Landed the Crest at a scrapyard three kilometers out. No sense announcing my arrival.
The industrial sector is worse than the intel suggested. Collapsed buildings, toxic runoff, rusted droids prowling the alleys. Perfect place to hide.
Spent six hours in overwatch. Positioned on a collapsed repulsorlift tower with a clear sightline to Sorr's hideout.
Three guards. Rotating shifts. Two at the front entrance, one patrolling the perimeter. Amateur hour—predictable patterns, no overlapping fields of view.
Sorr showed himself once. Brief. Checking the perimeter personally. He's cautious, but he's also curious. That's his weakness.
He'll leave for supplies tomorrow evening. That's my window.
This is the way.