elle days | courier six (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quixotically) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-07-28 12:47 pm
quixotically) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-07-28 12:47 pm
[closed] tonight, imma fight 'till we see the sunlight
Who: The Entire Fallout Cast, Kazuhira Miller, Rinzler, Nihlus, Han Solo, Niko Bellic
When: The end of July
Where: The Outpost
What: Let's Fuck Up Some Slavers
Warnings: NPC murder, violence, slavery, mentions of sexual slavery, the Tronverse sucks, others likely pending
Other: This is the song that was stuck in my head when I wrote this up. I'm sorry. Also, treat this as a general catch-all post! Thread out what you want, handwave what you want, let's just have fun with this!
The plan Elle puts together is, admittedly, not terribly detailed, but she trusts Kazuhira to have their backs. But the general shape of her plan is this:
The wastelanders are to split up into two sniper teams, one of two and one of three. (The buddy system is vital, Elle thinks. No one should be in territory that could turn against them by themselves.) Elle herself, along with Rinzler and Nihlus, form the ground team, tasked with breaking and entering, taking out leftover hostiles at close-range, and scrambling communications and tracking systems. Kazuhira will be providing radio support to everyone, maintaining contact, providing details, giving out warnings, generally overseeing and keeping it all organized. They have two transports set up for taking the rescues back to the Moira, one of them being the one Rinzler flew everyone over here in, the other being provided by a friend of Boone's, Niko Bellic. (What they don't know, when they start this plan, is that on their way out, they'll find another person who is willing and able to help them fly people out of this hellhole.)
Their target? The slaver who took Kazuhira, and all of his asshole slaving friends. The snipers will take out any of them they can, and the ground team will take out the leftovers. Saving the systems they're going to scramble by porting them over to storage to take back to the ship is also key -- not for any strategic reason, but because if they're going to be saving Users, they should try to save programs, too.
... well. Here's fucking hoping, right?
When: The end of July
Where: The Outpost
What: Let's Fuck Up Some Slavers
Warnings: NPC murder, violence, slavery, mentions of sexual slavery, the Tronverse sucks, others likely pending
Other: This is the song that was stuck in my head when I wrote this up. I'm sorry. Also, treat this as a general catch-all post! Thread out what you want, handwave what you want, let's just have fun with this!
The plan Elle puts together is, admittedly, not terribly detailed, but she trusts Kazuhira to have their backs. But the general shape of her plan is this:
The wastelanders are to split up into two sniper teams, one of two and one of three. (The buddy system is vital, Elle thinks. No one should be in territory that could turn against them by themselves.) Elle herself, along with Rinzler and Nihlus, form the ground team, tasked with breaking and entering, taking out leftover hostiles at close-range, and scrambling communications and tracking systems. Kazuhira will be providing radio support to everyone, maintaining contact, providing details, giving out warnings, generally overseeing and keeping it all organized. They have two transports set up for taking the rescues back to the Moira, one of them being the one Rinzler flew everyone over here in, the other being provided by a friend of Boone's, Niko Bellic. (What they don't know, when they start this plan, is that on their way out, they'll find another person who is willing and able to help them fly people out of this hellhole.)
Their target? The slaver who took Kazuhira, and all of his asshole slaving friends. The snipers will take out any of them they can, and the ground team will take out the leftovers. Saving the systems they're going to scramble by porting them over to storage to take back to the ship is also key -- not for any strategic reason, but because if they're going to be saving Users, they should try to save programs, too.
... well. Here's fucking hoping, right?
for Elle | let me know if anything here doesn't work for you
Out around the edges of the market he's found a few individuals looking for more of a thrill than that afforded by buying and selling lives-- and much as he'd rather deal with that with his fists, he's trying to strategize.
Which is why he's bought himself into a game with a crate of Corellian brandy, why he's crouched in some awful alley with a crowd around him-- mostly onlookers, sleepy-eyed browsers and buyers, though on either side of the circle stand the rest of their bets-- a couple of terrified, unfamiliar aliens who've ended up in Han's lot, at least for the moment, and a much larger crew still owned by his opponent.
So, you know, no pressure as he takes a breath and casts his handful of chance cubes.
it's all good!!
Figuring out some way to have things to barter with is also important, just in case they need to bribe anyone. Elle doesn't know how willing she is to part with anything she has that could be valuable; if it's valuable, it's because she needs it. But if she can get a feel for the kinds of things people trade for, gamble for, then maybe she'll be able to find something she is willing to give away when it comes down to it.
Which is how she's come to join the people hovering around Han's game. Elle recognizes him, not just because of his MID, but because of his picture in the directory. (She had wanted to double-check what his name was when she was writing in her journal about their conversation on the network.) She can see what he's trying to do, here, and she's grateful. But she's equally worried. Because she's all too familiar with the many, many ways a gambling session can go... uh, wrong. She feels hyper-aware of her pistol's presence on her hip.
She bites her thumbnail as she watches him throw the dice. Please, please, please, please...
no subject
The carved cubes rattle and bounce, a helpful (if somewhat overly-interested) onlooker counting out the marks, announcing a tie. Murmurs of scattered amusement and disappointment ripple through the crowd as his opponent straightens up a bit, offering to up the stakes for the next throw.
"I think I'm good," he declines, waving off the offered handful of dice. The slaves look terrified, and though he might be willing to risk them if he felt confident, something about the alien's eyes makes him think his luck would take a poor turn.
That's enough to make half the onlookers wander off, grumbling.
Let's Snipe!
"This all feels really appropriate because, you see, I got this gun off the body of a slaver in D.C. I like that it's been repurposed for good, anti-slave, pro-not-slave things." He's lying. The rifle is one of Tinker Tom's creations.
matching icon club
Through his scope, he can get a good look at most people's faces. He lets his gaze linger on a few people, but he's looking specifically for the man who grabbed both him and Kaz. At least, he's assuming he was grabbed by the same person. They went for two guys with obvious similarities in appearance, subdued them both in similar ways, and dumped them in the same cell.
He just grunts in response to Deacon's comment at first. After a few moments though, he responds properly.
"You killed him?"
He's just taking Deacon's word for it. Which is a bad idea in the majority of cases, but he doesn't know that yet.
deacon just needs a beret...
The slaver who took Deacon has already been dealt with, but he's happy to join in the hunt for the red-haired man who took Boone and Miller, and chat (i.e. bullshit) with Boone while they did their bloody work.
"I didn't go looking for him or anything. Like, I hadn't planned to start a fight, I was supposed to be there for recon only. Low profile shit. But I saw him beating up on this girl, couldn't have been more than thirteen, fourteen years old, and I just lost it, walked up and popped a couple 10mms in his face. Unfortunately, he had friends and they came running out of the shack at the sound of gunfire and things got a little hairy there for a while. It was a good lesson in 'next time, plan this stuff out.' I'm lucky I got out of that alive. But I did and I got a sweet rifle out of it too."
well he can already make hair appear from thin air
"That kinda thing got me in trouble back home, too. If I saw a legionary, I shot first and asked questions later. Ended up having assassins sent to kill us. Didn't work out so well for them, either."
In Boone's opinion, they were just making things easier for him. By all means keep sending those small, manageable groups of legionaries with nice, easy to sell weapons in his direction.
no subject
He sees a flash of red through his scope and focuses on it. Nah, just a bandana. Damn.
no subject
Couldn't take them all down, no. That left an unwelcome feeling, a sense of helplessness. Knowing what Cipher could do always made him feel like that. It was offensive at its core, corrupting, anger that sank it's roots into the brain and took over someone's mind. And he knew from experience, from Skull Face, this wouldn't make him feel like less of an object, less used. He knew from experience this wouldn't return his ability to trust or repair that damage to his sense of safety, slowly regained all this time, stripped once more.
But it would feel good for the twenty seconds he saw this asshole bleed out.
Kaz had been mostly staying in one of the transports, compiling information on a pad of paper (sure there was MIDs but this felt more natural), calmly taking in any information that came to him. He hadn't went up to Med Bay for the burn on his back, the spiraling brand that had marked the intentions of some disgusting woman. He'd wait. This was more important.
Leave it to Kazuhira Miller to deny himself self-care in the face of immanent revenge. And when they came to tell him that the prey was caught, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. It wouldn't fix things, but it would scratch the itch.
snipesnipesnipe
But she ain't much good at counting, so she doesn't. You've just gotta be able to count to one. So when she's up to about three ones, she's feeling pretty good about all this, even though there's still plenty of ones left to go. It's like clockwork, if there were any that worked, like a machine, the kind that kills commies, the kind she's carrying right about now. This ain't a time for Paciencia. It's a time for evening up the score.
"We oughta do this more often."
text > Rinzler, way at the start of all this
text; encrypted
...suffice to say, Rinzler has doubts.]
Reason?
action > Nihlus, also towards the beginning
She's alternating between checking her MID and checking her Pip-Boy, switching from one to the other as she makes and compares notes. But she doesn't stop walking whenever she does this, habits from the wasteland, which means she isn't entirely looking where she's going half the time.]