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"Not sure yet, the trace is still running," Belias answered Pullman. At the same time, Blackstone informed Petrachkov that he was meant to find it in his room during the downtime they were given.

Petrachkov gritted his teeth. To Blackstone, he muttered, "Can you do something about this? Like... assign me somewhere else?" He took a deep breath, then turned and shrugged. "Anyway, I'm going to grab that. I'll be at the hangar when you need me." He set off at a run, disappearing down the hallways.

It was during this interlude of conversation that an immaterial shape came through the wall near the door. It solidified into the form of Ghoster Grayson Romack, coattails pressing gently against his boots with momentum built up from his speedy drift through the facility. There was a smirk on his face already, one that expressed excitement and perhaps gave him an arrogant countenance. His arms were folded over his chest, and beneath his coat, his left hand was wrapped around his Knife of Silence. It was a habit he had developed during situations of possible conflict: a siege certainly qualified for that category. "Romack present," he muttered, his gaze resting first on Blackstone and then Belias.

Catalena watched the boys be boys. It was still unnecessary for her to get involved, but the bickering was beginning to grate on her nerves, especially the way Petrachkov couldn't seem to man up to Pullman's quest for a rise. Children need to be separated now and then, even if the curtain of death is the barrier. Unfortunately, that was not an option.

And then there was a newcomer, just as she was expressing her suspicion of the orders to Blackstone. There was no concrete reason to question the orders, but it seemed odd for such a sudden change of plans.

There was little she could use to judge Romack as he introduced himself besides his apparently silent nature. At least there would be one person with a sense of discretion. She finished her question. "It seems aberrant to me that our orders have changed so swiftly. If you believe them to have come from a secure and trustworthy channel, though, I am willing to proceed with proper caution."

These orders radiated something foul, even when relayed by Romack's superior. If they were as unsettled as he, then obviously something was wrong. Still, they couldn't very well let the siege continue, so one way or another it had to be dealt with. Slowly, he nodded. "I'll go. Where's the shuttle?" The smirk had long since faded, replaced by a serious demeanor. Inside, however, he was getting himself psyched for the undoubtedly lopsided battle ahead.

Son of a b***h!

Seeing the new arrival, Pullman found himself annoyed. Just how was he going to spill a satisfying amount of blood with all these people vying for their own kills? He resolved to be faster than they were.

"Can we go already?" he asked. "I mean, ********, what's it take to get a chance at ending someone's life here?"

"Cholos, I want you on their shuttle. The Dutchman will be fine, they're shelling the tower itself."

"On it, Blackstone. Good luck."

"You need it more than I do."

"Fair 'nough. Come on, kids, it's time to rumble." Ignoring that Catalena was probably older than him.

They followed him to the shuttle, meeting with Petrachkov in his stark white Personal Armor. The shuttle was sleek, with two runners on the bottom and a small swiveling gun turret on the front. They each armed themselves from a set of weapons on a table nearby - some of their personal weapons, in fact, like Pullman's knives.

"Load in the back, grab a headset, when I say bail, you hit the ground running, got it?" he called out, getting into the cockpit without waiting for an answer." The shuttle shot out of the side of the Dutchman, giving the Tyrgani soldiers their first real look at it through the viewscreens. It was bulky, a great silver beast that made no pretense of being designed for subtlety - until its chameleonic field came on and the whole ship disappeared from sight. "Ghost ship," Cholos commented with a smile. "Cholos to Dutchman, have you traced it? ... Got it, opening gateway."

Five small metal pods flew forward from the shuttle, attached by thin wires. The light between them shimmered as they formed a circle. The space between them became what seemed like a painted image of a forest at night, with flares flying upwards from the trees, until the shuttle passed through it, the wires yanking the pods through their own portal, turning the gateway inside-out and collapsing it as the pods retracted.

"We're through, coming in hard! ********, I hate trees!" Cholos yelled, beginning to dodge anti-aircraft fire. "We're going under the canopy... I think these are Cabal boys, so watch for vampires and weres. Also, I figure a Sage or two is inevitable. Good luck..."

He plunged hard through the trees, the shuttle muscling through branches. The hatch at the back opened. "Good luck, kids! Message us when you're done or dead!" The shuttle lifted as they all dropped to the forest floor, undergrowth cracking beneath their feet. Several howls came from the distance, in the direction of the hidden artillery.