"Pack it in, scatter!" You bark, and then you repeat the order over all channels. "Gimmie a Crybaby, Jenkins. Perimeter team, ETA on the bandits?"
"Fifteen minutes, Captain."
"You heard the man, move like I'm still paying you!"
There is a lot of shouting orders and directing people that immediately follows; the mortars need packing up and everyone needs to take up concealed positions. Jenkins and his team split off, intending on drawing attention away, and you do what you can to keep the outward appearance of...
Well, not calm. You are not a calm person. But the outward appearance that this is no more bothersome to you than any of the ten million other things that bother you on a daily basis, most of which are infamously petty, almost all of which are basically a performance. Do you actually hate boba tea? No. Is it deeply funny to pretend that boba tea is your personal enemy? Yes, yes it is. And it means that when you get actually upset, none of your men comment on it. That's just Isoldt being salty, nothing to worry about.
The first cracks of gunfire are preceded by Jenkins warning you that it's him. You raise binoculars to your eyes; your troops and yourself are concealed in a parking garage that you'd pre-swept just for this purpose, and the roof has a pretty commanding view. Where's the bandits...there they are. You lower the binoculars and set them on the concrete safety barrier so you can zoom them in, then raise them to your eyes again. Hrm.
This might be 'bandits' as in 'unknown forces' and not 'bandits' as in 'vermin'. A bit rag-tag, a lot of patched-up suits and houndstooth jackets and such, buncha glasses and half-done-up hairstyles but nothing that screams experienced warriors. The one in the front is pretty cute in a 'step on me teacher' sorta way, but something about her gun is bothering you. What the hell kinda antique clunker is...
"...Hannah," you say slowly, "take these. Look at the leader, there, tell me if I'm seein' her gun right."
Hannah takes the binoculars and takes a look, nice and obediently. One of her more attractive traits. She clicks her tongue, and then frowns. "Captain, is that a revolver chamber?"
"Sure fucking is," you mutter. "Not many of those got made, and none have ever been fired in anger. Care to guess why?"
"You're the gun nut, Cap."
She's not wrong, but you roll your eye at her anyway. "The gun works just fine. The trouble is, on a right-handed shooter the blast from the powder burns your hand; on a left-handed shooter, it burns out your eye. That's why so few were made, the issue wasn't solvable, lever-action was just more practical for a repeating rifle. And
that gun, unless some wild shit happened just before the end of the world, is out of the history museum. I think we found some eggheads."
You take the binoculars back and chew your lip while Jenkins keeps up his distraction. The bandits stop and seem to confer amongst themselves. Nice and easy, the civvies will move away from the sound of gunfire and stop being your prob-
Oh. These brainless goatfuckers are heading
towards the gunfire and your position. You bark an order to ready up, following it up with a nice firm, "
WARNING SHOTS ONLY, YOU KILL SOMEONE AND YOU'RE NEXT!" The eggheads approach in a loose formation, most of them with their weapons ready. Lots of small arms, a few people armed with historical melee weapons. Priceless artifacts, the exact kind of shit your dad wanted you to preserve and these
morons are just...
"I swear to the gods the next time the world ends I'm attacking the museums first," you mutter. "
Fire!" The first volley scatters the eggheads, who scream, cry, and seek cover behind cars that, you gotta note, will not provide effective cover. You stick two fingers in your mouth and whistle sharply, stepping forward so you can be seen easily from the ground. Several seconds pass, and nobody shoots further. Good. The civvies aren't a total loss. "Y'all down there pick the least annoying bitch among you to negotiate, yeah?"
The woman with the revolver-rifle steps forward. Wrong choice, that gun is annoying and it's more annoying than she is attractive, but whatever. "We're just trying to get out of the city," she calls up. "We don't have to fight."
"You're not worth the bullets," you drawl back down at her. "They're getting expensive. But...alright, here's the fuckin' deal..."
Choose 1
[ ] Escort them out of the city with you in exchange for the artifacts they looted and intel on the museum's security
[ ] Press them into your society; can't lose this skilled labor
[ ] Suggest that they attempt to flee over the water; Nattie and the skank might pick them up
They will be warned about the suburbs regardless of your decision here
