[center][h1][color=ac00e6]Khaliya, The Swordwind[/color][/h1]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ff/f4/56/fff456a35e475ce133dc741789e686e0.jpg[/img]
[b][u]December 3rd, 2286
The Bunker[/u][/b][/center]

A soft rumble shook the foundations as outside the storm worsened, sheeting rain heard just barely over the din of the generator below and the idle chatter of people settling in. For their group, it was a small reprieve after a rather traumatic entrance into what they had already known to be one of the worst zones on the Eastern Coast. Yet for those three who had made a home of it, this was simply their home, and what happened today was simply another day. She could read it in the lines of his face when Armann glanced back across the empty bunks and the two he had remaining. They were never meant to survive this posting and that they had done so even as shattered as they were was a testament to his leadership, or perhaps the sheer tenacity of each of them.

How it must have weighed upon him to watch as one by one his squad was lost to the city, and only to see more enter [i]willingly[/i] in greed or desperation. Khaliya gave him a nod that communicated she was ready for the debrief, gesturing for Jeremiah to remain outside and keep the peace, though it appeared largely unnecessary. Quietly they walked in file towards the vault past several weapon racks and stores of food collected from the nearly untouched ruins beyond. Inside was the squad's impromptu war-room, a large table with a screen in the center to display maps and information to an entire group at once if need be. Armann didn't bother with closing the door, being far enough away from the others that it wasn't needed in order to keep the debrief discreet.

"Alright Khaliya, here's how this is going to work."

Gone was the stoic reservations of before, where there was at least a bond of brotherhood keeping the two amicable [i]enough[/i] towards each other. Here in the privacy of the war room, Armann was plain with her, and she was with him. Neither had any love for the other, and the last discussion they had before the Necropolis set the tone quite firmly. Before her across the table was detailed routes that his squad had patrolled through the city, red marks around the Consulate, black closer towards an entire section of the city marked simply as "The Mangle" and other varied indicators noting the varied threats within.

"Considering you're not here on Brotherhood business, and we both know none of those people out there are either, I'm running command on this outfit."

Of course, he was technically the more senior officer and by far more experienced. He had been fighting for the Brotherhood since before she was born and had seen more battles than any human had a right to. That said, she had rank and an attitude already, as her frown indicated. Few things irritated her more than pulling rank, which was why she was loathe to do it herself, but this felt like one of those situations… At least she could have easily done so right there. Yes, she could have shouted him down right then and there, called him out on insubordination and hell, possibly even called his own squad into the room to throw him in a makeshift cell. Brow furrowed in consternation from this unnecessary conflict, she decided to do something he wasn't quite expecting.

[color=ac00e6]"Alright, that's fair."[/color]

Just the shrug of her shoulders indicated she wasn't entirely happy about it, but that she was willing to play ball at least a little. Armann's irritated expression softened significantly first by the initial confusion of her relenting, and then by a simple acceptance and shifting into something more professional.

"First things first, I need to know about what kind of people you've brought into my bunker as well as exactly what your mission is. That said, it would be reasonable to expect that you and your people also need a better understanding of the threats within this city.

[color=ac00e6]"We're here as mercenaries of sorts for the Pariah, on route to multiple objectives within the city and to retrieve intelligence on their behalf."[/color]

Armann's expression darkened, obviously this was not the first time he had heard the name, nor the first encounter with such a group. She wondered for a moment, thinking to question him further, but hid the smirk as she let the thought drop and would allow things to play out. A glance across her side of the table showed a port for a data cable, typically to link up a pip-boy or a handheld computer. Their scribe must have helped set this up, it showed a fair bit of ingenuity to it that was masked by skilled repairs that weren't [i]quite[/i] technical enough to match the original. It would do though, and with a glance over at Armann, she pulled up the sleeve of her uniform jacket covering up her cybernetic arm.

The workings of it had been tinkered with over the years, originally simply a replacement that she had to live with, she felt that a little more utility would do wonders for the recovery process. A cannibalized pip-boy, three feet of cabling and some other items that the scribes went into a fit over once they discovered missing all went together with the original to give her a bit more tactical and strategic flexibility. The cable slid out from a nest of wiring at the core of the forearm, the panel atop it giving a soft glow as she removed the protective cover and woke it up.

[color=ac00e6]"I've got files on most of the group, a bit of recon before joining up with this outfit. Figured it would be useful and just took a bit of investigative work through Brotherhood contacts across the East Coast. First though, tit for tat. We need to know the threats in the immediate area, and are currently en route to the former Soviet Consulate. What can you tell me about it?"[/color]

"That it's not going to happen. There's a shitload of ghouls under some asshole named Ivanov controlling the surrounding block and a route to the waterfront."

[color=ac00e6]"[i]Fuck.[/i]"[/color]