Chloe's head popped up at the sound of squealing tires, and swiveled in the direction the sound was coming from. Her helmet optics zoomed in on the frantic-looking soldier in the fruit truck's front seat, driving, and her heat sensors picked up bodies in the back. She saw the little girl shooting at the truck, as well.
Given that the Legion apparently accepted one child, why not more? she thought to herself, and then put it together.
In one smooth motion, the stretcher was carefully laid on the ground, her rifle was at her shoulder, and she laid a bead on the truck's engine compartment. She felt her perception of time grind to a halt as her finger made its way to the trigger, thumb flicking off the safety. She breathed in, deep, and let it out in a shout, her helmet speakers' volume maxed out to full shout-over-artillery volume-
"GET DOWN!"
Then her finger stroked the trigger stud, sending a Mach 7.8 shard of tungsten wrapped around an explosive core on its way with a boom more fit to coming from a 20th century artillery piece than any handheld weapon had any right to possess.
Rachel slid to a stop and got down to one knee, her stealth field powering down as she lined up a shot with her borrowed rifle.
There were certain rules one had to follow when trying to stop an enemy vehicle. First, that standing anywhere near the front was an invitation to suicide. Second, that while cracking the engine block would stop nearly anything dead, doing so required a considerable amount force.
Third was that killing the driver was an invitation for the vehicle to do some very unpredictable things, and should only be done if you really didn't care about what the runaway vehicle would drive into.
Fourth was that, lacking any other choice, shooting at the tires was a good bet 90% of the time.
So Rachel held her breath, lined up the sights, and popped both tires on the back of the truck with three shots each.
Rachel winced at the explosion, and briefly glanced towards Chara. Thankfully, the kid seemed to be fine...
Chloe's head popped up at the sound of squealing tires, and swiveled in the direction the sound was coming from. Her helmet optics zoomed in on the frantic-looking soldier in the fruit truck's front seat, driving, and her heat sensors picked up bodies in the back. She saw the little girl shooting at the truck, as well.
Given that the Legion apparently accepted one child, why not more? she thought to herself, and then put it together.
In one smooth motion, the stretcher was carefully laid on the ground, her rifle was at her shoulder, and she laid a bead on the truck's engine compartment. She felt her perception of time grind to a halt as her finger made its way to the trigger, thumb flicking off the safety. She breathed in, deep, and let it out in a shout, her helmet speakers' volume maxed out to full shout-over-artillery volume-
"GET DOWN!"
Then her finger stroked the trigger stud, sending a Mach 7.8 shard of tungsten wrapped around an explosive core on its way with a boom more fit to coming from a 20th century artillery piece than any handheld weapon had any right to possess.
As the truck undoubtedly slid to a stop from all of the projectiles hitting it, if it wasn't already reduced to a pile of rubble, Phonos dashed up to the truck at his top speed of 60 MPH and tore the remains of the passenger door off its hinges and tossed it aside like a banana peel. If there were any survivors, went to town on them in the enclosed space, using his enhanced strength and metal claws to rip through any obstructions and using the blunted side of his hand to "back-fist" his enemies unconscious (which would normally be a very bad idea for a humanoid individual, but when you're wearing an exoskeleton that can lift 1000 pounds, you can get away with it).
As the truck undoubtedly slid to a stop from all of the projectiles hitting it, if it wasn't already reduced to a pile of rubble, Phonos dashed up to the truck at his top speed of 60 MPH and tore the remains of the passenger door off its hinges and tossed it aside like a banana peel. If there were any survivors, went to town on them in the enclosed space, using his enhanced strength and metal claws to rip through any obstructions and using the blunted side of his hand to "back-fist" his enemies unconscious (which would normally be a very bad idea for a humanoid individual, but when you're wearing an exoskeleton that can lift 1000 pounds, you can get away with it).
"Thanks, Bahzell." Tukson said, despite feeling that the man's words rang hollow. He gazed blankly at his hands, idly noting that he was still holding the Flashlight of Doom in one hand. The part about him being freaked out was understandable, but he hadn't done good. Thinking back, he had landed exactly one hit with a gun. He got to take credit for zero kills, with assists claimed on that one group of baddies he had targeted for the Titan. Then that bastard had snuck up on him, even with his bloody enhanced senses. He let his arms fall limply to his sides. He had done horribly for Oum's sake! Even people with no ranged capabilities had preformed better than him.
With a sigh of frustration, he leaned back against the dead body and wall behind him, too exhausted to bother moving. Looking down, he saw a knife laying on the ground, near his left hand. He reached over and picked it up, examining the make of it.
And they managed to get away. Emily watched the surviving gunmen escape. That would be something to handle. For now, there were wounded soldiers to handle. On the bright side, assuming nobody tried to get tehm out, there should still be several inconsious gunmen that she left on the catwalk. She used far reach to go back up to the catwalk and brought one of them down. Emily was carrying the unconscious gunman over her shoulder as she began looking forone of the commanding officers.
Barreling past the sobbing kid, Igor goes to the first injured patient he sees and puts the artifact on the skin next to the giant splinter that the woman has embedded in her thigh. The Heart lights up in pulses, as the rejuvenating energies start coursing through the woman's body. The Geiger counter suddenly starts screaming magnitudes louder than before, and Igor shuts it in the lead container, at the same moment as he rips off the splinter. The wound spurts blood for a few seconds, before closing in an ugly-looking scar.
Before taking the first artifact off of the woman, Igor takes off a necklace from his neck and presses the glowing green rock underneath the woman's nose. The rock suddenly lights up as well, before somehow releasing a gas that the woman inhales.
After waiting for a few seconds to be sure the patient inhaled the gas, he stands up, and Heart in hand approaches a nearby doctor.
"Make sure everyone present takes radiation treatment unless they want cancer before tomorrow" - Having said that, Igor approaches the next patient, and begins the entire operation again only to find that he already died. Shrugging his shoulders, he steps over the dead man and begins the operation on the next patient, and the next... and the next...
Steven watched as Igor went ahead and began tending to the wounded, shuddering as he heard the cries and moans of those who were still alive. Part of him wanted to do exactly what Igor suggested and just get as far away from here as possible.
But he remembered why he had come. He wanted to make a difference. And he had the power to do so. The Crystal Gems wouldn't run away from something like this, and neither would he.
Wiping his tears away, Steven rushed over to the medic station, grabbing as many pairs of disposable latex gloves and he could and stuffing them in his pockets. He then put on a pair of them and hurried over to the nearest wounded person. It was a young man, likely only a few years older than himself, laying on his side with a serious gash in his abdomen. He had already lost a lot of blood, and was crying in pain and delirium. "Oh God...oh God, not like this...," he sobbed.
Steven grimaced at the sight, but took a calming breath and knelt down before him. "It's okay, you're gonna be okay," he told the wounded man as he reached in and opened up his shirt to get a full view of the wound. He then drew out a bit of saliva and spit it onto his gloved hand before reaching out and smearing it over the young man's wound, making sure to skirt the inside edges as well. He gasped in pain for a moment, but then the bloodied and rent flesh began to glow and shimmer, the edges of the wound growing inward and knitting back together. In just a few seconds, the gash had closed completely, leaving a thick line of tender, regenerated flesh. The man breathed heavily in exhaustion, but he was no longer dying in agonizing pain.
Steven sighed in relief. But he couldn't stop here. There were many more wounded who needed help. Taking another breath, he took off the bloodied glove and threw it away, putting on a new one in its place and moving to the next casualty.
Meanwhile, engineers and shipgirls surrounded the fallen Northstar. Lacking any stretcher large enough to hold the Titan, they resorted to having the shipgirls and a certain Witch with super-strength (Barkhorn) carrying her by hand, using their prodigious strength. They quickly carried her out of the indoor gymnasium, and down the street towards the garage.
One of the shipgirls carrying her stumbled.
"Hey, watch it! You're carrying one of my troopers here!" Barkhorn shouted.
After dropping off the medics and telling Jasper to assist them, Ralph kicks the back end of his cycle out to the side and pops up over the shattered hall.
He pulls up next to the group carrying DC-2750.
"Sir. My steed," he pats the motorcycle, "can carry her. If someone helps steady her and can navigate me to the repair bays, that would still free up you and two others."
Though the troopers around our PCs were still tense, looking around and watching for any lone assasin who could sneak in while everyone's distracted, for the most part, the crisis seemed to have ended.
Bahzell grinned as the odd, half visible assassin stabbed the idiot hostage-taker through the eye.
Well. If one was to be extraordinarily generous with their definition of "grin", that is. With Tomanak's azure flames blazing about him and the icy blue of the Rage in his eyes, he looked like a vengeful god, delighting in the smiting of another sinner.
"That was after being foolish of him. Ya alright, laddie?"
As Bahzell spoke, his rumbling baritone echoed, with the last traces of the fading power of Tomanak. No longer needed for theatrics, he would turn it to the final task of any battle, healing those who were about to slip to Isavaria's table.
Unlike the fires of Tomanak, however, the Rage remained in his eyes. Now, it would assist him in maintaining the focus needed for healing. Bahzell wordlessly knelt by the nearest severely wounded trooper, pressed his forehead to the quillons of his sword, and his hand to the man's chest, and focused.
"Saddle up. Do not get off the bike until I tell you we have arrived safely. You may wish to close your eyes for the trip."
The engine growls and then the squid peels away into the Hedge in a cloud of inky exhuast. Ralph maneuvers at speed through the labyrinthine pillars of stone and saltwater, taking a slight detour through the barracks to collect his rifle and hunting spider. The squid emerges near the ceiling of the auditorium and rolls into a steep dive down to the floor, Ralph calling out "FRIENDLIES! Sir, I got the medics! Who need fastest evac?"
In a few minutes, more than half the Base's medical and military police personeel would swarm the Indoor Gym, but Ralph helped put the first responders on the scene.
The whole mass of bodies were put under Triage. Those with the most grevious injuries were put on Ralph's steed to be sent directly to the Base Clinic's emergency ward, while the rest were worked on medics on-site.
NorthStar was also carried by Ralph, and she was able to be taken in by the Base Garage for repairs quickly.
Synn did not speak further. As the trip finally came to an end and she disembarked, she couldn't help but notice the stream of bodies. It didn't phase her much ; she simply noted that there must have been a stream of casualties. The looks of the young humanoid with the exposed lower body did catch her attention but what did even more was her speech.
She straightened and all of her playfulness was thrown away. It is time to go to work, assess the situation, and make herself useful.
The other arrival did surprise her. She clearly had ears and a tail... but the traits were far too human for her to be an Animaloid. How odd. Still, when she asked about healing powers...
She entered the room. But even that scene of carnage did not cause her to flinch. She merely noted the destruction. This sounded as if explosives had been used. Or maybe magic? Gravitic distortions? Regardless...
"I have powers that allow me to scan one with perfect accuracy. My powers can be used for healing but only on creatures whose biology I know." She smiled faintly and acidly. "Thankfully, I'm seeing Humanoids here."
She closed her eyes and didn't waste one more second. She cleared out all thoughts and purged all perception. Before her eyes, as all sight, smells, and sensations faded, she found herself before an infinite mass of strange and unknown symbols. She knew that already, many of those souls had ceased to be in their living state and had transitioned to whatever came next in this reality, if there was anything. But she could identify those who had not yet made the transition... or at least, she thought so.
She was no longer touching the floor. Her body was suspended in mid-air, her eyes closed. On the floor, strange, eldritch symbols begun to appear and glow brightly, as if coming from nowhere. She could not save those whose species she had never seen before and in fact, she wasn't sure if her powers would work in this new world without a Re-Synchronization. Still, she had to try.
So she tried. The Phaze was long given how much damage was upon those souls... but as there wasn't any danger to her own person at the moment, she could afford the wait. It was her responsability to try.
If this worked, the humans before her would find themselves with their bodies suddenly functional again, the injuries gone and all limbs and body parts to their former state. She had attempted to revert them to a healthy, intact status.
Her eyes flared open as she unleashed the Phaze, her eyes glowing yellow for a moment.
Hopefully, it will have worked. If not... then she won't give up. The alternative is unpleasant... but this is her opportunity for a first impression and to save lives. She will not throw it away without a honest attempt.
Several humanoids would find themselves suddenly awake, sitting up and breathing heavily, eyes wide in surprise. Nobody was brought back from the dead, but several heavily injured were healed completely. The only evidence of their prior state were the damage and blood on their clothes.
Steven's eyes widened in horror at the sight of the dead and injured being carried from the building. He had seen blood and gore in movies, but seeing real people dead and mutilated like this...
The medic's request for people with healing powers caught his attention. Trying to clamp down on the visceral emotions welling up inside him, he raised his hand. "I-I can heal injuries with my spit," he said as he followed after her. The fact that she wasn't wearing pants didn't even register to him right now.
It got worse after he followed her inside. The smell of burning and blood hung heavy in the air, and the bodies...there were so many bodies.
Tears began to stream down Steven's face. He breathed in and out to try and compose himself as he followed the medic, covering his nose with his shirt to try and block out the horrible smell.
Igor jumped out of the truck and immediately frowned. The number of injured and dead streaming through the base was significant, and Igor wondered what exactly happened here. It must've been quite a big attack, to kill so many people.
Either that or someone attacked from the inside. But still, the damage around had more in common with the anomalies from the Zone than conventional weaponry. Then again, the Legion was supposed to be multi-dimensional, so people wielding powers similar to the anomalies could exist. Like the Chloe with that flame.
His musings got broken by the baffling sight of the... officer addressing them. Igor looked at the pant-less kid in bafflement, tempted to comment on the apparent age and lack of clothing, before shaking his head slightly and ignoring the thoughts. It's better to go with the flow and, hopefully, this army isn't like the bastards that enjoyed shooting stalkers for asking question. Or walking. Or breathing at all.
Taking a fresh cigarette and lighting it, he noticed a new woman approaching. Noticing her... unique appendages, he blinked a few times.
'Gonzo'd be in heaven here, the twisted freak'- Thought Igor, while looking at the extra ears on her head. 'Wonder it they actually work, must be useful when hunting'
Listening to the woman, Igor considered using the artifact to help the others. He was reluctant to give it to anyone, since many stalkers would gladly shoot him in the back and take off with the extremely valuable prize. He stood still for a moment, the two thoughts warring in his mind, before sighing and talking out the lead container and opening it. The Geiger counter started chirping shrilly again, but Igor ignored it.
"Look, I have this artifact here that will be able to heal anyone really quickly when in contact with their flesh, but it gives off a lot of rads. I have used it for a long time, and am used to the... consequences, so it would be best if it stayed in my hands." - He said to the wolf-woman, while picking out the crystallised fruit and walking towards the medical building.
"It would be best to prepare some anti-rad medicine though, not many can handle the output."
"Kid, you wanna be as far from this as possible, unless you can handle radiation. "
Barreling past the sobbing kid, Igor goes to the first injured patient he sees and puts the artifact on the skin next to the giant splinter that the woman has embedded in her thigh. The Heart lights up in pulses, as the rejuvenating energies start coursing through the woman's body. The Geiger counter suddenly starts screaming magnitudes louder than before, and Igor shuts it in the lead container, at the same moment as he rips off the splinter. The wound spurts blood for a few seconds, before closing in an ugly-looking scar.
Before taking the first artifact off of the woman, Igor takes off a necklace from his neck and presses the glowing green rock underneath the woman's nose. The rock suddenly lights up as well, before somehow releasing a gas that the woman inhales.
After waiting for a few seconds to be sure the patient inhaled the gas, he stands up, and Heart in hand approaches a nearby doctor.
"Make sure everyone present takes radiation treatment unless they want cancer before tomorrow" - Having said that, Igor approaches the next patient, and begins the entire operation again only to find that he already died. Shrugging his shoulders, he steps over the dead man and begins the operation on the next patient, and the next... and the next...
Another officer placed a hand on the sputtering medic. "C'mon, man, we can deal with this shit later. Right now, a few more helping hands might mean the difference between someone living or dying today."
"Yeah, if the so-called helping hand wasn't also causing serious harm just by being near the patients..."
"Look man, we have anti-radiation drugs. C'mon, they should be in that truck down by the side."
As they sprinted away from the scene, the disgruntled medical officer looked back at the Stalker using the artifact.
"Fucking Legion, always doing crazy shit and expectin' everyone else to do cleanup..." he quietly hissed to himself.
Upon reaching a couple miles away from the base, Eileen sits stright up hand on her blade. "I smell blood a lot of it, prepare for a fight we don't know what awaits us."
Upon reaching the base and hearing Officer Hartman's explanation she address's her. "Officer Hartman the only thing, I'm only truly good at hunting. With permission I'd like to follow I can track by smell rather well, and well frankly you don't me dealing with your wounded for health reasons."
"Well, I'm pretty sure we got all of them already, but I guess we can't take any risks. You can try tracking down any stragglers you find. Protip: At this point, they'll probably try and go over or through the surrounding fence, instead of exiting through the front gate. This whole place is an island, but they probably already knew that, so chances are they'll try to escape by raft or something. Try and get them before that, okay? And, if you think you'll need backup for this, you can ask any of the others along, too. Just tell Auntie Erica before you go off, okay? Otherwise, I might think you got kidnapped or something."
Pausing for a second Eileen looks noticeably down beak making it impossible not to notice, "Not to be rude Officer Hartman but we're wading though a lot of blood right now, and not wearing pants is a health hazard especially if you have any cuts."
"Ah, it's fine, it's fine, granny..." F/O Hartmann waved off. "Us Witches' Magic protected us pretty well against the miasma produced by the Neuroi, so it should be alright against good ol' germs, too."
OOC: I actually assumed they intercepted me right over the gym.
Aurelion Sol sighed, a paw reached up to rub at his snout.
"Alright, alright... Calm yourself! I don't eat mortals. You all taste like poptarts and sadness!" With a huff, he turned, and flew back toward thr gym. "It's this way. None of you seriously received any emergency announcement on your marshal getting shot at?"
"Well, we were just returning to base when people started screaming through the radio for help. W-We were rather confused, so we asked the nearest flying thing for d-directions... I think I heard that someone shot the Marshall somewhere, but we forgot where he was supposed to be."
As they neared the scene of the crime, they saw the escape that the gunmen tried to use as an escape vehicle, skid out of control and end up on it's side, blocking the entire width of the road in the process. In response, the flying little girls moved in...
Rachel slid to a stop and got down to one knee, her stealth field powering down as she lined up a shot with her borrowed rifle.
There were certain rules one had to follow when trying to stop an enemy vehicle. First, that standing anywhere near the front was an invitation to suicide. Second, that while cracking the engine block would stop nearly anything dead, doing so required a considerable amount force.
Third was that killing the driver was an invitation for the vehicle to do some very unpredictable things, and should only be done if you really didn't care about what the runaway vehicle would drive into.
Fourth was that, lacking any other choice, shooting at the tires was a good bet 90% of the time.
So Rachel held her breath, lined up the sights, and popped both tires on the back of the truck with three shots each.
Rachel winced at the explosion, and briefly glanced towards Chara.
Thankfully, Chara seemed to be fi- er, they seemed to have things in hand.
As Rachel fired, the tires popped as easily as ballons falling on pins. The truck proceded to skid across the asphalt, before losing balance and falling on it's side, completely blocking the road in the process. The back of the truck also slammed against a fire hydrant, causing water to jet out at high pressure.
Chloe's head popped up at the sound of squealing tires, and swiveled in the direction the sound was coming from. Her helmet optics zoomed in on the frantic-looking soldier in the fruit truck's front seat, driving, and her heat sensors picked up bodies in the back. She saw the little girl shooting at the truck, as well.
Given that the Legion apparently accepted one child, why not more? she thought to herself, and then put it together.
In one smooth motion, the stretcher was carefully laid on the ground, her rifle was at her shoulder, and she laid a bead on the truck's engine compartment. She felt her perception of time grind to a halt as her finger made its way to the trigger, thumb flicking off the safety. She breathed in, deep, and let it out in a shout, her helmet speakers' volume maxed out to full shout-over-artillery volume-
"GET DOWN!"
Then her finger stroked the trigger stud, sending a Mach 7.8 shard of tungsten wrapped around an explosive core on its way with a boom more fit to coming from a 20th century artillery piece than any handheld weapon had any right to possess.
As the truck undoubtedly slid to a stop from all of the projectiles hitting it, if it wasn't already reduced to a pile of rubble, Phonos dashed up to the truck at his top speed of 60 MPH and tore the remains of the passenger door off its hinges and tossed it aside like a banana peel. If there were any survivors, went to town on them in the enclosed space, using his enhanced strength and metal claws to rip through any obstructions and using the blunted side of his hand to "back-fist" his enemies unconscious (which would normally be a very bad idea for a humanoid individual, but when you're wearing an exoskeleton that can lift 1000 pounds, you can get away with it).
Several gunmen were knocked out instantly, and they were thrown about the interior of the truck. A handful of gunmen, though, were able to tumble out of the back of the truck before Phonos could pay attention to them.
At first, they stood up: drenched from both sweat and the spray of the fire hydrant, eyes defiant, hands picking up their weapons. They were clearly prepared to make their last stand here. And then...
Tonnere!
A sudden jolt of lightning surged through the remaining gunmen. They shook, convulsed, and dropped their weapons.
"Please surrender immediately, or we will shoot." says a young voice from above. The gunmen obeyed, dropping to their knees and raising their hands to the sky. A few MPs have already appeared at the scene.
If the PCs were to look up, they would see two young girls wearing what appear to be propeller engines strapped to their legs, approaching quickly.
A few of them cursed the PCs under their breaths, but for the most part, the captured gunmen stayed complaint.
Soon enough, several MPs came outside and started zip-tying the suspects there, before going off to zip-tie the gunmen who had fallen out of the escape truck.
Iowa stared at the Cassard-class. How did the Fifth World manage to get a missile shipgirl when the Abyssals prevented modern systems from working properly? Putting on her best smile so as to hide her inner thoughts, Iowa answered, "Yes, I am the USS Iowa, BB-61. Perhaps you've heard of my exploits in World War II against the Imperial Japanese Navy? Or the bombardment of North Korea during the Korean War? Or did we meet in the '80s when my sisters and I joined the 600-Ship Navy?
This next bit is just setting up in case somebody wants to get involved with the shenanigans, because we could all use a little more humor in our lives.
On the way back to her, however, one of Iowa's injured marines uttered the two words in the military that make anyone else panic:
"I'm bored."
"Ah, that's right! Please excuse my manners, ma'am!" she said, straightening her back and snapping a salute at her. "FEN Thiassi, at your service, Ma'am! I've served in my previous life as a ship in the famed Aegir Fleet (also known as the "Invincible Fleet") of the Federal Erusian Navy, before being sunk in harbour by ISAF Fighters in The Attack on Comberth Harbor during The Second Usean Continental War, Ma'am!"
After a few seconds, she slowly lowered her salute. "Well, this is the first time I've heard any of those wars, but it all sounds really impressive, Ma'am!" she said to her.
I'm unsure as to how to follow up with the marines being bored, though I obviously want to see shenanigans occur. What about you have the fairy marines sneak off Iowa to cause trouble around random parts of the base?
Patricia banished her wargear, returning to a dress uniform. "I have Northstars full specs and some experience with sapient AI. Actually if you're going to have access to a machine shop, I had some ideas to upgrade her we discussed, but that's obviously AFTER we get the fires out and repairs complete and we can discuss informed consent with her, no?"
"Ah, yes, that would be excellent." the blonde girl with glasses said, fitting the clipboard she was holding under her left arm in order to hold out her right arm for a handshake.
"My name is Flying Officer Ursula Hartmann, of the Neue Karlsland Technisch Ministerium, and embedded researcher at this Base. It is very nice to meet you Pvt. Von Rohr. If you truly do possess the technical knowledge I've read about, then I suspect you won't be staying a Private much longer."
Phonos picked up and put on his combat helmet (lowering the opacity on the visor), and disembarked from the truck, only to find...what.
The kid (Stephen, he thought his name was?) was weird, but this?! This girl couldn't have been older than fourteen, and yet she was working as a field medic for an army base! WITHOUT PANTS?! Quickly turning his screen off to avoid further revealing his emotional state, he simply said, "Sorry, I don't really have any medical experience." Then he watched Synn walk off to go help the wounded.
Wait a minute...animal ears? Checking his trusty Terranet connection once again, he found that the girl matched with Strike Witches, a Japanese anime from about 50 years ago about...attractive female magicians during World War II fighting aliens and going into battle with jet engines on their legs, grew animal ears whenever they used magic, and didn't wear pants. And they called themselves pilots. He resisted the urge to facepalm. This was ridiculous, and back home his best friend was an amorphous alien blob in a mechanical body!
"So..." he looked to the others on either side of him, as well as the Pilot Officer, saying, "What now? Do we wait for our COs or what?"
"Well, we won't get to know who's your COs until we can get a certain annoying ass to look at her phone. C'mon people, for now let's gather 'round..."
For those PCs who were not going hunting with stragglers along with Eileen the Crow, Officer Hartmann would gather the rest of the PCs together and march them towards the garage, where NorthStar was being repaired.
Pvt. Von Rohr and the other Officer Hartmann (the one with the glasses, not the one wearing black) were engaged in conversation at NorthStar's repair bat (or somewhere in the vicinity of it, at least), In the Base Garage.
Ursula Hartmann, normally a very reserved young lady, suddenly became very interested in NorthStar's inner workings. In fact, there was distinct sense that she would take apart the entire Titan and look at each piece under a microscope if matters such as "consent" and "ethics" were less of a concern.
She was an expert in the science of Magic. While conversing about matters of science and engineering though, it was clear that while she was very proficient in the subject, it was only up until Cold War era levels. She has less familiarity with more modern tech (i.e. Network Computing) though, and would probably be completely lost if you tried to discuss future tech with her. Nevertheless, like a true scientist, she was intensely curious and would bombard Patricia with questions about NorthStar's tech and her tech and how they work.
I'm not the greatest writer when it comes to technobabble, so I'll leave most of the technical dialogue concerning NorthStar's repair and potential upgrades up to you.
Meanwhile, those who were neither hunting down stragglers nor involved in any repairs just sat (on folding chairs, stools, boxes, or even the floor) in the garage, just outside the bay where NorthStar was being repaired. No use taking up space in the Base Clinic, when their only grievously-injured member was being repaired like a tank or aircraft. They were joined with four young ladies with no pants (one girl seemed to wear pants, but closer inspection would reveal that they were, in fact, a type of opaque pantyhose instead)
As the PCs were sitting, a young woman with a no-nonsense look on her face came up to stand in front of them.
"Alright, listen up! For those of you who are new, my name is Flight Lieutenant Gertrud Barkhorn, and if God has chosen to smile upon you today..."
"That is, if God wants you to suffer." interjected a tan young woman.
"... then he will have made you join my Platoon: 7th Platoon!"
"And if God decides that you guys and girls still deserve some joy in their lives, then he'll assign you to me, Waltrud Krupinski!" the tan-skinned woman with the hat said to them, holding out her arms like she was ready to embrace them.
"Oh, um, Kripinski-dono is the assigned head of The 6th Legion Platoon." Hikari helpfully interjected.
"Joy? Ha! More like laziness. I'll make my Platoon the best, most disciplined Legion Platoon there ever was!" Barkhorn retorted. "The only things they'll learn from you is how to sweet talk others into avoiding trouble!"
Barkhorn looked back-and-forth at the PCs seated or standing before her. "If you're already a part of my Platoon, then you should know. Make sure to familiarise yourselves with the newcomers."
"And if you get assigned to me, then make sure you get familiar with me quick! My goal in life is to become familiar with as many cute boys and girls as possible!" Kripinski said, wriggling her fingers while grinning like an idiot.
"The only parts you want to be familiar with are-..."
Hartmann playfully rolled her eyes as the two Witches argued. She called out the names of the new arrivals, and to what CO they've been assigned.
"Aaand that's pretty much it!" Hartmann said, as she put away the clipboard. "Enjoy your lives, guys!"
"... This world is doomed." Barkhorn commented.
After that, a couple more girls stepped forward.
It was those tank-riding girls some of the PCs had met earlier, now trailed by a few more additions. It turns out their tank was being serviced at the repair bay next to NorthStar's.
Their brunette leader gave the closest PC a clear plastic package that was closed by a ribbon. Inside was a morass of treats consisting of potato chips, chocolates, candy, and soft drinks.
The PC she hands it to is the first Player who writes about receiving it.
"Here, this is for all of you. We heard about what happened to two of your fellows." she said to them.
"We are at war, but a death is tragic all the same. We hope this gift might alleviate your spirits somewhat." the girl with long black hair said, holding a hand to her heart.
"And by the way..." the orange-haired one said, in a gossipy tone, leaning forward and lowering her voics so that it would be harder to overhear. "There's also a nice-looking bottle of beer in there for the grown-ups. We didn't put it there at first, but the bottle in that package came from a friend of ours, who got it from a CO of his who got it from some crazy pilot guys calling themselves 'Ghostrider'. Those guys snuck in a several cratefuls of alcohol in their planes! And then they convinced the ground crew to be their distributor with some of the very same alcohol that they snuck in! So if you want to thank anybody, then there's your man!"
In a more normal voice, their leader continued. "Just think of it as a welcoming gift, from one member of this army to another."
"That's right, we're all in this together now!" the other brunette with the fluffy hair winked at them.
"Also, please don't tell anybody else about this..." the sleepy-looking girl added. She yawned like a crocodile. "Night guard duty is such a pain. Any more and I might fall sleep asleep forever..."
Eyes blinking, Barkhorn opened her mouth to say something about the massive amount of alcohol that had apparently just been snuck in under the noses of base security, when she fell silent.
In fact, both the COs and the tank girls fell silent when they saw the new arrival that walked up to them.
It was a cow.
The cow gave most of the females around it (or rather, their chests) an appreciative look, before mooing.
"Ah, yes, that would be excellent." the blonde girl with glasses said, fitting the clipboard she was holding under her left arm in order to hold out her right arm for a handshake.
"My name is Flying Officer Ursula Hartmann, of the Neue Karlsland Technisch Ministerium, and embedded researcher at this Base. It is very nice to meet you Pvt. Von Rohr. If you truly do possess the technical knowledge I've read about, then I suspect you won't be staying a Private much longer."
Pvt. Von Rohr and the other Officer Hartmann (the one with the glasses, not the one wearing black) were engaged in conversation at NorthStar's repair bat (or somewhere in the vicinity of it, at least), In the Base Garage.
Ursula Hartmann, normally a very reserved young lady, suddenly became very interested in NorthStar's inner workings. In fact, there was distinct sense that she would take apart the entire Titan and look at each piece under a microscope if matters such as "consent" and "ethics" were less of a concern.
She was an expert in the science of Magic. While conversing about matters of science and engineering though, it was clear that while she was very proficient in the subject, it was only up until Cold War era levels. She has less familiarity with more modern tech (i.e. Network Computing) though, and would probably be completely lost if you tried to discuss future tech with her. Nevertheless, like a true scientist, she was intensely curious and would bombard Patricia with questions about NorthStar's tech and her tech and how they work.
Tukosn quickly removed the knife's sheath from the body he was leaning against before getting up and following his comrades out of the burning building. He slipped the blade into its sheath and shoved it into his left pocket. When the group arrived at outside the rapair bay, he sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. He could easily hear the sounds of the repairs going on to the Titan who had saved his life during the fight. When the CO's introduced the new guys, he listened appreciatively, though he was still berating himself internally for his poor performance.
It was those tank-riding girls some of the PCs had met earlier, now trailed by a few more additions. It turns out their tank was being serviced at the repair bay next to NorthStar's.
Their brunette leader gave the closest PC a clear plastic package that was closed by a ribbon. Inside was a morass of treats consisting of potato chips, chocolates, candy, and soft drinks.
"Here, this is for all of you. We heard about what happened to two of your fellows." she said to them.
"We are at war, but a death is tragic all the same. We hope this gift might alleviate your spirits somewhat." the girl with long black hair said, holding a hand to her heart.
"And by the way..." the orange-haired one said, in a gossipy tone, leaning forward and lowering her voics so that it would be harder to overhear. "There's also a nice-looking bottle of beer in there for the grown-ups. We didn't put it there at first, but the bottle in that package came from a friend of ours, who got it from a CO of his who got it from some crazy pilot guys calling themselves 'Ghostrider'. Those guys snuck in a several cratefuls of alcohol in their planes! And then they convinced the ground crew to be their distributor with some of the very same alcohol that they snuck in! So if you want to thank anybody, then there's your man!"
In a more normal voice, their leader continued. "Just think of it as a welcoming gift, from one member of this army to another."
"That's right, we're all in this together now!" the other brunette with the fluffy hair winked at them.
"Also, please don't tell anybody else about this..." the sleepy-looking girl added. She yawned like a crocodile. "Night guard duty is such a pain. Any more and I might fall sleep asleep forever..."
Eyes blinking, Barkhorn opened her mouth to say something about the massive amount of alcohol that had apparently just been snuck in under the noses of base security, when she fell silent.
Tukson stood back up when the group of girls approached. They offered what looked to be a goodie bag, which he took. "Thank you." He said with a smile. Tukson then turned back to the group at large. "Well, it looks like these lovely young ladies have offered us a gift of potato chips, candy and fizzy drinks. Who's hungry?"
After the blue light faded from the twentieth body, Bahzell stood up, slowly, sheer exhaustion writ across his every feature. He knew the signs, and the semi-drunken euphoria of successful mass healing had set in. While he could have healed two or three more people if need be, there were more than enough other healers present that he felt no pressing need to knock himself unconscious to spare a man some discomfort.
He leaned on his sword, pressing the point into the ground, and closed his eyes.
Deep within himself, he set himself to the task of returning the Rage to its cage within his mind. Slaked, it put up but token resistance to the chains he put about it.
Those of you with eyes to see and paying attention will notice the magic field near Bahzell slowly return to normal, minus the minor draw that fuels his inhuman endurance and recovery.
That is to say, the Rage is chained again, and isn't shredding every piece of magic that comes within reach.
The Rage safely caged, he walked over to Tukson, and dropped down beside him.
"So, lad. Are ye after wanting to talk about the battle? If you're not wishful to speak of it, then we won't. But it's thinking I am that every man is believing he did far worse than he really did in his first fight, even if he's not after wanting to hear it."
As an afterthought, he tapped the knife Tukson had pilfered.
"The steel is sound enough, even if the hand that carries it is unpracticed."
"Ah, that's right! Please excuse my manners, ma'am!" she said, straightening her back and snapping a salute at her. "FEN Thiassi, at your service, Ma'am! I've served in my previous life as a ship in the famed Aegir Fleet (also known as the "Invincible Fleet") of the Federal Erusian Navy, before being sunk in harbour by ISAF Fighters in The Attack on Comberth Harbor during The Second Usean Continental War, Ma'am!"
After a few seconds, she slowly lowered her salute. "Well, this is the first time I've heard any of those wars, but it all sounds really impressive, Ma'am!" she said to her.
I'm unsure as to how to follow up with the marines being bored, though I obviously want to see shenanigans occur. What about you have the fairy marines sneak off Iowa to cause trouble around random parts of the base?
Iowa did an internet search on the FEN Thiassi, since there were only two Cassards she knew of. The results reminded her of a particular carrier conversion.
"So you're from the Ace Combat universe? Ace Combat, because you probably don't know much of my home universe, is a videogame that a friend of mine enjoys a lot. So much so, that she's taken to dubbing herself Razgriz. Course, that's when she isn't eating out the food supply or cooling her best friend's rage."
The marines were planned as a plot hook. You or anyone can write about it, I just wrote the beginning like the start of a D&D campaign.
The Rage safely caged, he walked over to Tukson, and dropped down beside him.
"So, lad. Are ye after wanting to talk about the battle? If you're not wishful to speak of it, then we won't. But it's thinking I am that every man is believing he did far worse than he really did in his first fight, even if he's not after wanting to hear it."
As an afterthought, he tapped the knife Tukson had pilfered.
"The steel is sound enough, even if the hand that carries it is unpracticed."
"I just feel so useless. During that firefight, I did nothing. I managed to get my hands on a gun, and the first thing I did was drop it. I would have been dead without the Titan in there." Tukson jerked a thumb back at the repair shop behind him. "And I'm not even going to get into my attempted abduction. I tried my fucking hardest, and I failed! I did jack shit during that fight! Even you, with no ranged weaponry, did more than me." Tukson slumped even further against the wall.
With the deed done, Synn smiled. It was time to get out of there. Though... she paused as she refocused and got her bearings, hearing a couple of medics complaining about her newest ally about... radiation?! Did she just hear that correctly? Oh for the love of all that is holy and sacred in the infinite universes...
"Look, I appreciate that you gave a hand but how about you make sure we have a way of undoing damage of this type before trying this, next time? If they didn't have anti-rad, you would have pretty much just traded a lethal injury for another lethal injury... and in particular, would have given a death sentence to those who weren't in a critical stage!"
Like, duh. Common sense. What would he have done if the Legion didn't have anti-rad meds? Probably smiled and then shrugged like an idiot. Hopefully, he'll think more carefully before doing that kind of nonsense again. This is the kind of nonsense that kills on the battlefield. And she do intend to survive more than a couple of hours on active duty, thank you very much.
Anyway...
She decided not to hold it against him for now (not her business to do so) and to walk out. Her duty here is done and her new COs are probably waiting for her and the other recruits by now.
And well, who would have thought? Here came those who would likely be her new COs!
She crossed her arms and listened as the COs seemed almost to argue with one another more than they were explaining anything. She did not comment upon it ; while she was usually one for being sassy and teasing, she knew that being so right after meeting them might give them the wrong impression regarding who she is and give everyone a bad first impression overall. So instead, she simply smirked and waited patiently. Thankfully, beneath the apparent chaos, the group seemed to actually be going somewhere with that.
She was also amused by the comment about meeting cute boys and girls. This was a girl who definitely knew what she wanted, something that she definitely could approve of. Though she hoped that she was more legal than she looked. Probably is, given she is part of an army after all.
Aaaaand it seems she is assigned to the fun girl. Well, seems Karma has decided to be funny this fine day.
Despite the pessimism of that CO, Synn was actually in fairly high spirits. She had definitely seen worse bases around, to say the truth, and less competent-looking COs. She had witnessed no field executions and that tank over there didn't seem to be made mostly of duct tape while running on a mix of dubious second hand fuels and prayers. As for the other forces... well, she would need to see how they do under pressure.
She had seen professional-acting soldiers break down in tears once the first bombs fell. On another hand, she had seen quirky cartoon gossiping teenagers become avatars of efficiency and heroism on the battlefield, overcoming nigh-impossible odds with flair and flawless focus. So she won't judge, again.
Then she saw a bunch of girls walk up to them. She wondered if every local forces on this world are made of younger girls. Maybe the local Humanoids age slower? They don't look like elves... maybe they're a different sub-type? Or maybe it's just how this type of Humanoid is? She'll need to hit some biology books and ask around about this later.
For now, she saw gifts being distributed and discussion about... casualties. Yeah, she have a feeling this doesn't concern her. Still, she wiped her smile off her face and straightened herself, being serious for a moment. Talks of death warranted attention and respect, after all.
... or so they did until a cow walked in. She turned around, blinked a few times... and then burst into a giggling fit like a schoolgirl, her long, prehensible tail unfolding behind her and flailing about. Either this is one hell of a weird new recruit or somebody just decided to play a practical joke upon the group.
As Rachel fired, the tires popped as easily as ballons falling on pins. The truck proceded to skid across the asphalt, before losing balance and falling on it's side, completely blocking the road in the process. The back of the truck also slammed against a fire hydrant, causing water to jet out at high pressure.
Rachel turned to look at the direction of the shot, her face sporting the least-amused look possible by a human being (and a few things that weren't quite human).
Grumbling to herself, she turned back to the truck, already aiming at the gunmen crawling out...
Several gunmen were knocked out instantly, and they were thrown about the interior of the truck. A handful of gunmen, though, were able to tumble out of the back of the truck before Phonos could pay attention to them.
At first, they stood up: drenched from both sweat and the spray of the fire hydrant, eyes defiant, hands picking up their weapons. They were clearly prepared to make their last stand here. And then...
Tonnere!
A sudden jolt of lightning surged through the remaining gunmen. They shook, convulsed, and dropped their weapons.
"Please surrender immediately, or we will shoot." says a young voice from above. The gunmen obeyed, dropping to their knees and raising their hands to the sky. A few MPs have already appeared at the scene.
If the PCs were to look up, they would see two young girls wearing what appear to be propeller engines strapped to their legs, approaching quickly.
"I just feel so useless. During that firefight, I did nothing. I managed to get my hands on a gun, and the first thing I did was drop it. I would have been dead without the Titan in there." Tukson jerked a thumb back at the repair shop behind him. "And I'm not even going to get into my attempted abduction. I tried my fucking hardest, and I failed! I did jack shit during that fight! Even you, with no ranged weaponry, did more than me." Tukson slumped even further against the wall.
Bahzell laughed. A deep, rumbling laugh, but not an unkind one.
"Is that all? You told me you're after being a shopkeeper, not a warrior or a soldier. I've been one of Himself's champions for seventy years. It's only to be expected that I'd be a mite more skilled than you. So. Let's be looking at what you were after doing. You being either untrained or so close the difference isn't after mattering, you stood your ground, didn't panic, and fought to the best of your skill."
He paused, pulling his pipe from somewhere. He stuck it in his mouth, though he didn't light it.
"Lad, there are many fully trained warriors who do worse the first time another man with a weapon is really trying to kill them. That you are unskilled? Matters not." He flicked an ear. "Anyone can be learning the skills. Few have the steel in their guts to stand firm, and not be forgetting what they know in the crucible of battle."
"Yeh're bloody well welcome, lass!" Chloe muttered, mostly to herself and partly to Rachel, knowing she wouldn't be able to hear it. Cars, after all, can continue to move, albeit slowly, with blown-out tires. It's just not good for the rims.
She slung her rifle and passed up the treats, gave the cow an appreciate look - in the sense of assessing how many steaks she could make of it - and looked up, searching for and finding an appropriate roof to post up on.
Her suit jets thrummed to life and sent her skirling up and over the roof, where she landed gracefully. "Bout time somebody stood a proper watch 'round here..."
"Look, I appreciate that you gave a hand but how about you make sure we have a way of undoing damage of this type before trying this, next time? If they didn't have anti-rad, you would have pretty much just traded a lethal injury for another lethal injury... and in particular, would have given a death sentence to those who weren't in a critical stage!"
Like, duh. Common sense. What would he have done if the Legion didn't have anti-rad meds? Probably smiled and then shrugged like an idiot. Hopefully, he'll think more carefully before doing that kind of nonsense again. This is the kind of nonsense that kills on the battlefield. And she do intend to survive more than a couple of hours on active duty, thank you very much.
Listening to Synn, Igor barely restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Taking his necklace out, he dangled it in front of the woman and looked her in the eyes.
"Listen here kitty cat, in case you haven't noticed, I've been using the Bubble here to negate most of the rads, and Zone only knows why Heart doesn't project the rads further than the immediate area, so most of the others were perfectly safe." - He took one of the last cigarettes and lighted it up.
"The one most in danger was actually me, sine I've been using my personal artifact healing them. Apart from that, the doctor woman said that they had supernatural ways of healing, so healing radiation poisoning shouldn't be too much of a problem. Plus, what army base doesn't have some anti-rad medicine somewhere? Most of the supplies in Zone came from robbed those places after all... So get off your high horse, and try to think before you say something like that." - He started to walk outside, before stopping for a moment and turning towards Synn again.
"Don't take it too personally." - He tells her, before chuckling and walking away. @Mew
"And if you get assigned to me, then make sure you get familiar with me quick! My goal in life is to become familiar with as many cute boys and girls as possible!" Kripinski said, wriggling her fingers while grinning like an idiot.
Listening to the women arguing made Igor smile and think of Lukash and Grima, the two Freedom stalkers had similar interactions with each other whenever they met. The next comment by the Krupinski woman made him chuckle a bit.
It seemed that he was then assigned to the funny woman. Looks like the life here won't be too boring.
Igor heard some weird electrical noises and some banging outside, but ignored it. It was probably people repairing things.
Their brunette leader gave the closest PC a clear plastic package that was closed by a ribbon. Inside was a morass of treats consisting of potato chips, chocolates, candy, and soft drinks.
Another four women made Igor wonder if most of the army consisted of women wearing weird outfits, but he ignored that fact.
It wasn't the weirdest thing he's ever seen, and if they are permitted to do so then he wouldn't object.
When Igor heard everyone fall silent, he turned to see what made them so. In the entrance was a cow.
Igor stared at the cigarette in his hand, and for the second time this day he wondered if his tobacco was switched with weed.
Meanwhile, those who were neither hunting down stragglers nor involved in any repairs just sat (on folding chairs, stools, boxes, or even the floor) in the garage, just outside the bay where NorthStar was being repaired. No use taking up space in the Base Clinic, when their only grievously-injured member was being repaired like a tank or aircraft. They were joined with four young ladies with no pants (one girl seemed to wear pants, but closer inspection would reveal that they were, in fact, a type of opaque pantyhose instead)
Sarge ran through the area, appearing to be looking for someone, before he spotted Patricia and ran up to her.
"Hey kid, this is an emergency! Do you know where the big blue guy and the little blue girl are? I just found evidence that they are both spies." Sarge didn't even give a moment of pause before he laid out the details of his amazing accomplishment. "During that tussle a few minutes ago I managed to get my hands on one of the bad guys." Granted, said capture involved him tripping right in front of Sarge, but details like that did not matter now. "After a good old Jack Bauer style questioning, I managed to get him to admit that this whole war was orchestrated by the Blues, and that those two were spies!" Granted, said confession was just him committing suicide right after Sarge had accused him of that, but damn it, that was an admission of guilt in Sarge's court, the only one that really mattered at the end of the day!.
Bahzell laughed. A deep, rumbling laugh, but not an unkind one.
"Is that all? You told me you're after being a shopkeeper, not a warrior or a soldier. I've been one of Himself's champions for seventy years. It's only to be expected that I'd be a mite more skilled than you. So. Let's be looking at what you were after doing. You being either untrained or so close the difference isn't after mattering, you stood your ground, didn't panic, and fought to the best of your skill."
He paused, pulling his pipe from somewhere. He stuck it in his mouth, though he didn't light it.
"Lad, there are many fully trained warriors who do worse the first time another man with a weapon is really trying to kill them. That you are unskilled? Matters not." He flicked an ear. "Anyone can be learning the skills. Few have the steel in their guts to stand firm, and not be forgetting what they know in the crucible of battle."
Tukson dug through the gift basket for a moment before pulling out a bright yellow can with a red hammer and sickle pasted on the side. "How's a Marx's Hard Leninade sound? I have no idea what it is, but it says it's 20 proof."
As Rachel walked, she dropped the rifle so it hung on it's sling, and dug around her pockets for something.
... Aha!
Triumphant, she held up her prize: a fresh cardboard packet of lollipops; Sweet Licks, her favorite.
It looks almost exactly like a pack of cigs. Right down to the highly graphic warning of what constant use can do top you, which is tooth decay in this case.
She tore of the plastic foil, opened the pack and, after turning one lolly upside down, took one and popped it into her mouth, sighing as the sugar worked its magic.
Suddenly remembering Chara, she wordlessly offered the pack to the ghost. They could use a lolly or two, she reckoned.
Ignore that if Chara decides to not follow Rachel.
[LATER]
Arriving just after what sounded like some sort of speech, Rachel walked into the hangar. With her relaxed posture, hard gaze, rifle held loosely -but not too loosely- across her front and the lollipop's stick hanging from her mouth, she was perhaps-unknowingly presenting the picture of the stereotypical veteran.
Rachel was interested in the new faces. Apparently a truck of them had arrived after the attack. One was the girl who had shot the truck, but two caught her interest.
One was a young, rather plump boy who was tripping all manner of unpleasant alarm bells with how out of his depth he looked. He just reeked of civilian, which brought forth a great number of emotions on the Operative, which could be distilled into You're not supposed to be here! I'm doing this specifically so that people like you wouldn't have top be here! What are you doing here!?
The other was a six foot tall cat thing with a fashion sense that seemed to regard pants as something that happened to other people.
I'm starting to see a theme here.
Not seeing any reason not to, Rachel waved at them, trying to catch their attention.
Tukson dug through the gift basket for a moment before pulling out a bright yellow can with a red hammer and sickle pasted on the side. "How's a Marx's Hard Leninade sound? I have no idea what it is, but it says it's 20 proof."
Synn decided that she had better things to do than listen to Igor's complaints about her own complaints. She had made her thoughts known to him, he made his own opinion of her opinion known. Better to move on from that now. After all, given the discussion on the truck, she'd rather not waste the first impression she did earlier.
She had more pressing matters. Such as what was the strangest Humanoid she had seen so far, which was saying something given the flood of seemingly underage soldiers she had met so far.
Namely, at first, her mind just refused to accept that the person before her could possibly be a child. She had that particular look, the look of someone who knew what she was doing, how to do it, and when to do it. And who shared her unsaid opinion of the panicking wannabe hero, as well. She pondered that the unknown person might actually be truly a dwarf. Or maybe a gnome? But then, looking at her features hard enough... there was a definitive feeling of youth and general proportions that indicated a child.
The other girls had already been pushing it but in this case? Were they all bio-engineered soldiers or was time flowing faster for them or something?
Still, she was the first local seemingly established soldier to wave at her or otherwise act friendly so she decided to return the favor.
She straightened herself and, smiling confidently, waved back, showing to her that her attention had definitely been caught.
Chara floated alongside Rachel, couple feet off the ground and still splattered with gore, holding onto their knife with a tight grip. Their eyes were vacant, and the edges of their mouth were curled into a dead grin, as if nobody had taught them how to smile properly but they didn't know what else to do with their facial muscles.
They took the offered lollipop, eyeing the candy with suspicion, before handing the packet back to Rachel and popping it into their mouth.
Whole.
They jolted ever so slightly, but instead of spitting it out there was a slight crease of their eyebrows as they bit down, chewed on the piece of candy and swallowed.
They did not thank Rachel, but their expression became just a slight bit less unnatural, and there was a new spark of Determination in their eye.
