concord's end isn't terribly productive. Miari and Kushiko have no difficulty ascending buildings from the outside, but the people on the streets know better than to wander around where they're easily scene from a casual vantage. The best they'll do is in the direction where the band appears to be moving the opposite way from, where an extremely large complex of what are probably apartments seems to have the lights on from the 13th floor upwards, with the lower ones probably intentionally destroyed to prevent invasion. A handful of marks can be seen spray painted on it, meaning that Staren and Kord might be looking at a scouting or scavenging party for a larger population. When they turn the corner and come face to face with Kord and his men, the wandering, parka-clad Prospekt don't react with any kind of panic or uncertainty. Before even stopping to appreciate who or what the Multiversals are, the four who are armed raise their rifles and begin screaming at Kord's group to drop their weapons. The typical person would immediately find it extremely intimidating, given the hard edge to their voices that even a SWAT team couldn't possibly hope to match in yelling down a dangerous criminal. They don't actually open fire, but step restlessly to spread out across the street and take the corners, doing that kind of uneasy strafe-shuffle that untrained fighters and insurgents typically do, instead of smooth maneuvers of trained soldiers. They keep yelling without shooting in hopes of Kord complying. It makes sense that they wouldn't shoot until he does something overtly threatening. Out here, you'd want to avoid using ammo you don't need to, and especially avoid violent conflict wherever possible, given a lack of proper medical care.
Kyoko Takada	Customer-facing, Kyoko isn't. She's a little unsure how to deal with the locals once they actually find them, and might have to leave that to others, as well. Flint's men should at least give them the appearance of a legitimately-sized group, but she's not counting on the subordinate leading them to take charge of negotiations. Rather, she's hoping that August has an idea. He's the fiery type, she knows that much. Local gangs might like that. Kyoko, she's an office worker turned... something. It wouldn't do to just sit around, so she busies herself with gathering more data. Nothing's had a violent reaction to her scans as yet, so she keeps those up, and additionally starts working some experimental tactical-planning software over the environment. This place surely wasn't designed for warfare, but has it been modified toward that? Is there patrol and lookout coverage? How big would the controlling group have to be to maintain minimum defense, and does it look like there are that many of them around? She has plenty of questions, and she can always think of more. Some of them might be useful for answering the more important ones of "are we walking into an ambush?" and "are we about to talk to the same people who will control this place a month from now?"
Iria	Diplomacy and things like that are better left to the professionals in Iria's opinion. The negotiations she usually does are over the bounties she receives for hunting them down. Unfortunately, those can get a bit harsh at times since some people are rather stingy and that tends to tick Iria off. Which is why for a situation like this, Iria opts to take a back seat. The girl hangs back, believing that August will handle things on his end instead. She figures that the professionals for situations like this should do their jobs. Nevertheless, Iria's ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat. So don't drop your hat! "If there's one thing I've learned," Iria comments quietly, "It's that you never judge anyone until you've seen their true colors."
Kushiko	Part of it's trust, part of it's an unwillingness to further escalate a situation, but Kushiko's Mag doesn't break from her scouting upwards through the building. Sure, she could /probably/ launch herself and land behind the salvaging and scavenging party, maybe take some down without lethal means, or at least create a magnetized buffer. But no, she'll trust Kord to hopefully de-escalate... please de-escalate, Count. It's weird to hope for that kind of thing. She can see from where she through the sniper's scope of her Lanka is that they're not trained soldiers. Miari's presence is noted, though she doesn't necessarily display whether or not she's actually heard what Miari might have said, though that sentiment the Exalt holds wouldn't be too far from a possible solution she herself would cleave to. True peaceful solutions are sortof a weird thing for her as a Tenno, but not impossible. She switches from her momentary cling to wall she used to leverage a sight through the sniper rifle to resume an upward path, and towards the apartment complex past the 13th floor. Transitioning from building to building isn't difficult, even without say, Valkyr's adeptness with basically pulling a radioactive arachnid impersonation, or Nova's portals (which, given volatile antimatter, even with her control is something she wished not to risk.) No, she actually alters the polarity of her electromagnetism for when she isn't effectively gliding, accelerating herself as needed by pulling herself forward, seizing on the ferrous materials when she can sense them. She'll use a scanner of her own, a more 'active' one to document and take imagery while passive scanners seek motion and potential hostiles.
Count Kord	Kord has weapons aimed at him, weapons he isn't particularly intimidated by. He doesn't drop his scythe, he just stares at them. A tall figure in black and red, his cape billowing from the breeze washing down the street from the nearby ocean. He swivels his head to count the insurgent. He does it audibly, feigning an air of casual indifference. Since they haven't shot at him, he can make a guess that they're afraid to do so. He decides to turn and rest his weapon against a nearby demolished vehicle. He doesn't do it gingerly. He then decides to walk forward toward them. His soldiers get REALLY antsy when he does this, because he could get filled full of holes... or, well, they think that, but he is moving slowly and keeping his eyes open so that he'll be moving far too fast to score a solid hit if they tried. "I think you should put your weapons down," he tells them, in an imperious tone they aren't likely to appreciate. "My name is Kord. I am a Hand of the Concord. I would like to speak to whoever you have chosen as your leader. If any of you fire on me, that person will immediately die. If any of you fire on my people, you will ALL die. You have been warned." The dark deepens around him, corners becoming saturated, shadows lengthening and twisting, his hands flexing at his sides. He turns his head to meet the eyes of each Prospekt pointing a weapon at him. "I only give one warning. What's your choice?"
Staren	Given the situation, Kord's actions seem plenty reasonable. Staren starts making his way over there. If things go south, he's ready to provide fire support in the usual Staren manner. If they remain tense, he'll circle around to come from the same direction Kord did. If they do de-escalate, he'll make a beeline to join them. Either way, he'll peacefully introduce himself as another member of the Concord.
August Kohler	As the Watch group approaches, August pauses, briefly. There's a lot of them, and they're armed. But the goal is to /ally/ with them...so there's only one real way to do this. "Decide now if you're coming with me or not. I don't care." He slides the mirrored braclet down his arm, before moving towards the inhabitants. Once he's close enough to draw heads, August moves his hands up to the side of his head, where he can't easily reach a gun, but can make eye contact with the bracelet. "Hey there. Name's August Kohler, Cloak of the Watch." His voice doesn't show fear, as he speaks, continuing to move until he reaches a point that the Prospekt would clearly want him to stop. "We're here to help you. Garit's sending mercenaries to take your mines and throw you back in cuffs. They're going to be well-equipped and coordinated. We know the rough story and want to make sure that doesn't happen, because it's pretty fucked up and the Watch's goal is to stop that." August clears his throat, barely moving his wrists. "You can take me at face-value or not, but I want to talk to your leader. I think we can work together."
Priscilla	Kyoko's scanning goes uninterrupted. There's nothing so sophisticated as equipment capable of interrupting or blocking out her analysis magic, and probably not even detecting it, so it isn't a difficult thing to do. Results: there is clearly a lot of magical energy coming out from the mineshaft. A lot. As in, enough that going deep enough would probably be health-hazardous to anyone in her group, in the 'exposed radioactive ore' sort of sense. Depending on the size of the operation, the enclave here could be anywhere between 100 and 200 individuals, at least 50 of which are posted as guards above ground. Foreman's towers have been repurposed as lookouts, and probably a couple of sniping perches, which provide good all-around visual coverage since they overlook the maze of barricades. Not much needs to be done to make the mineshaft easily defensible as an outward-facing perimeter, since it's designed by its nature to interrupt and break down incoming traffic in the first place, and what stops a careening car stops a bullet just fine. Patrols exist, but are mostly limited to sweeping the inner radius, where someone could actually hide and scamper if they got past the densely cluttered outer perimeter. A couple of mounted guns might draw her notice, salvaged from military vehicles, which have pretty decent fields of fire. These guys are probably lead by some veterans of the civil war, if they know what they're doing to this extent. On the street, Kord testing the band's patience might not be particularly wise. Given, he actually outnumbers them by a considerable degree, but the longer he takes to respond, the higher tensions get, and the greater the chance is that someone will panic or get an itchy trigger finger and shoot first. That certainly looks to be increasingly the case, leaning on 'gunning down the leader and telling the rest to surrender', but the tension drops somewhat when he puts down his scythe, since they have no way of knowing that the gesture is effectively meaningless for him.
Priscilla	"Don't have no leader out here." one of the unarmed ones replies, carrying an obvious case of mechanical tools and a heavy rucksack, and not standing directly in the line of fire. "Ain't leader's job to scourge for parts and meds. A team's a team. You wanna speak, speak to all of us." Sssshhheee? (it's hard to tell) insists. "Don't heard of no Concord here. Don't care what fancy position it is. This no-man's land, so you can bet only rules being followed are street rules. You go around like that, you gonna get killed by either Black Diamonds or First Militia. Ain't no trouble here. Trouble's over there." She points back inwards, towards the northern end of the city, and then sweeps hard to the south, where the mining quarter is. "You wanna talk to leader, you gonna have to scout the whole city, 'cause I ain't telling you shit until you give me a good reason. I ain't stupid enough to send anyone who asks back to home base like they ain't got an angle. Anyone need a place to stay and gonna earn their keep, they welcome. Thugs running around with a pack of weapons ain't. You look like fuckin' bandits like that." August's attempted negotiation goes considerably differently. The response to his presence when he gets close enough to seen is immediately more 'professionally hostile'. Again, nobody stops to appraise who or what he is, but rather than engaging fight-or-flight right away and yelling him down, he gets about a dozen guns on him from Prospekt who look like they actually know what they're doing. A gun held straight and still is significantly more intimidating than one being waved around in angry gestures. Rather than addressing him directly, one of them with a helmet and red band pulls out an incredibly bulky and square thing that is obviously a radio, phoning in for How Copy. After listening for a second, he puts it down, and approaches August as far as the bollards. "That's something pretty fuckin' audacious to just roll up and spout out. Can't say I've ever heard of a Watch 'cept the kind you wear on your wrist. Considering they sent a weedy little kid though, I can't feel like you're itching for a fight. 'sides, we've been expecting those bastards would be back eventually. The asses too dumb to join up with the vets are all falling apart, so it's about the perfect time to swoop in. We've been keeping the flame of the old revolt alive so they can't take it. You got a problem with that, walk. You want in, you get checked for explosives and I call the CO up." These ones are, despite being pretty rough and unmannerly as well, clearly the actual pros here.
Starbound Flotilla	Biteblade knows how this goes. When a Floran tribe is without a Greenfinger, they make due as best they can, and find the next best option. And so Biteblade need only draw that next best option out. And then usurp it. With a building pace, her running quickens into a mad dash, and by the time she follows the smell of fuel and the sound of the generator. Potentially before anyone could stop her, weird and quick as she is, she's got... Tools and parts in her hand, and she descends upon the generator with as much speed and as much ingenuity as she can muster, immediately attempting to improve its power, make it cleaner, make it quieter, and all sorts of other tune-ups and adjustments and mods. If nobody's stopped her as she does, she's going to immediately start doing the same to anything that looks even a little rickety. She will, in fact, /outright fight/ anyone who stops her efforts to immediately boost the comfort and infrastructure here. "EVERYONE OUT OF FLORAN'SSS WAY, FLORAN HASSS HAND FULL OF PARTSSS, TOOLSSS FULL OF SSSCIENCE, AND HEAD FULL OF GENIUSSS AND LOTSSS OF TEETH." Her understanding of the situation has grown now to the point that she believes her particular hope may work. Her intention, unless she's stopped, is to spend the next several hours forcibly improving the standard of living to the point where people either leave out of loyalty to parties that are not this weird intruder, get stabbed for trying to stop her from fixing things for some reason, or, ideally, become immediately willing to listen to her as a supplier of goods and services they're critically lacking. Because where there are tribes, there must be Greenfingers, and Biteblade is very, /very/ interested in taking control of some political power here if she can. Not uniting whatever tribes may exist, no. Simply asserting her power and pride, and forcing as much of the Prospekt here to fall in line with it as she can. Sometimes, that just means flash-building /air-conditioned housing/ for the Prospekt.
Captain Flint	SILVER'S PARTY The long-haired pirate sighs. Inclines... he hasn't quite mastered those yet. The crew accompanying him are more than happy to help, but at certain points he has to actually be careful walking. That annoys him. The crutch digging into his arm isn't made any better, either. On the way down, he passes a conveyor belt, unmistakably activated. Just as he's about to mention the signs of habitation, the inhabitants themselves come into view. Again, Silver sighs. Flint said he'd handle this part, and he's off looking for other Prospekt. "Hello," he says with uncertainty enough to make it sound like he's greeting a stranger on the subway. His free hand rises to greet them, and he swallows nervously. Keeping his balance with determination, the pirate passes his crutch to Howell, the ship's doctor. "Flint," Silver utters in hushed tones to over the radio. "What do I do? I met them." FLINT'S PARTY Following the smoke in the air does indeed lead Flint from the farmland to the city. Or rather, to the outskirts thereof, whereupon he spies the scene with his looking glass. It's not much help, at this distance, but what can you do? Offworld tech can be expensive and difficult to get. "Flint, what do I do? I met them." "You're the quartermaster," says Flint absently. There's sure to be other groups here, and the faster they can unify those disparate Prospekt, the better off their fledgling nation will be. He motions to his men to move forward, entering the city proper. "You're the voice of the crew. Be their voice." It comes to pass that, upon their approach, Flint encounters the standoff brewing in the street. Who should he encounter, there, but one of the fellows from the play. He's unaware of the presence of any snipers, but any strategist worth his salt would try to have men up there. He's banking either side in this conflict could. Rather than split his men up, he orders them to take defensive positions in a sort of star pattern, under awnings or in storefronts where they can. Where they can't, they make do by taking up spots between buildings or in alleys. "I recognize you from the play," Flint says, announcing his presence casually, but loudly enough to be heard by both sides. "Captain Flint," he says, to neither particular side. "Of the Walrus. And the Concord." His hands are raised above his head, palms out. "As you've both likely noticed, my men have taken up defensive positions. I'm hoping that precaution will prove unnecessary." The pirate fixes Kord with a discerning look. "You don't look to be Prospekt. And I'm clearly not, myself. Which would make both of us either outside actors or very, very skilled survivalists." He then turns his gaze to the assembled insurgents. "Both of which could be very dangerous for you." His hands don't move from their spot above his head. "However, his men haven't attacked you yet, and I went out of my way to announce my presence to you. If you're curious as to why, lower your weapons and I'll tell you how you can turn this place from a refuge into a home." SILVER'S PARTY "Be their voice? What the fuck..." But August already has. And admittedly, it seems to have worked, except for the part where there were guns trained on them at one point. Ahem. "Call the CO, then. We'll wait."
Miari	As she knows Biteblade has found one pocket of the Prospekt, Miari views the distant... apartment building? With a mixture of uncertainty and frustration. She'd much rather start with whoever happens to be the most powerful on the island and turn them into her agents... but she'll settle for these people and their rickety building! And an idea comes to her. This is a great situation to get in some practice flexing her Malfean muscles, so to speak. So she flies once more. Flies straight over to the apartment building and settles on its rooftop. She raises a hand which glows with a bright green light... and drops down, slamming the hand into the roof. Instead of damaging it though.... The hand sprouts mis-shapen, blocky tendrils of brass, obsidian, basalt, black iron, and various tarnished metals. They subsume the roof, replacing it and warping it. Slowly this effect crawls down the entire building, spearing straight down into the foundations - carried along by streamers of sickly green flame. As soon as the foundations are pierced, the lower flowers follow suit... and the transformation rises upwards further and further. On the inside though? This is a pretty horrifying and terrifying procedure. Walls reshape, doors vanish, and people inside are gently funneled along a new sloping floor that's segmenting into grand steps. INdeed, the roof eventually splits open and parts like blossoming petals to create a giant skylight - though still with many places covered in shadow. It is Miari's intention that all inhabitants be unharmed by this transition short of maybe a bruise or two, but the transformation of the building from apartment complex into something much more akin to the roman colosseum - minus exits, and with a grand twenty-story pedestal for her to stand on in the middle - is a terrifying and alien thing indeed.
August Kohler	For 'a weedy little kid', August is noticeably handling 'having guns trained on him' well. While he's worried, it barely shows, and he doesn't flinch for his gun or move his hands. His response is calm and dry. "Audacity works better than trying to babytalk to appeal to someone's sensitivies. If I wanted a fight, I would have my gun in my hand, not my hands on my head." August moves forward, allowing himself to be patted down for bombs - he has none, just the gun in a holster, his phone, and a granola bar. "The Watch is a revolutionary organization. I'm one of the leaders. Not surprised you haven't heard of us, you probably don't get off your island. Have you been through the warpgates yet?" It's not hostile or mocking. With the layout and the turf wars, August is pretty sure some of these guys haven't gotten to them. He'll move forward to the CO if permitted.
Iria	As August goes ahead, Iria follows along as well... albeit from a bit of a distance. She's got him in sight, but she's keeping a fair distance to act as a pair of eyes from afar. She's not entirely suspicious or anything, she's just taking some precautions in case something happens. Not to mention, she doesn't want to risk making anyone uncomfortable by being an extra Watch member. Besides, August seems to have things under control. Iria folds her arms under her cape and tries to present a neutral expression, but there is a slight scowl noticeable when she's neutral. That's not hostility, though, that's just Iria. "Who knows? Maybe things will go OK?" Iria mutters. "But you can't expect anything. You have to be ready for everything."
Kyoko Takada	Kyoko dismisses her screens. Most of the visible ones, anyway. Certain background processes will still give her notifications if her scanning encounters anything flagged as immediately dangerous, and she can sort of understand the purely magical side of the scans, before the data is sifted through her systems for easy consumption, without the displays present. Magic is still magic, even without physical computers to help. "Go ahead. I don't even have a lighter." Someone explained to her what those were, once. She starts rattling off some tactical information under her breath, but loud enough for her headset to pick up on. "Patrols further inward. Repurposed lookout towers. Gun nests. Sniper perches. Reliance on the existing obstacles further out from center. Deadly environmental conditions close to the mine entrance. Definitely the civil war veterans here. Couple hundred bodies. Not likely to be easily movable by any other party on the island. But not everyone stayed sided with them. Wonder why? Couldn't be their welcoming personalities."
Staren	Staren's armor may or may not be the sort of thing the scavengers have seen before. "I appreciate the advice. That you're willing to give it is a point in favor of dealing with you instead of them." Staren thinks. "Tell you what. I'll level with you here. The Galit told us their side of the story..." he holds out his hands, palm out. "BUT. They clearly didn't know who they're dealing with. Where I come from, we accept all people." He takes off the helmet and twitches his very visible ears. "My homeland's greatest enemy is a bunch of human supremacists. So believe me, I want to see the Prospekt treated equally." "Right now, the Galit and other humans may be without your ore, but they're living in their cities, with modern conveniences, not struggling to get by. Meanwhile, you scavenge the ruins of this city and did you just tell me there are at least TWO roving street gangs that could come shoot you at any moment?" Staren shakes his head. "That's no way to live. We want to see you succeed, and yes, we expect a good trade deal on the ore in return, but the current situation? Is helping NOBODY." Staren looks over the group. "But that's just words.I'm not sure how I can give you proof of my intentions... but if you doubt our capabilities or resources, that we can prove."
Count Kord	Kord turns his head to look at the tool set that one of them is holding. Then he just holds his hand over his shoulder, fingers outstretching. He looks around at the disorganized bunch of Prospekt with a lidding of his eyes. He starts to make a circle motion with two of his fingers. His soldiers guide their pokemon to better positions, where they might be able to take pot shots at the Prospekt from cover if anything goes badly while Kord turns to find a place to sit. He picks the hood of a smashed vehicle, and lets his clearly inhuman tail drape over to the side, flicking and swaying. "In a way, I want the same thing bandits do with this place. It doesn't mean, though, that I want to take it from all of you by force. It would be a waste." He makes a lazy gesture to Captain Flint. He then reaches up to take off his helmet and place it down next to him, and digs under his cape to pull out a water skin to drink from it. He keeps his inhuman eyes trained on Flint, watching with feline indifference.
Priscilla	Nobody is out on the . . . streets? Underground, so Biteblade gets to charge straight in on the generator before anyone can even open their tin doors and figure out what the hell is going on. As she gets banging away on the power source, apparently using a kind of liquefied crystal fuel dripping into a big blowing injection tank with combustion pistons, probably 30 or so Prospekt come crawling out of the woodwork, and immediately begin to panic. Unlike the ones up above, they don't have access to firearms, and so it's mostly a motley crew of uncertain volunteers who gather around with crowbars, hammers, and sharp pieces of metal, closing in on her until she starts screaming about science and teeth, which gives them considerable pause. By the time they stop circling around like bad ninja mooks, she's already done, and they're left to stare agog as she tears around matter manipulator-ing their scrappy shithole into something halfway serviceable in a way only an Elite can do. Soon enough, an elderly-looking member comes shuffling up behind her and taps her on the back until she pays attention. As opposed to the 'tribes' up above wearing looted urban clothes and pseudo-militia wear respectively, this guy is mostly clad in piles of rags and decorated with spare wires and parts. This would be the period she gets to hash things out with their 'Greenfinger' if she can slow down for about five seconds, tribe tinker to tribe tinker.
Priscilla	On the streets above, Flint ends up startling the scavenging crew facing down Kord, and gets the panic level right back up, with guns haphazardly waved around in his direction. This wave of aggression is considerably shorter when he takes the diplomatic route, and also represents the Concord as being significantly bigger and more important than one guy and his lackeys. With Staren joining in, it's pretty clear that they're severely outclassed and outgunned, and so the fact they aren't being robbed or riddled with holes becomes self-evident of their intentions. The toolbox talker puts up a sour face (a little weird on those bald albino features and coal black eyes), but eventually decides: "Not like I can stop you following back anyways. Don't have 'nuff stuff in the packs to stay out here for days. You can save it for leader. I ain't hearing it and I ain't get to call the shots anyways. Pick and choose who's coming, because all your thugs ain't cramming up the lift." This is the point at which they'd be lead back to the half-broken half-powered apartment complex off in the distance to negotiate. They will need to do a lot of negotiating. What Miari accomplishes is effectively terrifying a holdout and home base of survivors where all their 'everything' is stocked, sending the whole hideout into a panic as the whole building melts and collapses around them and completely undoes all of their careful structural sabotage and organization of defensible stockpiles, not to mention opening it to the air. It also puts Miari on a literal pedestal in plain view of everyone, so the large portion of non-combatants who just happen to live there grab what they can and try to run for it, and the significant number of actual guards all have clear lines of sight, and unreservedly dump as much ammunition on her as possible. This is unlikely to end in critical injuries to her, but is going to be a bit of a shitshow spectacle to bargain through when the rest of the Concord is lead back to the survivors' headquarters which are now a brass colosseum.
Priscilla	Meanwhile, the Prospektor in the helmet smiles lopsidedly in a way that would fit better if he was chomping a cigar. "Got a real smart mouth on you. Got balls too, but a smart mouth." He is quite quickly checked for all kinds of suicide vests or pocket grenades (apparently this is a thing they actually have to worry about), but finding nothing, a further individual rises up one of the heavy chain elevators and marches over, dressed in what looks like the re-stitched and heavily modified military outfit of a former Garit officer. This is also where the Watch has a chance to hash out their angle and hopefully a deal with a completely different splinter faction of the Prospekt, in control of a different part of the island. They will do so outside the mine itself, probably to Kyoko's relief. They are likely abundantly aware that the incredibly unsafe and unregulated mineshaft will be a deadly health hazard, considering they've almost certainly taken advantage of it before.