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Post by Deleted on Nov 26, 2013 18:40:23 GMT -8
The contents of the bottle vanished, sucked down like a man dying of thirst in the desert. It was cheap, astringent stuff, but one would be hard pressed to accuse Dresden of being entirely sober at any point in the last few days. His body didn't even offer a token resistance as the foul stuff burned its way into his gut. And why should it? Sober hurt.
Soon, even the most severe if his injuries would fade into a dull, manageable ache.
"Right. If I remember correctly, most if these cabins have a cellar of some kind. Dressel doesn't get much in the way of severe weather, but we can get some pretty spectacular blizzards in the north. There will probably be emergency supplies, maybe even weapons, down there. You'll have to help me, but I think I'm ready to go when you are."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 26, 2013 19:30:14 GMT -8
The plan seemed fair enough, and there was plenty of time left to explore their possible coffin at a slow pace. Eager to get to work, the woman positions herself to take most of his weight so that the can survive the crucible that is standing.
"zYour not as heavy as I expected. But den again zyou seem to be an expert at surprises."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 26, 2013 19:51:51 GMT -8
"I get that a lot. Between the height and the width of the shoulders, people tend to assume I'm a good thirty pounds heavier than I really am."
Standing was problematic, not because the legs weren't up to the task, but because balance was out to lunch. Still, Dresden was able to use Major to compensate for the room's unnatural spin, and together, they were able to lurch around with something resembling coordination.
Finding the storm shelter wasn't too difficult. There was a trapdoor under the table, and it opened without difficulty. Getting down the stairs was tricky, but they made it without further injury.
The room itself was a bit smaller than the cabin, on account of the heavily insulated walls. It was noticeably warmer down here as well, with a modern heating unit instead of the wood burning fireplace upstairs. As expected, there were plenty of self heating emergency rations, bottled water, and, most encouragingly, a gun cabinet.
And since there was a comfortable looking bed as well, Dresden made his way over to it and tried his best to choke back the nausea that had been threatening to deposit the whiskey onto the floor.
"Well, that's more like it."
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 6:39:50 GMT -8
Well, the man is a trooper, thought the Major, impressed that in his normal, non Force aided human form could manage to walk about and down a flight of stairs without much in the way of blackouts. Dresden didn't even retch or regurgitate any contents from his stomach -that being another achievement worth at least a campaign ribbon, but such novelties could be considered later. Assured that he was steady and stable enough to leave alone on the bed, our Fallanassi checks the gun cabinet like a paranoid person -carefully checking for any traps or humiliating gifts left by Koko with a thorough scan in a couple of spectra. Somewhat confidently, she opens the cabinet door, and -what's this- a full blown gasp?
"Oooooohhhh!"
Let's just say the contents put a spring in both her step and her ridiculously long hair. Barely containing excitement, she manages to cull her more selfish instinct and produces a number of items from the cabinet before carrying them over, laying them gently by the ex-Shard's side. The woman at least recognized one of these weapons: namely, the antique Lemat revolver, with it's iconic double barrel. How could she forget the bluish-gray steel that had been aimed from one pace between her eyes, while he asked, 'What are you worth?' It was a horrifying experience, and this weapon carried that with it, but it also seemed quite hopeful -for she was still here, alive, to appreciate its profile. The other gun, also a revolver, looked much more traditional -though the Major had to admit that she both didn't know much about six-shooters, nor was inclined to use one. Besides the empty guns, there are two smaller boxes and a pouch. One box contained 36 cartridges for the Lemat, the other contained 24 rounds for the foreign revolver, and in the pouch were three shells, or whatever these strange bullets were, for the underbarrel attachment.
And then a harsh, wicked smile wrinkles and causes her face to look far more angular than it really was. Once she got back to the cabinet, she began to sort of bounce with a smirk while humming absentmindedly. For a minute she drums her white gloved hands into the sides of her jaw while her little song intensifies. Suddenly, she shrugs, unbuttons her shirt, and casts it off as if such an act opened a portal to oblivion to which the shirt had been consigned unto. Underneath, it appeared to be a simple black tanktop, but in reality Dresden might recognize it as one of those combat vests he had to cut off her smouldering, bullet riddled body. Very helpful it was in a jam, and form fitting to boot.
The Huntress flexes her sickly pale arms, checking to see how they were coming along. Lean and muscular, but soft when not strained. Good. With more training she could probably start cracking heads in two punches, not four.
"Der bloodt of mein enemies vwill vwarm me."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 7:11:48 GMT -8
Dresden levered himself upright. His original LeMat had been destroyed with his body, and they were rare enough that he knew this one wasn't here by coincidence. It had been cartridge converted, which was a feat and a half all on its own, taking .45 Schofield rounds. The underbarrel shotgun had been converted as well. It functioned more like the M203 grenade launcher, complete with its own separate trigger. It was a more modern, less elegant but just as deadly take on the original.
The other pistol was almost enough to give the ex-Shard pause. The S&W .500 revolver was a legend in firearm circles. You could put down a rancor with a single shot, which was handy, considering the fact that the recoil would make a rapid follow up shot difficult. This particular model had a vented and compensated 6 inch barrel, blued steel instead of bare.
"I think this will do nicely. What did you find that excites you so?"
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 8:05:05 GMT -8
"Dis!"
And then she wheels about with that ripper grin and holds up her prestigious and precious warhammer, companion, and all around unbiased equalizer: the cherrywood musket. So it was her in the middle of the woods, against an expected task force? Oh, how the wolves and rooks will feast tonight. Again displaying childlike tendencies at the threat of outgoing violence, she swoops and twirls the thing, singing, "Hurrah. Hurrah. Heute ist unser Tag des Sieges," before stop-checking the instrument with her foot. Admittedly, that stung a lot more without a boot on. Actually, that really hurt. Ow. Ow. Throb.
"Get some sleep, vWhill. I vwill handle dee annoyance vwhile zyou rest."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 8:18:35 GMT -8
"Er, a couple of points of order," said the Shard, rising carefully from the bed. "There are still only two of us, we have no idea how many of them there are, you can no more use your illusion than I can heal, and if I got to sleep down here, you're stuck down here with me ."
All facts that the huntress would do to bear in mind. Still, it could be worse. They both had some very effective tools to work with, and even without the Force, the bounty hunters would have their hands full.
"Might as well get something to eat. I hate fighting on an empty stomach."
Dresden actually managed to stand on his own without tipping over, though he had to sit his ass back down with a quickness.
"Or not. You grab you something, I'll catch up in a minute. Just try not to rat fuck the boxes too badly."
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The Major
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 11:53:31 GMT -8
Eat? At a time like this? But there were more tools to be collected and stowed inside the gun cabinet. With gusto, the Fallanassi props her musket against the wall and begins rummaging. In about four minutes she had collected a box of 15 .50 BMG rounds for the musket. Err, well, rifle? Rifle Musket? Combo Godstick? Luckily they had packed the firing mechanism that chambered the large sniper round, wrapped it in a nylon sack, and even had the decency to put in the tools needed to facilitate the swap -which wasn't at all very complicated thanks to some Dresselian ingenuity. What's more, there was a leather chest holster that was tanned with a certain pistol in mind. That pistol was now pulled with a more subdued smirk upon the woman's face. She was glad they didn't keep it; after all, she went through a kind of Hell to take, and then shoot her father with it. The Model 39 would prove a perfect companion for the markswoman, and though it was empty, the three extra magazines should be more than enough for rapid self defense. Her only complaint with the loadout was that the testers had not left a knife of some sort for her to carry; the Major was accustomed to carrying at least a bayonet up her sleeve.
Ah, but they had remembered to leave something far better behind in its place.
"Foodt? Ja, Foodt. Jetzt ein minute."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 14:11:32 GMT -8
Dresden loaded his own weapons with near mechanical efficiency, and was pleased to find that everything was in order. The .500 had a slight flaw in the timing that would make rapid fire impossible, but the massive recoil had already made it stupid, so he wasn't unduly worried. The LeMat was in excellent shape, and would be more than enough to put down anything that tried to stand in its way.
"You're acting like a kid at Christmas. What's got you so excited?"
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 15:40:55 GMT -8
"Currrrwrist-mast? Was? vWhat dehr --- nevermindt."
Brief confusion is replaced with that supreme amusement, and the woman turns to show him her prize: both the pistol and the holster that would no doubt see some use in the next few hours.
"Dey left mein pistol! Remember? zYou improved it as ein indicator of mein treatment of arms. Oddly enough, it shhtarted eine type of habit.
Every jear I vwouldt replace dehr same parts. It vwas ein expensive habit, but money never became an issue, especially vwith mein talents."
A sort of mist that had clouded over her eyes peeled off as she came back to the present, still twitchy, still excited, still... freakishly creepy when elated.
"Dey also left dis!"
She pulls a device from the end of her musket, and now would be about the time when Dresden would realize it was actually a hilt, a modified lightsaber hilt.
"I'll use dis vwhen I am turnedt on."
Her brow furrows.
"I meant it vwill turn on vwhen neededt? Verdammen."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 15:50:03 GMT -8
"I think you had it right the first time," he muttered dryly. Lightsaber bayonet. Just what every little girl needed. Dresden had a feeling that it would be used with great enthusiasm and maybe a little symbolism on the bounty hunters.
"I don't suppose they left you some of those magic bullets of yours, did they? Because that might come in handy."
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 15:58:26 GMT -8
"Excuse me, Sir. Ich bin ein great deal of dinks, but ein pervert ist not vone of dem. In fact, I usedt to fancy myself." Looks like she wasn't going to let his little utterance go. Of course, pausing where she did definitely did not help her case.
".....As asexual."
She sniffs the air between, suddenly remember to add another verse in afterthought. "Ja, it vwas by choice! Choice!"
Redder than before, she begins to fasten the holster just underneath where her breasts should be. Not that she really had a pair, anyway.
"Besides, I foundt plenty of fulfillment doingk somethingk else."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 16:11:06 GMT -8
"Oh really," Dresden drawled, his tone drier than a bottle of gin in a bucket of sand. He gave he a crooked grin and a rather thorough look over. "And how's that working out for you?"
It was all the former Shard could do not to chuckle as she turned bright red. Only the knowledge that, had the tables been turned, he would have blushed just as easily kept him in check.
"See, I remember a side of you that, if we're honest, was anything but."
Okay, so they had the next best thing to four hours before they'd be fighting for their lives. Didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun before the mayhem.
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 16:33:08 GMT -8
"Tch. vWhat ist vwith zyou? zYou tease as if zyou fancied zyourself ein playboy. zYou know sonethingk about somethingk or ist it ein hobby to try to unt make uncomfortable."
She loaded a magazine into the Model 39 and chambered a round.
"vWell? Put up den. Enough games; let us see vwhat zyou hafe."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 16:41:18 GMT -8
Dresden raised an eyebrow in surprise. He was getting quite expressive with the things. At any rate, this was a new line for the Major to take, but not a surprising one. It would be impossible to keep her on the defensive forever; eventually, she would find a way to attack.
Under any other circumstances, this would be a golden opportunity to up the stakes and mix metaphors, but with his injuries...
"And how, pray tell." he said carefully, "do you propose we go about that?"
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 18:46:33 GMT -8
"It ist official: mein favorite moments are der vones dat zyou hafe no clue about; it ist ein subject beyondt zyour grasp, but zyou buff unt fill dehr gaps. Truly, zyou are dee most charmingk vwhen dat back ist against der vwall."
Now kneeling in front of the cabinet, the Major lays out the musket and begins the process of swapping firing mechanisms. She deliberately takes it slowly, and after a few moments, a quip is added.
"zYou know, I hafe quite a selection of textbooks unt treatises on sexuality. I can lendt zyou some; den zyou can back zyour boastingk vwith intel. Or...."
Then she looks at him, smiles widely, and returns to her work.
"...Nein. Maybe later."
But that smile doesn't fade.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 18:52:29 GMT -8
Dresden's smile got just a bit chillier.
"Having one good arm and a busted face doesn't do much for one's capabilities," he said. "Though I'm more than open to suggestions on dealing with the matter, since I'm sure it's come up in one of your textbooks."
The former Shard could take honest criticism, but being chided for something that was basically her fault was slightly irritating.
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Post by The Major on Nov 27, 2013 22:51:15 GMT -8
". . ."
As that head tilts down -the angle itself a result of a debilitating comment- something of a strange lighting effect takes root. Perhaps it was the mass of visibly slick hair falling into her face. Perhaps it was a subtly cast illusion, so tiny in effort, it only caused a tolerable amount of pain. Perhaps it was more of curse, part of a dark gamble and vow, the kind of thing that shrunk the soul, that came from the same place as those magic bullets. For whatever reason her face appeared to be cloaked in black, with the only visible distinctions being the toothy frown and quick lens flare reflected from a gleam from an opened bolt.
"Dat ist not..." If it were possible, that lopsided expression further darkened. "Dresden. . ."
"vWhat jetzt happened ist not normal behavior; human relationships are not to be such vways. vWar ist vone dink, destroyingk dee enemy ist vone dink, but vwhat I did to zyou -dis vwas abuse- cold, hardt abuse.
"It does not matter if zyou mockedt me. It ist irrelevant dat I hate beingk calledt as nothingk; nor does it matter dat zyour oversimplification of mein mindt unt its vworkingsk are so easy für zyou to diminish. None of dat gives justification für abuse. Einverstanden? zYou shouldt be vengeful, angry, unt like Hell. But perhaps it does not trouble zyou much. Maybe I am ein tick at der side, ineffectual, useless, unt ein toy. Maybe dat ist dehr fate of humans.
"I'll never do such ein action unto zyou ever again, so longk as I breathe. Unt even if zyou make me feel diminutive, or shhhpit on me, I'll never react so beastly. It vwas disgustingk."
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Post by Deleted on Nov 27, 2013 23:20:23 GMT -8
Dresden sighed and tried not to react hastily.
"Major...look. I know. I've seen it enough, what you humans can do to the ones you say you love. Seen it more times than you can imagine. You know better than anyone just what it can lead to, and you're smart enough to know why I didn't react, why I tried to blow it off like it was no big deal. Like it was normal when we both know it's not. So please, please. Just drop it. We're both capable of inflicting unspeakable horrors on each other. You say it won't happen again? I'll believe you, because the alternative is to put you down like a dog. Don't make me think too hard about it, just make me believe I made the right choice. Please."
The unmistakable note of pleading in his voice was shocking, even to the fallen Whill. He knew he was reaching, knew he was rationalizing, knew that, fundamentally, this was wrong. But he didn't care.
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Post by The Major on Nov 28, 2013 6:49:42 GMT -8
Involuntary trembles and shudders bore remarkable semblance to involuntary euthanasia; both were accompanied with gut wrenching and a sense of unshakable dread when its passing was an apparent trope. Shake it as she might, ignore it as much as she would like, the eating gnat festering inside those innards did not hesitate to send various doom blades slicedicing across the forefront of awareness, down to the support trenches of the unconscious. And all the Fallanassi can think of is one of Subject 67's more moribund and disturbing statements, 'You're just like me: what you touch none will soon see."
Destruction, the markswoman's world, her epitome, was destruction, and although the ex-Shard could regenerate more back than most, that certainly wasn't for a lack of trying on her part. She knew of him, what he represented, hated that he got everything and she had nothing, and she tried to steal it from him: with Kuroro in Hyperspace, with the spies in Iziz, to setting up that Hellhole in the Zoo -preying on his weakened state and violating his friendship with the unwitting agent named Chloro. Eralam lacked grace, but he wasn't stupid. He remembered all these things. And on top of that medley, we have the not so subtle interrogation enroute to Dressel, along with her explosion at the meeting, and even the argument over slavery the next day.
And now this?
How many times would the Fallen Whill take it on the chin and shrug it off. Why did all their encounters end with his forgiveness? She didn't even want to attack him anymore, but their meetings eventually ended with violence. Worse yet, the last few times were completely unintentional, meaning they were reactions she utterly failed to control. The Major was somehow degenerating and slipping down a tepid slope into something absolutely terrifying: actual, unfettered, bestial madness. Awareness of this trend did not make it better, and she refused to take mood altering medication once escaping the clutches of the Fallanassi.
It was the last few strikes in her life. There was an apex as the shadow Reich erased the white current cultists, and the cumulative victories within the Order of the Eye, and those seemingly golden days where she and the Sith played god with their sectors of space. But then something changed in them, and in the object of her affections in the form of the Sith Clone, Dragus. He was always cold, entertaining, but his malice started churning inside, and by extension it would burn her in awful ways, breaking her body in ever more lopsided odds. He finally disappeared, abandoning everything on some feeble insanity.
Double strikes were doled out by the universe at every opportunity, and so the invasion and fall of Reecee, her capital, was underway. It was in this steam rolling of a battle that she earned the lightsaber score across her lower back, and once the nukes were busy atomizing her planet it thus began a new battle for survival on a place cloaked and choked in radioactive winter. How anyone aboard the Saya had escaped was a testament to their will to survive, and also a story for another day. Point again taken up: it seemed to be an everlasting cycle of retreats and defeats.
And now this?
'Worried. I am worried,' thought the Fallanassi. Anything she could say would seem futile, so the woman decides to continue the part swap in silence.
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