Months had been spent in isolation, planning, observing, and yet, when the time came to set the stage, and trap the prey within inescapable jaws. Another would claim first strike.

A celebration had been called, and though Ashwood had rarely left Alcatraz in her time as its steward, and even less so, the Innocent Slaughter, inherited by an untimely vanishing. Today, she had set out to make an appearance for what one would hope to be a serious affair, aboard the old vessel. Though she found the particular rogue indecent, even more so uncouth and blunt as a stone, the Big Box, a Bullmastiff with quite the "established" captain currently accompanied the Innocent Slaughter in formation, filled to the brim with gifts and luxurious items to add to the festivities of the planned gathering. Serving as the Big Box' personal escort, a smaller vessel, a Hellhound Gunboat, with a similarly blunted rogue captain, the little box, followed along the other side of the Bullmastiff, as the two were nigh inseparable.

Two Barghest flew to either backward flank of the Innocent Slaughter, one, well known to belong to Fuze. While a bloodhound flew far ahead of the formation, watching for interception from a cloaked position, belonging to Madcat, a peculiar rogue, that never seemed much like a rogue at all, yet his past known to a few within the pack, made this discrepancy less confusing. Ashwood, unlike her previous superior, had made no habit of knowing those under her, and this would prove her downfall as this was even true of her current escorts, the moment closed in, an invisible clock ticked away as the convoy maintained a steady cruise through the Tahoe Ice Cloud, bound for the Cortez anomaly that would bring them to Montezuma.

There was a tense air in the cabin of the Little Box. A party, they claimed, but this did not feel like the ride to any celebration. The pilot felt no urge for conversation, an absence of motivation to exchange the usual banter shared amongst himself and the Big Box. Whatever chatter heard from the headset was more akin to static, than of any comprehensible exchange of words.

He saw all the gifts and other being loaded into the Big Box and felt a characteristic tingle in their body, but the feeling was gone. The pilot shifted in the uncomfortable chair. Something else was tugging at him from the inside of his own skin, but what it was eluded understanding. Perhaps it was social anxiety, maybe it was the fear of being intercepted by a sudden naval patrol, or maybe it was a lack of oxygen in the cabin. All that was known, was the frozen nebula felt colder than usual. His gaze panned, looking towards the space on the other side of the glass, attempting to locate one of the smaller bombers that accompanied them.

Ambushes are part of the job. Especially if you happen to serve aboard the Poltergeist. A chunk of Rheinland military salvage shaped like a wedge can easily disappear in fields, especially if there's something to hide in. The Tahoe Ice Field? Perfect for such an occasion. Instead of gifts, the Poltergeist was loaded up with spare parts, and even the single hangar bay way brought back to service. Instead of escorts, heavy chunks of ice asteroids surrounded the thousands of rivets flying in a close formation.

Just as mentioned, ambushes are dime a dozen. Now, firing on your own people? That's at least as rare as a Tuesday. Granted, the Poltergeist is unlikely to take a lead role. Doppel knew as much. Yet she waited with a sense of familiar anticipation, as her usual stoic expression shifted into a slight grin.

Now to wait for the overture.

As far as the convoy knew, all was clear, Madcat hadn't reported sighting anything. Scanners were clear and without too much interference, though the silence grew until it became deafening. All anyone could hear was the silence of space, and the hum of their power supplies. The Innocent Slaughter drifted through the debris at full, occasionally, its shield perimeter would smash some of the smaller ice formations into smaller clouds of their own, vanishing into the depths of the Tahoe.

A few more minutes, that felt like eternity, The Slaughter passed an incredibly large asteroid, from the front nothing appeared out of the ordinary, as the Slaughter shifted to the right to pass it, however. The lack of awareness showed its ugly consequence in the form of a proximity mine, sat within the hollowed out center of the asteroid. An unholy screech crossed the comms as feedback between communication lines, a tidal wave, of color that matched the Tahoe Ice Cloud crashed outward from the proximity mine, with enough force to split the large asteroid in two, cascading outward and over the shielding of the Little Box, The Adrenaline Rush, and the Innocent Slaughter. Causing their shields to collapse in tandem with the tidal wave.

The viciousness of the ambush had yet be realized, the Innocent Slaughter was knocked out of cruise by the Big Box, who had prior to this moment, allegedly been the one needing protection, as it carried the gifts for the party, in reality, he was a lynchpin to this ambush. As the abomination of engineering ripped the Slaughter out of cruise, it turned inward, and with modified engines, punched its throttle, slamming its face into the side of the Scylla with brutal force, pushing it off to the side as the Slaughter's thrusters competed with the modified Bullmastiff's array while it waited for its powercore to come back online so it could lay down what little guns it could get on target into the vessel.

The escorts were caught completely blindsided by the ambush, Madcat had returned from his position at the lead of the convoy at the call of the Slaughter, still attempting to gather what was happening while the two Barghests in lieu behind the Slaughter were recovering their powercores and re-positioning to lay fire into the Big Box in defense of the Slaughter. Once again, the seconds seemed like hours, none in the convoy aside from Big Box knew what was going to follow the EMP blast. All they could do was wait to free the Slaughter from the modified vessel's counter force.

Even with the events unfolding as planned, seeing the giant asteroid shatter was almost frightening. The Poltergeist applies a 3 percent reverse thrust to be better protected by the asteroids of her choosing. Still, this was more than promising. The Slaughter loosing shields like that was an easy opening. However, not an opening for the 'geist to take.

As opposed to the chaos that is ought to be the bridge of the Slaughter, the glorified command tower of this ominous Hel was silent. The bridge crew patiently waiting for an order, or anything similar from the marauder in command. None such came. Her grin lasted for a couple more seconds before reducing back into the usual lack of emotion. Finally, an addendum to the silence followed.

"Any second now. Brace."

The alarms on the Little Box were muffled by the pilot's own labored breathing, as they struggled in vain to stabilize the haphazard machine. The shockwave and resulting EM pulse had ripped all thrusters, weapons, and shielding offline, forcing the gunship into an uncontrolled spin.

Every few spins, the pilot caught a glimpse of the chaos that unfolded amongst the other vessels. The view was fleeting, however, and nothing seemed to make sense from these faint snapshots of the outside world. The Innocent Slaughter was wedged into the Big Box, likely the result of the same detonation that knocked the Little Box into the spin. Had the Navy found them? Was this the end? Or, had one of the other ships suffered a powercore failure? A gentle, familiar hum started anew, as the unsightly ship started to revive itself, easing the sickening ride to just an uncomfortable one.