S1: Ep1 - You'll Never Leave Haven Alive

[Genevieve LeBlanc]

Then:

"I want you both checking in with Gen over comms every twenty minutes... Questions, again, talk to Gen."

Gen's gaze met Noah's and she grimaced. She knew he was trying to get under her skin, or to annoy her, and she didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Still, she couldn't help the way her eye twitched.

"Gen, I reckon you're going incognito? Cheap office casual could get you mixed in with the inspectors," Noah asked. Brushing a non-existent speck of dust off the front of her shirt, she nodded.

"Seems the best way to go about it," she answered simply.

Now:

Gen stood behind Noah and Hyde, her hair tied in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, and wearing a simple beige business suit. As far as suits went, it was rather drab and unassuming, which was exactly the point of it. She busied herself with the clipboard in her arms, a briefcase hanging from the crook of her arm. All in all, she blended into the background, as intended.

Her eyes never quite met anyone else's, although she did scan the room and clock each person residing within. A young man, an older gentleman, a woman, a nervous man who she wagered wasn't an inspector, and the Sheriff. Their locations, attire, body language, and personal belongings were categorized and filed away.

Staying in the back of their ranks, she'd let Hyde and Noah be the front facing members of this team.

[Noah MacArthur]

"G'day, Alliance Marshals."

Noah projected his voice without quite shouting. The Aussie's booming baritone went momentarily unanswered. He started banging on the door. Loud enough that anybody inside couldn't pretend they didn't hear him.

"ALLIANCE MARSHALS!"

The door finally swung open. Noah forced a smile.

"G'day, Alliance Marshals."

The Fed's eyes darted back and forth, checking the surrounding area, then back to the cop blocking the doorway. Still holding their gaze, fake smile widening he asked:

"You gonna let me in, mate? We've got the last investigator you all were waiting on, and I reckon you want to get this over with as bad as we do."

He motioned with a neck jerk towards Gen, the fictitious inspector. The cover story for Gen's late arrival would be her riding along with the marshals, and getting held up by their duties. Gen had the great idea that their characters don't quite get along and they've gotten on each other's nerves. And she can't stand the smell of horse shit.

There were a lot of similarities between Gen and her character.

[Hyde]

Desmond stood motionless next to the captain like a golem with an unchecked enthusiasm for kevlar and carbon-fiber.  Deciding to go with the classic all-black alliance ferro-ceramic armor under his trusty coat and a modern pair of large-frame and dark sunglasses, found in the ship's maintenance hangar, which would explain their resemblance to welding glasses, albeit fashionable ones which would help with the needed theatrics.

If he was going to play the part of the ubiquitous jackboot authoritarian thug he would respectfully up the psyops component and do the part justice, after all he had been method acting the role going on a few decades. Ultimately he intended his presence would draw some unwanted attention away from Gen and their shaky cover story enough to blend in without too many eyebrows raised. It was time for Hyde to made an appearance.

As the door flung open, Hyde made sure to be positioned on Noah's flank with a clear line of sight and fire into the door, in the unlikely case any of the gracious hosts were feeling particularly spicy about today's unwanted scrutiny.

With a heart-beat passing after the captain provided a cursory notice Hyde brushed past the Sherriff through the now open doorway with a long-perfected "accidental" shoulder bump in passing. The one to remind those with a perceived sense of power how easy it is to be knocked off balance, and it was downright satisfyingly cheeky.

After making a quick visual scan with no immediate threats in the small office Hyde walked a small circle around the room's occupants like an armored panther before stopping within inches in front of the younger Deputy.

Staring unblinkingly behind his new welder's shades and with learned movement Hyde silently pulled a large 100mm diameter cylinder from his chest bandolier and released the contents with a mechanical hiss.

A fluorescent yellow and green round object fell into his hand.

Hyde placed the object in his mouth, taking a large and crisp bite out of the bright colored apple.

Nodding to himself and leaning in close to the deputy he whispered a single word just loud enough for them to hear.

"......Granny Smith....."

Still without blinking behind the darkened sunglasses, Hyde took a spot next to the doorway facing the room's occupants and began taking small and deliberate bites from the small brightly colored fruit.

[Nelly Newcastle]

Nelly had grown up on a pastoral estate in rural Londinium. While it was not quite a working farm, there were orchards that were tended to, but not worked by her family. Nelly being the rebellious sort that went against her father's wishes, had helped the caretaker Mr. Boddington from time to time and that meant, on occasion, watching him clean out the stables that housed the one or two horses they may have had at the time. Mr. Boddington was not only a proud man, but an old fashioned one as well and thought very little of little Miss Nelly scooping horse shit.

She still remembered the smell fondly.

But now, shovel in hand, her memories faded and were replaced by reality as she slid the steel shovel under a particularly fresh pile and heaved it into the wheelbarrow sitting nearby. "Oh, how is there so much shit? It's just one horse!" She looked at her partner, young Rory Mayfield, with a forced grin. "I imagine you're loving this." She propped the shovel up on its blade and rested her chin on the handle. "When the Captain said-" Nelly affected Noah's voice, accent and all. "-rear security and counter-intelligence. I didn't think he meant a horse's rear." She laughed, hoping Rory, whom she was still just getting to know, would laugh with her.

[Rory Mayfield]

Rory was not loving this, but he wasn't outright resenting it either. He was disappointed, yes, but not surprised that an intern like himself would be saddled with a job nobody else wanted to do. What did seem unfair was for Nelly to share the same fate. She was an actual adult with actual training, surely she would be more useful elsewhere -- although, on a personal level, Rory was grateful for the company.

He did not fully join in on her laughter, more like dipped his toe in with a cautious little chuckle. He was a little more at ease now that he could be fairly sure a superior wouldn't be walking in on them goofing around on the job, but it still felt strange to him.

"This one time at scout camp I was on dish-washing duty -- which is usually fine, I rather like doing the dishes -- but I was paired up with this girl who seemed to have a real problem with it." At first, he kept shoveling as he spoke, but his movements grew slower as he got engrossed in his tale. "We were always told to clean our plates, but you know, there were leftovers -- we'd had meatballs and gravy -- and she kept pointing at them and scrunching up her face and saying things like 'ew, that looks just like my cat's poo' or 'yuck, that looks just like the time my cat threw up in my lap.'"

"Maybe she was playing it up for laughs, but she also kept gagging every time she picked up one of the messier plates. She kept it up the whole time, and I kept telling myself it was just meatballs and gravy, nothing nasty, but by the end I was feeling pretty sick myself."

At this point, Rory realized he had completely stopped shoveling, and resumed doing what he was supposed to do.

"The point is... compared to that, this actually, somehow, isn't that bad." It was true; the smell wasn't great, but it was easy enough to ignore, at least when you weren't paired with someone who was constantly drawing attention to it. At least horses were herbivores, at the less offensive end of the fecal grossitude spectrum.

[noseatbelts]

Rory and Nelly - Wyatt

Despite it being a rather small, impromptu sort of stable, it took them no short amount of time as the amount of poop from this horse was substantial. Rory might have been able to rattle off a fact like "Horses and ponies are designed to be grazers. They are supposed to eat small meals frequently that are mostly fiber based throughout the day. As a result, it is quite normal for a horse to poo 8-12 times a day and produce anywhere from 13 to 23 kilograms of poo a day." Whereas Nelly would recall Mr. Boddington cleaned the stables once a day, every day, up to and including the day he died. But finally, they were finished. Poop scooped and hay laid. All that was left to do was put the horse back where she belonged.

Where was the horse?


Noah, Gen, and Hyde - Sheriff's Office

Karlo and Bob shared a look just before Hyde checked Bob into the wall just behind the door. Bob kept his feet, and an eye on the Federal bruiser. He wouldn't forget that.

"Ah... the Marshals are here."   "Ah, the Marshals are here!" Karlo and Richard said together, but with very different intonations. The Sheriff scratched at his stubble and sighed, silently signaling Bob to stand down when he saw the fire in his deputy's eyes. Karlo kept his seat, showing the Marshals what he thought of their preference.

Richard, on the other hand, jumped to his feet and grabbed Noah by the hand. "Good to see you Marshal. Are you the Captain? Er...MacArthur? I want to begin right away." His eyes fell on Gen, understanding the ruse, immediately. He extended a hand to her as well. "I'm sorry, we haven't met. But, I'm, uh, familiar with you. Your face. What was your name again?"

Bret jumped up from the couch at the sight of Gen and put on the smarmiest smile in the system. "Hello. Bret White, Assistant Lead Investigator. And you are?"

"Assistant Lead Investigator isn't a thing." Richard cut in. "Marshal, would you be so kind as to lead us outside? I'd like to begin with a perimeter of the mine..."

Karlo jumped to his feet, alarmed. "Perimeter? Mine's almost ten miles around. Not to mention the storm..."

"Storm seems to be dissipating, according to radar data I have here." Simone said, pointing to her cortex display.

Richard looked out the window and smiled. "I brought my walking shoes, Sheriff. I certainly hope you have yours."

[Noah MacArthur]

"Good to see you, Marshal. Are you the Captain? Er...MacArthur? I want to begin right away."

"Deputy, technically. Marshal Blue is technically the Marshal for this district. I'm more than happy to get this show on the road."

There was a lot of back and forth about the weather. Something else too maybe. Noah wasn't paying attention to anyone's words anymore. He was watching body language. And that guy with the glasses, something wasn't right with him. He looked at everyone in the room like he was making a list of who he'd draw on first and the order of who'd take each shot after that. Noah should know because it was a force of habit for him too. But it was at least the former Special Operator had orders and wasn't meant to be carrying out the due process of law. It was a shaky moral high ground but MacArthur still felt firm atop it.

"I brought my walking shoes, Sheriff. I certainly hope you have yours."

"What's a little drizzle to stand in the way of law and order, mates?"

Noah gave the "Sheriff" a half-hearted smile then made his move towards the door. No sense in leaving time for the Sheriff to disagree. The investigators were keen to get to work, and if the rent-a-cops wanted to drag their heels they could stay inside and cry to their bosses about how the mean old feds wanted to take a peek at their chattel's living and working conditions.

As everyone filed out, he clapped Bob, whose name he didn't know yet, on the shoulder.

"Why don't you hang back with me?"

--

Bob whipped around, reacting instinctively to the unexpected physical contact. The mine-cop's hand was already at his waist. Noah looked down at the younger man's weapon, then up at his face. The fake smile was back now, but bigger.  Bob matched with an even wider, more out-of-place smile.

"Oh, why's that?"

Bob let out a chuckle. For about five seconds too long.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, let's just get on our way. Just... you go ahead first a few steps ahead of me."

Bob laughed even harder this time.

"Man you're so funny. This is a great prank. Acting like you're gonna tail me so you can shoot me in the back of the head if things pop off. Right?"

Bob was absolutely right but Noah couldn't let him know that.

"No... no... let's just get on with the job, mate."

The others weren't waiting on them, investigators, sheriffs, or deputy marshals. With them safely out of range to hear the conversation they both started to get more blunt.

"I seriously think, that you think I'm gonna execute all those nice investigators and dump their bodies in an abandoned shaft! Which is offensive! I am a professional and I would wait until after you guys leave before I did that. I'm not stupid! Besides... If you and I fought-"

Bob's hand, still on his pistol, dis-engaged the safety.

Noah didn't let him take the moment to finish that thought or action. A quick jab to the throat had him gulping, with a gag for air.

"Unfair!"

A quick-draw with his side arm, Mac blew out Bob's left shin, then gave him a pistol whip to the temple for his impertinence.

They were a long way off, but Gen heard the shot.

"Mac, you fucking bellend!"

She was already tackling, and then choking out another deputy with her legs in what looked like a Lucha-Libre move. A couple of quick pops, a soft thud, then BANG! Leblanc's concealed pistol and Hyde's grenade launcher were now in action. The investigators were all running in one direction, back towards Noah.

The Captain directed his attention back to Bob, grabbing him by the throat.

"Sharpshooters, where are-"

Noah felt a drip of blood going down his cheek, then down his neck. Then he heard the delayed crack of a high-powered rifle being fired from long range. Too late.

--
"Oh, why's that?"

Bob looked at him, hints of suspicion in his gaze. Just like how he imagined Bob would react. But Noah couldn't push things as much as he wanted to. The Deputy Marshal was there to squeeze down on these bastards but he couldn't squeeze until they popped. The Captain wanted his adversaries on their back foot but his usual way of dealing with things just wasn't going to work.

Gen needed to do her job, Noah needed to do his. Which did not involve starting a firefight on their first day of the assignment.

"Ahh nothin' mate, just wanted somebody to talk to while we hang back and make sure those jokers don't get us into trouble."

He said pointing at the other sheriffs, and deputies and starting to march on after them.

"How long you been on the job, mate?"

Allowing Bob to flank him from behind, almost as a show of trust, Captain MacArthur continued on with his new, friendlier course of action.

[Genevieve LeBlanc]

Away Team

"I'm sorry, we haven't met. But, I'm, uh, familiar with you. Your face. What was your name again?"

"Hello. Bret White, Assistant Lead Investigator. And you are?"

Gen reached out toward the first extended hand, fumbling with her documents and briefcase just the appropriate amount to seem a little clumsy and flustered, as though the separation and late arrival had her off balance. "Ah, yes, we've met before. I brought those Danishes everyone seemed to like uh, oh! Wells, Sarah Wells," she reintroduced to the man she had never met before.

Her eyes snapped toward Bret's direction next, and a couple of calculations ran through her mind before she settled on her next course of action: How to respond to Bret's attentions. Finally, she smiled sheepishly and managed a convincing enough blush before taking her hand back and smoothing it over her hair in a nervous but preening sort of gesture. "Nice to meet you, Mister White," she returned, allowing him to think his peacocking was working.

"Assistant Lead Investigator isn't a thing." Richard cut in. "Marshal, would you be so kind as to lead us outside? I'd like to begin with a perimeter of the mine..."

Gen allowed herself to be shepherded into the the group of inspectors, keeping herself square in the middle of the group and yet slightly behind them to serve as a barrier between the blue collars and the stragglers, letting Noah have his alone time with Bob. Despite wanting to know what they were up to, she could wager a guess and refused to look back, instead busying herself with paying close attention to the group she'd put herself into and Karlo. Despite having known him for such a short amount of time, she felt she could trust Hyde to put himself into a smart position without needing any instruction on how or where to do so. Although she might have to talk to him about his approach to public relations once this was all said and done...

[Nelly Newcastle]

"Where's the horse?" Nelly asked lightly, taking a step or two towards the open cargo bay ramp. She was sure that once she got to the bottom of the ramp the horse would be right there, grazing on a tuft of grass poking out of the arid rock. Shadow was traded for sunlight and Nelly shielded her eyes against the glare with a hand at her brow. No horse. She looked left. Then right. "Um... Rory. Where did you put the horse?" She turned to look back at the intern, barely visible from her current point of view. Maybe the horse was deeper in the cargo bay and she'd merely missed it? Unlikely but better than the alternative.

She raced back up the ramp, finding now her eyes had to adjust to the darkness inside. "Where is it?" Panic was not allowed to set in. Nelly kept her breath even and tried to slow her heart rate. "You tied it up, right? Or did I tie it up?" She wasn't sure. "Bollocks. Shit. Shit. Shit. Bollocks." The horse was very clearly not in the cargo bay. It wasn't that big in there and the horse was, well, not small. "We have to find it. It can't have gotten far." They were on strict orders to not leave the ship. But they were also supposed to watch over the horse, so....

[Rory Mayfield]

Home Team

Rory was sure Nelly had told him she'd tie the horse up.

He was pretty sure.

He wasn't sure at all.

Maybe she'd actually told him to do it and he'd misheard her. He really needed to pay more attention to his orders. Had Nelly even given him any? They'd been chatting so casually that he'd forgotten there was supposed to be a chain of command between them. That's why this has happened. He had messed up. Order needed to be restored.

"Right, you watch the ship and I'll go look for him." Nelly was the higher-ranking officer, she should be the one to kick back while the lowly intern did the legwork-- or would that be reducing her to a ship-sitter while he was out on the field, actively taking charge of the situation? That didn't seem right. Maybe it should be the other way around. He should be the one to stay behind while she handled things like the expert she was.

"No, uh, I'll watch the ship while you go look for him." Now he was just ordering her around. Who was he to send her on a wild horse chase while he slacked off? This was terrible.

"I mean... you should... I should.... uh... what should we do?"