Whirrr Clunk Whirrr Clunk
Whirrr Clunk Whirrr Clunk
Summary: The Resistance encounters some unusual activity a little too close for comfort.
Date: PH064 (21 June 2009)
Related Logs: None

Scorpia, Gladwell Road
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #64
OOC Time: Sun Jun 21 16:34:26 2009

Better cared-for than most other roads in the region, it is readily apparent that Scorpia's transit authority didn't maintain this stretch of tarmac. The smooth black asphalt is lined with tall Aspens for the couple dozen miles it covers. It is even devoid of the typical lines that cover most roads, leaving the asphalt to melt into the shade provided in the daytime by the trees. A small barrier of green grass slopes down on either side of the elevated roadway while it turns lazily through the terrain. Near Highways 606 and 214, there are a pair of abandoned security cars blocking the road a mile from the intersection, the insignia on the side denoting their affiliation to be apart of Gladwell Resort. Large-caliber bullet holes pepper the sides nearer the highways, exit holes out the other sides. The roadway underneath is stained dark with motor oil and gasoline, all tires shredded by the hail of gunfire. Weather has streaked and dried blood across the hood of one.

The late afternoon finds Gladwell Road quiet, through there are some fresh roadside tire tracks on the shoulder of the road. The wreck of the nearby security cars serves as a reminder of thing that happened during the days just following the bombs. Things around the lodge have been quiet, but one of the perimeter guards heard something from down this way earlier. It had to be quite the racket to travel up to the lodge.

Anthem slowly makes his way through the trees at the side of Gladwell road. A SMI-80 is in hand, and a Milirem 4700 is slung over his shoulder. The faintest of jangling comes from his pockets, leading one to suspect that he's carrying extra ammunition. Not exactly Colonial Marine Corps standard issue, but the Gunny is prepared for a fight.

Banks follows not far behind Anthem, moving as silently as he can for the moment. Looking around rather carefully, before he looks up to the trees as well, then back down again.

A curious chuff from the hound dog that trots along the road-side, snuffling at the dug-in wheel tracks along the side of the road as he alerts his master of their presence. Dmitri, wearing a ghille suit in greens and browns, is mostly concealed along the treeline as he makes his way through the region, the dog as much bait as scout. He's been living off on his own, for the most part, living off the land as best he can. Clearly, he's been drawn by the disturbance as well, bolt-action rifle kept low as he investigates the area.

Angel's not that far behind Anthem, having earlier alerted Achilles about the problem. She's got herself a SMI-80, a pistol tucked away under her shirt, as always. She's prepared, pack slung over her shoulders. Reaching out, she taps the Gunny's shoulder lightly, quirking a brow.

Ah yes, Achilles. The odd duck is out amongst with the others having followed Angel out. However he is not moving about the road or even near where the other individuals are. Rather the sneaky bastard is in amongst the trees moving as quietly as he possibly can through the woods.

From across the road, there is a faint whirrr clunk. Whirrr clunk. Though the aspens and ground cover hide the source from view, it's close enough that whatever is approaching through the trees will be on the road very shortly.

Banks pauses a little as he hears the sounds, and looks over at the woods across the road. "Did anyone else hear that?" he asks, looking between the others a bit carefully.

Angel, of course, is utterly clueless. Her attention is in the -opposite- direction. "Mmmm," she asks, voice low and quiet as she looks to Banks. "Hear what?"

A short, sharp whistle from the trees. The dog - Cerberus - lifts his head, and slips off the side of the road, vanishing into the grasses to move stealthfully to his master's side. Dmitri crouches down in the grass and underbrush, taking full advantage of his concealment, the Milrem rifle lifted a bit as he looks off in the direction of the sound approaching, eyes narrowing behind the draping reeds and fronds of his suit.

Achilles is rather intensenly focused on not making any noise himself, so he continues to move through the woods along a flank towards the others. A soft step prevents him from snapping a twig, and from noticing any shenanigans.

Anthem chambers a round into his SMI, then turns to look at Banks. "No," he says, brows furrowing. He looks around. "You heard something?"

There's a glimpse through the trees of a tall metal shape moving alongside the road before the Centurion turns to cut for the road. There is a window of approximately fifteen seconds for anyone who sees it to take evasive action, because then the chrome form steps out onto the opposite side of the road, and then into the road itself. It doesn't seem to be searching, and doesn't cast about for targets, but instead cuts directly across the road, headed for what turns out to be a fairly obvious, and fresh, path through the trees. At the roadside, it's about five feet across.

Banks nods, "Some kind of clanking sound…" he replies, glancing around for a few more moments. "I suggest we hide or something, just in case?" And he hurries off to find a position behind some trees and bushes, a bit further into the woods.

At the sight of the chromed figure, Dmitri's eyes widen in the shadows of his ghille suit. Frak. His father was right after all. Looks like he owes him one for a lifetime of paranoia. One hand resting on his hound's neck to keep Cerberus calm and silent despite the tail tucking between his legs, he hunkers down in silence and waits for the Centurion to pass on.

In the process of hiding her ass behind a tree and getting cover, Angel just -stares- at Banks. For a moment, she points her gun at him, then thinks better of it and settles in to hide.

Anthem spots the Centurion and quickly half-dashes, half-crawls to the nearest tree. In the process, he manages to step on a branch. It breaks with the sound of a gunshot. The marines freezes for a fraction of a second before finishing the move. He takes a few deep breathes, heart pounding heavily, as he waits for the Centurion to try to shred the tree in a hail of bullets. In the meantime, he makes a motion with his hand with just his index finger, as though he were saying 'one.' He then points in the direction the Cylon was moving.

Achilles catches glint and has enough time to crouch down into the bushes he is by. His eyes observe the metal mechanical monstrosity with a combination of curiousity and awe as he remains where he is. "Identical.." He whispers under his breath.

Whirr clunk, whirr clunk. The sound of the Centurions metal steps and take it heavily across the road, the red light of its eye sensors swishing back and forth, back and forth as it faces forward, and makes its way across the road and into the path, which is actually quite obvious once you're atop it.

There are no sounds from the woods beyond, at least not audible here. The centurion remarkably doesn't seem to note any of the Resistance folks making with the hidey at the side of the road, so intent is it upon its mission. Until the twig snaps. The Centurion pauses, does a brief sweep of its head, body turning back toward the road. It stands for a moment, heavy feet stilled, until it turns, with a whirrr to continue on its path, deeper into the woods.

This isn't the first time activity such as this has come close to the lodge, but it's clear from reports of noise and activity, as evidenced by this path, the area has been well traveled in recent days. One question remains for the humans. Follow, fight, or flee?

The answer, at least from the man draped in leaves and vines and dyed leather, is simple - follow. "Stay," Dmitri whispers a command to his hound, who obediently hunkers down to lay in the grass, before he himself rises slightly and begins to make his way off to the road's side. The soft rustling of the ghille suit making him obvious once he's on the asphalt, rifle and head both low as he hustles to cross to the other side, intending to trail the Centurion at a distance.

Anthem decides that he's not going to get shot to pieces after a few moments. He then quickly moves to the road, attempting to flank the Centurions while using wrecked cars for cover.

Banks pauses for a few moments as the Centurion makes its way, moving his way over in that general driection rather quietly for now. Glancing back towards the others.

Since everyone else seems intent on moving around, Achilles remains where he is at in his bushes. Eyes watching very carefully as the Centurion moves about.

Angel isn't exactly the military type and she's not fond of Centurions, either. She slips through the trees a little closer to the path, more interested in investigating where the thing's going than shooting it dead. For now.

The Centurion continues on deeper into the woods, following the path as it wends slightly, and the large metal figure is out of sight, at least from the road. It's footsteps are less and less audible as it moves on. Its path takes it roughly parallel to the Lodge grounds, deeper into the forested area.

Dmitri heads after the robotic menace, moving through the woods stealthfully and blending in when he can; keeping a fair distance as he parallels the stalk of the Centurion, keeping his rifle low but ready. It's heading somewhere, after all.

Similar to Dmitri, Banks follows after the metal monster, a bit inside the wood from the path of the piece of metal, frowning a bit as he moves further into the woods.

Anthem flicks off the safety on his assault rifle, and slowly trots after the Centurion. He's not exactly stealthy, but is hugging cover as best he can.

The Centurion continues on through the woods, its relentless gait going further and further into the trees. It shows no signs of stopping or slowing. Just a stroll through the woods? Doubtful.

Angel creeps deeper into the underbrush, doing something similar to what Dimitri is. It's not about making oneself known, it's about the intel, clearly, at least for Angel. She's little and quick.

Achilles, still on his haunches, finally springs forward to advance a bit through the brush as the metal skirts the edge of his vision. As silently as possible he trails the others as well, looking behind at times attempting to see what may be coming from behind beyond just in front.

Banks makes his way along as well, glancing over at where he sees some of the others, then back towards the front again.

The light sounds of some sort of construction echo around, the sound bouncing off of trees as the advance of Centurion and Resistance followers makes its way through the woods. The perked ears of most of the Resistance make out this sound except, perhaps, the man with the thumbed off safety. Any early recons of this area before would have revealed it to be fairly heavily wooded, so these sounds are somewhat incongruous with the topography of the area. It's a mystery that will be solved soon, if the Centurion isn't stopped in the next two minutes.

Angel's brow furrows slightly as she cants her head to the side. Construction? She glances toward Anthem then Banks, as if to ascertain whether or not they've heard it too.

Banks makes his way along, stopping at the sound of that construction. Glancing back to the others, he frowns for a couple more moments, before he makes his way forward again. No shooting yet, it would seem. Solving of mysteries sounds like something that should be done first, at least in his mind.

Anthem continues to approach the Centurion, and finds cover behind yet another wrecked car. He raises his rifle, and opens fire - a quick three round burst.

Anthem continues to approach the Centurion, and finds cover behind yet another tree. He raises his rifle, and opens fire - a quick three round burst.

Achilles is still a good distance away, and without a weapon anyway so his movements continue to carry him along. The sound of construction, of something draws his focus however and he begins to drift in that direction.

Dmitri's fingers curl about something on the ground, lifting it to consider… and then his jaw sets, and he drops it, the rifle coming up. As he sets its sights upon the cylon, he narrows his eyes, taking aim.

Banks pauses for a few moments, grimacing as he hears the shots go off, and then carefully takes aim for the Cylon, frowning as he does.

Oblivious to its new fate, the Centurion takes a step forward, just like any other step forward, and the silence of the late afternoon is shattered by a hail of bullets. Anthem either had blessed bullets, or the Gods were smiling, because the rounds batter the Centurion, and take out a primary power supply, sending the large metal beast into a sparking heap on the forest floor.

That sound of construction, the light tinktinking or thudding? Gone with the wind, baby.

Under his breath, a soft curse is uttered by Achilles at the sound of gunshots. Always with the shooting, never with the sneaking. Shaking his head he begins to move a bit more quickly in the direction the Centurion had been heading, in the direction that noise had been coming from before vanishing.

Anthem slowly approaches the downed Cylon, rifle pointed at its 'corpse.'

The rifle's lowered, as the Centurion goes down. Dmitri doesn't quite relax, however, moving slowly back through the woods along the freshly-plowed path that it was following, heading towards the new silence of whatever lay in the distance.

Banks pauses a little as he sees that shot. "Okay…" he mutters, glancing to the Cylon, then moving a bit further forward, frowning a little bit. Still staying a bit to the side, though.

Angel curses quietly then makes her way further under cover. There's a bird whistle twice, then three times. But then she spots Anthem, and the look on her face is priceless. She breaks her cover a bit to get closer to him. "Get back," she calls to the Gunny. Yep, she's just put herself in harm's way to save Anthem. What's trouble going to go for? The one making the most noise, and that happens to be Angel.

Alyssa's eyes open wide as the sound of the gunshots rip through the forest. The odd construction noises she had been tracking suddenly gone, she pulls her sidearm and does her best to follow the noise. While shooting might not have been the sound she'd wanted to hear, it was the first sign of human life she'd heard in days, and slowly she worked her way through the trees.

The forest is largely silent, the sounds of combat rip through the wooded area, and there's quiet. But then, faintly, the sound of movement may be heard. Fast approaching is the whirrr clunk whirrr clunk of more than one set of feet, moving along in the forest at a pretty good clip, from where this path, and that first Centurion seemed to be headed. There's about thirty seconds before new arrivals make it onto the scene.

Anthem begins to quickly backpedal towards the forest at Angel's warning, scanning the surroundings as he does so. "More?" he asks, trying to pitch his voice so that it doesn't carry far.

Ah hell. At the whirr-clunk of feet, Dmitri drops down low, getting under cover.

From the direction of the Lodge, a sound of footfalls can just barely be heard before Homer emerges tenatively from behind a tree and onto the path, a rifle in hand. He peers towards the direction where the gunfire filled the air (however briefly).

Banks hears those sounds, and ducks down a bit further, keeping his rifle ready for those new arrivals, while staying as much under cover as he can. "And here I thought I was getting too old for this…" he mutters, under his breath.

Achilles doesn't really hear the sounds as he is rather focused on making his approach in the direction towards the noise that he had heard previously. Slink slink sneak sneak.

"At least 2," Angel tells Anthem. "Do you want to get out of here or stay to fight?" Oh, no. She's clearly not happy with the Gunny at the moment. Not in the least. Or, perhaps, it's the situation that has her looking like she wants to shoot something. "You've got five seconds to make a decision." Glancing over her shoulder, she calls quietly, "Everyone fall back to cover." As if she had to tell them.

Anthem shakes his head. "They're too fast to run. We at last have numbers," he replies as he quickly moves to find cover. There's a slight shrug. "Anyway we play it, they're kind of in our neighborhood." He goes on the lookout for the approaching Cylons.

Up the path come the distinctive footfalls of large homicidal robots. Two Centurions arrive on the scene, obviously alerted to the presence of resistance due to the fallen robotic comrade… And the righteously less than subtle gunplay. The metal heads come to a stop about fifteen free from the hulking remains of their fellow, chromed bodies gleaming in the later afternoon sunlight that filters through the canopy. Their weapons are out, guns spinning idly as their red eye sensors search the area for targets.

Hearing the falls of new Centurion feet, Achilles' brow furrows further. His eyes shift towards where the others were last having incidents and with a growl, he dips into the woods again and moves further back along the woodline towards the construction zone.

Dmitri's hands bring his rifle up as he hunkers down in the greenery, one eye closing as he sights on one of the other centurions approaching through the forest. Of course, the louder and heavier-armed sorts might take them down first, but— just in case.

Anthem nervously thumbs the safety as the Centurions come into view. He takes a breath or two, then holds it, steadying his aim. He then squeezes the trigger, sending a hail of bullets towards the first Centurion for a second or so before pointing his barrel at the second.

Banks moves into position now that the Centurions arrive, getting the rifle aimed at one of the Centurions right before he squeezes the trigger.

Angel is left without cover thanks to her going to Anthem to try to get him out of the way of the oncoming charge. So she does the only thing she can for the moment and opens fire.

The Centurions continue to scan for targets, guns up and ready to aim at the slightest hint of movement from the trees.

More gunfire. Helpful for navigation purposes. Homer's head turns in the direction of the combat and he gets off the path again, moving at a loping run towards the sound of the gunfire. Self-preservation? What's that?

Hearing at least two automatic weapns opening up, Alyssa hurries her pace, trying to stay behind trees as best as she can. Someone was getting hurt, and she really hoped it wasn't the good guys.

Angel doesn't stop shooting. There's an Anthem to protect and there are other resistance members to protect. She crouches a bit, using the first downed Centurion to cover her shins, at least, and continues to figure on whatever's attacking.

"Angel, drop!" Anthem bellows. One Cylon down, one to go. Anthem goes full bore, loosing the last of his ammunition at the metal monstrosity. At the very least, it ought to distract from Angel.

As one goes down, Dmitri turns his rifle to the other—taking careful aim for the head, though it seems that his own shots won't be needed.

Banks keeps firing at the one he's been shooting at. Frowning a bit now.

One of the centurions drops under the burst fire from the various combatants, while the other lights up with ricochets and pings of bullets sailing through its armor and bouncing off. Several of the shots go wide, ripping through the trees and sailing on for meters before they slam into bark, sending bits showering down around the trees.

Homer likes to move it move it. However, the fight is only just coming into view. Skidding behind a tree amongst the others, he calls, "Heard someone ring the doorbell, came to see who it was!" No firing just yet, but he does peer cautiously from behind his TreeCover.

Toasters. Frak. Alyssa stared down her sights into the shiny metal carapace. Still, where cylons were present, it was always easy to know what side SHE was on. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed the trigger.

Angelica continues to shoot. Right now, it's about protecting the others, so she keeps pulling the trigger. She looks fierce. Like a miniature yorkshire terrier puppy growling at a full grown St. Bernard.

Achilles continues his lurking around down the path the Centurions just came from, inquisitive chap ain't he.

Debris rains down on the Resistance folk as rounds spatter into the trees, whizzing through the air like somebody's trying to cut the lawn the militia crazy way. So the dude with the dog should feel right at home. Hunks of bark assail out heroes like stinky sappy shrapnel, and mother nature is about to get one serious bug up her ass. Y'all are just lucky this isn't LotR.

The lone remaining Centurion takes all kinda of battering, bullets pelting through and off of his armor, like some kind of light show from miniature samurai sparking their katanas off his various plates of chromed armor. Except more bullet like.

Banks fires off once more at the Cylon, ducking down after the shots are fired.

"I wonder if they rust," Homer comments, eyes on the Centurion. He pops back behind his tree and then out the other side, rifle up and bullets flying.

Dmitri swears under his breath as this one doesn't go down so swiftly; brow furrowing, he brings the rifle up, the bolt-action snapping down as he cracks off a shot through the brush.

"Bring it DOWN!" Anthem says superfluously as he sends another hail of bullets at the Centurion. He winces slightly as chips of wood hit him in the face, a few drawing a hint of blood. It doesn't stop him from doing his utmost to fire accurately. Although, he does find time to grimace at Angel for remaining standing.

Gunshots, so uncivilized. Achilles continues moving away from them and following the path made by the Centurions on their way up, intending to head in the direction they came from.

Dmitri lowers the rifle, chambering the next round before going back to prowling through the woods—heading down the path, keeping out of the way and in the trees.

Anthem slowly moves out of cover, reloading his rifle. "Anyone hurt?" he asks loudly.

Angel rises from her crouch, looking over the two downed Centurions. "We need to go investigate what they were doing," she tells Anthem simply, quietly. Apparently shooting Centurions doesn't bother her much. Though - she does keep away from them.

Banks shakes his head a little bit as he hears this, "Not hurt," he replies.

Alyssa peered out from around the tree, keeping her pistol drawn and pulling back behind the tree. Whoever these people were, they had just dropped three Cylons in a hurry, and training told her to keep her eyes open, for now. Cylons were the enemy, but that didn't make these people friends, at least not yet.

The pile of cylons spark now and then, but their chromed bodies remain still, like oversized, wicked looking children's toys left scattered in the forest.

"I think I broke a nail," Homer announces dryly before emerging from his cover and moves closer to Angel and Anthem. "I don't remember seeing these guy's names on the invite list…" he starts, eyeing the CenturiCorpses not too far off. "Probably shouldn't stick around. Who knows how wired in these guys are to the flying ones."

Anthem grins lopsidedly. "Sounds like a clean bill of health," he says. "Good." Angel gets a nod. He agrees, and moves to her side. In the meantime, he spots Alyssa. "We get in a fight with Cylons, and instead of anyone gettin' killed, we spontaneously generate a new body," he drawls. "I'd put the gun away, miss. Fire it, and Achilles is liable to eat you."

Alyssa sighed as she looked down at her coat, which made hiding in the woods not the simplest proposition. Stepping clear of the trees, she slid the pistol into her holster and put the safety back on. "I heard the gunshots, and figured maybe someone could use some help… wasn't expecting an army." Glancing down at the Cylon remains, she walks closer to the group. "This is the first time I've seen shots traded with these things where human shooters were left breathing."

Angel just stares at Anthem for a long moment. Oh, no, she's not happy. "I'm pushing ahead." And with that, she moves off into the brush again, away from the Centurions, heading for the construction site. She breaks out into the clearing a few moments later, moving slowly and cautiously.

The path in the woods, which is well beaten down and traveled, leads to a freshly made clearing. It's just far enough from the lodge that only someone traveling the outer perimeter would have heard the sawing and noise. It's roughly thirty feet across, taking advantage of a small pocket of clear ground in the forested area. It's been cleared, and it looks like the Centurions were building something. Steel girders have been erected some thirty feet into the air, with a rudimentary scaffold around it. Steel cables have been staked to the ground, supporting it further. The structure has just barely begun to poke out of the trees, and completion seems imminent. The structure is, for the moment, unfinished. A nearby pile of components reveals steel and bolts, as well as various wiring and bits that have yet to be put in place.

The ghille-shrouded figure of Dmitri is standing in that clearing, rifle shouldered as he looks up at the structure with a frown upon his lips; stepping over to overturn the pile of extra components with the toe of his boot, muttering, "Some sort've broadcast tower… weird."

Anthem shrugs, then follows after Angel. Once he reaches the clearing he frowns. "Blow it up after taking what's useful? Or let it stand?"

Homer moves along with the others, sidling up next to Alyssa. "Don't worry. They /are/ usually this way with people they don't know. Of course, they used to just point guns in their faces, so, I think they've grown, as a group." Eyeing the tower from top to bottom and then back again, he notes, "Why are they building a giant metal penis in the woods?"

"Every action you take to draw attention brings them closer to us." Achilles voice finally is heard as he emerges from the woods near Anthem and Angel. "This shoot first, deal with the consequences later is going to be an issue, you are leaving a trail of metal right to us. And so the solution is to blow up their structure as well. Why? So more come to rebuild it and find out why it was destroyed? With the trail of metal made anyone could follow it to the location."

Angel glances over at Anthem then up at the tower. "Achilles is right," she says simply. Apparently she's learning social skills from the former prisoner. "Leave the tower here so that we can monitor and see what they're doing. We will check the Lodge for necessary explosives. If it looks as though they will be building some manner of base here, we will take action. This looks to be a simple communications tower. Let them communicate. We will need to move the metal scraps and hide them. Leave no traces of what went on."

"Mmnm." A shrug of one leafy shoulder, and then Dmitri turns to head back towards the gathered resistance members— not a comment or word for them as he pushes on past, heading back down the beaten trail the way they came.

Listening to everyone speak, Alyssa gave Homer a nod before looking up at the structure. "We're assuming they don't already know about the firefight. We could possibly arrange an accident, arrange for the tower to fall on what's left of them. Slow down whatever they are doing, and maybe throw them off the trail." Glancing around, she shrugs uncomfortably. "Sorry, I am new here. I shouldn't have done that."

Homer exaggerates a shiver as Angel finishes talking and mock-adjusts his collar, "A teenager talking like a soldier. Now that's damned scary." Turning his back on the group, he takes a few steps back towards the Lodge. "Good luck with the penis tower, guys. I'll go let everyone at the Lodge know nobody croaked this go-round."

"A solider talking like a coward. Nothing unusual there." Achilles states towards Homer rather calmly as the bald man turns towards Alyssa, hearing the new voice. With fast steps he moves towards her, sniffing the air and narrowing his eyes until he stands just a few steps away. "You do not smell familiar… you are new." Then he licks his lips and shoots a look towards the others. "How accepting you all are of a female without any expectations. A male you question, a female you look upon her for breeding and just accept." The scruffy man looks back again then to Alyssa. "They will find no interest in you. Your ovaries do not smell ripe enough." Talk of the tower seems to have faded from the man's mind.

Anthem looks between Angel and Achilles. "The pair of you happy to take care of what needs doing here? We might need to take the truck out and do a little legerdemain. " He shakes his head. "Be nice, Achilles," he says before looking towards Alyssa. "Lab coat?"

Angel raises a brow slightly at Anthem, quirking a brow. "It will go more quickly if we have more than two hands," she tells him, then turns to look at Alyssa for the first time. "Achilles," she says, voice low and quiet, tone gentling for a moment. Her eyes never leave the woman, though. "Please forgive our rudeness," she tells Alyssa. "But who the hell are you and what are you doing here." Uhoh, suspicious much? Hands remain on her rifle, though it's not turned on the woman.

Much as the group had been ignoring her before, they were focused on her now. Carefully keeping her hand off of her sidearm, it takes a bit of doing to not backpedal from the advance of the strange man. Taking a deep breath, she opens her mouth to answer. "Doctor's coat, actually. Lt. Dr. Alyssa Odessyeon, Colonial Fleet Medical."

Homer pauses midstep as Achille opens his mouth. A glance is skewed over his shoulder at the man, but he keeps his mouth shut. "Don't mind the paranoids and the psychopaths, Doctor. We're all family here." Pause. "Anyone else see something wrong with jumping this lady's shit? Especially given the confirmation of the Cylons having returned?"

Anthem nods to Angel. "Just tell me what you think needs doing and I'll help," he says simply before looking at Alyssa. "A doctor? Huh. Lucky day, today." He points at his chest. "Anthem Hollas, Gunnery Sergeant, Marines." He points at Ach. "Achilles. Resident philospher." Angel. "Angelica. Den mother." Homer. "Homer. Smartass." The Ghillie suited man. "Dmitri. Local."

Angel simply watches Alyssa for a long moment. "There's a group of survivors down in Osprey," she says quietly, looking pointedly at Anthem and Homer, raising a brow slightly. "We need to get those bodies hidden and get away from here. They may have sounded an alarm. Homer, you can either be part of the solution or part of the problem. If you have to get back to being a daddy to Tessa and the baby, I'm sure we'll all understand." Yeah, someone's got a stick up her ass. She heads back toward the bodies, leaving the rest of them where they are. She made her opinion on Alyssa known.

Achilles moves a bit closer to Alyssa, sniffing over her in a very evident way. "You smell familiar now… far too familiar. Colonial. Marine. No Military exists anymore… we exist." Then, abruptly, he barks at her.

Dmitri is, of course… long gone.

"Actually, I can be anything I want to be… or at least that's what my counselor in high school told me," Homer replies, giving Angelica a highly exaggerated salute. "I'm going back to the Lodge. Have fun playing soldier queen." He turns on his heel, then and heads off through the forest.

Alyssa's eyes take on a puzzled look as she steps forward, putting a hand to Achilles' forehead… her hand finding his wrist. No fever… and no sign of radiation dementia. Frakking odd. Letting go, she steps back again. Osprey. I didn't see… well, I suppose I wouldn't. I wouldn't have found you if you hadn't started shooting. Sighing, she turns back to Anthem. I can help. I have some med supplies in my pack, and I know how to use them.

Alyssa's eyes take on a puzzled look as she steps forward, putting a hand to Achilles' forehead… her hand finding his wrist. "No fever… and no sign of radiation dementia. Frakking odd." Letting go, she steps back again. "Osprey. I didn't see… well, I suppose I wouldn't. I wouldn't have found you if you hadn't started shooting." Sighing, she turns back to Anthem. "I can help. I have some med supplies in my pack, and I know how to use them."

Anthem grunts, looking at Angel. "Get it out of your system now." He grins as she checks Achilles. "Careful. He might bite."

Achilles merely tilts his head when Alyssa touches his wrist and forehead then steps forward. "Do you wnat to know how I check to see if people are healthy?" His voice drops several levels. "I'd love to demonstrate for you. What do you think Angel? Should I show the doctor here how I check people for disease on the brat over there?" In his hand, there is a glint of metal, sliding casually through it. No, not a knife, far cruder and far more prison shank style.

Angel glances over her shoulder at Alyssa, pausing for a moment. "We have medical supplies," she says flatly. "And we know how to use them. You'll all pardon me for being leery of a woman who conveniently shows up to help when we take down three Centurions without a whole lot of trouble." Her eyes cut to Anthem. "No further than the resort." Homer is left to his own devices as she turns to Achilles. "I need your help," she tells him quietly. "Gunny will see her settled at Gladwell and make sure she's safe." And then the littlest bitch is on her way back to the bodies. "Quickly," she says over her shoulder.

Homer snorts derisively and is gone, disappearing into the forest.

"Happy little family," Alyssa mutters with a glance to the shank. Watching as the girl walks away, she shrugs uneasily. This wasn't what it had looked like in her head. In her head, she found some survivors, helped them with their hurts, and… well, that was it, really. She'd never really looked any farther than that. "I just want to help. I've been…" No. This was not the time to be scared. She looked Achilles in the eye. "If you cut someone with that, I'll have to stitch them up. I hate using a needle and thread on people I don't know very well yet, so can it wait?"

Achilles stares back in silence for long moments then he smiles and laughs softly. The shank gets dipped into his mouth as he sucks on the end of it and lifts his eyebrows. "Sounds spectacular." Turning, he pulls the shank free and begins to whistle a little diddy while going to help Angel.

Anthem reaches into a pocket and pulls some venison jerky, wrapped in a paper towel, out. He tosses it to Alyssa. "Why don't you come with me and we'll get you settled," he says mildly. "Achilles is an acquired taste. I wouldn't touch him, though, without permission." He motions towards the resort. "It's really not so bad…you just caught us at a bad moment."

Alyssa nods, catching the jerky. "Old habits, I'm sorry. I just can't remember the last goot moment…" With a nod, she starts to follow him. "So… what's your story?"

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