Post by EmperorMyric on Mar 22, 2021 14:55:09 GMT
Accirus System: Lost Star
Opera music had always been Trasts favourite, ever since a being brought up within the company he had enjoyed its soothing tones. It now played loudly the voice of a female singer dragging out each word in the back of the Triarch Armoured Limo. It was almost enough to drown out the tapping noise made by Trasts finger hitting the ornate mahogany table in front of him but alas the sound still could be heard.
Trast was nervous. Very nervous. He had been promoted to official Triarch head on Lost Star after his massive deal with unknown backers in Waimangus club through his contact Weidemann which had brought in the company a huge amount of both resources and seemingly ilicit information from various factions to barter, keep or trade with as it saw fit, and Trast had been given some of the commision from the deal, enough to get him whatever he wanted and elevate his status here. It was in effect exactly what the man had been looking for, rather than soliciting backroom deals with scum from the lower gangs on tiny weapon shipments he was now liasing huge deals with entire drug cartels, Pirate fleets and neutral factions. It was a dream come true, that was until he had been recently contacted by none other then John Triarch himself.
Normally that would of brought joy to his heart, but when he noticed the call was on a secure non Triarch channel he knew something was wrong. When Triarch had told him this was both official and unofficial buissness his worry had only heightened. Apparantly the company had never promoted him, and the deal he had secured had never officially been passed, the board of Executives had never even heard of it, the resources and various domino affects of the deal had been near perfectly glossed over in budget edits and endless brilliant bureocratic tape. Trasts heart had sank at that, and when Triarch had nearly interrogated him for all the information on who the clients were Trast was horrified to find he had absolutely no idea, and no recollection of meeting them. He had been ordered by Triarch to track them down, and gather information, something had happened to the company internally and wheels and cogs were turning. Trast felt guilt that his own ambition had likely caused this but he was determined to find out precisely what was going on.
His only hope was to find Waimangu a good friend of his and then get him to track down the women who had facilitated the meeting with the clients. Weidemann was the only name he had, and nothing was on record. Hardly surprising for Lost Star but annoying none the less, his armoured limo was now on route to Waimangus main club and he now had his personal security guards to help him. He took a deep breath trying to relax.
Anxiety wasnt helping.
Waimangu was normally quick to answer his calls as any business Trast conducted through him usually meant hefty commissions. These commissions had become more and more of a necessity as Waimangu expanded his entertainment empire into risky and oftentimes catastrophic business ventures into all sorts of extravagant new clubs and venues. This made it all the stranger that this time he wasn't answering, not even his secretaries or his answering machines were available for Trast. The matter was too important for Trast to just wait for however long it took for Waimangu to get back on the line; if he could not find who was it that had compromised Triarch's network to such an extreme degree that such a massive clandestine project had been seamlessly intermeshed with the company's existing industry he would have much more to fear than just a demotion or getting fired.
"Sir, you might want to see this." One of his bodyguards, on the passenger seat of the armored limousine informed him. "It isn't his terminal that's down, a lot of lines are being blocked right now. Can't contact our own corporate either."
The limousine flew on autopilot, swerving between the skyscrapers of one of Lost Star's overbuilt mixed districts. The skyscrapers hanging down from the ceiling and those coming up from the floor were tall enough to be bridged together with enormous walkways at their top levels, requiring the limousine to take a wavy path to avoid all the obstacles. The hundreds of layered holographic signs made the area unfliable for human pilots, requiring the limousine to pilot itself. Occasional faint explosions could be heart, although none of the men onboard the limousine minded them too much as electrical overloads and pipeline bursts were quite common in the rickety and massively overpopulated asteroid.
"Lines blocked? Thats not normal, does intelligence indicate any clan wars are going on at the moment? I know those degenerates do like to play the information blocking game with each other especially when they start shooting... But I thought the Entertainment district had backups?" Trast asked his bodyguard, his tapping increasing. He knew there had been some serious destabilisation recently in Lost Star, some massive conflicts to do with routing out suspected CDG cults or links. Hell even one of the asteroid logistic bases surrounding Lost Star had been destroyed totally in a massive raid that had seen several large gangs and mercenary groups working together to conduct the operation. You didnt see that very often.
He didnt like this, and this felt far too coincidental, his anxiety ran a thousand different situations through his head and none of them looked particularly kind.
"Keep trying, when we get there we can ask him whats happened." Trast commented, before unlocking a small wooden box and pulling out a large energy pistol, a weapon that had been handed down over the generations. Fixing it to his armoured yet immaculate Triarch buissness suit Trast then seemed to light a cigarette with a quick flick of his finger. He did enjoy the benefit of augments but only small ones he didnt want to give up his humanity like some of those in Lost Star did.
"It's not that uncommon, sir." His pilot informed while the passenger manually attempted to see which lines were clear and if there was any way to link them together to communicate with Waimangu. "Lost Star is growing too fast, there's too many people moving in so nothing works anymore. And it never really fully worked to begin with."
The shuttle passed close to one of the large bridges that connected the skyscrapers. While it was an eight-lane highway, Trast could see that the cars weren't moving and instead a large gathering of people was walking over it.
"Yes, we always really knew that it would get to... Critical mass so to say, but thats what this new massive venture is for. I dare say I never thought I would see a plan to turn Lost Star into a mega structure but surprisingly all the various factions agree to it, hell most are financially backing it. Imagine that they want to shoot each other but at the same time create this project to help each other..." Trast commented taking another puff.
He took a look out of the window and then narrow his eyes.
"Pilot... What the hell is going on down there?"
"Not sure, sir." The pilot inspected the crowds with the limousine's optics, scanning down the streets of Lost Star. Security vehicles from the insurance companies were beginning to move up and down the roads trying to disperse the convoys while several of their hovercraft passed the limousine by. The more bridges they passed by the larger the crowds became, several trash fires were being started, plumes of smoke rose into the air. "Big crowd, must be new year's eve somewhere."
"Sir, I haven't managed to get through to Waimangu but I got several security companies on the line." His passenger reported. Like the pilot, he wore a black suit and tie, with a bulky headset for communications. Waimangu's four bodyguards sat throughout the limousine, silently waiting. "It's not just the civilian and corporate networks, they're having problems up and down the chain."
This was the first bad omen for Trast. The security companies, effectively an extension of the large insurance conglomerates that had lately risen to influential positions in Lost Star, were wealthy enough to install their own parallel communications networks in the asteroid and thus were usually not affected by civilian comms overloads.
"Then somethings going on, if the insurance companies are having problems this has to be some kind of co-ordinated attack. But the question is who? None of the top gangs would dare cross those bastards, and none of the smaller gangs even have the brains to do that. I wonder if its those cultists trying to come back for revenge?" Tast mused, turning back to view the chaos down on the streets below. It was slowly getting worse...
How could that be? The riots and slum wars were supposed to be on the lower levels, these high estates had no reason to suddenly be rioting, the security forces were scary enough just on guard surely they were not stupid enough to witness them in action?
"Pilot keep a look out, if Waimangus place has been compromised he will have gone elsewhere, does the entire entertainment district look affected?"
A louder explosion was heard and not a second later an alarm went off, making the limousine suddenly swerve at an almost right angle without the pilot inputting a command. Trast and the bodyguard on the passenger's seat both smacked their heads hard against the armored windows, concussing him unconscious for a brief second. Trast had hit his head hard enough to leave a bloody print on the window; what he saw through it seemed unreal. A massive communications spire was falling from the ceiling and the limousine had only managed to avoid it by a couple yards with its collission avoidance systems. The antennae, equipment, cables and a multitude of debris rained down, hitting the roof of Trast's vehicle while a second blast in an adjacent building destroyed a second communications antenna. Trast's bodyguards immediately went over to him, buckling carabiners onto discrete railings in the limousine's roof.
"Sir, are you alright?" One of them asked, having to yell over the deafening rain of debris that were hitting the roof of the limousine, cracking its armored sunroof. "Get us outta here!"
"That's it, we're turning back!" The pilot said, plotting a course away from the district. The first thing that Trast heard clearly was a massive, distant rumbling noise: it was the falling antenna hitting the surface below.
Trast didn’t reply immediately, the sight before him was one of confusion, why are the communication towers being destroyed? Who was suicidal enough to attack Lost Star? His head span with questions even as his body failed to react to the damage that had been caused, his mind hadn’t processed the fact he was hurt due to the concussion, in his head he was fine despite the glaring blood stain on the window and the blood coming down from his head and down his face.
“No keep going, we have to reach Waimangu that’s an order!” He shouted at the pilot before turning to his bodyguards.
“Cant you see im fine?” He replied.
The demolition of the communications antenna left debris raining down endlessly, bouncing off the roof of the limousine as its incredulous pilots were forced to turn around and head even deeper into the district at Trast's insistence. With roaring detonations that shattered windows miles around and caused the flying limousine to rock from side to side, four more antenna were demolished as far as Trast could see. The buildings were the antenna once stood were tall enough to dip into the ceiling's gravitational zone of influence, which made the antennae "fall" upwards and crash into the upside-down residential districts much in the same way as the first antennae had fallen downwards and crashed into the streets below Trast.
But the final and greatest event of this mysterious incident only came after the dust from the crashing antennae had already settled. Trast only saw a flash and then sudden, engulfing darkness. The top four floors of a neighboring skyscraper completely blew up in an explosion that dwarfed the demolition of the antennae and riddled the armored windows of the limousine with bullet hole-like impacts. An explosive EMP device had been set off, its invisible wave bounced off the streets and then back into the ceiling, plunging the entire district into complete darkness. The limousine remained aloft thanks to its military-style hardening but the same could not be said of the vast infrastructure of Lost Star above and below. The myriad of neon and holographic signs that adorned the streets chaotically all went out at once with an almost biblical rain of electric sparks that the limousine flew through.
"An e-bomb just went off, sir." The pilot announced. "This is highly organized. I'm going to try and get in contact with private security but they might have their hands full."
"I don't know who could be doing this." The co-pilot said. "Demolishing the communications nodes could have been good cover for an extremely high-profile heist but this is too much. This needs more coordination and resources than anything you could get out of it."
"Maybe its those damn fucking cultists coming back for vengeance, whoevers doing this is going to have some serious backlash and if someone particulars behind it I can see one of the biggest bounties in history being plastered on their heads" Trast commented as the limo shook violently, the normal bright background of LS descending into near total blackness. It was a scary sight, one that most citizens had never even seen or contemplated before he imagined.
Touching his head Trast grunted, realising that he was in fact rather injured, blood was streaming down the side of his face and staining the white shirt of his suit. The anxiety seemed to be gone, adrenaline had taken over, at least that one particular problem was out the way. Pulling a small shot of medical nanites from a small medi kit underneath his seat he jabbed it into his neck as the microscopic nanomachines got to work in hyperaccelerating his clotting to try stem the bleeding as he also applied a sealant patch to the area.
"If you get through to either the private security or Waimangu put me on the line immediately, I need to know whats going on so we can relay it to the company, something of this size and organisation was either done through us or with ties, that must be the case"
"I've got multiple gunshots down below." The pilot continued his scan, flying for a couple minutes among the claustrphobic blackness of the district that just had its entire grid knocked out. The mobs below had only dispersed for a moment to take cover from the falling debris but as soon as darkness had fallen over the district they had come out in force. Security details were overwhelmed and cut off from one another, the public disturbances had turned into riots, which now turned into full-blown street war as the e-bomb had opened the doors for every single looter, bandit, kidnaper, psychopath and arsonist to emerge from the sewers and the slums that they had been pushed into by gentrification.
It was as if Lost Star was returning to its fundamental origins, the insurance cartel and their mighty, well-networked enforcers had maintained the illusion of order in the district long enough for the majority of its newer inhabitants to be completely unaware of the roiling darkness that inhabited underneath the glass faccades of skyscrapers and behind the holographic advertisements. While its population had exploded due to the wars, the original reason that Lost Star had been inhabited at all was because there were those who were so maladjusted and deranged that the empires of the galaxy had nothing to give them but prison cells or lethal injections. They had self-segregated into the asteroid, away from law, and had been subsequently purged by the insurance companies who attempted to make the place more attractive for corporations and other big financial movers. But they had never completely disappeared, for the first time in a very long while the night was theirs.
"It's gonna be hard telling who's behind this. Looks like there is a ton of people profiting from it to loot." The pilot said and then was interrupted by a loud impact on the side of the limousine. A 20mm shell expertly fired into one of the gravitic pods blew the rear starboard engine out and the armor made it impossible for the limousine to stay aloft. "Shit, we've been hit!" He said. Alarms rang and the limousine smoked. The pilots quickly followed emergency procedures and utilized the remaining engines to glide down onto helipads built onto the side of a skyscraper.
Trast had watched the ensuring chaos down below with worry, this was immensely big and he only hoped that he could carry out his job correctly otherwise it wouldnt matter what degenerate ran Lost Star Triarch would come for him all the same. But that was unless the rabid horders of denizens that lived below didnt kill them first, or turn this entire asteroid into a more chaotic lawless mess than it already was.
Admittedly, that concept Trast found quite amusing in his concussed state still.
Opera music had always been Trasts favourite, ever since a being brought up within the company he had enjoyed its soothing tones. It now played loudly the voice of a female singer dragging out each word in the back of the Triarch Armoured Limo. It was almost enough to drown out the tapping noise made by Trasts finger hitting the ornate mahogany table in front of him but alas the sound still could be heard.
Trast was nervous. Very nervous. He had been promoted to official Triarch head on Lost Star after his massive deal with unknown backers in Waimangus club through his contact Weidemann which had brought in the company a huge amount of both resources and seemingly ilicit information from various factions to barter, keep or trade with as it saw fit, and Trast had been given some of the commision from the deal, enough to get him whatever he wanted and elevate his status here. It was in effect exactly what the man had been looking for, rather than soliciting backroom deals with scum from the lower gangs on tiny weapon shipments he was now liasing huge deals with entire drug cartels, Pirate fleets and neutral factions. It was a dream come true, that was until he had been recently contacted by none other then John Triarch himself.
Normally that would of brought joy to his heart, but when he noticed the call was on a secure non Triarch channel he knew something was wrong. When Triarch had told him this was both official and unofficial buissness his worry had only heightened. Apparantly the company had never promoted him, and the deal he had secured had never officially been passed, the board of Executives had never even heard of it, the resources and various domino affects of the deal had been near perfectly glossed over in budget edits and endless brilliant bureocratic tape. Trasts heart had sank at that, and when Triarch had nearly interrogated him for all the information on who the clients were Trast was horrified to find he had absolutely no idea, and no recollection of meeting them. He had been ordered by Triarch to track them down, and gather information, something had happened to the company internally and wheels and cogs were turning. Trast felt guilt that his own ambition had likely caused this but he was determined to find out precisely what was going on.
His only hope was to find Waimangu a good friend of his and then get him to track down the women who had facilitated the meeting with the clients. Weidemann was the only name he had, and nothing was on record. Hardly surprising for Lost Star but annoying none the less, his armoured limo was now on route to Waimangus main club and he now had his personal security guards to help him. He took a deep breath trying to relax.
Anxiety wasnt helping.
Waimangu was normally quick to answer his calls as any business Trast conducted through him usually meant hefty commissions. These commissions had become more and more of a necessity as Waimangu expanded his entertainment empire into risky and oftentimes catastrophic business ventures into all sorts of extravagant new clubs and venues. This made it all the stranger that this time he wasn't answering, not even his secretaries or his answering machines were available for Trast. The matter was too important for Trast to just wait for however long it took for Waimangu to get back on the line; if he could not find who was it that had compromised Triarch's network to such an extreme degree that such a massive clandestine project had been seamlessly intermeshed with the company's existing industry he would have much more to fear than just a demotion or getting fired.
"Sir, you might want to see this." One of his bodyguards, on the passenger seat of the armored limousine informed him. "It isn't his terminal that's down, a lot of lines are being blocked right now. Can't contact our own corporate either."
The limousine flew on autopilot, swerving between the skyscrapers of one of Lost Star's overbuilt mixed districts. The skyscrapers hanging down from the ceiling and those coming up from the floor were tall enough to be bridged together with enormous walkways at their top levels, requiring the limousine to take a wavy path to avoid all the obstacles. The hundreds of layered holographic signs made the area unfliable for human pilots, requiring the limousine to pilot itself. Occasional faint explosions could be heart, although none of the men onboard the limousine minded them too much as electrical overloads and pipeline bursts were quite common in the rickety and massively overpopulated asteroid.
"Lines blocked? Thats not normal, does intelligence indicate any clan wars are going on at the moment? I know those degenerates do like to play the information blocking game with each other especially when they start shooting... But I thought the Entertainment district had backups?" Trast asked his bodyguard, his tapping increasing. He knew there had been some serious destabilisation recently in Lost Star, some massive conflicts to do with routing out suspected CDG cults or links. Hell even one of the asteroid logistic bases surrounding Lost Star had been destroyed totally in a massive raid that had seen several large gangs and mercenary groups working together to conduct the operation. You didnt see that very often.
He didnt like this, and this felt far too coincidental, his anxiety ran a thousand different situations through his head and none of them looked particularly kind.
"Keep trying, when we get there we can ask him whats happened." Trast commented, before unlocking a small wooden box and pulling out a large energy pistol, a weapon that had been handed down over the generations. Fixing it to his armoured yet immaculate Triarch buissness suit Trast then seemed to light a cigarette with a quick flick of his finger. He did enjoy the benefit of augments but only small ones he didnt want to give up his humanity like some of those in Lost Star did.
"It's not that uncommon, sir." His pilot informed while the passenger manually attempted to see which lines were clear and if there was any way to link them together to communicate with Waimangu. "Lost Star is growing too fast, there's too many people moving in so nothing works anymore. And it never really fully worked to begin with."
The shuttle passed close to one of the large bridges that connected the skyscrapers. While it was an eight-lane highway, Trast could see that the cars weren't moving and instead a large gathering of people was walking over it.
"Yes, we always really knew that it would get to... Critical mass so to say, but thats what this new massive venture is for. I dare say I never thought I would see a plan to turn Lost Star into a mega structure but surprisingly all the various factions agree to it, hell most are financially backing it. Imagine that they want to shoot each other but at the same time create this project to help each other..." Trast commented taking another puff.
He took a look out of the window and then narrow his eyes.
"Pilot... What the hell is going on down there?"
"Not sure, sir." The pilot inspected the crowds with the limousine's optics, scanning down the streets of Lost Star. Security vehicles from the insurance companies were beginning to move up and down the roads trying to disperse the convoys while several of their hovercraft passed the limousine by. The more bridges they passed by the larger the crowds became, several trash fires were being started, plumes of smoke rose into the air. "Big crowd, must be new year's eve somewhere."
"Sir, I haven't managed to get through to Waimangu but I got several security companies on the line." His passenger reported. Like the pilot, he wore a black suit and tie, with a bulky headset for communications. Waimangu's four bodyguards sat throughout the limousine, silently waiting. "It's not just the civilian and corporate networks, they're having problems up and down the chain."
This was the first bad omen for Trast. The security companies, effectively an extension of the large insurance conglomerates that had lately risen to influential positions in Lost Star, were wealthy enough to install their own parallel communications networks in the asteroid and thus were usually not affected by civilian comms overloads.
"Then somethings going on, if the insurance companies are having problems this has to be some kind of co-ordinated attack. But the question is who? None of the top gangs would dare cross those bastards, and none of the smaller gangs even have the brains to do that. I wonder if its those cultists trying to come back for revenge?" Tast mused, turning back to view the chaos down on the streets below. It was slowly getting worse...
How could that be? The riots and slum wars were supposed to be on the lower levels, these high estates had no reason to suddenly be rioting, the security forces were scary enough just on guard surely they were not stupid enough to witness them in action?
"Pilot keep a look out, if Waimangus place has been compromised he will have gone elsewhere, does the entire entertainment district look affected?"
A louder explosion was heard and not a second later an alarm went off, making the limousine suddenly swerve at an almost right angle without the pilot inputting a command. Trast and the bodyguard on the passenger's seat both smacked their heads hard against the armored windows, concussing him unconscious for a brief second. Trast had hit his head hard enough to leave a bloody print on the window; what he saw through it seemed unreal. A massive communications spire was falling from the ceiling and the limousine had only managed to avoid it by a couple yards with its collission avoidance systems. The antennae, equipment, cables and a multitude of debris rained down, hitting the roof of Trast's vehicle while a second blast in an adjacent building destroyed a second communications antenna. Trast's bodyguards immediately went over to him, buckling carabiners onto discrete railings in the limousine's roof.
"Sir, are you alright?" One of them asked, having to yell over the deafening rain of debris that were hitting the roof of the limousine, cracking its armored sunroof. "Get us outta here!"
"That's it, we're turning back!" The pilot said, plotting a course away from the district. The first thing that Trast heard clearly was a massive, distant rumbling noise: it was the falling antenna hitting the surface below.
Trast didn’t reply immediately, the sight before him was one of confusion, why are the communication towers being destroyed? Who was suicidal enough to attack Lost Star? His head span with questions even as his body failed to react to the damage that had been caused, his mind hadn’t processed the fact he was hurt due to the concussion, in his head he was fine despite the glaring blood stain on the window and the blood coming down from his head and down his face.
“No keep going, we have to reach Waimangu that’s an order!” He shouted at the pilot before turning to his bodyguards.
“Cant you see im fine?” He replied.
The demolition of the communications antenna left debris raining down endlessly, bouncing off the roof of the limousine as its incredulous pilots were forced to turn around and head even deeper into the district at Trast's insistence. With roaring detonations that shattered windows miles around and caused the flying limousine to rock from side to side, four more antenna were demolished as far as Trast could see. The buildings were the antenna once stood were tall enough to dip into the ceiling's gravitational zone of influence, which made the antennae "fall" upwards and crash into the upside-down residential districts much in the same way as the first antennae had fallen downwards and crashed into the streets below Trast.
But the final and greatest event of this mysterious incident only came after the dust from the crashing antennae had already settled. Trast only saw a flash and then sudden, engulfing darkness. The top four floors of a neighboring skyscraper completely blew up in an explosion that dwarfed the demolition of the antennae and riddled the armored windows of the limousine with bullet hole-like impacts. An explosive EMP device had been set off, its invisible wave bounced off the streets and then back into the ceiling, plunging the entire district into complete darkness. The limousine remained aloft thanks to its military-style hardening but the same could not be said of the vast infrastructure of Lost Star above and below. The myriad of neon and holographic signs that adorned the streets chaotically all went out at once with an almost biblical rain of electric sparks that the limousine flew through.
"An e-bomb just went off, sir." The pilot announced. "This is highly organized. I'm going to try and get in contact with private security but they might have their hands full."
"I don't know who could be doing this." The co-pilot said. "Demolishing the communications nodes could have been good cover for an extremely high-profile heist but this is too much. This needs more coordination and resources than anything you could get out of it."
"Maybe its those damn fucking cultists coming back for vengeance, whoevers doing this is going to have some serious backlash and if someone particulars behind it I can see one of the biggest bounties in history being plastered on their heads" Trast commented as the limo shook violently, the normal bright background of LS descending into near total blackness. It was a scary sight, one that most citizens had never even seen or contemplated before he imagined.
Touching his head Trast grunted, realising that he was in fact rather injured, blood was streaming down the side of his face and staining the white shirt of his suit. The anxiety seemed to be gone, adrenaline had taken over, at least that one particular problem was out the way. Pulling a small shot of medical nanites from a small medi kit underneath his seat he jabbed it into his neck as the microscopic nanomachines got to work in hyperaccelerating his clotting to try stem the bleeding as he also applied a sealant patch to the area.
"If you get through to either the private security or Waimangu put me on the line immediately, I need to know whats going on so we can relay it to the company, something of this size and organisation was either done through us or with ties, that must be the case"
"I've got multiple gunshots down below." The pilot continued his scan, flying for a couple minutes among the claustrphobic blackness of the district that just had its entire grid knocked out. The mobs below had only dispersed for a moment to take cover from the falling debris but as soon as darkness had fallen over the district they had come out in force. Security details were overwhelmed and cut off from one another, the public disturbances had turned into riots, which now turned into full-blown street war as the e-bomb had opened the doors for every single looter, bandit, kidnaper, psychopath and arsonist to emerge from the sewers and the slums that they had been pushed into by gentrification.
It was as if Lost Star was returning to its fundamental origins, the insurance cartel and their mighty, well-networked enforcers had maintained the illusion of order in the district long enough for the majority of its newer inhabitants to be completely unaware of the roiling darkness that inhabited underneath the glass faccades of skyscrapers and behind the holographic advertisements. While its population had exploded due to the wars, the original reason that Lost Star had been inhabited at all was because there were those who were so maladjusted and deranged that the empires of the galaxy had nothing to give them but prison cells or lethal injections. They had self-segregated into the asteroid, away from law, and had been subsequently purged by the insurance companies who attempted to make the place more attractive for corporations and other big financial movers. But they had never completely disappeared, for the first time in a very long while the night was theirs.
"It's gonna be hard telling who's behind this. Looks like there is a ton of people profiting from it to loot." The pilot said and then was interrupted by a loud impact on the side of the limousine. A 20mm shell expertly fired into one of the gravitic pods blew the rear starboard engine out and the armor made it impossible for the limousine to stay aloft. "Shit, we've been hit!" He said. Alarms rang and the limousine smoked. The pilots quickly followed emergency procedures and utilized the remaining engines to glide down onto helipads built onto the side of a skyscraper.
Trast had watched the ensuring chaos down below with worry, this was immensely big and he only hoped that he could carry out his job correctly otherwise it wouldnt matter what degenerate ran Lost Star Triarch would come for him all the same. But that was unless the rabid horders of denizens that lived below didnt kill them first, or turn this entire asteroid into a more chaotic lawless mess than it already was.
Admittedly, that concept Trast found quite amusing in his concussed state still.