There was the sound of a boot scuffling against permacrete. There was a grunt of surprise, followed by a muffled whine and a thump.

Corvin stepped out from the gap between the warehouses, looking cautiously from side to side and knelt by the collapsed watchman, compact E-11 carbine raised in one hand. Pulling an access-card and comlink from the man's belt, he stuffed them in his own pouch, then retrieved the man's rifle from where he'd dropped it after Abalar had shocked him. He'd be out for another couple of hours at least.

Corvin lifted the blaster, turning it in his grip. It was a familiar design, with a long barrel and a collapsible stock folded under the front. The Lance Corporal clipped the weapon to his own belt, then tapped his earpiece twice.

Click. Click.

Abalar and Helena emerged from the gloom, the Blackjack ASL still holding a crackling stun baton.

"You know," Helena said thoughtfully. "You could have just shot him."

Abalar shrugged.

"Up close is better."

"Corvin, get us inside." Abalar ordered a moment later.

"Ma'am."

Corvin walked up to the doorway the watchman had been standing in front of, and looked at it. It was made of durasteel durasteel, and would look imposing to any would-be thief. Corvin shrugged, and moved about half a meter to the left.

The fusioncutter's beam flared into life as Corvin held the activation button down, and sparks flew in all directions as the plasma cut through the durasteel. Corvin quickly turned the knob, causing the flow of plasma to decrease. The wall was only duracete after all, and the cutter's light was enough of a give-away without it being on max power.

Corvin moved the cutter upwards, leaving a glowing line of vaporized duracrete under it as he did so, then moved it to the right and back down. Crouching, he completed the irregular hole he'd cut in the warehouse wall.

Fusion-cutters were useful things.

Pushing the detached portion of wall inwards, Corvin nodded at the other two stormtroopers.

"I meant the door, but that'll do." Abalar commented.

Moving past Corvin, Helena stepped into the warehouse through the hole.

"Clear." she announced a moment later. "No heat signatures, and nothing but crates."

There was a creak.

"Crates of ration packs, apparently. Anyone hungry?"

"Not particularly." Abalar said dryly. "Better move onto the next one."

Helena never had a chance to reply. The sound of blasterfire echoed across the complex, followed by distant shouting.

So much for stealth.

"Move!" Abalar shouted, and Corvin obeyed. Helena quickly emerged from the warehouse and followed.

There was a pop, and Corvin's earpiece came to life.

"Office building. Second floor." Havock said tersely. "Five contacts."

Corvin almost smiled. Let the Wraiths and Horses sneak around, this is what the Blackjacks did. Simple, blunt confrontation.

It was almost a relief.