Episode 4: The Siege of Echo Valley

Started by HumanHyperbole, March 09, 2021, 03:24:47 PM


March 09, 2021, 03:24:47 PM Last Edit: March 10, 2021, 08:15:11 AM by HumanHyperbole
It had been two hours. Nothing but scrambling, ducking, shattering glass, splintering wood, and ricocheting rounds. Words were hushed or shouted. Tensions were high. So was Professor August. Alan was still hiding in the closet, attempting to proof calculations and check the real time mapping data as it came in. It was a massive amount of raw data. Distance between random rocks orbiting them. Some big, some small. Some were satellites and derelict vessels.

The data wasn't just a gold mine for spacers and scientists, the ability to every precisely locate the orbit of derelict vessel in range of the sensor array could be a BIG payday for scavengers. Especially those who might not care if the cargo still technically belonged to someone else. Doctor August was thrilled and couldn't help but get up and pace around as he flipped through the data on his handheld computer. Alan shouted for fresh sets of printouts to be shoved through the crack in the closet every fifteen minutes.

Connected to their network Jo was plugged into all the data coming in. Additionally, he would be able to log all the protocols necessary to try and replicate the program if he ever wanted to. The scientists were certainly eccentric, and getting them into deeper danger than advertised, but they were being open with their data as promised.

There were still lingering questions. Like how did those two Russo mercenaries convince the locals to call up their militia? Promise of pay? Or perhaps there was something else. Maybe there was more to the relationship between the academics from the university who's campus was hundreds of miles away, and the people who lived in the outlying mountains? The autogyros started to peel off one by one, but were shortly replaced by fresh aircraft. The locals, and their outside agitators/allies were ready to settle in for the long-haul.

It was now up to the crew of the Revenge and their dubious guest star to decide how the Siege of Echo Valley would end.


"Well, this is fun."

Melody crouched next to an overturned table pressed against the back of a couch with her side arm drawn, her free arm idly keeping Missy and Jo huddled together like a mother hen protecting its brood. Of course, she'd never have seen it like that, but an argument could have been made for such a visual. The pilot sighed heavily and looked around, listening to the cacophony outside and taking stock of their current situation. Two hours of this. While it was tedious and grated on the nerves, it did tell them that the attacking forces were more keen on a ranged victory than they were at getting into a dog fight or tussling up close. For now.

"Any ideas? This is your territory," she asked, looking over in Holger's direction and raising her brows. Mel was a pilot, she dropped bombs, fought other aircraft, and ferried his sort here and there. This sitting in a trench, hiding behind a barricade, and waiting for the opportune moment to strike...this was all Holger's wheel house. Going outside seemed like a big no-no, but waiting for them to shoot the lodge into a poor excuse for cover didn't seem ideal either. And their constant barrage was keeping her from getting to the Revenge and Her guns.

Melody, Holger, Breene, and Izak. She knew they could handle themselves in this situation. But it wasn't just them. The doctor and Jo were stuck in here as well. Alex and the other one... well those two she didn't find herself caring much about, if she was honest, but her non-fighters did matter to her and she needed to either get them to safety or get to work on making the outside a little less hostile. "Oi, do you have a basement?" she asked Doctor August.
Dialogue Color: Brown

Holger Heyerdahl

Melody was right, this was familiar to Holger. As was the wooden stock of the rifle he'd taken from Breene's offer and now had laid across his lap. He was no sniper, but there wasn't a gun that Holger didn't know how to use. There had been opportunities for a pot shot or two, but behind a table, behind a couch, at ground level was hardly a sniper's delight, which, again, he was not. "A basement would not be a good idea. You said this is my territory, Melody, and trenches are my territory. Trenches are below ground, like basements, but trenches have ways out. Basements do not have ways out. What we need is a way out." He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes wild as he thought through the scenario.

"The real question is why they have besieged us. They have us outnumbered..." He counted on his hands everyone in the room and settled on a number, then his gaze went vaguely in the direction of their attackers and he seemed to be trying to count them as well. "Few to very, very many. They should just overrun us. It is what I would do. Or maybe blow us up." Holger spoke of his and the crew's demise matter-of-factly. This was war. People died. He would prefer not to, but the possibility hung thick in the air.

Without warning, he rose up from cover, took aim, and fired a quick shot, then ducked behind cover again. "I do not think I hit him, but I also want him to remember we are here." He smiled wickedly. He didn't want to say this specifically for his comrades, but he wanted to keep his adrenaline up. He might need it. "I think they want something. So, we must wait until we know what it is that they want or we have a way out." He redirected attention back to Doctor August. "Do you have a way out?"
Dialogue Color - Orange

Joakim Soong

Two hours ago:

"Want me to take some back to the ship for testing?"

The inflection in Missy's voice was like a tractor beam, pulling Jo towards her gravity of juvenile bickering more suited for a high school setting than a conversation between adult colleagues. He had no desire to revisit that place after their last outing together, but his sleep-deprived brain found it difficult to resist the siren call of her mean girl snark.

He could already feel an uncharacteristically catty response forming on his tongue, but fortunately they were saved by a gunfight.

"Fortunately" and "saved" being very relative terms here.



Jo found himself huddled next his Stepfordian arch nemesis and their captain. Now, instead of being back in high school, he felt like he'd traveled even further back in time; he was on a first grade field trip, starring Melanie as the firm but fair teacher watching over her class and Missy as the bratty kid he had to sit next to on the bus. Even the tablet he was clutching felt suddenly oversized in his hands. He might as well be playing Pocket Beasts for all the good he was doing right now. Turns out, being fired at wasn't great for his concentration.

"Oi, do you have a basement?"

"Yes, that's where the research equipment is," Jo chimed in, finally seeing an opportunity to be helpful.

"A basement would not be a good idea."

Not so helpful then. Jo fell silent again, listening to the exchange between the military folks. He wished he could contribute somehow.

"I think they want something. So, we must wait until we know what it is that they want or we have a way out."

"Not to state the obvious, but they probably want the chip," he leaned towards Melody. "Or the research. Or both. Just an, uh, educated guess."

He turned his attention back to his tablet and pretended he was doing something useful on it and definitely not just waiting for the situation to unfold.
Dialogue color: teal

Missy Etheridge

If Melody was acting like a brooding hen, Melissa certainly looked like one, puffed up defensively, all ruffled feathers and saurian hostility.

"It take you two hours to come up with that?" she snapped at Jo. It was thoroughly unfair, she knew, but the two hours had felt like ten and she was already on edge without being crammed in behind a table with him, and not even a tablet to distract herself with. Her ears were ringing from Holger's shot, her shin ached where it had gotten bonked against the overturned table in the scuffle to get behind it, and her stomach was insistently reminding her she'd never gotten to even try the dubious breakfast before the shooting started.

Still. That was no excuse to be rude. Missy was trying to be nicer to Jo after all, no matter how much he clearly hated her. She'd even agreed with him about breakfast, and offered to test it for him! After a brief pause and a heavy sigh, she gritted her teeth and said stiffly, "I apologize. That was uncalled for. We're all a little tense." Swiveling to find Breene's hiding place, she added, "You know the chip's background best. Anyone after it who could get here this fast?"
Dialogue color: Cornflowerblue | 6495ED

Talk less. Smile more.
Never let them know what you're against or what you're for.

William Breene

Breene was sitting in the tub of the cabin's bathroom. A pistol in each hand, he was trying to do another of his therapist's rhyming relaxation exercises.

"Dance, prance, chance..."

He popped up into the small window of the bathroom over the tub, pointing both pistols out the window he let loose two rounds from each weapon in rapid succession. It looked like maybe one round pinged off the steel frame of one of the improvised helicopter-ish vehicles. The smuggler threw himself back down into the tub as the retaliatory rounds started to spray the room.

"God damn it!!!"

Willy looked at the pistols, the slides were pulled back indicating he'd emptied both mags. He dropped one of the empty pistols and started loading the other. Then, he switched to the other loading it in turn as the rounds peppered the room. He let out a slow, controlled breath.


The blonde doctor was shouting a question to him from nearby. She wanted to know who might have known about the chip and gotten here this fast. Breene thought for a moment and the obvious answer came to him as he racked both pistols.


He whispered his answer dramatically. After a second the snarky Irishman remembered she probably couldn't hear him when he was speaking cinematically so he shouted his response again:

"It's the Russos! No idea how he recruited the locals! The whole county would have to hate the professor's guts for some reason!"

This actually seemed pretty plausible. The question was: How had the Professor and his colleague earned the ire of all the outlying villages?

Izak Archer

Today had certainly taken a turn for the absurd. But unfortunately for Izak, he could not do much unless the enemy got close. Way closer than Melody would more than likely have wanted them to be. Of course, it did not help much that he was watching from the bedroom while Breene was in the Bathroom and everyone else was in the other end of the cabin.

Sitting beneath the window, he had a mirror in one hand and a broomstick with a hat on it in the other, trying to judge the type of firepower they had.

"I am definitely investing in a revolver the next time we stop over somewhere," he said to himself.

After three or four attempts he was able to surmise that they were using pistols and probably rifles. Standard stuff for out here, but nothing he could do jack about from the far end of the house by himself. Especially at the current distance and with how spread out the...villagers...posse...mob...whatever the hell they were calling themselves were. Whether or not they had enough to actually surround the cabin was irrelevant. Ditching the broomstick but keeping the mirror, he crawled out of the bedroom then shut the door behind him, then took a moment out of site of the windows to barricade it with a smaller bookcase he found in the hall. It wouldn't do much about bullets, but it would make it hard to get in for a while at least.

Dropping back down to the floor, he began crawling his way down the hall, and passed the bathroom just after Breene nearly got Swiss-cheesed.

He looked back at him while he was yelling, shook his head and started crawling forward again. "Well, maybe we can kill that idiot this time?" Izak shouted back. He continued out the hall until he was within earshot of the rest of the group. Sitting up he braced himself in the opening of the hall to make himself as small as possible. He the placed his shotgun in his lap.

"Well everyone," he started, only to be interrupted by a bullet flying in and taking out a plate on a shelf. Izak exhaled heavily and continued, "Three things, first, they don't seem to have anything heavier than a couple of large caliber hunting guns. Second, I suggest we charge Breene double for the circus he's unwittingly walked us into. Third, we have access to enough stuff in here to make some fun surprises for them, if anyone is willing to lend me a hand."


"Yes, that's where the research equipment is," Jo answered, and Mel looked at him with what could have been considered some kind of pride at his quick response in such a stressful situation. Of course, on her face, it simply looked like the most marginal raising of her brows and the smallest twitch of the corner of her lips.

"A basement would not be a good idea... Basements do not have ways out. What we need is a way out," Holger countered, and she sighed heavily. He was right, of course. She needed to get to the ship and hop on the turrets. A few seconds of some rapid return fire would clear this right up.

"Do you have a way out?" Holger asked their host and she looked in the doctors' directions, waiting for them to inform them that they had some kind of secret tunnel carved out just for this very eventuality. The doctor didn't seem to be that great at making friends, after all, and she was sure his...eccentricity, had been the core of problems before...

"Not to state the obvious, but they probably want the chip," Jo murmured as he leaned towards her. "Or the research. Or both. Just an, uh, educated guess." Mel nodded, tensing noticeably with each bullet that made its way into their hideout, her arms still held out slightly to keep her chicks under the safety of her wings. "I hate these chips," she muttered, eyeing what she could see of Breene from his bathtub bunker. She hated him too. Just a little.

"You know the chip's background best. Anyone after it who could get here this fast?" Missy asked, Mel's chest puffing out just slightly. Even their reluctant doctor was actively looking for information or solutions. Maybe the blonde wasn't so bad. Well, she was bad, yes...even Mel couldn't pretend she wasn't. But maybe she wasn't so bad. Maybe...

"It's the Russos! No idea how he recruited the locals! The whole county would have to hate the professor's guts for some reason!" Her gaze slid over to the doctor again, now that Breene had joined them in the main room. Sort of. She could think of a few reasons why locals might not be fond of this professor. She had only known him for a day or so and she wasn't very fond of him. Then again, she supposed she liked him better than Breene. But that was very swiftly changing. Soon, they'd be tied. In any case, knowing who was after them didn't matter so much to her as how they'd get out of this situation. She'd deal with the who once they were safe.

"...I suggest we charge Breene double for the circus he's unwittingly walked us into..." Mel nodded curtly at Izak's suggestion, once more staring daggers in Breene's direction. "Third, we have access to enough stuff in here to make some fun surprises for them, if anyone is willing to lend me a hand." Leaning back a little, at the expense of Jo and Missy who were nestled behind her, she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned in thought.

"If we can get me to the ship somehow, I can start shooting these buzzards out of the sky. Otherwise, I'm at a loss. Ground tactics aren't my thing. All I can think of is to let them use up their ammo and then have them bottleneck at the door and take them out there," she returned. "But I'd feel better if we got Jo and the Doctor to the basement. Just while we sort this out," she offered, looking at Holger, and then the two behind her.
Dialogue Color: Brown

Holger Heyerdahl

Holger shrugged. Orders were orders. He'd offered his opinion and his Captain had considered it and made her own decision. Keeping low, he scurried over to where Jo and Missy were crouched and nodded that they should follow him. "Come." Holger led the way to the basement, being sure to move slow enough to encourage Jo and the Doctor to keep a proper pace and height with a sort of combination duck walk squat. And then they came to a long open space that stretched before the door to the basement, which Holger noticed opened outwards.

A grizzled hand reached out to halt Missy and Jo from walking into what was now essentially a shooting gallery, as Holger could only assume someone had line of sight here. "Wait here." He said, before returning back the way they came for a moment before ready, set, go he took off at a hard run towards the basement door. Snipers from outside the house spotted his huge running form and took aim, but too slow for the sudden burst of movement. Shots pinged and whizzed past, smashing through walls just behind the hurtling Holger. He threw himself across the shooting gallery, flying through the air, and smashing through the surprisingly cheaply made door to the basement, down the stairs, and out of sight in a cloud of dust and splinters.

The shooting stopped, at least in this vicinity. There was silence from the basement until... "Alright. Now you!"
Dialogue Color - Orange

Joakim Soong

This field trip just kept getting worse and worse for Jo. The stern but fair Ms. Melody had handed her two ducklings over to her equally capable but significantly more eccentric colleague, who was now leading them through the museum of gunsmoke and death and--

Alright, enough with the field trip analogue. They were caught in the middle of a decidedly one-sided gunfight. It was an extremely bad situation; Jo and Missy were both acutely aware of that. The only thing they could do was do as they were told, crouching as they followed in Holger's wake through the cabin, stopping when he ordered them to wait.

The doctor was distracted peering around their cover, trying to see their shooters without getting shot, but the hacker watched the giant take a few steps back in preparation, concern creeping into his face as realization dawned on him.

No... He couldn't possibly be about to...

Of course he was.

Holger's thundering flight and the crash of his bulky frame through the splintering wood certainly drew back Missy's attention. She stared in blank shock at what used to be the door, then turned back blinking to Jo to make sure he had seen the same thing she did.

"Alright. Now you!"

Missy's eyebrows shot up, and she took a hasty step backwards into deeper cover, decorating the action with a little curtsy-ish bob of her knees and an inviting swoop of her arms that gestured towards the open space. "After you," she invited serenely, the picture of courtesy and grace.

"What are you doing?" Jo turned to frown at her, his shoulders slumping with exasperation. He had expected Missy to make things more difficult somehow, but this was... he didn't even know what this was. "Can you stop acting like you're at a job interview for two seconds?"

A job interview? Missy almost had to laugh at how unexpected the question was. What in the 'verse kind of job interviews had he had? More importantly, was this really the time to finally have it out with each other? "Well cèshēn cāo wǒ, and here I was so hoping to be considered for the honorable position of swiss cheese!" she snapped. "Are you going or not?"

Jo bit his tongue, willing himself to rise above the urge to argue and focus on troubleshooting instead. "I don't think splitting up is a good idea," he glanced at the string of bullet holes left in Holger's wake, his brow furrowed in thought. "Holger had the element of surprise on his side, but the snipers will be quicker on the draw every time."

He made an annoyingly good point; Missy had to concede that. Besides, she supposed, if the shooters had two moving targets at once, that just reduced the odds that she would get shot. If Jo was volunteering to be her cannon fodder, who was she to argue? "Alright," she agreed without preamble. "Count of three?"

Jo nodded; he was just happy they seemed to be on the same page for a change. He took a step back, placing himself at the same starting line as Missy. "Alright. One..."


"...Three!" The hacker threw an arm around the doctor and pulled her close. He gripped her shoulders firmly, much like you'd hold a chicken to keep it from flapping its wings in your face, and charged. Just as they'd suspected, the snipers were ready for round two; the adrenaline rushing through Jo's blood propelled them both through the gunfire as one projectile, him covering her to the best of his ability. It was the same adrenaline that allowed him to ignore the sudden white hot pain in his shin long enough to get them through the splintered cellar door.

post co-written by Scout and kittyrex
Dialogue color: teal


May 31, 2021, 11:54:21 AM #10 Last Edit: May 31, 2021, 03:28:03 PM by HumanHyperbole
Missy and the freshly wounded Jo bounced down the stairs. Jo's gun-shot wound to the shin left him unable to brace them as they rolled down the cellar floor, past Holger, and into a coat rack, snapping one of its wooden legs with their sudden impact. The broken coat rack swung down at the ground like a guillotine. Narrowly missing Holger, it sliced through the lock on the basement's cabinets.

Inside was the professor's private notes. Drawings of civilian vessels retro-fitted for war, synthetic drugs, DJ setups, cannons, and some kind of kinetic weapon that would require advanced military guidance chips for its primitive gravity-assisted propulsion system. Of course, there were all the tools and chemicals a capable bomb-maker might need. It was just a matter of getting the mixture right and not blowing your own thumbs off.

Upstairs, Professor August was up and pacing about, in a tight loop between two windows. He obviously wasn't excited about the outsiders poking around in his lab right now. He got an idea, then pulled a vial of the powder he'd been trying to share the night before, and hoovered it straight up his sniffer. His eyes went wide, then black as night.

"Shlennaaabootttuuuhhhh!!! Tooonneeee booogeeeee shnacka!!!!

Ricardo roard out, speaking in tongues like some kind of whacked out pentacostalist. He saught to reconnect with his Paladin ancestors. Warrior monks and club-wielding holy men of all ilk he envisioned as his ancestors were to be the fire in his blood now.

Breene tried to stop him, but the man was determined, he rushed out the door, swinging a carved stick around. Halfway between the cabin and the Revenge he stopped his charge and stood his ground. He pointed his shaman-stick at the hovering sharp-shooters. His nonsensical babbling continued as a shriek.

"Finnaakka!!! Klaabbba todrnataa!!!!"

The moment hung in the air, like frozen time, then Professor Augusts' torso lit up with the viscera of multiple concurrent gunshots. The rifle-cracks followed just after given the distances the rounds traveled. He fell to the ground like a brick.

Back inside the cabin, Alan asked:

"Did he make it to the ship?!"

Breene stood there frozen...

"Was that supposed to be a distraction? You're supposed to tell OTHER PEOPLE ABOUT THE PLAN, RICARDO!!!"
The stunned Irishman shouted at his friend's corpse.

In the shuttle circling above, Yank and Valiente chuckled to each other as they watched the footage of Doctor August being reduced to swiss cheese on repeat. Those on the ground would have to try and make sense of his actions, and the clues left behind in his unlocked closet.

Holger Heyerdahl

Holger watched as Missy and Jo slid down the stairs, a glint of joy in his eyes as they slid to a stop. "Very good! I am impressed." He held up his left hand, the pinky bent to an atrocious angle and already turning purple. "I did not fare so well in my fall." He looked around the basement, unimpressed. There was indeed no obvious way out down here and no enemies to shoot, so Holger deemed it safe enough for the softies.

He grabbed his pinky and pulled it back into place and flexed it with a grimace. "Ah. Broken." He said with a shrug, clearly intending to deal with such a minor injury later. His rifle was retrieved from the floor and checked for damage. "I will leave you now. Stay." As he stepped over their fallen forms, he noticed Jo's leg wound. Holger's ice blue eyes went wide, his grin joining in. "Jo-A-Kim! You are shot!" He leaned down and looked the computer specialist in the eye. "I am so proud." And he was. As if Joakim was now a true comrade. He straightened without another word and returned to the first floor.
Dialogue Color - Orange


Mel watched the three of them sprint down the hall and into the basement, her eyes wide and jaw clenched. Only when they all disappeared below did she let out a breath and return her attention to the matter at hand. Jo and Missy were safe-ish now  and had made it down below in mostly one piece. She could now refocus her attention to getting them out of this situation.

Her head whipped up at the war cry of the Doctor and just like Breene, she made a futile attempt to grab at him when he slipped out of the man's range. "Wait!" she called out, not daring to go with him out the door and hunkering back down again in surprise. Wide eyes watched the red mist coil around his torso before he dropped and she slammed the door shut again, her hands flat on its surface. She could have used that distraction to get to the ship. But he hadn't told anyone it was a distraction until he was already busy distracting. Mel  was visibly shaking now, her back to the others, her hands balled up in fists. Her head turned and she shot Alan's closet and Breene a venomous glare, clearly trying her damndest not to punch one of them.

She made her way to where the Doctor had been pacing between the windows and peeked up and out of the corner of one of them, getting the smallest snippet of the sky into view. "Alex!" she shouted, completely getting his name wrong. "Elaborate on why the Russo's were able to get local support at such a damn large scale," she yelled at him, looking around the room and spotting the Doctor's radio equipment.

Alan took a moment to respond.

"Umm... It's Alan but uhh... Doctor August isn't exactly on 'borrow a cup of sugar' terms with the neighbors..."

The junior professor wasn't quite aware of how horribly things had gone with his bosses' attempt at using magic, or an ill advised diversion yet.

"Neither of us speak great Korean and the locals have been squatting on the University's property out here for years. Somebody got it in their head we're using radio waves to make their children sick, to drive them out... but really Doctor August is out here because nobody else at the University save myself wanted to work with him."

She crawled over to the table and peeked over its edge to begin fiddling with the radio. Her hand settled on the knob and she flipped the machine on, slowly turning it to to the right and listening to the static, waiting to hear any voices. With as much air 'craft' as they had, they'd likely have to be in contact with each other to prevent any accidental collisions.

Alan poked his head out of the closet. Melody turned her head to catch his gaze. If looks could kill.

"Tune it to 85.6 on the dial... that's the frequency range they usually talk to each other in those auto-gyros with..."*

He then retreated back into his fortress of solitude. Again, Mel began to visibly tremble with the amount of effort it was taking to not rip him out of the closet. Instead, she picked up a handful of pens and highlighters and lobbed them angrily in Breene's direction. Then, she got back to work, turning the dial carefully to get to the right frequency. When it was set, she picked up the mic and cleared her throat before holding down the transmit button.

"This is Mel Turner, Captain of the Revenge, requesting parlay," she announced.

*Alan/Alex narration provided by HumanHyperbole
Dialogue Color: Brown

William Breene

June 17, 2021, 11:15:11 AM #13 Last Edit: June 22, 2021, 01:06:37 PM by HumanHyperbole
Breene had retreated into a corner, his head down in his hands. His friend had just died and even if he was a drug-addled maniac, he was a fun maniac. He was Breene's maniac. He tried to do a rhyming scheme exercise, but he couldn't even think of the first word to start with. The celt scratched at his forehead with his pistol, then realized what he was doing and used some better muzzle discipline.

Stuffing the pistol into his hip-holster, he got up and marched quickly across the room. Crossing the sight-line of a window on the way, he heard a shot hit the wall behind him as he shot across the room with a purpose. Alan had retreated back into the closet. Breene decided right there the research assistant had spent enough time on the bench.

While his robotic arm had no strength advantages, there are things you don't punch through because it'll hurt *you*. But the terminator arm?

Willy punched once.


Breene punched again, splintering the wood further.

"I think you have some explaining to do!!!"


The robotic fist went all the way through the wooden door, but it scraped off the synthetic flesh facsimile. Looking up Alan saw only the robotic arm coming down at him before he was being pulled out of the closet entirely. The door splitting apart down the center, albeit messily.

"You are going to explain... very... very carefully... how your experiment is harmless... and that you are LEAVING THE SECOND ITS DONE."

The word "but" started to form on his lips before Willy slapped it right out of his mouth.


"Yeah, sounds good, William."

Willy hauled the muscular professor over to Mel and the radio, trying his best to stay low as he pulled the pointdexter by the arm-pit. He dropped the man once they got close and he immediately sprinted back across the room to the nearest window. Propped up just below it he started peering as best he could at the sky around them. He couldn't risk screwing up the parlay, but he could make sure they don't try anything in the mean-time.

At least that's what he tried to look like he was doing. Once Mel looked away, he pulled his handheld cortex unit out and started frantically typing out a message. It only took a couple seconds, a sense of relief and shame washed over him. It had to be done. The Celtic corsair hit send. The temporary ally of the Revenge crew got back to watching the sky.

On the radio a voice responded:

"Hello.... Machine....----"

Whoever was on the other end was flying one of those flying contraptions. They didn't have good reception and the sound of the rotors wasn't helping either. They could keep trying to establish contact and parlay, or risk the distraction and run for the Revenge strategy.

Izak Archer

June 22, 2021, 06:54:28 PM #14 Last Edit: June 22, 2021, 07:17:30 PM by Izak Archer
Getting downstairs just in time for Holger to express pride in Jo, Izak was pleasantly surprised to find that no one was dead yet. Aside from the recently deceased doctor out front.

Now that he was here though, Izak made his way back to the laboratory storage area and started digging around – carefully – for a few things that may be useful while Melody and Breene worked on the escape plan. Of course at this point they were on the backup plan for the backup plan of the backup plan's backup plan, so he was pretty sure the crew was scraping the bottom of the barrel. Pausing to think about Jo for a second he paused and opted to survey the space for medical supplies. Surprising, the eggheads that stayed out here actually kept safety equipment in the lab.

Just...not everything you would want for that purpose. In fact almost nothing. The was a container of distilled water, a nearly empty container of alcohol, and medical tape. He sighed and scratched his head. "Doctor," he hollered as he picked up the supplies. "Any of these useful?"

He put them down on the floor before returning to the room. After shuffling through a few more items, he shook his head and walked out dejectedly. Looking over to Holger he said, "Holger could you help me pull together the material for a smoke bomb or two? An maybe a couple real ones?"

Missy Etheridge

Missy's high-pitched scream would probably echo in Jo's ears for a good while after they careened across the open space and tumbled down into the lab, ending in a spectacular and splintery crash. Missy picked herself up out of the remains of the coat rack, dusted off her elbows and knees, and began gingerly picking wood shards out of her hands, hissing soft curses at each one. No injuries beyond the splinters and a skinned knee, at least, so that was something.

"So glad to have your approval," she muttered irritably under her breath at Holger's praise, then looked up sharply when he mentioned his own injury. "Definitely br—" she began, reaching out to take his hand and inspect the wounded finger, but Holger had already completed his own diagnosis and wandered off out of her reach to get his rifle before she could get anywhere with it.

"Would you at least let me splint it before you go running off?" Missy demanded, but Holger's attention was captivated by the hacker on the floor.

"Jo-A-Kim! You are shot!"


The doctor wheeled around to stare at Jo. "Not you too! For the love of..." She nodded a curt greeting at Izak and waved off the grinning Holger to get out of her way and back to getting himself blown up or whatever it was he was hellbent on doing. He and his tā mā de finger could take care of themselves for a bit while she dealt with the bigger problem.

"I expect this sort of thing from him, but it's bad enough without you starting," she complained as though Jo had gotten himself shot on purpose just to annoy her, kneeling down on the floor next to him to get a closer look at the wound.

The smiling version of Missy had gotten left back where they'd had their argument, leaving her abrupt and efficient as she got down to business and completely abandoned everything she'd ever drilled into herself about comforting bedside manners. "Lean against there and don't move," she ordered, indicating the wall behind Jo. "Then look around – without moving! – and tell me if you see scissors or a knife or something in all this gos se." Missy waved vaguely at the room, which looked to her like it had already been something of a mess before three people exploded into it and began smashing up the furniture. "I'll need to cut your pants leg away from the entry site."

"Doctor! Any of these useful?"

Missy spared a glance towards Izak's little pile of scavenged supplies. "They'll do," she muttered grimly.
Dialogue color: Cornflowerblue | 6495ED

Talk less. Smile more.
Never let them know what you're against or what you're for.

Joakim Soong

Joakim had never been athletic, not even when he was a little boy. His childhood was spent curled up with books and gadgets instead of outside climbing trees or playing sports. Because of this, he'd never really had the opportunity to properly injure himself before. Never broken a single bone.

Consequently, this crippling pain was a brand new sensation for him. One he could've gone his whole life not experiencing.

"Jo-A-Kim! You are shot! I am so proud." Holger's jovial face floated into view, like a proud papa encouraging his kid after they'd fallen off a bike. Joakim let out a barely audible whimper in response, and then the giant was gone, leaving him at the doctor's mercy.

"I expect this sort of thing from him, but it's bad enough without you starting..."

You're welcome, you know, a small, resentful voice in the back of Jo's head said, but his teeth remained gritted. Had he been of sound mind and body, he would have actually appreciated this new, no-nonsense version of Missy that had emerged, but right now all his mental facilities were focused on not passing out from excruciating pain. All he could do was follow her orders, crawling backwards until his back was propped against the wall. His hands hovered over the wound on his shin, as if feeling out the injury without actually touching it. He tried to think back to his first aid training; something about elevating appliance, keeping the limb pressured... no, that couldn't be right... it was really hard trying to recall any of this stuff when you were the one bleeding profusely.

On Missy's orders, Jo's eyes darted around the room, trying in vain to find scissors or a knife. Every detail in the room seemed uncannily crisp and sharp, yet the meaning of any of these details escaped him; it was just an assortment of alien things that made up the space he was currently occupying. He was only vaguely aware of Isaac's presence.
Dialogue color: teal


June 30, 2021, 04:28:45 PM #17 Last Edit: June 30, 2021, 04:41:31 PM by HumanHyperbole
The voice on the radio started to come in clearer. The auto-gyros loitering overhead started to press in closer.

"Where did the captain go?"

The voice on the other side of the radio spoke with lightly strained English. The locals were largely Korean speakers only. However, it seemed one of their amateur helicopter flying combatants also spoke a fair bit of the King's tongue.

"Uh... hi! This is Alan, Doctor August's assistant... or I guess I'm in charge now?!"

He looked around the room in a panic. But then it quickly shifted.

"Oh god I'm in charge now uhhhhh... WHOO! Okay.... I can finally rub this in my stupid former mother in law's god damn face..."

He remembered his boss was currently buzzard bait and taking a victory lap was premature. The voice reminded him further.


"Yes... you ARE in a position of power in this conversation. We uhh are almost done with our experiments and you know what, since I'm in charge now, we can just uhhh leave... Keep the cabin! I mean its the school's but I won't tell anyone if you use it. Though the ground is useless. Its full of toxic rocks from the meteor impact that created echo valley. HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN FARMING UP THERE?!"

"Most of our people only speak Korean, core-boy and we don't have money, we have to self-sustain. Do you want to buy our groceries? Why do you put microwaves in us?!"

Alan struggled to contextualize their experiment:

"Your radio is putting out radio waves into you too! But I promise its almost over and I will take our data and leave. I promise.... Please..."

Alan struggled to think of anything else to say. Flummoxed, he handed the microphone to the radio back to Captain Melody. he didn't say another word. Just threw his hands up and mouth the words "I don't know."

There was silence on the radio for a moment.

"If the Revenge's pirates stop shooting, we will wait for you to leave. Auto gyros stay. No more negotiation."

Static hissed as the other voice disconnected their end of the conversation. The shuttle continued circling like the scavengers that would soon come for Dr August's likely highly inedible flesh. The locals must have been impressed with the offer to leave today, given their grievance was primarily with the now-deceased drug-addled intellectual. The shuttle started to circle closer.

A new voice came in over the radio.

"Arright we're done playin' here."

It was Yank, sans Valiente.

"If that bitch aint burnin' and I don't see that Irish stain on the universe's ass with ten holes, I'mma be the one who irradiates your babies!"

Inside Valiente took over at the controls for their belly-turret. It was slightly under powered compared to Revenge's. But it could tear up the cabin and more with ease. Rather than target the Revenge or the cabin, he instead targeted the negotiator's auto-gyro.


A short burst rang out and just like that, there was a small puff of fire and debris amist the cloud of helicopter-esque flying machines. They began to scatter to avoid the debris destroying their rotors.

"You shouldn't have thrown in with the Mick, Revenge! That boat's gonna look REAL good with the name 'Russo' on it. Let's party, bitch."

As if to punctuate the point, bullets started ripping into the cabin near continuously, shredding any cover they were hiding behind.


"If the Revenge's pirates stop shooting, we will wait for you to leave. Auto gyros stay. No more negotiation."

Melody raised her brows at the radio, then turned her head to offer Alan a mildly impressed nod. This was alright with her. At this point, getting out of here with her crew intact was her top priority. She'd get the money from Alan or the Doctor's estate later, one way or another later. She held the mic in her hand and took a deep breath to start issuing cease fire and evacuation orders, but she didn't get much further than that.

"Arright we're done playin' here. If that bitch aint burnin' and I don't see that Irish stain on the universe's ass with ten holes, I'mma be the one who irradiates your babies!"

Ew? Her expression soured and she looked at the radio again, her jaw clenched tightly. Several deep breaths lifted and lowered her shoulders before she turned to stare in Breene's direction. She scratched at her neck idly, the vein in her forehead almost visible from where he was all the way across the room. The sound of much higher caliber and far more familiar gunfire made her flinch and put the mic back on the table. She reached out to push Alan, then stopped when none of the fire entered the cabin. Melody maeuvered toward where Breene was so she could peek out the window again. Her eyes widened. They were firing on their own. "La shi..." With a half yell, half snarl, Melody reached out to hit Breene in the side of the head, her hands settling on his shoulders as she shook him back and forth, trying everything in her power not to bite his nose off.

"You shouldn't have thrown in with the Mick, Revenge! That boat's gonna look REAL good with the name 'Russo' on it. Let's party, bitch."

She growled, shoved Breene away from her, and turned to crawl back toward the radio and Alan, reaching him just as the fire started raining down on the cabin. Melody picked up the microphone and shouted out a final, "Nǐ huì bì zuǐ ma? Nǐ māmā shì yītóu lǘ, nǐ bàba shì yī zhǐ wú máozhū hóu. Wǒ xīwàng nǐ sǐ yú qìchē huǒzāi. Wǒ yào bǎ nǐ de gēbó chě xiàlái, bǎ tāmen tuī dào nǐ de pìgu shàng. If you touch my ship I will use your spleen as toothpaste!" before slamming the receiver down and shoving Alan as hard as she could toward the basement door, spotting Holger between it and them. "Back! Down! Now!" she yelled, not bothering to check and see if Breene was behind her. She was mostly alright with him getting killed. It would only be a little oopsie, and one she could live with.
Dialogue Color: Brown

William Breene

June 30, 2021, 07:26:33 PM #19 Last Edit: June 30, 2021, 07:30:44 PM by William Breene

Melody shook him like a glass ketchup bottle that wouldn't cooperate. He wasn't sure what she was angry about specifically, but whatever it was he probably deserved it. This was a familiar feeling. If anything getting thrashed by the Revenge's captain was already becoming routine. Willy smiled at her sheepishly, hoping she gave him enough time to try and pull a rabbit out of his ass. Or hat? However that metaphor goes.

As the previously mentioned angry captain addressed Yank and or Valiente, the sketchy ride-along was looking at his cortex again. He checked the map and saw his contact was getting close. Breene got lucky that they were in the solar neighborhood. The mischievous smile returned and grew. He followed Melody and Alan towards the stairs but then stopped short, shouting down the stairs.

"Don't worry about the distraction!"

A bullet impacted just by his head. The rounds were spraying around randomly but his luck was bound to run out. The luck of the Irish only gets you so far. Breene screamed at the shuttle riddling their weekend drug palace with lead:

"Gāisǐ de, nǐ zhè gāisǐ de màohào, bǎ rénlèi de pìgu guà zài wàimiàn!!!"

He dropped down and was now totally prone on the floor. Getting back to yelling down the stairway, he now addressed Holger, specifically, he hoped the warrior knew his improvised explosives as well as he, the former alleged terrorist, did.

"Hey! Big red! Are you feeling Welsh today?!"

The guest star then crawled across the floor towards a trash bin, Breene started shoving books from the bookcase into the bin. Breene tossed a lighter from his pocket into the bin, then pulled out his pistol, and shot the joint-ignition device. The tiny pop and explosion lit the books and volumes on theoretical physics. He knelt next to the tiny fire as he waited for it to fill the room. The fire wasn't exactly roaring and for all the explosive ignition, the fire itself was pretty underwhelming.

"Lā xià wǒ de ěrduǒ, bǎ wǒ rēng dào yángguāng xià!"

Then a burst of gunfire started ripping into the room again and he threw himself to the floor again. This time knocking over the tiny fire in the bin. By the time he felt the warm and looked up, he saw the curtains catching on fire. William couldn't help himself.

"Baahahahahahaha!! Burn it all and man the cannons boys!! WE'RE PIRATES NOW!!"

The mad-man threw himself down the stairs as more rounds continued to hammer the cabin. As the building started to burn above them the smell of smoke and fire permeated all around them. Tumbling to a stop, he groaned as he finally came to a rest next to the supply closet.

"Hey guys... Aghh.... Good news bad news sandwich... Good... I concealed our movements and activity...bad... the cabin's technically on fire...more good news: if the Welsh Cannons work, they'll put out the fire, and take out anyone who's still here and making a ruckus...Yeah? See it's not all bad... ghaa I think my tailbone is broken... "

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