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2 yrs ago
Current This is why you shouldn't use an actual toaster to host a website.
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2 yrs ago
[@Dnafein] Because people are salty about didney and have forgotten about the prequels.
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2 yrs ago
*angry moth sounds*
2 yrs ago
Joke's on you Dagoth-Ur, I brought eighty bottles of sujamma.
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2 yrs ago
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@Crusader Lord WITNESSED

That aside, it looks alright to me.



It certainly had been quite the interesting ride, though more so for those awake at least. After departing the Quicksand most settled down into the carriage and seemed to be keen enough to get to know each other. The two seekers, or were they moon cats… Isabella wasn't sure on the differences between miqo'te to comment, only glancing at them from aside as she sat down next to one particularly eager and busy fiddling with some coins. She didn't comment on the oddity of tying coins around tails, seeing as how she didn't have one herself it didn't seem her place to contemplate the etiquette regarding such things. Instead she simply leaned back, adjusted her sunglasses and waited for the subtle rock of the carriage…

A nudge at her shoulder awoke her, the woman having been sleeping upright as the cats carried on with song in the enclosed space, and only with that motion was she disturbed. She didn't give a comment on it, only shrugging at him as the best response she could give considering she hadn't been listening enough to know if he had asked her something, or someone else had. One of the benefits of wearing sunglasses, people didn't tend to notice if she thought to catch up on some rest, most assuming she was quite awake. A moment passed and the one… Tora she believed, made a gesture towards the other women and she assumed it was just him being friendly. Proper introductions would have to be done later she figured, seeing as how she missed on any given within the carriage, but that too seemed to be coming to a close as they reached their destination.

Right behind the privateer she joined the others gathered outside the carriage, listening a little longer than he on the situation at hand. So there were a few around the settlement that could be questioned regarding the home and the title. Getting into a conflict first thing out of the gate wasn't exactly in her interests at the moment, regardless of whether it was physical or not. She would leave the Roe to the others on that respect, feeling it better to leave him to someone more… Diplomatic. Same with the lalafell if she was being honest, as her last experience with one back in the city left her even less eager to try bartering with one. That meant that Galfridus would be the best choice for her to speak to, and she was just about to say as much when that same cat bounded off for the pier.

"H-hey… Wait up!"

And off she was, right behind X'gihl for the fisherman. Behind her Lyveva had her own issues and while she felt for her fellow Hyur having to haggle for her own belongings, it seemed prudent to try and assist where her skills might actually pay off. Lance and rod clanked against each other on her back with her pack as she made an effort to catch up to their rogue rogue, finally stopping behind him as he called out to the laborers on the docks.

"Shouldn't we try to find Galfridus and get back to Lyveva instead of doing odd jobs?" Wiping her face and readjusting bandana and sunglasses both, she dabbed a little bit of sunscreen on her cheeks as she stood up more fully, armor creaking as she fixed X'gihl with a look. "Or at least make sure it's him first before offering hands to everyone at the Silver Bazaar."






With the imminent threat of potentially eating a dog dealt with, as well as the rogue elements that came along with it, Anchorage had little hold over the Noreaster or her crew. The engines idled as they cooked the bounty-hunters who seemed to think attacking a CR-90 was a good idea, and everyone was settling back down after a little too much excitement on shore leave. Not the kind she usually preferred either, if Solace was being honest with herself, watching everyone set to their tasks with varying degrees of diligence. The blue one they picked up was off like a bolt as soon as she gained consciousness, which she really couldn't fault her for if she was being honest. It had been a good few years since she took a tumble into a cargo bay like that herself. Then there was Natasha going about her own order, to which she stopped her before she left, fixing her with a dangerous glare.

"Touch anything in engineering, and I'll cut off your hands. We're still fixing shit after your last improvement."

The Noreaster was an old girl, and though she may not run as clean as an Imp-90, she was reliable if given the right kind of care. When it came to their Zeltron assassin, she would much rather take her chances with whatever dock-trash she dragged onto the ship. Speaking of… There was something odd about that girl Skylar, and she didn't quite have the skillset to determine what. That was something for either her sister or Airus, but first she needed to settle things, make sure everyone was accounted for and redistribute if she had to. Soft steps took her from the cargo bay, into the main hallway of that deck, and passed the conference room where she took just a peek in to see that everyone was getting to work. Sable was doing what a fully-unrestricted assassin droid trapped in the shell of a battle droid does best. For what it was worth though, the Lethan girl was giving it back to him double, and she kind of liked that sass to go with the- A presence down the hall alerted her to Five-Toes trundling towards the galley, looking every bit like he just lost an argument with Natasha over the dog. She would have to deal with that later, for now she watched those in the conference room for a moment longer before poking her head in.

"Hey, knock it off cunts. While I don't normally care if crew wants to beat the shit out of each other over something stupid… Brin, you won't win that fight. Firstly, he has a bomb in his chassis that ensures mutual destruction, so even if you win you lose. Secondly Sable… Well, you know what I'm going to say about that. Either way, cool it and get to know each other without beating each other senseless. I'm heading to the helm to get us into orbit and to the next stop."

Without even waiting for what would surely be a witty comeback or remark on her tastes, she gave a little wave through the closing door and was on her way. It was days like this that made her hate docking at Anchorage. Always had to be trouble of some kind, and it never helped that almost the entire crew had a bounty of considerable size with the Empire. A few moments of uninterrupted thought led her to the bridge of the ship, where her sister was already waiting, seeming to have expected her there. The strange bear-thing that she had collected from the cargo bay had been dropped off on her way, now left to its own devices which she was sure would be nothing good, but would have to be sorted later.

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you're going to say, and as long as no one is missing him he can stay. Just try not to let him run loose in place he shouldn't be. Oh, you want to do the announcement?"

She knew what the answer would be as soon as she asked, a light smirk playing across her lips as she slowly pushed the throttle up and watched as the shields over the hangar released to allow their exit. An end to a dramatic evening for sure, but now they were off into the stars and towards their next job.

---

"Attention passengers~" The rather cheery voice came over the intercom as the ship rumbled into full motion, always the transition from stationary to full speed leaving some concerned over the structural integrity of the vessel. "We are now departing Anchorage~ Please ensure that all st-sto-" A pause as just to the side there was a whispered question asking what a word was, and the reply came right before Sena continued. "-stowage is safely secured, and to remain in your quarters until we have a-a-achee-" Another pause, this time briefer. "Achieved(!) orbit. Dinner will be in two hours, courtesy of Mr Grell as always, and sis has also asked that all crew be present in the c-c-co-con-conference room an hour afterwards to discuss business~"
January 3rd 08:00 EST
New York City, New York - Farmer's Boulevard Spirits


Morning traffic in New York always tended to work one into a mood, even if road rage wasn't exactly a normal tendency. For Donovan Breen though, it was inspiring. Both hands gripped the steering wheel of the 32 foot box-truck, knuckles turning white as he resisted the urge to at the very least shout at the stupid fuck who just cut him off- "Watch where the fuck yer going stupid fuckin' tosser!" There it was, his fist shaking out the window as a honk sounded in return and the driver in question gave him the single-finger salute. Now he could feel his blood pounding, a slight twitch to his eyes as he took in a deep breath and tried to ignore his brothers arguing in the back of the truck. That had been going on for the last hour and honestly he had just about had enough, tempted to pull the truck over and shoot both of them. Yet they had a job to do, and unfortunately this job needed Angus' rather unique skill set.

The brother in question was sitting there in what little room was available, cigar in mouth and open bottle of whiskey on the floorboards next to him. Once Donovan might have been concerned about his brother's decision to smoke while he worked, but long ago he decided that if God were to take him from him in that way, he would just hope not to be next to him. Of the three, while he may have been the least likely to be suspected of some kind of violence at first glance, he just so happened to be nearing the top of the FBI's watchlist due to his so-called shenanigans. Angus was only being watched at the moment because he was merely suspected of having a role in a dozen bank robberies over the last decade, all involving thermite or explosives of some kind. Regardless of his supposed involvement in major crimes, he was likely the smartest Irishman most would meet, even if that's not saying much for some, and he did know what he was doing.

Next to him and scratching at the mess he called a beard was the other Breen, Patrick. Compared to Angus he might as well have been a rock for all he had rattling around in his head, but each of the brothers had a purpose and they rarely did a job without one of the others around. And if there was one thing that he knew how to do and did well, it was act as the muscle. He was probably the only one of the brothers to have an actual warrant out for his arrest as well. It was well deserved of course, he had very nearly beaten that police officer to death, and that wasn't even touching the six armed robbery charges, the fourteen assaults and the three actual murders. If Donovan didn't know any better he might think that the youngest brother actually enjoyed it.

"Look Paddy, I'm just saying that with a skirt like that I bet she keeps it nice and smooth. Like a feckin slip and slide if you get my drift."

"Oh I git yer drift alright, but ye cannae tell me that there's not the slightest possibility of her being an absolute freak."

All the while as they argued over the personal hygiene choices of prominent female heroes, Angus was tinkering with the job in his lap. The job of course being the warhead to a rocket. A rather large rocket at that, being the almost sixty-five pound ammunition for the launcher taking up most of the space within the truck. Donovan was probably the lucky one for this, and considering he was the boss of the local branch of the Irish Mafia, he banked this one on "Executive Privilege." Horseshit as both younger brothers called it, but he wasn't about to be set ablaze because he depended on Angus' "Ingenuity" as he liked to say. Really all the youngest of the Breen's was, was an overly patriotic kid for a country he wasn't even born in and trying to prove himself to a bunch of wankers overseas. In truth it was their grandfather and father who were the real hardasses of the family, the former serving in the last world war, and the latter taking it to the brits for the homeland.

It was part of how they were able to get their hands on this kind of hardware, shipped overseas in pieces and reassembled earlier in the week for the job that would put them back on the map. Yes, this would cement the Breen name in NYC history, and that thought alone was enough to settle not just his doubts on how crispy he might be once that big bastard launched, but also kept him calm enough until finally they pulled up to the spot. Farmer's Boulevard Spirits, a regular stop for the legitimate side of their gang. Of course, they had already done a delivery two days ago and weren't due for two more, but no one would be paying attention enough to really notice so slight a detail as that… Except perhaps for the real reason why they were here. Just down the street facing the back of the truck was the local Chinese Hand laundromat, and one of their main distribution centers for drugs and cash. Donovan could almost smell the sweet scent of charred heroin and burning cash now…

"Now the fast one though, oh man she's got the thighs to die for. Yeah sure she's not rocking the skirt and bare legs anymore, but even if you put pants on cake it's still cake."

"Yer a damn loon Angus, she'll give yer dick rugburn, and that's if the lass would even touch yer dumbass. Now that Sol on the other hand…"

"I'm the loon? I'm the loon?! Fer feck's sake Paddy, she'd crush you without even trying!"

"If only I could be so lucky…"

"Oi cunts!"

Donovan's shout was accompanied by the banging of his fist against the plywood separator between the cab and the cargo area, turning back to stare at his idiot brothers. "Truck's parked, so git yer shite together."

---

Meanwhile, just down the road with quite a bit less swearing, vulgarity and Irishness the Triad was doing business as usual. Above were the residents of the local neighborhood making nice with Madam Mao as she did the normal routine of giving out her 'sagely' advice and checking in with her neighbors. Never mind that one of them was a local hero, who the Madam was quite aware of and always did her best to appear as the doting elder that she played part-time as. It wasn't entirely an act though, as Robert Mao knew quite well and as did many of the local Triad members. The Madam as they called her, considered most of the gang as part of her extended family and that meant that any time one of them was in trouble she would be there to do her part. It also meant that they were subject to her full wrath if they happened to screw something up for the "family", but no one really paid too much mind to that.

At least Robert didn't, and once more as he went over the current business of the day his thoughts turned to matters of family. His own, that is. He took the stairs from the basement, handing off his clipboard with today's numbers on it and informed the crew he would be taking a quick break for a smoke. Madam Mao hated smoking, said it was a westerner thing and that it rotted his spirit just as it did his lungs, and as much as she was probably right he just couldn't kick the habit.

"I'm going out front for a smoke Mother."

His comment drew an exasperated sigh from the old woman, turning away from the pink-haired hero as she was about to go into another tirade against him, but seemed to think better of it. Maybe it was that she felt it wouldn't have any effect, or maybe she didn't want to seem like a bitter old crone from the far east hating the country she lived in to Sol. Robert made no fuss over it just as his mother didn't, resting a hand on her shoulder and promising to return in just a moment.

"My son, Robert." She said once he was out the front door, bell at the top ringing. "More American than some Americans, and certainly speaks English better than some of those kids I've heard running around in the afternoon. Says to me that he wants to leave New York, can you believe that? Married this Kansas girl who always talks about how much she loves the countryside. Sweet thing, works as a nurse in one of the hospitals, you know the type, one of the ones who does it for those in need."

As she spoke, coming up beside Sol and taking a lean against the counter, some discussion was underway down below in the basement. Mostly in the way of what product was being moved where, and some of those places most certainly not being Triad territory. With the relative quiet of some of the larger gangs of the city, the Triad had been rumored to be making moves, just the same as those moves were also rumored to be well and truly stirring the shit in New York. Sooner or later one of the others would have had enough, and raised voices down below made it seem like not only was the Triad prepared for such an eventuality, but that they were working towards it. Of course, most people in the laundromat couldn't hear over the machines constantly running, only one might be able to and the Madam stood beside her continuing on about her son.

"Robert, my dear son Robert, confided in me that he actually wants to leave the family business entirely and start a restaurant out west." Nothing too out of the ordinary for a family of immigrants from China- "Tells me that he can't stand our food and wants to fry chicken." Oh.

The son in question currently stood out front, quite unaware of his mother decrying his choices, but thinking of them nonetheless. He had been saving for a good few years now, worked on his credit applications and felt it wouldn't be too long before he would be able to say goodbye to the city and head west. A long draw warmed his body against the cool January air, the cloud of steam rising from his lips as he held the cigarette there for a moment and remained pensive. His thoughts were interrupted by the trundle of a large box truck working its way down the road towards the intersection. This time of morning it wasn't unusual of course, most businesses were receiving their deliveries and had already been open for a couple hours if not getting ready to do so. What struck the man was to whom the truck belonged. As it passed by he got a glimpse of the driver, an irishman who seemed like he took eight or nine punches too many in the last pub-brawl.

It was a face most of the local Triad were familiar with, that of Donovan Breen the head of the local Irish Mafia. What he was doing here this early in the morning was anyone's guess, but already Robert was feeling a little suspicious as the truck made the turn down the road facing the laundromat and pulled up in front of the local liquor store. A slow puff of the cigarette in his mouth accompanied his thoughts, working on what kind of angle could possibly be had. There was the logo of the 'legitimate' shipping company for the mafia, a rather vulgar interpretation of irish folklore depicting a leprechaun riding something called a butfor. After a few moments he simply shook his head and dismissed the thoughts, returning to those of his future culinary pursuits.

He didn't have long, as before half of the cigarette was gone the door to the truck opened and the vague outline of a large mechanism within could be seen with two men operating it in the confined space of the cargo area. It was almost comical in a sense, so much stuffed in that truck that there was barely room to move, and he would have laughed if he wasn't confused as to what it was they had managed to smuggle into town this time. If he had been a little more familiar with such things, he might have recognized the distinct shape of eight rockets sitting in the rack, steadily lining up with the glass front of the laundromat he was smoking in front of. Then came the bright flash of fire against the back of the truck, one by one each of those rockets firing and screaming down the street. In slow motion the cigarette fell from his lips, eyes going wide as he watched the cluster of eight powering towards him and the laundromat. There was no time for any sort of warning, all he could do was watch as a yellow-painted warhead passed right by his face and punched through the glass.

Almost as soon as it did it hit the back of the laundromat, landing in an open front-load dryer and detonating with enough force alone to bring the building down. The bow-wave of explosive force shattered the windows of the store, sending glass shrapnel ahead of the flame, and launching Robert Mao off his feet and across the street. Then came the explosions and the world screamed back into full motion as the laundromat went up in flames, as did the two businesses on either side, and burying the basement with everyone inside.



January 2nd, 12:05 PM (EST)
North of Atlanta, Georgia - Side of US Highway


Chaos did truly work in mysterious ways, or at least that was what she thought at first. It had been ten years since she lost pretty much everything she knew except her powers and the League, and they were better at saving people from physical danger than emotional as she found. Sure, for a bit she held out hope. There had been people coming in along both coasts from Central City, claiming to have escaped the destruction, and each time she had been there expecting… What could she really have expected? Every tale of heroes told about how they had to make sacrifices, and in those early years she thought she could be the exception. So it was that eventually, though she put on the same smile, she steadily lost hope. To the point where when someone showed up out of nowhere on the back of a friend, as cold a friendship as it was at this point, she doubted.

Doubt was what put her sister on the bench as she worked through every little possibility. She had gained a sense for chaotic magic over the years, and though it was nothing close to that of a proper demon or mage, this girl had a feeling of it about her that she couldn't shake. Not to mention the sheer coincidence of showing up just after being confronted by the spooky german. Next thing she expected Duncan to turn into a werewolf or something, maybe make an off-color joke about peaches and finding her in… Okay, she might have set herself up for that one and really couldn't fault anyone for that. Still, it felt weird and then… Then it got weirder.

She watched as all of a sudden her sister's hands started to vibrate, then energy sparked from them all around her. Being what she was, she knew what speed-force looked like and could see it coursing through the girl's body. Quite suddenly she remembered what her first time was like, ending up almost two counties over and more than a little confused as to what actually happened. Verra started to reach out, trying to get a warning out but found herself once again too slow as she had taken too much time thinking things through to act. With the quickness of a speedster just manifesting, the girl went from the bench and forward a dozen meters within the blink of an eye for any normal person. Then… Then she stopped quite suddenly, with the assistance of a brick wall.

"Hey! Language."

Verra was quick to scowl and point at Champ, finger wagging in his direction as she heard his curse and sighed. While the canuckistani could be rather endearing at times, difficult to reason with at others, and of course there was the whole thing with their last conversation… He had not once lied to her or anyone she knew of. Truly a boyscout. An alien one, but still a boyscout. She sighed again and pressed her palm to her forehead, fingers running through her vibrant red locks as she thought about it. If there was anyone left who knew her and her sister, it would have been him considering the connection they had before all this went down. So that meant… Well, first before she got hopeful, the girl had just knocked herself out cold with her first dose of speedforce. Everything else could wait until she was awake and aware.

"Okay. So, that's Lexi then. We uh… Should probably get her to a place less public and sort things out, people are staring."



"Halone… I know you're the Fury and all, but this disciple would greatly appreciate a little less of that right now…"

Somehow, some way she had managed to make it into the Quicksands before the bell, and before a few others in order to ascertain the company that she may or may not be joining with. It had taken what felt like hours just to slip into basic clothing, the fabric like razorweed across her forearms and shoulders. Each motion stung almost as bad as a Morbol smelled, and getting her armor on was a feat and a half considering she was working with plate by herself. Yet she did somehow manage. She did find some way to finagle herself into her proper adventuring armor, the simple plates attended to the night before as best she could considering the circumstances. At least none who were present had been there a few hours before to hear the exhausted thud of metal breastplate meeting table, and the agonized sigh to follow as the blonde Highlander accepted her fate.

The waitress at least was kind enough to inform her that those there for the Blessed Twelve were given drinks on the house within reason. A couple who had succeeded her chose to partake of that a little liberally, but Isabella thought it best to be restrained for now and keep to cool water. It helped a little with the heated sensations of her skin against the fabric underlayers of her armor, and especially with the flush to her cheeks. Her father had once given her advice on that in particular, she now remembered much to her detriment and failing pride, that the only thing worse than a full-body sunburn, was one on the face. At least she had her sunglasses to keep her eyes hidden, and the bandana around her forehead to cover up as much as she could. Then again, it could always be worse. She could be here joining up with a Free Company that was little more than a name and hope...

Once more she cursed Halone quietly, soft sigh bubbling into her glass of water as she listened to her fellow Hyur, a woman named Lyveva it seemed, and the leader of the Blessed Twelve. Part of her wondered how it was that information five years old could linger for so long, but then she spoke of Cartenau and she couldn't hide the flinch of shame. She had no part in that battle, nor did most of her kinsmen, something that left a bitter taste in the mouths of those who survived the Calamity regardless of how far reaching it had been. Nevermind that most of Coerthas had frozen over, or that the Dravanians had been relentless in their assault upon the Holy See. Ishgard had refused the call to arms. Ishgard had refused to stand with Eorzea at Cartenau. And to many, it felt as if Ishgard had refused to stand against Garlemald. That one stung particularly hard, as no small few accused her people of cowardice in the least, and many seemed to think that if only the knights and dragoons of the north had come to their aid then the battle could have been won.

Except some of them had gone to Cartenau, and a familiar face presented itself in the tavern not too far away. Theodore. It had been several years since she last saw him in Foundation, perhaps longer for him if he even recognized her, but she definitely remembered him from being around the Haillenartes. At least he seemed to be doing well, more of a fighter than she remembered, and it did well for her spirits to find another Ishgardian among the dreaded heat of Thanalan. Nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a bit of a commotion among those gathered though. No small amount of people had left outright after Lyveva's honesty regarding the position of the company. They apparently had… Well, nothing. Barely any members, gil and even their home was in threat of slipping away as well, though that last one felt a bit more due to the naivety of their current leader. A few of those remained seemed enthusiastic in her appeal for assistance though, and she had to admit that at the very least she wasn't actually promising that glory or gil that most did. Especially since the Blessed Twelve appeared to have approaching zero of both. Reyna would certainly be getting an earful after this, she had determined already.

"Well, I at least appreciate the honesty."

Isabella spoke up, a raised brow from behind sunglasses as Theodore finished his proclamation towards justice, vengeance and so on and so forth. Unlike the rest she would not stand, but she was not leaving quite yet either. Her lance shifted a little on her back as she too adjusted to sit up a little more upright, presenting the very clear image of a very sunburned woman out of her element.

"But uh… Does this mean you don't have any healers either?"
Totally didn't forget to do this a week ago, nope.

Looks at clock, then at deadline.



January 2, 12:04 PM
North-East of Atlanta, Georgia - Near US Highway 85



There was a distinct sense of the air shifting, of some kind of energy at work that she was both familiar with and yet not. At least… Not for some time it felt. Back in more or less civilization there were many possibilities about who or what could be coming towards her, though considering that as it approached and her senses sharpened it was obvious it was coming from above, those possibilities decreased by some bit. A part of her wondered for a moment if it was the same man from before, and reflexively she went on edge just that little bit as she thought to shift herself into speed-time to take a look. It would have taken her scant seconds to do so, and would have given her all the time she needed for any normal encounter. Something told her though that neither this one or the man from across the ocean were anything close to normal. So instead she decided to roll the dice and see what happened. Where she sat she looked everything like just another traveler taking a rest, and she could quite easily slip into the crowd if things came to that, just to come back with a supersonic kick.

Then she heard the familiar voice and it gave her just a bit of pause because it was the last thing she was expecting.

"Vee. It's been a while."

Champion. It had been quite a while indeed, their last encounter a little chilly as she had come off a particularly dim mood and the loss of Central City was a bit fresher than it was now. That was even before her new suit and she wondered if he had seen it yet, though imagined that he didn't come all the way here to find her just to talk costumes. Almost she had called back with a "Duncan", but caught herself as another person revealed themself to her, this one a younger girl who at first felt distinctly… Off. She had to focus to figure out just what it was, and even then the reason eluded her for now, but it soon became secondary as her eyes settled across familiar features. It was impossible. The girl looked so much like her lost sister, though a bit older and her eyes carrying a haunted look that was quite unlike the more lively girl she had known. She had only a moment to think, for practically as soon as their eyes met the younger of the two was already launching herself for her with abandon.

For a moment she debated on what to do, energy coursing through her body as the speed force enveloped her and she watched in slow motion as her sister sailed through the air towards her. Except… That was impossible. She had looked for her after the devastation. Sifted through the ashes of thousands for any kind of sign of her family. All she found was despair and yet more signs of loss, the echoing laughter of a dark god on the winds as she realized what had happened. No, this was not Lexi, it couldn't be. As the girl came ever so closer, she made contact, hand pressing against her back and instead of simply dodging the flying tackle, she redirected her into the bench seat as she flashed off to the side and took a moment to look at them both. It all happened with the flash of electricity, it still crackling around her hands and feet as she remained equal distance from Champion and Nano.

"Alright Major Maple, what is this?"






It had been a bold move to begin with, one that smaller and less experienced crews would have folded to any day of the week. Aurek had partly been hoping for this outcome as at least now there was some thrill of a hunt to look forward to. Both his own team's fire and the return proved mostly ineffective at this distance and from where he stood that was fine enough for the moment. Afterall, the force-sensitive one was needed alive and there was quite a bit of risk of collateral damage in such a firefight. A shot or two winged his way, grazing his shoulder and singeing the leather as he inclined his head just a bit so as to get a bearing on who had managed to get that close. Two women on either side of a crate in the cargo bay, one pink-skinned and bearing the countenance of a hardened mercenary and someone who had very likely seen quite a bit of combat. The other who had actually clipped him though, she was the opposite. Some fresh-faced human girl, perhaps core-worlds or the colonies if he had to guess, but either way it was too close of a shot to be coincidence.

"Besh!"

His command carried over the blaster-fire, drawing his companion's attention to where he pointed… Directly at Skylar hunkered down behind the cargo container. For her part she was more than eager to close in, but the incoming fire was too much to even dare leaving from behind their walking tank. Then, for one all too brief moment, it went silent. Aurek watched as who seemed to clearly be the captain issued out orders, a small exchange between her crew and the cargo bay door closing just that bit faster. If he was one to worry over the small details he would have noticed the arrival of yet another crew member, this one obviously blind and carrying a staff, as well as the shift of the baradium-fission device up the ramp and into the hold a bit faster than the crew pushing it were physically capable of managing. Others may miss those details as well as the whirr of servos kicking into motion, the scrape of metal on metal as turret rings badly in need of some loving service traversed. Yet Aurek was not one to miss the small details and just before the turbolasers opened fire he stepped to the side and backwards, hunkering down with his team within the energy shield.

Everything was sound and light as Ceph crouched down and minimized the size of the shield in the process. Flashes of brilliant blue and white nearly blinded him, eyes adjusting to the after-gloom and repeated bursts of light in repetition all while a distinct heat began to build and dust filled the air. When it was finally done it was almost as if a smoke grenade had gone off in the hangar, and slowly it dissipated to show the two distinct marks in the ground from where Ceph had been physically pushed back across the duracrete floor. Yet all three of his team still stood, and for that Aurek stepped out of the energy shield and smirked up to the captain and her team.

"Marvelous play captain!" He called out, directly to Solace as he aimed his blaster her way and then towards Skylar not too far from her side. "But the hunt has only started, and we always find our mark!"

Anything further was silenced as the cargo bay door shut and sealed before the killteam, Aurek turning to begin to direct them out and away from the ship. Then something unexpected happened, and so rarely was he ever caught off guard by his quarry. Locks slammed shut within the CR-90 behind him, as at the same time an automated protocol activated inside the hangar. All doors leading out of the hangar locked and secured themselves, something done only in the instance of a ship starting to take off. The heat began to build within as he noticed the distinct glow of the engines, raising an eyebrow partly in surprise and partly in respect for taking the unexpected. His admiration for the move was short-lived as quite rapidly what was initially a comfortable equatorial Tatooine summer turned into something approaching a braise and his skin started to blister and bubble right before his eyes.

Screaming sounded right then as well, as while at the very least he had some kind of tolerance to the slightly warm, and Ceph had his Beskar'gam, one member of their team was woefully underprotected from environmental damage of this kind. Besh's robes had caught alight as she cowered behind their larger companion, pale hands clawing at her face that was starting to fuse with the hood she had been wearing just moments ago. He stood there and watched as what was cloth and what was woman were starting to blur together, giving one final command to the two of them as he too succumbed to the heat. Ceph obeyed as he always did, turning and sheltering the smaller woman as best he could, providing a bulwark from the worst of the assault.


"Okay… So, that's a thing."

Solace broke the silence in the cargo hold as she brushed a stray lock of red from her face, cybernetic eyes adjusting to the break in combat and feeling her body steadily calm. "Brin yeah? Conference room. Now. Skylar, find yourself a bunk on the main deck and get comfortable for a long ride. Natasha… You know what I'm going to say, so just focus on doing your thing and helping the others count guns." She issued out orders rapid-fire, pointing to each person in turn as she ensured that control was firmly in their hands and providing everyone a point of order in the aftermath of the chaos. It wasn't just for them though, as while it would help immensely to get people focused and moving after a firefight like that, it was also for her to do a slightly discreet head-count and ensure everyone was present.

As she did, she noticed that while there were a couple new faces in the form of Skylar, Brin, Jarak and Alyra, she was also missing one and still had the issue of the boy and his dog. "Ah, and before I forget." It was just Kabal that was missing, likely the Ubese had crawled off somewhere in search of explosives and just chose not to tell anyone about it. What she hadn't realized is that in their rush to get the bomb on the ship and close the ramp, that he had actually slipped off the edge and was outside the ship being cooked with the bad guys. More prominent on her agenda though, she brought the rifle to bear that she had liberated from the guy looking quite confused at the end of her ramp, and put two blaster bolts into his chest. The next two found the dog that was poised to retaliate after the attack on its master, and with that one less problem was on her to-do list.

"Someone clean that mess up and don't tell Five-Toes about the dog. I don't want him cooking it, since we all know he would and won't tell us about it."
While I appreciate the heads-up, my plate is a bit full at the moment and I've got my own to keep moving. Good luck though.
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