The vertibird made its flight over the landscape of green yellow ambience. Wings patched up as best as they could be, it was as triumphant a moment as could be found in such a desolate place. Dr Kinsley, safely in her seat peered over the state of herself. Jellied chunks of ghoul clung to her, and her sock was wet with the blood from her cut - pooling into the inside of her boots. An irritating feeling second only to the sting of the wound itself. She looked at it with a raised brow.

“I’ve seen enough by now to know I’ve not many tears left to cry, kiddo, but thanks all the same,” she replied dryly, patting his leg with the hand he held. Still, her head turned so that she could look down below. With the mechanical growling of the vertibird, she had no chance of hearing the dog bark now - she’d leave it to the youthful senses of her teammates for that. 

“We should follow the direction of the wind from our landing spot.” she said at Owen quite suddenly, turning back to him with a serious expression before sighing. 

Owen plucked a small cigarette tin from his chest pocket. “You don’t judge the page of a book by its number, do you?” he asked before lighting the spliff. “I’d direct the flight suggestions to our good pilot. Maybe soften the delivery a bit.” The scribe glanced back toward Lancer Brown. “Seems a bit shaken up to me.”

Patty held onto a rail overhead with one hand, laser rifle held in the other as she kept watch on the landscape unfolding below her. Content that they were free from danger - at least for now - she rejoined her crew in the belly of the vertibird. She looked down at the blood peeking out from Kinsley’s shoe.

“You hurt, doc?” she asked.

“Just a scratch…” Kinsley shrugged in response to Patty, removing a roll of canvas from her bag. She lifted her foot off the floor, and peaked between the torn fabric of her fatigues - the cut was still clean, and the blood was at least beginning to clot at the opening now. “Nothing a quick stitch can’t fix, speaking of…” she announced, pushing herself up from her seat, taking hold of the railing to walk steady to the cockpit. 

When she was close enough, she dragged herself into the now free seat. “Brown,” she said with a nod. “You doing alright?” Kinsley asked, steadying her voice to carry over the noise. Sami nodded with a faux confidence and a tightened face. His face was battered and bloody - a head wound. Risk of concussion was high, and his leg and foot didn’t look in the best shape either. A break at worst, and a sprain at best. He’d come off badly from it all, and yet he was still doing his best to get them all the hell out of there. He was a good kid, and so Kinsley placed a hand as comfortingly as she could on his shoulder. “My thinking is you get your bird going west from where we landed, if the others are still alive, they’ll be in that direction…”

"[b]Let's hope so",[/b] Sami replied grimly, with an ounce of unassured optimism. His decision to keep the Vertibird going low and slow was probably the smartest one. He heeded Kinsley's suggestion of heading west, it was sound logic. But truth be told, with how chaotic and disorienting the storm was, the rest of the crew could have been spat out in any given direction and they could have landed anywhere. They'd need a great deal of luck to come across the Paladin and the others, as the comms system wasn't functioning at the minute so they couldn't simply send out an enquiry over the radio. Sami kept his eyes peeled for signs of activity or evidence of the Knights' presence as they meandered above the barren landscape. 

He glanced over to the melancholy doctor and remembered that they were down a four-legged companion who had essentially saved their asses. "[b]We'll find him, or he'll find us, don't worry. He's a smart one, that dog of yours[/b]", he said to Kinsley, attempting to reassure her and get some spirit back into her eyes. He thought it best to distract her from her missing friend, so he continued with: "[b]You seem to have handled yourself well back there. Better than me[/b]", subtlety gesturing to his ankle that had slightly swollen from his less-than-elegant descent following his miraculous repair job. 

Kinsley gave a soft chuckle, “you did just fine. Got us flying again, and don’t you worry - once we find a safe place to land I’ll patch you up.” Her lips tightened into a slight smirk and she leaned closer to him, lowering her voice, casting a glance to any listening ears behind them. “I got a tiny bit of emergency vodka in my kit, maybe when we land I’ll give you a sip for your trouble. Don’t tell anyone about that though,” she continued, pointing a finger at him and dragging air in through her teeth. “Don’t have quite enough to go around, so that’ll be our secret.”

Sami huffed in amusement. Was Dr. Harper flirting with him? He wasn't sure if the lack of sleep or the shock to his system was making him see things that weren't there, because the doctor was notoriously unreceptive to the point of prudish. Many had tried to charm her, Sami had even attempted himself on a routine check-up long ago, but to little avail. Despite her stoic and sometimes interpreted as robotic personality, the doctor was quite attractive to most, with her slender frame and auburn locks adding to the factor, but nobody has succeeded in wooing her, as far as Sami knew. So perhaps Kinsley wasn't as okay as she stated, or maybe Sami was reading the situation completely wrong in his delirium. Regardless, his promiscuous instinct had already committed his next words. "[b]I'm already enjoying your bedside manner, Doctor Harper[/b]", he retorted with a foxish grin and a twinkle in his eye.

The doctor's eyes narrowed, and she was almost confused herself until she brought herself back to the bleeding over his forehead and gave a cluck of her tongue. "Alright Brown, that's one hell of a concussion you've got... " Kinsley turned back to the window, looking down below them with an enervated sigh at the sprawling emptiness and mist, at the crater of hopelessness below them. 

There was nothing to be found westwards, so Sami maneuvered the Bird to circle back around and head east

“Patty, you seeing that?” Owen asked, pointing outside with the spliff between his fingers. A bundle of tall, ruined buildings stood in the distance to the northeast. “Say we find one of those supposed ‘hot-beds of civilization’. Do you think they’ll accept us or receive us as a threat?”

Patty turned about. Holding onto an overhead handrail, she looked out over the wasteland towards the ruins of a once great city. Squinting, she could just make out the high-rise towers of downtown Boston. She shook her head and sighed.

“Not sure I’d want to find out quite yet. If DC’s been any indicator downtown is probably crawling with those damned supermutants, ghouls, fucking raiders too,” she spat, “There’s no telling if there are even decent folk out here, could be the Pitt all over again.”

“Maybe.” The scribe observed the horizon, its detail blurred by the distance. “I certainly hope you’re wrong on that.”

After a while patrolling the 10 or so kilometres surrounding the crash site, the crew began to lose hope of finding their compatriots. Maybe they died on impact. Maybe something sinister or hungry (or both) had found them before they had. Maybe they'd headed further towards the Commonwealth to finish the mission by themselves. How could Sami ever know? He couldn't fucking find them. 

He sighed and leant back in the co-pilot's chair, exhausted, frustrated and lost as to what to do if they couldn't locate the Paladin and his merry band. Do they press on? Do they cut their losses here and now and head back to the Prydwen with their tails between their legs? Aside from Patty, the survivors were the least combat-oriented members of the squad. Surely they couldn't be expected to fulfil the parameters of a mission specified for at least 4 Knights with only 1?  

As he pondered the consequences and circumstances of announcing defeat, a [i]blip![/i] coming from one of the panels instigated a curious frown from the Lancer. Sami leaned closer towards the screen, scowling with mouth agape from shock at the prospects of what it could mean.

[i] Blip![/i]

[b]"Holy shit"[/b], he mumbled.