The ork's exaggerated gesticulations actually draw put a chuckle, some critical mass of absurdity bubbling to the surface. Mick's words of wisdom, on the other hand, are hardly the reassurance she was hoping for. Her lips tighten, unsatisfied with the answer, as its implication sinks down to the pit of her stomach. What kind of cosmic injustice does this world operate on, for her to be so lucky as to always feel the terror and disgust from such dirty work, but to be so neurally burnt out as to witness a pristine night sky, the beauty of untouched wilderness at the end of a lightless cave, and feel nothing?
Axel's questions join her own, slipping like unheard prayers into the empty sky. She seems to actually mull this one over, her head swaying back and forth as though physically heavy with the weight of these matters. "DUNNO. ARE WE STILL JUST SURVIVING?" Her head tips slowly, from one side to the other, silently weighing each unpalatable option. "MAYBE WE HAVE TO MAKE OUR OWN MEANING. MAYBE WE'RE SAVING THE FRAGGING WORLD."
Here, her head lifts, just slightly, as though lifted by revelation, or determination, a familiar crease returning to her brow. "I CAN SAY MAYBE ONE THING FOR CERTAIN..." She glances back around, issuing the slightest of acknowledgement to each of the two compatriots at her side.
"...I WAS NOT JOKING ABOUT HURLING. YOU MAY WANT TO STEP BACK."
Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The stolen gunboat carves through the Pacific, leaving a wake of frothing whitecaps. Alcatraz island, partially shrouded in smoke, is now little more than a disappearing miniature on the horizon. Zal's team are licking their wounds, many slumped exhausted on the surface of the deck.
Achak tears open a ration that was given to him by Lafayette. He makes a face but tucks into the mysterious semi-solid mass within. As he eats, he quietly observes the runners. During a break in the conversation, he pipes up. "I had to abandon my mission when I was captured. But now..." He trails off, his gaze clearly indicating the team. "If you are looking for more work-- well, we can discuss that once we're safe."
Luis emerges from the cabin, a grin plastered to his face. In his arms are several bottles of sake. "Look what I found! It ain't tequilla, but it'll get the job done."
Meanwhile, Mick's stim patch has worn off. The adept feels as though they've been hit by a truck. Unconsciousness is close at hand, but the ork is hardy enough to keep it at bay for a while longer.
Achak tears open a ration that was given to him by Lafayette. He makes a face but tucks into the mysterious semi-solid mass within. As he eats, he quietly observes the runners. During a break in the conversation, he pipes up. "I had to abandon my mission when I was captured. But now..." He trails off, his gaze clearly indicating the team. "If you are looking for more work-- well, we can discuss that once we're safe."
Luis emerges from the cabin, a grin plastered to his face. In his arms are several bottles of sake. "Look what I found! It ain't tequilla, but it'll get the job done."
Meanwhile, Mick's stim patch has worn off. The adept feels as though they've been hit by a truck. Unconsciousness is close at hand, but the ork is hardy enough to keep it at bay for a while longer.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
There may have been more to say, but Mick's head explodes in pain, as if their brain grew three sizes that day. The ork steps back from the decker, thudding their back against a large reinforced window and slumping against the exterior of the bridge. Sitting there, Mick is barely aware of the cold seawater soaking into the seat of their pants from the deck. When they speak, their words come out in the winding-down mumbles of a blisshead on the nod. Mick notices, but doesn't mind it so much. "Think I might have to sleep this one off, shitheads. Roll me over if you have to so I don't swallow my tongue, yeah? Fucking hate when that happens..." The lights are going dim, but a wry smile of self-satisfaction stretches across the adept's chapped lips as a chuckle rises soundlessly and rolls through their shoulders, their shaved head bouncing amiably. It's any one's guess whether they were joking.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The sound of the motor churning the water becomes distant white noise, fading from sensation like the island being left behind. His eyes settle on the western horizon. Several subconscious moments later he finds himself leaning heavily on the rail of the vessel, as it pitches and rolls across the water.
Eventually he turns, slowly scanning the surviving crew, observing the seemingly idle chatter and small talk, soundless to his ears. A high pitched ringing begins to curl through his cochlea, growing in intensity until he’s forced to cup his ears.
As the ringing subsides, he returns his gaze to the occupants of the craft, seeing smiles and even laughter; his vision begins to distort and become fuzzy. He sits down, leaning his back against the guardrail. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
Steady breathing escapes him, it’s a struggle to draw in enough air. Stomach stirring and twisting, he can’t suppress an involuntary gag.
Shutting his eyes was a bad idea.
He quickly turns to face the water and heaves, providing a meager snack for some lucky fish.
A few moments later a heavy foot lands next to him. Suddenly he feels weightless as the powerful troll lifts Yung to his feet, propping him up with the help of the railing. A hefty hand slaps him on the back, sending the lingering bits of vomit off to sea.
"Don’t worry kid, you’ll get used to it." The troll promises with a wink before gazing out across the water. To the adept, the troll’s eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotion: fear, determination, joy, helplessness, and hopefulness, and more. All beneath the stoic brineful expression plastered with a cockeyed half-grin.
He’s missing a pipe. Somehow, despite his state of mire, Yung finds a moment of humor. He keeps it to himself, secret validation that he is still…alive.
He clears his throat. "Hem hem. Got a ‘paca?"
The troll nods, still transfixed on the horizon. He pats his breast pocket, assuring himself they’re still there, before unclasping the button and producing a pack of Alpacas. With a flick of the wrist he taps the pouch and the butt of a cig pokes out. Yung grabs it, delicately transferring it to his mouth with tremorous hands. The troll repeats the process again, delicately procuring a cigarette of his own.
He stows the pack and produces a lighter, raising it to his lips and lighting the cigarette in practiced motion. As he takes his first drag he turns slightly to Yung, placing the lighter in front of his face and flicking the flint once again.
Startled, Yung flinches, withdrawing his head away from the flame, transforming from a slouch to a more upright posture. He turns to face the troll. "I don’t smoke."
Yung returns to staring off at nothing in particular with the Alpaca dangling from his lip. Thornye follows suit, taking a few measured drags off the cig before tossing it into the water.
Eventually he turns, slowly scanning the surviving crew, observing the seemingly idle chatter and small talk, soundless to his ears. A high pitched ringing begins to curl through his cochlea, growing in intensity until he’s forced to cup his ears.
As the ringing subsides, he returns his gaze to the occupants of the craft, seeing smiles and even laughter; his vision begins to distort and become fuzzy. He sits down, leaning his back against the guardrail. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
Steady breathing escapes him, it’s a struggle to draw in enough air. Stomach stirring and twisting, he can’t suppress an involuntary gag.
Shutting his eyes was a bad idea.
He quickly turns to face the water and heaves, providing a meager snack for some lucky fish.
A few moments later a heavy foot lands next to him. Suddenly he feels weightless as the powerful troll lifts Yung to his feet, propping him up with the help of the railing. A hefty hand slaps him on the back, sending the lingering bits of vomit off to sea.
"Don’t worry kid, you’ll get used to it." The troll promises with a wink before gazing out across the water. To the adept, the troll’s eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotion: fear, determination, joy, helplessness, and hopefulness, and more. All beneath the stoic brineful expression plastered with a cockeyed half-grin.
He’s missing a pipe. Somehow, despite his state of mire, Yung finds a moment of humor. He keeps it to himself, secret validation that he is still…alive.
He clears his throat. "Hem hem. Got a ‘paca?"
The troll nods, still transfixed on the horizon. He pats his breast pocket, assuring himself they’re still there, before unclasping the button and producing a pack of Alpacas. With a flick of the wrist he taps the pouch and the butt of a cig pokes out. Yung grabs it, delicately transferring it to his mouth with tremorous hands. The troll repeats the process again, delicately procuring a cigarette of his own.
He stows the pack and produces a lighter, raising it to his lips and lighting the cigarette in practiced motion. As he takes his first drag he turns slightly to Yung, placing the lighter in front of his face and flicking the flint once again.
Startled, Yung flinches, withdrawing his head away from the flame, transforming from a slouch to a more upright posture. He turns to face the troll. "I don’t smoke."
Yung returns to staring off at nothing in particular with the Alpaca dangling from his lip. Thornye follows suit, taking a few measured drags off the cig before tossing it into the water.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The trip back to Tex's compound continues without incident. It's a very tired collection of comrades that make their way through the vineyards and eventually to the familiar vista of Bluedog Ranch. Anne-Marie is out front waiting, looking very relieved that Zal's crew made it back in one piece.
Not four hours after the runners return to the compound, the Golden Army launches the single largest offensive to date against Saito's regime. Unfortunately for the runners, the intensity of the fighting means that crossing the border is an impossibility. Fortunately for the runners, Tex is more than happy to host them. He even offers his guest house and grounds to use at their disposal, as well as regulated access to his considerable connections and resources, with Anne-Marie acting as a go-between.
A message from Preacher is relayed through Tex: The fixer is grateful and pleased. He bids the team relax and recuperate, that he will have work for them so that they can continue to earn in California. Achak in particular seems eager to complete his original mission.
The ranch s bathed in the nuclear glow of twilight as the sun sets. The air is thick with the sound of crickets, the breeze through hedgerows, and the laughter of Zal's team. The danger is passed, but who knows what the future holds? For now, the ample bedding and luxurious furnishings of Tex's guesthouse beckon.
Not four hours after the runners return to the compound, the Golden Army launches the single largest offensive to date against Saito's regime. Unfortunately for the runners, the intensity of the fighting means that crossing the border is an impossibility. Fortunately for the runners, Tex is more than happy to host them. He even offers his guest house and grounds to use at their disposal, as well as regulated access to his considerable connections and resources, with Anne-Marie acting as a go-between.
A message from Preacher is relayed through Tex: The fixer is grateful and pleased. He bids the team relax and recuperate, that he will have work for them so that they can continue to earn in California. Achak in particular seems eager to complete his original mission.
The ranch s bathed in the nuclear glow of twilight as the sun sets. The air is thick with the sound of crickets, the breeze through hedgerows, and the laughter of Zal's team. The danger is passed, but who knows what the future holds? For now, the ample bedding and luxurious furnishings of Tex's guesthouse beckon.