Needless to say, even in a huge city, and even up on the 95th or so floor of a skyscraper hotel, firing shots, shattering a huge plate-glass window, and sending a spewing smoke grenade streaming down through the whipping winds, and through the midst of VTOL air traffic, where it could bust straight through a passing vehicle's windshield, was enough to get some attention. A police VTOL down below immediately flipped on the red-and-blues, banked and turned hard, and made a beeline climb for the window, sirens blaring.Mie and Greens had a planned (and very story-important) interaction, so we hafta shield them from violent interruptions for just a little longer so the sequence can finish (a post or two if they're quick), or else things will turn out... very different [maybe grim] for them, in an unintended way. Sorry, Rach. I think we can still make this funny in the long run, though.

Both of Jam's electrified hands were met with both of Caz's immediately pursed lips in conjunction with her raised brows. For a moment, she seemed to be at a loss for words while the monkey girl was throwing a tantrum on her own control panel, before following a pair of awkward blinks with a meek utterance of "Oh, I said something bad, didn't I."

All the while, one could faintly hear a keycard being haphazardly manhandled into the hotel room door behind them.

"Caz!"

"Gyaaugh!"

And who could it have been but Ace himself, looking rather flustered and harried-- not only from hauling butt from the roof to his room, but from being caught off guard by Caz's cry of being caught off guard. "Sorry," he said, both palms raised while the mole slowly dropped her frying pan from its 'attack' position. "But we gotta get outta here kinda now, and-- ...Jam?"

Of course between the two of them, Caz didn't know what the hell was going on. Her line of vision shifted back and forth between the two with a steadily growing expression of palpable whelm.

"A Chimera-owned airship," echoed Casey. The hog looked pleased enough with the situation—at least to be a guy who was just punched in the crotch some thirty seconds prior. "Just don't expect it to be easy. We may all hafta do some scary things, but it's in our best interests."

Oddly, he looked to Tyra more than the others as he said that.

"We'll get to go over the specifics soon enough, anywho."

"Yeah, we'll go over the info soon enough. We should get moving, pronto, because we have to do this today."

With that began the process of moving everyone off the roof and out of the hotel, out to wherever the discussed mission needed them to go.

But Paxton had lingered behind, assuring them that he would only need a quick moment to himself. As the last elevator door pinged as it closed and sent the last members of the group down, the agent made his way back to the seating area on the roof, a sense of dread building inside of him as he sat down in one of the many chairs. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a heavy, durable radio transceiver, and set it upon the metal table in front of him on its base, small black antenna sticking straight up. His hands hesitantly flicked a switch on the side, and the radio emitted a faint crackle.

Taking a breath to steel himself, he leaned forward and spoke into it, "This is Agent Gardyner, code eight-one-eight-eight-A-seven, requesting contact with Lieutenant Turnbull."

There wasn't an immediate response. The short waiting period did not alleviate the tension Pax felt whenever he had to report in; especially in these circumstances. Just when he was about to send out a second transmission, the device spoke back.

"This is Lieutenant Turnbull. What is your status?" The voice was female, but low, utterly flat, and with a slight rasp to it, worsened by the faint static that accompanied it through the radio. It was a voice he'd had to hear many times, but there was some element to it that made his skin crawl a bit.

"The situation went...mostly well," the canine responded with uncertainty; it did not feel like the whole truth when he said it. "Most of the group agreed to sign up for the mission, so we will--"

"Most?" Turnbull cut him off sharply. It almost sounded like a hiss, but maybe it was only the transceiver's doing.

Pax frowned as he found himself thinking of how to reply. "Crawford rejected it...and immediately fled to...join up with Lochert..." Truth be told, Gardyner hardly knew Ace. They'd only met literally yesterday. Yet in that little time, the serval had seemed like a plainly decent guy. To see him immediately run off to join him confused the canine. Having to say it out loud with his own voice just made the situation all the more discomforting to him. Especially when he had to wait for Turnbull's response, which was taking longer than he expected it would, heightening the sick feeling Pax had in his stomach as he sat there on the quiet rooftop alone.

"...I see," came from the radio after what may have been a full minute of silence. "Very well. You know what to do then."

Paxton raised an eyebrow as he heard this. He asked, nervous over what he expected her reply would be, "Um, beg your pardon, sir?"

"If Crawford gets in your way, eliminate him. I'm updating the files now; he is a registered enemy of GUN and member of Chimera as far as we are concerned--as far as you are concerned, Gardyner."

The way she spoke of such things with unemotional coldness did absolutely nothing to reassure the agent. "S-sir," he protested, "I'm not sure if that would be, er, necessary if--"

"It is absolutely necessary, Gardyner. You cannot afford to maintain a sense of mercy. Under these circumstances, it is only a disadvantage--one that the enemy does not share. If you truly wish to perform your duty and make it through this, then remember this: it is either us, or them. And Gardyner...it must be us. Do you understand?"

The gray dog's lips tightened around his teeth, unsure of how to respond, still processing his superior's words. Every sentence she spoke made his fingers dig tighter into his knees.

"The mission will proceed as planned. This is vital to our recovery, Gardyner. There is no room for error. Do not hold back, because they won't. Do your job. Turnbull out."

The black radio was silent. Now Paxton was truly alone on the roof. It would be silent if it weren't for the voices ringing in his head. For a while, all he could do was lean back in his seat and stare up into the sky. It was still blue, still clear, with the sun cheerfully beaming down on the whole city. It almost gave him a headache, seeing the contrast between his environment and himself. Pax wondered what the weather would be like if it reflected how his gut felt.

"Typhoons and tornadoes, probably..." he mumbled to himself. Speaking seemed to jar him out of it enough. With a sigh, the dog leaned forward again and grabbed the radio from the table, replacing it in his vest as he rose from his seat and headed for the elevators. There was work to be done, no time to worry about such things.