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Aberrant: Dead Rising - Chapter 12f: Chewy on the Outside


Dawn OOC

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They got everyone settled for the night, each group providing their own security. Gabrielle returned to find her crew a bit tense from all the watchfulness, but none were so tense as Caleb and Jacobs. Both men were clearly on high alert, in direct comparison to Jack, who merely seemed tired. “They’ve been at it all night,” he hissed dramatically to Gabrielle.

“We need to make sure the group is safe,” Jacobs pointed out.

Caleb shut his mouth and cut off whatever he was going to say. It was, from the dark look on his face, exactly what Jacobs had been about to say.

George found his group in a little better shape; while tense, they were a little less wound up than Gabby’s guardians. Cherry had walked over with them, but Colin had insisted that she not stay. With a last smile at George, she left, going back to her enclave for the evening.

Click to reveal..
I am leaving this open for RP, if you wish, otherwise, I’ll edit to move it right into the next morning.
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Gabrielle let out a soft sigh, trying not to be too irritated with the two of them. She favored Jack with a slight smile and motioned all three of them towards the RV that housed their cooking station and most of their food, "Why don't we see what we can share with George's people? Mingle a little, perhaps? He seems like a nice person and it sounds like his group has been on the move pretty much since Z-day. They could probably use some good cheer."

Both Jacobs and Caleb started to speak, no doubt to volunteer themselves out for guard duty instead. Gabrielle held up a hand before either of them got more than a syllable out. "We're safe for the evening and the three of you are off-duty for the rest of the night. Not. Negotiable. You've been tripping over each other ever since Jacobs came on board with us and it's time you spent some time together where you weren't competing. We're going to go over to George's group and we're going to relax with them. We're in a safe area - fine, a relatively safe area - let's take advantage of that."

Both of them still look like they wanted to argue the point, but a fierce look from their usually mild leader silenced both of them, for the moment. Jack, on the other hand, looked thrilled with the prospect of a new audience and watching the farm boy and the mercenary struggle to look relaxed for the evening. Word was passed around to the dozen people of Gabrielle's expedition and the group approached George's enclave with hot food, some treats looted from a Target on the way to Columbia, and friendly smiles.

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George strolled back to his people, now reunited, since Jeremy had been brought from the infirmary to be near his own family. He actually looked much better, but Jeremy's wife wasn't looking so happy to see George nearby.

With a smile and a small sigh, George gave his old friend a fist bump, then started on a walk through to look at the rest of them. It wasn't so much that he knew what to look for, as that Neiermeier had told him it would make them feel like he cared about them, and they would care about looking good for him, and that would help moral.

As he strolled along, Officer Holynasty fell in beside him.

"The Sergeant went looking for you, sir," Holynasty said in a hushed tone. "I signaled him to let him know you got back."

"Good job, Ehmeff," George replied. The poor kid seemed to have the worst Ukranian name possible in the English speaking world. "Any problems?"

"The three Babushkas were complaining about everything, just like they always do, sir."

"What else is new?" George asked rhetorically, as he spotted the three old ladies that were all that was left of that generation of Aylmerites. The only things those three women seemed to have in common were age and gender. All three of them were well into their eighties. While none of them was as ornery as old Mrs. Fritsch had been (George still couldn't believe zombies had been able to take her down), Elke Milner--the tall, cool, whip thin one approaching from his left--and Svitlana Kolodiy--the round one dressed in mourning black with the eyes that sparkled when someone lit her short fuse who happened to be approaching from his right--came close. Georgia Rasidakis, however was another story. She was generally as calm as could be, unless she thought someone tried to leave one of her two surviving grand children out of anything, in which case she was the worst of the bunch. Since she could kindly be described as slowest of the bunch, calming her down again could be a chore. Darwin help anyone who managed to earn the fury of all three of those women at once.

Fortunately, Milner Tante and Babushka Kolodiy each saw the other coming, and got too distracted glaring at each other to actually talk to George. He ducked between them with a few pleasant words, and Ehmeff followed, quick as a shadow.

The place Cherry's people had found the Aylmerites looked like it had once been a building full of small lecture rooms with extra wide hallways to accommodate streams of students between classes. It certainly reminded George of his undergrad years. He could see some of the lines that had been put up, with hangings to provide the scant illusion of privacy between one family and the next. George bottled up that anger for now. He'd found there had been plenty of times he'd been able to release his anger and frustration so far, there was no point showing it to the people whose hardship was causing it; they'd only feel like it was a failing in themselves, which it wasn't. These were good people, all of them.

"Neiermeier had you set up guard rotations, MF?" George asked the officer who had quickly fallen in step again. A farmer checking on his family saw George coming, and held a salute almost as good as the one the officers gave. That, too, set his teeth grinding. Military and law enforcement acting that way was one thing--those people had signed up for something resembling that kind of discipline--farmers and mechanics doing that was something else. Unfortunately, with the painfully few hale men left, and the inability of anyone to grow crops anymore, it seemed they had to find a new way to feel like they were contributing.

"Yes, sir," Ehmeff replied. "Two officers and two farmers at every door. Rotate in pairs of one officer and one farmer." Ehmeff hesitated for a moment, frowning, before continuing with a note of concern "None of them are going to get much sleep, sir."

"I know, Ehmeff. Can't be helped. We almost lost Jeremy because we weren't watching each other as closely as we needed to with that black devil bastard. We're not going to lose anyone else if we can help it." Everyone was suddenly looking at them--no, at him, and George realized he had slammed his right fist into his left hand, and the sound had caused a loud cracking sound to travel up and down the hallway. Mrs. Rasidakis poked her head out of one of the rooms, frowned for two moments, then gave him a shushing gesture before her head disappeared again.

George lowered his voice again, "Hopefully tomorrow morning, we'll be able to take care of that problem too. It's all we can do, though. Take them out one at a time."

Click to reveal..

I'm fine with playing out the night or moving on to the morning, whichever it ends up being.

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The groups mingled well that evening. Jack pulled out his guitar and provided the entertainment; various people combined their talents to produce the meal. It was a pleasant time, and the two groups had no trouble forging the first tentative bonds of friendship.

The morning came too soon. Gabrielle, despite keeping watch all night, was ready for her fly-over of Columbia and specifically the armory. She brought back reports that there were three clusters of zombies in the city. One was around MU’s outside fence, which they were expecting her to find. One was around one of the factories on the northeast side of town, which bore some exploration for later. And one was around the armory, exactly as they had suspected it would be.

“He could have some of his own people up there,” Jacobs pointed out as they stared at the map that Gabrielle had marked. “He operates out of the armory, but his main group is up there.”

“That could be his range.” Caleb looked grim as he mused.

“Yep,” Jacobs agreed, just barely keeping the ‘well, duh’ undertext out of his tone. “Regardless, the armory is where he was supposed to be, right?”

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She frowned. "I don't know. I think the factory is worth looking into. They've already checked the armory once and it may just be a drop point for him. It's....obvious. Even if that's not him, there might be a group trapped there that has had enough supplies to live on for a while. Either way, I think we should start there and look at the armory afterwards."

She glanced at the others and shrugged, "That's just my thought. I don't think we should split up, though, so if everyone else wants to take the armory first, then we should that."

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"We don't have enough information," George said, glancing to Neiermeier who was shaking his head at what Gabrielle had just said. Looking back to Gabrielle and her followers, he tossed in a shrug of his own. "Concentration of strength. We should probably only take some of our fighters, though. I'm certainly the one most likely to survive anything particularly nasty, so I should probably take point."

A brief expression of disapproval ran across Neiermeier's face as he settled his broad-brimmed hat back on his head, but it was gone by the time he started absent-mindedly brushing the dandruff off his shoulders.

"I figure we'll leave our militia forces here, to guard our locals, and take our ex-police, some of whom have at least had some training in hostile urban situations." Then George's shoulders tensed for a moment, before relaxing as he let out a long sigh. "We also don't have much in the way of heavy firepower, if we are attacked by a large group. Shotguns and hunting rifles pretty much cover it. I'm hoping the lot of you might have something a touch better, eh?" George tilted his head, with a pleading smile.

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"I like the factory better," Jacobs said, tapping the map to emphasize his choice. "They won't be expecting it, or they'll be allies. It's possible that these people are being attacked as much as you. Has your thief stolen enough for another enclave?"

"Yes," Jackie answered brusquely. "It would explain much, why the stolen items seemed so random. They were someone's shopping list."

"We're armed much the same as you," a slim man with glasses said with a thick Eastern European accent. He'd been introduced as Jiri; when George had named himself, the man had laughed and explained that at home, Jiri was George. Rushing Mountain liked him: he was quiet until he spoke, and when he spoke it was also something useful to the conversation. He was the Columbia group's quartermaster and seemed to know their inventory down to the nail.

Jacobs nodded. "And we like you. Anyone know if they National Guard Armory on the north side of town was hit?"

"Not by us," Jackie said, "but I'd be shocked if it wasn't."

"Sounds like it's worth a shot to me," Caleb said, looking to Gabrielle.

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She nodded. "Alright, why don't we start with the Armory, then head to the factory? We can regroup and decide what to do next from there. I think we should those with us that have experience hunting and tracking. And we have to remember to make pairs again if we split any up."

"Why don't we all talk to our respective peoples, get volunteers, and then meet back here in forty-five minutes? I'd suggest people bring along satchels or sacks as well. We'll be going out into the city anyways, so grabbing supplies can be a secondary objective." The angel bit back a small smile; it was starting to show how much time she spent with Caleb and Jacobs. She'd never even heard other people talk like that outside of some of those awful military movies her father used to play at home.

Her momentary light mood tempered a little by the reminder of why they were in Columbia in the first place, Gabrielle nodded to the other leaders, "Shall we?"

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The frown left on his face showed that George wasn't really happy with Jiri's response, but in the grand tradition of his farmer ancestors, he shrugged. "You work with what you've got. Neiermeier, keep Ehmeff and one of the other seniors back to co-ordinate our homeguard. Everybody else rolls in full armour."

A contemplative look came across George's face. "Have you got a chemistry department on campus? If so, do you have any bars of Magnesium? Or any portable spotlights and generators? I want this slimy little devil, so I don't want it to be easy for him to hide. If you don't know, and it'll take more than five minutes to find out, don't worry about it for now, but it would be good to know for next time."

"Oh, we should also do a quick test to make sure everyone's healthy before we roll. Will we be ready in fifteen minutes, Neiermeier?"

If anything, Neiermeier's posture stiffened. "I reckon we'll be ready in ten, sir." George nodded to him, and Neiermeier left to get the troops ready.

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Jiri spoke up. "We have ten bars of Magnesium still stored over in Chemistry, and we have twelve Mag lights that will make people in space wonder what that bright light is."

"Gabrielle, can you do the honors of checking those who are going?" Jacobs asked. Jack smiled and stepped forward to be first as around them, the bustle increasing as men readied themselves for modern war. Gabrielle performed the blood test, but did it the old-fashioned way, using a sharp (the instrument used in hospitals to draw blood). Everyone checked to be sure that their buddy got tested.

The drive out to the armory wasn't uneventful; they had zombies swarming them anytime they slowed down, and there were several roadblocks that needed to be cleared. Gabrielle gave them air support so they avoided several more blocks. But the drive also wasn't bad; zombies were a part of life now, and the group cleared the swarms around them.

The armory sat isolated on an access road off Highway 63. The rotten remains of more than soldier lay around the building, but they were the truly dead. The doors on the building were blasted open; those who knew such things guessed it was from the inside. The building was dark inside and eeriely silent. The large garage was more promising; it had several vehicles still parked inside, though the fuel was long gone.

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  • 2 weeks later...

With one of the Maglites in his hand and raised above his head, George walked into the garage. Neiermeier kept with the vehicles with three other officers, forming a security perimeter for their vehicles, while Steven Emrich and the other three surviving junior officers took positions by the garage doors, two on each side. All of the officers were wearing bulletproof vests, and each of the officers by the garage doors had a Maglite mounted on the barrels of their rifles or shotguns. It was awkward, but these days, everybody was afraid of the dark.

George quickly looked over the vehicles, shining the light inside each one, then went through and started examining them a little more thoroughly, ensuring no bodies--living or dead--had a prayer of being able to hide, and later sneak up behind them. The police officers didn't say a word, but used military sign language to communicate silently, despite the dim light. Neiermeier had lectured them on the way about making sure to communicate, and to look up and down as much as side to side.

On the third vehicle, George talked "I'm not finding anyone here, Steve, but these vehicles look pretty good. We might want to check them out to see if they're good upgrades." He paused for a moment after checking the third vehicle, then sighed, and walked to the interior door of the garage, and tried the light switch next to it.

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The lights remained out, casting a dark pall across the room. There was no noise until a handful of pigeons burst into motion with a flutter of wings. One of the officers nearly shot at them, but contained his trigger finger in time.

"It's clear," Neiermeier called out loud, glancing around as the men relaxed a little. "Two of you, stay on that door." He pointed at the door that led from the garage into the building. A couple of guys hopped to do so as George lifted up his radio. "Gabrielle, Jacobs, how's it look out there?"

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  • 1 month later...

"I can't see anything else here." Her voice crackled over the radio, "Why don't I scout ahead towards the 3M building and everyone get headed in that direction? We can tell the Columbia enclave about the resources here once we get back."

Fitting word to action, she took a running leap off the top of the armory and caught an updraft. Learning to fly hadn't been easy and had completely changed how she viewed the world. Air was no long just some invisible medium she existed in; it moved and flowed and tumbled all around her and if she wasn't careful it could rip her a half mile up into the sky or dump her unceremoniously into the nearest solid object. She smiled, though. Like all things in her life since the Apocalypse, it was tribulation and she would do her best to prove herself worthy.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Alright guys, don't get too close. We don't need anyone else getting hurt." With that, George pulled out a Maglite, which he turned on, and tucked under his armpit, so that he could pull a magnesium bar from the satchel he was carrying. "If things get interesting, just keep yourselves safe," he commanded as he zipped up the satchel again.

With that, he tried to open the door in the conventional way. Finding the door was locked, George held the Maglite in his left hand, and used the magnesium bar to break off the door handle, causing bright flashes with each hit as the metal door knob scratched the bar, exposing unoxidized magnesium for a few seconds.

Once the door knob was bashed off, he used the bar to push the door knob on the opposite side of the door out, then reached in and tried to tug back the door's latch assembly.

With a final grunt and a low punch, the door flew open.

He shone his Maglite around inside, as he said into his radio "In the door."

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Someone had tried to build a sanctuary in the room, but had failed to come back for it. It was a sad testiment to the failure of human tenacity; foodstuffs, all of them non-perishable, were scattered around the room in piles. Clothing and ammunition were around, all of it either .223 Remington or 9mm. There was a layer of dust on everything.

The rooms beyond were sleeping rooms, but whomever had been here was gone now. George tried not to think about what their fate had been. Had they been alive, someone would have come back for this stuff. It was a gold mine in this world.

That sidetracked things a little; they were distracted by the stash. As they finished, Neiermeier was looking at the floor of the garage, frowning at the floor. "I think someone's been using this place for storage."

"They didn't even bother to bust down the door," George said.

"Wonder if someone knew it was there and wasn't telling someone else," Neiermeier pointed out.

George nodded, feeling a little better about the stash and raiding it. Gabrielle rejoined them and the group headed for the 3M factory.

The drive was uneventful and they pulled up short to plan. "We could approach like travelers," Caleb suggested. "Gain their trust and see the situation inside."

"Possible," Jacobs mused. "We don't know if they're combatants or what the situation inside the building is. Could be the dude and a bunch of children."

"We could try to sneak in," Neiermeier said. "Gabrielle, can you get us all on the roof, one at a time? Most people wouldn't think to secure that access point."

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  • 2 weeks later...

With a look of stony consternation, George turned to Neiermeier. "I don't think sneaking in is a good idea," he growled. If we approach and someone is armed, and they talk to us, that's one thing. If we sneak in, and attack them from the inside, we're no better than that demon that's been attacking us by infecting people."

Neiermeier's people darted quick looks at their leaders and each other, then began keeping an especially vigilant watch on their surroundings, while Neiermeier himself made a startling transformation, his lips going thin, and his face and ears turning beet red for a few seconds, then, just as remarkably, clearing up again as a slight smile came to his lips. He gave George a quick nod before speaking in a relaxed but somehow still formal manner. "Alright, that might've been aggressive, sir. But I would it might be worth it for a small team to do a quick recon. The way we came to this town all fat and happy, we were lucky we met the people we did. We could've been sitting ducks."

George thought through what his NCO had said, then nodded. "Gabrielle, do you think you could airlift some people, or is that beyond your capabilities?" He glanced at her people, trying to gauge their reactions to this idea.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The angel shook her head, "No, sorry. I don't fly like the others do...just levitating, you know? I still have to follow some of the laws of physics. That, and I'm not all that strong."

She shook her head, "And I don't think sneaking in is going to help us much, either. We don't know how the building is laid out inside and they're likely to have internal check points on a place so large just to make sure zombies weren't able to get in. That's what we've had to do with Hayes, in the buildings and around the campus. I wouldn't want to risk someone getting shot because they thought they were a zombie in a dark hallway."

She bit her lip and thought. "How about this? Why don't I and one or two others go up and announce ourselves while the rest stay back. That's not an unreasonable precaution, and people usually aren't frightened of me. We'll take in a radio and keep it on, and go from there. How does that sound?"

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There was no surprise on anyone’s face when both Jacobs and Caleb protested. “You shouldn’t do that!” Caleb barked as Jacobs remarked, “That isn’t wise, tactically. You’re not bulletproof.”

“How about we make her bulletproof… well, mostly.” Neiermeier’s expression was casual as he added, “We have Kevlar vests in the bus. Two, actually.”

“Won’t stop a head shot,” Jacobs remarked.

“Nope. It won’t.” There was no consternation from the former cop; he just admitted the weakness in the plan. “And most people don’t do head shots real well.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

"I should start wearing armor just so that we have a spare when someone needs it," George sighed. "Alternatively, instead of heading back to the bus, we could send two people up to act as observers. In theory they wouldn't need armor, since one could cover us, and the other could cover our spotter. It's unlikely there will be any zombies on the roofs of any of these buildings, and the access points are likely locked, so they'd probably notice if anyone tried to sneak up behind them."

Neiermeier looked George over. "It's a risk, but a calculated one. I suggest we send up a team of three, though, just to make sure nobody gets distracted. It's not like we're trying to get the most punch here in any event. Maybe if you ran up the stairs with the observation team, sir, and then brought two of their vests down with you?"

George frowned at the mention of daylight. "Yeah, we should make a point of coming in during the day, and not trying to look sneaky." With that, he jogged over into the lobby of one of the taller looking buildings, where he opened the locked door with judicious application of his strength and one of the magnesium bars for leverage. George made sure he made an unholy ruckus on the way up to draw out any zombies that might be hiding, and the team followed at what started as two flights behind him, but was about four by the end, their collective Maglites illuminating the concrete fire escape stairs. Although there were a few signs of old carnage, the climb was uneventful.

George parkoured down the alley between the observation building and the lower one directly opposite the 3M facility. He met up with the bulk of the team at the bottom, a slightly dusty flak vest in each arm and a huge grin on his face. "What a rush!"

Neiermeier, with a flourish and two quacks, had pulled a roll of duct tape out of the trunk of one of the cruisers.

"What do you think is the best way to do this?" George asked Gabrielle, brandishing the two vests. "I've never tried to fit them for someone with wings before."

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  • 4 weeks later...

The super was fitted awkwardly for a bullet-proof vest, then the group proceeded out into the open. They didn't have to wait long; the group inside sent out a delegate. The thin young woman was clearly nervous, rubbing her bare arms and looking afraid. "Who are you? Where are you from?"

"We're from Columbia," one of the locals said.

"We're visitors," George said, as Gabrielle said much the same.

"You can't be from Columbia," the woman said, frowning. "It's empty. Rhania said so."

"Who's Rhania?" Gabrielle asked, tilting her head to the side.

"She's our leader," the woman said. "She gets us things, so we can survive."

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"Wait! What?" George blurted out. His face started to redden as everyone turned to look at him. "I mean, haven't you gone to check things out for yourselves? George asked the skinny woman.

Neiermeier tapped George on the shoulder to confer, and the two stepped back slightly, before the Sergeant whispered "Sir, I she doesn't look the type to go wandering off into hostile territory. In fact, she looks more like she's undernurished than anything else. Maybe some of us should go in to meet more of them?"

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Has the possibility occured to you," Neiermeier said, in a pleasant and level voice, "that this 'Rhania'"--the airquotes in his voice were on the verge of being palpable--"might be manipulating you so that she can control you?"

"Enough, Sergeant!" George piped up. "She was never even close to ready for what this world has come to."

Neiermeier stepped back, but as he did, he muttered the old adage "'Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both.'"

"Obviously, Sergeant. She did." George glanced at Gabrielle as he turned back to "Sorry for that. The group I'm with has been on the road for a while, and some of us, like Neiermeier, are a little worn out, because times are tough. On the other hand, if you're careful you can survive, and maybe even thrive. Certainly some of the other groups we've met have."

I'm George, by the way. What should we call you?" he asked, before letting Gabrielle make introductions for her own people.

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"Betty," she said, her voice fearful. "Rhania... she's going to be happy that you're here, but not if you say such awful things." Betty's eyes darted around the area nervously. "She's supposed to be back soon so just remember to be nice, ok?"

"Does she do bad things if you're not nice?" Jacobs asked, his voice exceptionally casual.

Betty's nervous swallow was a good answer; the woman almost didn't need to confirm the answer with a soft, "She can get mad."

"Can she?" Jacobs replied mildly. "Well, we have an answer for that."

As if to mock him, a shot rang out. Neiermeier went down with a grunt, a hole in his shirt. "On the roof!" Jacobs shouted as everyone hit the ground. "Shooter on the roof!"

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George glanced at Neiermeier, who waved him on even as he rolled to cover, then broke into an all out sprint towards the building's roof, then up at the roof Jacobs had gestured towards, looking for the threat. The rest of his team had taken cover, while his team took cover, and started looking for flanking threats. Within moments, George's legs became a rumbling blur.

Activating Rushing Mountain to double movement. -1 QP.

When this is active, there is a noticable rumbling like the sound of stone grinding and sliding on stone. Visually, his legs seem to blur, but those with a really good sense of vision (or a very high speed video camera) will say that his legs are actually falling apart and reforming themselves, so that they literally become a rock slide that he moves on. Everything on the path he takes is completely flattened.

Neiermeier, having taken cover and noticing that everyone else was already doing what they should have been doing, unslinged his sidearm, and looked behind them scanning for threats. Surprisingly, he noticed Gabrielle's team seemed to hold it together when the excrement hit the rotary impeller.

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  • 1 month later...

Gabrielle froze at the onslaught of violence; it was only when a slug slammed into her jacket that she moved. That movement was only to tumbled backwards to the ground, her wings flying wide as she fell. She heard Jacobs and Caleb both call her name in frightened voices. A moment later, someone grabbed an ankle, then someone grabbed her ankle. As she struggled for breath, she was pulled behind cover.

“The vest stopped it,” she distantly heard Jacobs say; slowly breath returned to her as she heard gunfire in the distance. By the time she’d regained her senses, she was in the middle of an intense discussion of tactics and next steps.

“What are… we doing?” she gasped.

“We’re waiting while George comes back,” Jacobs said softly. In the distance, she could hear the rumbling and grinding of stone.

It wasn’t long before he did return. “They’re done,” he said, not elaborating on whether they were unconscious or dead.

Gabrielle didn’t want to ask. “We need to talk to the people inside now,” she replied. The others more or less agreed and they let her take the lead. There were twenty very emotionally broken people inside, not counting the six on the roof. The sobbing Betty helped, mostly by telling Gabrielle what not to attempt with the woman’s whimpered denials. It still took awhile to peel back the ugly layers of lie that these people had been fed, to convince them that they’d been taken advantage of by a petty, power-hungry monster.

Of the monster herself, there was no sign of Rhania. “Probably ran at the first sign of trouble,” Neiemeier muttered. Whatever the reason, the body-snatcher was nowhere to be found. When they found out she could jump around pretty easily, it made sense that she wouldn’t stick around for long if she sensed an issue. The question was whether she’d be back later.

I'm closing this thread to move people along. 5 xp.

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