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@Bob The GruntAccepted!

@Stern AlgorithmA ranked characters aren’t allowed. Change the rank of your Arm to B and lower the amount of revives to two please.
Victoria didn't have time to stop and make sure her demeanor was prim and proper enough to suit her commanding officer. If he wanted all to get all riled up because her words were a bit brusque and her actions seemingly callous that was on him. She had grown up surrounded by the rats and had learned from them. They were vicious little pests, hated by all and living in a world that wanted to be rid of them, but they didn't care. The rats were the perfect survivors, capable of digging through garbage to find food and tunneling through rotting wood structures to make homes for their babies. They made nests of filth to hide from the monstrous cats that hunted them every step of the way. A species hated by civilized society, they grew their claws long and their teeth sharp to rip apart and devour their enemies. The young girl could remember hearing stories about how smugglers and bandits would tie someone up and press a metal bucket with a rat inside to the victim's belly. The bottom of the bucket was heated with a torch of some kind and the rat would panicked, tearing through the unfortunate soul's guts without a care for their well-being.

It was a philosophy she respected. There was nothing Victoria wanted more than to see that her daughter and her comrades were safe. She had only known Diana for a night but already her heart swelled at the thought of her. Luke was an arrogant piece of shit with seemingly few redeeming qualities, but she had been the exact same way at that stage in her life. She wanted to ensure that Diana found someone to care for her and that Luke managed to get a hold of his actions before retiring to raise her baby. But when in danger or under fire she couldn't afford to think about anyone else but herself. The rats knew that, always the first ones out of burning buildings or sinking ships. Civilized people would stay to assist others. But Victoria was a long way from civilization. If the splintered spires that towered above grew fractured, and the city became their jungle, then it was furthest from civilization where the rules did not apply. Here, it was the rats who prevailed. Focusing on what others thought of her would just get her killed. If she died she wouldn't be able to care for anyone. So Victoria did what she best, squashing all the fear and worry she was feeling down into the depths of her souls as she shouted and kicked in doors. The frightened, hunched over young mother who had crossed the world to feed her daughter was replaced by a snarling beast who stood ramrod straight, towering over friend and foe alike as she prepared for blood.

The monster bared her teeth in a horrible smile, the expressionless skull of a mask hiding the way her scarred face expressed hatred of her fellow man. Victoria wanted to curl up into in a little ball in the corner and cry, but Victoria had been replaced by something else. A creature devoted only to survival, tearing its way through anyone and anything in her way: a rat. The rat was only calling for everyone to flee because if most of her allies survived it would benefit it here later. Rats traveled in packs after all. Her boots stomped heavily against the squeaky wooden stairs, butt of her carbine scraping away grime from the walls as she affixed her bayonet and checked her bandoleers. She had her ammo and grenades, what else could she possibly require? The blade was sharp and clean, readied to bloodied. She had enough ammunition to hold off a brigade, and enough ragnite packed into her bombs to take herself out if the Imperial bastards surrounded her. She knew what young men and women with adrenaline coursing through their veins were capable of doing to their foes, had seen it back home. Beaten and raped like a bitch in head surrounded by starving wolves? Not her. She would die and take the fuckers with her before that happened.

She could hear horrible choked, gurgling as she walked down the rickety stairs into the mouth of hell. People were dying, the cute little barmaid she had hit on the previous night bleeding from her mouth and nose as vomit pooled between her lips. The wretched girl was dead, no doubt about it. The Rat didn't waste a bullet, instead creeping along the wall through the vision obscuring gas. She could only seen vague blurs of movement outside the windows, ghostly figures running and shouting and shooting and dying. She couldn't tell if they were friend or foe or even just civilians caught in the carnage, so she ignored them. No reason to interfere with her fellow rats scrambling for survival.

And then suddenly one of the other vermin charged her, an Imperial rat with blood caked and cracked lips howling in violent desperation. The Oceanic digger was knocked to the floor by the sudden burst of power, her enemy no doubt fueled by a dying frenzy. They fell in a tangle of limbs, grasping for blades and triggers that were knocked away by the ball of snarling hatred. Her carbine ripped from her hands the female rat could only swat away the male's grasping claws that scratched and tore at the straps of her mask. "Give it to me!" the poor bastard screamed, his voice hoarse from the gas. "I need your mask!" Had Victoria been the one the one in charge she might have covered his face wither her coat and tried to lead him to safety. This was a war sure, but no one deserved to die like that. But Victoria wasn't in charge anymore. The Rat was.

"Fuck off." she snarled, growling the cold command as she seized his searching hands. A couple of quick twists and his pinky and ring fingers were shattered. The Imperial screamed like a stuck pig as he was bucked off, the feral rodent scrambling to her feet and scooping up her gun. Her opponent wrapped his his arms around her legs and tried to bite her, earning himself a swift stomp to the side of his face. The Rat tore her leg free and raised the butt of her rifle into the air. The Imperial knew what was coming and raised his arms to shield himself but it did nothing. The heavy wood club was brought down his skull, splitting it with a splatter of blood. The Rat lifted her weapon again as she began to repeat the process, obliterating the man's ribs and face as she swung and swung. Each swing was followed by an even harder one, her blue uniform getting splattered with warm sprays of blood and shards of bone. She screamed as she erased another living, thinking individual from the world, a single draw out war-cry that dared anyone stupid enough to challenge her to step forward and meet their end in the same unglamourous way as the dead man who was pressed into the floor.

POTENTIAL ACTIVATED: BERSERK

Eventually she stopped. It had felt good to get into another fight, to be able to empty all that pent up tension and convert it into the power to kill, but she couldn't stick around. The Rat masquerading as Victoria White quickly made her way to the group of her allies outside, picking away a stray tooth that had lodged itself in her rifle butt. "Who else is left?" she asked taking a step towards Diana as if to protect her from the monsters closing in on all sides. A hand scooped her rabbit felt hat off her head and tried to ineffectually brush away the mess coating the cape wrapped around her front.


Tagging for later
Victoria crossed her arms and spat on the ground as she concluded her story, ambivalent about having shared it. She felt no shame in her actions, no remorse. She was a product of her environment, had grown up drunken and violent to survive in a world where seemingly everything wanted her dead or at least broken. Her only regret was having fallen for Charles's bullshit. She had been so stupid, getting sucked in by his sweet talk and promises of a better life. By the time she realized nothing had changed he had already disappeared and left her with a child to care for and nothing to lose. But it was still a heavier story than was usually shared between people who had only known each other for less than a day. Hopefully Luke wouldn't be scared off, or if he was he'd remember her lesson. The more people she could keep from following her the better it would be. Already she was starting the see her new squad as her kids, another bunch of little ones to steer away from her lifestyle of scrounging in mud and darkness.

"Don't feel bad for me, mate. the washed up 18 year old muttered stoically. "I did what I had to do to survive, we all do. Your path to survival is different than mine, always remember that. Bright young stud like you could land himself a proper job and a good-looking old lady!" she said with a smile. She was glad that his standoffish attitude had softened as he had eased up. "Just lay off Diana, yeah? She's a good girl, she doesn't deserve to be treated like shit. Save that for officers." Her small smile melted away when Luke mentioned his "mommy issues", gesturing for him to tell his story. She listened intently, her only interruptions small coughs or muttered curses. She had thought her parents were bad when they tossed her out, at least they had never tried to strangle her to death. There was really nothing she could say, no cheery words or bullshit phrases to spout meaninglessly. How were you supposed to respond to a story about a boy fighting off his deranged mother months after losing his father?

"Shit." she finally managed to eke out, really only to try and break the awkward silence that filled the air after Luke told his tale. He was even more similar to her than she thought, at least when it came to the reasons they had choosen this line of work. "As soon as this war is over, you're leaving the army." she stated flatly, making it clear that it was an order, not a suggestion. "You can consider me a new mother, 'n' I'm going to be making sure that you do what's best for you. The military is good only for murderous thugs 'n' losers that can't make it anywhere else. We are not your kind of people, clear?"

Vicky idly straightened out Luke's uniform as she gave her command, fussing over him like a parent with their child. When he offered to help her settle into his hometown after the war she beamed happily, already imagining herself watching little Elizabeth grow and play somewhere that wasn't a dusty dead end. "A damned tempting offer, I have to admit. i'll think on it, 'n' i appreciate it either way. even if i don't move in i'll visit, just so I can kick your ass at drinking again!" Almost as soon as the words left her mouth the Oceanic wrapped the smaller male in a tight hug, holding him silently for a moment before letting go. "You stay out of trouble now, understand?"

LATER

When Jean had informed the squad that they wouldn't be drinking that night she had grumbled quietly to herself, reluctantly putting away her flask. If the Inn staff weren't going to serve her anymore it might be a while until she got a refill so she would have to ration it. The order to sleep in her gear met no resistance however. If they were supposed to be moving out soon it was just good sense to be ready. She went to bed early and woke up before her superior officer, idly munching on a piece of toast as she waited for orders. By now her trademark bandoleers were wrapped around her body again, empty carbine propped up against the table. Leaning back in her seat she let her gaze drift out the window. Her eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of something soaring through the air, legs tensing as she prepared to throw herself under the table to hide from the rain of shrapnel that was surely coming. She wasn't exactly looking for yet more scars. But something was off. She could hear the distant thump of the artillery, but none of the shells seemed to be going off.

Quick as lightning the Oceanic sprinted out in the gray morning light, standing next to Jean and some girl who she didn't recognize. She opened her mouth ask an obvious question but was silenced by a hellish whistling, a horrible, piercing sound that made her like her bones were being grated against each other by some unholy creature. The shell had landed mere feet from them, Victoria getting blasted back into a table and set of chairs with a burst of violent swearing. She grunted as she lifted herself from the ground, covering her mouth and nose with her floppy brimmed hat to try and block some of the choking dust. She was bruised and sore, but not dead. That was a positive. "Fucking things a dud! Someone out there likes us." she said with a nervous chuckle. Her gratitude for the good fortune faded as she followed the Corporal's gaze to the "dud" shell, noticing it's weird shape and the warnings of poison on it. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up, Victoria loading her rifle almost unconsciously. There was knot of foreboding and fear in her gut, the same one that had been there when she saw the armored car for the first time. War had changed, again. Now it was just a question of how.

The gas escaped it's metal prison and crept towards them, Victoria standing frozen in fear for a moment until years of experience hunting rats for food and fighting for survival kicked in. The mask hanging next to her bag was hastily slammed down over her face, guessing it's purpose. Jean had seemed to figure it out as well, but the poor civilian was beyond saving. Victoria watched her choke on the airborne toxin and fall, twitching and vomiting. She shook and trembled as if fighting off possession by some malevolent spirit until her soul finally ebbed out of existence. Victoria stared transfixed at the staff member, only to be broken from her trance by the woman giving out another twitch. Was she dead, or was there still some bit of life left in her? It didn't matter. If she was still alive, she was surely wishing she wasn't.

Vicky stepped forward and placed the barrel of her rifle against the girl's head, finger on the trigger. She remembered how when she was a girl she had earned a few pennies helping out on a horse farm, shoveling manure and feeding them hay. One day a colt had tripped and broken it's leg. She had watched it whinny and bray out for it's mother as the rancher approached with his shotgun. She could remember the creature screaming and kicking out as it's master took aim, as if it knew what was coming and was begging to be allowed to try and make a go of things with only three limbs. But the man with the gun knew best, and Victoria was given a meal of stewed horse-flesh that night.

Now it was her turn to extend mercy to a mortally injured creature, her turn to take aim and make sure the bullet traveled straight through. A pull of the trigger and the sound exploded in her ears as the round exploded out the back of the grateful corpse's skull, more blood and brain matter pooling with the filth Catherine had spat up in a puddle of waste. Victoria nearly slipped in it as she sprinted after Jean, leaving a boot-print with each step before jumping straight through the broken window. "EVERYONE LISTEN TO JEAN!" she roared, the yell muffled by the life-saving mask. "PUT YOUR FUCKING MASKS ON IF YOU PLAN ON LIVING PAST TODAY." She was struggling to keep from trembling and breaking down in front of everyone. The Corporal seemed like he was on the verge of doing just that, and at least one of them needed to be in command of their emotions. "Hey, buck the fuck up!" she snarled at the Darscen in a tone that was certainly unsuited for a superior officer but perfect for keeping him grounded like Marathon had asked. The Oceanic smacked the back of the Francian's head to make sure he was listening. Better she get punished for that later than the leader of the squad die now. "I'm gonna round everyone up. I hope you have some good orders for us when we're all back!"

The girl was up the stairs almost faster than her mind could register, kicking open doors at random and shouting the same command every time. "Put your damn masks on and meet Jean downstairs!" Her father had always said that when in crisis one should work to keep themselves in control. Well, now was certainly a crisis and the Squad Mom was working to make sure her children made it out alive.

@LetMeDoStuff @Jacky

For a moment Victoria had thought that Luke would have just simply tried and ignored her, something she was more than capable of dealing with with. The Oceanic's towering height and abrasive voice were well suited to getting a point across in combination with her abrasively accented swearing. Failing that, a liberal application of brute force directed at someone's skull was a good way to get them to listen. Something told her that Jean would be less than pleased with her if that's how she ended up handling the situation, but she couldn't give less of a fuck about what he thought. She would keep an eye on him sure, for Marathon, and follow his orders, but she was a firm believer in the policy of asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

God, he looked like such an asshole! Leaning against the side of the building seemingly without a care in the world, inhaling his fucking cigarette smoke like everything was perfectly alright. And the way he sighed and fixed her with that sidelong glance, it was taking all her self-control to not stub out his smoke in his eyes. At least he looked suitably cowed by her presence, rubbing his neck and avoiding her hateful gaze like a beaten dog. Bullies never did like it when they were cornered by someone bigger than them, and he was no different than the ones she had known back home. Victoria was going to whip him twice in one day, this time physically instead of in a competition.

Or at least she had planning to. The fiercely protective soldier was all set to deck the bastard in the mouth but then he just had to go and start speaking. He claimed that he had snapped, a weak excuse, but Victoria couldn't ignore the guilt in his expression. Had it really been done out of pure malice like she had thought? It would be so much simpler if it was, it had been some cartoonish expression of evil or foul-temper. Victoria had dealt with her fair share of people who were assholes for the sake of being assholes, she could handle them with no sweat. But when they expressed genuine remorse like Luke was solutions were messy and hard to work out.

She managed to keep a sneer on her face while she took in his explanation, well versed in acting she didn't give a shit about anyone or anything when she very much did. And what she heard worried her greatly. Luke's words about how he didn't care about other people's opinions of him, the way he was obviously spoiling for a fight, it reminded her of herself and the other transient thugs that had roamed the streets. Young, stupid, wasting their lives. She had seen firsthand where that road led, a bitter struggle with alcoholism and raising a kid for her, death or prison for many of them. Whether she made it out of the war or not, her life was over. She had no skills, no real friends, her family was scattered to the wind. She'd be stuck in the military until she was forced into retirement by old age or a bullet.

It was all she could do. She had fucked up and dug herself into a pit she couldn't climb out of, it didn't matter if she dug herself deeper. It was painful to admit, but that was the truth. But she didn't want anyone else to make the same mistakes that she had. There was hope for Luke still, if he survived he could still become a doctor or lawyer or teacher or anything that was more than a violent street kid who had been assigned a uniform and a rifle. She wanted him to succeed, to be someone that she could point at and show Elizabeth that she didn't have to grow up to be like her mother.

All at once Victoria unclenched her fists and relaxed her tensed shoulders, the fight leaving her body as she began to toy with the brass locket at her neck. "I'm not going to hit you, although you certainly deserve it." she said tiredly. "I just don't want you to end up going down a bad road. Luke, trust me, you don't want to end up alienating everyone around you. You can make something out of yourself, after all this shit blows over. You're not a fuck-up like I am." The young woman paused her spiel to retrieve her metal flask, the foul scent of cheap liquor pouring out as she opened it and took a swing. "You should really cut back on your drinking as well." she suggested, apparently immune to irony.

Her free hand removed her necklace and opened it, showing Luke the photo of little Elizabeth. "I was kicked out from home when I was fourteen and became a full time thug. I drink so much that I have trouble remembering any of my life before I was ten. I killed a person at fifteen and fell in love with a con artist that left me penniless and alone when I got pregnant. Now I'll wasting my life in the OEF because I don't know how to do anything but fight for my life. You can do much better than that."


Victoria had smiled cutely at the sight of Diana's flustered little blush, the teeny tiny soldier somehow managing to make herself look even cuter than she already was. Victoria was enjoying her interactions with the loser of the bet immensely, loving how easily she was able to make her new squadmate and temporary slave squirm and wiggle. What she didn't love was hearing the poor girl break into tears and confess that the foul-mouthed Oceanic was the first person to ever tell her that. "Hey, don't cry. I might have been the first cunt to talk about how much of a beaut you are, but I promise you I won't be the last. the gentle giant whispered softly, a hand brushing away her lover's tears. Was her squadmate truly that deprived of kind words? Or was she just being dramatic thanks to all the alcohol? Either way Victoria was putting an end to it, an arm curled around the girl's back as she slid into bed with her. Now it was her turn to blush as the smaller soldier entrusted her to take the lead. This whole scenario wasn't exactly true love or anything sappy and romantic like that but the Oceanic would be damned before she violated that trust that was placed in her, even if it was only for a night.

"I'll give you a few choice words." Slasher purred before tugging the covers over them.

MORNING

After it was all said and done she hadn't gotten much sleep at all, perhaps or an hour or two in total. The rest of them she had spent quietly resting her with Diana's limb intertwined with hers, flicking open the clasp of the cold brass necklace hanging against her bare chest. With each flick of the metal lid she could catch just a glimpse of little Elizabeth, her pride and joy, the reason she had exchanged the tick infested beds of Prairie for a tick infested bed in some war torn city an ocean away. What time was it back home? Was her daughter getting dressed for bed by the woman who she had been named after? Did she even really know what her mother looked liked? Would Elizabeth grow up only knowing her as some mysterious woman who sent money through the mail but never came around to see her? If the war went on long enough, that's all their relationship would be.

If the war went on long enough, that's all there relationship would be. But it would be so much worse if Victoria died. While alive and stuck in muddy, rat infested trenches she could at least send envelopes with cash stuffed inside next to letters that Elizabeth could read when she was old enough. As soon as she died that tap would run dry and her baby would only know her as a perpetual drunk who had shipped herself off to die in service of a Federation that cared nothing for her since it was all she could do. And as much as it hurt to think that that's how Elizabeth would know her, it was the truth. At the end of the day, she was just a murderous drunk who's one chance for a normal life had left her.

The Oceanic was so absorbed in her own worries that she didn't notice Diana had woken up until she complained about hr hangover. ""G'morning, beautiful. " she purred, hiding her fears beneath a playful grin. "Don't mind the headache, you keep drinking like we did last nigh 'n' you'll get used to 'em right quick." She nodded absentmindedly at Diana's talk of getting dressed, sitting up on the edge of the bed and watching her cover herself back up. "You're a whip smart student when it comes to this. I almost don't believe this was your first time fucking a chick! Anytime you want come yarn to me 'n' I'll make you even louder." It was a genuine offer of course, but it served another purpose. Slipping back into her brash, "who gives a fuck" attitude was like wrapping herself in a protective blanket. No matter how scared she was Victoria wasn't going to let anyone see it. Showing weakness meant that you were vulnerable, that you could be taken advantage of.

Throwing back on her uniform she went downstairs just in time to see going off about his mom or some other bullshit on poor little Diana. Her eyes narrowed as the scene unfolded, hanging back as the Corporal got himself involved. And for the second time in a single day she had to see her favorite member of the unit (tied with Marathon) break down into tears again. All six feet and three inches of lean Oceanic muscle was tensing for a fight, fists clenching and unclenching as she waited for Jean to leave. Memories of Marathon asking her to keep an eye for her fellow soldiers mixed with those of the night she shared with Diana and how sweet the girl was.

She was going to kick Luke's ass for hurting her.

Potential Activated: Mother Bear

When Luke left the bar she was immediately tailing him, blinking in pain as her eyes adjusted to the light of the outdoors. "Oi, cunt!" she hissed, leaning against the wall next to him. "Just what is your fucking problem? You were starting shit with Diana all last night 'n' now you make her cry? Are you really so up your own ass you throw a fit like an ankle-biter that can't wipe his own ass yet?"

@Landaus Five-One @Jacky
Victoria had waited around for a few moments after giving her "slave" an order, a predatory grin forming on her scarred visage in sharp contrast to the look of shocked realization on Diana's face. "Damn you're right cute when you're all flustered 'n' embarrassed! the Oceanic purred. "Don't you worry your tidy little rear about a thing, just head on up 'n' I'll be with you fast as lightning!" Her bandaged arms wrapped around the 5'4" fighter's waist as she whispered into her temporary underling's ear, the much taller young woman snickering at Diana's distaste for Luke. "A prissy little bitch he is, huh? He did strike me as bit too proud for his own damn good, guess we he'll just have to imagine the scene won't he?" She hadn't meant only Luke when she said "bring a friend" but it was fine with her either way. Probably best for Diana to learn to walk with one other person before she started running in a group.

But then Victoria's slave talked about some Darscen named Anna and it was her turn to be taken by surprise. So she had fooled around at least a little bit with another girl? That was interesting, very interesting indeed. That might make the transition a little bit smoother. "Diana, Diana, Diana." the habitual drinker cooed, voice dripping with approval as her fingers drummed against the girl's belly. I never would have thought that a sweet, precious little thing like you would have "experimented" with another girl. Looks like you'll be a quick student." She nipped at the girl's ear playfully before giving her another swat on the ass, a preview of what was to come. "You go ahead 'n' head on up, but don't expect to be getting much shut-eye. I'll be putting you through your paces like a fucking racehorse."

LATER

Victoria had known of course that "Marathon" (she couldn't bring herself to refer to him by his real name) was badly injured, Jean had told her that he had gotten shot or stabbed six times in the last engagement. But knowing something was different than seeing it for yourself, and she was shaken. She had seen her fair share of injuries both as a youth scrapping with pocket knives and rusty pipes and as a professional solider firing wildly at impenetrable armored cars, but this was different. It was so strange to see the hero of the hell that had been Operation Breached Gates lying covered in bandages like a common burn victim. It sullied the aura of myth surrounding him, showed that he wasn't some invulnerable superman. It was unnerving, to say the least.

It took all her self-control to not avert her eyes when Carter laughed and matched her gaze, approaching gingerly as if on eggshells. She giggled nervously at the compliment, a far cry from the confidence and bravado she usually exhibited. A hand brushed at her hair in a bout of self-conscious shame, rearranging it to better hide her damaged ear. But there was no hiding the ugly scar that trailed over her eye, a reminder of her days as a brutal thug. Her injuries were shameful to hear, blemishes on what could've been an attractive face. Usually she was able to compensate with overwhelming confidence but that wasn't going to work here. All she could do was hope that her hero didn't find her too grotesque. Who knew, maybe that's why Charles had left her? She couldn't blame him for running out on a giant, drunken knife-fighter that was all cut up.

You're too kind, 'n' I appreciate the lie. I don't get much in the way of compliments thanks to the slices and scars." Victoria gratefully took the offered space on the bed, being very careful not to bump the pride of Oceania as she settled in. Her heart was beating so loud she was almost scared that Thomas could hear it! "What the hell is wrong with you, girl?" she scolded herself silently. "He's just another boy, get the fuck over yourself!

She wanted to swoon right then and then when he patted her back but managed to get out a weak laugh instead, shaking her head. "It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than bullets to put us cunts in the ground." Victoria agreed. "Yes, I'm with Jean. Or at least I am now. My first unit was destroyed by the Imps and their armored car so I ended up attaching myself to this one. I didn't yarn much with him, but he seems fine enough." She managed to keep speaking for a bit as he messed with her hair, only breaking concentration to hastily cover her injured ear back up when it was exposed.

She froze in shock as Thomas winced and grimaced in pain, completely unsure of what to do. A trembling hand reached into her satchel and removed the always present metal flask, wordlessly offering it to dull the pain. Had anyone else tried to call her Vicky they would have been sharply reprimanded but with Thomas she let it slide, not wanting to make a fuss. Her eyes widened when Marathon explained how inexperienced her new commanding officer was. Only a month in the field? How had he ended up leading a unit this early? Her head cocked and she smiled despite herself when her hero called her "capable", glad he didn't know about the times she had woken up in an alley somewhere or how she had spent nights bawling her eyes out after Charles had left. She had no idea what conversation he was talking about but if Marathon wanted her to stick by Jean she would.

"I'll keep an eye on him." she promised, falling silent for a few moments. Eventually she spoke up again, idly scratching her thigh. "How long do you think this is gonna last? The war I mean."

EVEN LATER

After her conversation with Marathon Victoria quietly made her way back to her room, undoing her pants before she even got in the door. She was greeted by the sight of Diana naked and sprawled on top of her bed, heavy breasts exposed to the stuffy air of the room. Victoria was quite frankly amazed at their size, if she had to guess they were the same size as her own but looked much bigger on the tiny girl. "Hey, sorry I kept you waiting." she said sheepishly, kicking off her boots and dropping her bag before closing the door behind her. "Goddamn, has anyone told you how beautiful you look?"

She meant it. Victoria had lost the hungry, predatory tone of voice from earlier and replaced it with a softer, gentler one of quiet lust. She didn't want to screw this up and scare her off. The tall mother stripped off her own clothes and climbed in next to Diana, still bandaged arms wrapping around the smaller female and turning her to look in her eyes. "We're going to go as fast or slow as you want. You can leave at anytime and I'll never mention it again." A hand smoothed back Diana's hair before Victoria went in for a deep kiss, no doubt showing just how much more practiced she was than Luke.

@LetMeDoStuff @Landaus Five-One
Gracefully dismounting the table Ellie got back into her seat, raising an eyebrow at the klutz's words "Anytime you wanna go, I'm game. Your friends seem better suited for running a train on you than fighting, I'll gun you all down before you can blink!" It was a good natured threat, the American grinning as she offered the challenge."Ellie Vuković, rank 501."The smile turned into a smirk at Charle's eyeroll. He could act like he didn't care but she had gotten a reaction out of him and that was all she wanted. He struck her as a pompous jackass, albiet a pompous jackass with a good point. If Carsi and Pablo were guarding El President or Her Royal Majesty or whatever the Filipinos called her, wouldn't it make more sense to keep that under wraps? And using students to guard her? When was that ever a good idea? If the Disablers were really planning an attack, it seemed ill-advised to have literal children guarding her.

But ill-advised ideas were a specialty of hers, so of course she was going to seize the chance. "Oh what the hell, I'm game. The Disablers ain't as bad as the Hammmers, but they're still assholes."

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