(Author's Note: This post runs concurrent to Target Ravenlock: Weapons Depot and Target Ravenlock: The Ruins of Public Works.)

Solid Waste facility

His flight took him from his home in New Haven towards his target, his AR display showing him a map overlay of the town with the position of his other two compatriots, labeled 'Ranger' and 'Zulu'.

Ed and Kyle, respectively. One headed for the ruins of the old Public Works building, the other headed for the weapons depot. Their departures had been staggered roughly enough to have them arrive at their destinations more or less at the same time, per his own suggestion. If all went well, they would all complete their objectives at roughly the same time and be gone before anyone was the wiser.

An odd line occurred to him: 'If your attack is going exactly as planned, you're walking into an ambush.'

He could only hope that would not turn out to be true tonight.

As he closed in on the Solid Waste building, he turned to arc upward, following his own pre-planned flight path up toward the apex of a parabolic curve. After going through the training with Ed he had come to feel comfortable with the suit, almost as though it were a second skin. But all those drills were done outside, in an open area. Tonight would be different.

But then again, he had experience to draw off of, knowledge that he didn't remember attaining but he knew he had nonetheless. He could remember every bit of tactical knowledge about fighting in close quarters, as well as stealthy infiltration of a target.

He just hoped it would pay off.

As he reached the apex, he kicked a sudden burst of power to the thrusters propelling him through the night air, putting on a bit of speed, then cut them off. Control surfaces extended so he could glide through the air, following the programmed flight curve into a dive.

He came in silently towards the clouds, falling through them, and as he came out the other side he saw his target below. He moved in the suit, angling himself so his course was altered just a bit as he came in towards the roof, watching as the ground came closer...closer...and at the precise moment he had calculated he flipped over, putting a burst of power to the thrusters as his feet came towards the ground, putting him into a hover mere inches from the rooftop at a standstill.

Quickly he cut power to let himself drop to the rooftop, landing in a crouch to absorb the weight of impact and make as little noise as possible.

He had been out here last night, when the weather was a little clearer, to get a look at the location and search for a point of entry. What he had found seemed promising - a rooftop access hatch. Scans had shown there to be no active alarm system on it that he could detect, but that didn't mean there wasn't one, he had reminded himself. This Ravenlock was supposed to be clever on many levels, according to what Ed had told them.

But it beat going in the front door.

Quietly, he walked over to the hatch and graped the handle, pulling gently. Sure enough, it was locked from the other side.

Well...if it hadn't been, he would have been immediately suspicious. That would have been a sure sign of a trap.

So much for getting in and out without leaving a sign.

He pulled harder, using the suit's artificial musculature for added power. There was a groan of stressed metal, and then a splintering sound as the lock gave way and the hatch opened onto the building below.

He checked the map overlay, noting that both Ed and Kyle had reached their positions, before he engaged his cloaking system and moved to drop into the opening.

As he dropped to the floor and the torches flared to life, his first instinct was to find a shadow to leap to, before his brain caught up to his instinct and reminded him that he was - for the most part, anyway - invisible. There was no klaxon or ringing of bells, no other indications that an alarm had been raised.

Forcing back the instinctive urge to move, he took a moment to assess his surroundings. The bodies, the blood, the entrails and decomposing flesh might have sparked some memories, were he not encased in his armor with its air-filtration systems. They say that smell is the sense linked strongest to memory, and in his former life Leo had seen much death, many scenes such as this, though few to rival it for sheer carnage.

The man standing in the room, looking around at the wreckage of remains, remembered none of this, and yet took it in with an air that was very nearly clinical in its assessment. A part of him knew, in some detached corner of his mind, that he ought to be very near wretching at the sight, and so concluded that, because he was not, he must have seen much death on this kind of scale before...but that was the closest he came to recolllection.

Another part of his mind reflected on a video game - DOOM, he remembered it being called. He had no memory of having actually played it, but as he took in the room and its gruesome altar, he knew it was an apt comparison. Whoever - or whatever - had been at work here, it had gone into a frenzy of rage on the people left here for it to take its anger out on. Or, perhaps, it had delighted in the carnage as it ripped them to pieces, flinging entrails and organs and other, less nameable pieces of its victims to all corners of the room, letting their blood cover the floor in a flood until the room becam an abattoir.

And then the cry started from the next room, calling him back out of his analysis of the slaughter, pulling him back to the present. Leaving the cloak engaged for the time being, he moved in the direction of the next room, careful not to disturb the bodies of the dead around him...