War Pigs: Origins, II

Joeyray's Bar
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"He got shot in the knee."
I groan a bit and try to move.
"Last time I go to that bar..." I say halfway conscious still very delirious from the blood loss.
"Whoa ... your OK. Just stay laying down for now." I say to James before getting an IV bag and hooking it into his elbow. "That'll help with some of the blood loss but your going to need to drink a lot for a while before you're back up to snuff."
I groan again trying to sit up.
"After this I think drinking is the last thing I need. What the hell happened to me?" I asked still obviously out of it.
Leaning over, I smack James across the cheeks a couple times lightly. "Oi, druggy, wake up. You're a War Pig, not some washed up drunk. Take some pride in a bullet to the knee." I almost break out laughing when the words leave my mouth. If he took me seriously, I'd need to sit him down and have a long chat with him.
"I wouldn't recommend hitting me again. Not unless you prefer to lose that arm."
Slowly things start to come back into reality.
"Ugh... feels more like I had someone bash my knee in rather than shoot it."
"That was a quick justification for mass murder."

The words leaped from Steven's mouth before he could catch them and cram them back down his throat. He found himself unable to look at Bianca or Alison. He meant what he said, but nobody in the right state of mind would have said it then and there.

The armory's door slid open and Brock walked clumsily through. His CMC had taken several minor beatings and had all new scratches and dents. Though he heard Svenson's remark, decided to play it off as if he didn't. He silently approached the machine that would take off his armor and began the process.
Alison stands silent for a moment before stepping out;
"That it is. Nor does it change anything. War is war. People are going to die. Its what happens. Simple as that."

She states, grabbing her knife and slipping it into her belt sheath. Heading for the door, Alison pauses and looks over at Brock;
"Capt? Once we're safely out of dodge, I'd like to hold a team-wide meeting. There's some things I think we all need to talk about.."
There's another cheap explanation for mass murder... Damn confeds...

Svenson just folded his arms and remained silent. Alison didn't seem like a smart person to piss off. Especially on the thin ice he was already standing on. He followed her steps towards the door and dropped his arms.

"Don't worry." Brock replied, "We definitely have things to talk about." Climbing out of the machine CMC-less, he clutches his sore wrists.
I grumble under my breath as I exit the machine my CMC armor removed. I then exit the armory without bothering to look at Alison, Svenson or Brock.

"No fighting you two or I'll pump you full of sedatives in a very uncomfortable place." I threaten as I finish repairing James' knee as best I could. "That is going to need a better doctor or a good deal of time to finish healing fully."
Alison nods;
"Good. I'd like to do that before we head back for Tarsonis; once we've cleared the war-zone of course."

Gesturing for Steve to follow, She heads for the mess hall. Partway there, Alison stops and turns to Svenson;
"Tell me, If you could kill me and get away-scot free, would you?"

She asks, frank.
---[Brock Tailor]---

Brock gave Alison a nod before following her and Steve out. He turned and walked into the infirmary to check on Hank and James, catching the end of James threat, then Carah's follow up threat.

Carah's threat was more impressive than James'. After such a fine line, Brock didn't even need to say anything. He had to suppress the grin that begged to emerge. Good to see Carah is fitting in.

"How you boys doin'?"

---[Steven Svenson]---

The question took Steve off guard. He blinked a few times, making sure his senses didn't fail him.

"I'm a soldier, not a murderer." He responded honestly. His quick answer surprised even him.

----[Natalie Ross]---

Natalie lay collapsed on the pilot's chair. Her hands were still shaking from the near-death encounter she, and all the War Pigs, had just experienced. The Silico had been pushed to it's limits. It was a miracle she didn't implode. An absolute miracle. Had Natalie been a more experienced pilot, she would have never taken those risks. And, in affect, they all would have died.

{Co-pilot to cockpit, please, co-pilot to cockpit.}

She would need Rob to help her conduct a systems-check. Plus she needed a break from flying. It was time for a cold shower.

OOC: Sneak, I can give Rob a moment to shine as a pilot if you'd like and you're active enough.
what nothing in response to Carah's threat?
To be honest, for some reason, I only read Bianca's section of your post. I'm a horrible person.

Yet another edit on the way.

Edit- Post #372 is finalized.
Alison nods:
"Fair enough. Now try looking at what I had to deal with: You're part of a strike team sent to assassinate the rebel leader. You've falling back to your evac point where you'll have to hold out against the Zerg until your ship shows up. The only problem is the pro-rebel civvie miners hiding out in your evac point. Your CO has told them to shove off and make a run for it. They push back and say no. What do you do? Do you support your CO or ignore them and risk getting shot in the back? They may be civilian non-combatants, but they are pro-rebel and just well armed enough to give you trouble. If they do, the Zerg will tear you a new one in the chaos. You also have a pair of wounded team-mates who are incapable of fighting. Their lives are in your hands. The Zerg are rapidly closing in and you have 10 seconds to make up your mind. Indecision is death. Go. 10... 9... 8..."
"They'll live. No thanks to their idiocy." I say working to clean up the med bay and get acquainted with some of its systems. "They should be good enough to walk around some by the time we get to where ever the hell our final destination is. Though I don't suggest letting James try to do much walking without having someone with a bit more experience take a look at that knee."
OOC: Yeah sure let's do it :D

Rob was sliding off the last of his armor when he heard the announcement. His finger was disinfected and bandaged, albeit slightly messily.

{Yeah, hearing you Natalie. I'll be there in a sec.}

He quickly grabs his jacket from his locker and then slams it shut, heading over to the pilot room.

Upon arrival he gives a high-spirited wave with his four-fingered hand to Natalie.

"Hey! Here at last. Sorry for the delay had to take care of this problem..." Rob stares at his hand. "Of uh... an insufficient amount of fingers. Heh. Yeah. Anyway what was needed?"
The empty cup hits the back of Carah's head, forcing her to turn around. What she see's is my eyes glaring right into her's. "My 'idiocy' saved not only Captain Taylor's life, but yours as well." Standing up despite her words, I head for the door, my legs wobbly, but easy to ignore. "Casualties happen whether you can or can't save them, Carah. Make peace with that." Going around the Captain, I head for the room, intent on getting a new set of cloths so I could change out of my blood soaked ones.

Taking on an enemy sniper, Ghost or no, is dangerous, but it has to be done. One life isn't worth more than the squads... I notice Alison talking with who looks like our tank driving friend and snort, continuing down the hall with barely a second thought. "Rebel filth," I mutter, opening the door to where my bunk and clothes are and stepping in, closing it behind me.

Looking around, I let off a small sigh as I take off my bloodied tan white beater and looking at the scars that had formed courtesy of the med laser. Two on my abdomen, marking the bullet wounds, and one in my shoulder, marking the point the knife went in at. My legs would be fine, they weren't what got hit. My left shoulder, however, was a whole different matter. Lifting the arm, a small shooting pain goes down my arm, earning a grunt and a wince from me. Great...

Throwing the torn and bloodied white beater to the side, I dig through my drawers for another one and a clean pair of camo pants along with some socks. Then I'd have to clean my kukri and my boots.
"I have ..." I murmur as I kneel to pick up the cup. "Don't bother trying to get him back." I say to the captain while standing back up and setting the cup in the sink.
I scoff at Carah's threat.
"You would only be making my day."
I lay back on the bed and relax as my senses start to come back.

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