S1: Ep2 - War Hawks

Started by noseatbelts, July 05, 2021, 11:50:23 AM

Jedikiah Rembo

Jedikiah stopped playing. He held the violin to his side.

He listened and moved to the comm in the cargo deck.

"Rembo here, On my way."  He moved quickly without running, stopped by his cabin to put away his violin.
A quick consideration of anything else. He quickly changed shoes and put on a coat in case there was something needing a quick off ship response.

Jed entered the bridge. Cooper's voice had been slightly off his usual professional guarded manner. A slight stress of questioning concern?

"Mr. Brown. Any word from our away crew?"
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Cooper Brown

Cooper stood up against a console on the bridge, absent-mindedly tapping out a beat on the metal casing. The rhythm of his tapping increased until Jed arrived. He felt himself relax slightly and he welcomed the martial artist with a nod. The moment he felt tempted to get back on the PA, Pele arrived.

"Mr. Brown. Any word from our away crew?"

He answered bluntly.

"I haven't the slightest clue and that's the issue."

He paused momentarily then explained without any embarrassment:

"I'm not terribly informed of the current operation, so my best idea is for us all to leave the ship and just start asking if anybody's seen a fancy lady, couple soldiers and an alien. I mean a pale lady or something."

Damn it, Cooper! Keep it together. They probably don't think she's an alien too.

Mr Brown, thinking on his feet quickly pivoted the topic. He pointed at Pele and inquired:

"How good with a pistol are you?"

He produced a simple snub-nosed revolver from a holster on the small of his back.

"Don't worry. Its not-"

The aussie-accented mechanic paused, then popped out the cylinder and confirmed it was, in fact, loaded.

"Don't worry. The safety is -"

*Click*

"-on."

Jedikiah Rembo

February 17, 2023, 04:27:07 PM #102 Last Edit: February 20, 2023, 09:26:06 AM by Jedikiah Rembo
Home Team
Odette
Bridge

Jedikiah nodded in a similar manner as Cooper Brown had as he had entered the bridge.
A gentle smile at Velocity's description, not associating any thought that Brown might truly think so.

"They would seem to be memorable, someone should be able to get us set in a proper direction."

Brown began a short introduction to a small firearm to Pele.

"I'll get my staff." He said. "And meet you at the cargo door."

He stopped by the med bay and retrieved is staff, a properly innocent feature for an old man. Then he slid the medical backpack over his should and headed to the exit.



Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Pele Kesher

February 21, 2023, 12:19:02 AM #103 Last Edit: February 21, 2023, 12:20:44 AM by Pele Kesher
Location: Odette

Pele cleaned the bathroom after herself as well as she could be bothered (not very). There was no point wasting effort on covering her tracks. Even if the tub had time to dry thoroughly by the time the captain returned, the lingering scent of lilac soap would surely give the game away. Oh well. She would worry about that when Charity confronted her about it. If Charity confronted her about it.

Pele had gotten dressed and returned to her room and was in the middle of re-applying her makeup when Cooper's voice came through the PA systems. She groaned and made a face at the mirror. After the workout and bath all she wanted to do was to lay on her bed perusing a magazine, but she was done being in the dark about what was going on on the ship, and not being in the dark required getting updated, and getting updated required not locking yourself in your room while the others connived.

Fine.

Pele arrived at the bridge just in time to hear Jed and Cooper discuss the missing crew. Fantastic, just what she needed to cap off her afternoon of rest and relaxation. She was too stunned by Cooper's suggestion that they all leave the ship to even register the fact that he had called Velocity an alien. There was a reason Pele had opted to stay on the ship, and it wasn't because she enjoyed being cooped inside the tin can for days on end.

"How good with a pistol are you?"

At the sight of the revolver, Pele's mind flashed back to the man she had shot back on Persephone. She hadn't thought about him as much as she thought she would have, considering he was the first person she'd (presumably) killed. It didn't keep her up at night, but every now and then, the thought surfaced unexpectedly, like a memory of something embarrassing you said at a party -- brief enough to not completely derail whatever she was doing, but potent enough to turn her stomach and leave an aftertaste of shame that lingered even after she'd moved on.

As Jed left the cockpit, Pele's face fell just a little, more openly displaying her annoyance at Cooper now that she no longer needed to put on a pleasant face for the old man. Her displeasure grew as she watched the mechanic fumble with the weapon.

"I've got my own, thank you very much,"  she crossed her arms when he offered the gun to her. "What I don't have are snow shoes. Or a winter coat. Or anything that will keep me from freezing to death long enough to get into a gunfight."

She wanted to add some jab about Cooper expecting her to get her hands dirty for him -- again -- but she held her tongue. Despite this turn of events, she was still feeling relatively relaxed from the tai chi and warm bath. Lucky for him.

noseatbelts

February 21, 2023, 07:56:20 AM #104 Last Edit: February 21, 2023, 07:58:00 AM by noseatbelts
Away Team

Left to their own devices in the cell for some time, though not long, the door clanged open without warning, letting the cold air back in with a whoosh and a howl. The same fresh faced soldier from before stood in the doorway. He looked them all over. "The Major says you have to get dressed." He stood aside and two more soldiers dragged in a giant trunk and dropped it on the ground before them. It was opened, revealing a large assortment of clothing pieces, from every fashion and style choice. It was reminiscent of a child's costume assortment. "You can pick from these. Dinner attire, formal, but not necessarily black tie." He recited, as if from a script he was given. Then, off script, he looked at Charity and blushed. "You look just fine, ma'am." And just as quickly as the door opened, it shut again, leaving them to get dressed.




Home Team

With the decision to leave made, the home team had time to find themselves some cold weather gear, whether it be in their own baggage/effects, leftover crew gear, or Captain Charity's Closet. Once outfitted, they were ready and when they opened the cargo bay doors, they were greeted by two Leather Hound soldiers, though to Cooper, Jed, and Pele, who had missed the introductions, they could have been anyone.

Luckily, the soldiers weren't expecting anyone, thinking the ship was empty. They fumbled with their weapons and the home team had only a moment to react.

Charity

Velocity lifted her head and looked at Charity. Now that she seemed to have calmed down, Charity extended a hand to the taller woman, beckoning her closer like a mother bird calling to its chicks.

"I don't know about you but I counted sixteen, but there's probably a second shift so double that and add some....They did jam our comms, though. So that's troubling."

"I say we're humped," Francis told her.

Charity inhaled slowly, looked around with the breath held in her chest, then slowly let it out. "They want us to go to dinner, so we have at least that long to get ourselves in order," she said to the group, glancing at Velocity as she did so. "We'll need our wits about us. I'd like you and King to position yourselves ahead of and behind Velocity and me, when possible. I imagine dinner might be a little more formal and they may insist upon specific seating, but during transit..." she trailed off, looking in King's direction. Then, she looked away again.

"The fact that they're keeping us warm, albeit confined, bodes well for negotiations. If they weren't inclined to keep us comfortable and safe they could have had us wait outside, or in a tent. And they wouldn't have invited us to eat," she guessed. Honestly, all of this was based on her understanding of aristocratic societies, and not military groups, but she hoped that there was some overlap.

"I'm confident that this can still go the way it was meant to, we'll finish the job, and be back on our way to Iscariot shortly," she lied, smiling weakly at King once more.



Charity stood by herself in the middle of the room, hands clasped at her navel and chin aloft. She looked around the room, trying not to be annoyed or disheartened by how long they were being made to wait. Perhaps it was simply taking them a long time to set up the dinner hall... She shook her head at herself.

The Captain tried not to jump out of her skin when the door opened, her training as a debutante keeping her poised and still despite the thundering of her heart in her chest. She raised her brows in question at the soldier who entered, then at the box that the others deposited.

"The Major says you have to get dressed. You can pick from these. Dinner attire, formal, but not necessarily black tie." Despite the harrowing situation they'd likely found themselves in, she'd have been lying to herself it the idea of the crew putting on the appropriate attire for dinner didn't excite her. She liked their senses of fashion, sure, but if she was honest with herself, they really left something to be desired. Charity eyed King almost guiltily, as though he might have heard her thoughts and been hurt by the fact that she thought he could have dressed a tiny bit more refined... although there was something about the rugged man that made her think that maybe not everything had to be fancy... Again, she shook her head at herself.

"You look just fine, ma'am," the soldier informed her, and her smile returned easily. Her back straightened, shoulders rolled back, and she felt a renewed vigor. That's right, she did look just fine. If a formal dinner was their next obstacle, she was rather confident that she'd do just fine.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Velocity Grey-Lambert

For a moment, Velocity just stared at Charity's outstretched hand as though the hand, let alone the gesture, or what it represented, was completely beyond her comprehension. Slowly, within the context of Velocity's accelerated thoughts, the answer came; first a lifting of her own hand toward Charity's, and then slowly Velocity moved one foot, and then the other, until she was standing next to the Captain, looming head and shoulders over Charity. Velocity wasn't really tracking as Francis spoke, still focusing on keeping her mind from sliding over the edge. King had helped grant a reprieve, and her hand in Charity's was helping her move slowly, almost glacially away from that edge but the battle wasn't won, let alone the war but then, for Velocity, the war would never be over.

"I say we're humped"

Fortunately, although Velocity did hear that last statement, she was now standing, metaphorically, within Charity's bubble of protection, and it deflected the psychic lance, though the noise it made in doing so still startled Velocity.

"They want us to go to dinner ... like you and King ... ahead and behind Velocity ... transit

"I don't want to be any tr... I don't want to be any more trouble than... perhaps I should st..." Velocity stopped, perhaps understanding that it wasn't a battle she could win.




Velocity had found herself a corner to curl up in, all legs and arms, and looking like a spider; it didn't feel very safe but she was holding on. Her eyes, wide and scared swept the room at irregular intervals, and finding nothing to cause her to believe that there was an imminent threat, closed them again.

The sudden opening of the door elicited a little squawk of fright from Velocity, and she tried to compress herself deeper into her corner, while her eyes seemed to do the impossible and become even rounder. She stayed otherwise motionless as the chest was brought in, and although she was watching it, Velocity still jumped and emitted another squawk of fright when the chest hit the floor. Of course, even if they had put it down as gently as was humanly possible, it still probably would have caused her to jump.

Dressing up seemed to make it feel too close to being invited to their last meal, which in turn, was far too close to the memory of the last meal that she had had with Bonnie before... before... before... Fortunately her mind shied away, protecting itself from that memory, at least for the time being; whether that protection would last long enough for Velocity to get through the meal was yet to become clear. She looked at Charity in silent appeal, though whether it was to be allowed to avoid going to the meal, avoid dressing, or for assistance in deciding on something for her to wear, was something that even Velocity didn't know.

Player: Clare
Characters: Beth

Akhsar King

"I don't know about you but I counted sixteen, but there's probably a second shift so double that and add some... None of them have body armor and didn't look like they had any heavy rifles, just standard issue AKMs and G36Ks. At least standard issue for the Independents, which really means it's a mish mash of garbage and pigu.... They did jam our comms, though. So that's troubling."

King raised an eyebrow at Francis's outburst of operational competency. He'd only counted fifteen, but he could guess where the one he'd missed had been. He was happy to have someone else with tactical experience with them. He didn't like the idea of having to shoot their way out of here, but Francis had proven to be good in a fight, and King was glad the man was there. "Check. Figure forty plus change. Their gear may not be great, but not much beats an 10-to-1 numerical advantage. Comm jammer could just mean they don't want to be found... Or it could mean other things. So yeah, troubling."

"She gonna to be ok?" King gave Velocity an appraising look. "Yeah, Speedy'll be fine." He said as he passed her to Charity.

The Captain took charge, and King listened as she spoke, giving her an encouraging look when she trailed off.

"I'm confident that this can still go the way it was meant to, we'll finish the job, and be back on our way to Iscariot shortly," King returned her smile. Faked or not, a leader who appeared confident could make all the difference.





King had been leaning against the wall to one side of the big door when it opened. is eyes narrowed as the soldier brought in a... trunk? "The Major says you have to get dressed. You can pick from these. Dinner attire, formal, but not necessarily black tie." The look on Kings face in that moment was one of dubious incredulity... which turned into wry amusement at the soldiers comment to Charity. As the door closed, King pushed off from the wall and knelt by the trunk, assessing its contents. "Well this is either a good sign or a really bad one. You more of a stripes or solids guy, Francis?" He said, holding up two dress shirts.
Dialogue Color: Olivedrab

Francis Church

It was a tad concerning that their pilot seemed to have some sort of anxiety disorder but, hey, who was Francis to judge? He had his share of issues. They all probably did, come to think of it. That was likely why they'd all avoided being killed so far, despite having more than one opportunity. Bunch of odd little birds. At least the captain and her ward seemed relatively normal.

He'd clocked King for Military and hearing the Browncoat describe him as SpecOps made total sense and Francis kicked himself for not recognizing that sooner. But, then again, those guys were trained to avoid detection so maybe it was ok that Francis didn't see it. He had thought about mentioning it and that maybe if he hadn't injured his ass before the war he might have gone as far as Ops, but then remembered he had also failed the personality test to be anything but a grunt so maybe he better not mention it.

Charity was impressing Francis more and more. She had shown a real aptitude for leadership and calm under pressure, qualities Francis wasn't exactly accustomed to in a leader. He was glad, though, because they sure as hell were going to need it. Major Mitch was not a fun guy to deal with. Francis had hoped they could avoid him but it seemed the hand had been forced.

"Oh um... solids, I guess. Stripes make me look freakishly tall" He knelt down next to the trunk and began rifling through it and found some items that would sort of fit. A red smoking jacket with some dress slacks and a cravat, which he assumed Charity would know how to tie. It would do, he hoped, but it did smell weird and not just like smoke, as one might assume. He investigated further and found several bullet holes. He decided not to mention it.
Dialogue Color - MediumVioletRed

Jedikiah Rembo

February 27, 2023, 08:38:47 PM #109 Last Edit: March 03, 2023, 07:58:29 PM by Jedikiah Rembo
Home Team

Jedikiah started to react. There was a threat and he started to let the staff swing in his right hand. They were a motley couple in mish-mash of winter coat, scarf gloves and weapons. Youngish and reacting with unfocused malice. A malice of bearing and turning arms toward three of Odette.

Instinct said he didn't have time to wait for Cooper's reaction as to rather they should fight or flight back in to the ship. Or something else entirely. It would be possible to stop his intended first strike with the staff, but if he did not play offense the weapons would be on them. 'strike first'

Better to stop short than be caught short.

Unless Brown started to make some other play Jedikiah would swing the staff out and lunge forward much like a fencing strike. Target to be determined, hand or wrist with a weapon or direct to the forehead, with plenty of force to bring unconsciousness.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Cooper Brown

March 21, 2023, 05:05:02 PM #110 Last Edit: March 21, 2023, 05:08:24 PM by Cooper Brown
HOME TEAM

There was no decision-making process for Cooper. The former soldier's training and experience made the calculus more of a motor reflex. He pulled the pistol from his hip holster and disengaged the safety in one fluid motion. Aim for the head, pull the trigger, shift targets, rinse, and repeat. Well that was what he tried to do.

The stab wound from his last altercation had some words to say to him about trying to move like that. Unkind words. The mechanic's right shoulder locked up and he squeezed off a round too early, with the weapon aiming, at best, at his first opponent's leg.

"Fuckin' hell!"

Mr. Brown's right side was locked up in pain, and his next best instinct was to pull the hammer off his belt and just wing it at the next guy with his left arm. It was in this split moment that Cooper wondered what was waiting for him on the other side. His faith faltered.

noseatbelts

Home Team:

Jed and Cooper lashed out almost simultaneously, their instincts and reflexes similarly honed but in vastly different arenas. The Leather Hounds, we'll call them Leg and Head for reasons we'll get to in a moment, each received a helping of punishment that was doled out by Odette's defenders. Pele watched on from behind them, her hand going for the gun hidden in her bag.

The hammer flew with little effect, other than to force Head to flinch and receive a blow to her namesake. She fell backward, holding her wounded face and rolled in the snow.

Unfortunately for Leg, he took a pistol shot to the inner thigh, which sent him to the ground holding against a geyser of blood, turning the frosted ground red, steam rising into the air. This was bad.

Head turned to see her comrade bleeding out and, dropping her weapon, crawled across the ground to help stem the flow. "You've killed him! You gorram bastards have killed him!"



Away Team:

Once everyone was dressed, a quick tap on the door would reveal the waiting guard, waiting to take them to dinner. The sun was beginning to set.

Jedikiah Rembo

Jedikiah looked quickly in all directions. Cooper was hurt but for the moment he could fend for himself. Pele was behind them and their very green opposition was in turmoil.

"Pele." He said calmly. "Seal the ship please,"

Jed knelt then as he reached into his medical bag with an eye on the woman. She seemed no longer a threat. As he felt the dermal patch he pointed to the woman, "Quickly, that belt."

The dermal patch could slow the bleeding but the injury looked as though it was a femoral artery. Not good. He kept pressure on the dermal patch and the bleeding man's leg. If he was given the belt he made a quick tourniquet between the injury and the hip. Pulling tight, "Keep this tight if you want him to live."

Then stood back, offered his staff to Cooper.
A check to see if Pele had secured Odette, if so, "Call Medical."

As he waited for Cooper to gather himself or perhaps he would need to assist him:

He spoke to the token security someone had left to prevent their departure.
"Best leave the details sketchy or you will be the one's arrested. And find some other means to earn a living. This is not your vocation."

Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Cooper Brown

April 18, 2023, 07:49:46 PM #113 Last Edit: April 18, 2023, 08:02:04 PM by Cooper Brown
Cooper gladly accepted the staff when offered to him. He got himself upright and took a second to take a breath. He didn't want to be the bad guy, but they had precious few moments to act right now. Never mind shooting pain from his stab-wound, the Aussie accented veteran needed to power through.

"Mate, I think you're the closest we've got to medical 'round here we can rely on. If there's any emergency services we don't know bugger all about them. Will they call locals, ruttin' feds or more of whoever these folks are?"

Cooper rested his hand on his pistol, now at home in its holster, he eyed the female intruder and addressed his other crew-mate.

"Pele, you can try and contact emergency services if you want, but there's a non-zero chance our other friend here might need more medical attention in a minute."

Cooper stopped short of the woman who'd received a knock from his hammer, to retrieve the implement He couldn't consider debate right now. There was no clear chain of command, Mr. Brown was reverting to his training and experience from the war. Cooper Brown wanted answers.

"Miss, I don't know what's going to happen two minutes from now but what I can tell you will happen between now and then is one of two things. I'm going to ask you two questions. Then you will either answer my questions honestly and directly, or I am going to-"

He stopped mid-sentence, it was obvious where Cooper was going with this. But the way of the trail forbade violence against the defenseless, and prisoners.

"- We'll render aid as best we can but your friend is probably in trouble. If you failed to capture us, I imagine you're in trouble with whoever sent you. The two questions: Who in the name of bloody blue mǎ shǐ are you? And where is our gorram crew?"

The mechanic sheathed his hammer back onto its loop on his belt. Still leaning on the staff he waited for the woman he'd possibly just given a brain injury to reply. 

Pele Kesher

Pele wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when Cooper gave her permission to scavenge a winter outfit from Charity's wardrobe (technically not his permission to give, but desperate measures and so forth). On one hand, having no weather appropriate clothing had seemed like a good excuse to skip the outing. On the other hand, if she absolutely had to go wading through the snow, at least she'd be doing in style. Charity's clothes didn't fit her perfectly -- the shoes in particular were a size too large, somewhat to her smug satisfaction -- and they were frillier than what she would have preferred, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Is that what I am now? A beggar?

Pele didn't have enough time to sink into a full-blown existential crisis, because the gunfight Cooper had foreseen in their future was waiting closer than any of them had expected; right outside their door. While one of her gloved hands went directly for the gun she'd stashed in her purse, having wised up from the leg strap incident, her feet instinctively led her behind Cooper, and by the time she'd drawn her weapon, her crew mates had already neutralized the threat.

"Pele," Jed instructed her, calmly taking control of the situation. "Seal the ship please."

Pele did as she was told. She was still gripping her pistol -- her useless, unfired pistol -- in one hand as she punched the keys to the locking mechanism. Her chest tightened.

There you go again, hiding behind the big strong men. Letting them take the lead. Good girl. Cecil would be proud.

She returned to the scene of the carnage just in time to receive her next set of orders.

"Call Medical."

Pele had meant to spare the old man from her sass, but she couldn't stop herself from scoffing at the request.

"What medical?" She looked around, taking in the snowy, barren landscape.

"Mate, I think you're the closest we've got to medical 'round here we can rely on." Cooper chimed in. "If there's any emergency services we don't know bugger all about them. Will they call locals, ruttin' feds or more of whoever these folks are? Pele, you can try and contact emergency services if you want, but there's a non-zero chance our other friend here might need more medical attention in a minute."

Cooper had a point. Pele hated that he had a point, and that she agreed with it -- even if they weren't in the middle of nowhere, did they really want to get the local authorities involved? She'd have to side with the mechanic on this one, quite literally; as Cooper begun his interrogation, she hovered next to him, looking down at the bloodied woman lying in the snow.

"Who in the name of bloody blue mǎ shǐ are you? And where is our gorram crew?"

She realized she was still gripping the pistol in her one hand. She pointed it at the ground, an unspoken threat in case their assailant-turned-hostage decided to lie -- and Pele was pretty sure she'd be able to tell if she did. She didn't seem like a hardened career criminal, just a kid in over her head.

Jedikiah Rembo

May 09, 2023, 03:30:21 PM #115 Last Edit: May 09, 2023, 03:33:45 PM by Jedikiah Rembo
Jedikiah nodded in affirmation of the logic of his crew mates.

He dragged the injured man around and under the ramp, opened his med kit and quickly applied a dermal patch. Amazing they were, doubtful it would be enough. His eye went to their ship. . take them on board? leave them? guard them? No. This was the harsh realities of the raggedly edge of the black.

There, and thus his duty, was to their crew. Like it not, he was not responsible for every fool decision made where snowy woods fill up with snow.

Dr. Rembo gave aid as he also checked pockets for weapons, comms, and any clue to their crew.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Velocity Grey-Lambert

Finding something for Velocity that was long enough not to look ridiculous, and which covered her leathers, no amount of persuasion would get her to relinquish those, was a challenge. It was not helped by the high neckline of the leathers. Almost at the bottom of the chest they found a red blouse that had a neckline that was even higher than the leathers, and a black, pleated skirt, that was long enough to reach almost to the floor, though of course both were otherwise far too big. Footwear was also problem; there was nothing at all suitable so she had to stick with her boots, though fortunately these were mostly hidden by the skirt. Some silver earrings, a black knitted shrug, and an ornamental belt completed the ensemble.

It was never going to look good, with her extreme vertical exaggeration she needed tailored clothing but hopefully it would be enough to satisfy their hosts. 'Or is that captors?' she wondered unhappily.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said to Charity, big round eyes looking at Charity . "I should have stayed on the ship."

Player: Clare
Characters: Beth

Charity

Away Team

With the crew dressed properly, if it could be called that, Charity took a quick moment to look them over and make any necessary corrections. She paused in front of Francis, contained a grimace, and set to gently tying the cravat. Her gaze lifted from her work to scan slowly over the man's face. Charity sighed softly and lowered her hands from his neck.

"I'd like your advice," she told him simply. "You know these people far more than I ever will. Is there anything I should know? Any specific little quirks I need to play to?" she continued, raising her brows.

Giving him space to think and respond, the Captain moved away from him to inspect King. She only needed to readjust and tuck in a few things before he looked presentable. He'd done most of himself.

Next was Velocity. She tucked in the excess fabric at the back of the shirt a bit, "Your ducktail is out," she murmured warmly, repeating something her mother had said to her when she'd been young. She smiled, adjusting the waistband to make sure it was seated nicely on the taller woman's waist. Finally, Charity returned to the pilot's front and looked her over slowly. The Captain nodded, then took the silver brooch off her own bodice to pin the other woman's shrug shut. "You look lovely," she complimented, then raised a hand to cut off her apology as gently as possible.

"Don't apologize, love, I'm glad you came with us," she assured the pilot. Then, she held up a finger and leaned a little closer. "Do me a favor?" she asked, brows raised. "Keep your eye out for their ships. I'd like you to keep track of how many are visible, what kind they are, and if you know, what their capabilities are. And, if any of them seem ready to take off or anything silly like that. Even if the detail is small, I want you to keep note of it. I don't want to be blind sided," she asked. The request, while strange, was genuine. She wasn't sure how it would effect their meeting, or their safety, but it was both a real concern of hers and a way for her to help Velocity keep her mind occupied.

With that, she made her way to the door, pausing before knocking to let everyone finish speaking before she gently rapped her knuckles against the surface.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

noseatbelts

Home team

Tears stinging her eyes, Head allowed Jed to disarm and search her and her friend as she held tight to the tourniquet. "Capture you? We were just guarding the ship! We didn't even know you were in there!" Snot bubbled out of her nose as the tears continued. "Please don't kill us. We were just following orders, man."

Leg moaned from the ground; painful, sad.

"Tommy! Tommy! It's Beth, you're going to be okay. There's a doctor here." Her big brown eyes implored at Jed. "Please don't let him die. I'll tell you whatever you want." She turned to Cooper. "We-we're Browncoats. L-leather Hounds. W-we thought you all w-went to the camp. Sergeant James just told us to guard the ship, m-make sure it didn't go nowhere. I swear."

Away Team

Francis squirmed at the question posed to him from the Captain. He had tried to warn her. "Um... well... It's not great, Captain. I don't want to worry anybody but Major Mitch is like, crazy, man. You ever take Earth-That-Was History in school? There was this guy, a general, named Napoleon. He almost took over the whole world, basically. He was known for being like this tactical genius, but also a little crazy. Well, Mitch isn't a genius. He's just crazy." So much for sugar coating it. Francis pulled on his cravat, suddenly feeling warm. "We just gotta get through this dinner. Hopefully nobody rubs him the wrong way."

Once summoned, the soldiers were quick to open the door and usher everyone out.

Charity and co. were led through the camp and to the big building in the center where Sergeant James was waiting to lead them in. "The Major will see you now. But you have to wait to enter after you've been introduced." James seemed annoyed by this, but accommodating, as one would with a child. Information was fed for each member of the away crew and they were led to what appeared to be a poorly decorated dining room, as if someone tried to make something look fancy, but lacked the resources to do it properly. The chairs and place settings were mismatched and the paintings on the wall were rudimentary at best. It was candlelit, which only made everything look spooky rather than elegant.

Various soldiers in ramshackle military dress stood at attention around the table and, overlooking everyone from a sort of catwalk above, was a figure draped in shadow watching everything.

Sergeant James took his position and announced each guest in turn. "Lady Charity, Captain of the Odette. Mister King, bodyguard. Mr. Francis, servant. Lady Velocity, pilot." Everyone was guided to a seat around the table, a costumed soldier in between each of them. Each place setting had a cloche covering their plate, hiding whatever their meal might be.

After a few moments of awkward silence, a gong sounded from somewhere, though was nowhere to be seen. A fanfare from a single trumpet also pierced the silence, preceding an announcement on a crackly speaker. If one looked closely, you could see it was the shadowy figure speaking. "Ladies ladies ladies and Gentlemen gentlemen gentlemen..." It said, badly imitating an echo. "Welcome. It is your privilege and pleasure to dine with... The Major!" A worklight blared to life, bathing a man in a garish, military uniform and large bicorn hat. He waited for applause.

Cooper Brown

June 05, 2023, 07:23:24 PM #119 Last Edit: June 05, 2023, 08:25:45 PM by HumanHyperbole
Home team

Cooper's demeanor shifted with the prisoner's increasingly miserable state. He'd gone from furious, to annoyed, to concerned.

"Capture you? We were just guarding the ship! We didn't even know you were in there!"

"Guarding an occupied ship is bound to invite trouble young lady... what bloody morons sent you?"

"Please don't kill us. We were just following orders, man."

"Most people I've killed were following orders, it's the way of things. But I'm not - "

Cooper remembered he had every intention of killing these two moments ago. Hell, he was close to using his hammer to extract the answers that were flowing freely. He didn't like this part of himself. He started to get up and walk away for a second, seemingly just needing a moment to think. Beth beckoned to her bleeding-out friend. Their names were only making it harder.


"We-we're Browncoats. L-leather Hounds. W-we thought you all w-went to the camp. Sergeant James just told us to guard the ship, m-make sure it didn't go nowhere. I swear."

Then he snapped around and he shot right back to within inches of Beth's face.  Grabbing her by the scruff of her shirt.  Mr Brown was angry again.

"Don't say those words around me lightly!"

His eyes went dark again. Cooper Brown had destroyed his entire life to fight for the cause of the Independent Planets. He discarded his family, his home, and his salvation to wear that brown coat.

"Where is Seargeant James and who is his gorram commanding officer?! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing calling yourselves Browncoats? My crew is bloody gone and they sent you to 'guard' a ship full of martial artists, pissed-off real Browncoats, and a well-dressed young woman who probably could have taken you both? How does this dismantle the Grand Anglo Sino Alliance? Eh?! LOOK AT YOU!"

The Aussie-accented veteran pointed at her dying friend.

He got up, adrenaline fully muting the pain in his back, he stood back up and let go of Beth. He backed up several paces, nearly tripping over the borrowed cane he forgot he was even using, and dropped somewhere in his anger haze. The former Browncoat was breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell noticeably as if he was about to start sprinting or hold his breath. Training, trauma, or a mix of both had his fight or flight responses going full tilt.

Cooper Brown fought the war and wore his brown coat longer than most. He'd tried to bury every ounce of the person that war turned him into. But life kept trying to claw that monster out of him. Before, to calm down he'd start downing a bottle of cheap whiskey. There wasn't any close by and his years-long sobriety had been hard won.

He settled for screaming.

"FUCK!"

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