The hand cannon boomed like a thunder clap, sending the orc reeling back and passersbys ducking for cover. Augustine merely flinched as an algorithm of celeste light flared before him, catching the slug in mid-flight and ricocheting it back at someone.

Whoever it hit could wait; all the mattered was the look of shock on the shooter’s face. Augustine raised his wand with every intent to separate the orc’s head from its shoulders, when a tiny body slammed into his legs. His shields were primed for gunshots, but not nearly as effective against panicking pedestrians. He narrowly caught his balance, and kicked away the terrified goblin stumbling over his shoes.

But the two orcs had already shoved their way back into mess of screaming commuters. Augustine trained his wand on their burgundy coated backs, desperate for a clear shot through the crowd. The radio watch frantically vibrating brought him back to his senses.

“What the hell is going on?” Trent yelled over the panicked cries.

“Orcs dressed as station crew. Two of them with firearms.”

“Shit. What about the asset?”

Augustine stepped around a figure spread eagle over the platform. The asset’s porcelain perfect face still held a smile. One might mistake it for a stage pose if not for the gaping hole in his chest where the gunshot had ricocheted.

“The asset’s indisposed at the moment,” Augustine said. “They’ve intercepted the delivery; headed your way.”

“On it,” Trent grunted, clicking off communication.

Augustine shifted his own radio watch from his ear and held it out before him. “Oracle,” he called.

A faint light glinted upon the glass surface of the watch, rapidly expanding into the bobbing blue lips and eyes of the Oracle. Its identical sister-faces continued chanting safety commands on the metro display screens. But those were merely public incarnations, bound to single track questions and answers. The entity summoned into his grasp was of much deeper insight.

<Inquisitor Lossa, how may I be of service?> the Oracle asked, rather brisk and businesslike.

Augustine started toward the stairs. “Give me full access to this facility.”

The holographic bounced up to eye level then burst out before him in a wide array of windowed projections. Each carried a distinct vantage point from within the station: the tracks, the platform, the security checkpoints; the all-seeing eyes of the Oracle were his.

One screen rose forward from the others. Within it was the upper transit hub still packed with commuters. A section of the crowd suddenly surged with movement as two figures came crashing through, bowling over anyone too slow to clear the way. As they disappeared off screen, Trent dashed into view, wand held upright in safety position. With his free arm he navigated the press of disoriented bodies left in the orcs’ wake.

<At their current rate of travel, the targets will reach the nearest exit within two minutes> offered the Oracle.

Augustine nodded, pushing through people clogging the stairs. “Can’t we stop them at the security checkpoints?”

<Unlikely. With the state of alarm commuters are exiting rapidly without inspection. Also, several officers of the Citizen’s Constabulary have reached the main entryway and are moving to secure the station.>

“Override their communications,” Augustine said. “Have them remain at the entrance and detain all orc station crew. With any luck we’ll funnel the bastards back into our grasp.”

<As you command, Inquisitor.>