Lost In Transit (EN) (P:A)

The shuttle finally arrived just close enough to prepare to land. It cut off engines, and began gliding, similar to the old fashioned space shuttles, though, this one demanded a way less lengthier landing strip.

The landing gear would be deployed, the vehicle's airbrakes engaged, and soon the shuttle came to a pleasant yet bumpy halt. The passengers would feel a thud and be partially pushed up as the spaceplane reached the ground.

The intercom speaker turned on once again, the captain would announce quickly next. "We now have arrived at the Anchorage Airfield. Ready yourselves to egress from the vehicle, and check your luggage for any missing belongings, an attendant will be assisting with the disembarking. Please proceed to the baggage claim area, and have a good one out there! Your captain out." He transmitted before static clang to the speaker, before it shut off.

Along with other passengers, Zazda and Devon unfastened their seatbelts. Zazda put the beret on her head once again, the Doctor grasped his suitcase from the basket under his seat. The two got off their seats, and began the disembark process.

"I provided to bring a fur coat Doctor." Zazda said as they walked towards the spaceplane's exit door, guided by the luminous signal within the interior and the attendants who were assisting disoriented passengers to leave.

As the two reached the exit door and egressed to the ground level through a mobile stair, the Doctor poked a reply. "Gonna need it... Thanks."

Zazda gave a sharp glance at the man. "No biggie." The cyborg woman replicated. The two observed an electric van approach the passengers waiting just outside the aircraft, it was painted in the airport livery.

"I appropriated us a security clearance. We're not being interrogated any time soon." Zazda commented, glimpsing at the Doctor, before motioning with her eyes for the man to look at the electric vehicle.

"Very well, let's get to it." The doctor and her proceeded to approach the van along with the other passengers, entering it. It's interior was considerably cramped, unlike the lavish aircraft they just exited. But it would be a short trip.

The van seemed autonomous, it didn't possess a driver, yet a computer bank, the sliding door of the van closed, making a clunk sound. It's electric motors whirred as it propelled itself through the asphalt driveway all the way to the claiming terminal.

Whilst the two would venture their way out of the airport. The strike team back at the house began preparing to breach the upper room. As they brought only one framed charge, they were improvising with a shotgun loaded with a breaching round for this task, and sheer brute force.

On the other side of the door, Fred encountered himself in a room clad with wiring passing throughout the floor, snaking up to a bank of old CRT monitors, all cycling through static. The courier looked at his own neck, a small compartment that would give in way for a neural interface was occupied by a long cable, to which he could only presume was to the computer. Fred looked at the door to attempt to determine an exit, the remainder of the thug's men who didn't die on the gunfight seem to have barricaded themselves wherever they were now.

The courier would barf himself in his own blood as he finally broke. Tears ran across his visor, digital, but it couldn't more accurately represent real ones. "Are you satisfied?" His speech choppy, Fred's years worth of politeness fading away as he slowly lost his sanity.

Corey stood silent, as he began tapping his fingers on a keyboard annexed to the mess of wires and monitors, a chilling miniature tap-dance. Only for him to give an almost immediate reply. "Whaddya think?"

"What's of so much importance..." Fred took a moment to cough even more fluids out. "... It's worth your entire outfit?" He pondered, glancing at his captor with a scowl.