Vorian steps forward to assist Drake, making an effort to pry the doors open. With a metallic grind they slowly slide open at first, before abruptly pulling to the side freely.
"Just how long is this tunnel?"
"This should be it, Lord Ritter." Rashida peers in nervously at the wreckage of the clockwork men. "One more door and we'll be in the lab proper."
A low creaking reaches Cassies ears; 'Has the blue-alien returned.' she thinks wearily. Gently she strokes Squirrels head, his touselled sandy hair bringing a warm feeling to her chest.
'I'll protect you, even if I've failed too many time.' she whispers, more a pledge to herself than the resting man. The graceful fingers slide across the firm butt. The silver pistol gleams with an unshod power.
Alyce slips through the first door, tiptoes through the wreckage, and set her ear to the inner door. After a moment's pause, she looks back to the rest of the group, shrugs, and shakes her head. The door is soon cracked opened under her nimble little hands and she peeks through the tiny opening into the next room.
Then she steps back and swings open the door wide, exhibiting the room beyond, littered with the debris of spider-type automata. "There's nobody here," she whispers. And indeed, all is silent.
Shaking her head impatiently, Rashida strides forward imperiously, storming past Alyce into the lab proper. "I told you, everything here in the entry was destroyed. We must find them..." Her eye is drawn by the pools of colorsteam condensed and puddled on the floor. "I woudl avoid those. They look unwholesome."
She dances through the scattering of brass limbs and bodies which previously made up the spider automata and patters up the stairway opposite the door, carrying the unconscious furry Duchess with her.
"What? Avoid these? They look so... pouncable. I could pounce the metaphorical heck out of these things," says Mittens, leaning in to sniff at the pools of colorsteam, though she can't make it far due to being in Drake's arms.
Vorian follows behind Rashida closely, glancing at the liquefied colorstream curiously as he passes by them. That must be the colorstream that Stuptsmann spoke of... come to think of it, wasn't there something like that in the air ducts? The noble frowns as he struggles to recall his time in the dark ventilation shaft. Surely it could not have been more than an hour or two since he first escaped from the automatons. Nonetheless, he heeds the Massri's advice, climbing the stairway shortly after her.
Ralph wakens a bit at Cassie's touch, and tries to make his eyes open; they refuse. He can't seem to make his body cooperate at all, he's never felt so weak, but at the same time it's very relaxing. From outward appearance it probably didn't seem like the street urchin was conscious at all he was paler than normal, and quite still, the only movement being his steady breathing as he lay in Cassie's lap.
"You can play with the technicalities of the liquids later, lovely lady." Drake chuckles as he pets the little cat and gives her a friendly kiss on top of the head, "For now we need to get everyone to safety so I can make sure everyone is ok. I will give you some milk and sturgeon later as a treat to make up for missing it now."
Drake continues to follow calmly and winks at Alyce to make her know he still knew she was there and teasing because of his intelligent friend in his arms.
She keeps her breathing shallow, for exhaustion has hit and despite the evenings' activities she can hardly bear to move. 'Wowbagger can just come to me, maybe I'll win, maybe I won't...'
The comforting weight of Squirrel in her lap, the French-woman can feel him stirring slightly.
Rashida listens for a moment. Besides the chatting of her own party, she can hear nothing: no sounds of metal clashing on metal, no booming declarations of defiance, intent, or gloating from evil madmen, no groans of the injured. "It's quiet. Too quiet," she murmurs to herself and the snoozing duchess, then makes a snap decision.
Her voice echoes through the cavernous facility, surprisingly loud and penetrating through the machinery's gentle hum.
Through the clouds encircling her mind, she hears the voice of Rashida. 'Is she calling to me?' she thinks. Then tastes the ashen disappointment as she realises her friend no longer speaks to her, the barrier has been erected between the pair.
Echoes carry the words again, reverberating down the corridor where The Lady & the tramp sit. "oh it's Rashida..." 'Or is it? Could it be a trick.' the paranoia tinges the edge of her conciousness. 'She looked radiant tonight, all were grey in comparison.'
She calls back loudly, a musical voice cutting through the complex. The movement sends soft jiggles down her frame, that shakes Squirrel slightly. "I'm sorry for le cacophony, Mon Petit Squirrel." Her manicured finger traces the line of his jaw, before resting upon his chest.
Though her other hand goes to her pistol, just in case her call draws more than Rashida's attention.
Vorian winces when Rashida starts to shout. They had not exactly made any efforts to remain stealthy, but they had not exactly advertised their presence either. As her echo is carried throughout the laboratory, he raises a gloved hand and rubs one of his ears, the sides of his mouth curling. "Well, not anymore," he comments ruefully, more amused than dismayed, for once, "That was a calculated risk, I hope."
His demeanor lifts when a familiar voice answers the Massri in kind. Well... not quite as loudly. A surge of relief swells up from within, but Vorian is quick to suppress his joy. More than a few nightmarish thoughts move in to replace it. Suddenly more cautious of his surroundings, he tightens his grip on his cane, aristocratic paranoia finally taking its hold. Nodding to himself, he continues up the stairway.
At the sound of Cassie calling down to the others Drake becomes animated a bit more as he sighs a breath of relief then goes back to having his normal, standoffish expression of someone in complete control. His eyes glance down at the helmetcat and he gives her a slight twitch of the lips, "Don't tell anyone I have any emotions." He winks.
The doctor then moves towards the sounds that Cassie has made, getting his mind ready for possible injuries.
The pale light of the corridor is harsh to her tired eyes and she just sits upon the cold floor. Exposed back against the wall, the shivers have faded as she is used to the facilities cool air.
Slowly at the end of the corridor a shadow forms; Cassie sights the silver pistol at the shadow with a serene efficiency. For around the edge comes Drake, however the French-noble doesn't drop her weapon. Holding it steady for a moment, she watches...
'None of this seems real anymore, some opium dream crafted by Morphius to make me surrender.'
Slowly she comes to her senses, the Green having altered her perceptions. "Drake is that you. Squirrel he has been shot, he needs help." she says with a thick tongue and a thicker accent. Lowering the pistol, eyes plead to the handsome doctor.
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"I won't tell anyone, but I might broadcats- I mean broadcast it into helmetspace," Mitten replies to Drake. "All helmetcats for all time will be privvy to your feelings." She's probably being sarcastic, but it's not terribly clear with this one.
"Wait, the first mate's been shot?! Put me down, and use your horrible human thumbs to plug the wound or something! He's supposed to carry stuff for me!"
"He'll be fine, I've been giving strokes." Cassies eyes glitter wickedly; "That always perks you up." there's relief in her voice as she realises these are no imposters.
Drake moves almost as quickly as the helmetcat but his facial expression is faster when he notices that Squirrel has been hurt. He gets beside the two and quickly takes note of the man and where he has been shot.
"How long ago did this happen?" He asks as he tears into the fabric to get to the wound and start working on it. One hand goes to the other man's wrist as he touches around the damage with the other, assessing both his pulse and how bad the wound was.
"It was at first during the fight with the blue alien!" trying to keep the dark feelings from her voice, whilst choosing not to name her enemy.
"He seemed alright, although we did get hit by the colour-streams" her voice holds a note of compassion, whilst she strokes the hair of the man in her lap.
She looks breathlessly to the handsome doctor; "Is there anything I can do?" the thick and lyrical accent rolls from scarlet lips.
Behind the hastily applied bandages it should be clear to Drake that the injury is definitely a bullet wound, it appears the bullet itself went straight through. The pulse isn't as strong as it should be, but is certainly there. The wound itself probably looks horrible to most, an ugly hole in the youth's shoulder, but with Drake's trained eye he would be able to tell the injury shouldn't be life threatening. The young man in Cassie's lap has however lost a lot of blood, and there are signs he may be suffering from exhaustion as well, though that is hardly the main concern could contribute to his unresponsive condition.
It's a bit difficult to say for sure without proper medical equipment, but most likely Ralph will recover fine with the appropriate treatment, though he may need a transfusion.
"Squirrel's injury is not our only problem. Captain Mittens is here because she was attacked on the Phantom. It is no longer safe," Rashida says to Cassie.
"They are safe," Vorian murmurs with a small smile, watching the rest of the group from a good distance away. They were a little worse for wear, but everyone was alive. No longer seeing the need to brandish his cane as a weapon, he leans on it heavily. His own collection of scrapes and bruises was rather modest, but it was sheer exhaustion that was finally taking its toll on him. Paying this no mind, he all but hobbles towards the others.
"Frankly, I do not think we can deal with more assassins," Vorian says gravely, shaking his head. We could barely deal with Wowbagger, he almost adds, before opting to skip the pessimism. "Perhaps we should find somewhere to lie low and recuperate. Trade information and see if this whole incident blows over. Though with so many high nobles involved..."
His words trailing off, the noble looks about, realizing that somebody is missing after all. Wait... where is the captain?
A gamut of emotions run through the French-woman as her eyes are drawn to the beautiful Egyptian goddess, looking resplendent in gold. The comforting warmth of Squirrels body is heavy against hers as the doctor works his magic.
Then the words from Rashida's lips cause her heart to jump into her mouth, and a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Nothing was stolen, was it?" she says fearing the answer and doing everything in her power not to jump to her feet.
'Oh my they cannot have taken....' her thoughts run wild. The injured weight of the ragamuffin, brings both a grounding and shame for forgetting about...him. With wild eyes she looks to Rashida imploringly for more news.
"I only know what Captain Mittens has said, and she may have left rather hastily," the Egyptian replies, turning to Mittens to see if any more information is forthcoming.
"Yeah. I pretty much exploded," says Mittens unhelpfully. "Pooooosh."
Through wide eyes, too shocked to cry, Cassie gasps. Trying to control the forthcoming hyperventilation; "The ship...it did not... explode? The crew?" she wonders, though her concern is not just for them.
"No, me. The ship is huge and sturdy! You couldn't blow it up without some kind of..." Mittens pauses, as if searching for a word, "Bomb!"
"There wasn't a bomb was there?" her voice small and holding a hint of optimism. 'Everything is going to be alright, it has to be.'
Her wide eyes stare off into space.
Doctor Khoth does what he can in the limited time and with his limited equipment, fixing up the wound that the rapscallion has taken, wincing at the thought that this was the wound he received from himself and Alyce. He could not let that dwell in his mind at the moment though.
"What blood types does everyone have?" He asks as he searches Ralph for his wallet hoping that he has a medical card on himself to tell what blood type he had.
"AB+, I do believe. But..." she shrugs not knowing much about transfusions, despite her basic training.
"Type A," says Mittens, "And no, no bomb. Unless I packed a bomb. But I don't think I did."
"Some sort of O," Alyce says in a tiny voice.
Rashida shakes her head. "You can't really use mine," she says sadly.
"AB+ as well," Vorian says absentmindedly, still looking about warily. After a moment of consideration however, he adds, "I would not advise using mine, though. It is probably not... clean." To put it delicately, anyway.
"Couldn't somebody carry the poor boy? After all, this is not the safest place. We are already carrying the cats. What's one more?" Rashida queries, looking nervously around the facility, "The captain could probably handle him easily. Where is Ysillith, anyway?"
Cassie looks around guiltily; "We sort of lost her. There was a big fight with spider robots, this doctor who was controling them, a crazed clerk who led us around and the colourstream."
Trying to make up for her inability; "I can hold Squirrel."
"It's times like these that I wish I owned a hoverboard," comments Mittens. "Actually I do, that was kind of a sales pitch. I build and sell hoverboards. You think being a famous gameshow host pays the bills? It does, but a little side income doesn't hurt."
"Hey, first mate, what kind of blood have you got? Red blood like me, right? Not blue blood like the rest of these ladies and gents!"
"Ysillith is lost? What about that scientist? Maybe he took her." Rashida looks flustered but tries to speak and move gently so as not to awaken the snoozing feline cradled in her arms. "Is there a way out of this place besides back through the tunnel? Though I think the Duchess here made the theater more secure for us. We should be able to get through without attack, as long as the assassin is still held. He's strong, though, and won't be a captive forever."
Drake shakes his head and picks Squirrel up in his arms, "Let's go. Madmoselle Rashida, lead on. We need to get this rascal to safety right away."
The doctor stands and looks about waiting for the formal lady to start leading them as he was not going to stop now. His patient needed a transfusion and that was all he was now concerned about.
Grateful for Drakes' help, she gives a wane smile to him and releases the handsome youth to the doctors powerful arms. "There's a entrance to the surface, but it's cold outside. I did see a boat." She shivers at the memory of the cold fog that surrounds the island.
Getting up she moves towards the door; "There's a reactor with a rainbow of colour, a strange kaleidoscope of emotions and energy flows through it." with a lethargic flick of her wrist to indicate the room upon the left. "That was where we last saw the Captain, she is too good to have been captured by the Scientist. Though he did seem to know of her race." her voice is thick and languid giving it a sensual roll.
Vorian frowns more deeply when he hears Cassie's response, or rather, at the connotations of her words. For a moment he thinks back to the tunnel, where Rashida had voiced her suspicions of the newer additions to their coterie. The noble looks to Drake and the unconscious Squirrel, reconsidering the possibility. No... they've done more than enough for us. He sighs, shaking his head; yet again, he was letting his aristocratic paranoia get the better of him. But there's no denying that she might have betrayed us... she was a pirate after all.
As he looks about futilely for the missing satyxis, the weight of their surroundings finally seem to settle in, his eyes slightly widening at the realization. "So this is the Nexus..." he says aloud, mulling over the significance of where they were. Van der Graff Corporation... so it was true after all. Vorian is quiet for a moment, before nodding at the idea of leaving. The details would have to be discussed later.
"Yes... going back the way we came would not be a good idea. It is not exactly a short walk, and the authorities might be crawling all over the place by now. Much of the evidence had already been wiped out, the last I saw of the place. Can we all fit on the boat?"
"The Nexus?" Rashida repeats in puzzlement, "Should we do something, um, violent about its existence?" She vaguely waves a hand in the direction of the lab.
Remembering that the trip to the sauna was not exactly a group-wide affair, Vorian opens his mouth as though to explain, before abruptly closing it. They did not exactly have an abundance of time. Instead he responds to her latter query, looking at the walls and ceiling of the facility.
"That might... also be inadvisable," he says after a while. He debates on what to say next for a moment, before deciding come out with it. It would not take long. "Someone in the League found out about Duke Atreides' death, and is decrying it as the work of a terrorist organization. If we found out about Leto's connection to the Van der Graff Corporation, then so can the League. If we destroy this facility, then it will only be a matter of time before they connect the dots. And as the other beneficiary of the corporation, Von Ryuko will seem like the victim to them... as is, they already hold him in high esteem."
"If you say so, my lord, so shall it be. And now, we should depart with alacrity." She glides hastily after Cassie to the door, gold gown much more ragged than at the beginning of the night.
"For want of a hoverboard." Drake mentions calmly, "Are you able to get some information from the computers here, M'lady Mittens? It would have to be fast as we are moving out. You can ride on my shoulder again. It isn't a hoverboard but you can use the handy flesh to hold on."
He leans against a wall for a moment as the others work then starts off after Rashida, hoping the helmetcat was fast at getting information.
Searching through the street urchin's clothing Drake would find rather fruitless, no wallet, no papers, nothing that would identify him even in the slightest. The only thing found in the rapscallion's pockets is a single Mark note, which if Cassie's paying attention to the search she may notice is only half of what she gave him earlier.
Mitten's query to the unconscious youth is left unanswered, though the blood on his clothing is clearly red in colour offering a very literal answer to her question.
There is a small sound of complaint as he's taken away from Cassie's warmth indicating that he still at least has some small form of awareness. He tries to open his eyes again as Drake insists on taking him himself, and almost succeeds, but not quite, and lets out an incomprehensible murmur.
Ralph is blood type B+ if anyone has a way to deduce it.
Squirrel's little squeak draws a wince from Cassie, she imagines the pain he's in. 'Pain and tiredness that I pushed him too. If I wasn't so impulsive...' she ruefully chides herself.
Getting to the heavy steel door, she turns back to Rashida; "The launch is motorised and can take a dozen. The mists and cold are the greatest problems." her voice slightly strained warns her.
With a uncomfortable strain she leans on the chunky wheel, a groan of metal matches the one torn from her lips as it slowly moves. Putting all her weight and exerting every ounce of pressure the lock gradually spins open. Keeping her injured hand flat against the spindle, to stop exacerbating it.
The door creaks open and the freezing air hits her, a solid truck of ice. Cassie shivers under the impact, her body immediately reacting. "Outside."
Rashida rushes to help Cassie open the door. Her eyes narrow as the cold air registers. "But this cold makes no sense," she objects, "This lake has a Mediterranean climate. Why would it be so very cold on this island, unless it is artificial - something to generate the mists?"
She trots to the little launch and transfers the snoozing helmetcat from her arms to a softly cushioned seat, then begins checking the systems. "This should not be too much different from a 'thopter, right? Propulsion and direction?" Her long fingers play gracefully over the control panel.
"Exactiment." Cassie says with a hint of regret, remembering all the days on the lake. Days of Spring, bright and cheerful. Days of tinkering with engines and warm weather. Followed by nights of red wine and passion.
She lets out a soft sigh as she stands upon the dock, watching the others exit the facility. There's a soft thump as she unceremoniously throws a heavy leather ledger into the bow of the craft.
"Teleportation to a new location?"
It seems that whatever the doctor had taken for energy and his wounds had worked as he was easily capable of carrying Drake and making sure that Alyce was right there with them. He was not about to lose either of his charges.
Drake gets Squirrel safely settled into a seat with a seatbelt then helps Alyce into a chair behind the man. He then kneels beside the vagabond going through his own case of instruments. His eyes narrow as he takes out a cylindrical object and uses it to gather some blood. He then watches the cylinder with a careful eye then gnaws on an index finger while watching results being emitted from a small panel on the object.
"The colour spray?" He asks in a hollow tone, "What happened when you encountered it?"
Cassie looks out into the mist, eyes slowly staring as if trying to make sense of what has happened. "It sort of fell on us, at first I thought it an accident..." her voice far away, lost in a reverie. "But I think it might have been purposeful by the crazy clerk."
"It spilt all over us, I was covered in iridescent emerald. It seems to stick and writhe all over us." she shivers at the thought. "My memory is...." she lets out a gallic shrug; "It was like a fresh spring water, burning through through my veins. Refreshing, but acerbic - a strange fizzing feeling." the French-woman ensures she's last into the craft.