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Aber was no longer a simple settlement for the prisoners of Arkos. It was now the rummaging grounds for a band of warmongers and lunatics. In such a short amount of time, vehicles and aircraft were posted everywhere, and the interior facilities were stocked with reserve equipment and supplies. A field HQ by the simplest definition.

Atop one of the helipads, Frank was seated on a crate, holding a tablet in his hands, with a displayed map of Arkos and its surrounding waters. Standing next to him was another man - shorter, darker, scarred on his face and arms, with filthy brown dreadlocks and a pair of sunglasses. And beside them was yet another man, seated on the floor of the helipad beside the crate, staring into the distance, petting an armored pit bull’s head. He was [i]undoubtedly[/i] the largest and most well-built of the trio, blue-eyed, bald like Frank but still retaining his eyebrows, and with much lighter skin. His face was - for lack of a better term - torn open. From his right cheek running to his mouth was an unsightly wound, boring a hole into the lower right side of his face.

“So it’s east of us, lots of vegetation.” Frank said, “Their primary source of food. You know what that means.”

“Fiyah?” The dreaded man replied, “Oh, Kaal, fiyah would be good right ‘bout now.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Baba.” Frank replied, “Set up your war gang and burn it down, preferably by tonight.”

“Not comin’?”

“Nah, got a few other things to plan out.”

Baba turned his head towards the large man seated beside the crate. “You wan' in on this one, Cliff?” To which Cliff paused his petting of the pit bull, grunted, and shook his head. “What, ya dun feel like ‘andlin’ some heat?”

“Hhhhggg.” Was Clifford’s only reply.

Just then, someone came up the stairs leading up to the helipad - a young-looking Caucasian girl, with piercing blue eyes and braided blonde hair, wearing a black-and-yellow striped beanie. She was pulling along a prisoner by his neck, collared and restrained. And the girl, she looked [i]furious[/i].

“Jasmine!” Baba called out, “What’s it?”

“This FUCKING ASSHOLE keeps regenerating, and someone locked a broken collar on him!”

“Jasmine, just get some fucking bolt cutters or something.” Frank replied.

“I fucking did! But Adelon built these things with fucking DIAMOND apparently, and the bolt cutters FUCKING BROKE.”

“What about a nully-sig?”

“I AM TOO ANGRY FOR RATIONAL DECISION-MAKING RIGHT NOW. And besides, I wanna see this cocky little piss-bucket SUFFER.”

“Calm down!” Frank responded, “Just go get one of the truck pumps and put a tank of riot foam in there, shove it down his throat.”

Jasmine smiled and nodded, turning to the prisoner and saying, “Oh you’re gonna get your pussy tucked in good and proper, you little shit. Let’s go!”

“Ay wait up, Jasmine!” Baba called out, “I’m gonna get da gang up an’ fly over to them freaks’ food stuffs, burn it up. Wan’ in?”

“Yes!” Jasmine replied, approaching Baba with the prisoner slumped on the ground, “But I’m picking the music!”

“RPS.” Baba replied, holding out his hand. Jasmine raised hers, and the two shook their fists. Three shakes, and then they played their hands - Baba went paper, Jasmine went scissors. She immediately raised both her fists and called out, “RRRNNNGGG YEAH FUCK YOU, YOU OLD SHIT!” She then kicked her prisoner in the head, grabbed his busted collar, and dragged him off, leaving the three men to their devices.

“She is just delightful.” Frank said, smiling.

“Bah…” Replied Baba.