Trailer Park Massacre
Trailer Park Massacre
Summary: The Grifter Falls crew scouts Tinos and discovers some survivors holed up in a trailer park. Then the Cylons crash the party. EVENT
Date: PHD142, 9/7/09
Related Logs: None

File created: 2009-09-08 01:09

[ Tinos ]---------[ Scorpia ]

IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #142 OOC Time: Mon Sep 07 21:38:47 2009

TEMP DESC: Tinos was a town of roughly 20,000 folks before the Cylons attacked. It wasn't nuked, and got only minimal fallout from the nuke at the airbase north of Paros and other prevailing winds dropping crap on them from bigger cities elsewhere. This whole area is pretty rural and picturesque - think the pretty deserted stretches of the Pacific Northwest. Lots of national parks. Main industry is tourism, plus some mining and logging (in the non-protected sections). Though Tinos wasn't nuked, it was bombed/strafed by the Cylons with conventional weapons. Pretty well wrecked. But after the initial "OMG run for the hills!" some folks came back and hid out from the Cylons, who seemed to generally mind their own business save for some patrols and a heavy presence on the west side of town.

Having scavenged a bit from some of the other houses, the group has moved more into 'scout' mode, trying to get a better sense of the area. Leaving that initial housing development, Joanna has led the way north, along the outskirts of the city. The terrain is mostly wooded foothills here.

Ollie moves long with the group, moving fast, eyes open. She's understandably nervous about this scouting thing, despite previous experience in sneaking around urban settings. It's so quiet, so empty of life. It's creepy. Speaking of creepy, Lysander's off doing something sneaky and creepy, she glances around briefly. Nope, no priest in sight. It's a relief when they leave the development, and the botanist relaxes ever so slightly.

The stony face Andrew assumed when the priest joined them is still there, never quite having faded. It's just something about that, yes, creepy guy. He holds his rifle carefully, safety off, ready to go. But by the set of his shoulders, he's relaxed somewhat.

Joanna has assumed that focused air she gets when on alert, but nevertheless strikes up a conversation. "Don't think I'll ever get used to seeing these deserted towns."

"It's creepy," Ollie finally says aloud, reaching up to pull her pack tighter against her back. "All those people just… gone." Or dead. Dead and gone. "I think it would be easier, sometimes, if the buildings weren't still so intact, I mean what of them there are left." Ruins would be easier to take. Modern rubble and standing structures empty? Not so much.

"I don't think anything makes this easier," Andrew replies, looking around the deserted streets. "Where are we headed to now?" he asks of his aunt, trying to change the subject if nothing else.

And there a sound this time to alert the trio that he has returned. After all no need to have them nearly wet themselves once more because he's gone ahead and scouted. "No new tracks from what I could distinguish." comes Lysander's words as he draws up and lowers his rifle "I did come across a trailer park about a Quarter of a mile ahead.." No use using clicks for those who don't know the lingo. "People in it, Not too heavily armed or protected.. Though there were two men on patrol, armed with the old 4700 milirems." hunting rifles. And with that the Priest looks back towards the rest. "Odd, figured you would see more bodies, like out at the park."

Joanna nods to Andrew, agreeing grimly. "I think you're right. Still, it's lucky for us that there's so much to scavenge." Though she liked it better when their packs were mostly empty. To Andrew's question she replies. "I want to see the state of the city. From the maps, there's a pretty good overlook a little further north of here." Joanna tenses briefly at the sound, but relaxes when Lysander comes into view. She listens to his report, then nods. "Might be a good source of intel." She looks around to see other thoughts, not commenting on the bodies.

Ollie doesn't have a weapon hand, so there's at least no shooting of Lysander coming from her. She glances over to Andrew, and nods. Nothing makes it easier is right. She was hoping. "High ground sounds good to me," she murmurs quietly. Her attention shifts back to the group, eyes sweeping over each of them.

"They probably moved the bodies, because of the stink," Andrew hazards a guess. He blinks, startled at his aunt's decision. "We're going to talk to them? What if they're like the people at the park? There's only four of us, and.." He glances at Ollie, then declines to finish his statement.

"And Ollie?" Lysander finishes before he's looking back towards Andrew with a raised brow. "If I keep out of sight I can pick them off, before they have a chance to do anything if it looks bad." the Priest offers. "Besides they might see you three and feel less threatened." Not meaning to say Joanna isn't threatening at all. Just if they are like the men in the park, then he are less apt to think a woman trained for anything else that making babies, and pies. "Your call." directed back towards Joanna

Joanna catches the glance to Ollie, and a corner of her mouth quirks up in the tiniest of smiles. She nods to Lysander's assessment. "Two to cover, two to go in. It's a risk, but we can't spend the rest of our lives running from every group of people we come across." She looks between Andrew and Ollie, clearly contemplating something. "Who's going in with me?" she asks.

As Andrew trails off, Ollie's eyes shift to Andrew. She glances away, and says nothing on the subject. Maybe she didn't catch his drift. "I'll go. I mean, if something happens it's not like I'm going to be good storming into save the day." No shame in that. "Take Nikos and they're likely to shoot us on sight."

"Ollie might have trouble killing someone," Andrew finishes his thought. "I should go in with you, Jo," he nominates himself, glancing at the rifle in his hands. "I won't hesitate if something goes wrong."

"Because, I am carrying a gun. If I was in my robes, I think they'd be more amazed that a priest is still wandering around." But, such is life. A look back towards Andrew and a nod. "That'll work. If anything you can play up your familial tie for sympathy if it starts looking bad.." A slight glance is given back towards Ollie, before Lysander's focus is on his gun. "Sides two women might be too tempting of a target."

Joanna nods to each of them. "All good points. Andrew it is." She glances to Ollie, then. "I have faith in you to watch our backs." She gives a sidelong half-smile to Andrew, pride tinged with worry.

Ollie, skilled with tactics. Ok, except not. She turns her eyes to Joanna, then nods. And she glances over at Lysander. Alone with the priest again. The look on her face speaks clearly. She's wondering what it is the Gods are pissed at her for. "Ok."

Andrew nods his approval at her decision, walking towards his aunt. As he passes by Ollie, he pauses and whispers something to her. Then it's to Jo's side. "After you," he tells her.

Lysander nods slightly as he is looking back towards Ollie for a second. A shake of his head at the kid, before he's moving to take the lead right there for his little part "Come on." If anything he'll get them to a better vantage point. "Do you have a gun?" asked, though the answer there is probably-no.

That decided, Joanna nods to Andrew starts moving forward again, through the forest. They're sneaky enough to bypass the patrols circling the trailer park, letting Ollie and Lysander pick a good spot to provide overwatch. Jo waits to see that they're in position before looking to Andrew. "Here we go." There's more she wants to say but now is not the time. She just gives him a nod and strides out of the treeline into the camp, rifle pointed down at the ground and one hand up in a peaceful gesture.

Meanwhile, in the trailer park…

In the hills on the western outskirts of Tinos, a small band of survivors has set up shop in what's left of a trailer park. The Cylons hit it once during the initial attack on the city, but haven't been back since. But boy did they leave a mess behind - a few craters and a number of burned out or shot-up hulks of trailers dot the landscape. It's early evening on a warm summer night and life in their makeshift village goes on as usual.

By the stump of a fallen redwood sits one Garrick Baines, his hoodie drawn up over his head, legs propped up on a car tire recently liberated from a broken-down truck a couple of meters away. In his hands is a wooden tree branch whose bark he's now scraping off with the edge of a knife, brown-black flakes settling over his trousers like little flecks of dust.

Jonah's boots scrape against the linoleum of the little Airstream he's occupying with several others. The silver exterior makes it look like a little metallic pill, which for some reason amuses the former bartender. Everything is former. Former jobs, former dreams, former lives. He grabs the pot of black tar that passes for coffee off the gas burner that's still functional in the little habitat and leans out of the scarred up screen door. "Coffee's done." He calls quietly into the dead grassed area they've dubbed the 'Commons'. Because it sounds better then 'dead grassed area'.

Cahen is not far from Garrick. Not close enough to interrupt the man and his whittling of the tree branch, but in the same general area. He's taken an old pocket watch out of his jacket and popped the back open a screwdriver. Revealing the little gears and wires. He's winding it with an intent expression on his face. Hands working at the watch with delicate care. He pauses and looks up at the call for coffee, though. "What I wouldn't give for a cup of tea right now…" he murmurs. Mostly to himself. It's not a rejection of the coffee, just a general mourning for what there isn't.

A few of the other denizens gather round for coffee, including a mother with an infant bundled in her arms. "Much obliged," she says to Jonah.

Garrick sniffs at Jonah's announcement, his wide nostrils flaring — testing the air, no doubt, and doing his best to taste the coffee before it arrives. But whatever he's about to say dies on his lips when a cockroach skitters out from underneath the wreckage of a donut box beside him. Skinned branch is tossed aside as he does his best to stab the thing; instead, all he manages to do is dig up some loose chunks of grass from the ground. "Shit," the man drawls. Then, louder: "We got cups in there, or do I gotta brush my teeth and drink straight out of that thing?"

Jonah steps down the rusted metal plate that serves as a stair, the thing swaying dangerously on its brackets from his passing weight. "Yeah, sure. No problem." He tells the woamn, refilling her cup. Serving, he knows how to serve. "Wouldn't want you to form any new habits." Jonah tells Garrick as he leans over a plastic tub filled with soapy water that's purposing as a sink for the time being. He fishes one out of the water, gives it a good shake with his free hand, and then pours the whittler a cup. Handing it over, Jonah's gaze flicks to Cahen. "You want?"

"Usually I cut bone, kid." Garrick pushes himself to his feet, wiping his blade against his trousers as he stands; a few stray splinters cling tightly to the fabric despite his best efforts. Said blade is shoved into a sheath at his belt before he heads over to collect his drink, sniffing again as he gets closer. "Ain't a problem usin' yours 'stead of that soft wood shit over there." The fact that there are women and infants around doesn't deter him one bit. "Thanks." He takes his coffee not with sugar or milk but with long, brutal gulps, not minding the fact that he's getting it all over his jacket.

The young mother takes her coffee with a smile and wanders over to sit on a treestump in the 'commons' area, sipping it and listening to the conversation.

"Then who would make the coffee?" Jonah intones lightly, followed by a, "You're welcome." He makes the rounds, pouring out the coffee into extended mugs before he finally takes the dregs for himself. The now empty pot is set back by the Airstream on a piece of dilapidated lawn furniture. "We're going to need to make another run to that convenience store. We're almost out of the basics." Meaning coffee and beef jerky.

"Don't take a frakkin' college degree to make coffee," Garrick half-snarls, spitting out a couple of stray grinds onto the ground as he wanders over to the side of the trailer, his free hand in his pocket. "Baby over there could do it if he had to." He takes another powerful swig. "So when you think this run's gonna need to happen?"

"Should get some more blankets and such too," the mother chimes in. "Winter'll be coming on soon." Her baby sleeps on blissfully in her arms.

Jonah sits down on a lawn chair with a sagging woven bottom, his coffee cup clasped between both hands and settled between his knees. "Yes, but babies should play with gas stoves or plastic bags. Or you." He tells Garrick as if that's simple logic. There's no malice in his tone, however, out of respect for his fellow survivor. "Soon. And we'll need to go further in. Raid the residential district if we're going to get things like blankets. Maybe look for some place better then this to hole up for the harsher weather."

Having spent an hour or two picking her way around their 'home', Diana Taibbi's boots crackle softly on some fallen leaves and sticks as she hikes up towards the little gathering of people. A hunting rifle is on her shoulder, held firmly with a strap that loops around her arm. "A donut box." Her voice is a low, even alto that carries easily. There's a light snort. "Kept telling you'd have made a good cop, Baines." She draws up to the circle, jamming hands into the pockets of her jacket.

Cahen continues to work at his watch, rather fussily. He seems absorbed in the task. He scares himself up a cup of coffee, eventually, though he still doesn't seem entirely satisfied with his work on the watch. His attention goes to Diana at her approach, though he stays quiet.

"Cockroaches got there before me, Taibbi." Garrick doesn't bother turning around; he recognizes the voice, or at least the familiarity of its tone. "Don't like that cream-stuffed shit anyway. Yeah, I checked." He'll take another hit of caffeine before he speaks. "Further in, huh?" Headshake. "You got a map of the place anywhere?"

"It's a tourist town, right? They're bound to have pamphlets at the convenience store. We'll wait until the patrol's gone through for the evening and do a raid. Even pick you up some toothpaste, if you're serious about that whole oral hygeine thing." Jonah touches the coffee mug back to his lips, drinking from a 'Save Our Planet' ceramic one. Irony of ironies.

"Remind us to hit up the 7-11 for your exquisite frakking taste in pastry," Diana mutters. The coffee doesn't seem to draw the dark-skinned woman's attention so much as the conversation, and as the breeze rustles her black hair she looks over Jonah before giving him an upwards nod. Her eyes then tip to Cahen and his…watch. "How are you doing over there?"

Cahen leaves off his fiddling with the pocketwatch, still looking less than satisfied. It's tucked back into his jacket. He does get himself a cup of coffee, finally. "Can't it set quite set," he replies to Diana. Which apparently bothers him. He shrugs, going over to join the conversation more actively. "Hygeine? I do miss that," he says dryly, idly scratching at his chin. The beard clearly annoys him.

"I got good taste, Taibbi. You want proof?" Wait for it … "I ain't dippin' my wick in you." Garrick doesn't so much smile as show his teeth. "And if I were you, kid, I'd stop sleepin' — cause those legs, there? Just the right size." Without further ado, he's stumping up the blackened steps into the trailer, taking them three at a time. "Gotta get a bigger gun if we are goin' out. If you're talkin' to me, start shoutin'."

Whatever Andrew says to her makes the botanist smile slightly. "… I'm not sure that's accurate, but the thought is commendable." She shakes her head a little, and brushes a few strands of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. She turns to make her way over to Lysander. "Gods be with you," she murmurs toward Joanna and Andrew.

Ollie arrives from the Highland Trail.

Lysander arrives from the Highland Trail.

Jonah brings the cup to his lips again, muttering into the hollow of it. "Days not complete unless he's threatened at least three of us." Coffee is gulped more then sipped now, if only so he can get the entire thing down to fuel himself for another run deeper into down. With a wince, he sets the chipped ceramic aside the leans over to tighten the laces on his boots for the trek.

This must be some usual dysfunctional back-and-forth for Diana, as Garrick's comment just pulls a toothy grin. Jonah gets a shake of her head. "Don't worry about him. Least he's learned to give himself time-outs in the corner." She glances over her shoulder towards the rest of the trailer park and then takes a step closer to Cahen. "Hey, chin up. We'll get you something."

The evening stillness is broken by an unexpected voice calling from the southern side of the park. "Hello there. We don't mean you any harm." Joanna speaks the words calmly, right hand raised in a hopefully non-threatening gesture while her left rests on an assault rifle that's currently pointing down at the ground. Accompanying her is Andrew, also armed with a rifle. Ollie and Lysander are not visible yet. Strange that the pair of them seem to have made it past the trailer park's sentries that were on patrol.

Cahen lets out a wry chuckle at Garrick's comment to Diana. Very wry. That one got a smirk from him, at least. Though no teeth are shown. He does downs more coffee, sipping it slowly. It's not such a fine roast that he terribly wants to favor it. He looks dubious about the prospect of toting around a gun. And his skills in that area are highly dubious as well. "I'd make a list, but I get the feeling my choices are going to be rather limited." If he's got more to say, it's tabled at the sound of voices. He tenses.

Nobody shouts, so Garrick doesn't hear a word of what's going on. The sound of a rusted door screeching open can be heard in the commons as he raids what passes for a safe in this makeshift settlement; a half-minute later, he emerges with a hunting rifle of his own, its stock a pleasing shade of mahogany. An ammo pouch is tied to his belt — only half-full, from the looks of things. "Frakkin' popgun ain't gonna do shit to metal," he growls — his usual complaint. His coffee is still in his hand, and miraculously, it's not empty. "Yo, Doc." This, to Cahen. "Want the rest of this shit? I ain't diseased, unlike — " And then, suddenly — voices. Ones he doesn't know.

"Nothin' here for you," he calls warily. "What'd you do with our people?"

Andrew says nothing, just a presence behind Joanna with a rifle of his own. He's holding it comfortably, in the manner of one who knows how to use it. His gaze drifts over the assembled people, making a note of their position and possible weapons.

Gun. Frak. Jonah really has to stop leaning it some where and forgetting promptly where that somewhere is. "We got company!" He calls loudly to the other inhabitants of White Trash Base Camp. To some it might be a warning to hide, to others it might be a call to arms. He stands smoothly, interposing himself between the newcomers and the mother & baby combo.

The sound causes Diana to turn on reflex, hunting rifle pulled deftly off her shoulder and into her hands. Pivoting on her foot puts her slightly in front of Cahen, protectively. "Stop where you are," She calls out, not exactly threatening but not yet friendly either.

Garrick drops his mug as he sees Diana tense, fragile porcelain shattering as it hits a rock. He meant to aim for the dirt, honest. In a flash, not one but two hands are on his gun.

Joanna stops walking once they've been noticed, also surveying the group for potential threats. Her hand's still up. Some of the folks scatter from the commons into safety. A few others come up with weapons of their own. The mother and baby hide behind Jonah. "They're safe and sound." Indeed, hearing Jonah's shout, one of the two sentries rushes back to the camp, his hunting rifle up and ready. "We just want to talk."

Cahen locates himself a weapon. A pistol. Which he handles very awkwardly. He's careful not to point it in any direction that might inadvertently shoot another occupant of the trailer. A little nod is offered to Diana. Keeping his composure, at least, though the shattering mug makes him flinch. He keeps his mouth shut for the moment, squinting in the direction of their visitors.

Continuing cautiously as he makes his way to where he observed the camp earlier Lysander is quick to find himself some nice and good cover, specially as the voices come out from White Trash Base Camp. Safety has been off from his weapon, so there's not even that precaution to worry about as the rifle is slowly, and carefully raised. Peering through the scope, it seems the ex marine has a lot of targets to worry about. Still nothing really said to his companion as he is definitely looking to aim at the one that comes off as the worse, and perhaps quickest threat to the two who have edged out. Thank the gods for foresty cover yo. This might look horrid otherwise.

Garrick's gaze drifts over to the sentry now storming in, brown eyes squinting as he commits the man's face to memory. Then, looking back at the newcomers: "Nobody's stoppin' you," he grunts. "Talk."

Diana keeps the rifle pointed downwards, towards the dirt about halfway between Joanna and herself. Her eyes flicker from Joanna to Andrew and then behind them, scanning the area around the two for other signs of movement. Then back. As Garrick directs them to talk, she watches their faces.

Jonah doesn't have a gun, it's in the silver Airstream a few good dozen paces away. Leaving to get it would mean leaving the woman and her child exposed. That's not going to happen, so he folds his arms over his chest. Fear the folded arms of disapproval. Garrick seems to be the mouthpiece for the group at the moment, and so Jonah, too, is quiet.

Andrew's jaw tightens as he watches folks scurry for weapons, but he still makes no movement. He just shoots Joanna a worried look.

Joanna casts a brief glance to Andrew, her confidence not faltering. "We came over from near Paros, and we'd like to share information about the surrounding area. We can trade, as well." The two have rather full-looking packs.

Ollie remains immobile, not far from Lysander, though she probably remains largely unnoticed unless someone has some really attentive eyes. She's unobtrusive like that. And motionless.

Garrick's posture mirrors Diana's as the strange woman speaks, spitting on the ground to get the taste of awful coffee out of his mouth. Then: "Just the two of you?" he asks, gaze darting up to the treeline and back.

Diana has her attention more on the two making noise and motion than the trees. "You've just been wandering out here by yourselves?" The woman asks Joanna, giving the other female a slight lookover. Not a disparaging one, just assessing.

Joanna shakes her head. "The rest of us are hanging back. Making sure you weren't going to shoot first and ask questions later," Joanna replies with a wry grin to Garrick. And indeed, he can see Lysander and Ollie hidden in the trees in a good overwatch position. To Diana, she says, "We're scouting."

Andrew nods slightly at Joanna's words, hefting a shoulder to make the contents of his own pack rattle. But he doesn't take his hands off his rifle.

Cahen is also focused on Joanna and Andrew more than anyone else who might be lurking about. The look of the boy and the woman bring a thoughtful expression to his face. His pistol still stays pointed at the ground. The safety may very well be on. He lets Diana and Garrick do the talking for a moment, though there's a look in his eyes that suggests wheels are turning as he processes this.

"Your boys blow at hidin'," says Garrick, offering the woman a wolfish grin. "So if you said anything else 'sides that, I'd be puttin' a bullet between your eyes, right there." His left hand leaves his rifle, index finger jabbing at his forehead. "Get the frak out of the trees. Guns down. Then we'll talk."

Jonah is quiet for a long time, looking out to the line of trees and the few faces he can pick out. Finally, he comments aside to Garrick. "Should I make another pot of coffee?" Talking out of the side of his mouth, if he were a ventriloquist, it would surely be a FAIL.

Diana glances briefly at the trees again, pursing back a smile at Garrick's observation. One dark brow raises at the treeline, then goes back to Joanna. "Bold of you," she says, approvingly. "We can do this civilised, I'm pretty damn sure. Why don't you give us some names and we'll go from there?"

Joanna looks back over her shoulder when Garrick points out her two compatriots, a bemused look on her face. "Seems so," she agrees with him. She gives Lys and Ollie a little headjerk, motioning them on down, then looks back to Diana. "My name's Jo Archer. This is Andrew. Back there is Liz and Ollie."

Andrew finally says something. "I don't drink coffee," he notes, his tone rather polite. "So you don't need to waste a cup on me." While his rifle was always pointed down, he relaxes slightly, as if he's less likely now to point it at anyone.

The priest has been a Priest for as long as he was a sniper, And when one goes into a life of chanting and stuff like that, one loses the whole art of sneaking around to a degree. As such Lysander isn't lowering his rifle when they are called out. Rather he'll wait to see what Jo says. If she doesn't seem alright with them then he might.

Head jerk caught and the rifle is lowered for a moment as he comes to rise up from his place a nod back to Ollie as he is moving to join. "You think they'd sling theirs..Don't like it." But, no one has ever accused the priest of being trusting.

"You gonna give them free shit?" Garrick, unlike Jonah, doesn't have any compunctions about saying this audibly, though his gaze is still fixed on the newcomers to the camp. "Just said we're runnin' out, less my ears are broke. They wanna drink, they pay for it." He'll let Diana do the civilized. "Yo — your ears broke too? Your guns. Leave 'em." No name from him. No trust, either. Must be a CMC thing.

Ollie glances over at Lysander. She shakes her head slightly, says something to him that's not audible from that far away (to anyone but Lysander), and she gives the dark haired priest's arm a tap. She makes her way out of the treeline, no weapon immediately visible on her person. That's because it's a sidearm, and it's shoved down the back of her jeans. No, that isn't the comfy way to carry it. Don't ask about why she doesn't have a rifle. "Let's go, prince of death." That's to Lysander, and the bit no one else can hear. Shame, really. It might catch on.

"He's not going to leave his weapon behind any more than you would," Joanna points out calmly, eyes not leaving Garrick. "Now we don't want any trouble, so if you've got a problem with that, we'll be on our way. Otherwise how about we all sling our guns and talk about what to trade for a couple cups of coffee?"

"Baines, stow it." Diana still has her rifle out, though perhaps in gesture it lowers further until it's pointing at the ground closer to her than them. Back to Joanna. "Diana. This is Garrick, that's Ibrahim, and that's…" Shit, she doesn't even know Jonah's name. "Someone who can introduce himself. All had some run-ins with frakkers who'd rather shoot first and frak the talking altogether, you know?"

"I prefer tea myself," Cahen comments to Andrew dryly, finally speaking. "But our stores are lacking in selection." His tone is not unfriendly with the boy. And he sounds quite civilized, for his part. "You'll forgive a certain amount of caution, I'm sure, but these are acrimonious times." Perhaps pulling out the five-syllable words to sound more diplomatic. Or he's just like that.

"Frak you." comes Lysander's bark back as he stops. "Put yours down and I'll put mine down." Compromise? Yeah, but if he thinks he can stand there with a gun, and the priest isn't going to do anything about it. He's a bit dead wrong. So Ollie can go on back down with the rest, but until then, Lysander's remaining slightly halfway, where he is. Though if it seems that everyone is slinging their rifles or stowing pistols, then he will comply. Before then? Nix.

It's about then, possibly the worst possible moment, that the second sentry comes running back into camp, skidding to a halt at the edge of the commons, out of breath. He seems puzzled by the confrontation going on, but nonetheless breaks in, "Metal heading our way. Saw two Toasters."

Jonah raises his hand to wave, "Jonah." Yup, he can certainly introduce himself. He has mad introduction skills. "How about we all agree to click on our safeties at least. We're on the same side of this war, if I recall correctly. Coffee for information, that seems fair." He turns around, showing his back to Joana an the others in a sign of trust. Blind stupid trust, perhaps. The turn is to usher the mother and her baby off towards the Airstream trailer, handing her the empty coffee carafe as she goes. Wait, Toasters? "Frakking hell, I hope they didn't follow you lot here. Get inside." He shoves the mother earnestly, then reaches beyond her for his rifle.

Ollie shakes her head and continues down alone, her pack heavy on her back. She wasn't having fun standing in the treeline. Oh frak. She's out in the open when the call comes down about toasters.

"You got that right," calls Garrick back to Jo, though his eyes are entirely on Diana. "Fine — what the kid said. Safeties on. Now y'all walk slowly, hear?" He backs up until the back of his trousers are against the stairs to the Airstream, clearly about to sit — until sentry number two comes howling back. "Shit." Yeah. Safety? Off, as he runs toward the stump, kneeling down to get as much of himself behind cover as possible.

"Shit." The little group and whatever they were getting into? Put to the wayside. Diana pulls her rifle back up, and flips the safety off - what do you know, it was on that whole time - "If you're not armed, get inside."

There's a look back behind him as his rifle is slung around and he is beginning to hoof it out towards the others. However, one hand is reaching out for Ollie. Seems like right now Lysander's not asking for permission, as he will be helping/forceibly dragging the woman if he needs to, to get to some cover or something. "Move." How's that for a commanding presence.

Joanna shakes her head to Jonah, pretty sure they weren't followed even though she doesn't say so aloud. "West?" she asks the sentry, who had come in from that direction. He gives a distracted nod, moving to a firing position as well. But when the shooting starts, it's coming from the east, as two other Centurions burst from the treeline and begin opening fire.

Being manhandled by a priest seems to be fairly commonplace for the blonde botanist, and she doesn't even gripe, this time, when Lysander grabs her arm and drags her along toward cover. She picks up the pace as the initial shock of 'oh shit' wears off, and she's soon running hard to keep up with him. "Gods…" Assholes and elbows, go!

Cahen makes sure his safety is on, holding the gun up a little toward Diana for confirmation of this. He's managed to do at least that much with the weapon, at least. It's hurridly flipped off, though. Might as well make an attempt at usefulness with it. 'Frak' he mouthes, gaze flitting about as if the Cylons might suddenly appear on their doorstep out of thin air. He looks to Diana and Garrick, taking a breath.

"Someone actually teach you shoot that thing, Ibrahim?" Diana drops down for some cover, motioning for Cahen to do the same. "Get the frak down and don't you dare shoot me in the ass."

"But it's such a fine ass," Garrick calls from his position by the stump, his rifle swinging from west to east as he pumps the bolt. Piece of shit. And then the firing starts and he's making himself even smaller, trying to get a bead on one of the invading centurions.

Jonah slinks into the shadowed frame of the door to the trailer, the tip of his rifle pointed out in the direction the second sentry came from. One thing is for certain: Sandy Shores RV Park and Wife-beater Playground is no longer safe.

"If they are listening cover our asses." comes a huffed out reply, see this is what they get for dawdling and being cautious. They are coming in closer towards the group, however Priest and botanist are still quite out in the open. So what does Nikos do? Simple, he drags and tries to zig zag a little as he remembers from his days in basic "Serpentine." what are we running with? "Serpentine patterns, kid!"

Andrew waits until Joanna gives the okay to flick the safety, and apparently it's a good thing he did. He dives for cover, behind the first piece of crap big enough to hide most of his body, then aims his weapon as soon as he's able.

Diana snorts at Garrick. "Shoot your frakkin blanks at the cylons, dipshit." She's ready to go, casting a brief eye on the relative strangers that have apaprently joined them for this little party.

The first burst of fullauto fire from the Centurions cuts down a few hapless civilians who happened to be over by the eastern side of the park. Bullets ding off the remnants of trailers as the two Centurions make a relentless advance.

"The hell are you talking — " Ollie and Lysander running in weird patterns has to be a sight to see, especially since she runs right into him a couple of times, and almost spills over onto the ground. Gods, they would be hell on the dance floor. "Nikos!" Frak.

"Wanna see how blank they really are?" is Garrick's response, before the zigzagging strangers catch his eye — and then, inexplicably, he bursts into booming laughter. "You sheepfrakking shitforbrains morons!" he calls. "Longer you run, more time they have to shoot you dead!"

"Of course not," Cahen replies to Diana. "But it seems prudent to at the moment." He also deems it prudent to duck, apparently, though he's obviously reluctant to watch her head off to meet the toasters. "Keep your head down. I'm not terribly in the mood to fix you."

Joanna slides into cover next to Andrew, pausing just long enough to glance over to the bizarre duo of Lys and Ollie, an incredulous look on her face. She shakes her head and opens fire on one of the Centurions.

Lysander says, "One was a beast"

Defying the odds, the two Centurions go down under the hail of bullets, though one of the denizens of the trailer park is not so fortunate. The humans don't get much respite, however, as four more Centurions come crashing in from the west. Apparently the sentry only saw two of them.

BOOMHEADSHOT. "Shit don't even kick," mutters Garrick in disgust, having pulled the trigger and watched a metalhead stagger under the force of his blow. Practiced hand jacks back the bolt; the sweet sweet smell of sulfur greets his nose as burning brass is ejected. More metal — more shooting. The man reorients himself behind his stump before firing once more.

When the bullets come ripping around, it seems that Lysander is not dropping but continuing into the crossfire as it was, still zipping and zagging, while trying to tug Ollie to the area of allies, versus enemies. And joy, Lysander makes it back just in time to see four of them come crashing through to the west. "Oh course." said with a huff of breath as he releases the botanist in favor of sweet, sweet cover. "That was the point, you killed them didn't you?" All asked in the usual Nikos bark. "WEST." Oh noes, Priest shooting time.

Jonah stays in his little formica and linoleum palace, probably the only thing that saves him from getting mowed down in the first attack. The rounds ping into the Aluminum shell of the Airstream, peppering holes up the wall. Jonah waits for the noise to subside and move on to another target before he cranes out long enough to get out one solid shot. "It's alright. Shhhh…." He tries to sound reassuring, but there's more Whirring and Clanking where that came from.

Diana settles back on her heels. The rifle making a clicking sound as she slams the bolt, then she hauls it back up to point it at the incoming crowd. "Frakking hell. Guess they like the cream-filled shit."

Thankfully, it looks like the death squad is too busy shooting the ever dangerous trailer trash to bother with frakkin' around with the priest and the botanist. Perhaps Ollie owes Hades a little chant, but whatever saved them from being shot, it sure as hell cannot be their fancy footwork. Please say it's not. Olive Pax is not a tactician, but she's pretty sure what they just did looked ridiculous anyhow. "Don't ever do that to me again." She shoves off of Lysander's arm, though if he doesn't let go, it's unlikely to be effective. She practically falls behind cover with him. Smooth.

"Hey Taibbi," Garrick grunts, eyes not leaving his target. "They're just like you."

Cahen hits absolutely nothing. But he adds to the noise, at least. He raises his weapon to fire again, but sees one of his fellow trailer denizens go down. Unlike his bumbling with the gun, his movements are fairly like clockwork at that. He stands, edging out of his crouched position, unfortunately, and bolts toward the trailer.

"Bite me, Baines," Diana grunts back, likewise keeping eyes on target.

Joanna can't tell if she hit anything or not in the hail of gunfire, but does duck down as the Centurion's burst rakes across her cover. When the two Centurions go down, she spins around to the other side to face the new ones.

Andrew fires his rifle at the first of the two centurions, smiling slightly as they both go down in a hail of bullets. That smile quickly fades as the other centurions enter his view and he randomly picks one of them to aim at. "Jo!" he calls out a warning to the woman, even though she'd have to be blind to not see the new threats.

Jonah gets a quick shot off at the new grouping of Centurians, but his heart is thudding in his chest almost as loudly as the rounds are poking holes in the trailer like it's tinfoil. He slides down with his back to the cheap veneered cabinetry, flinching as the coffee pot above his head catches a bullet and shatters in a rain of glass. Thankfully, it was empty. Futher inside the trailer, the mother is murmuring a prayer while hugging her baby, and soon Jonah's lips start moving in silent echo.

BOOMHEADSH — SHIT. Garrick doesn't flinch as Cylon lead rips through the stump in front of him. Thank the gods for thousand-year-old trees: that shit be big, yo. With a muttered curse at his pathetic gun, he's jacking out brass and shooting, aiming once more for the head. Maybe this time his bullet will do more than ping off armor.

The trailer park is awash with the din of gunfire and screams of the injured. One of the Centurions has moved away from the rest of the group, focusing on some people cowering in a trailer off to the north. One falls under the combined fire of the humans, but the other two move on, sweeping their gun arms back and forth.

Holy f'ing shit. Diana hears gunfire nearby at Garrick's position but doesn't turn her head, still plugging away at the oncoming marching things of death.

Nothing like a spray of fire to help liven things up. However as the screams come from more bullets that are literally poured into the park, the Priest seems not to be taking any chances. Scooting in a tad closer to his wee bit of rock, a bit more careful aim is directed at one of the robots o' doom. Foot idling tapping on the ground, Lysander mutters off some damned quick prayer. Lets see if he can't catch that mower and take him down a notch. Though that is hopeful thinking right there.

Cahen was apparently not just going to cower out of the way of all this, as he emerges quickly enough with a hastily-grabbed firstaid kit. He looks to the first man who fell initially. And finds many, many more have been wounded by the last blast from the Cylons. He pales. He does the only thing he can do, jogging as quickly as he can to the nearest of the injured. And/or dead. No real way to tell until one looks.

Before he has a chance to fire, Andrew catches a bullet. With his chest. Fortunately, it scraped on his right chest and nothing more. "Frak!" he still yells though, because it frakkin' hurt. At least the stupid toaster that hit him went down. And without spending too much time on it, he just aims for the next machine.

Joanna is not having much luck on the firing front, so she switches the firing selector to burst fire. There's an alarmed look over at Andrew when he's hit, eyes widening in alarm. But it takes only a moment to register that he's all right. She buries her emotions and focuses on her shooting.

"Taibbi," snarls Garrick, his peripheral vision catching Cahen rushing out the door with medkit in hand. "Tell your doc friend he's got a bag of dicks for a head." Whatever that means.

Ollie slides up form her position on the ground, missing her shot entirely. That works out, because the bullets that spray nearby also miss her! She cringes down behind cover, pistol clutched in her hands. "Oh, holy…"

"Baines, shut the frak up an-" Two bullets suddenly whizz straight into Diana's position, and a spray of blood rips in a mist from the side of her throat, another following from her chest. That white shirt is white no more. She gasps in air, barely noticing the strange bubbling sensation it makes, and with a wet-sounding cough forces her rifle back to her shoulder.

As the Centurions get closer, their aim seems to improve. Also this batch must be made of sterner stuff than the first one, because more of the human bullets seem to just bounce right off. It's Joanna who calls out, for her crew and anyone else who chooses to listen. "Fall back! Get into the forest!" She unloads a fullauto burst into the Centurions, hoping to slow them down a bit.

Whatever snarky comments Garrick has left in store are forestalled by the fact that a bullet has just ripped through his collarbone, going in and coming right out the other side before pinging against the truck behind him. Brown eyes widen as he sees Diana get hit too, and then he's loosing one last shot before attempting to move over to her side — and, happily, toward the forest — keeping low all the while.

His round hits true catching a certain Centurion right in the gut. However its lost as he catches the attention of another "Get down!" said back on over towards Ollie as one hand reaches to move the Botanist out of the way. However in doing so, two rounds catch the Priest. One in the chest and the other in the arm, which sends him down and back, hard. Blood easily spattering on the woman he just got in front of. Apparently Nikos has something of a soul- or some such. There's a grumble as he is dazedly, reaching for his gun. "Huh.." wheezed out..Not so much of a curse, as amazement, before he is shooting off, erratically. Covering fire anyone?

Before Ollie can get up to retarget, a swath of bullets peels past her again and slams into the ground, some of it smashing into her partial cover. She reaches over to take Lysander's arm to help him up as Jo calls for a fall back, extremely reluctant to get to her feet under the hail of bullets. "I am never leaving the farm without a rifle again. I am never leaving the farm without a rifle again." It's a quiet mantra. The intensity increases when her hand comes away from Lysander's arm sticky with his blood. She pants a few heavy breaths, trying to ignore that spatter of blood across her face. "Get up, get up." Want to see her try to drag him toward the treeline? Hint: She'll get about 3 feet.

"Diana!" Cahen's head snaps up from the spot where he was kneeling by one of the denizens of the trailer. Who was apparently beyond his help at this point. His hands are shaking now. He clenches them, in an attempt to stop that. He heads over to join Diana and Garrick, looking them both over in a manner that he attempts to keep clincal. Assisting them in falling back to the forest. Oh, yes. Time to go.

Andrew can't resist firing off one more shot before hastily scrambling to follow Joanna's orders. He winces at the pain of movement, but just pushes on through it. Rifle in hand, pack still over his shoulder, he runs towards the treeline, catching sight of the priest and the botanist trying to lead him to cover. He alters his path enough to attempt to help them, ignoring for now the voice in the back of his head - it sounds like Jo's - which tells him to just leave them.

"Son of a bitch." Diana's voice isn't wholly recognisable as hers, with her throat bleeding down the side of her shirt. She coughs again, spitting blood onto the ground and starting to try to move back with Garrick and Cahen. This does not mean she stops shooting. That thing is going the frak down.

Garrick's eyes sweep up and down Taibbi's body — just a brief glance — before he falls back, moving in lockstep with the woman beside him. "Now you got an excuse for that tit job you always wanted." This, to Diana, with — of all things — barked laughter. His rifle's still at his shoulder — his good shoulder, fortunately. This'll be a fighting retreat. Let more shooting commence.

As the humans head for the trees, one of the Centurions goes down, but two more become visible at the edge of the treeline to the east. Fortunately their attentions are occupied on other hapless victims, and so they do not immediately fire upon the fleeing group.

"Of all the things you bitch about, Baines, my tits have never been one of 'em." Diana has to pull in a couple gasps of air as she talks, another cough causing some droplets of blood to dot her boots. She edges backwards in practiced time with him, training her rifle up again.

Jonah ushers the mother and baby towards the treeline, firing to cover their escape.

Andrew runs to Ollie and Lysander, turning just long enough to get off another shot before offering a free hand to help the botanist get the priest mobile enough to get them back into the treeline. The adrenaline is really pumping now, and he doesn't even notice his own wound anymore.

Cahen tries not to wince as he looks Diana over. He doesn't succeed. But his hands aren't shaking anymore, at least. He preps some makeshift bandages from his kit for when they've got a moment to pause. "If you could aim that thing in a way where I can have a look at that, please," he says to her wryly. The worry in his tone is evident.

"Can't bitch 'bout what I can't see," Garrick snaps back. "Now shut the frak up before you get all broke-dick and start bleedin' on me. Yo Doc, think you could stick some silicone in her while you work?"

Joanna continues firing on the Centurions, darting back from one piece of cover to the next as she joins in the covering of their retreat. She doesn't really see Andrew deviating from the straight escape path to help Ollie and Lys, or else it probably would be more than just a voice in the back of his head yelling at him. She yells at one of the stragglers, "Get going!"

Treeline, they almost haz it. Diana does her best to let Cahen do his thing while trying to move at the same time, ending up slamming his chest with her elbow once or twice. "Ibrahim, move your frakkin ass. Do your hoodoo later!"

Whilst Lysander's resisting, Ollie takes it upon herself to shove him harder, with Andrew's help, and drags the priest toward the treeline. There's a good chance she'll start tasing his ass if he doesn't move it. Drag, drag, drag, shove. While she can't reach his chest wound, she has a look at the arm on the move. First aid, go!

No more banter from Garrick, who's stepping out in front of Diana and the doctor to shield them from the oncoming bullets. He got the thing the last time around; maybe this time he'll be just as lucky.

Joanna watches one of the last remaining trailer park defenders get peppered with a half-dozen bullets, going down like a ragdoll. Her mouth tightens at the sight, and she empties the rest of her clip into the advancing Centurions. During one of her dashes between cover, a bullet catches her in the side, through her lower ribs. She cries out and staggers forward into something metal, lingering there for a moment before limping further towards the forest. Her face is a mask of pain, and she's not firing any more.

"Move your ass, priest!" Andrew shouts, even though he's right next to the man. There's no time for subtlety. And as soon as he and Ollie get Lysander to the treeline, he's turning back, to make sure Jo is there too. Eyes going wide at the sight of her injuries, and he fires off another shot at the Centurians, trying to provide her cover. "Jo!"

"I'm not giving you advice on shooting, I'd appreciate the same courtesy," Cahen rejoins to Diana, clipped tone a rather clear demonstration of how jarred he is. He does what he can for the moment, but this sort of thing will need to be dealt with when not fleeing. And flee he does.

"That wasn't advice," Diana barks at Cahen. Rifle lifted, she tries to get the last covering fire in to get them to the trees…

The Centurions pepper a few more bullets into the treeline, but don't seem inclined to pursue the fleeing humans. Maybe they took too many casualties for their liking. They focus on mopping up those unfortunate souls still trapped in the trailer park.

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