Iceman's Trek 13
Smithsguild
The third monkey...
- Location
- Somewhere 'near' Atlanta Ga
(OOC) I'm finally back, with the help of Andrew W. ( our mole inside the EOD/ AT&T branch) an 'Actually' helpful member of AT&T customer support sorted it out. Keep it on the DL; I'm sure being actually useful/helpful is a firing offense.
We can now re-start saving the world, one post at a time.
WARNING - Incoming first of multiple txt walls.
---------------------------------------------------
Michael warms to this band of misfits, people who life threw together and they seem to have gelled into a coherent unit.
The offer of a ride to Savannah with only a couple of hour detour? A meal and someone to watch as he grabbed some shut eye? Hell yes!
(It'd be with one eye open as he trusted no one 100% to watch his ass but himself, but if they had meant him harm it would have happened when Pak's blade was resting on his spine.)
As they settle into the Garage, Tammy and Roger begin to heat water in a hotpot that uses the dune buggies cigarette lighter to draw power.
The quality of the MRE's went way up when actually served warm.
When everyone is served, casual banter begins as Rusty wheedles for any unwanted food items.
Michael asks Maggie: "So Maggie, how'd you all get into the life of resistance members?"
Rusty groans a long suffering groan.
Pak gives a minor chuckle, "Don't encourage her Michael, the only rest our ears get is either when she's chewing or snoring!"
Gregory and Sarah titter mischievously.
"Shush the all of you..." Maggie waves her plastic spork like a police truncheon "...I'm just filling silences."
Pak continues "You're right Maggie; I was being totally unfair. You're also quite whenever 'your Jacob' is near. Then you go all moonstruck schoolgirl, all demure and shy, she even blushes. It's the biggest role reversal since Jekell & Hyde."
Maggie throws the spork like a dagger and Pak casually waves it away.
Rusty snorts, catches Maggie's eye and then pretends it was only him choking instead. Now the junior party members go from veiled titters to full throated open laughter.
Maggie lifts her chin imperiously and pointedly pretends the last exchange never occurred, one would think she were truly mad if not for the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and the upturned corners of her mouth as she faux-scowls.
"Anyhow to answer your question, we are all natives more or less of the area inside Charleston's control. To really understand us you need to understand the Origins of Liberty."
Sarah whispers to young Gregory "Pay up, I -told you- she'd do the origin story."
Crestfallen the boy hands over the hard candy from his MRE. But his eyes dart back up to Maggie in anticipation of the beloved yet too familiar story.
"As is too often the case, the story begins with suffering of some people under the yoke of Charleston. These were a few dozen men working an oil rig and feeling the overseer's boot more often than anything else.
That is until the Overseer's made the mistake on firing on an unarmed helicopter from Savannah. Twas a hornet's nest they kicked, in less than an hour platoons of men were rappelling in as helicopter gunships kept a vigil.
These were trained soldiers who knew their jobs; the riff raff serving the overseers were only thugs with guns.
Saying it was a one sided battle is putting it mildly.
The thugs resorted to blackmail and threatened to capsize the tanker from the Captain's deck, Savannah refused to be strong armed and blew the entire command deck apart with a rpg barrage and took control of the ship from steerage and the engine room.
Once they had control, they sorted thugs from the men they had abused. They ended the thugs quickly and with no joy, but they understood that rabid dogs are best laid to rest quickly.
The captives they offered a gift, a choice take some supplies and head wherever in the world they wished or come settle outside Savannah and enjoy the fruits of their own labor.
Savannah discouraged 'mob rule' and allowed those men to make their own way. Violent crime wouldn't be tolerated in their borders, and they even offered soldiers to help keep those men safe until they could fend for themselves.
Never wishing to be a burden to our new friends in Savannah, the people worked hard and learned to protect themselves. They re-christened the hamlet held to 'Liberty' to daily remember the gift of choice and the freedom to decide our own path.
Sometimes old habits die hard, someone offered our armed guardians 'tribute' in appreciation of the better life.
This unnamed soldier said something that changed 'Liberty's' way of thinking forever.
"I appreciate your offer, but I have all I need. Keep it for yourself or if you really don't need it give it to someone else who does."
That struck a chord, there were so many people under Charleston's thumb starving and struggling to make it until tomorrow.
Sometimes the struggle is so fierce you begin to wonder, why bother? Not everyone finds an answer... It was just the reality of life in Charleston's shadow. Everyone who's lived it has it etched into them, and it's always only one bad dream away.
I can see it on you too Michael, not as deep as some but there as sure as I live and breath.
In Liberty we can smile, but that reality still lingers an hour or two over the horizon. Who can put it truly behind knowing that?
The men gathered and argued is there no way to share this gift forward, that Savannah had given?
Some of those dozens of men had family or friends that were left struggling in the badlands around Charleston. Could we not sneak in and bring some of those people back here? And if they wouldn't come back couldn't our surplus be given to make their lives there BETTER?
In weeks Liberty grew from a handful of men, to hundreds of people, even whole families migrated back.
No person sitting with you tonight Michael were among that first handful rescued from that Rig, we are the beneficiaries of Savannah's gift being paid forward.
We all as individuals have our own tales to share if we wish, but they have the common thread "Suffer in Charleston's shadow until given back their freedom by a Son or Daughter of Liberty."
My crew and myself? Why we're just paying it forward.
As to becoming the resistance, that was just us evolving to give the gift of choice without losing as many as we gain. Experience is a harsh teacher.
My Jacob is a helluva gunsmith but he's no fighter, he trips over his laces when he walks the dear, but he gives back by building solid weapons and ammo for those that run the border and those who refuse to leave. Those that are too scared to leave or to arm up we still offer food or health care to as we can.
Some of us have a talent for violence when pushed... Rusty, Pak, even young Greg over there. They look out for Ol' Denmothers like me who can talk or think our way out of a scrape, or Tammy there who knows how to treat sickness with Herbs and can do a mean suture in a pinch. It all balances out.
Pak there, taught a lot of us how to survive... He was retired black ops military from over in Asia. Was it China or Korea again Pak?"
Maggies eyes twinkle at her intentional mischief.
Pak went from smiling to looking like he had bitten a persimmon.
"Niether Maggie, it was Cambodia and it is a land of much beauty and of dark hearted men like the Deacon." The Dark pall only lasts a heartbeat before Pak's mask slips back into place. "But I prefer Georgia and all the pretty peaches!"
Maggie grinned like the cheshire cat knowing her barb had evened the score for his earlier teasing. Pak smiled and tipped an imaginary cap to her.
Maggie continued on unabated, switching back to her story like she'd never left it.
"And there is always room in our vehicles and in our homes for one more back in Liberty...
We push no one to do anything they don't want to do, but so far all rescued have felt a debt, and find their own paths to contribute.
We do ask that all our citizens learn to defend themselves and never be an easy victim again.
The dissidents, and those others that seek our aid, often insist on paying in exchange with scavenged salvage. Things the raiders would steal away anyhow, that is the surplus we give to Savannah each month, we keep only enough from it to keep the wheels rolling and to expand our operations as needed.
At any one time we probably have 6-8 crews like ours working the Badlands. They form spontaneously whenever a group 'clicks' and thinks they can do the job, they make a few runs with an experienced crew to learn the hows and whys, and more importantly what NOT to do.
Crews only run with Liberty's Council's approval and with the understanding, we aren't an Army, and we aren't trying to wage a war. We are only helping free those we can and give aid to those that won't leave.
There are some Hardcore resistance people out here in the Bad pushing for us to bring a war, but Liberty doesn't have the resources, or manpower to win a shooting war. Harass and obstruct is the agenda we argue back... don't bring Savannah a war until they say they're ready for it.
One day Savannah will bring the 'Real War' and if the Rig stories are the right of it, the thugs of the Esoteric Order of Dagon, the sodding fish fondlers, will suffer a rude awakening. I swear, Savannah even has two Jaegers!".
Michael thought to himself, maybe one Jaeger piloted by two untested rookies in lord only knows what current state of disrepair, and another buried on its last legs in the heart of enemy territory.
Maggie continues on with barely a pause to inhale. "Mammoth is a beast with at least a half dozen kills, and the other one, whatz'is name Pak?"
Pak smiles 'Whitecap Triton'.
Maggie grins "That ones thin and wiry, same way a Sea Lion is and he looks like he'd not leave a ripple in his wake."
Michael sits for a heartbeat like he'd been pole-axed, mouth half open forgetting he was in mid-chew.
At least Six kills?!? Ezra and Keerat were owed an apology when he got back. And a second Jaeger and it wasn't on any of the active rosters -OR- even being planned as far as he knew of, and being regularly melded with a Marshal there weren't a lot ways to keep a Jaeger a secret.
Could Savannah be doing good enough to have -built- a new 'Jaeger' from the ground up? Jeez Louise, was he out of the freakin loop.
He came to himself a few seconds too late to cover his slip, both Maggie and Pak were staring holes in him.
Maggie is the first to break the silent tension.
"I'll be damned, you -ARE- him! You're Michael Casey,one of the co-pilots for 'Bracer Phoenix'.
You had the same look on your face when that talk show host during his live interview brought up the death of your wife and daughter, a lost look mixed with confusion. I cried for you that day, that heartless bastard ambushing you for ratings.
Everyone Savannah way, they think your dead! Where are Hunter and Angel? Was Bracer destroyed? Shit! I'm just concerned and curious, share no more than you will.
As the leader; I'm scrubbing the arms delivery, Browdrick has missed the last two meets and left our dangly bits flapping in the breeze waiting on him. He takes a back seat to getting this man home to Savannah. We can drop the MRE's at Sally's squat she'll see it gets to where it's needed.
A half hour after this Mist lifts we'll be Savannah bound running hot and pray no drones are watching. We're not far enough in for us to be likely found. And I feel getting you to Savannah's Council ASAP may get us a step closer to giving Charleston the finger."
(OOC) If you want more info, respond as Michael, an omake style response or simply a list of question you want me to ask in Michaels voice. If this answered your questions about the resistance and your content with information given then just let it lie.
We can now re-start saving the world, one post at a time.
WARNING - Incoming first of multiple txt walls.
---------------------------------------------------
Michael warms to this band of misfits, people who life threw together and they seem to have gelled into a coherent unit.
The offer of a ride to Savannah with only a couple of hour detour? A meal and someone to watch as he grabbed some shut eye? Hell yes!
(It'd be with one eye open as he trusted no one 100% to watch his ass but himself, but if they had meant him harm it would have happened when Pak's blade was resting on his spine.)
As they settle into the Garage, Tammy and Roger begin to heat water in a hotpot that uses the dune buggies cigarette lighter to draw power.
The quality of the MRE's went way up when actually served warm.
When everyone is served, casual banter begins as Rusty wheedles for any unwanted food items.
Michael asks Maggie: "So Maggie, how'd you all get into the life of resistance members?"
Rusty groans a long suffering groan.
Pak gives a minor chuckle, "Don't encourage her Michael, the only rest our ears get is either when she's chewing or snoring!"
Gregory and Sarah titter mischievously.
"Shush the all of you..." Maggie waves her plastic spork like a police truncheon "...I'm just filling silences."
Pak continues "You're right Maggie; I was being totally unfair. You're also quite whenever 'your Jacob' is near. Then you go all moonstruck schoolgirl, all demure and shy, she even blushes. It's the biggest role reversal since Jekell & Hyde."
Maggie throws the spork like a dagger and Pak casually waves it away.
Rusty snorts, catches Maggie's eye and then pretends it was only him choking instead. Now the junior party members go from veiled titters to full throated open laughter.
Maggie lifts her chin imperiously and pointedly pretends the last exchange never occurred, one would think she were truly mad if not for the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and the upturned corners of her mouth as she faux-scowls.
"Anyhow to answer your question, we are all natives more or less of the area inside Charleston's control. To really understand us you need to understand the Origins of Liberty."
Sarah whispers to young Gregory "Pay up, I -told you- she'd do the origin story."
Crestfallen the boy hands over the hard candy from his MRE. But his eyes dart back up to Maggie in anticipation of the beloved yet too familiar story.
"As is too often the case, the story begins with suffering of some people under the yoke of Charleston. These were a few dozen men working an oil rig and feeling the overseer's boot more often than anything else.
That is until the Overseer's made the mistake on firing on an unarmed helicopter from Savannah. Twas a hornet's nest they kicked, in less than an hour platoons of men were rappelling in as helicopter gunships kept a vigil.
These were trained soldiers who knew their jobs; the riff raff serving the overseers were only thugs with guns.
Saying it was a one sided battle is putting it mildly.
The thugs resorted to blackmail and threatened to capsize the tanker from the Captain's deck, Savannah refused to be strong armed and blew the entire command deck apart with a rpg barrage and took control of the ship from steerage and the engine room.
Once they had control, they sorted thugs from the men they had abused. They ended the thugs quickly and with no joy, but they understood that rabid dogs are best laid to rest quickly.
The captives they offered a gift, a choice take some supplies and head wherever in the world they wished or come settle outside Savannah and enjoy the fruits of their own labor.
Savannah discouraged 'mob rule' and allowed those men to make their own way. Violent crime wouldn't be tolerated in their borders, and they even offered soldiers to help keep those men safe until they could fend for themselves.
Never wishing to be a burden to our new friends in Savannah, the people worked hard and learned to protect themselves. They re-christened the hamlet held to 'Liberty' to daily remember the gift of choice and the freedom to decide our own path.
Sometimes old habits die hard, someone offered our armed guardians 'tribute' in appreciation of the better life.
This unnamed soldier said something that changed 'Liberty's' way of thinking forever.
"I appreciate your offer, but I have all I need. Keep it for yourself or if you really don't need it give it to someone else who does."
That struck a chord, there were so many people under Charleston's thumb starving and struggling to make it until tomorrow.
Sometimes the struggle is so fierce you begin to wonder, why bother? Not everyone finds an answer... It was just the reality of life in Charleston's shadow. Everyone who's lived it has it etched into them, and it's always only one bad dream away.
I can see it on you too Michael, not as deep as some but there as sure as I live and breath.
In Liberty we can smile, but that reality still lingers an hour or two over the horizon. Who can put it truly behind knowing that?
The men gathered and argued is there no way to share this gift forward, that Savannah had given?
Some of those dozens of men had family or friends that were left struggling in the badlands around Charleston. Could we not sneak in and bring some of those people back here? And if they wouldn't come back couldn't our surplus be given to make their lives there BETTER?
In weeks Liberty grew from a handful of men, to hundreds of people, even whole families migrated back.
No person sitting with you tonight Michael were among that first handful rescued from that Rig, we are the beneficiaries of Savannah's gift being paid forward.
We all as individuals have our own tales to share if we wish, but they have the common thread "Suffer in Charleston's shadow until given back their freedom by a Son or Daughter of Liberty."
My crew and myself? Why we're just paying it forward.
As to becoming the resistance, that was just us evolving to give the gift of choice without losing as many as we gain. Experience is a harsh teacher.
My Jacob is a helluva gunsmith but he's no fighter, he trips over his laces when he walks the dear, but he gives back by building solid weapons and ammo for those that run the border and those who refuse to leave. Those that are too scared to leave or to arm up we still offer food or health care to as we can.
Some of us have a talent for violence when pushed... Rusty, Pak, even young Greg over there. They look out for Ol' Denmothers like me who can talk or think our way out of a scrape, or Tammy there who knows how to treat sickness with Herbs and can do a mean suture in a pinch. It all balances out.
Pak there, taught a lot of us how to survive... He was retired black ops military from over in Asia. Was it China or Korea again Pak?"
Maggies eyes twinkle at her intentional mischief.
Pak went from smiling to looking like he had bitten a persimmon.
"Niether Maggie, it was Cambodia and it is a land of much beauty and of dark hearted men like the Deacon." The Dark pall only lasts a heartbeat before Pak's mask slips back into place. "But I prefer Georgia and all the pretty peaches!"
Maggie grinned like the cheshire cat knowing her barb had evened the score for his earlier teasing. Pak smiled and tipped an imaginary cap to her.
Maggie continued on unabated, switching back to her story like she'd never left it.
"And there is always room in our vehicles and in our homes for one more back in Liberty...
We push no one to do anything they don't want to do, but so far all rescued have felt a debt, and find their own paths to contribute.
We do ask that all our citizens learn to defend themselves and never be an easy victim again.
The dissidents, and those others that seek our aid, often insist on paying in exchange with scavenged salvage. Things the raiders would steal away anyhow, that is the surplus we give to Savannah each month, we keep only enough from it to keep the wheels rolling and to expand our operations as needed.
At any one time we probably have 6-8 crews like ours working the Badlands. They form spontaneously whenever a group 'clicks' and thinks they can do the job, they make a few runs with an experienced crew to learn the hows and whys, and more importantly what NOT to do.
Crews only run with Liberty's Council's approval and with the understanding, we aren't an Army, and we aren't trying to wage a war. We are only helping free those we can and give aid to those that won't leave.
There are some Hardcore resistance people out here in the Bad pushing for us to bring a war, but Liberty doesn't have the resources, or manpower to win a shooting war. Harass and obstruct is the agenda we argue back... don't bring Savannah a war until they say they're ready for it.
One day Savannah will bring the 'Real War' and if the Rig stories are the right of it, the thugs of the Esoteric Order of Dagon, the sodding fish fondlers, will suffer a rude awakening. I swear, Savannah even has two Jaegers!".
Michael thought to himself, maybe one Jaeger piloted by two untested rookies in lord only knows what current state of disrepair, and another buried on its last legs in the heart of enemy territory.
Maggie continues on with barely a pause to inhale. "Mammoth is a beast with at least a half dozen kills, and the other one, whatz'is name Pak?"
Pak smiles 'Whitecap Triton'.
Maggie grins "That ones thin and wiry, same way a Sea Lion is and he looks like he'd not leave a ripple in his wake."
Michael sits for a heartbeat like he'd been pole-axed, mouth half open forgetting he was in mid-chew.
At least Six kills?!? Ezra and Keerat were owed an apology when he got back. And a second Jaeger and it wasn't on any of the active rosters -OR- even being planned as far as he knew of, and being regularly melded with a Marshal there weren't a lot ways to keep a Jaeger a secret.
Could Savannah be doing good enough to have -built- a new 'Jaeger' from the ground up? Jeez Louise, was he out of the freakin loop.
He came to himself a few seconds too late to cover his slip, both Maggie and Pak were staring holes in him.
Maggie is the first to break the silent tension.
"I'll be damned, you -ARE- him! You're Michael Casey,one of the co-pilots for 'Bracer Phoenix'.
You had the same look on your face when that talk show host during his live interview brought up the death of your wife and daughter, a lost look mixed with confusion. I cried for you that day, that heartless bastard ambushing you for ratings.
Everyone Savannah way, they think your dead! Where are Hunter and Angel? Was Bracer destroyed? Shit! I'm just concerned and curious, share no more than you will.
As the leader; I'm scrubbing the arms delivery, Browdrick has missed the last two meets and left our dangly bits flapping in the breeze waiting on him. He takes a back seat to getting this man home to Savannah. We can drop the MRE's at Sally's squat she'll see it gets to where it's needed.
A half hour after this Mist lifts we'll be Savannah bound running hot and pray no drones are watching. We're not far enough in for us to be likely found. And I feel getting you to Savannah's Council ASAP may get us a step closer to giving Charleston the finger."
(OOC) If you want more info, respond as Michael, an omake style response or simply a list of question you want me to ask in Michaels voice. If this answered your questions about the resistance and your content with information given then just let it lie.
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