RP: NSS Altomir [Mission 1.1] Gathering the Bearings

[Back-Alley Nightmare]

Krystian wished he could have removed his helmet, but he didn't have that luxury at the moment. Instead, he had volunteered to make sure that the two Marines were clear. He went on a first-come-first-serve basis. P1C Scroggins had been the first to take off her helmet so Krystian moved over to her. Still keeping that defensive posture from before, he watched his HUD as the SAVtech scanned her. He was being bombarded with information scrolling on his screen, trying to find the retinal data, and soon coming up with an affirmation on his screen that told him the woman he was looking at was telling the truth. Not that he really doubted it very much. Maybe that was just because he was too tired and too green to be concerned about that sort of thing. With her done, Krystian moved on to the second Marine. His SAVtech began scanning her just as she asked her question.

His accent, thick as always, marked him out from the other Marines even in seemingly identical armor to the rest, "Negative. You are 'ze only 'vuns who have responded." The scan complete, he looked to the stairwell as he motioned to the surrounding Marines, "Present company excluded."

With that taken care of, he stepped back from the women to brief them on the situation, motioning in various directions where appropriate.

Motioning to the various rooms, " 'Ve cleared 'ze rest area, bathrooms, and book store." Followed by a gesture to the tracks, " 'Ve have a sentry 100 meters in to each tunnel." Then to the entrance they had just come in through, "Two in 'ze office building across the street." He took a moment to glance at the surrounding Marines, "Standing orders are to go in to low power mode, rest, and be ready to relieve 'ze sentries in three hours time."

That was quite possibly the most he had said in one sitting in the past forty eight hours. Truly out of character for him.

"I am Private Krystian Czarnecki." He once again motioned to the escelator, "You have already met Private Greer." Then he turned to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "Now I 'vuld suggest rest. You look as if the Creator sent you a vision of demise."

With all of that taken care of, Krystian headed to the rest area. Securing his impaler, Krystian moved to one of the far corners of the rest area, out of the way, and wasted almost no time in switching his Hostile in to a low-draw state. Opening up his suit, the Marine took in a deep of the not-really-fresh air, and stepped out on to the ground. He grabbed his DataJockey and his earphones. He kept one ear open, of course, and sat in his armor in such a way that his boots were still on the ground while he still had access to the comms. Leaning back against the armor, he set his music list to randomly shuffle. While sitting there, he fished in his pocket, and retrieved his most prized photo.

So there he sat, silent, listening to his music, keeping an ear open for any emergency, and remembering times past.

He was content by himself at the moment.

 

[Kokuten]

Saveli cringed mentally, hearing that he needed to remove his armor to guarantee functionality. The mechanic did not instill much faith, either, but that was not the mechanic's fault. Fanir teaches that your speed is what causes you to fall. If one cannot pick themselves up after a mistake quickly, then all they will do is tumble. Though Ghaliya's counter-diction to that states that all mistakes are mendable, but they carry no less weight. Mu'Klamal, however, supersedes them all by right of ground. As he pulled out his chain knife, and began sawing away at the Mindy's mounted weapon, trying to remove, he opened up his small book file of his very own Book of Dreams.

He couldn't give Thomas a response just yet.

     Mu'Klamal stood over the bodies of his own men, his blade covered in blood. Gestris came forth from the edge of battle crying out for reason why the mad General had tore apart his soldiers. The fearsome leader looked out over the sandy drifts before splitting the head of his freshest corpse.

     "They claimed they needed no weapon to kill the enemy, so I ordered them to fight me without their swords."

     "But General Kadir! You did not fight as they! They were mere men!  You used your weapon, and all of your strength! By the sun above, they did not ask for their deaths!"

     "A careless lack of sense, self-destructive foolishness, and unwatched bravado are just as much the weapon of your opponent as it is a fault of yourself. These men did not ask for their deaths, they begged for it."

That passage always shook Saveli a little bit, even though Mu'Klamal's summary executions were not common, they had much more weight when one felt pressured to deny that lesson. The Iroma sighed, his leg outstretched for the mechanic.

"Then repair the damage, what you can. If it breaks again, then I'll just have to wait for battle to take me, whether it is from death or rescue. I cannot slow the squad down if I can't move." answered Saveli, not looking back at Thomas as he worked on the Mindy Armor. This wasn't exactly his style, but his father could always quote scripture and sound poetic in the face of danger. The Cohronl couldn't help but see if he could pull it off himself.

 

[ShotJon]

Alex smiled and nodded. Admiral De Luca was tough. Proper nepleslian navy officer. Alexandra saluted and said. "Roger ma'am, if you need anything just shout. I won't be far." She assured the admiral and stood up walking to check the new people.

She sighed, when she saw some over-zealous marine checking the new-comers who were two women surprisingly. Alex did not really bother climbing in her amour just yet as she walked to get a better look.

"Greetings marines," Alex said as she neared them. "You are just in time for a tea party. Sadly we have no tea and there is no mood for party, but when that ever stopped us from having jolly good time right? But seriously now, are you two okay, any injuries?"

 

[Sanderford]

Naomi stood quiet and still as the Marine completed the security checks. He was professional and eager, she noticed, if a bit tense around people.

Listening intently as he responded to Caldwell's question, Naomi put the locations of the sentries and everybody else she could see to memory to understand the defensive situation here. If they were attacked, as might happen, she would need to be able to move reflexively.

"Greetings marines," said another Marine drawing close. "You are just in time for a tea party. Sadly we have no tea and there is no mood for party, but when that ever stopped us from having jolly good time right? But seriously now, are you two okay, any injuries?"

Naomi smiled tightly at the humor, but she was too tired really to give it more of a reaction than that.

"My leg's been talking to me," she said. "Ever since I came too out there in the open. I don't think we're looking at a break or anything, just a bone bruise or something. It won't keep me down."

Looking over, she indicated Caldwell.

"Des? Anything?"

 

[Rada]

Des shook her head. "At worst, I may have a slight concussion. Just guessing, due to the throbbing pain coming from my crown and my cybernetics working overtime to correct some lingering nystagmus. But I'm still upright. The rest is just bruise on top of bruise. I can live with that."

Des couldn't complain, especially in front of the two admirals. She wanted to tell them she was glad to see them alive, but it seemed almost congratulatory. The celebration should be saved for the welcome home parade, if there was one.

Des decided to keep the mood light. She looked at the medic. "No tea, huh? Guess that means no coffee as well. I sure could use a cup. Or a hot shower. I guess a cold subway floor will have to do!"

 

[MoonMan]

"Will that be all, Admiral?"

Flint Vanderhuge didn't so much as glance towards Bernhard has the smaller man went on about his reasons. It was understandable; stress was a natural part of fighting, and prolonged fighting meant thinner tempers. Still, Flint continued to to flick a gloved thumb along his knife's edge, smiling after hearing Greer's response. "That will be all, private."

After speaking, the enormous Grand Admiral put away his weapons and stood up from the fountains edge for a moment, before planting himself right back down, this time on the grey diamond-patterned tile flooring. The ID-SOL set his back to the fountains edge, or what he could set on; were he to lean back too much, he might just fall in. Regardless, Flint sat there and began putting himself in a more comfortable position, head tilting forward as his eyes closed. "De Luca," Flint spoke out again, this time to Admiral Violetta De Luca, still seated on the opposite end of the fountain. Upon hearing her name, the woman seemingly jolted back into reality, standing up and at attention. "Sir?"

"I'm going to rest for a while. Keep things running. Just holler if anything happens," the Grand Admiral gave simple orders to the woman officer, to which she nodded. Flint drew in a long, deep breath before exhaling it in a single drawn-out sigh, falling into silence with his head tilted forward slightly and his eyelids closed. Violetta, on the other hand, was now wide awake and now that she was standing, began looking around the immediate area. It had occurred to her that she had not eaten since the morning before embarking to Rok'Veru; a length of time that was uncommon for her to go so long without something to sustain her. Violetta could not help but overhear the chatter of the Nepleslian soldiers around her, however.

"You are just in time for a tea party. Sadly we have no tea and there is no mood for party, but when that ever stopped us from having jolly good time right?

"No tea, huh? Guess that means no coffee as well. I sure could use a cup. Or a hot shower. I guess a cold subway floor will have to do!"

Tea... that would be nice,Violetta thought to herself solemnly, her eyes tracing the walls from her position at the stone monument fountain, taking in her surroundings with an analytical expression.

 

[Soresu]

Seated on the ground, Yuriko leaned her back against one of her Hostile's legs. Tugging at the front of her tank-top, the uniform shirt hanging on a metallic finger tip, she soon tore the top of the ration pack's bag, using it as a makeshift picnic cloth.

Even as she began to heat her meal, Yuriko tossed the coffee packet toward Desiree.

"Just add water." was all she said as the scents of bacon being cooked tickled the Geshrin's nose. The can of THRUST was promptly opened after subjecting it to her HPAR's coolant canister leaving it frostily cold.

Soon fries were dipped into the bubbling cheese cradled within an ingeniously designed cup of bacon.

The tiny bottle of whiskey and cigar however lay close to the sidearm on the ground.

 

[ShotJon]

Alexandra looked at Towa with smile. Food was good idea, but there was some work first. She looked at both marines who just joined them. They said they only had bruises and such, but it would not work to check it out.

"Okay lasses, get your armour stored somewhere to the side." She said and smiled, showing her bright white teeth. "I think I will still look at your bruises and such. If anything I can dis-infect them and put bandaid on it or something." Alex patted her medical kit.

 

[Soresu]

Adding to what Alex said, Yuriko added after a long pull from the large can of THRUST.

"Admiral De Luca wants your suits in low-power mode. Keep'em that way for now. Don't know when we'll get refueled anytime soon and what we have is what we've got for the time being."

She waved a cheese covered fry at the two new comers. "And keep the SAVtech's active. Beyond that. low-power mode." nodding to herself she made that fry disappear in one bite.

"Mayhew, after them, take a look at Greer, make sure he's alright. He's a bit jumpy."

 

[Sigma]

Bernhard sat down against a wall and sighed. He tried to relax his muscles but they all felt so stiff. If he was going to fall asleep, maybe he should get out of armor? But as Bernhard attempted to debate the matter with himself, he fell asleep.

 

[Vertius]

Prodding fingers grazed over the dashboard for the keys, looking for any indents that might give way to a glove compartment or storage bin.  Devlin had little experience with vehicles on Nepleslia.  His eagerness to push himself to the limit often had him exploring sections of Funky City that could only be reached by hand and foot, and now it seemed life choices were biting him in the ass again as Devlin pounded on the fuel gauges in irritation.  With a sigh, he retreated from the cab with the MPR mag in hand.

Turning his attention to the MPR, the marine picked up the sniper rifle - light as a feather in the muscle suit, and went through the steps to load the clip and chamber the Sabot round for ready use.  He pulled the rifle into another hug, murmuring sweet things to it about the battles they would fight together, before sliding it into place on the back of the Hostile's waist.

With no more reason to remain, Devlin returned to the platform, but not without taking as many food wrappers as he could carry.  He didn't have any rations, but there was probably enough flavor left on the crumpled plastic to hold him over.  He returned in time to hear Alex and Yuriko explain the situation and had the suit go into low-power mode.  The redhead let the wrappers fall to the ground as he stepped out of the Hostile, leaving it against the the wall, beside Yuriko's.  Taking in a whiff of the new air, Devlin went through a serious of stretches and painful-looking positions before settling on the floor, cross-legged.  Grabbing one of the empty chip bags, he began assaulting the inside with his tongue for any lingering fatty acids, practically smashing the bag against his face. As he did so, his gaze drifted to the bacon mug in Yuriko's hand.  Crisp, glistening fat sent impulses to Devlin's salivatory glands, and he licked his lips as he scooted closer to Private Towa, his eyes never leaving the bacon.  "Wanna trade?" he asked as he held a candy wrapper out for her to take.

 

[Rada]

Des caught the coffee packet and thanked its prior owner for giving it away. She double-checked her suit to make sure it was in low-power mode before stepping out of it. The coffee would have to wait; besides, it was nice knowing a medic was around to look out for their interests. Des was the kind of person who would likely shrug off even missing a limb, or at least try to pretend it was nothing. She would keep going until she involuntarily collapsed.

"Not a bad idea, and it wouldn't hurt to get a medic's perusal," said Des as she stretched her arms and legs. She nodded at P1C Mayhew. "Ready when you are."

 

[Back-Alley Nightmare]

Smooth bass notes and the delicately carressed keys of a piano filled Krystian's hearing -- filled his world. Muscles tense after so many hours of combat and survival, any break he could get was a small blessing from an otherwise ambivelant overseer, and he was going to try taking full advantage of the situation. Stretching out his organic leg in front of him, the Marine grabbed his ration, and had opened it to begin observing the contents. A "MANLY" meatroll (good, if artery clogging), cigarettes, a SPEED anti-sleep/energy drink, a jerry can of jet fuel, and the other usual accutrements that came with a Neplselian packaged meal. The thing of interest was the .45 handgun. Never getting one in his meals before, he was curious. Underestimating Nepleslian society, he had felt there was now way it was loaded.

It was, he realized, after ejecting the magazine.

Of course, before he could really enjoy himself he couldn't help but notice Devlin. Food wrappers? The Marine was obviously hungry. Hungry Marines were underperforming Marines, and underperforming Marines got buddies killed. Not that his hunger was Devlin's fault, of course. With another glance at the meat roll and a tired sigh, Krystian shook his head, muttered and indistinct profanity, nearly talked himself out of it, and then mentally pimp-smacked himself back in to line. Another check of the .45 before he tucked it in to his belt, he retrieved a cigarette from the pack before pocketing it and the matches, and then stood up with a tired grunt. He held the meal in one hand as he made his way to Devlin. He waited until he was right in front of his fellow Marine.

The meal was dropped on Devlin's lap.

"You look hungry." He motioned, rather unnecessarily, at the meal, "Eat."

He punctuated his statement by retrieving the matches and lighting one up. Taking a puff on his cigarette, he oriceeded to head back to his own cozy spot in the rest area as the next song on his playlist started.

 

[Foxtrot 813]

Thomas remained silent as Saveli scavenged the Mindy's turret, unsure if he really got his point across. He looked around awkwardly, seeing the other marines getting out of their PA's and enjoying what little break they had to rest and eat. Not exactly in that order.

Still, he had as much of a responsibility to check on everybody's equipment as Mayhew had to check on their health, so he couldn't just sit down and not do it. Besides, it wasn't like he had been fighting for days straight like some of the other marines had and the sooner he was done checking on Saveli's the better.

"Uh, I don't think you got it right, buddy. I need you to get out of your PA so I can access its computer." He said to Saveli.

 

[Kokuten]

Saveli made the effort to turn over and around to look at Thomas now, giving him an odd arch of his brow that was completely lost behind the helmet. He could also see the others sitting comfortably and eating. Despite the cracks of rifles in the distance and the ambiance of war, they all seemed rather comfortable. There was a certain settling aura about it. He pensively turned to the mechanic, trying to remember if the man had said he could fix the joint without Saveli having to get out, or if that was just something he wanted to hear.

The soldier spent a few valuable seconds staring at his legs, and then at Thomas, then back to his legs. The Iroma looked as if he were getting ready for it to be lopped off, instead of fixed. Yet, that was the dilemma he faced in removing it completely.

Well, there are exceptions to certain situations. I'm sure if I'm careful... I'll be fine. thought the Cohronl before he brought his hands up to his helmet.

Click, click, click, hisssss. Went the man's helmet as it unlocked and depressurized.

With a gentle pull he revealed his less-than-Nepleslian appearance to the man in front of him. Saveli appeared Nepleslian, save for two things, the man had a pair of silver-capped horns, and his eyes glowed a gentle, platinum glow, the same as his eye's color. As the Iromakuanhe marine stared at his mechanic, he blinked once, and then again. Yet, the second time was with an odd, secondary set of lids that didn't obscure his eyes, but instead colored them with a polarized yellow.

He set his helmet aside, before tugging a little bit of his sweat-stained, chocolate hair out of his eyes, revealing a tattoo on his forehead.

Click click click, hissss... Saveli's armor opened to release him, and out he came. Unlike the others, he was minus a shirt, only wearing the khaki fatigues and standard-issue boots. Yet, that only allowed the others to see the odd, small bony plates on his wrist, elbow, and shoulders. As Saveli pulled himself out, and turned around, it could be seen he had a singular plate for every vertebrae going down his back. Each little plate had a hole in it, even the ones on his arms did. His whole upper body seemed to be a decoration for hard-lined, geometric tattoos which seemed to follow the flow of those plates on him.

Saveli, not one to be detered, gripped his chain-saw knife from his armor and looked back at Thomas.

"You take care of the armor, and I'll keep working." said Saveli as he took his knife to the armor again, trying to remove the shoulder-mounted cannon from the dead Mindy.

 

[Vertius]

Devlin sat up straight when the ration fell on his lap, cushioned by the plastic wrappers gathered around him. He looked up to see Private Czarnecki walk away in a puff of cigarette smoke, telling the marine to eat. “Uh, thanks. Will do.” he called back with a cough as the swirling gray settled in around his head. He batted it away with frenzied hands as he tried not to inhale. He regarded the box for a second before lifting the top up with a single metal finger and being blown away by a wave of meaty goodness. The MANLY Meat Roll was cradled in delicate fingertips before the Nepleslian’s face as he admired its simplicity. Beef jerky on steak on top of four layers of bacon which protected the hardened pork core, all insulated within a coating of melted cheese. Immediately forgetting about Yuriko’s mug, he turned the roll around and took a small bite out of its corner, barely breaching the bacon. It was like a slap to the face. Immediately, Devlin’s insides were twisted and stretched as a burning sensation traveled down the body. His nerves were thrown into anarchy as they tried to respond to the myriad of flavors assaulting the senses and the marine melted into a puddle of goo.

He tried to catch his breathing as he put a hand to his reddened cheek. With one arm, he pushed the pile of wrappers toward Private Towa. “On second thought, you can keep them!” he said, and pulled the MANLY Meat in for another bite.

 

[Soresu]

Yuriko just gave the man a rather odd look as he tried to pawn off candy wrappers on her. Her jaw was set, and ready to atleast share her meal with him before thankfully someone gave the poor guy something.

Though she simply brushed the wrappers away when he pushed them toward her, and then finished her own meal. Complete with dessert. Whiskey and a Cigar.

The Geshrin let out a little hiss as the whiskey went down in one gulp, burning all the way down to the churning mess of fries, bacon and cheese. While not enough to get someone drunk, at the very least the warming, tingling sensations of relaxation came over her even as she pulled one of the matches out.

The end of the cigar went sailing a few feet from her after being bitten and spat out. Seconds later, Yuriko leaned there, a leg stretched out with the other being used as an armrest, the cherry red end of the cigar achieving a subtle brightness as she inhaled.

The exhale was long, slow, savoring, pleasurable. Any number of words could've covered it. But it gave a brief respite from the rigors of combat to know in that moment it felt like she wasn't on a battlefield at all.

 

[ShotJon]

Alex looked at the woman in front of her and walked to Desiree. It seemed there was no injury on her, but Alex knew it is always better to check everything out. "Let's have a look there," she said and started the check-up.

"Tell me if anything hurts," she said and started checking Desiree's limbs and all the bruises on them. She also proceeded to clean the bruises and use anti-bacterial gel from her med-pack. If they bigger ones, she also put band-aid on them.

"I am Alexandra by the way," she introduced herself while working. She still did not know the names of the other two girls, as she was not in her Hostile. Thank to being busy she also did not notice Saveli just yet.

 

[Foxtrot 813]

The Hostile's helmet was what prevented anyone from seeing the expression of disbelief on his face as Thomas watched the Iromakuanhe leave his Power Armor. 'Explains the accent', the Nepleslian thought soon afterwards as Saveli blinked, brushing off his surprise; The other marine didn't have cat ears and so far had fought the NMX, like he was, and that was more than enough to show that whatever difference there were between them wasn't anything to care about.

"Right." was all that Thomas said as he left his own Hostile, stretching out and moving towards the other suit of armor as he popped free of his, showing that he had been wearing the standard marine uniform, save for the green beret and that the sleeves were pulled until his elbows. He wasn't about to stop by and chat with the other marine while there still was work to be done for both of them, and so he proceeded to find a solution to the issue with his habitual zeal. the marine leaned forward to get closer to the Savtech's core to access it and started working on overriding the safety system.

He reemerged a few moments later, having successfully managed to reroute the power to the Hostile's right leg, enabling the pilot to move it again if the damage hadn't been as severe as the suit's Savtech had judged it to be. Thomas looked towards Saveli and gave the marine a thumbs up, "Should be working fine now, but the thrusters on the right leg are damaged and might not work, so don't try using it." He said.

It was then that Thomas noticed how thirsty he was. He wasn't tired like the marines who had been fighting this whole time, and he certainly could remember the last meal he had before he boarded the escape pod, and while he was sure that he still could go a long way without eating or resting, but he couldn't go too long without water or he would dehydrate.

He briefly remembered someone mentioning something about the NMX and poisoned water, or at least he thing he did. "Do you think it's safe to drink the water from here?" He asked Saveli.

 

[Kokuten]

"Muna tells us that if you do not know if the water is pure and clean, you assume it is filthy and vile." said Saveli, having a hard time pressing through the material with his chainsaw blade. "Besides, Nepleslian travel guides state that running water in the cities is 95% likely to be contaminated and the result of poor plumbing."

Saveli turned over on his rear, sitting down with a dejected sigh, revealing to Thomas that he was only just now getting half-way through the shoulder-mounted weapon's hardpoint. The Iroma looked down at his chainsaw blade, inspecting the teeth slowly, noticing at least two of teeth were jagged from use. He pulled the trigger in lightly, allowing the teeth cycle at a reduced rate. After staring at them meticulously, he turned about and started cutting again.

But then he stopped, before looking over his shoulder at the mechanic.

"If you're thirsty, I've got a SLAM in my ration that I haven't used. You're free to the ration itself, if you like." commented Saveli, his mouth feeling somewhat dry itself. Though, he felt the mechanic deserved the food more, as services and deeds on the battlefield are supposed to be repaid in kind, as Mu'Klamal stated. "Consider it my appreciation for assuring me a longer life-span."