Warday -- The Resistance at Gladwell Resort Part 1
Warday — The Resistance at Gladwell Resort Part 1
Summary: Poolside at the Gladwell Resort, an odd mix of folks gather only to realize all hell just broke loose.
Date: MD056 (18 Apr 2009)
Related Logs: None

Poolside is a retreat unto itself, not tucked up against the main building, but rather a fair distance down a winding path of landscaped beds. Surrounded by natural flagstone, the sparkling water is a deep blue lagoon of inviting respite. Long enough to qualify as a lap pool, there is also a deep end complete with a springboard that looks like a white tongue extending over the water's depths. A rocky waterfall provides soothing sounds, spilling into a deep pocket at the edge of the pool that acts as a hottub. For reclining, there are a myriad of lounge chairs with deep comfortable cousions and tables with hunter Green umbrellas spread out to provide perfect shade. At night, the pool is lit from within, as well as subtle lights tucked into the landscaping.

It's a beautiful afternoon heading into later spring. White puffy clouds float across the sky while the sun shines down onto the denizens of Scorpia.

Bia is stretched out in one of the lounge chairs, baking in the sun with a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. There's a slight sheen to her skin from the ample use of suntan oil, a pink drink in a hurricane glass at hand, and a little white rat of a toy poodle dog curled up between her designer shoe clad feet. Can life get better than this?

Anthem sits at one of the bars by the pool, hunched over a three-fourths full glass of whatever beer the hotel has on tap. He leans on one arm, which seems to protect the beer, while he runs other hand over his nearly nonexistant hair.

In one of those other chairs, one with one of those umbrellas to provide the shade by it, Banks can be found. A glass of some kind of strong drink in one hand, and a paperback book in the other, he's leaning back in his chair, reading a bit thoughtfully.

Also at the bar is one Homer. While he has himself a drink, it's neither a beer nor a pink frilly frou frou. No, he has a nice mug of cider or something along those lines and some Triad cards laid out on the bar in front of him that he keeps fidgeting with. Occassionally he glances down the bar at Anthem, but mostly he stares at Bia and her rat dog.

Bia sighs overdramatically as someone passes by the end of her chair, her little dog Strudel doing his part by giving a little snarl. "Hello? You're blocking my sun." Bethany's tone sounds vaguely annoyed and vaguely bored, giving her the overall air of someone who is used to getting her way. "Bartender, make yourself useful and get me another drink."

Anthem takes a sip of his beer, then stretches his shoulders and neck. Feeling eyes on the back of his neck, he lazy looks at Homer for a few heartbeats before returning to contemplate his beer. Or whatever else the man might be contemplating.

Banks takes a sip from his drink, frowning a little bit as he turns the page in the book. Glancing up for a few moments, he looks over at some of the other people present, expression darkening very momentarily, before he looks back to the book.

"Hey. Beautiful. Your lips are moving. You might want to address that," Homer says, glancing Bia's way briefly with a snarky sort of smile on his face before glancing down at Anthem again. "Hey pops, you play?" He indicates the cards on the bartop.

Bia lets her head lull to the side, a finger lifting to snag the arm of her sunglasses and tug them lower so she can find Homer over the tops of them. It's a quick glance to ascertain whether or not she should care about who just called her beautiful, nevermind the fact he told her to shut her yap. Apparently the answer is 'nope', for she shoves her glasses back onto her nose and gives him the lazy middle finger and she goes back to sunbathing. And of course, a drink is delivered on a little tray by staff.

"Pops?" Hollas drawls, rising to his feet. "Yeah, I have been known to play a few hands." He drinks a good portion of his beer, then, glass in hand, he moves towards Homer. "Just not for money. I hate gettin' frakin' hustled."

"Frakking book. Isn't really worth the money spent on it…" Banks mutters to himself as he closes the book and puts it away. Draining the rest of his drink now, he grimaces a little bit, leaning further back in the chair, and closing his eyes.

Raising his hands in surrender, Homer gives Hollas a genuine smile and says, "Alright. No money. How about beer nuts." Reaching for and taking a sip of his hard cider, he asks, "You prefer something other than pops? I can make something up. You can call me Homer."

The TV over the bar runs through commercials, the Colonial Sports Network currently on a break. As one ends, another flickers on: A long-running commercial for Gatoral Toothpaste, the woman brushing her teeth and looking rather displeased and completely unsatisfied. "Do you feel like this in the-" The screen freezes for a moment and a newsflash appears on the screen with the words 'Breaking News' and it cuts back to a CSN Sportscaster. "Ladies and gentlemen we're going to cut feed to the Colonial News Network now to bring you a story developing on Caprica.. Sam?" The screen slides into the CNN newsroom known to most and Sam Alderman appears looking a bit rushed. "Yes, thanks John. We have developing reports of a situation on Caprica." He figets in his seat, blinking a few times at the teleprompter. "It would appear that some sort of large explosion has been seen coming from Caprica City only a few minutes ago. Scattered reports from news stations and private citizens report seeing a bright flash from the city but nothing more as yet. Currently we are trying to reach our main office there but it would appear that all communications are down for the moment…" The man taps at an unseen earpiece for a moment, his eyes casting down as he tries to make sense of what he is hearing.

There's a little musical tinkling, and Bia drops her hand down to blindly grope at the flagstone until her hand closes over a little blinged out pink cellular phone. Flicking it open, she holds it to her ear and merely says, "Talk." She's quiet for a moment and then, "Hello? Hellooooo? Ugh. Frakker." Apparently whoever it was got disconnected, and little Miss Self Absorbed really isn't paying attention to the newsfeed.

Anthem finishes his beer, putting the glass on the bar counter as he finds a seat next to Homer. "Beer nuts work," he grunts. "Name's Anthem Hollas. Anthem. Hollas. Either works. I'd appreciate it if you didn't decide to get too creative." There's a lopsided grin at that, so it's hard to say how serious the man is being. "Beer here is-" he starts, then stops as the news feed distracts him - never finishing the thought. His face becomes grim and he crosses his arms.

"You want me to call you Beer Nuts- oh. Good to meetcha, Anthem." Homer is about to open his mouth to comment on the beer himself when the newscast comes on. "Something tells me this isn't a preview to one of those new television shows airing in the fall… or if it is, it's going to really suck."

Banks opens one eye as he hears those things from the TV, before he opens the other eye, getting to his feet, and starting to move over in the direction of the bar. "What the…" he begins.

A dark haired woman wanders into the area, a cigarette dangling from her lips, just in time for the start of the news broadcast. She glances over, seeming only vaguely interested in the actual topic of the report. The scent of spicy smoke wafts slowly around the area as a little piece of urban life enters in the form of Salazar. She's the type the woods should reject on principle.

Bia watches Banks move off towards the bar, and slowly her head swivels in that direction. What? The men are paying more attention to sports then her laid out here in a bikini? Tsk. We just can't have that. Her cellphone is plunked back down next to her untouched drink and Strudel's cute little pink leash is snatched up. Swinging her feet over the side of the chair, she gets to her feet in a fluid movement of someone who is far to used to strutting around in dangerously thin heels. "Hello? What's a girl gotta do to get fresh towels around here?" The click of heels accompanies the tiny stacatto of toy poodle feet as the pair approach the bar too.

The newscaster nods a few more times. "Right, okay." His eyes lift back to the screen. "We now have similar reports coming from Picon and Aerilon. Apparently both Seminole, the location of Colonial Fleet Headquarters on Picon, and Mardiso, Aerilon's capital, have suffered similar.. failures?" He furrows his brow. "We aren't sure what is happening at the moment. It could be some sort of large electrical disturbance but we can't say with any clarity at the mome-" He taps the earpiece once more. "We have live footage coming from a station outside Caprica City right now so we're going to take you to Wally Silberstone in the field. Wally? What have you got for us?" The screen that appears freezes in and out as the transmission is interrupted and reconnected. The newsman's suit is missing his tie and his toupee looks like its barely holding on. He's standing on the side of a road with the camera point over his shoulder to the highway which has hundreds of cars blatantly ignoring speed limits and running from the city. "Sam, it would appear that there is some sort of large scale evacuation of Caprica City. As you can see behind me we ha.." his voice fades as approaching sirens drown him out. A line of emergency vehicles including fire and rescue numbering upwards of twenty in varying intervals dash past while poor Wally tries to hold his toupee against the wind.

Anthem reaches into a pocket and pulls out a military id, slamming it on the bar counter. "Colonial military," he growls at the bartender. "You got a frakkin' phone or somethin' around here?" Half an eye flickers back to the news, keeping a tab on both. In between all of that, he finds time to shoot Homer an annoyed look. His body language oozes barely restrained tension as begins snapping his fingers at the bartender, not allowing a reasonable amount of time to pass. "I don't have all day." Without really looking at her, he snaps "Shaddup!" at Bia.

"Anyone else have that sinking feeling?" Homer asks rhetorically, eyes on the television… til Anthem outs himself. His brows screw up and he says, "What the crap, you're a fed?" Gathering up his cards, he shoves them in his pocket and starts sucking back his cider as fast as possible, looking for all the world like he's readying himself to run. One might note the smile on his face as he guzzles when Anthem snaps at Bia.

Opening his mouth as if to say something, Banks closes it again, as he hears the ongoing report, and looks to the screen again, more intently now. Expression turning a bit set in stone, for the moment, as he just stands there, watching the TV carefully for the moment.

Bia thrusts her bottom lip out, going a little slack-jawed with her grunt of, "Hunh". She eyes the back of Anthem's head with a 'how dare you' burning in her gaze. It's the sirens on the TV that finally catch her attention, and pull her out of her little self important bubble, if only for a quick nip at the fresh air out there. "Is that Caprica City? Oh my gods, is that Caprica City?" A hand drops down to Homer's shoulder as Bia tips up on tiptoes to try and see over him to the screen. At her feet, Strudel starts to yap excitedly as the tension in the group is mounting.

Sirens whizzing past, Wally recovers, looking back at them for a brief glance at their disappearance before his gaze returns to the camera and the cars. "As I was saying, we have huge numbers of people fleeing the city and nobody looks to be stopping." A man with his window rolled down leans out and yells at the newscaster: "Get the frak out of here!" He looks frantic in a short second he can be seen whizzing past. Wally glances to him, confounded. "I'm not sure how to explain that but- Hmm." He looks past the camera. "It looks like whatever has happened has warranted the attention of the military." The camera swings back to an approaching wheeled armored personnel carrier, soldiers dressed in gasmasks standing in the coupalas. It speeds by, the soldiers not waving or looking particularly ready for chats as they might usually. It follows the same path as the emergency vehicles before. When the camera pans back, something can be seen floating into view over Wally's shoulder.. Far in the distance it would appear to be a dark cloud slowly building as it floats into view past some small trees and begins to take a recognizable shape. The cameraman breaks his silence. "Oh shit, Wal," he gasps.

Salazar's eyes are definitely on the feed now. Her eyes flick to Anthem, and stay there for a long moment. She approaches the bar, at last, and intones, somewhat flatly, "I'm gonna need a drink."

"Looks like the end of the world, pudding," Homer says, slamming down his empty glass. Standing, he hops off his stool and providing there's no resistance, he grabs up Bia and sets her down on his old stool. "There. Front seating. Enjoy!" Glancing Anthem's way, he says, "You didn't strike me as a complete tool, so. Take care, man." And then off he goes, right past Sal, who gets a good oggling on his way out. Also? He grabs a coat someone carelessly left unattended on the back of a chair as he goes.

Banks frowns a bit more as he hears that, narrowing his a bit carefully, before he glances at the others. Shaking his head a bit more, "Terrorism of some kind?" he says, a bit absently.

"What the frak is a dog doing here?" Anthem snarls, glaring at Bia with all the fury a marine drill sergeant can muster. "Shut it up along with yerself, miss." Hands curling into fists, he looks back at the screen only to be handed a phone by the bartender. The man manages a polite nod to the bartender as well as Homer, and dials in a number. He waits, then dials it again. After the fourth time, he hurls the phone against a wall. "Frak. Frak, frak, frak." Looking at Banks, he shakes his head. "Too coordinated for Terrorists. Caprica, Picon, Aerilon, Fleet HQ. Even the most successful of them, like Zarek, couldn't have pulled that off."

The only protest from Bia is a little squeak and a quick tangle and untangle of her dog's leash as he dances between people's feet. Bia isn't really used to being manhandled, so she just sort of sits on the stool and blinks owlishly in as much shock over the sudden musical chairs as what's going on on the screen. It takes her a moment for her to shake away the dumb-blonde-despite-being-a-brunette look, "Maybe it's just a prank." She says, without much enthusiasm or belief to her words. "Wait, where are you going?" Bethany calls after Homer, incredulous that he's abandoning her at a time like this. Nevermind they've never actually /met/. "I'm on vacation!" She squeaks again to Anthem.

"You should look into stress management, marine." Salazar can tell. She doesn't have to look at the ID. "Leave the civilians alone before you take the shine off of their idea of the Colonial Marine Corps." If sarcasm could be bottled, she'd be rich. She does, however, finally look to Bia. "The world is an unfair place." If a drink isn't forthcoming shortly, she reaches over the bar herself.

Wally is just turning around when there is an impossible light from behind the cameraman. The men start screaming as a wall of wind strikes them, sending the camera airborne a hudred feet into the air before the feed cuts abpurtly. There's static for a few moments before the feed back to Sam at the CNN newsroom returns. The may looks positively ashen. "It would appear we've lost Wally.. in the field." He stares at the teleprompter for a few more moments. "Ladies and Gentlemen.. I, uh.. I'm being asked to inform you that we are under attack. That is an official statement coming from sources within the fleet and has been corroborated by numerous sources.." He swallows hard. "Saggittaron, Aerilon, Picon.. Gemenon.. Every colony is reporting wide-spread explosions. Ah.." As if to puncuate it, a flight of six Colonial Vipers streak past heading south towards the cities and towns. The altitude is just over the treetops, the engines howling at full afterburner. The rumble knocks over some beer bottles and rattles the windows across the whole resort.

Banks nods a little bit at Anthem's words, before the TV confirms that, and he frowns a bit, "Question now is… who…" he comments, before he glances over in Bia's direction, momentarily. "Most people probably are, over here," he remarks, before he looks back to the TV again.

"I'm getting out of here before the Metal comes down on our heads, Sweet Cheeks," Homer offers Bia's way, turning and giving her a wave goodbye as he shrugs on his new coat. "Much as I believe in my machismo, I don't think it could survive a nuclear blast…" Pause. "Maybe if I got some lead lined underpants."

"Eh, frak you," Hollas says to Salazar with no real feeling. He looks up at the sky. "Vipers from the airbase." Addition goes on in his eyes. and one and one eventually equals two. "Oh, frak. Not that," he states softly. "I think I'm gonna need a drink, too." He plops down in a seat, wind out of his sails. "We get local?" Although, now he's paying more attention to the sky to the east than the actual news. He grins a Homer, a humorless smile. "This place is too unimportant to blow up." But, seemingly, something eastwards might be.

Bia's voice goes up an octave or three, "Nuclear blast!?" The naturally olive-toned woman is looking a little pale, and she bends down to scoop up her little pup for comfort. The little rat dog gives her cheek a couple of quick licks, then seemingly glares at Anthem, if dogs are capable of such things. "I have a shoot next week, there can't be a nuclear blast." Because that would inconvenience her, dammit.

Salazar looks up as the feed says the words she really didn't want to hear. She grins a little, but without much humor, as Anthem replies. She takes a swig from the bottle procured from the bar back, and tips it to the marine. "I'm not sharing." She tips her wrist to check her watch, as if the time matters right now. Apparently, it does. She watches the second hand tick by, tick, tick tick.

The TV is drowned out my the Vipers momentarily but hearing returns with: "..uclear detonations. No word yet from the fleet as to who or what we are facing." Sam looks to the desk and a few scattered papers before looking back up. "We have word now that some cities are being bombed from high altitude but nobody seems to know from where. I'm going to assume that-" And then the transmission cuts to static. It fizzles ominously, the black and white snow dancing across the LCD. Far to the south, on the other side of the Resort there is the sound of something akin to ripping burlap faintly piercing the sky.

Banks grimaces a bit at these happenings, before he frowns, "I think most of all here could need a drink… Or more…" Glancing over to Bia, he shakes his head a little bit, "Looks like that got rescheduled," he remarks. Stepping the rest of the way over to the bar, as he hears those sounds from the south, then glances back to the TV. "Looks like that one's useless now…"

"No offense, Mr. Colonial Military, but given how—" And Homer points to the now static-fed LCD television, "Fast things seem to be falling apart? I don't think anywhere is safe. But I'll bet the forest is safer than sitting here."

Anthem snorts at Salazar as he finds a bottle of beer behind the counter. "Really, though, frak you," he grumbles at the city girl as he twists off the lid. He looks up at the sky and grimaces. "Y'know, Homer, you're prolly right. Might be smart to raid the pantry and find a nice cave," he says. "That, or find a shuttle. Ain't no way the Cylons can beat the Colonial Fleet. Battlestars will send them running soon enough." He frowns a moment, saying something he didn't mean to. "We're a little close for comfort to Ambrose Airbase, if the nukes are dirty." He stands up. "Unless someone has a better idea." Crossing his arms, he looks at Homer. "And, it's Gunnery Sergeant if you want to be particular. You do know my name, after all."

Bia's bottom lip thrusts out a bit and starts to tremble, her eyes quickly brimming with tears as they do when she doesn't get what she wants. But in this case? She doesn't even know what she wants. "Turn it off. Turn the TV off! That static is hurting my ears." Nevermind the squad of Vipers that just rolled out overhead. "I don't like this anymore." The word 'Cylon' being tossed out by Anthem doesn't win him any love from the model.

Salazar's head tips up at the sound from the South. She takes the bottle, turns, and takes off at a run. "Assess, Gunny. That other thing? Not likely." Though it's impossible for the gathered to know, Sal's headed on her way to find some higher ground and have a look. Can't do anything about it, but there's always that need to see death coming. Plus, she doesn't like small dogs! Sorry, Peanut. Er, Baklava. Er… Pasty?

The TV flickers back on to a different feed from CNN. There's no reporter. Just the camera set neatly on the ground. In view is what looks like a Colonial Marine on his knees, gear in hand and facing away from the camera. It looks like it could be the remains of Alerilon's capitol in the background, the smoking hulks of once-tall and brilliant skyscrapers burned out and toppled. http://media.battlestarwiki.org/images/7/7a/Lest_we_forget.jpg

"Sorry, Gunnery Surgeon. I guess I was distracted by the apocalypse going on," Homer says with a bitterly sweet smile on his face. Throwing up his hands, he says, "Anyway. I'm out." He heads on towards the exit then, pace even but purposeful.

Looking reaching over the bar to get hold of a few of those beer bottles, and pocketing two of them, Banks looks around at those still present. "What do you suggest we do?" he offers to Anthem, before he looks over at Bia. "Look, miss. You don't have to like it, but you just got to accept it. What's happened can't be changed, believe me." Sounding a bit bitter at that last sentence, perhaps.

Anthem guzzles his beer, studiously avoiding looking at the screen. He puts the empty bottle on the counter. "Ain't no apocalypse. Catastrophe, sure, but the world ain't ending. That would mean we were gonna lose," Anthem states with a lopsided grin, sure of himself. "Now, if I were you folks, and I ain't, I'd go back to your rooms. Put on something durable and comfortable. Pack a second set of clothes, but pack light. Then get as much food and water as you can fit - stuff that ain't gonna go bad. And no reason to rush, a few minutes shouldn't make a big difference. If you're gonna panic, just make sure to keep it light. Then, um, we should prolly meet in the reception. Find us a guide from the hotel staff." He smirks at Bia. "And, try to keep the clothes practical. Hikin' in that will end badly." Homer gets mostly ignored. "We don't know how long we'll be roughing it, so the better prepared we can be now will help us down the line."

Bia glances around as people start to leave, and she's quite unsure of what to do with herself. Her narrow shoulders shudder involuntarily as a chill creeps up her spine, "My brother, I can't leave. My brother was supposed to drive up and meet me here today." She says, sounding a little numb. There's a spanse of time that she's quiet, maybe considering his words, but one sticks in her head. "Practical?"

A light as bright as a second sun appears on the horizon to the east, over the horizon and seen through the trees. Not blinding, but it would make most look away. The light blinks once in a quickly building pulse before rapidly fading. Everywhere around the Resort, birds take to the sky and fly in random directions. Quite a few seconds later, the entire ground trembles, slowshing water out of the pool and shattering a few windows inside Gladwell. A couple liquor bottles topple from the bar, shattering on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, waving the treetops back towards the direction of the bright flash.

Banks nods as he hears that, glancing around for a few moments. "Good…" And then that flash, and the trembling ground, and he stumbles a bit, reaching out for that bar to grab hold of it for a few moments. "Just do what he says," he comments to Bia, before he adds, "If your brother was driving during that…" The trembling a few moments ago, "…he's probably crashed or something. You want to wait here for someone that might never come, or get to relative safety somewhere?"

Anthem's face becomes impassive at the explosion, after instinctively looking away. For a few heartbeats, he looks on the verge of tears. He stands rigid, almost ignoring the shockwave. "Yes, miss, practical. Something that can put up with wear and tear, and protects your skin." He pauses, shaking his head and seeming distant. "With a bit of luck, your brother is close and will show up. You can wait, or leave him a note, if he doesn't make it in time."

At the rumble and the light, and the wind and the destruction, Bia hugs her little pooch closer to her chest so it's hard to tell who is whimpering, her or Strudel. "He'll come." She says quietly, sounding matter-of-fact. She might not be certain of a lot of things, but she seems adament that her brother will make it. "He /has/ to. I'll go back to my room, I guess." She just blinks, mentally rolling through her wardrobe as if nothing in there would even come close to qualifying.

Banks nods a little bit, as he moves to look around for a few moments, shaking his head a little, as he moves towards the way back towards the rooms, to get hold of whatever he might need now.

Anthem nods slowly. "I'll get my stuff together, liase with the staff." He hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his pants. "And I will see what the food situation in these parts looks like." He looks towards Bia. "If you can't find practical, borrow something. Or take something." With that, he starts moving towards the reception.

Bia steps off the stool, teetering unevenly for a moment on her heels. "C'mon, Strudel. Mommy needs a pick me up." She murmurs, dazedly walking back to her lounge chair to retrieve her belongings. As if by habit, she flips open the phone and tries to get reception. By the way she keeps hitting the redial button as she ambles off towards the lodge, she's not having any luck.

Banks was hurrying towards the main lodge, passing there now.

Anthem trudges back to his room.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License