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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 9, 2010 8:50:00 GMT -5
"Losing a little..." the pale girl looked over to the Sargeant, mumbling under her breath, "Like Pat," but she couldn't relate. He didn't even look like he had lost his family, "S'mpossible," just when she thought she had people figured out.
"Huh?" nearly oblivious to the fact the guy had introduced himself, "Oh, yeah. Ayame, um... just call me Aya," scratching the back of her head, "Nice to meetcha Jacob. My friend and I sure could do with a frick amount of sanity right now. Spit in the air and it'll land on something psychotic," Aya looked back over to the officers trailer just in time to see Patrick exit, a wide smile on his face like he had just won bingo.
"I take it we'll be heading back to the Hotel early?" she asked, happy that he seemed happy, "We get plenty of volunteers to help out?"
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Post by NotAvailable on Oct 9, 2010 19:01:23 GMT -5
Jake couldn't help but overhear the word, "Volunteers" when the girl had spoken to one of the men whom apparently knew her. Probably some kid into the whole charity thing. Of course there were also those who claimed to be into it just to selfishly take what they could get and run off with it. He raked a hand through his messy, black, hair and interrupted them before the other man could ask.
" Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but 'Volunteers' for what exactly? No offense, but last time anyone came around asking for volunteers, they almost cleaned out the joint of rations and ammunition," he explained, very much concerned with the scenario.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 9, 2010 20:21:23 GMT -5
"Hmm? Oh I probably worded that a little wrong. We're happy to pay," Aya smiled trying to set things straight; some elaboration would be healthy, "At the moment we're trying to get a hotel up in the Arklay mountains back into running order. It's pretty much in mint condition - asides from a few scratches and holes," looking to the ground and shaking her head at the fixes they had to make, "We think it'd make the perfect survivor haven, for travelers or anyone who wants to settle down. There's well over a hundred rooms from what I can tell of the size of the place, but I think some planned expansion would be good for the future,"
"So we're looking for some help. Namely a bunch of truck drivers to haul tech up the mountain for us, some infection containment equipment and communication hardware, plus renovation goods and anyone who's good with a hammer and nail," she bit her lip, "There's probably more but I had made a list and now I can't entirely remember the whole thing off the top of my head," holding her hands out to signal the end of her explanation and slapping them on her hips, "But that's about the gist of it. We could work in cahoots with this outpost at the same time, and any other bases or checkpoints for that matter,"
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Post by Shotgun Yell on Oct 10, 2010 14:22:32 GMT -5
The smile faded from Patrick's face as he reminded himself what exactly he had agreed to, and what it might entail. He was working to formulate a reply to tell the young girl about their predicament, when a nearby soldier interrupted; Pat hadn't even noticed the two were conversing. As Aya laid out the majority of their plan in plain English, he noticed the olive drab shirt she was wearing and quirked at the way it was both too long, and too tight. He shot a glance back to the men at the checkpoint who didn't seem to notice Aya anymore and deduced that she had residue on her shirt. Oh well, there were literally hundreds back at the hotel and thousands in the city.
"Yeah, she just means volunteers in the way that they're willing to work for us. But back to business, we're not quite out without a scratch. Mike's willing to provide us with most of the equipment we need, the names of people who are willing to work for us, but there's a catch. There's two squads that were sent into Raccoon with the express purpose of evacuating civilians. It was just a hit and go type operation, and their exfil point was set to be the stadium, but after the first chopper landed they were swarmed and now they can't get the civilians out. Mike's giving us free access to the armory on base, including the explosives they have, if we go out there and clear out the stadium to evacuate the civilians."
"It's gonna be a huge mission, but I figure we can take it. Besides, it's worth it for all the expensive military grade electronics he's offering. But, what do you think?"
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 13, 2010 7:06:48 GMT -5
"Wait. A stadium?" Aya wasn't too sure whether she had heard Patrick correctly, "That's potentially - thousands - of zombies. You firebomb that kind of statistic fo fricks sake," she violently ran her hand through her hair, "Neither of us could carry enough ammo for it... did Mike say whether there were any other marines out there?" she was thinking on her feet, trying to think of other additions that might help them eliminate thousands of zombies, "I'm guessing if he wants us to clear the place out he also wants the stadium locked down for further use,"
"Okay," and like a spinning comical sign she went from complaining to actually building a scope strategy, "We'll need to bring in an M249 with enough feed to cutdown a horde. Load up with nothing but fragmentation to take out big groups. If I could get some extra 7.62 rounds I could do a bunch of sharpshooting, down as many as how much ammo I'll have. The rest we'd need to procure on sight, maybe something..." a massive realization hitting here, "The chopper!" she pointed accusingly at Patrick, "You said it was swarmed, right?" not waiting for him to reply, "If we can cut away a chunk of infected surrounding it, and make a suitable path I can boot it up and fire off the M230 chaingun attachments. Mow anything in the central stadium to mulch," she smiled.
Game, set, match, "Hey Jacob. Reckon you could show us to the armory?" Aya was all down in this. The sooner they got the operation started the helluva more energetic she would feel.
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Post by Shotgun Yell on Oct 20, 2010 23:23:03 GMT -5
"Not sure if it matters much, but I qualified with exemplary marks on the M249, and as for the minigun, I'm sure if we can get the crew to the chopper, they can take it from there. We can probably lug a load of frags and C4 satchels there as well, not to say we'd have to use them all, as I'm sure they wont be requesting the equipment back immediately after," There was a twinkle in Patrick's eyes as he brought up the last bit, reminiscing warmly to his time in the army when small arms disappeared on a fairly regular basis, always to be replaced by the massive hordes of weapons that remained following the death of thousands of soldiers. No use in them being left in the depots to rust.
"Once we've got it all cleared, the walkers will most likely disperse, and after that I'd imagine Mike will want to send down some engineers to raise fortifications, IE constantino wire fencing, dragons teeth, gun emplacements, the whole nine yards. So, we wont quite need to hold it down, just rush inside, evac the civvies along with the stranded Marines, and exfil out. It'll probably take a few runs to get everyone out though," They'd started towards the armory, and Patrick had covered most of the walk with talk about the operation at hand. By the time he'd finished they stood before the half dozen C containers, all tightly secured and bound by massive locks. Above them hung camo netting, and to the front of the long row were two collapsible wooden tables, situated just inside a small mod tent.
Leading the way, Patrick gave his information to the quartermaster, whom after getting in radio contact with 4-1 actual (Mike), was cleared to allow Pat unlimited access to the weapon lockers. One little signature was all it took, and he was given a checklist of all the different weapons and munitions at the group's disposal. "Okay, grab anything, I'll mark it off, we hand in the list, and then head out. Cool?"
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 24, 2010 9:54:27 GMT -5
Beaming mischievously, "All the more for us," Aya mouthed to herself, "I like the way you think," she said as they continued in the armory's direction. "It sounds sound," admitting after Pat finished his run down, "But it's also sounding too easy. Look, did Mike say anything about mutants? We need to consider this might be a little more complicated than cleaning house. If we don't flag the stadium clear well enough then he could be sending engineers to their slaughter," she stopped in her tracks, holding Pat briefly by the arm, "I'm all for evacuating the civilians... but Mike needs to know that the stadium could be too fargone to withold," she was tapping into her business side partially, walking again once the seriousness passed, "I'm just saying there's a risk making a deal on an improbable variable,"The girl scruffed her hair while waiting for Pat to clear them with the QM, patting it down and running her fingers to straighten it out. She held a lock up to look at the beginning of the split ends and uneveness, "'Bout that time," she sighed. Cutting her own her was always a haunting thought. "Okay, grab anything, I'll mark it off, we hand in the list, and then head out. Cool?" Aya looked first to the munitions, then to Patrick, "Anything?" almost feeling criminal to do so; every time she had been in a QM tent in the past held a hefty transaction; having free rein? Eyes widening, "Don't mean to insult you, girl," she brushed her fingers against the barrel of her Springfield; then attacked. Priority wise Aya had coastered over to the nearest automatic firearm she could find, leaving the M249 to Patrick. As much as she wanted to utilize the machine gun herself there was no hiding the fact she lacked strength for it; the casual marine said himself he marked high in training, "Maybe next time," Aya reassured the enthusiast in her as she picked up her first choice. Why the P90? Aya is left handed. One reason she found the AK47 as annoying as f*ck with casings and charging handle clicking in her collective FoV. She grabbed both tabs of her harness and pulled tight, her knapsack sitting high on her back instead of down low, and clipped the P90 over her left breast, 'Two mags,' noting to herself and grabbing suitable pouches for them. Patrick had brought this on himself, Aya was going to arm to the teeth for this operation. Possible 1000+ carriers and god knew what else in that stadium, only the two of them to bark it all off, the girl planned to cover herself in conventional weaponry. - Heavy SCAR over her right shoulder, ammo for that on her right hip. - SIG 516 over her left shoulder, ammo for that over her stomach. - TDI Kriss down her chest with ammunition across her lower back. - Springfield XD at her left hip, ammo directly above it over her ribs. - S&W Sigma 40 under her right arm loaded with .40, ammo for that rather haphazardly lined down Aya's back. A little adjustment to the pouches for optimal grabbability rounded things off nicely though. - Her combat knives needed a little repositioning over her belt buckle. - And finally whatever space leftover was taken up by satchels and remaining pouches filled with fragmentation. "You get all of that?" Aya asked while practically bending backwards to recheck everything, "I'm all good to go... I hope we can take something other than the truck. Can't really see it as the best transport for this," she half nervously grinned, "You can drive this time, though."
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Post by Shotgun Yell on Oct 24, 2010 23:51:45 GMT -5
"Well, he never actually mentioned anything about the engineers, I'm just playing this by ear. I assume the marines will fill us in on anything we need to know further once we get..." He hefted up a brand new M249 and swapped it for his M4, allowing the heavy rifle to hang unhinged across his chest. The rifle was strapped across the back of his chest, and he hefted up three large box magazines, already pre-loaded just incase. Next on the list came an MP7, which he lashed across his chest, letting it hang at his waist below his right arm and making sure the sling was out of the way. Mags went into one of the two drop pouches on his vest. Four M67 grenades fit snug in his grenade pouch, and a Sig Sauer P250 was fitted to a newly acquired pistol holster which he fitted to the front of his vest.
Finally, two Beretta 93R's were fit snug on the inside chest of his vest, where they were carefully held in place by the tension of the vest, whilst providing minimal discomfort. With these three new pistols came five magazines for each, and all were fitted very carefully into any remaining empty pouches the soldier had on his vest, as well as a drop pouch he attached to his free thigh.
When everything was set and Patrick felt like it was all he could possibly carry effectively, he got to work on making sure everything flowed well in his current setup. Aya brought up the question of transportation, and although he thought they were cleared to grab a humvee, Patrick didn't see any harm in asking before going to the vehicle depot.
"4-1 Actual this is Grinder. Interrogative, are my team and myself cleared for access to the vehicle depot? Over," He spoke into the radio that sat snug on his shoulder. The channels were already worked out when Patrick had first arrived in Raccoon, so all he had to do to speak with Mike was flip the channel to two, and send the message.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Oct 27, 2010 8:31:51 GMT -5
"This is 4-1 Actual. You're cleared for the depot. Take whatever will be most efficient, I'll have it reprocured once you've both finished the operation. Out." Aya pumped her fist once to instigate she was ready, exiting the armory far deadlier than she had been when she first entered; her equipment clattered, cold metal and plastic waiting to heat up. The two zombie genocide specialists crossed the threshold of the garage, both guards waving them through; one murmured a good luck, for what it was worth. Any amount of respect withstanding was held high for anyone raring to face up against a horde of carriers. In Aya's opinion, it was them proving their worth. Patrick lived to help people, she was ready to play ball with this game. Being hailed a 'rescuer' could possibly help boost reputation with the hotel to boot. The two passed several jeeps, a couple of hummers. Several burly trucks which looked like they could easily plough a field full of infected stood out as well. After a number of suggestions, the pale girl couldn't help but point out an exotic piece of armor in a bleak corner of the yard, "Patrick..." she started, turning back to see the casual marine checking out a humvee, "Don't s'pose you know how to drive that now?" raising an eyebrow. Climbing on top of the Stryker. There were three of them in total. The one furthest to the back had a massive 105mm canon on top of it, the second LAV along toted an M2 Browning. The final was armed with an M240 at one of the hatches; aiming for the more weildy option, Aya climbed aboard and monkeyed in through the gunner hatch. She fit snug with her loadout, being of a smaller composure. "Man," Aya mused while staring down the inside of the armor, "Pity Mikey wouldn't let us take this back into the Arklays. Sure would make a sweet asset,"Rollout. Reinforced gates were geared open to allow the Stryker passage; Aya poked her head out of the hatch taking position next to the machine gun. As quickly as they returned, they headed back out for the killzone of the city. [Heading to Raccoon City Stadium]
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Post by Shotgun Yell on Jan 10, 2011 4:34:35 GMT -5
The Stryker skidded to a halt at the entrance of the apartments to a sea of onlooking survivors, their grim expressions and often bloodied clothing told the tale of a wartorn city, causing images from long ago to surface in a torrent of thought within Patrick’s mind as his body worked on autopilot. Ignition, parking brake, exit. He stepped down the ramp and shut it in silence and followed the marines as they started for the scanners, the one with the severed hand looking pale from blood loss as he held the carefully tied tourniquet and bandage combination. Egg white wrapping coated in deep red.
After a slight misstep by said marine, Patrick slipped up beside him and supported his weight with his shoulder, the soldier’s comrade doing the same as they hurried past the line of civilians practically dragging the wounded man now. Without stopping they shot right through the sensor setting of a mass of alarms, but they weren’t stopped as guards watched on, and deeper in the camp doors flew open to the trailers as other soldiers came out to see what was going on, weapons in hand to defend against assault. When they realized it had been struck by a fellow soldier some shook their heads, most felt pity for the man, and all felt remorse. After all, it could’ve easily been anyone of them, and they knew it deep inside.
At the massive medical trailer, the marine was taken by two uniformed men, their ranks and red cross armbands signified their military occupation, and with a sigh Patrick released the fallen marine. There were no words Patrick could tell his friend, so the two simply shook hands and went their separate ways. “Do you wanna re-arm before we head out? We got quite a bit of work to do here, namely storing our equipment and meeting those interested survivors. Plus, I could use a drink after all we’ve done today,” His throat only now felt ungodly partched.
- Patrick and Aya Entering Apartment Complex -
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jan 10, 2011 5:52:42 GMT -5
Holding her hand over her eyes as she looked up to the sun, "I reckon we've enough time to squeeze a bit of tranquility into our schedule," Aya remarked, "I gotta rig my rifle with a new scope though. You find the bar, I'll catcha in a bit," she parted ways to head for the tent and containers. They probably didn't have the time for her to fit a whole new scope on her Springfield over a drink as well, but she could at least pick one out. Aya got the impression working on weapons in the mess wasn't much allowed.
In fortunate events the quarter master let Aya have the optics for free after helping rescue the survivors and marines. She picked a big meaty scope, narrow enough so that it didn't stand out from the rifle itself; she planned on taking some serious distance in her shots so it had to be something of size. Slipping the cylinder into a net pouch on her camel pack, she felt obligated to apologize not bringing back the weapons she had taken out earlier before she left.
After taking some directions Aya located the makeshift bar in one of the apartment buildings lobbies. Buzzing. All of the marines who she had met were there along with Patrick at one end, pulling up her own stool to join him, "Awesome," garnering the sense of relaxation, "Mikey kept his end of the bargain? We get the stuff?" she started, probably a stupid question unless Patrick hadn't asked him yet, "We should probably get it back up the mountain before dark falls," speaking her mind in monotone as she swiveled around to face the bar, "Wonder who those guys in black were at the stadi-"
"-Get you anything?"
Her thought pattern ended as the bartender approached, "Uhm," looking at what was on offer, still being very new to his game; Aya looked over to some of the marines down the bench pointing at what one of them were drinking. Some sort of dark golden substance. The rest just seemed to tote what looked like p*ss in a glass; the girl decided she was the type for quality over quantity anyways.
Aya eyed the whiskey for a moment before taking a short sip, felt fire pour down her throat, and coughed horsely.
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Post by Shotgun Yell on Jan 10, 2011 22:46:38 GMT -5
When the two parted ways, Patrick made a beeline for the command trailer, right where he knew his good friend, and contact would be located. The door was blocked by one of the many who’d come to investigate the source of the alarm, and when he saw the mercenary looking fellow coming towards him, dipped out of the way. For the most part the trailer hadn’t changed at all, aside from the fact there were many new faces, presumably the shift taking over for the last. Mike was at the far end of it, his back turned to the door, eyes devouring the massive computer generated map that covered the entire wall, blinking lights and symbols displaying in real time the carnage of Raccoon City.
“Jobs done, one of your boys was infected though,” Patrick spoke once he was close enough, voice barely audible over the ambience of the trailer as intelligence poured through the little hub of electronics.
“Yeah, one of the corporals told me he saw you and one of the other marines carrying him inside. The survivors landed a little while back, glad to see you got out in one piece,” Turning from the panel, Mike’s face was stone cold and calculating, a far cry from the traditionally upbeat expression he usually used when greeting his old friend. But the news was sobering, and like any good officer Mike had to stand tall even when faced with the loss of a man. “He’ll be looked after, you know that,” And Pat certainly did. He could recall how in the early stages of the first outbreak, infected soldiers were simply shot, many by their own hand. Nowadays though the wounded were given treatment, a dose of medicine to impede their transformation as well as a small paycheck to serve as their life source.
“Yeah…now, how about your end of the bargain,” He hated to switch the mood so harshly, but knew that he and Aya were on a bit of a tight schedule, especially if he wanted to get some drink inside himself.
“Of course, I dispatched a squad to load up your truck with the requisite items, and I put out the news to all the bunkers in the city, I’m sure you’ll get business in no time,”
“Sounds good, is that all?”
“No, here’s the list of interested survivors,” Mike revealed a paper from his breast pocket and handed it to his comrade. “Now that’s it. If you ever need anything in the future, you know where to find me,” He returned to the map, and Patrick left in silence, returning to the bustle of the base as he made his way to the mess.
The tender got him a Guinness, and Pat bought the marine’s he’d met on the rescue mission a round of shots, much to their enjoyment. He kept away though, the subconscious knowledge that officers were not to socialize with enlisted men still prevalent in his mind, one that often took over like an auto-pilot during certain situations, and the outbreak made it that much stronger within him.
It was only minutes later that Aya pulled up a stool next to him, he who’d already knocked back two pints and bought another round of shots for the rowdy marines down the bar. “Awesome. Mikey kept his end of the bargain? We get the stuff?" The soldier nodded and turned slowly towards her. "We should probably get it back up the mountain before dark falls. Wonder who those guys in black were at the stad-” The barman got her a drink, and Patrick couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face as she ordered it, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that she didn’t seem to know what she was doing, after all she looked like she’d get kicked out if asked for her ID. ‘Course, some of the lads around were even younger looking.
She coughed as the liquor hit her throat and Pat burst into a fit of laughs, calming himself just long enough to order a Hawaiian punch for the lass, and pulling the whiskey closer to himself. “I think you’ll like this one more,” He said as the barman dropped off her new drink.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jan 12, 2011 1:41:46 GMT -5
Simply nodding her head while making sounds of distaste trying to wish it all away, taking a huge swig of the replacement in hopes to flush it out.
Aya and Patrick had spent more time at the bar than necessary, dismissing their priorities as they enjoyed the living vibe. Without really asking Pat the girl scraped her stool over to the marines they had assisted and entering a kooky conversation, a good dose of laughter, barrage of comments on her age and sharpshooting. They all raised their glasses for the marines lost at the stadium and their man who had been infected in the field, pausing for a minute of silence in their name. The least they could do.
"Okay," she admitted after shuffling back over to Patrick, "Should prolly get a wriggle on," several of the people in the bar had upped and left, less of a buzz than when they entered, "Go and check out those volunteers?" she suggested as she tugged her shirt, slipping her hands into her pockets. Aya was keen to meet the carpenter, the thought of sprucing the place up and fixing holes that had been made during their time with the grizzly.
Waiting in a marble garden between apartment buildings were just over half a dozen people each chatting to each other or looking over documents. One of them stood out from the rest, a woman, a green beret sitting on her head while the glint of her white prosthetic leg picked up sunlight, 'She couldn't be here for us? Surely,' her ultra violet hair and camouflage index swimwear outfit set her apart the most, "Strange woman," said the strange girl of her first impression.
Among the crew however was one familiar face, "Colja!" she called out to the checkpoint cook, the big bear of a man turning around, arms wide to supply a big bear of a hug. He still wore his white mess tent outfit.
"There she is! Little gremlin," the Central Europe man ruffled her hair.
A beaming smile across her face, "Patrick, meet Colja. Cook for the army. Can make rations taste like a restaurant meal," her hands on her hips while beside the cook, a vast difference in height between both of them, only thing missing was a chefs cap which would simply add more height "You are going to be our cook right?" she looked back up to his tanned face concerned it might just be coincidence he was here.
"Of course," he was quick to answer, "The small checkpoints in Raccoon City aren't receiving that much attention anymore," the hint of an Italian accent seeping through his booming voice, "A survivor hotel provides opportunity to help passersby more often. Even more traffic would come through with the military keeping their men there. It will be a popular safe haven," he nodded in agreement.
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Post by Shotgun Yell on Jan 13, 2011 22:55:46 GMT -5
The broad shouldered, massive hulk of a man was introduced to Patrick as Colja, and in turn the soldier put forth his hand with a friendly smile and nod. He was easily a hundred pounds less than this man, and a good half or so foot shorter, but still Pat felt easy as the man’s massive hand engulfed his own. After all, he seemed friendly enough.
“Nice to have you aboard Colja, and it’s good that you’re such a wizard with rations, no doubt you’re even better with fresh food?” The mountaineer’s face was just a small amount redder than usual, his inebriation hidden by his cheerful nature as he went through the mass of people and introduced himself. There was such a wide array of backgrounds, ethnicities, and lifestyles that Patrick thought Mike had picked them for those key factors, but soon realized these were the kinds of people willing to embrace a challenge. It made him eager to get started.
“Alright,” The captain started, addressing the group of possible employee’s, his eyes scanning the group from his elevated position upon a beautiful marble table, it’s position situated right in the middle of the mess of marble columns that ran up between the apartments, ending about twelve feet in the air. “If everyone would please quiet down so we can begin,” A silence overwhelmed the group. “Alright. So, as many of you may know, my partner and myself are looking for prospective employee’s to work with us in rebuilding the hotel out in the Arklay mountains. Some of you may have heard of it, Arnold’s Arklay Hotel. Anyways, there’s not a ton of work to do, but we’ve gathered you together because each of your particular skill sets serve to improve our future haven in some way or another,”
“Now, the way the hotel is going to work, is that it’s basically going to be a bed and breakfast for survivors passing through for the time being. This includes soldier’s, as per the deal I’ve worked out with the man in charge of this complex. Right now we’ve got a single cube truck loaded with supplies for the hotel and another vehicle, which I’d rather not discuss right now. Basically, we can give you all a ride up to the hotel, but that’ll mean that you’ll have to agree to work with us in this endeavour right now,” The speech stopped as Patrick dropped down from his position of power and approached Aya.
“You wanna say anything?”
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Post by Lunapocalypse on Jan 13, 2011 23:40:58 GMT -5
"I guess I should," Aya admitted regardless of being comfortable out of the spotlight. In months to come she would be talking to these people a lot, so it was best they got to know her face now. Jumping up onto the marble table, "It's important you guys understand that the hotel will be your home for a while, high up in the cold of the Arklays. We'll be out of any form of civilizations way until we're done mending the place. However the more hands that are in this and the more we work together means the faster we get it done," she nodded to them, "Alright then," looking to Patrick, "I guess if we're all ready then we should get this show on the road," smiling. They were finally doing this.
Walking with Patrick to the exit, "So we get to keep the Stryker?" she asked, it was the only other vehicle Aya could think the man would speak of. It was perfect for hauling all of the volunteers up the mountain, that was for sure, Aya just wasn't confident about driving the truck up in the dark, Well if you're commandeering the Stryker I can probably ask one of the survivors to drive the truck. I'll lead and you cover the six," stepping through the scanning frame, "Hauling three people and a boatload of supplies will slow her right down, it'll be a crawl getting back up to the hotel and that makes us pretty open targets," she mused.
A couple of the marines which had been with them during the stadium fight had signed up for the hotel assignment, gesturing to the Stryker for a group of the volunteers when everyone moved towards the truck trying to figure out how they would all fit in.
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