[color=gray][INDENT][INDENT][i]
[color=white]|  EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER |[/color][hr][right]12:07 Hours[/right][hr]

Every single muscle in her body ached. A harsh sting seemed to stretch across the ribs on her right side, which worsened as she stirred. The sun's bright light was harsh even through her eyelids. But worst of all that pain was that which rested in her chest. She still smelled ash and iron. Her heart seemed to weigh down her entire body as images of carnage and destruction flashed through her mind's eye.

Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, the Shim'Tar, was safe.

Her people, however, were gone.

Artemis slowly began to shift into a sitting position, her eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the harsh light of the Saharan sun. A new sting came from a pain in her right arm, and a brief examination made it clear that it was dislocated. With a sickening pop, she managed to reset it. She barely grimaced at the sensation, for she had work to do.

The Amazon slowly rose to her feet, her eyes scanning the horizon. She saw, miraculously, a kickup of dust coming from the North. Artemis raised her metal cuff, spending a minute to angle the sunlight in the direction of the distant convoy until it appeared to be coming her way. If she was lucky, they would be able to help her.

She should have known that luck wasn't on her side.[hr]
[right]13:26 Hours[/right][hr]

[color=ed1c24]"The intel was bad, Command. Targets are Non-Combatants, Over."[/color]

Roy readjusted his kevlar vest with his left hand while his right held up a headset to his ear while resting against an APC. His eyes shifted to his company's logo on the side of the vehicle: a cowboy on top of a galloping horse, under which the letters 'S.O.V.' rested. He heard the usual crackle of radio interference through the headset, doing little to muffle the panicked whispers of the so-called targets Roy's company was intercepting. The interference ended for a moment, as he finally managed to get a response.

[color=white]"Negative, Arrowhead. IDs match hostiles. Proceed with mission objective, Over."[/color]

 Roy's grip tightened on his headset before he threw it back into the vehicle with force. He stormed back over to his four comrades and the civilians that were still shaking on their knees. The youngest of the meta's seemed to be about six. The oldest of the crew, a bright-faced man by the name of Henry, raised an eyebrow. [color=lightgray]"What's wrong, Red?"[/color]

[color=ed1c24]"Fuckers at the FOB."[/color]

Henry's expression shifted, as his eyes darted to the others. It was Roy's time to be confused, as Henry placed a hand on his shoulder. [color=lightgray]"Why don't you wait in the truck, Roy. We'll take it from here."[/color]

Roy turned his gaze towards the other mercs, whose gaze had already shifted to the civilians. He heard the soft, familiar sound of safeties getting flicked off.

It was instinct, more than anything. Roy's hands slipped over the cool grips of his sidearms, thumbs immediately unclipping the holsters. His movement was fluid and swift, and he didn't need to take the time to aim. Two bullets, two heads, two confirmed kills. As he shifted his aim to another merc, he was knocked off his feet by Henry.

[color=lightgray]"What the fuck, Harper! Have you fucking lost it! We're getting paid to kill these muties! What did you think you were signing up f-"[/color]

Henry's voice was cut off by the sound of another gunshot. Blood immediately began pooling out of the man's sides and all over Roy. The shot wasn't fatal, the two had been through too much for that. Roy used the shock and pain as a cover to push his former friend off of him. The last mercenary had already managed to run to the back of the APC for cover. He should have known better. Roy Harper dropped one of his pistols, dedicating both hands to aiming the other pistol at his comrade's covered position. He lowered the pistol slightly and fired a shot into the soldier's foot, having caught a fraction of a glimpse as the man was repositioning.

Once Roy had finished disarming and incapacitating his living comrades, he beckoned for the civilians to return to their battered truck. He didn't know the language, but frightful thanks were clear in any tongue. His hands shook with panic as he approached the APC again. It took him a moment to stretch inside to fetch the headset again.

[color=ed1c24]"Command, this is Arrowhead.  We're going to need a Medvac. Two warm, two cold."[/color]

[color=white]"Repeat, Arro-"[/color]

Roy didn't bother to wait for a response before he began prying the communications console out of the APC. It plopped into the hot sand with an unceremonious thud.

There was no turning back now.[hr][right]15:00 Hours[/right][hr]

Bucky had grown to hate sand. It always made an awful grating sound in the joints of his bionic arm, and created a tiny bit of interference in its mobility. He knew his evening would involve a solid hour of diligent brushing and firing compressed air into every single possible crevice of his arm to clean it out entirely. He didn't have the luxury of being able to hand it off to some intern back at Langley to do the dull maintenance for him. No, he had to do it the old fashioned way.

His eyes remained focused on the nearby road from his crouched position in a nearby ditch. The convoy was overdue by about fifteen minutes, but radio chatter seemed to indicate that they had an unexpected pickup. For a man out of time, waiting in a ditch for a few more minutes, or even a few more hours, meant nothing. They were his ticket in, and that's all that mattered.

As he felt a tremble within the ground, Bucky knew what was coming next. He laid himself flat within the ditch as the familiar sound of engines fast approached. He closed his eyes, resting his metal prosthetic palm down in the sand next to him. He was never quite able to explain how he was able to just ‘sense’ things that he couldn’t see, mostly because he couldn’t quite understand it himself. But the vibrations in the earth, the distinct hums of the engines, and the stress the tires placed on the ground could all be picked up by his arm’s sensors and fed directly into the spy’s head. And so, he was able to perfectly time the arming of the magnetic mines buried within the road to match the moments the first and last APC in the three vehicle convoy were in position. Each mine suddenly shot up through the loosely backed sand and clicked onto the bottom of their respective vehicle, a ring of red lights flashing three times before deafening explosions launched those vehicles sky high.

There was no point in stealth. Not today.[hr][right]15:02 Hours[/right][/hr]

The roars of explosives jostled Artemis awake. She felt weak, no doubt some side effect of the strange glowing metal cuffs around her neck and wrists. Her eyes fluttered open to the sight of panicked soldiers loading rifles and rising from their seats in the back of the APC. She felt a warm liquid trickle onto her hair. A quick look above her revealed brain matter and blood spattered across the roof where a lifeless soldier hung out a gunner's position. She heard the desperate squeal of tires that refused to budge beneath her, followed by a few popping sounds.

A smile spread across the Amazon's lips.

On a count of three, the back doors of the APC were flung open. Four soldiers filed out, flanking both sides of the APC. Almost immediately, gunshots rippled through the air. But Artemis caught the faintest sound of a softer popping noise, something akin to the crackle of a campfire. After the second pop, it was clear that the gunfire from her right side had ceased. Gunfire erupted behind her left hand-side. In response, Artemis felt a weightless sensation for a moment as the front end of the truck seemed to be slammed by something strong. The gunfire was halted, and permanently silenced by a few sickening crunches.

Artemis closed her eyes and centered herself when she heard metal groans as the front door of the transport was ripped from its hinges. She was glad to hear the worried cries of the driver before he too met a swift end. Heavy footfalls circled the side of the truck, approaching the opened rear. When Artemis opened her eyes, her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach. She had, foolishly, hoped to see one of her sisters standing there. She prayed in her heart it was Akila, or that everything she had seen was just another sorcerous trick. Instead, a shaggy-looking man in a right-sleeved leather jacket with a metal arm had sauntered into view. He seemed to clock her disappointment, but made no effort to address it. He hopped into the truck without a word, approaching the woman with determination. Artemis tensed her legs, straining against her restraints.

With a swift motion, Bucky placed his bionic hand on the cuffs. A blue pulse was emitted from his palm, and Artemis almost immediately began to feel some strength return to her limbs. The lights on the cuffs slowly blinked off. Another zap disabled the cuff around Artemis' neck. While she tensed her muscles and began to use her fingers to pry off the various restraints, Bucky immediately turned and hopped out of the truck. He crouched down, placing his bionic arm on the ground. Artemis joined him in the open air, towering beside him as she stretched her sore muscles.

[color=dace1f]"Are you expecting thanks?"[/color]

[color=6ecff6]"Not until we're done."[/color] He once again clocked Artemis' confusion, this time raising his right hand in a sign of peace. [color=6ecff6]"They have a compound south of here, 7 and a half miles. If anyone else survived, odds are that's where they'd be kept."[/color]

Artemis shook her head, trying to still the waves of confusion and anger boiling in her chest. [color=dace1f]"How do you kn-"[/color]

[color=6ecff6]"I was too late."[/color] Bucky's words were filled with regret, and an awkward silence filled the air between them for a moment. That is, until he seemed to sense something. His head tilted slightly, his brow furrowed. [color=6ecff6]"We've got company inbound. But something's off... the truck is a bit light.”[/color]

[/i][/INDENT][/INDENT][CENTER][COLOR=ed1c24][sup]________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/a74c8157-7c89-441c-b9f6-5afdcf58e281.png[/img] [/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=ed1c24][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Off I-15, California, United States[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=ed1c24][b]The Black Market #1.01:[/b][/COLOR] [color=white][I][b]A Beautiful Indifference[/b][/I][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=ed1c24][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][INDENT][sub][color=ed1c24][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]None[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=2c2c2c][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=2c2c2c][I]N/A[/I][/color][/right][/SUP]

[INDENT] 
[color=white]|  NOW |[/color]

[color=6ecff6]"You cannot keep feeding the kid Redbull and Cheetos."[/color]

The Outlaws were scattered throughout the surprisingly spacious gas station, one large enough that they even had convenient grocery baskets. Roy was in the process of loading one up with the offending items. He narrowed his eyes, squinting hard at the former spy. Not everyone had the ability to survive long days without a drop of caffeine. [color=ed1c24]"Oh, I'm sorry Bucky. I must have missed the salad bar in this gas station."[/color]

The two squabbled as they crossed closer to the cashiers, who were busy playing on their phones behind bulletproof glass windows. Displayed proudly near the disorderly space where customers could wait in “line” to check out were wooden baskets containing a few staple fruits. [color=6ecff6]"Have you tried giving her a banana? Or an orange?"[/color]

As he thumbed over one of the lumpy oranges, his words had lost some of their conviction as he noted the numerous spots and faintly rotted smell. The two meandered away from the cashiers, closer towards the aisles of snacks and jerky’s again. A biker, leather jacket and all, awkwardly squeezed by them on his way towards the soda fountains. Bucky gave him a sideways glance while Roy searched for a good barb. [color=ed1c24]"You're more than welcome to try with that cyborg arm of yours. I tried to give her one back in Provo and she hissed at me like a stray cat."[/color]

Speaking of the devil, the two men caught a glimpse of the teenager as she stalked into the same aisle as them. It had taken Roy weeks to source the materials and weave a hooded jumpsuit that Hollow’s sharp features wouldn’t instantly tear through… but he did a remarkable job in making it non-descript enough that she didn’t stand out too much with the hood drawn. Bucky and Roy never quite understood how people seemed to miss the red skin and sharp claws.

[color=dace1f]"Are there boar native to these lands?"[/color] 

Artemis was nothing if not conspicuous. The tall shelves, clearly six feet or so in height, paled in comparison to her frame. Her entire head was visible over the partition, and she stared down the two men with stoic patience. She did not seem to understand the two’s confusion at the non-sequitor.

[color=6ecff6]"What?"[/color]

[color=ed1c24]"Uhhh... no?"[/color]

Artemis scoffed, turning her gaze down to the array of over-processed snack foods in her own aisle. She plucked a few that she could stomach, her annoyance breaking through her composed demeanor. [color=dace1f]"'Tis a pity. I could have fetched us a fine feast."[/color]

As Bucky turned to look back at the various dried meat-snacks, he was startled to see Hollow staring at him hard from mere inches away. She bore a wide smile, which was becoming a more regular sight the longer they travelled. Though, in this instance, it was slightly perturbing. Once she had his attention, Hollow pointed a claw at a hand-labelled bag of bacon jerky hanging in the aisle. [color=f49ac2]"Like.”[/color]

Bucky slowly reached over, grabbing a couple bags with his right hand. He deposited them into Roy’s basket. [color=ed1c24]"Hey, see... protein. We're getting somewhere."[/color]

Bucky rolled his eyes, sighing heavily as he decided to disengage from the stupidity. He had more important things in mind, as he walked past Roy to intercept Artemis on her way towards the cashier. He slid a few bills into her hand, before letting out a soft whistle. Hollow’s head snapped in his direction like a dog, and the two left out the front door. Roy grabbed a couple Slim Jims for his basket, before reaching Artemis. She was busy ignoring the cashier’s attempts at small talk, watching the numbers on the display tick up with each item scanned. Roy dropped his basket on the counter next to hers. [color=ed1c24]“I’m going to hit the head before we hit the road.”[/color] Artemis’ gaze never faltered, and Roy took that as enough confirmation for him to slip away.

The bathrooms were surprisingly clean and spacious, the kind where each stall was a small enclosed room with proper doors instead of the gap-filled stalls you’d normally expect from a rest-stop. Roy appreciated the privacy, liking that he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with nosey strangers as they walked by. He heard the bathroom door open shortly after he settled into a stall, footsteps making it clear that the man was heading down towards the urinals at the end of the bathroom. After a few minutes, Roy finished up and exited the stall. He approached the large trough of sinks, and went about washing his hands. He lifted his eyes, and saw that the Biker he saw earlier was just wrapping up at the urinals. Unsurprisingly, Roy noticed the Biker was moving past Roy, seemingly towards the door. Some people were just barbaric.

Roy should have noticed that the footsteps had stopped when the Biker was behind him. Or noticed that the bathroom door didn’t open to signify the man had left. Nor did Roy notice the movement in the mirror. No, Roy was too busy humming the tune of ‘Happy Birthday’ to himself to make sure he scrubbed his hands with soap long enough before rinsing.

The next thing Roy knew, he felt the sting of something sharp cutting through the skin of his neck. It was cold and metallic, but incredibly thin. Roy immediately reached up towards the source of the pain, but he suddenly felt sharp pain in his right knee as something hard slammed into the back of it. He buckled down, and he felt the sharp sting of the garrot tighten as his own body-weight was being used to draw the instrument deeper into his flesh. Roy was still too stunned to do much of anything to defend himself. He couldn’t process what was happening, let alone why.

He had the opportunity to take in a big breath of air moments later. As he spun around, he saw the familiar glint of a metal arm crash into the chest of the biker. The assailant was launched several feet laterally, groaning in pain. Roy raised his head slightly to see Bucky stalk past him, reaching out a hand to grab the biker by the back of the jacket and drag him into a stall. Wet slaps gave way to sickening crunches and rasping gasps. When the job was done, Bucky stepped out of the stall and closed it. He removed a magnet from his belt with his right hand, and effortlessly managed to use it to close the deadbolt through the thin door. He placed the magnet back on his belt, wiped a bit of blood from his glove with a paper towel, and turned to look at Roy. [color=6ecff6]“Wipe up that blood and pop your collar. We’ll get you patched up in the car.”[/color]

Roy croaked, [color=ed1c24]“Who the fuck was that?”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“Ex-CIA.”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]“How can you tell?”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“I helped train him. Looks like he got pulled out of retirement.”[/color]

Roy scrambled to his feet, leaning his head over the sink. He filled his hands with water and did his best to wipe away the crimson stains on his neck. Touching the wound stung, but Roy had been through far worse. [color=ed1c24]“So they know where we are?”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“Must have caught us on a camera near Vegas and knew we were heading West.”[/color]

Roy finished drying off the blood, but a bit continued to seep through the wound. He popped the collar on his track suit, zipped it up all the way, and hoped for the best. [color=ed1c24]“So what now?”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“We take the back roads, and trade the ride when we pick up the gear.”[/color]

[/INDENT][/INDENT][/color]