FangedSmile
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Post by FangedSmile on Jul 14, 2016 19:20:42 GMT -6
Damsel arrived at the taco shop in casual attire instead of her uniform. She had the train schedule already up on her holo-mod, a backpack tight across her back and s small suitcase rolling behind her. Kalista sat in her hair- which she'd pulled back into a fancier hairdo. She told herself it was just in preparation for the heat... but she'd spent twenty minutes working on it.
When she spotted her new partner she felt a smile instead of the usual grin-and-bear-it gut reaction she'd felt in the past. Somehow, this felt more like her first mission. Everything felt so new and shiny and she didn't know what to expect. It was a great feeling.
She sat opposite him and pulled the suitcase tight against her leg. "I figured out what train we're on," she explained. Only three left the station each day anyway, so it wasn't all that impressive. It was too dangerous to try and keep track of many more trains and people didn't really travel outside their own towns much anyway. Not in a world where fierce monsters were waiting to slaughter you at any moment. "I never like the late night ones," she admitted. It never felt great to be in a metal box traveling on a narrow track past destroyed towns and other scenes of battles mankind had lost against the creatures around them. Doing it at night when predators were their most active? Even less fun.
"But," she rallied. "It looks like there will be four security teams on it so if anything happens we won't have to kill ourselves defending civilians." She heard that comment after she'd said it and realized it sounded a bit awful. She realized then how unaccustomed she had become to having a partner. She'd been on trains what had problems. If they were under-defended then everyone looked to the meisters to put their lives on the line and defend it. To her, that always felt unfair. It was the train company that should be responsible for hiring enough security personnel, after all. Sure, they gave the university students and all meisters a huge discount and reserved cabins... but that shouldn't have been a reason for them to get off with hiring less armed security. That was the growing trend, though.
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B. B. Wolf
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Post by B. B. Wolf on Jul 19, 2016 23:49:08 GMT -6
Graves was debating on whether or not to buy another taco when Damsel sat down across from him. She said something about a train. He was pretty sure she followed that with something about nights. He didn't quite hear that though, because he was incredibly distracted by her new hairstyle which, while quite attractive in its own right, showed off the incredibly smooth skin and gentle curves of her neck in the most fascinating way. He was startled out of his examination however, at the mention of civilians. He had to go back over what was said so he didn't make more of a fool of himself than he already probably had.
"Yeah, no, the less civilians the better. If we do encounter enemies in transit it'll be nice to know we can concentrate on destroying them instead of keeping them away from non-combatants," he replied. Graves never really minded defending others, but in his mind defense left you at the mercy of your surroundings. He liked to be able to move from spot to spot, making himself a harder target to hit. He frowned at his holo-mod as he activated it and searched for their mission file, trying not to distract himself by looking at his partners face. Or neck. Or hair. Or anything else for that matter. Itzel was absentmindedly chewing on the last of her final fish taco, keeping a wary eye on Damsel and her sneak-attack pats.
"Good thing you got that info though, that'll help decide what last minute supplies we might need. Speaking of, let's check out this mission brief and get some ideas brewing. I'd hate to go into this whole thing with cold f..." Graves trailed off as he scrolled through the mission brief. He continued to scroll and the frown lines in his face deepened until he was finally scowling at the projected words.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered. Danger on high, indeed. Rescue missions were common place. People ended up in places they weren't supposed to be all the time. Sometimes they were put in those places by other people. Sometimes, they were put in those places by other people, with other people. They could be quite difficult, but that factor increased tenfold with each additional hostage. To rescue at least four or more individuals would be incredibly difficult for a full security team and multiple meisters. Unfortunately, for Graves, he and Damsel didn't get a full security team. And the at least part of that made him worry. Had some hostages been killed already? Or were there only those four noteworthy names? Either way, with just the two of them, it seemed a sure bet that not all of them would make it back alive.
Then again, Damsel might have a few good suggestions for this mission. His earlier trepidation forgotten, Graves looked straight into Damsels eyes.
"We have four names here, and it looks like there might be more. I know you ran a good number of escort missions for some high society types, any of these names or faces stand out to you? Any info you have on them could be a boon, and if they see a familiar face they might be more inclined to cooperate with us."
That was another thing about rescues that Graves had learned. If they thought you were some plot cooked up by whoever had snatched them, there wasn't a thing you could do to convince them to come with you. Graves only hoped it didn't come to that.
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FangedSmile
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Post by FangedSmile on Jul 22, 2016 15:32:04 GMT -6
At the reply, Damsel could tell he hadn't fully been listening to her. A part of her, noticing his gaze, was pleased about this. The other part reminded her that she did just start talking immediately instead of sitting down and partaking in social niceties like a normal human being who knew how to talk to people. Before she could chastise herself, however, his mood switched. The conversation took an unexpected turn and her senses heightened in sudden stress.
Meeting his gaze, Damsel stared back with a passive smile. From her perch, Kalista was keeping a lookout for anyone listening in on the conversation and emitting a metallic hum that was just a bit too high-pitched for humans but made listening devices about as useful as a water balloon during a hurricane. People trying too hard to listen even without a device would only get a headache and a ringing in their ears that wouldn't fade for a few hours. When she was satisfied she dropped the hum into the audible range for a moment and then brought it back up.
Still, Damsel was cautious. She glanced at the names and slowly began to understand the sudden shift in atmosphere. Of the four names she was shown, she knew three of them. The first was a client from last month. He was the son of a dignitary but had a lot of political pull on his own. His shortcoming was that he kept himself so busy and traveled so often that he really only met people whose only goal was to either piss him off or kiss his ass. The second was a client from a few months ago. She had escorted him to more than one event at different consulates and knew his company held sway all over the world and provided all the weapons used for protection on trains across the planet. His father technically owned the company, but the son was the inventor.
The third, however, was what made this mission even more confusing. She was a dutchess... at the moment. Damsel knew, however, that she was in tight courtship to the future king of Azuroth- a wealthy country much like German at the height of its power.
"Some repeat customers," she replied with a sigh before sitting back in her chair. "Though that fourth one I have only heard about and the third is just an acquaintance." She crossed her left leg over her right, folded her arms and took a look around.
Most of the people around there were already engaged in loud conversations about who did what, where, and when, as well as how they reacted to it and judged the person by those actions. Typical gossip that really helped in determining who was involved in subterfuge. Most people with any tact did not bitch about other people in public unless the gossip was just designed to create white noise. Though, unless they were all skilled actors, the performances were convincing enough for Damsel.
Others were discussing classes, sharing club events, talking animatedly about plans for the weekend, or hitting on each other. She brought up her own holo-mod and sent out a quick text to Nik. The reply she got back immediately just told her not to bother people and expressed absolutely no interest in discussing her latest babysitting mission while trying to enjoy his time off. Considering how people complaining actually seemed to make that prick feel even smugger, it was an odd reply. Add to the fact that he told her to stop bothering people, not just him? Well, that was completely out of character. His statement of time off was something else. He never got time off. He was a massive pain in the ass, but he was skilled enough to be kept on board with the handoff of being constantly busy. No one would stand for him enjoying vacation time. At least, that was her opinion.
Looking around again, she noticed there were more people around the campus lately. Too many. Things began feeling crowded and stuffy.
"They're not a patient lot," she intoned wish a casual shrug and an eye roll. "Are you all packed? Should we go to your dorm?"
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B. B. Wolf
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Post by B. B. Wolf on Aug 15, 2016 23:50:08 GMT -6
Graves eyes widened slightly at her reply. Acquaintance or not, to have met a dutchess was pretty impressive in his book. Especially if it meant a familiar face for the hostages. A familiar face would go a long way to calming some of them down and making them more pliant. Still, it didn't say anything about their condition. Some groups like these only required that their hostages stay alive. 'Unharmed' has wiggle room.
Graves stood up, flashing Itzel a quick stream of reds and dark golds, followed by a dark amber, but showing no outward actions. The reds and golds meant to hurry and be ready to move out, the black was the situation level, all at the speed of thought. Itzel immediately finished her fish taco and slithered out of the chair. She fluffed her wings once, brushing awfully close to Damsel's face before taking off. One flap to get into the air, and another sent her soaring off into the sky.
"No, I'm good to go. Have everything I need here," he said as he slung his backpack on. Becoming lost in thought, Graves reached out to get Damsels chair out of habit. He had plenty of lunches with Ms. Goldfield (which always terrified him) and she insisted on being treated like the lady she was. Graves complied mainly out of fear of dismemberment, but those outings left him with a few good habits. What occupied his attention now, however, was the group. With the problem of the captives being willing to follow them dealt with for the moment, Graves turned his attention toward the radical group in question. They'd been in the news quite a bit recently. A group of zealots that used their religion as a flimsy excuse to cause mass terror. Graves had always thought that they must be a small group, because they'd never made any large scale attacks. Bombings here and there, the occasional shootout, and videos posted for everyone to see. Of course, there was no telling what they'd actually done as opposed to what they claimed credit for. And to pick a rainforest to hide out in. Perhaps they were hoping the terrain would be enough to throw off all but the most determined hunters? That would certainly make it difficult to get a good satellite image of the base or any idea for a number of soldiers.
Graves knew how he could find out. Probably fairly quickly. But he was loathe to do it. He tried to leave the gang behind him. He tried so hard. But it seemed like no matter what, they were always there. At least this time he'd be calling in one of his own favors. Already paid forward. Still...
With a frown, he decided to wait. If push came to shove, he'd call them. But until it was absolutely necessary, he'd do his best to stay out of their pocket.
"Let's hit that train, shall we?"
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FangedSmile
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Post by FangedSmile on Sept 12, 2016 23:57:00 GMT -6
Damsel smiled at him as he got her chair for her. That was a rare trait she thought spoke well of him, and since they didn’t really have a lot of time to get accustomed to each other before the shit hit the fan, she figured any positive feelings were a good thing. If they had already began to hate each other… Well, it would be a very long mission indeed.
It was a strange feeling though. She was used to putting on an act, but this one felt so thick. Usually, it was just a fake smile she had to remind herself to bring into her eyes. A laugh. Pretending to care about small talk. Just normal social niceties of the upper class. Laugh when they think they’re witty, smile when they think they’re charming, nod when they talk about how they own the world, and smirk conspiratorially when they lean in to share some dirty bit of gossip that really just made her glad she didn’t have to live among them every day of her life.
This, however, was a more threatening act. Like a slack rope, each step felt like a fight against swaying, tipping footing that had to be countered delicately. She wanted to pull it tighter and at least have the security of a narrow, though stable, path. She just wasn’t sure how. She moved unhurriedly, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and pulling it easily along beside her as she went. A few people stopped her to talk about an assignment; another asked if she was going to a campus party that evening even though they could plainly see that she had a suitcase! The Italian part of her heritage was cursing up a storm at every interruption. It felt a thousand times pettier to have to listen to someone bitching about textbook costs or the fact that the coffee shop hadn’t renewed its contract and the new one charged $2 more for dairy-free options when she knew there were, at that very moment, people being held hostage.
The rope swayed more as people who absolutely never talked to her were suddenly so interested in hearing her opinion on teachers or fashion trends or the new fountain instillation. When she finally couldn’t take it anymore and felt ready to burst they arrived at the station and slipped past the ticket counter with a wave of their holomods to activate a sensor looking for tickets.
The train was gleaming- having just gone through a pressure washer that was designed to pry Lashers and other nasty monsters off the train before they could try and sneak onto the campus. It was unnecessary, in her opinion, seeing as they would have found themselves outnumbered by Gemanima meisters and their partners. But, it was law for every station to have at least that security feature, so she felt very little desire to argue it.
Instead, she decided to be glad they were away from the majority of the other students. The train yard, in fact, was almost completely deserted. The station workers were busy checking the train over for any repair needs; the security forces were crawling around checking the mounted weaponry and disaster cases; and the train crew was resupplying and helping passengers find their cabins or seats- depending on the tickets.
There was a private car for students of the university, but Damsel didn’t feel like using it- just in case. She turned to the ticket window and, through some diplomacy and a reluctant display of her platinum card, secured them a private sleeper cabin with two beds and enough luxury to outprice or at least draw suspicion towards anyone else who would make such a purchase in order to listen in on them.
She mumbled some excuse about saved up mission funds and blackmail on the University President’s son when she returned to Graves and pushed a ticket into his hand. “Once in a lifetime,” she encouraged with a grin she had practiced enough to feel comfortable with its level of perceived realism, before hurrying onto the train and following one of the staff members.
Their cabin looked like a small joint bedroom with one bed laid out horizontally to face a widow. And end table was positioned next to the foot of the bed, and then the bed Kieran was sitting on stretched vertically along the window, opposite a thin desk and a closet. Unlike come of the cabins they had passed, where the beds were the only things in the cabins and were positioned bunkbed style with 4 to a cabin. Another difference was that this cabin did not have thin vinyl covered mattresses with the generic white bedding with the navy blue blankets emblazoned with the name of the train on them and one decent-enough pillow.
Instead, their beds were actual mattresses with a multi-layer bedding set that was to make them still easy to keep sanitary while providing a lot more padding- as well as warmth, comfort, and style. The theme was still navy blue, but with silvers thrown in, and a diamond pattern across the comforters, which reflected the light just enough to showcase their expensiveness.
In the small hall leading to the beds themselves, the noticed a small station for washing up and a closet that possibly had a toilet and shower in it. She opened the closet and found she was right. She shut the small door and turned to watch shades slide down over the windows. Advertising, to the monsters outside, that the cabins were occupied was never a good idea. So shades went down and lights dimmed before and during travel.
“Okay,” she murmured, taking a seat on one of the beds. “So how much shit are we in?”
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B. B. Wolf
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Post by B. B. Wolf on Dec 5, 2016 21:01:39 GMT -6
Graves hung back a little from Damsel on their way to the train. She seemed like a nice girl, and he didn't want to tarnish her reputation should someone recognize him. Which, he'd come to the conclusion some time earlier, she did not. Or she did a very good job at not letting that show. He did, however, have an amused smile on his face as he saw how many people stopped to talk with her. She didn't do quite as good a job hiding her feelings about those interruptions. The forced smiles, halfway terminated eyerolls, and gritted teeth seemed pretty obvious to him, but her 'friends' were pretty oblivious. Graves, for once, didn't have any trouble.
He was surprised when, instead of boarding immediately, Damsel used some sort of strange, diplomatic voodoo to acquire private rooms. She muttered something about saving, maybe something about blackmail, and then that "Once in a lifetime opportunity," with one of those fake smiles. He just shrugged his shoulders and motioned her to go first onto the train. Itzel swooped down and slithered in behind them, startling one of the other passengers. Graves was suitably impressed with the room. When he sat on the bed he could feel it pulling him, tempting him to take just a short nap. Oh, how he wanted to. The pillows looked soft and inviting, the blankets warm and cozy, the-
"Okay," Damsel interrupted his thoughts, "How much shit are we in?"
Well if that wasn't as bad as a bucket of cold water right down the pants, he didn't know what would be. But, it was time to be honest.
"Our file says 'at least' four, and gives only those names. That could mean that there are others there that aren't as high a priority, or that there are others there that they don't want the public to know about. Someone that maybe these terrorists don't even know about."
Graves took a deep breath, not liking the last option he was about to voice.
"Or, it could mean some of them have already been killed. If that's the case, we don't have the luxury of doing full reconnaissance. The real problem lies in how little we know about their base of operations. I mean," he gestured hopelessly at his holomod, "all we have is a general location and number of targets."
Graves brought up their mission intel, what little of it there was, and started going through it again. Of course, he was exaggerating a little bit, but not by much. They knew there was an enemy presence there, but not how many, or their firepower. They would be going into this pretty much blind, and Graves didn't like it one bit. Still, at least Damsel had Kalista. She was small enough she could probably get anywhere she needed without getting caught. Itzel could do flybys and pass as one of the local predators. It wouldn't be the first time she'd done that. Unfortunately, the more he looked at it, the more he felt like his only option was to use his... Previous contacts. He looked at Damsel, hoping against hope she might have another option.
"Any ideas?"
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