| Lucky Day |
| Summary: | Salazar chats with some marines. It's their lucky day! |
| Date: | PH082 (09 July 2009) |
| Related Logs: | Three Hour Tour logs. |
| Players: |
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Scorpia, Bunker, Reception
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #81
OOC Time: Thu Jul 09 14:43:20 2009
The area marked 'Reception' is actually a large kill-zone. Specific lanes of fire have been established against the ladder and it's ramp area that lead to the surface. Along each concrete wall are firing ports which are accessible via armored doors at the rear of the room. Near the exit, opposite from the ladder and ramp, is a large desk that has a sloped front - presumably to deflect incoming attacks and the associated ordnance. The desk is empty except for a few unlit computer terminals. There are some secured storage containers lined against the walls with a variety of serial numbered markings. There is also a large metal placard secured to the wall above the desk.
Salazar hops down from the ladder, coming in from a brief jog around the perimeter. She carries her rifle slung over her shoulder. Despite soreness, she seems to be doing a lot better. She heads down the hall, in the direction of the hub. Destination: Unknown.
McTiernan has found herself a spot on the floor, out of the way, to spread out some paper, atop which is her dismantled rifle. She's working her way through a clean of said rifle.
"Lieutenant." Salazar slows, and pauses near the marine and her rifle on the floor. Sal takes a lean against the wall, and watches the cleaning for a moment.
"Salazar" is offered in return by McT. she's made up her own cleaning kit, it seems. As she finishes pulling a cloth from the barrel, she glances up and offers a nod of her head.
"I'm going to evac with the military," the ex-marine notes. Salazar drops to a crouch next to the marine, and takes a knee, her arm draped over it. "I understand you've lost a few men. How do you figure the CMC would feel about a war time re-up?"
McTiernan wrinkles up her nose a touch as she begins to put her weapon back together. "I think it'll depend a lot on what those of here have to say on your behalf."
There's a small smile from the black haired woman. "They shouldn't have anything negative to say." Considering she hasn't been around all that much. Weeks of solitary recon ftw. "I was a Sergeant with the CMC before a medical discharge a few years back. After rehab, I intended to re-up. Seems like as good a time as any." She moves to rise. "I'll drop my files by JAG."
McTiernan nods as her hands work. "I'll look forward to reading over it. I seldom turn away those who know how to do their jobs. Especially now." She gives the other woman a brief nod before turning back to her work.
Salazar nods, "Good deal. Thank you, Lieutenant." The tattooed woman moves on, resuming her earlier quest to the bowels of the barracks. Her footsteps fade off down the hall.
Scorpia, Bunker, Medical
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #81
OOC Time: Thu Jul 09 15:21:29 2009
The sickbay here in the SATCOMM bunker is nothing fancy at all. This is especially true when looking at the bare shelves and cabinets. A pair of beds sit on each side of the room, giving the personnel here room to hold four patients. A couple of cabinets are built into the walls for storage while a desk sits near the door. Small supply crates are stacked against the wall at the rear of the room, the serial numbers doing nothing to identify the secured contents inside.
The hatch opens, and in walks Salazar. Her rifle is slung over her shoulder, hair a bit damp from the drizzle outside. The ground is muddy out there, owing to a huge storm last night. Her boots left most of it in the hall. She slings her rifle off of her shoulder, and tosses it onto an empty gurney, of which there are few.
Ashe lays on his medical bed as he has since the day he was drug back with the critical bullet wounds in his chest. Much like that first day, his chest rises and lowers in slow shallow breaths that hint at the struggle of his body.
Our hero, Dutch is still on his bed. Ain't likely to be going anywhere, any time soon. After all his belly still feels like shit, and his shoulder hurts worse than a mother frakker. Arm's been slung up and a pillow put under to elevate and cushion. Eyes almost seem glassy either from the drugs they pumped into him, or the pain. Still the Sergeant is awake, at least. Probably its hard to fully rest or recover here. Specially with that Doc.
Yeah, that Doc. Salazar's only on her feet because of a unique combination of self medication and a pretty killer pain threshold. She makes her way over to take a seat between the beds of the riddled and reclined marines. "Boys." One or more might sleep through it, but that's ok. "You're in luck today. The Gods must be smiling upon you."
A noise comes from Ashe, half grunt, half moan, half gas. The young Marine stirs a bit where he lays but doesn't seem to react much other to the voices yapping nearby.
Dutch turns a glassy-eyed look over towards Salazar and there's a faint grunt as he tries to get comfortable. "Hey, sugar-tits.." murmured softly, before he's craning his head a little more in order to get a better look at her. Not the tits though-those he's seen, right? "How so, I'm gonna get frakked by a Vestal virgin?"
If Salazar always expected a reaction when she spoke, she wouldn't date men. Ever. The ex-marine tips back in her chair, and kicks her feet crossed at the ankles. "Nope, but I'm evaccing with you fine specimens. If all goes well, I'll be joining your lazy duty outfit."
Another grunt comes from Ashe and then an extremely scratchy dry voice speaks from him. "Great. More frakin' people in my space."
"Oh Good." Elder mutters as eyes close for a bit. One would think he's asleep except for the stirring as he shifts in his bed. "You can share my bunk if there's no room. I don't kick or snore." a grumble "So what rank were you?"
Salazar glances over at Ashe. "You look like shit warmed over and kicked." She leans in a little. "Kinda smell like it too." She slouches back in her chair and says to Dutch, "I kick and bite. I'm not sure you could take it." She runs a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her eyes. "I was a sergeant, Sergeant. Back in the day."
"I'm only a pussy when it comes to bullets. Bitches don't scare me." Dutch reports from his place of well-pain and mending. Yes, being shot sucks. And it sucks even more when your doctor bitches about smoking cigarettes. A nod there for a moment "Yeah, you talk like you had balls. Figure you were something. Either a Corporal with a head on her shoulders, or a Sergeant."
It seems after his little barb, Ashe has drifted back off to the land of sleep and chest pains.
"You've been snuggling all the wrong bitches, Sarge." She kicks back in her seat, fishes the very short stogie from her pocket, and fires it up with a lighter from another. She's been smoking that thing off and on for a couple of days. If Alyssa walks in, that's just a bonus. "How's the pain? Slice and Dice keeping you in Morpha?"
"Only ones that want a piece of this are metallic and don't wear lipstick." mutters Dutch as he watches the other Sergeant, or ex sergeant. Either way there's a motion with his good hand for the cigar she's got, at least a drag. She can't deny a cripple can she? "Eh, half in and out on the pain. Have had worse, but it got numbed more times than I have here. I think firecrotch is afraid we'll take it all from her."
"That's the saddest frakkin' thing I ever heard," Salazar replies, with a little smirk. She plucks the stogie from her lips and hands it over to the Sergeant. "Firecrotch. Nice. I'll have to remember that one." She turns her chair slightly to face Dutch's bed, since Ashe has slipped off into lala land again. She licks her legs crossed and watches the marine.
"Ain't it just?" Dutch adds on before taking his time to palm the cigar. Smoke brought to his lips, a slight chew on the end, but that's habit. Deep puff, before he's exhaling the flavor of the smoke, and all. But the lingerance? Its frakkin' beautiful. "This has to be one of the Gunny's. No way they keep good shit like this on Scorpia." And he moves to palm it back to her. "Please do, I want to see what happens if someone calls her that.
"That's from the Master Sarge's private stash," Salazar replies. The big marine is asleep across the way, and no utterance comes from him regarding his cigars. "I'll give her a going away salutation. Should be amusing for at least twelve seconds." She reaches over to take the cigar, and tucks it into her mouth. "How's the digs on the Kharon?"
"Not too bad. Ain't big like an assault star or a battlestar." Dutch replies. A glance is spied to the sleeping MGST, before he is looking back towards Salazar. A quirked grin and he is shaking his head for a moment. "Like a transport ship-more room though."
"I'm looking forward to a change of scenery," Salazar notes, a puff of smoke escaping her lips. "It'll be good to be surrounded by marines again." Chances are good she didn't enjoy her last few months in the center of civilian land. Before the bombs, she was at least surrounded by ruthless criminals. It's all a matter of perspective. "Your arrival is fortuitous." She jerks a thumb toward Dutch. "Aside from all the bullet holes."
Dutch chuckles, but the twist in his lips shows that something hurt doing that. All the same he's nodding while his good hand smoothes over his stomach, before he offering a grin. "Never been told that." Dutch admits. Usually when marines are present all the pilots bitch about how awesome they are, and then commence in a wing wide circlejerk. "Glad to have you on board-if you re up. Could use another Sergeant-so I can do my damned job."
Salazar reaches over to pat the big marine's arm. She sits in a chair next to Dutch's bed, a cigar tucked into the corner of her mouth. It smolders with the occasional puff. "First time for everything, Sarge." She grins a bit, and tips back in her chair again, her hand sliding off of his arm. "Don't look at me to herd your cats. I'll just drown 'em."
Dutch shakes his head "Apparently, its my thirty third time to be shot again. Or some shit like that.." grumbled out as he turns slightly. Well as best as he can without wrenching his arm or body any. "I'm a Corpsman- I'm supposed to patch the cats not lead them valiantly into the enemy's guns. Too old for that Shit. But our last Sergeant, thought it would be fun to go running head long. Like a gods damned medal you get cause you're wounded helps. Blew his brains all over the gods damned bulkhead…"
"That's… colorful," Salazar replies with a little nod of her head. She regards the Sgt for a silent moment, her eyes on his movements. Silent appraisal. "I've been operating solo for a long time. You let me know if I forget how to play nice with others, hear?"
The door opens slowly and Alyssa walks in, again doing her rounds, checking those who are in. Noting that Salazar and Dutch are talking, she does her best to not walk between them, going first, as always, to Ashe.
"It was a bitch to scrape off." Apparently Dutch doesn't hold for sanctity of the dead, or its a coping mechanism to simply be as brazen with it as he is. All the same he's looking back to her and a nod. "I will. I bark a lot, so if you can frakking take it, you should be fine." There's a glance over towards Ashe's bed before he's looking back towards Salazar-as if to say there's your chance. "I'll just be happy to not be lying in bed with a thumb up my ass, and my hand on my dick."
"Haven't met a marine yet I couldn't take," Salazar replies, raising her arms over her head. She laces her fingers, and drops them to the back of her neck. "There are worse places for your hands to be. Less you neglected to tell me your equipment lacks full functionality." Oh, marine talk. "Hey, Firecrotch," Salazar greets the doctor, nodding to her over Ashe's prone form.
An eyebrow raises up as Alyssa takes in that greeting, but her lips form a bit of a smile as she stands away from Ashe, walking around towards the two talking marines. "Looks like you're in good spirits," she says, the smile staying put on her face. "So you're gonna give up this paradise and start taking orders shipside, I heard…"
Dutch snickers from where he is sitting, but then a wince and he shifts again on the bed, ever so mindful of his wounds. "I wouldn't call this paradise-Kid." the Sergeant adds in. "Because an irradiated landscape with killer robots is not a frakking paradise. Its short of Hades."
"Like I was saying the other day," Sal nods to Alyssa, confirming the observation, "I'm in a fighting mood." She glances away, dark eyes squinting a little. "I'm not ready to rebuild. I'll come home when I am." Home being Scorpia, of course. "Taking orders is like riding a biker. You never forget."
Fenris murmurs somewhat and slowly starts to reawaken. One of her hands absently settles near the bandages of her thigh, while the LT starts to sit up. She rubs at the bridge of her nose then and turns her attention to the others in the room as they discuss Hades and it's relevance to the locale, "Short of Hades is a little more moist." she says distantly.
"I was never very used to taking orders…" Alyssa admits, turning to take a look at Dutch's wounds. "I earned my transfer to the Pegasus after telling an Admiral that if he tried to play Pyramid with that bunch of Marines again, I was going to prescribe a wheelchair for him afterwards instead of fixing all his hernias." She chuckles. "Hades is death. We've got food, beds, and green grass if we're crazy enough to go outside." Giving a nod to Fenris as the pilot starts to awaken, she looks down at Dutch. "If you'd like, I could give you a half dose of Morpha for the pain. Won't knock you out, and could take the edge off…"
"And you're an officer.. Explains a lot." Dutch mutters before he is looking Alyssa as if she was odd. Still There's a look over towards Salazar for a moment. "Just do what you need to. I ain't moving any time soon." that is till the evac his ass out of here.
Salazar snickers at Dutch's comment. Oh, marines. She looks over to Dutch and nods slightly, amusement in her eyes. "Try not to pop anything until we hit the LZ, Sarge. You're a big man, and I'm not sure I can carry ya." Good thing Lem and Parts are strapping young lads. They're going to have to make due getting Ashe and Dutch to the location about four miles away. She glances over toward the pilot that's stirred. "Good to see you up and around." Well, around, anyway.
Fenris nods, "Thank you." she says distantly, looking around, "Has anything else happened?" she wonders of them. The pilot makes a couple of experimental flexings of her leg, which, while uncomfortable, are more or less tolerable for now, but she doesn't try to actually get off the rack yet.
Alyssa actually laughs before giving the morpha injection. "I'm a Doctor, Dutch, and was one for three years before I enlisted. Now, I'm a military doctor. Means I add an 'L' and a 't' after the 'd' and the 'r', but not a whole lot changed. I don't like seeing people hurt, and so I tell them the best way to be not hurt anymore. Some listen" She looks him in the eye. "A lot of others don't. Not much changed, all in all… though the pay is worse." With a shrug, she walks over to examine the leg wound. "Do you feel up to putting weight on it, eltee?"
"We have orders to evac in a couple hours." She glances at her watch, then Sal rises to go fetch her rifle from across the room. "I'll be strolling out to recon the LZ with Dover." She's pushing the departure time a little. "Don't work too hard, Doc." She nods to Fenris, then looks back to Dutch, "See you soon, Sarge." A hand is lifted in a wave, then she grabs her rifle and heads out. Abrupt. Hey, that's her.
