| Meetup.Leonis.Com |
| Summary: | The Anadyomene and MolGen groups are reunited at last. |
| Date: | 2041.05.24 |
| Related Logs: | All Leonis logs. |
| Players: |
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| Hyperion Square - Leonis |
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| At the very center of Kythera is Hyperion Square. Linking Prospect Avenue to the Boulevard of the Confederation, this monumental space is rimmed by twelve flagpoles bearing the colors of each Colony and crowned in the center by a towering column of the finest Aquarian marble. Of that remarkable vista just postcard reproductions are left, for today only tattered flags and half the column remains. The statue of Hermes that once stood atop its capital has made a magnificent web of cracks in the concrete where it landed, gold leaf peeling to reveal the base cooper underneath. A smattering of "authentic pubs" and tour buses lie in ruins near each of the square's four traffic circles, dwarfed no longer by the fallen skyscrapers to the south. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #87 |
It's been a long, hard march for the group, with several stops for rest and, well, smoking for the crew. Hal is one of the stragglers who has made it first to the exit sign that reads, 'HYPERION SQUARE' in white letters on a familiar green background. Otis the Police Dog has been trailing behind, along with the pack themselves. "So. This gets us further in the city. What do you think, Lieutenant?" He glances back at Kulko warily as he begins to ascend the stairs. "No idea what we'll find. But last time we swept this area, it was clear."
"An' the last time the toasters swept it, it was clear. Far as we know, we're both wrong," Kulko answers darkly, following along. He drops the end of a cigarette and grinds it out under his boot. "But we sure ain't stayin in the tunnels forever. Let's go."
Bannik isn't exactly a shooter, and so he's not much of one to be at the front of the pack. But he keeps himself in that firm middle between the shooters and the leaders, keeping an eye out for — well. Odd stuff.
Lasher's cigarette is stale, but it's a higher quality brand than the cheap Picon smokes ubiquitous on Cerberus. Tradeoffs, tradeoffs. It dangles freely from his lips, bobbing as he treads up the stares with his rifle in both hands. He is up near the front of the group, a couple steps behind Hal and Kulko, remaining quietly vigilant for the moment.
Tisiphone's one of those bringing up the rear of the group, more out of lack of speed than any actual desire to be tailguard. She hasn't had a lot of her usual get-up-and-go the past few days, and while any good Saggie has bountiful reserves of stubbornness to draw on, they're not quite boundless. She trudges along, bent forward a little under her pack, exertion and sweat brightening the sunburns across her cheeks.
Outside the confines of a Raptor, Trask isn't much of a shooter either. Even so, he has a rifle and he's ready to use it. Croke is his buddy in the buddy system, and the pair keeps up pace and on the look-out.
"That's all I needed to hear. C'mon. Up the stairs. Quiet-like." Hal reiterates, as he unslings his SMG, clutching it along with his flashlight as he ascends the staircase with light, ginger footsteps. "So, where to from here? I still need to get back to my people. Unfortunately there's a perimeter up north which, let's just say that's suicide to blow through."
"Wherever we are, we need a nearby LZ in case the cavalry comes. And I'd like to find a tall building, see if we can't ping the other team on the wireless now that we've crossed the river." Kulko plods up the stairs, rifle readied and checking the safety. "Maybe we can get on the horn with your folks as well."
Bannik moves up the stairs — he's good at following orders like that — and keeps his lookout. "You all right, sir?" he asks Tisiphone, trying to give her the best encouraging smile he can muster.
Can one trudge quiet-like? Tisiphone does her best. She pauses at the top of the stairs to put her helmet back on — no point in wearing it all the way through the tunnels, or so she figured — and look over at Bannik. The gear's still a little too big, and rattles slightly at the motion. Playing at soldiers is comical, sometimes. "Yeah. I'm fine, Tyr. Just beat." And she looks it. "How you holding up?"
"The horn. Nah. We don't have any comm devices that work. Electromagnetic radiation blew out what we could find. At least, that is what it /seems/ like." Hal ascends into the cavernous maw of the Hyperion Square train station after a long climb, revealing, among other things, a semi-wrecked but still standing building. The occasional bullet-ridden body lies forgotten, decomposing on the rubble. Some of the kills seem fresh. Maybe a few days old. They /really/ smell. "Ugh." He coughs. "Listen, uh, my people are underground. I haven't told you exactly where they are. Ms. Shootintheback really wanted to know but we've been kind of tight-lipped. So yeah, they're literally in a safe bolthole. Underground. I'll tell you more if you want, but," he addresses one grim reality. Nobody is sure who they can trust.
"Careful. More you use the thing, better chance the Cylons have of locking onto the signal," Lasher mumbles to Kulko beside him. "Would rather not try to ring up every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the greater Kythera area if we don't have to." A look to Hal. "You're the one that knows where the bleedin' frak we're going," he reminds the man with a furrowed brow. "Don't care about the path so long as it doesn't end in grisly death." The last is muttered. Laskaris stops midstride, looking around. "Came from the east, the north is no joy. Looks like our choices are south or west." Moar eyeballing of the urban horizon, then a pointed look to Hal. "You're takin' us there anyway, aren't you? Seems risky enough already, if that's what you're worryin' over." A snort. "We can't all be those frakkin' replicants, you know." Law of averages, or something.
Kulko pauses a moment as they enter the massive foyer, glancing back at the group. "Lasher's right. We been on the run since we set foot on this godsdamned world. Don't know how deep your paranoia runs, but we all got one goal here. Lead on, and steer clear of the clankers." He looks aside to Laskaris with a nod. "It's the truth, but long as we keep the call short and bug out from the rooftop lickety split, they don't find nothin'. Worked before," he says at least.
"Yes I'm taking you there, anyway. But I'm making the assumption that if one of you's going to shoot up my people I'd rather be there when it happens. Not before. I'm not sure there's a rhyme or reason to what they are doing that we can understand." Hal says, covering his face with an open hand and his voice muffled. "You have any idea where your people are? More's better, honestly. If they're still alive, it will give us an advantage. Y'know. Numbers." While still furtively glancing around, he makes a beeline for the exit. The massive double door to the station still seems intact. "Opening this thing. Just take cover and —" Boom. The door is opened. Quiet-like. While there are other signs of devestation, looted storefronts, smashed windows, the building lies clear. "As I said, Got someone up with us who may know something about a better way off this rock. It was all about manpower."
"Do it the same as we did it last time." This from Tisiphone, as she moves forward. She coughs a couple times, clears her throat, then continues: "Send a couple up to top of the building. Everyone else waits below. Book it soon as they're back down. It's not like we can wander the frakking streets just hoping we find the one Lieutenant Oberlin's on."
"I'm doing all right. The armor is heavy, the pack is heavy, and I'm not used to wearing the armor, but I'm alive and I'm still helping. All I can pray for." It's like a mantra for Bannik-the-Deckie. He glances down at the bodies here, shaking his head slightly. "Gods."
"It always works, until the last time," Lasher reminds Kulko quietly, but nods. Hal gets a shake of the head. "Don't think we have any specifics, no. Contact's been sporadic." He looks to Kulko for confirmation; then Tisiphone pipes up, and slate-colored eyes shoot A Look back towards the fuzzy-scalped Ensign. "And to think. I was so looking forward to a stroll," he remarks acidly. He's not quite able to keep that condescending look of 'well, duh' off his face as he looks to the ensign. His cigarette finished, it's tossed down to the ground and stamped out.
"Nonesense. Just follow the sound of deadpan echoing amongst the rubble. It'll echo a /lot/ 'cuz Cal is one verbose frakker." That would be Trask — Kal with a 'K' — offering that dry observation.
It's a running theme, these past few weeks. Tisiphone speaks up. Lasher puts her down. Tisiphone shuts her trap, looking like she's trying to strangle the Captain with her mind the entire time. There are no changeups in the theme tonight — that same narrow-eyed, black and resentful stare is stabbed at Lasher before she abruptly forces her gaze elsewhere, then turns the rest of her body to stalk off a few paces.
"Yeah?" Kulko queries of the agent. "Gonna dig a hole to the other side?" A little sarcasm from the JTAC, no less. "Soon as we find somethin' tall enough, we'll send off a quick burst and see if it gets picked up."
The various others are piling in on behind, the team's well-trained police dog padding at the rear, seeming content to be around humans who are still living and breathing. Meanwhile, Hal appears quite willfully oblivious to any dissent between the Cerberus' grounded aircrew. "Just do what you've got to do. I'll stay and cover." He makes it out into the still expanse of Hyperion Square. Ahh, sweet, fresh, irradiated air. He takes a breath.
Bannik moves slightly closer to Tisiphone at the exchange between Tisiphone and Lasher, perhaps a subtle show of support or defense of the Ensign. He makes eye contact with her, trying his best to be reassuring. And he listens to the chatter up front.
Lasher doesn't shrink from the stare, following Tisiphone's eyes with his own until the young woman looks away. The unyielding gaze shifts to Bannik for a moment before he turns away himself Muttering something under his breath, he turns his gaze once again to the surrounding buildings. "What're you thinkin', LT?"
Doing what they have to do seems to involve waiting — at least for Tisiphone's part of it. She stays where she is, arms folded tightly across her chest, and stares off away from the group toward the shattered skyline to the south. There's a brief sidelong glance to Bannik and what might be a nod before she goes back to her woolgathering.
Kulko looks about the square, shielding his eyes against the harsh Leonis sun. "I'm thinkin' I'mma take a spotter up high and try my luck. Y'all head away a couple blocks and we'll catch up." He takes a knee, and starts digging around in his pack to ensure the transmitter is close to the top. "If we're gonna give away our position, might as well give away the closest position to where we came out."
"Just let me know where you need me," Lunair offers quietly. She looks around. For her part, the JiG has been a bit withdrawn, thoughtful and watching.
Bootstrap stands guard, his demeanor severe.
"You need me up, sir?" Bannik asks Kulko, the Deckhand speaking up. "If there are some wireless issues or something —" Well. Viper and Raptor comms are under Avionics. How much different can it be?
Tisiphone's mouth twists and twitches as some comment or another keeps bouncing off the inside of her mouth and falling back unsaid. Finally, she unfolds her arms and gives them a brisk shake before repositioning her rifle. Thumbs hooked in her packstraps, she looks back to the group, expectant.
"Let's make it happen," Kulko answers Bannik's way with a nod. "Not sure I wired the damn thing up right when we took down the VLF array anyway." To Hal and Lasher, "Get a move on. Head west, for now; stop after five minutes. We ain't back in an hour, keep goin'." He rises and slings the pack over his shoulder.
"Got it." Hal says, cheerily. He waves a hand at Otis. "Stay." The dog looks a bit heartbroken but manages to do so. "With the others." Slinging his SMG, he shrugs at Lasher. "Time to go for a walk then, I guess?"
Given the order to move with Kulko, Bannik does so, shifting in his bulky and unfamiliar black armor. He doesn't have his sidearm so much at the ready, but he nods to the officer. "On you, sir."
"Right." Lasher nods, then meets Hal's gaze, throwing an exaggerated arm gesture in a westerly direction. "Lay on." His rifle is carried in a somewhat relaxed grip, though his eyes are as watchful as ever. He starts off towards the west, looking back to the group. "Let's go."
Tisiphone's eyes flick to Bannik, then Kulko, before she turns to follow Hal and Lasher deeper westwards into the city. Operation Trudge: recommencing.
Kulko heads for the tallest nearby building, rifle at the ready and clearing doorways hastily, but carefully. He heads for an undamaged stairway and begins the ascent. If there was more food around, the team might actually come back from Leonis in better shape than they left.
Hopefully Lunair left her bullet attracting mascara at home this time. Maybelline: Maybe she's born with it. Maybe she's a frakking Cylon. She nods and walks with the group, keeping pace. She looks lost in thought, considering Kulko and Bannik a moment before following.
Before departing, Trask extends his hand to Otis. "See ya later, boy. I'll save you some jerky." After a vaguely awkward pat on the dog's head, the ECO follows the rest of his party.
So far, so good. There's nothing going on around here. No indication of life. Human or otherwise. Otis wags his tail a little at Trask. Apparently the two have made friends. Or at least, Trask has managed to bribe his way into the dog's good graces. Food and love go hand-in-hand. Hal turns back as the others move on. "Here goes."
Bannik takes out his sidearm from his side, but he is no trained room sweeper. Instead, he makes his way awkwardly after the Junior Tactical Officer, moving towards the building and up the stairs. No cylons. No cylons. No cylons.
Lasher is a little more cautious once the group is moving again, bringing his rifle up to a ready position as he and the rest of the Fleet people follow Hal off to the west.
Tisiphone keeps one hand on her rifle, but doesn't raise it to her shoulder. Her steps meander a little — her attention is out and up at the destroyed buildings and the wreckage strewn beneath them.
Kulko pauses at the door to the roof, twenty stories above the plaza. "Alright. Ready? We're up here for no more than three minutes. Anything goes wrong, if you can't fix it straight away, we relocate."
Tptptp. Lunair's trying to walk quietly, looking here and there. She quietly hopes for Cylon B Gone or a Cylon Zapper or something. She takes a deep breath and shuffles on. She'll smile politely at the pup once they go. Aw. The buildings seem like something out of a strange dream or a nightmare brought on by anxiety and bad food. It's not real and she'll wake up at home with hair.
"You got it, sir," promises Bannik, pausing as well at the door. "Three minutes and we go before the Toasters show up."
Kulko socks the Deckie in the shoulder, grins like a madman, and opens the door, hurrying in a crouch to the parapet, where he takes cover and unshoulders his pack. "Godsdamnit, Calvin, you better still be breathin'."
Hal's footsteps are as light as can be across the ruined pavement as he hauls ass with the others.
Five minutes isn't too far to walk. At the end of their Safe Recommended Distance, Tisiphone immediately slouches a shoulder into the nearest bit of crumbled wall and digs for her cigarettes, attention down on her scuffed and scarred boot-toes.
"Ow." Bannik reacts more out of instinct than actual pain. "What's that? Beat up the Deckie for good luck? That's my radio fixing shoulder." But grumbling aside, he darts for the roof, kneeling by the officer and keeping his sidearm handy.
Kulko withdraws the handset from the transmitter, and extends the meter-long antenna. "Everything look squared away?"
Bannik shrugs his shoulders. "Looks good so far. Not going to know until we fire it up." He keeps one eye on the wireless, one on the area around them. No cylons. No cylons. No cylons.
[Into the Wireless] Kulko sighs. "Here goes. Eidolon Alpha, Eidolon Bravo on Tac three. Copy?"
[TAC3] (from Oberlin) There's a pause as Oberlin places the transmitter to his ear. "Eidolon Bravo, Eidolon Alpha. Copy. Where the /hell/ are you?"
Five minutes of walking takes the group just out of the square. Lasher stops, pursing his lips and looking about for a moment before he starts pacing in the shadow of a tattered building. Watching, waiting.
[Into the Wireless] Kulko says, "Had to move, but we made it across the river. Gotta link up afore our ride gets here, or Papa Tillman'll have our hides. What's your status?"
[TAC3] Oberlin sighs, "That's good. We've found some temporary digs. And a few friends. Um, status is mobile. Repeat, status is mobile. We're towards the center. Was thinking I was missing Saggitaron. We are applying for visa renewal. Repeat. Visa renewal. Code 24 - Constellation Romeo, over."
Bannik clenches his fist into a ball when the comms work. Score. Contact made. Subtle, non-Cylon attracting fist-pump for the win.
Kulko lets a grin creep over his face, looking to Bannik and clearly matching his enthusiasm.
[Into the Wireless] Kulko says, "Copy. Sit tight, we're on our way. Best have supper waitin' when I come home."
Bannik looks over at Kulko, though, puzzled. "What in the world is 'visa renewal'? And Code 24?" Not in the Deckie handbook.
Every few seconds, Lasher stops in the middle of his pacing, directing an eye towards the building Kulko and Bannik headed for. Then, a wary look to the skies. "C'mon, Kulko, godsdamnit, get through…" he whispers softly after a minute or two. A brisk shake of the head, and he's pulling out another cigarette.
Fretfret. Lunair is looking a little worried despite the normally quietly solemn bearing she carries. She hunches her shoulders as she waits with the others.
[TAC3] Oberlin clicks off the receiver one more time. "Copy that. Eyes will be out. Alpha out. And..damn it, no complications, please?"
[Into the Wireless] Kulko says, "Do my level best. Bravo out."
Kulko hurriedly starts to pack the receiver away. "Means they're holed up somewhere they feel safe enough sleeping, and it's somewhere in sector 24-CR. Need a minute with a map, but I've got a good notion. Come on, let's move." With that, he's off for the staircase, and at a hustle.
A cigarette would be nice right now. Trask, however, instead opts to treat his tastebuds to a magnificent mint. He's not about to waste a smoke with a hasty need for discard.
Bannik hustles down after the Bravo CO, grinning broadly as he returns to the group with him. "We've got contact," he says excitedly, making eye contact with Tisiphone in particular. "We've got where to meet up."
Laskaris has no such worries, apparently, as he puffs away. Happy as a clam he's not, but the nicotine makes the waiting bearable enough. He looks almost relieved as the pair of them emerge from the building, snapping off an "On your feet" to any reclining members of the group as Kulko and Bannik come into view. "Where to?"
"Well. Guess our luck hasn't gone to shit." Hal laughs a single, clipped laugh as the good news comes his way. "Which way?" Gesturing for the large dog to get into gear as well. Otis comes running.
Lunair is largely in the background. She watches the group, considering the dog a moment once Otis comes running. She freezes a moment. Still not used to a puppy that big. Still, it makes her smile.
"Well, sort of. Gimme a minute." Kulko takes a knee again, half to catch his breath, and half to dig out one of the laminated, gridded maps he's been toting around. "Two four… constellation romeo… Sagittaron…" Brows draw together. "Passports. He's got to mean the Embassy." A finger stabs at the intersection of two grid lines. "We're headed this way. Sagittaran Embassy. Quick and quiet."
Lunair is largely in the background. She watches the group, considering the dog a moment once Otis comes running. She freezes a moment. Still not used to a puppy that big. Still, it makes her smile.
Samuel keeps silent for the moment, checking his equipment. Once he hears about their destination, he nods a bit, getting ready to move.
| Sagittaron House - Leonis |
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| Sagittaron House must have once been a glorious place. Grounds that were once expansive and lush with vegetation in the forms of planned gardens, walking paths, and sitting areas are now dead and barren; trees devoid of leaves, bark charred, grass dead and brown. A 10-foot tall wrought iron fence with spiked tops and thick brownstone joiners every 20 feet surrounds the consulate and the grounds. In several places the bars, normally 8-10 inches apart, have been separated enough for a person to slip through sideways. The building itself was at one point a brownstone beauty — three stories tall (that can be seen), floor-to-ceiling windows in some of the first floor dining and siting rooms, classical styling with high columns and wide volutes. The roof is currently in a state of disrepair, collapsed into the top floor along one entire side of the building. All of the windows are smashed and broken, only a few retaining the curtains inside which flap in the breeze. Inside, furniture has been broken down, stripped of wooden legs and arms. Only a few cushions remain, and those are shredded and dirty. The libraries of the building have been ransacked and stripped down for fuel materials. Those wooden panels, marble tiles, statues, and paintings that weren't initially looted are damaged beyond repair. The expansive kitchens have long been stripped for any vestiges of food — fresh, canned, preserved, or otherwise. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #87 |
Some time has passed since that fateful Wireless transmission, and there is coverage of the grounds in front of the main wing of the Sagittaron Embassy both from within and without. Several people with guns, in addition to the recognized Colonials, including an older gentleman with a white beard wielding a shotgun are watching the area like proverbial hawks. The ones other than Barron look generally, well, tough, rough, and thuggish, all wearing green armbands. The building is pretty much as you'd expect. Torn up a little, but remarkably posh for the way this part of town has been looking these days.
Meanwhile, the battered team members of Eidolon Bravo, harrowed by their struggles making it here , come piling up. In addition to all the familiar faces, there can be seen a shaved-headed, dark-skinned, wiry man toting a submachine gun with a pistol tucked in his belt and a satchel over his shoulder. He's wearing a button-down khaki shirt and black jeans, and is running like hell. With him is a large…dog? The dog looks bedraggled and dirty but not starving to death. Looks like someone's been taking what care of him they can. The dog is an Aerilonian Wolfhound (on Earth, they look like "Irish Wolfhounds," because the narrator is lazy) and this breed is known as an excellent working breed. Often used as a service dog. This looks like the case.
Oberlin doesn't look like he's been having a great time. He's got his pistol out and his arm in a sling, as the group approaches, he waves a hand in the air. "Contact!" He calls out. "Friendlies!"
Note - the hand with the pistol.
Crowds. Not Lunair's thing. But she does have to smile, glad to see those she knows and even some new faces. She'll smile and wave politely too. That dog still spooks her a bit, but hey. What cha gonna do? "Friendlies," She replies gently, but firmly enough to be heard. She'd rather not find out that friendly fire is still fire. And fire burnses us. "It's good to see you."
"Godsdamned right we are," Kulko shouts back with unabashed enthusiasm. He continues to march ahead at the front of the group, adjusting his rifle and pack as their destination is sighted. "Calvin! You look like shit!"
Sawyer is standing with a weary smile, watching the group approach. Her face is dirty, her hair is falling out of its pony tail (long ago having lost her helmet some where along the way), and a rifle is resting on her shoulder. It seems like a decade ago that she was in suits and heels and gracing the halls of the Cerberus. "About damn time." The Reporter says dryly to the incoming group, shifting uncomfortably on sore feet but otherwise she doesn't seem much worse for the wear.
Stavrian is on the other side of the 'street', or what's left of it, outside the house. As eager to prevent any cylons from following the group home as he is to see their dirty little faces. His rifle's trained over the area he's watching, the corners of his eyes barely untensing as… yes, that's a voice. And it seems to know Oberlin. Holy shit.
Trudge, trudge. Tisiphone's somewhere in the middle of the group, her too-big helmet jostling on her head with each step. At least they've brought housewarming gifts, by the looks of it — several of them seem rather burdened by their packs. As those in front of her start slowing and altering their paths, she straightens and hooks her thumbs in her packstraps, finally lifting her eyes from the cracked pavement.
"Penny! Hey! Penny!" It seems like everyone has a favorite on the opposite team and Bannik has chosen Penelope as his. While he's in the heavy armor, he hustles over towards her with a bright smile. "Thank the Gods!"
Laskaris tenses as the group approaches the Sagittaron embassy, but relaxes a bit as he catches sight of known friendlies. He's near but not at the front of the group; his face and hair are dirtied by a mix of blood and grime, and he's long since traded in his tattered uniform blouse for a black t-shirt with a rather bright logo of an old Taurian metal band plastered on the front. A long sigh escapes his lips as Bravo nears the gate. Lasher doesn't relax completely, though; he's not sure he likes the looks of those green-armbanded chaps. No favorites for him; instead of running off to greet someone with happy delirium, he finds himself eyeballing the surly sorts with the armbands.
Samuel makes his way in with the incoming group, looking around for a few moments now. Looking back often, to make sure they aren't being followed. Some sound can be heard from him, very quietly, though. "Together again, just me and you. No more away games, just us two…" It's hummed under his breath, as he turns to watch the others for a few moments.
Left arm well-bandaged and left foot hobbled by a makeshift splint, Penelope's among those who've seen better days — but hearing her name called brightens her aspect, and the sight of the crewman hurrying toward her brings a broad, delighted grin to her face. She limps to meet Bannik, casting aside the length of pvc pipe she's been using as an ersatz walking stick in order to give the young man a one-armed, but warm, hug. "Bannik!" she laughs, the sound an outpouring of emotion. "Thank the gods, indeed."
"Sweet merciful frak, you all are alive!" Haeleah crows, bustling up to meet Team Bravo. Beaming. She looks as welcoming as one can look if they haven't seen a bath or a proper hairbrushing in… far, far too long. "Bannik! Finally. Someone who can build us a way off this damn planet." It's only half a joke. She jogs forward to clap him on the shoulder. She's not quite as huggy as Penelope, but she's in a sentimental sort of mood. People who aren't dead!
For those whose attention goes to Trask, there are two things of particular note: (1) he is now sporting a rather becoming beard, and (2) he is sans Quinn. This latter point might account for his uncharacteristic brooding. Upon entering, the thugs are the first to meet his line-of-sight. Still grim, he tilts his chin in a 'sup?' fashion, adopting the mile long stare typical of Black Country folk and their rough-and-tumble ways. Passing that armored entourage, Oberlin is the next one seen. "Shit, Cal. I seriously hope that's not your wanking arm."
Bannik gives Penelope a warm, but ginger, hug, considering her condition. "What's this you've got going on here?" he jokes, gesturing to her wounded state. "Just like you Engineering officers, always coming up with ways for the Deck enlisted to have to do all the work."
Oh boy! Oberlin! Alas, the CIC fangirl is at it again. She smiles at him, though she looks briefly concerned. "Hello, sir," she greets him warmly. At least poor Kulko gets a respite? Indeed. The Marine officer is content to mingle, her headwound mercifully healed. Her hair - hair … still non-existent, but she's healed. Hooray! She smiles at Trask weakly, though she's sympathetic. Maybe she's caught on that the two are good friends? Perhaps. She mingles quietly, more withdrawn than usual. Oh Lunair.
Stavrian draws in a slow breath and exhales it, lowering the rifle as happy reunions commence. There's nobody from his department to be chummy with, and the medic's quiet as the noise level increases around him. A hand gently rubs the side of his neck, and his blue eyes search the faces.
The old, stately, bearded man steps down from the stairs in front of the estate, lowering his shotgun. "Well. Thickening the ranks, then?" He adopts a calm, closed-mouth smile. "Good. I take it you all have some catching up to do. Butcher, Helios, just provide some cover but the rest, feel free to stand down." With that, he says this to the large, scary-looking man covered in Tauron and CMC tattoos and the lanky mop-haired woman who both wear green armbands in his entourage. The rest of them disperse and slowly fall back into the estate. They're still watching, though. Catching Trask's gaze, the large man merely nods at the ECO.
Meanwhile, the man with the dog, Hal, slows his pace to a crawl and lowers his gun. The large dog wags his tail a couple of times but remains alert as he gauges the interactions between his recently-acquired human friends and all the new people at the state. Being a dog's a lot of work. "Looks like you found your people, Lieutenant!" He says, catching his breath. He seems content for the time being, and looks through Barron's men, narrowing his eyes on a couple. "Huh."
Lasher has his metal shirt — Sitka's around here somewhere in his garishly orange shirt — and Tisiphone's wearing something short-sleeved and screamingly hot pink. Only a few bits of it peek out from beneath her borrowed Marine armour, though. Seems they stole themselves some clean clothes, somewhere along the way. Her olive-drab shirt is tied off on her pack, and there's sunburn across her arms and cheeks. Pale skin vs. Leonis summer — flawless victory to Leonis. The more the conversations start to overlap, the further away from the group Tisiphone edges before pulling her helmet off and mopping at her face with the red bandana tied across her scalp.
"This is what happens when you take a shot from a Cylon Autocannon and a godsdamned frakking /wall/ falls on you, all right?" Oberlin calls out towards Kulko, indignant and a little incensed. And oh, he's smirking. "Have a heart. Or did Tillman surgically replace it with a slab of meat when you made Lieutenant's pins?" For now, he keeps looking through the other faces, stopping momentarily at the dog, and the stranger. "Uh, see you found friends too. I take it we're all on the same side though, right?"
Oberlin turns his head towards Lunair moments after. "Nice to see you. This time, nobody's shooting. That's a good thing." The smirk's still there.
Trask isn't forgotten. No, sir. Oberlin stows his pistol long enough to provide the other man with a universal gesture of greeting. He flips him the bird.
Sawyer, likewise, isn't rushing off into the arms of anyone on the Bravo team; she just stands in her sentry spot, watching some familiar faces an some not so familiar ones filter up to their latest hidey hole in the Sagittaron embassy. Her eyes search through them all, as if tallying who is still among them. There's a tick of a smile just for Tisiphone, and a more awkward one to someone else in the crowd. Then her eyes fall on Kulko. "Lieutenant!" She calls. "I didn't get myself killed. You're off the hook with Tillman if you can just get me off this rock."
Samuel is still in his uniform, although the uniform seems to be torn in places. Pausing as he overhears Oberlin's words, "Sounds like a vacation, sir," the corporal offers a bit lightly now. "I mean, no bears or wolves around here, right?"
Edge of group, meet edge of group. Stavrian's starting to back off as well, slightly awkward. But leave it to a Sagittarian to find another on the radar, his shuffling steps away bringing him into static range of Tisiphone… who he doesn't even realize is Tisiphone until he looks. And pauses, staring at the rhinestones across her chest. Hi, she's down here. "The /frak/ is that?"
"It's called delegation, Crewman. They teach it real good in OCS," Haeleah replies to Bannik with a playful wink. Eyes flit sideways to the old man and she adds, "They're with us. They seem okay. They were taking shelter in a hospital not far from here but it sort of… caved in on all our heads." That would be the Cliff notes version. Trask is spotted, and he's the next beneficiary of her roving greetings. "I was worried about you when you guys had to bug out. Well, kind of. You *are* Me One-Point-Oh. Can't frak up software that quality."
"You have no idea how many bullets I had to try'n intercept and how many falling buildings I had to dive into in order to get these," Penny grins at Bannik, flexing her bandaged arm. "This represents a concentrated effort on my part. I'm not afraid to work to get out of work." She hops back a little, surveying the crewman. "You look like you're reasonably in one piece." She looks up, blinking at the sudden throng. "How is… everyone?" she asks, scanning the crowd.
"Reckon we did," Kulko says, pausing near the Intel officer. "Let's get us some rest and we'll see about yours in the mornin'." The JTAC claps the man on the back, heartily, and heads off towards the building. To Oberlin, "All friends, sir." For now. He likely wouldn't respond to his rank if it weren't Sawyer's distinctive timbre. "Miss Averies! You're a stroke of luck, for sure. How's life at the eye of the twister?" He's just about approaching the steps of the embassy, close enough that he needn't shout any longer.
Still casting an eye at the unknown thugs every now and again until they file back into the building, Laskaris begins threading his way through the impromptu gathering. "Most of us, anyway," he calls out to Oberlin as the injured man asks about new friends. No, not a trace of irony there. He doesn't explain, either. A pause, as he nears the gathering of engineers and deckie. "Haeleah," he says, though it sounds more like 'Hailya' in that raspy accent of his. Lasher stops in mid-stride, smiling thinly. "Still in one piece, are you." His tone says that's a good thing.
Bootstrap returns Oberlin's greeting with a two-finger salute — and not the military kind. He throws in a fluttering of his lashes, too. That's when he's intercepted by Haeleah. "Hardware's a big banged up," he wryly smiles, "but still fully functional." The facial cuts have largely healed and the bruises are in their final throes of fading. As for the bugging out… well, he's not his usual blithe self. Also, Quinn never arrives. Neither does Alessandra, for the matter. Instead, he asks, "Bunny an' Pickle manage to meet up with you?" There's a certain tension in his eyes.
Tisiphone eases the pack off first, propping it against a wall, near a doorway. Helmet goes on top of that. Next, the godsforsaken yet life-saving armour, which she's in the process of wearily shedding when Stavrian makes his appearance. She pauses mid-shrug, looking across at him, then down to where his attention lies. Hot pink shirt. Rhinestones spelling out BOOTYLICIOUS. Could it be any more ridiculous? A scratchy chuckle escapes, as does her first, lopsided grin of the day. "Don't be jealous," she says to the medic. "I got you one too." Is she serious? Magic 8 Ball says 'unknown'.
"Uh huh." Oberlin says towards Kulko, bemusement alive in his features. "I'd like to think so. Um, that's Dr. Barron who just stepped in, those are his people. City Councilman of Kythera District Three. That's Butcher and Helios." He points to the man and woman. "Pretty sure you'll meet the other few who made it. Uh —. Yeah. They're on our side. Good shots." Back to Trask. "Yeah. Evandreus and Pylades. We've got them here. We only lost Sergeant Galiyan. Barron's men got hit hard but they're holding." He continues to give the sitrep. "Uh, what's your group looking like?" He smirks at the gesture but doesn't comment.
Sawyer can still smile brightly, even through the layer of grit and soot that's been smudged with tears and perspiration. "I've knocked on every damn piece of wood I can find, I'll tell you that," she tells Kulko, descending down one of the steps, standing with her weight distributed between the uneven risers. "I could use a bath, and an anti-radiation shot, but who's complaining? You're a sight for sore eyes." The team, presumably.
A pause, "I'm not sure if Bootylicious is a good thing or a bad, but it's … really sparkly," Lunair offers to Tisiphone, somewhat impressed and terrified at the same time. She waves at Sawyer, but she seems to be taking in people. There's hints of her shier side coming out now. Dark purple eyes consider the opposite group. Hmm. No one seems to be weighing her against a duck, so that's a plus for sure.
Penelope beams at Laskaris, reaching out to clap her fellow Aerilonian on the shoulder. "Captain," she greets the man warmly. Then, catching sight of Trask, she laughs outright — astonishment and delight. "Kal! You look like a frakking porn star!"
"If it says 'Dirty Hippie', I'm not wearing it." Stavrian makes a decent attempt to be serious, but it fails. Miserably. "Frak…" For a moment that's all the more he can see, poet that he is. "It's… /shit/ it's good to see you. Is anyone hurt?" That, now, /is/ serious. Duty never sleeps, and his blue eyes have a veiled spark of concern.
"Our taxi drivers? Yeah, they're around here some place," Haeleah relies, as to Evandreus and Niobe. "They're both fine. Our ride is toasted by toasters, though. Avante-garde blasted Raptor art on a Kythera street corner." She shudders when Sergeant Galiyan's name is mentioned. Her good cheer dimming several watts. She turns her head at the sound of her name from another. Managing a grin at Laskaris. And his shirt. "Looking fashionable, there, Lasher," she quips. Though the lightness is a little forced. "One piece? Yeah. Couple of close calls but nobody's managed to splice me yet. You?"
Somewhere in the mix, Oberlin's wandering eyes turn towards Tisiphone's shirt. "Let's see. I saw a so-called ghost. Now I'm seeing this. Did somebody shoot me?" He whistles. "Heh. Like the /look/, Ensign."
Oberlin amends moments later towards Penny, "Uh, porn star. I hope not."
Samuel just listens to the others, frowning a bit at the mention of the Sergeant. "How did he…?" he offers after a few moments of pause now. Frown staying a few moments longer, until he hears Oberlin's question about if somebody shot him. "I'm sure it can be arranged, sir." Glancing around for a few moments longer.
The makeshift news crew settles in as the blonde man waves happily and clings to the girl with him. They're thick as thieves. "Colin Ashwood. This is Marty. And this is my crew." He waves out a hand.
Meanwhile, Hal and 'his' dog amble on up to the steps. "Yeah. Doc Barron. You must be — Staying out of trouble, I hear?" The man smirks at the tattooed tough in Barron's employ. Who merely smirks back. "You know how it is. We're cool, right?" Hal's response is quick. "Yeah. We're cool." Meanwhile, the dog starts to wander off and sniff unfamiliar sorts. Penelope gets a dog nose in her leg, as she talks to the newcomers. This isn't lost on Hal. "Otis! Come on now!" He calls out.
"All's well that ends well. Or ends badly together," Kulko seems genuinely thrilled to have made it this far. He unsnaps his helmet, affixing it to a strap of his pack. The flak vest is left on, and he ascends to give Sawyer a grateful half-hug. Can't set down the rifle, just yet. As Oberlin questions, Kulko's back to business. "No more casualties since Barto. We evacced Quinn and Sophronia a few days back. They're comin' for us, Calvin."
"Don't worry. That's not what it says." It might be ominous if Tisiphone's tired grin would stop spreading across her mouth. She finishes shedding her armour and stacks it beside the rest of her gear, then moves over to put her back against the wall and sli-i-ide down to a weary heap. Thump. Looking up at Stavrian, she finally says, "So glad you're okay, Jesse. Maybe we'll make it back after all." Eyes close for a second as she thinks, then, about the questions. "Boo- um. Lieutenant Trask hurt his back, but he's moving better now. Samuel caught a round yesterday, outside the H-Train."
Laskaris manages to keep that thin smile on his face long enough to extend it Penelope's way. "Penny, lass." He returns his countrywoman's greeting with a short cough at the end. Clearing his throat, he grunts. "Good to see you holding up, too." With that, he turns back to Hae, looking down at his shirt and back up to the woman with a rueful smirk. "What can I say. Loved 'em as a kid." It's probably been since Lasher was a kid that the band he's representin' did anything noteworthy, too. There's a short nod. "'Bout the same." His hands run over his midsection. "One of 'em nearly plugged me somethin' nasty a few days ago. Missed all the important stuff, though." A moment's hesitation, and he pulls aside his collar to reveal a patch of ragged flesh on his shoulder. Looks like something mistook him for a chew toy for a minute. "Bloody wolf in the woods thought I'd taste nice."
Sawyer squeezes Kulko back, likewise encumbered with weaponry but the sentiment is there. As she pulls away with a faltering smile, she notices the wave from Lunair and returns it just as warmly. Her throat gets cleared of some emotion, and then she half turns to Oberlin. "We should get these people off the streets and into cover." And then, as if taking her own advice, she peels off with her head down and her proverbial tail tucked between her legs.
There is visible relief when Trask is told his fellow Harriers are okay. Before he can answer Oberlin, Kulko has. Unlike the JTAC, the ECO is not in buoyant spirits. After all, they have no idea if the Raptor even made it to the Cerberus. Ah, but there's Penelope, and he remarks with a sly smile, "Bet'cha wanna know if I perform like one, too." Oh, but then the other Cal be hatin', so he tacks on, "Not my fault I'm more awesome than you, Obi." Eyes back to the snipe. "You look lovely as ever. Very en vogue. Slings and splints are all the rage this season on Leonis."
"So. That's where they are, then. Evac." Oberlin says, softly. Hesitantly. "Good. I was wondering but didn't want to say." He nods a little nod at Kulko. "Um, we can debrief in a while. For now, my arm is aching a little. Going to haul my broken ass back inside. Just let me know what you've got and I'll tell you what we found. Some of it is — it's a doozy. Pretty much — well, now's not the time to bring it up." He nods at Sawyer's suggestion. "Yeah. Pretty sure we can all have a party inside." He shakes his slinged fist ominously at Trask and winces a little before moving on up towards the front of the estate.
"Wolf?" Haeleah deadpans it. Eyeing Laskaris up and down. She doesn't laugh, though. Given what her little group has survived, she can't be too surprised at the weird dangers faced by the others. "I want to hear that story. We got ourselves some high-class billet here. It's been quiet. So far." The 'so far' is ominous but they're on an ominous planet. That's about par.
"I'll join you. Got a fair bit to share, myself." Kulko shoulders his pack yet again to follow after the pair.
"I'm fine," Stavrian tells Tisiphone quietly. "We're all going to fine. Come on, mama." Just as she's said down, he leans down and offers an arm to get her back up. "Roof over our heads, better than this. We all got some catching up to do." He glances at Kulko at the report to Oberlin, and calls out over the swarming group. "If you're injured, stay by the east wall. I'll take a look at you."
Penelope startles a little, steadying herself on Laskaris and staring down at the huge dog nosing her. "Holy frakking shite!" she gasps, grinning like a loon. "Is that a frakkin' Aerilonian wolfhound?" She kneels clumsily to greet the dog, scritching his ears and scruffing his neck. "Hallo, you gorgeous thing!" She looks up at Trask, still lavishing attention on the hound. "'Lovely as ever' eh? You're full of shite, but I'll take it."
Lunair smiles at the dog, but she seems content to wander off on her own for now. Background Marine provides a lovely contrast without lensflare!
Hearing Stavrian's call, Samuel mutters a bit, under his breath. "It's called wounded…" It's only for his own ears, though, as he glances around once more. Shaking his head, he waits outside until most others has stepped in, it would seem.
"It is," Hal says as he strolls over towards Penelope and Otis, smiling softly to himself in barely-contained amusement. It's the first he's really shown around his new friends. "Name's Otis. He's my partner's dog." He extends a hand. "Agent Henry Morrow, Colonial Invigation Bureau. Or 'Hal.' Your friends here saved my ass from — well, let's just say it would have been a worse day. So Otis is just saying thanks." Otis, for his part, seems to accept the attention after a momentary pause and wags his tail at Penelope. A little.
But the ground is so nice and… and… and ground-like. Tisiphone eyes Stavrian's arm for several seconds before she reaches up to accept it. On your feet, pretend-soldier. "Yeah," she agrees to him, quietly. "Yeah. Holy frak, the things I have to tell you." She sways gently once she's back on her feet, then rebalances herself. Gear to be hauled, a new home-sweet-home to be explored.
"Don't listen to him, Oberlin. He's done nothin' but awesomely sit on his duff since we got him." Lasher's voice is dry as he calls out to the tactical officer with a wave and a smirk at Trask. Looking back at Haeleah, he nods. "You gonna leave me standin' on your doorstep all night, then, or you goin' to show me around this high-class billet?" His smirk widens, and he slings his rifle over his shoulder as he looks to the embassy.
"Otis, here, is a total porn star. Don't even have to say action." Dry as the bonedust covering the city streets. Brown eyes flit down to the dog. "Hey, I promised you some jerky. I never said you could rub my shiny Penny." Without missing a beat, Trask lobs to Laskaris, "I thought I'd give 'im," that being Oberlin, "a chance to feel like he was catching up." Then, back to Penelope, "So, where are we sleeping?" Scampishly, he advances into her personal space, as if to suggest 'we' means 'he and she'.
Penelope hobble-hops back to her feet and shakes Hal's hand firmly. "Good on you, takin' care of him, Hal. I'm Penny. Welcome." She smiles stupidly at the dog a moment more, then explains sheepishly, "He reminds me of home, is all." She laughs at Trask's cheek, shaking her head. "Nothing knocks you out of form, does it? You can sleep anywhere you like, Kal, m'lad… just keep in mind I'm sleepin' with my sidearm these days."
"Playing with fire, Sir. Playing with fire." This from Tisiphone — to Trask, presumably, though she doesn't look toward him or Penelope as she says it. She hauls her pack over one shoulder, claps her helmet back onto her head, scoops up her armour, and starts trudging herself inside.
"One of the breeds the Bureau picked up for K-9 work, Penny." Hal accepts the handshake firmly enough before letting his arm drop. "Nah. He's a good dog. Ty will be raging pissed if anything happens to him so I'd better get him back in one piece." He gently pats the dog on his head. "C'mon. I'm going to talk to some people. Come on, Otis." He starts to pile inside, himself. The other non-military folks seem to view him and the dog as sort of a stalking horse and quietly move along, following suit.
Hal does, however, stop a bit to eye the tattooed thug standing guard. He nods at him. The other one nods back. They clearly have some kind of understanding.
Samuel shakes his head as he looks around and listens to the others, keeping silent again now. Glancing back in the direction that they came, for a few moments, before he steps in through the door, a bit thoughtfully.
"No worries, Henny Penny," Trask breezily replies, "I'm packin' more than one heavy pistol in my pants, these days. And I don't mind sharing. I hope your gun likes the left side of the bed."
Penelope hahs! "Bed, he says." She shakes her head. "Come on… I'll show you the spot of floor I claimed." She pauses, then adds, "I worried about you, you great git."
"I'll have you know that I was born in wedlock," he glibly protests. Leave it to Trask to be facetious. Although, really, this is the first time he's been like his usual self since Quinn left. With the safety secured, the Taurian shoulders his rifle and then readjusts the duffle bag slung over his other shoulder. Oh, and there's the back pack, too. Strong like bull? Maybe. Or he could just be nuts seeing how he looks as though he's about to sweep the snipe up into his arms, so she can be carried. "I hope it's not far 'cuz I've already put in a frakton of overtime as a pack mule today."
"Shite!" Penelope yelps as she's swept up, her arms going automatically around Trask's neck. Breathless with laughter, she shakes her head. "It's — just past the front room — I can walk, you know. Lords! Mind the steps!" She winces and hides her head, as though certain they're both about to come crashing down.
Samuel has just gotten to the side of the door, and found himself a place on the floor where he can sleep by the wall. And asleep he is now.
So, maybe this wasn't the best idea. Trask doesn't drop her, no, but there is a grunt of exertion to accompany the increasing redness of his face and the bulging veins of his neck. When not on the brink of exhaustion and encumbered by so much stuff, carrying Penelope would be a breeze. Instead, he's glad it's not very far. "I've been toting a curly-haired, freckled, gimped Aerilonian lass for the past 2 weeks. With Quinn gone, I'm in the market for another. Now, bear in mind, this is just a test drive." And away they go.
The antics continue HERE.