RP: Taking It Back [Phase I] Assembling the Team

The machinegun fire thinned out with the presence of the Paragon contractors, and soon it was down to a small firefight. The contractors easily handled the small group of remaining ID-Sols and for a moment, the docks were quiet. That's when Alex finally reappeared. The whine of Airbike repulsors cut through the silence from above. Those looking up would see Alex and his airbike sailing down at them from the roof of a corner building, trailed by three more battlepods.

He whipped sideways before he hit the ground and pulled a wide circle around the group. The battlepods pulled up and circled around overhead, finding the optimum angle for attack. As Alex passed by them, members of the group could see a dead ID-Sol wrapped around the frame of his bike. Alex's helmet and face scarf had been torn off during his flight, and now his hair flew freely in the wind. Ignoring how heroic and awesome he could've potentially looked, Alex turned at an awkward angle to get a clear view of the battlepods above.

Without waiting for orders of any sort, Lucas lifted the machinegun Chrys had placed in his arms and dropped to a knee, firing bursts high into the sky towards the low-flying battle pods coming in for another strafe on Alex. One burst managed to score a hit on the 'eye' of the pod, confusing and disorientating it. The other two maintained a straight path down to Alex while the first found its new home nestled in the third floor of an office building.

Sammy and Angelo ignored the battlepods and made for the docks with the wounded, hoping to offload them to the doctors sitting idly in Truck 2. The remaining living mobsters from Truck 3 followed behind them on foot.

Alex kept the battlepods on his tail while Lucas fired on them, but it was taking a long time, and there was no way Alex could last forever.

"Holy bollocks on a stick!" Shouted Chrys and stopped in her sprinted sliding good meter through the dirt on the ground. "Hey people Stalker-man needs help!" She shouted then and crouched closely miming Lucas as she shouldered machingun. It felt like a toy for her Elysian muscles. No sense in spraying like crazy.

Having Machinegun did not feel good to her. She liked mainly rifles and this was cumbersome big weapon lacking proper accuravy she needed right now. Well she had to work with she has. No use crying over it. With her MG shouldered she started firing approximetly one second burts at front battlepod.

Archie regained conciousness, the concussion from the blast had knocked him cold, his face pressed hard against asphalt. He felt over his shoulder to the sliver of metal from the explosion stuck in the meat of his shoulder. Despite the pain he chuckled as he slowly forced himself up, another brush with death cheated and another mark to add to his collection. In front of him what was once the “eye” of the battle pod lay detached, its red glow fading as he scooped it up and turned to look for his other weapons.

The Havoc had already stopped, its main gun elevated on line with the two fast targets. It's secondary turret opened fire first, sending a stream of 25mm slugs into the lead battle pod. It's main gun however was tracking the rear battlepod, once the fire control system locked it up the tank's gunner pulled the trigger on his control stick.

The ground around the heavy AFV shook as it's main weapon lobbed a shell skyward, it struck the rear craft at speeds faster then the eye could follow. Shattering the pod into hundreds of fragments sent hurtling in all directions as it exploded.

At the crash site Lang was shouting orders into his COM, the three technicals were obeying, spraying buildings with suppressive fire as the survivors were herded onto remaining vehicles.

The rocket tube had disappeared during his flight from the about-to-be-crushed tank, however his rifle had fallen clear of the truck and excepting a few scratches on the brand-new finish it was perfectly functional. He slung it over his back and checked the rest of his ammo and weapons, pieces of battlepod stinging as they hailed down from above as the tank fired.

Satisfied that everything was in order he looked at the carnage around him, rather than climb aboard the waiting vehicles he noticed that the young gunsmith Alexis was missing. His moustache twitched at the thought of her in danger because he'd been too stupid to wipe a datapad properly. He went out to find her.

Rennik slowly stirred awake as the sounds of battle continued around him. He became distinctly aware that he was no longer in the truck, nor was the truck right-side up.
His head was throbbing, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from the back of his head. He didn't have the ability to speak, or at least he didn't think he did...in any case he didn't because it just didn't feel right doing so.
Rennik noticed Lucas behind him, firing something at something else.
~oh well~ he thought as he clambered to his unsteady feet. He had a lot of glass sticking in him, and on him, and around him. As he limped his way to the flipped truck (he needed his rifle and bag), he stopped to help pick people up and get them to cover.

"Bout damn time!" Dimitri also stepped out of the truck at the same time as the driver, and finally took out the sub-machinegun from the strap across his body. Now that he was out of the truck, he was definitely going to need the firepower to keep himself alive.

He began taking aim and shooting short burst after short burst, slowly turning back until he could get proper cover.

"HOLY SH--" The explosion of the battlepod was intense. Pieces flying off everywhere, the works. A piece of the battlepod almost ended up hitting him on the head, sending a stroke of heat at his face, which he proceeded to diffuse by running the hell the other way towards the nearest pickup truck as he shot the sub-machinegun towards the baddies for cover fire.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!" He dodge-rolled into cover behind a technical, and then stood up. Dimitri noticed Lucas and some other chick from earlier were both on the back of the vehicle, so he made his way towards the driver's seat, opened the door looked at the driver with a pissed off face. "Scoot the hell over!"

Alexis finally gained her feet, again, after regaining control of her breathing and fighting down the dizzy rush of standing. A lot of time had gone into training in stressful conditions - but it was a different sort of stress. The snap of gunfire was commonplace, but the exchanges around here were beginning to make her ears ring. The pressure of people watching was familiar, but those people weren't usually trying to kill her; she kept her head down and she moved around the vehicle.

Her gun; she needed that gun.

The gunmetal stock was easy to spy in the rubble, just out of the protective cover that the vehicle was affording her. Crouching near the front tires of the truck, which were already shredded by the fighting, Ally considered her options. On the one hand, she could simply stay behind the truck, in safe cover - which was preferable to the possibility of sticking her neck out and being riddled like cheese.

Breathe in; breathe out. Think, Ally, think.

There was a rhythm to the machine gun fire. And she didn't hear the metallic sound of bullets against the truck, anymore, or see the dust kicked up by shots just narrowly missing her. They weren't firing at her anymore. Gathering herself, Ally wiped blood out of her eyes with the sleeve of her leather jacket. It left a glistening black smear.

Then she was on her feet and moving. A second later and she had her GP-1 in the one hand, and her revolver in the other, and she was turned around heading back to cover when the bullet hit her like an angry hornet; a bee sting that at first she barely felt, followed by a minor 'pop', and a wash of pain that nearly paralyzed her, and splattered blood and bone to peices. The rifle fell from the numb, useless fingers of her right hand, and she just barely got back into cover before the firing started again. A bullet or two destroyed the rifle as she watched, and their explosive charges blew it to bits.

Another sniper on the field meant that she was in trouble. Determined, she gripped her revolver until her knuckles were white and ground her teeth together, trying not to look at her mangled, useless arm. She forced herself to think of the caliber of bullet. The distance. The angle. Her consciousness was slowly fading to the pain, but she was going to get that motherfucker, and drag him to hell with her.

Leaning against the door, she angled the truck's mirror at the opposite building, and panned. The salty blood from the laceration over her eye stung, but she blinked it away as best she could and squinted hard, trying to make out shapes or movement. There. In the second story window, behind the curtain, she could just make out the silhouette. One-handed, Alexis drew back the hammer of her pistol, and forced herself to hold her breath.

Stand. Line it up - focus on the far target, not on the sights. Take your time, all the time you need, loosen your arm a little. Don't think about it so hard. One in a million shot.

Bang. Her thumb almost missed the second hammerfall, but she got the mechanism back just barely. It was going to go wide and miss; Ally knew before she fired, but pure adrenaline egged her on. Bang.

She strained her eyes to see - but the movement in the building had stopped.

I got you, asshole.

An insane sort of bliss stole over her, moments before she collapsed, unconscious from the pain and shock.

Before Alexis even hit the ground, she was swept up into a thin arm, onto an airbike, and away from the falling battlepod which; now filled with bullets from Lucas and Chrys, would've made her into a stain on the sidewalk. The firey blast chased her and Alex for a meter or so before the heat began to fade and Alex swung around, coming alongside Sammy's technical. Angelo had graciously moved over for Dimitri (meaning that he'd been secretly hoping to not drive anymore) and Sammy had joined Lucas and Chrys in bringing down the battlepod. The car dealer had a strange frenzied look about him. The road and streets around them were dead quiet. There were no more ID-Sols in sight.

Alex hefted Alexis over the front of the bike and lie her behind the handle-bars slumping over the bike, being careful of her arm (which barely could be still defined as 'an arm'). He leaned in and spoke to Dimitri, "Let's get everyone off of the road and over to the dock."

Without waiting for Dimitri's response, Alex turned to the panting form of Lucas and gave similar instruction. "I'm going to take her to the medical proffesionals, you round everyone up and bring them to the dock." With that, he shot off, making a beeline for the one truck that made it to the dock with the doctors and mechanics.

Lucas took charge. "Alright everybody! You heard the man! Let's get onto the dock and get all these vehicles over there too. You! Crying guy! Go check and see if those any of those buggies still work. You, cowardly maggot hiding behind the Paragon guys! Go round up the hunter and the delivery boy, send them my way. Lang, move your troops over to the dock and have them set up a perimeter. Everyone else, move your lazy asses off the fuckin' road before more of those big fucks show up to ruin our parade. Get moving!"

The last order echoed in the silence of the charred asphalt covered with bloodstains.

----

[Two Hours Later]

Spotlights cast a harsh white glow on the dock while the men finished the last parts of loading the salvaged vehicles and weapons into the large black submarine which had kindly pulled up to the dock almost an hour before hand. The beast which had slumbered in the depths for the last four years was looking none the worse for the wear. There were a few barnacles speckled over the length of its mass, but the ship was still seaworthy and in excellent repair.

Nearby, the doctors had set up a triage area, filled with the wounded and dead. They were planning to move into the sub's medbay as soon as all the patients were safe to move. It was here that Alex and Lucas found themselves, staring down at Alexis. Her arm had been put back together as well as possible, but to them it still looked like a mess. The doctor closest injected her with a painkiller before approaching them.

"We can save the arm, Alex, but she'll never use it again if we do." The doctor had his face set in stone, firm eyes set on Alex's. And Alex? He looked bored as usual. One of the other doctors joined them, nodding to the first.

"Oh yes," the first doctor said, nodding back, "Dr. Phillips is pushing for
Cyberplasty of the right arm. He's quite adept at it, but we'd like the patient's approval first. We'd also like yours, considering that we're all low on resources here."

Alex nodded. "Of course you have my approval. She's on my team. All of the people on my team are your superiors. They will be giving you orders, and they will have free access to our resources. They only answer to me. You should tell all the other doctors that, as well. When she comes too, offer her the Cyberplasty. Once she learns that she can't shoot without it, I am confident she'll take you up."

The doctors both nodded and immediately pretended to find important things to do, leaving Alex and Lucas standing alone in the triage area. The moans of the wounded sounded and improvised medical machinery hummed softly around them. Lucas put his head in his hands.

"Alex, she had nothing to do with this." He said. Rough hands squeezed soft hair, "She's just a kid, too."

Alex shook his head. "Lucas. She insisted on tagging along. This was her choice. This is the first of many injuries which will be sustained by us. If you have a problem with it, go back to Roger Wilco and be a hitman, or bodyguard, or assassin, or whatever it is you were so busy with you couldn't come check on your 'only friend' when his city went up in smoke."

"Alex, are you mad at me?" Lucas looked back at him with remorseful eyes.

"No." The answer was simple, and short, but the explanation went on forever, "I'm calling your character into question so that you can see how inappropriate your concern over Alexis is. I see poor logic on your part as your declaration of concern over a woman you've hardly met receiving an injury, which will most likely lead to a mechanical enhancement of her abilities in the first place, seems overblown in comparison to your almost blase reaction to the fact that Funky City was attacked and nearly overrun by foreign invaders."

"...Oh." Lucas didn't even try to respond. One sigh later, Alex had disappeared again, this time in search of the others, seeking to know their status in the midst of everything.

Archival seemed to appear at Lucas shoulder with a quiet rustle, rifle still slung over his back, shoulder stiff from where one of the doctors had pulled the splinter of metal out, sterilised the wound and then bandaged it. He looked down at the girl, barely a woman, stretched out in triage, face impassive behind his white moustache.

“Poor lass.” he said simply “She never really knew what it takes out of a person to come out here.” his moustache twitched in irritation at himself for letting her come along before turning to look in the direction Alex had disappeared to. “Seems our employer is a mite snappish at this moment,” he commented, face turning to look at Lucas “perhaps he's got his own issues to think on.”

Chrys was not feeling too good. All that happened today was finally getting to her. She was killing people and almost got raped. She did not even do her job properly. She even lost at only thing she though she was good at. But she was not ready to give up either. She will just have to be better next time.

Once they got on submarine Chrys sort of followed Alexis around. She was feeling responsible for her injury, even knowin that she could not do anything to prevent it. She was also not worried about past and that it could have ended up different. Past cannot be changed but you can work on the future.

Once Alexis got out of the hands of medic, CHrys found somewhere folding chair and sat next to her bed. Whenever someone tried to shoo her off, she just gave them 'the look'. The look that only tall strong and angry woman could give. THanks to that she also listened to conversation of doctors and then talk between Lucas and Alex. Archie then came to them too.

Upon Archies commentary CHrys just said. "She is tough. She will come trough." And looked at those two and then focused on Lucas. "Are you okay Captain Loud?" She asked him with worry in her voice.

All Dimitri had was a small band aid on his left cheek. Something had somehow managed to make it's way there and place a clean cut through it. When he had gotten it or how it had gotten there, he was unaware of, but he decided to call one of the doctors to patch it up anyways.

At the moment he was just smoking one of his cigarettes, both hands in his jeans' pockets, leaning against a wall as he watched the crew unload things from the truck and put them into the submarine with a bored look on his face.

"Fightin' NMX, driving through hell and back... Yep, gotta love charity work." He mentioned to himself as he saw Alexis walk by, his bored look still on, but his bitter sarcasm pouring out of every pore in his body.

Rennik had not yet seen any of the medics, as he was helping the wounded get into and out of the med bay and loading supplies into the cargo hold. The back of his neck was caked in his blood, a result of the wound on the back of his head he suffered from being slammed through the transport truck's back cab window. It was a wound that he found strangely easy to ignore; he supposed that since his injury prevented both Lang and Alexis from going through and possibly dying when the truck flipped, he could manage it.
Rennik also had actively bleeding cuts on both his arms and one on his forehead from the amount of glass that he had been hit with, but he didn't seem to notice. It's not that the injuries weren't painful (oh my they were), but he was too busy and had forgotten to get looked at.

Lang could be found sitting on the Havoc's turret, a wired radio set winding it's cord into the tank's interior. Next to him the tank's commander watched with bemused fascination as Lang ran what was becoming quite the little war from his tank.

Paragon now had three mobilized battalions consisting of tanks, AFVs, and Impulse PA infantry positioned and ready for an assault into the NMX strongholds that dotted Funky City. All the Colonel was waiting for was Alex to release his orders to the city's various militia also positioned and ready for the assault. However with the growing number of contact reports from both his men and the imbedded SCB units time was rapidly running out.

Alex came upon Lang first, carefully waiting for a lull in the Colonel's orders before approaching.

"Colonel." The greeting was short and concise. "I see that you are making adequate preparations. The men are nearly finished with the loading procedures, and after that we'll move the wounded aboard as well as ourselves. We should be underway within the hour. I plan on heading south during the night and circling around to the Western Shoreline before tomorrow morning. Please relocate your positions to best operate in that area. We'll come back for the South Side when I have enough resources to ensure a more causualty-free victory. For now, I want to retake the tenements and offices outside of Argent Towers so we can restore communication to other systems without a relay ship in orbit. There are other tasks in that area, which I will discuss in my briefing tomorrow morning. Aside from that, I leave you free for the evening."

Alex left his words behind him, the entire mouthful expelled without a single dose of gratitude within it. All Lang got from Alex was the usual blank stare, and fierce scratching of the left temple. Now on his way back to the triage, Alex found Rennick helping the crew load supplies into their new home. He placed a firm hand on Rennik's shoulder as he curved around the man and came to a halt between him and the loading operations.

"Cage." Another brief, concise greeting. "You do not need to help these men. This is their job. They will be left to organize the cache tomorrow while we are doing more important things. You should seek medical treatment. Come back to the triage with me."

Still no gratitude, still no acknowledgement. Alex continued trudging through the scattered cargo which was quickly disappearing into the hold of the submarine. Finally, he reached the triage area where Archie, Lucas, Chrys, and Dimitri were gathered near the almost-lifeless corpse of Alexis. The same doctor from before was carefully picking metal and bone fragments from her wound and dropping them into a pan of disinfectant next to him. Alex pulled up a chair next to them, facing the group.

"Everyone should probably go inside soon. With the exception of Alexis, who will be staying in the medical facility, the rest of you will be sleeping in the Officers' Quarters. I will be taking the Captain's Quarters for now, but I plan on moving to the Electronic Warfare Room once I have arranged it to my comfort. Tomorrow morning we will be operating on the Lower West Side, near Argent Towers."

No mention of a job well done. No mention of bravery or heroism. It seemed like this was the way thing were going to be. Lucas let out a sigh and put his hands back in his hair. He muttered just loud enough for those close to him to hear, "I'm not so sure about this anymore."

"wheel let's have a look et ye" one of the medics, an older woman with brown hair worn in a bun, said to Rennik as he sat down on one of the triage beds. A couple of wounded folks were to his right, and to his left was a special curtain separating Alexis (she apparently needed special work).

"Honestly, I'll live" Rennik protested as he tried to get up and forced back down by the surprisingly strong hand of the medic.
"Really, it's nothing I won't recover from; I've had wor-AAUGH!!" he yelled as she began to pull out the tiny glass shards from his right arm.
"Boss says you have ta be patched up, and tha's wot ah will do" she replied as she continued her work "asides, young lad such as yourself ought naught to be taking chances like this. Look at ye, blood coming from every pore, and the back of yer head. No, lad, ye arn't goin' anywhere" she replied, eliciting another yelp from Rennik as she pulled more glass out of him.

Chrys did not raised her head at all. She still sat on her chair and looked at girl lying in the bed helpessly. Chrys did not want to go anywhere. She wanted to stay where she was and watch over Alexis. She wanted to make sure no other harm will came to her.

"I will stay here. Would not by my fist night in the chair. I can also keep eye on stuff and I am worried about lass here." Chrys said still not raising her head. She wanted to stay here.

After another few seconds she repled to Lucas. "No one can be sure about this Lucas," she said dithchinch nickname 'Captain Loud' to make sure she is serious now. "We all fell in this and we are in it together. No walking out of it now. We are needed. And I want to kill as many NMX bastards as I can. It is really simple like that a little tiny vengeance. There is no other reason needed. THey invaded this lands and-" she looked saldy at girl in the bed. "-they hurt people we care about. I do not need more reasons and assurances."

Dimitri looked at the badly hurt co-worker and simply let the used-up cigarette on his lips fall to the ground and proceeded to stomp on it. When he was told to start getting inside the sub, Dimitri turned around and headed to the nearest exit, hands lifting from their positions in his pocket and over to the back of his head.

Hopefully things wouldn't get out of hand tomorrow, though the fact that the rest of the action would be occurring the next day made him wonder how much longer he'd have to stick with these weirdos.

“Do not assume we are all here for the same purpose.” replied Archie, pulling out the scavenged eye from his jacket and admiring it. “Yes, this will do well.” he muttered to himself before tucking it back in. “What can eight people really do against thousands of ID-Sols?”

Alex continued to sit silently beside Alexis, watching the doctor carefully remove more bone fragments and shrapnel. The bedside pan was getting pretty full. The shutter in Alex's implant clicked a few pictures of the proceedure.

"You're not going to be able to save the arm at all, doctor." He said, "There's too much missing for reconstruction and she's in too critical a condition for skin grafts."

The doctor remained silent and continued his work, his face falling slightly. The other doctors nearby had already begun moving the patients up the ramp and into the submarine, all of the vehicles successfully loaded in. Lucas sighed and flattened his hair again before turning to head in with the medical staff. The lumbering ID-Sol didn't announce his departure, simply leaving without a word, and it seemed somewhat purposefully so.

As Lucas left, Sammy and Angelo approached. Sammy pulled up a seat next to Chrys and Angelo next to Alex. Alex regarded them both with a blank stare and the obvious question. "Where is Lyle Clemente? Why isn't he with you?"

The other two men looked between each other briefly. Angelo spoke first. "Mister Clemente didn't have any confidence in the, uh... 'Reliable safety' of the submarine, Mister Foster. I'm not in favor of using his exact words, but I think my explanation suffices."

Sammy went next. "He's holed up in his penthouse in Argent Towers, Alex. He took his underboss and a few stooges and loaded up with all the guns he could before leaving."

"Let me guess." Alex leaned on one arm, toying idly with the cold fingers on Alexis' intact arm. "You two came and tried to rescue us with fancy toys in an attempt to buy your way onto the submarine?"

"No, not me, Alex. Honest." Sammy raised both of his hands. "Lyle told us we could stay with him if we wanted, said we could take a shuttle out of the system with him tommorow night and everything. We wanted to stay here and help. We just didn't know where else to go."

"Hmph." Alex shook his head, the beginnings of a smile forming briefly on his usually still lips. "Very well. You're welcome to stay, but you're just like anyone else now. You'll have to sleep in the crew quarters with the men. My team is occupying the officer's quarters and the only empty rooms in that hall are reserved for my future interests. You will respect them, or you can return to your homes."

Angelo and Sammy exchanged glances once more time before both nodding and silently taking their leave. Alex turned his attention back to Alexis. The doctor had finished his job, and just as Alex had predicted, there wasn't much to work with. With a heavy sigh, the doctor wrapped up the mauled arm in a cast and brace to keep Alexis from moving it.

"You're probably right, Foster." The doc said, gathering his tools. "There's not much we can do right now. She'll probably be up in the night for a little while. We'll have the shift nurse give her the options. If her conditions stabilizes by morning, we can try for skin grafts. But, she'll never use the arm again if we do."

Alex stood and moved away from the table. He looked over all of his new team-mates as he lit a cigarette. As the smoke oozed from his lips, the shutter in his eye clicked several photographs of each of them; he gathered their status, facial expression, fatigue levels, equipment condition, and any other information he could just from looking at them. Then he spoke to all of them: "Aside from Alexis, everyone here preformed adequately today. You completed your objectives and survived in the process. I would like to see more of this in the future. Rest so that tomorrow you may do this again. This way, we can retake the city more efficiently and without any more injuries like the one Alexis received this evening. Do try and not recieve any more injuries, please. Treatment is a tax on our already limited resources."

And just like that, the business transaction was complete. Alex made his way up into the submarine right behind a doctor pushing Alexis on a gurney. The sub's horn sounded and the loudspeaker gargled out a message signifying departure in half-an-hour.

Above, black clouds gathered in the grey sky, and two well-hidden observers stood on a nearby roof. One, an ID-Sol, was using goggles to view everything, while the other, a neko, was peering through the scope of a large rifle. Both were just barely visible as silhouettes even on the roof. With Alex aboard and the others boarding as well, they relaxed their observance and spoke amongst themselves.

"Well, Mister Brown, it seems your efforts to stop them went mostly unrewarded. Perhaps your clones don't preform as well as you do. Or perhaps... no, it couldn't be that... Maybe you're slipping" The dark feline shape giggled, her tail flicking in the moonlight.

"I've got other things in store for them tomorrow. Now that we know they'll be operating on the West Side, we can be ready for them. I can be ready for them."

"I really hope so, Mister Brown. It'd be a shame if you were unprepared for such a weak threat. I might just sneak over to their little boat and kill them all myself. I might have even done so today, had that filthy little girl not shot me. It took me nearly two hours to regenerate that wound!"

Their voices faded in the night as the two of them departed the roof to head back to a pre-arranged meeting place. Soon, the sub departed the dock as well, and all that was left was the sound of crackling embers left over from the flames of the battle before.