RP: "Adventures in Gunrunning" - Act 12

POSTED BY: FrauDirektor
UPDATED: Tuesday, March 23, 2004 21:45
VIEWED: 19241
PAGE 2 of 11

OOC-sorry I haven't posted in a while, power outage (may PNM join Fox in it's hellish destiation)
Wash's move:
Wash pilots with care and precision, but at the same time maniacal, cheering with the hit. "Wooyah! That was fun!"

Slights move:
Slight grabs his gothus, the weapon of the Blue Sun Powers. He'd thought it might come in handy.
Abruptly, the ship grinds into movement, and Slight can see the Alliance ship, outlined in white along the hull, like a shadow. Slight makes a snapping decision-it is time to go.
He heads to the airlock, and withouut hesitating, he opens the door, leaping down the hundred or so yards to the ground. As he falls, he allows the trenchcoat to fall of, revealing a metallic armor. The curve along the back opens, unfolding into a clear, unreflective parachute that is virtually invisble. Nonetheless, the impact is jarring. Even as he lands, Slight cuts from the parachute and hits the ground running, flying towards the obs craft. He activates the chameleon armor, and it shifts, blending in with the ground, so that he virtually disappears. you could spot him from ten yards, but from the sky is impossible.
Slight is in his element. His eyes have shifted back to the pure, bloody red that is needed. His face is hardened into a primal expression of bloodlust. He might kill anyone, if they interfere with his goal. Above him, he hears an explosion, and sees a ship land right in front of him. Well, not land-crash. As he leaps over the nose, and runs directly across the ship, an Alliance fed climbs out of the ship, airshock rifle in front. Slight doesn't even break pace-a claw extends from the arm of his armor, and he cuts laterally.
he hits the ground, continuing along, as the feds skull crashs into the dirt.
Slight continues on, not even blinking.

I'm talking about geese.

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Books Move

Location: Bridge to Galley

Book tries not to think about what Hell is like as he goes to Damon. He feels he might be a little too bitter in his description at the moment, so he says nothing. Instead, Book supports Damon on one side while Rowan supports his other and they lead him lumberingly down the hallway. Stopping at the galley, Book pauses long enough to lower Damon into a chair.

"If he has reopened his wounds, we'd better check them before we move him any further. We could be doing damage right now."

Book motions for Damon to lift up his shirt to reveal the wound. Sure enough it has started to leak blood again.

"Rowan, would you mind getting a med bag from the infirmary?

Book watches the grimace on Damon's face as Book examines the wound for the third time. Damon continues to mutter under his breath about the quality of his work and Book goes to a refrigerated cubby hole, returning with a beer.

"Lucky that isn't a stomach wound, or there'd be none of this." Book hands him the beer.

EM

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Damon's turn:
LOCATION - BRIDGE



Damon's eyes snap open as he feels a pair of hands on each arm. He jerks back, bumping into the computer consol and balls his hands into fists defensively. He looks up to see Book and Rowan trying to help him to his feet.

"Tzao gao..." he mutters letting his muscles relax again. "You two damn near gave me a heart attack."

He looks around as they lift him up and maneuver him toward the door. Serenity’s bridge seems to have gotten crowded since he dozed off. How long was he out? He starts to pull away from Book and Rowan but the room suddenly sways, throwing his regained balance back off. Book and Rowan catch him again before he can hit anything else. Either the ship was taking off or he was in worse condition than he would like to admit. Probably both.

Rowan: "Well, this should be fun. Trying to get a fella down to the infirmary during a daring escape. You'll be able to wow your grandkids this one, xiâo dì dì."

Damon gives a halfhearted grunt of a laugh. “Grandkids, right. And cows can fly.”

Did she just call me xiâo dì dì?

They arrive in the galley and Book stops to lower him into a chair. “If he has reopened his wounds, we'd better check them before we move him any further. We could be doing damage right now."

Book motions for Damon to lift up his shirt to reveal the wound. Sure enough it has started to leak blood again. "Rowan, would you mind getting a med bag from the infirmary?

Damon grimaces as Book examines the wound for the third time. “Maybe I shoulda just let Kaylee install that damn cannon. Woulda saved myself a lot of energy and then she wouldn’t of been able to complain about my work.”

Book goes to a refrigerated cubby hole, returning with a beer. "Lucky that isn't a stomach wound, or there'd be none of this." Book hands him the beer.

Damon smiles gratefully and downs half of it in a few seconds. He lets out a tired sigh and rests his head against the chair. “Thanks again, Old Man.”




I'm not broken, in my dream I win...

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Rowan's Move
LOCATION - Start/End DINING ROOM through AFT PASSAGEWAY down to COMMON AREA AND PASSENGER DORMS to INFIRMARY
OOC: Looks kind of like Walt Disney threw up, doesn't it? This might be an example of how NOT to use the color tags.
------------------------------
BOOK: "Rowan, would you mind getting a med bag from the infirmary?"
------------------------------
ROWAN: "Not at all Shephard. Be right back."

Giving Damon's arm a quick squeeze, she heads for the rear hatchway and takes the back stairs down to the common area. Heading up to the passenger dorms first, she stows the attaché bag back under her bunk, checking her duffle first to insure the money pouch is still right where she left it before heading back out. Another thing besides a two-person lift - the Firefly really should have included personal locks on the passenger dorm doors.

Her balance is better than before, but there's also a dull ache in her eye, likely indicating the recent work done. Hopefully it won't be very long before the bandage can be removed. Then she'll have to work out how to explain her use of the contact lenses, but she figures she can jump out that airlock when she gets to it.

EOM

OOC: Holding further movement until we determine when Capn's getting back, and where Simon is right now.

We have art so as not to die of truth ~ Neitzsche
http://www.mnartists.org/artistHome.do?rid=7922

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Inara's turn

LOCATION - BRIDGETO DINING ROOM

Inara goes a bit dodgy

Inara drifted just outside the door to the helm, fists clenched and shaking, watching...trying not to stumble as the blasts rocked Serenity. She winced every time the ship groaned in protest.

They had it all well in hand...she truly wasn't needed, and that chafed most of all---Mal standing in their midst, looking stern and barking orders...Kaylee had just left, a bereft, pouting look on her face. Wash, perched in his usual chair--arms clenched in concentration, Zoe standing behind him like a guardian goddess--lending him strength through her fingertips on his shoulder. The new woman...she didn't even know her name...long blonde hair, and a gaze of iron...manning the new controls on the bridge....

Her eyes kept returning to Mal. Even when Rowan and Book carried Damon out--his face drawn, and the smell of fresh-spilt blood on him, she couldn't tear her eyes away...

There he stood, silhouetted against the front viewport, all ruffled hair and strong shoulders, seemingly unaffected as Serenity bucked and rolled under him...she hated him, she adored him, her heart burned and froze at the same time for him....love shouldn't be this complicated.

Finally, Inara turned away, following Rowan and Book down the halls into the galley, where Damon is now draped across one of the hard chairs, his shirt lifted, exposing an expanse of pale flesh, and a bandage soaked in blood. Damon swigs deeply from a can of beer, and relaxes against his seat--Book kneels before him.

Book murmurs to Rowan, she squeezes Damon's arm briefly before she sets off--Inara assumes she's going to fetch more bandages.

INARA:
Shepherd, have you seen Simon? Last time I saw him was in the Infirmary--shouldn't we be taking Damon to him?

End Inara's turn

ooc a lot of babbling for just one line :P

Just a humble supplicant in service to all things Joss

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LOCATION - BRIDGE
As...

Quote:

---

MERZ, you ready to kick some Alliance Pigu*?

---

aye aye, sir Some deep and cautious part of her kept that from coming out.

MERZ is concentrating, ranging on the incoming targets ahead when an unknown voice claims part of her attention. She may not know who is speaking, but that tone she has heard before, and there is no question that it will be obeyed.

Quote:

---

“Pilot! On my command, give us max lift. Align the bow with that pair of ships. The other will be trying to get behind us. Gunner! Fire two quick bursts at the pair on the bow as soon as they’re in range...shake them up, then look dead astern. You should find the third about 30 degrees above horizon setting up his pass. You have two seconds to burn him, wing root or cockpit's best, then get back on the pair. Execute!”

---

She has fired off two shots in quick succession before he has finished speaking and swung the targeting around to the aft target, which is right where he ought to be. She hears the Captain’s "Good shot!" and is satisfied that he is on the bridge and that no one would be giving orders without his sayso.

She triggers a long burst at the aft target and swings back to the incoming from the fore. They have jinked right and left; as the gun is swinging from right to left she pulls off another shot at the right fighter as she swings by and then sets up a more aimed shot at the leftmost ship and does a long burn down the side as it flashes to the rear.

now i have two in the rear and one in the front. i have a few seconds while they turn for the next pass and the pilot is going to have to watch the one in front. can’t afford that many back shots.

MERZ quickly returns targeting to the rear and watches the rangefinder.

EOM

OOC
Well, I was right, this IS exciting. Now to wait until we have a clear idea on just how many ships are left. With any luck, now that Brink is headed for the os craft, Simon is already there waiting for him.


If Justice is the dish, then I am your waitress

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Yay! I'm posting! Hoo-ra! Hoo-ra! Hoo-ra!
__________
River is in the infirmary, as far as anyone knows. She decides to leave. She wanders down to the bridge. She looks at Damon, then at his arm.

It hurt. More than just physical pain. They tore you down. But you kept building yourself up. But every time they tore you down a little more. And it got harder to rebuild.

River goes to the kitchen.
__________

Okay, Squee, hope this flys with you. I can change it if you want.

_____________
"Freedom is the Freedom to say that 2+2 makes 4. If that is granted, all else follws"-Winston, 1984
Teela Brown, keeper of bad typing.
"No one reads these things any way."- Bart on Blackboard

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Thorne's Move:

Location: Bridge

[THORNE casts a quick, rueful look in MAL's direction. He knows he's out of line, but instinct has taken over. Besides, he's done this many times, and the Captain has probably never fought a ship out of atmo before. The screens call his attention back to the fight.

The ventral camera shows a ground attack craft crash-landed near the waiting Gyrfalcon. The scans never noticed it, probably flying nap-of-the-earth, but a Nimbus managed to clip it. Smart missle. Not a problem for the Serenity any more. The others...]

THORNE: "Pilot. Turn to port and bear on those two cripples. Close as fast as you can. Be ready to 'Crazy Ivan' if I call it. Let engineering know. Gunner. Don't let them get set up. Fire as you bear, and keep them dodging. If one turns away, try to kill the other. You're both doing a great job."

[The ship spins and the laser hums once again. The fighters try to evade. One of them suddenly turns from a spacecraft into a cloud of laminate shards and pieces of what was once a man.]

THORNE: "Dead 'un! Drop it! Let's get another."

[A close miss from astern rattles the Firefly.]

Thorne:"Pilot! Crazy Ivan!"

EOM

'night, all.




"Keep the Shiny side up"

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OOC: Shiny Teela!

Damon's turn:
LOCATION - DINING ROOM

Damon shifts in his chair uncomfortably as Rowan gently squeezs his arm and walks out of the galley. He takes another drink of his beer and turns when Inara walks in.

Inara: "Shepherd, have you seen Simon? Last time I saw him was in the Infirmary--shouldn't we be taking Damon to him?"

Damon sighs inwardly. He's seen more doctor in one day than he did in eight years of enslavement. At least doctor meant more painkillers.

He turns back to Book, who is still inspecting his injuries, and notices a young girl looking at him. He hadn't even heard her come in. What was her name again?

Before he has a chance to ask her, her gaze shifts down to his right arm.

Quote:

---

Originally posted by TeelaBrown:

It hurt. More than just physical pain. They tore you down. But you kept building yourself up. But every time they tore you down a little more. And it got harder to rebuild.

---

Damon pales when he realizes what she is referring to and gets even paler when he realizes that she was stating much more than what was availible on the cortex. He doesn't hear his beer bottle hit the floor of the galley.

Quote:

---

Rough hands pulled Damon off the floor of the shuttle and shoved him hard. He felt the floor disappear from under his feet but with his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t catch himself when he hit the dirt. He mumbled a curse through his gag as the hands grabbed him again and hauled him to his feet. One of them pulled the blindfold from his face, blinding him with the sudden exposure to the bright afternoon sunlight. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his head away, trying to adjust to the brilliance.

“Name?” someone asked.

Damon was forced to his knees. A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back sharply.

“Damon Boster,” another answered.

“Age?”

“Twenty-one.”

Damon opened his eyes and squinted at two men standing in front of him. One carried a clipboard and was writing on it, the other looked rich and in charge. The rich ones were always in charge. In the distance were hundreds of workers going in and out of several mines. He cursed his father silently, swearing again that he would kill him the next time he laid eyes on him.

“Background?” the man with the clipboard asked.

“Sold into service three years ago. Worked in an Alliance weapons and military vehicles factory until sold here.”

The rich man smiled. “Not much profit in making weapons and tanks now that the war is over is there?”

Damon tried to speak through the gag, but none of it was audible. The rich man nodded to one of the men behind Damon. His hair was released and the gag was removed.

Damon spat in the man’s face and tried to pull free from the men holding him. They grabbed his hair again and pulled his head back until his neck felt like it would snap. The man with the clipboard stepped up and kneed him in the gut.

“That’s enough,” the rich man said to the man with the clipboard, “Go get the iron.” He stepped up to Damon and leaned forward until his face was only an inch from Damon’s. His breath stank of expensive wine. “Well, Damon, welcome to your new home. My name is Crofton Trinh, but you will call me either sir or master. You will speak when spoken to, you will come when I or any of my men call, two meals a day are rewarded for obedience and if you disobey, you will be punished. Your kind don’t last around here. Break fast or break hard.”

Damon wished they would let go of his head so that he could spit at him again, or maybe break his nose. “Chur ni-duh, hwoon dahn,” he glared at him defiantly, “I’m not afraid of you, and nothing you can do will ever change that.”

Crofton smiled and stood back as the man with the clipboard came into view, only now he was holding branding iron with a two-inch, red-hot Chinese symbol for ‘Trinh’ at the end.

Damon’s eyes went wide for a moment and then he pulled at the handcuffs behind his

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