Road To Paros
Road To Paros
Summary: Down on Scorpia, some of the marines and resistance set out to Paros.
Date: PH074 (01 July 2009)
Related Logs: Let There Be Light.
Players:
Dutch..Angelica..Ashe..Damon..NPCs..Cylons..

Scorpia, Route 91, Near Paros

IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #74
OOC Time: Wed Jul 01 22:05:45 2009


Abandoned and empty. Route 91 is mostly devoid of vehicles through this relatively short section of roadway that runs between Highway 606 to the West and the city of Paros to the East. Structures are more common along the roadway nearer to Paros but die off quickly within a couple miles. The lush green forests to the North and West seem to kept at bay by the edges of Paros, fields of grass covering the undeveloped terrain.


Moving along with the others is Swift. For once he seems relatively focused on the task at hand although compared to the others he is certainly a bit behind. The moving quietly is not the issue but the distance is wearing on him over time causing his breathing to get a bit heavier. Whenever the chance to stop or pause comes up, his eyes retreat to the heavens in thought.

Angel has settled into the group, moving quickly and quietly. Yes, she managed to keep up with the big boys. Her weapon is at the ready, her body kept low, as small a target as possible.

Dutch turns his head for a moment as the Private gives a sign, and so he simply raises his hand back. All stop "Mithras.." A mutter, before the Sergeant is moving up, in a quick pace over to where Parts has himself crouched. Dutch goes to a knee has his rifle is brought to the ready. "What do you see?" Because Dutch? he can't see shit.

Along the highway, over half way to Paros, right down the freakin' center, in the dark of night, comes a hulking forms. Apparently he didn't learn robot subtlety in robot death kill class. The moonlight glints from their frames now and again. Incoming. The very perceptive might also note some familiar whirrclunk noises from the forest edge, closer to the group, but a few dozen feet into the treeline.

Dutch is keeping his eyes peeled, before he is looking back over towards the tree line. A raise of his brows before he is looking back to the others, a motion is made to Ashe. Simply it seems they have little to no cover, but he's moving to lie on the other side of the road "Cover-cover" spat out, softly. Either way Dutch ain't taking chances "Frakkin shit.." Safety off, ready to roll

Seeing the motion for cover, Ashe relays it to the others nearby and slinks his way back to find a bit of foilage and rocks to get snuggly with while flipping his own safety off. Checking ammo clips he preps his rifle and begins to watch to see where the others are setting up their attacks at.

As soon as Dutch flips his safety off, Angel's doing the same thing. She finds herself a nice spot for cover, head down, gun up. Trees are her friend.

There's a groan when a shot tags Dutch in the chest. And eyes remain on the incoming toasters before he's moving a hand from checking his wound. A quick motion made before he's firing right back towards the second one, where the shot came from. "Gods damned.." he mutters A spit of blood, As he lets the gun rattle off in a burst.

As shots start ringing out, Ashe waits and then notices the second target. His rifle swings and he begins to open fire as it seems that the Centurions are more focused on the others in the group.

Angel cries out quietly in pain as she gets hit in the general vicinity of her collar bone. Armor is a good thing, it helps. But damn that bullet hurt. She's going to be colorful in the morning. With no serious injury, she keeps shooting, switching to the other target. Pissy hot chick with a gun.

Dutch is hit again, which causes him to sing out. There's a look. Leaking out his damned chest and his arm. A look is given over to Parts, as with a grunt, he is slowly rising up from where he was positioned "Clear?" called with a wheeze, but then there's no time to worry about that "Swift, you alright?" He might be speaking too soon, but right now he's trying to tie off his arm for a second.

Angel makes not another sound until she's crept over to Dutch, rifle still slung over her chest. "You're hit," she says quietly. "Let me see it, please?"

"I'm fine." Swift asks and calls out. "The rest of you? Civ?" He shakes his head. "Sarge, why don't you fall back some with the others, get patched and make sure nothing is going to bleed to bad. I'll secure up front a bit with Parts."

The heavy and swift footsteps of the running re-inforcements are easily heard approaching fast from the East. It sounds like one or two, but their footfalls are pretty well in concert, so it's hard to say. It isn't long before visual confirmation is possible. Hide and pray they don't search or mow them down as fast as possible? The options are limited, and only one is realistic!

"In A sec LC, I can still raise my gun, we need to connect with the others..Sides I fall back too far now and I'll lead a damned cherry trail.." mutters Dutch for a second, There's a look over towards Angelica " Frak," a push of the girl away "incoming.." muttered as his gun is raising , He's going to be firing, like any Marine should be.

Hearing the incoming, Ashe tosses a glance at the other injured and bringing rifle to his hip, moves forward. He isn't intending to just sit back and cover but rather to attempt to draw fire himself. A split second before however, his eyes cast upwards towards the sky to catch a starred reflection, a twinkle, then he's rushing with rifle firing towards the oncoming metal.

"Keep it on!" comes the shout from the Sergeant as one unlucky Tincan goes down, the other, is suddenly in his focus, as the rifle is swung around to take on the incoming Centurion's parnter. his rifle barking out a steady stream of fire. No, Dutch is not taking this shit lightly.

These two Centurions seem in no mood to play footsie. There's a hellatious spray of rounds as both machine gun armed robots open up full auto. One is cut short by the ridiculously deadly head shot of one Pvt. Parts. He's in no mood for uppity death bots. Rifle rounds ping off of the other centurion, who remains at a run into the frey despite the abrupt stop of his companion. Man, hope they weren't hetero metal life mates.

Angel gets pushed aside in favor of Centurions. Gotta love it. Men apparently like metal. Ahhh, but it's for a good cause. And so she goes to town again, shooting. Everyone else is shooting #4. Angel? She's drawing the fire of #3.

While the first Centurion is going down, Ashe is heading towards the second, still in his run with rifle opening fire towards the metal. The whole time, the words that are pouring out of Swift's mouth are swallowed up by the sound of gunfire.

Nope, Angel's not a happy girl. She continues, though, to fire on the Centurion, lips thin and set.

Pvt. Parts takes a light hit to his gut, but his armor mostly protects him. He grunts out, and rocks back to stand with his rifle carefully aimed. "Shouldn't have done that," he says, under his breath.

Bullets seem to ping off the bastard, but that isn't stopping the shaking Sergeant's aim, or rate of fire, as he continues to fire off in the three round burst towards the bastard. Here's hoping he doesn't change targets, giving the magnetism that Old Dutch is having tonight.

Ashe is getting far to dangerously close on his collision course of running with the Centurion. Fortunately metal face has really seemed to care so Swift keeps on trying to stay out of the fire lines of those behind him, letting shot after shot ring out keeping a close mental count of his clip.

As bullets from all locations pelt the Centurion, Ashe lets his own shots work their way up before finally skidding to a stop as the metal goes down. Walking over, he looks at the Cylon and resting his rifle against the band of the head that shown red before, he pulls the trigger with a last pop. Whatever he was muttering has come to a halt and he looks down, unscathed. "Frakin' brat. Stop guarding me." Turning, he starts to walk back towards the others.

The last Centurion goes down and Dutch is coming out of his crouch with a grunt. One roll of his shoulder, as the blood trickles down. "Reload, reload!" called out. A glance over his shoulder for a moment. Spitting Dutch's starting to move out again. 'Ok, We're almost that ways, we're making the frakking recon…Lets roll it out."

Angel moves up to flank Dutch, glancing up at his wound. She doesn't, however, broach the subject of treating it again - she just pulls up at his side, her gun already reloaded.

There is no more fire from the trees, no sounds of those heavy steps coming to intercept the marines and resistance. The way back to the bunker is slightly longer than the way into Paros. The night is still, in the wake of all the gunplay, quiet. Very, very quiet. Or is it?

"You fraks ok?" Ashe asks back towards the others sounding rather pissed off in tone as he moves towards them, reloading his rifle with a fresh clip. He pats his pocket, where Fork resides and nods a bit.

Moving alongside the fight, having been the fool to run in the direction of the gunfire, Damon hefts his assault rifle as he flanks along the side of the group. Having arrived just at the end of it, he remains crouched in the distance, watching forward as they regroup their numbers.

It takes some time but they come into the area that was Paros city. Still leaking blood Dutch has taken point since, so as not to leave a trail at the back, might as well do it up front where it can be lost by other elements and feet later. As they come into one of the streets, the motion is made to spread out, instead of being a nice little column right in the middle of the road. Eyes wide Dutch just lets loose a bit of breathe. "Shit.."

Angel keeps herself near Dutch, though follows orders quite well. When it comes time to spread out, she spreads, trying to keep close to some manner of cover.

Watching the marines from a distance, Damon decides that for now it would be best to hang back a bit. Still flanking the group, he moves low and quiet, stepping carefully as he goes. He's not familiar with the area and if there are traps…he can help them. It's strange logic, but for the ex-con…it holds water.

Ashe walked a bit more easily since the others had been taking shots and he'd been rather unscathed. The young Marine hadn't really said much of anything since the last engagement when he had decided that charging the living crap out of the Centurions was a game plan.

It's clear from the look of the city that any time spent here is going to require anti radiation doses to be used. There are burned out hulks of cars, rubble here and there, and a general sense of violence and despair. This is not the thriving little city it once was. This… this is what the cylons have done, and done throughout the Colonies. While in the belly of the bunker, or the woods around Harkins, it was, perhaps, easy to ignore the hard, cold, rotting truth. Most of the worlds these survivors know… are dead, destroyed, and forever gone.

The Centurions in Paros are not sneaky. They are not stealthy, and they do not try to hide. The Centurions in Paros rule the city like some sort of really shiny mob, without the accents, the charming weapons, the dames, the slang, and cars. They just have mobile death, and really funny looking heads. Two, in a patrol formation, round a building, heading past some rubble on the cracked sidewalk, apparently off to investigate a burned out store front. Maybe dude needs some cheetos.

Crouched behind some rubble, Damon watches from his position. With the fires lit, there's enough reflection that the Centurions are able to be seen more easily, and the movement helps him track their location. Glancing back down to the marines, he clicks the safety off of his rifle and waits for their move before he gives away his own position. Rifle at the ready to support them, he does all of his talking with his eyes, his face a mask of serious expression and little humor. In reality, it's been nice to shoot at Centurions these past few days.

As the Centurions come into view, there's another motion to find cover, basically find a place you can drop yourself. For Dutch, he is moving to take shelter next to the husk of a car and what used to be a mailbox. inching up Quietly, before he's looking back towards where Ashe is. Hand up, a motion made that there are two incoming. And with that raises his rifle. A grunt, but one is put into his sights..He's not waiting for a chance, once all are in cover, he's going to start the fire fight, hopefully try and pin them in.

And so Angel keeps her eyes on Dutch. Perhaps it's something about the big Marine, but she seems to have accepted him as the defacto leader. Or maybe she just has daddy issues. Either way, she settles in behind another car, within sight of Dutch, and pulls the trigger seconds after he does.

Ashe crouches down a bit at Dutch's hand signals and nods affirmation as he brings his rifle up and gets ready to open fire himself on a target. He follows the line of sight and once getting the cent id'd brings the weapon up to bear.

Pvt. Parts has to take a moment to clear a jam, and check the load of his weapon. Meanwhile, his fellows play fuck the robot all up and down the lane. He barely looks up before they're down to one target.

Dutch stands as the poor bastard that was the rear robot drops likes its nobody's business. A turn of his head, and swivel of the gun, Dutch is firing, in order to keep the 1st one from alerting backup any further than the gun reports will give them away.

As the first metal goes down, Ashe comes out of his crouch and once more charges towards the remaining Centurion to close distance. His rifle continues to spurt out bullets in a sequence of three shots as he depresses the trigger, pewpewpew.

Angel doesn't hesitate to switch targets once she sees number one go down. Lips thin again, she follows the Marine lead and shoots like her life depends on it.

With the opening fire hailing in, Damon takes his time to line up his rifle. One eye down the iron sights at the remaining Cylon, he prepares a three round burst. Taking in a quick breath, he holds it and pulls back on the trigger.

Pvt. Parts seems to have been a little rattled over that jam, and he takes a long moment to get his zenlike cool back, resting up against a car and leveling his rifle at his nefarious and shiny target. He breathes in, breathes out, and squeezes the trigger even as a hail of bullets thud into his cover to no effect. (You can't even dance to it.)

"The hell…?" Damon's eyes narrow after his burst heads off. With all of the gunfire directed at it, it would seem that this one has a bit more weight to it. Continuing his crouched stance on one knee, he already knows he has a good position…so he continues to fire. Light amounts of smoke raising from the barrel of his weapon, he hopes the commotion doesn't draw too many others into their zone.

"Shit.." Ashe goes running causing Dutch to break cover more "Frakkin-Frak!" and so he's coming out from around the car "LC get into cover!" though he doubts the order will be followed through, as he continues his assault on the only centurion. Shit, shit, well here goes nothing, right? The Leo Storm in his arms keeps spitting out rounds, as one slides past him as if it was nothing.

Sigh. Once again a Centurion with attitude. Angel's not overly pleased. She shifts slightly to get a better bead on the Centurion. Marines are cursing, Angel's shooting. She hasn't learned the fine art of talking and shooting. She stays behind her cover, letting the boys go crazy, and just shoots.

Ashe throws the barest glance over at Dutch as he breaks cover, scowling but the LC keeps his attention on the Centurion after that moment, muttering under his breath as the words are again swallowed up by the sound of bullet report.

The Centurion does seem to have a bit more sway in his stalk. Or maybe it's just that his armor deflects the bullets like Shaft's shiny black head. The odds are against the giant metal beast, and this bad, bad dude ain't got no swank theme music.

Now that…is more like it. Damon smirks as the rounds assault the Centurion and decides that his position to the marines, firing as an unknown in their aid from a side position, is moot now. "Friendly…" He calls out, rising just a little bit to give his position away. Still dressed in his police officer's uniform, Damon's got a vest over it. Hair down and somehow managing to stay out of his face, he looks over to them.

Angel turns her weapon toward Damon once the Centurion goes down. She points it at Frank for only a moment before lowering the business end of the gun. "Confirm friendly," she tells the two Marines, voice low and quiet. "One of mine."

Dutch is standing in the street, looking over at the Lance Corporal. It seems like he's not really paying attention to the dead Centurion. A lick of his lips and he's raising a brow. "What the frak was that?" A turn of his head, as Damon comes out, but the Conformation from Angel keeps him from having a gun pointed at him. "Shit."

Ashe calmly replaces the clip on his rifle as he turns to look at Dutch when he speaks. The much younger Marine quirks an eyebrow and begins to walk back towards the others while speaking. "That was the brat again." Then he falls silent.

"Keep it up, cook, and they're gonna draft you." Damon says, standing and moving in their direction. Eyes all around and his voice low, he checks his clip and decides to go with a fresh one for now. Boots lightly crunching in the gravel as he's no longer stalking alongside them, he finally turns his gaze back to them and nods. "…heard the gunfire…ran up this way." He says, nodding back from the direction they came.

"Frakking moron, don't do that again next time." A shake of his head and Dutch is nodding back towards Damon before motioning him along. "We need to find a place to bug down, because those tin heads are going to be thick as frakking thieves soon enough. I wouldn't be surprised if one just slid out and frakked us in the ass now." a mutter. "We'll find the team tomorrow, but we Can't cut back…"

Angelica offers Damon a little smile. "Evening Frank," she says quietly, then nods to Dutch. Her attention moves to the city, the landscape in front of her. The smile fades into horror, then nothingness. "The building over there," she murmurs to Dutch, nodding in that direction. "Do you think that might work?"

Dutch turns his head, and there is a nod back towards where Angelica is pointing. Well a nod after a little more consideration "It'll work. Lets hump it.." Seems to be the words, A look further, before he's starting to trot in that direction, or rather light jog, rifle held in his hands. Quicker the better.

Damon's features are grim, and his cold, calculating eyes turn towards Dutch. "I called friendlies." Damon simply replies, explanation enough. His eyes turn to Angelica and he nods a greeting, taking a moment to judge her reaction to him. Perhaps she doesn't know yet. Racking his weapon once the clip is in place, he looks around. Seems Angelica hasn't heard yet. "It's Damon. Damon Cavalera." He says with a sidelong look to her. Oh this will be a fun one, but he can't hide it anymore. He starts to move on Dutch's order.

From the NorthWest come the running footfalls of a Centurion. It might not be noticed aside from the tendency of buildings and hulls of buildings to amplify sound as big metal robots run by. The Centurions run at a fairly good clip, and fashionably late here heard the fire of his brethren. He rounds the corner looking a little dented up, like maybe he had a close encounter with a few rounds already. Somebody's dead because of this particular bullethead. He has a kill count.

Dutch is still moving at a full clip towards the building. Indeed so much that when the Centurion decides to come into view there's not much he can do, but merely call out before its too late, but of course, its too late, isn't it? "Frak me running.. COVER" hopefully the others, will have a better chance, but right now Dutch is just praying nothing hits him, so he can dive and return fire. Of all the times to be caught in the middle of the frakking road.

The bullets whiz by so Dutch still being in the open, to buy the freaking kids time, opens up on the Centurion, with a whistle. Lets see if he can't get the frakker to turn his back on them, and go after him. But, Frak right. Legs start moving as the gun reports off.

Angel goes diving for cover as soon as Dutch calls for it, trying to get as low as possible, as fast as possible, while opening fire on the stupid thing.

Dodging full auto fire is not fun. The general way it works is that you scramble for cover and if you can still breathe and feel parts of your body…you're okay. This is what Damon experiences as he suddenly dives to the side for cover. Sliding across the hood of a wrecked card to land with a loud grunt on the pavement beneath, Damon is doubly thankful that he didn't get speared by all of the jagged rebar on the other side. Clicking his safety off, he leans back up quickly and opens fire.

"Gods dammit look at me you sonuvabitch!" calls Dutch as he moves, only to turn and fire again, trying to pull the Centurion into a better shooting solution for his comrades in frakking arms. A deep breath, so far he's escape without worry, but lords if it'll happen again And so the gun rattles off in his hand "Come on-come on!" Turn and look you metal bastard

The next volley comes in and it's hard to dismiss the fact that someone got hit. Unfortunately, this someone is Angelica. "Frak…" Damon says under his breath, lowering his rifle for the second to round around the front of the car that he's hiding behind. Rushing over towards Angelica, he is going to attempt to grab her and pull her to cover. "Cover me!" He calls out, doing something stupid.

Oh, yeah. Angel gets hit and hit hard. One gets her in the leg, one gets her in the left arm. And she's not able to bite back the cry of pain. Rather than stay down, like a smart person would do, she unloads her anger on the Centurion, using the car she has for cover as a brace.

Dutch goes down like a sack of bricks, right in the chest again, but he had that one coming. So much it sends his shots off mark, before he's sputtering for a second. A deep breath, taken, and the gun is raised from where he lies in the road. Breathing is hard, but he's fighting on, even if the bastard turns and mows him down. "You gods damned metal cocksucker…" Cue his gun rolling out. He'll buy the civis time. And hopefully they'll get into the building there.

Damon drags Angel as the Private works on her leg. Pulling her back behind cover, Damon manages to keep a straight face through it all. Not sweating it one bit, at least not yet, Damon keeps himself in the fight. Using the car for cover, he rises back up and tries to work on the red eye of the Centurion. The area is filled with the smell of cordite and the pulsating burst of gunfire. Damon starts to try to control the amount of damage coming their way.

Oh, poor Angel. She can only get one shot off while she's being dragged from one cover to another. "Get…Sergeant…" she growls quietly, between gritted teeth.

Dutch rolls his head back after the burst commences. A coughing bit of blood, as pain shoots through his chest. A snort, as if trying to clear his passageways, but, for any other movement, Dutch Ain't getting up. He remains where he is in the road, the rifle dropping down. Labored breath, as he's reaching over to his medkit. Bloody hands groping for a moment.

Damon looks to the Centurion as it begins to fall and takes a quick glance down at Angelica. Gauging her status to the best of his non-medical ability, he steps out from around the car towards the Centurion. With the private tending to Dutch, he crouches over the dead Cylon, taking a better look at it. "See how many bullets that thing stopped?" He says back to them, looking in the direction of their shelter for the evening. He steps over to Dutch, looking down at him. "…safe to move this one?"

Angel just lay back on the ground, hands gripping her gun, staring up at the sky as she tries desperately not to move. "Get…get us to the building, Damon," she calls quietly.

Dutch looks up at Daman "Don't touch me gods dammit.." comes the hissed reply as the thin metallic cylinder is wrestled out, a check of his armor, before he's reaching down to a free part of his leg, and there he goes jamming himself, and pressing down till the sound of eair expelling can be heard. "Mithras's balls.." And the cylinder is tossed away. A shaky hand reaches for his rifle, and he is slowly sitting up. "Go grab the kid..Private's got me. Now bust it." A sniff, and up he's rolling. "Frak me. " a swish and spit. "We better hope these cocksuckers are worth finding, and have a doc with em.."

Pvt Parts hops to the Sergeant's word, and moves to help the big man to his feet. Little Warren Parts is a bit on the short side, and looks like a kid compared to Dutch, but he's strong, dedicated, and he doesn't talk much. In that way, he's quite popular with the women as well as his fellow marines.

Damon moves in an alien manner, watching instead of talking with that bit of thousand yard stare. Eyes on Dutch as he's told to go get Angelica, he doesn't even acknowledge his words. Moving with his rifle in his hands, he clicks on the safety and looks her over. Right leg and left arm, not to mention a chest wound, there's no simple way to do this one. "Allright, this is going to hurt and I'm going to make you go through with it." Damon says, watching her face. "…just be quiet and I'll get you somewhere safe." He says honestly, leaning down to put his arm under her right arm, over her abs, to grip her belt. Not seeing any better way, he tries to lean her weight a bit on her left leg as he pulls her up slowly. "Arm over my head." He says, and then starts to limp her backwards towards the shelter.

Dutch is nodding to parts as he gets up. rifle held low, he's starting to move albeit not as quick as he did the other few minutes towards the building but he's going to the one they indicated without so much fuss. A look back as he waits half way. mainly to catch his breath. "Move it." called over to Damon and Angelica, as he is motioning to the building. They can take refuge in the higher floors. Though cumbersone and probably a trap, they'll at least hear people coming..Might even put up some claymores, or something to work as a trap for a nosy tinman.

Damon moves in an alien manner, watching instead of talking with that bit of thousand yard stare. Eyes on Dutch as he's told to go get Angelica, he doesn't even acknowledge his words. Moving with his rifle in his hands, he clicks on the safety and looks her over. Right leg and left arm, not to mention a chest wound, there's no simple way to do this one. "Allright, this is going to hurt and I'm going to make you go through with it." Damon says, watching her face. "…just be quiet and I'll get you somewhere safe." He says honestly, leaning down to put his arm under her right arm, over her abs, to grip her belt. Not seeing any better way, he tries to lean her weight a bit on her left leg as he pulls her up slowly. "Arm over my head." He says, and then starts to limp her backwards towards the shelter.

Dutch is nodding to parts as he gets up. rifle held low, he's starting to move albeit not as quick as he did the other few minutes towards the building but he's going to the one they indicated without so much fuss. A look back as he waits half way. mainly to catch his breath. "Move it." called over to Damon and Angelica, as he is motioning to the building. They can take refuge in the higher floors. Though cumbersone and probably a trap, they'll at least hear people coming..Might even put up some claymores, or something to work as a trap for a nosy tinman.

Angel seems to have more problem with being touched than she does being injured. But with a low whimper, she does what Damon says. Clearly she trusts the man. Not happy not happy not happy owfuckthathurts. She moves, though, rifle bouncing.

"Guess this means I get a temporary reprieve…" Damon says under his breath as he drags her into the structure. Looking for a way to the second floor, he slows down to a near crawl, careful of the debris and whatever dangers may be left inside. Looking to Dutch, he speaks quietly in his direction. "Where we headed to from here? Was quiet enough to sneak up on you, I'm quiet enough to go further in and maybe get some help…" He offers, letting himself bear most of the weight of Angelica's transfer. He's got a backpack on, but hardly a heavy, full kit.

"We'll need a doc. That's for frakking sure.." not just for him. He's got bullet wounds, but they aren't as bad or as life threatening as Angelica's look. A sniff, and he is looking back to Damon for a moment. "You almost got shot because of the situation.. Next time you're following, sing out earlier.." though the man might have had to do catch up. Dutch apparently seems not to be giving a shit about the man having been a criminal. Different times, different measures. "We're trying to connect with Fox-3 out here, They're data shows they probably crashed out in this vicinity."

Angelica settles back on the floor, once she's released by Dutch, biting her lower lip, clearly trying not to cry. "Fra…Damon," she murmurs. "Don't tell Achilles, please."

"I don't do that…" Damon replies dryly in response to Dutch's words, looking over his shoulder for a comfortable place to rest Angelica down. "…then you'd have known where I was." Finding a spot against a wall just up the first flight of stairs, she's got some cover from the door. Pulling a bottle of water from his pack, he offers it to her and continues to whisper with them. A bit tired from his sprinting in their direction from the bunker, he rests on a knee and leans his body against the wall. Running a dirty forearm across his brow, one thing's for sure, he's darkly clad and packed to move light. There's a quiet look on Damon's face at the mentioning of Achilles. "I won't, just remember I covered for you." He says with a bit of jailhouse forked tongue to his voice. "Just rest for now girl, we're gonna figure this out right."

"No shit, Sherlocke. That's the point." comes Dutch's usual bark, so it either means Damon is accepted, or he is being treated like anyone else with the group. There's a motion made to Parts to go and set up an alarm system by the stairs once everyone is up and in place. A look is given back over towards Damon and finally over towards Angelica "We need a doc quick.. I'm good, but I won't be able to save her arm on my own.." said softly, before he's moving Ashe going with him into the other room. One can bet by the clatter going on, the Marine is about to start pulling bullets out of his chest, least one still in there, and do some self medication.

Angel just nods to Frank, then looks after where Dutch went. "Get…back in here," she calls. "I've got one good hand." Of course, tears are streaming down her cheeks.

"Frak this…I'm going." Damon says simply, looking back at them. "If I move quiet and fast I should be able to get something back to you all." Damon looks to Angel, checking the clip in his rifle. Slinging it over his shoulder he moves before parts does, down towards the entrance. "You guys stay tight, in the least I'll buy you some time to make it through the night." He says, matter of factly.

Taking a seat on the landing near Angel, Damon allows himself to relax for a moment. Propping his rifle up on the wall beside him, he runs his hand over his sweaty face and takes a pull from his canteen. "…if the shit hits the fan you're gonna need someone to fight you out of here." Damon says simply, without expression. "There's no telling if they're there, I could get lost. Let's just…take a bit to relax, maybe splint her leg, get her more mobile…"

In the next room the sounds of the Sergeant dog cussing Ashe can be heard as he tends to his own wounds. Though soon enough he'd be back to check on Angelica and shoot her up with some Morpha so she can sleep. The Marines, ragged, would keep watch, while the Medic would do the best he could for the girl. He'd tell her once that there's "No crying in war." But that's a damn lie he even knows. These whole things? They end in tears an gnashing of teeth. Ain't nothing good about it. Ain't no living in surviving.

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