Old Reminders - RPLOG
Participants
Date
Thursday November 1, 2018=Log=
The agents are gathered in Mike's chopper, long since having taken off from Zephyr HQ. The most pertinent details available in the fast-tracked Z briefing were as follows: A feral has, by some insane stroke of misfortune, acquired an active nanite server box. Zephyr has managed to triangulate the center of the bubble by measuring the perimeter. The server is highly likely to be in the middle of a previously undiscovered survivor enclave, self-isolated from the rest of the nanite ravaged world.
"Okay people, look sharp, this must be it," Mike warns: The faint sounds of distant gunfire are the first sign of the reported trouble, and the sight of a walled-off survivor enclave is the second, lit up like a beacon in the night by a rampaging fire. As the chopper gets closer, more of the horror is revealed by the senses. Screaming, the scents of smoke, the smell of blood and the underlying hints of orgiastic sex so intense it can be smelled from here. Anyone who was around at P-day is struck by the same, hideously nostalgic wave of emotions they felt on that fateful day. It's all too familiar. The tension is cut, though not deeply, by Mike's voice. "Tell me where you want to drop and hurry up about it. I have a bad feeling about this."
Edel hated walking all the way back to Zephyr just to catch a ride, but if her dear neighbor was caught up in all of this, well. She had to be a good samaritan and see what it was all about. Stroking her fingers along the string of her bow, she stares out at the approaching enclave in the distance. She was born in Fairhaven, before the nanite. It was a scenario she knew all too well. This time, though, she was prepared to face it. "I want out on the outskirts. I don't plan on going in hot."
Mike's chopper must be huge, because a towering 12-foot tall pile of armored metallic plating, solid muscle, and bony spikes like Loki absolutely dominates a huge corner of it. It wouldn't be surprising if the dragon actually had some impact on the chopper's ability to function to to his sheer density. The dragon's bronze tonge flits past his teeth as he eyes the carnage and he fights the gutteral instinct to just jump out and soar on down into the carnage. His eyes scan the scene, looking for two things - landmarks, what looks important, and safe vantage points that could be used for a retreat or holdout.
Cerris is silent for most of the ride aside from greeting those he was to be fighting along side. Dressed for both combat and to be reassuringly identifiable as sane, he plans to make his pressence here something to get things under control. For him this was both personal and political, if he was going to win over the various factions of Fairhaven he would need to show them he was a force to be relied upon.
"Let's stick together people, let's try to minimize the chaos and see if we can't come out of this smelling like roses. Be nice if we could drop a spotter and sniper further back for cover, but I'm ready to go."
So saying he pats Edel on the back and moves to the door and grasp the handle and pull ready to jump or respond as needed. He had a little girl to go rescue and damnit little girls deserve heros and rescuing.
Staring outside of the window, Phosphorus observes the scene silently. She's experiencing many, many emotions, currently - but the both her normal sort of temprament and a well-placed balaclava helps obscure this fact. Her armor proudly wears 'POLICE' printed across the front of the plate carrier, her protective helmet's face shield locked in the upwards position. She's rather properly representing the K9s, it seems. It's rare enough that she's out herself nowadays; but, desperate times, desperate measures.
The panda sighs. A cold wave of calm rolls over her. She turns to peer at the group, clasping her hands together, leaning forward on her knees, and sighing. "Alright. We have next to zero time. The catastrophe is in motion. I propose we split into two fireteams. One go help the existing survivors contain, and hopefully turn the tide, and the other head, go contain the source. Sound good?"
Fiore's eyes regard the scene unfolding in the compound off in the distance. Her eyes, used to scanning for movement in among the salvage, pick up on the sight of a few huskies going ham on a door. The shreds of cloathing tell her these might be the *recently* feral, and this makes the vixen nervous. The fire illuminated other hostiles, but Fiore couldn't determine just what they where. While this didn't confirm the roumor's she'd been told, this didn't contradict anything either.
"I'd gotten reports that the server here was stolen by the new daughter of it's owner, I'd consider her a hostile as well if I where you."
Fiore's nose picks up that *smell* through her helmet. Her ears would pin if her helmet's shape would have allowed it. They try anyway. She goes silent for a moment longer as any sense of duty or bravado leave her. "What's that smell-oh to hell with *this*... I didn't sign up for THIS." Her head looks back to the Pilot, "Mike! You're goanna have one comin back. I don't feel like pissing off my mother smelling like this. Nor did I bring what this requires... Russ will be pissed I didn't get electronic intel..... Buuuuut I think he'll understand when he sees the pictures." The vixen shrugs then, and tightens down her straps
Mike gives Fiore a broad shrug in reply. "Your call, man, but we're going to have to get closer before we get away. Uh, speaking of which, try to keep the ferals off if they get close, please." The agents lay out a plan and relay it to Mike- that is, to drop them off in the courtyard a bit away from the bulk of the action, somewhat near a barricaded building. Looks like it's some sort of barracks or other living area from the outside, but it's hard to say, especially because most markings have been torn away by the swarm of some dozen huskies trying to knock down the doors and smash boarded windows. The chopper hovers lower and lower, and with so much intense noise already present it just adds another layer to the din, only attracting the notice of some dazed, wandering ferals in half-ruined clothes, freshly transformed. They perks their ears up and start stumbling towards the vehicle, a small drop's worth above the ground. Mike nearly sounds hysterical when he shouts, "Would'ja look at that! Fresh outta time, people! Go, go, fucking go already!"
Everywhere there is smoke. Everywhere there is sex. It's hard to see too far ahead, both for the darkness and the smog. Figures move in the dark.
"I'm going after the source," Edel says as she slings the bow around her back, tail wagging behind her at the pat, though she offers little other reaction. "I have a feeling this is something of a loose end from my past come back to haunt me. I'd like to see it put to rest." The armored dog girl slides the visor down on her helmet. "Aww, don't chicken out Fiore. I'll help keep you covered as I can, and I'll vouch for you if your parents get upset. Anyway, whoever wants to come with me in pursuit, I plan on taking the quiet route of least resistance." Of course, what Fiore said confirmed her feelings.
Once she's out of the helicopter, she draws her sword and peers into the surroundings. "Have any leads, Cerris?"
"The source is likely the sudden bubble. We find the server, I can manage damage control and containment." Loki says, rolling his shoulders as he gets ready to jump out of the chopper. "Count me in, though it looks like we'll have to fight our way out. Let's see if I can't clear the way." he says.
And then he's 'gone'. The great dragon leaps out of the chopper with a mighty, ear-splitting roar. Once he's nowhere near in danger from the blades, his wings flare out and the sharp snap as they catch the wind rips through the air like a mighty crack. Even in the night, the dragon isn't hard to lose sight of - especially with all the fire going on. That gold stands out like a sore thumb. So does the fire coming out of his mouth, providing some additional illumination as the gouts of flame illuminate the darkness. The odd crack of raw lighting sure helps too.
His aim is to demoralize through a sheer display of power.
Cerris gives the stoic Red Panda a thumbs up as he listens to her speak. Making his last second preparations, he concentrates and then pings the comm units of everyone present, his internal unit bouncing off of the local server to make his telepathic connection possible. Reaching his metal hand over to his other arm he slaps a unit on his bicep, his blood collector and several other internal implants kicking into gear with a bulge and ripple of his muscles and a sudden burst of heavy masculine musk.
"I'm here for that little girl and the box. But the girl is a priority for me, I'll be heading that way with all due haste and contempt for my opposition. She might be the cause of this, but I don't turn my back on anyone that has been good to me or I've been bad to. I'll keep in contact via the comm unit, so don't be startled if you hear my voice. "
Once they stop moving he strides past Edel to place himself between the oncoming ferals and the little kill dog. His form assuming combat readiness in a manner that suddenly alters his battlefield pressence from a commanding figure to an unignorable fount of both sex and power taking advantage of Loki's distraction to move right in.
"Edel, you with me? How about a kiss for luck? I'll try and keep some of the crazies of your backs, I'll be damned if I'm gonna sneak through this situation like some kinda damn other agency spook. Looks like its time to introduce to these folks the concept of a boss wave by entering like a BAUWSS."
He knew Cookies' smell so all he needed to do was find a huskie that smelled like Cookies' pussy right? Time to put that survival training and years of hunting outside the bubble back to use.
"If you are all going hunting, I suppose I'll get this building under control." By her logic, the survivor's command structure is likely scrambled to hell, and the building is in dire need of reinforcement and securing. Ideally she'd be able to have someone cover her arse or run anti nanomagic to stem the tide of the infection, but it sounds like, y'know. They're going in loud. As soon as the helicopter touches down, she's off and into the, black shotgun in hand and a mission in her eyes. She tries to assess the state of the inside as she makes a beeline for the front door; she'll ask who's in command later, or if anyone even IS, but first the holes need to be patched and chaos brought under control. Priorities.
Fiore nods to Mike in return, pulling her Uzi from her chest rig and strapping herself to the chopper to act as some sort of door gunner while everyone else piles out of the helo. As soon as door opens, She fires a few bursts at the ferals to give them covering fire. Fiore tries aiming for the knees because she's learned trying to kill them outright took way more time and lead then she had on hand, and they only needed to be slowed down long enough for Mike to lift off again.
"Mike after this I think you should ask for a Gunship for Christas." Fifi says as she fires another burst out of the door.
Fiore leans back into chopper as soon as Phos is out, reloading and waiting to see if Mike's clear to lift off before leaning out again and dumping an entire mag at the ferals just to make sure.
The display Loki puts on doesn't quite manage to do more than turn the snarling, snapping heads of some huskies for a brief moment, though the ones that were moving towards the chopper and the other agents come to a skidding halt and turn right on around, tails between their legs. It's more than enough to buy Cerris the extra time he needs to catch onto a scent that he only barely manages to pluck out of the plethora smells assailing his keen senses, and it isn't QUITE the smell of Cookies, but... No, there's something unmistakably Cookieslike on the wind and it's coming from the far end of the courtyard, opposite from what everyone now realizes is the flame-wreathed gate in and out of the enclave's perimeter walls. Mike is already lifting off with Fiore and getting the hell out of dodge.
At that far end lies a building that looks as though the whole place was built around it, four square walls of scrap steel with a domed roof, heavily fortified from all positions. Except for the fact that the huge, otherwise intimidatingly strongly built door is ajar. And slightly splattered with fluids of both violent and sexual origin.
Even with the panda's eagle eyes, Phosphorus lacks the X-ray vision currently required to see past the mass of huskies prying at the windows... until a gunshot rings out and one of the ferals is thrown backwards from the window into a small pile of howling, wounded huskies adding to the cacophany of the enclave, being cuddled and licked and otherwise 'tended to' by their more well-meaning comrades, some of the few not actually causing trouble. The less bold huskies start to scatter and find other things to trash or fuck, though Phosphorus' direct path to the barracks door is still blocked by two of the musclebound anthros, who turn their head towards her and hesitate, staring like deer in headlights for the long moment it takes for them to decide she's their new object of desire.
