War Pigs: Origins, III

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A grin tugged at Natalie's face, but her mood and recent conversation wouldn't allow it to grow.

"Sure. I always love me a slice of pizza." Now a smile emerged, but only when she made eye contact with Alison. She would know it was just Natalie's way of covering what they were really talking about. And, admittedly, it had a slice of truth.

"Anyways, how have you been, Hank?" She asked, her gaze turning to him. She was beginning to truly love the War Pigs. Her social barriers had broken. She had now fully accepted being Natalie Ross, a War Pig. Now true relationship could grow. And why not start with Hank, the first man who had received a kiss from Natalie Ross? A shudder ran down her spine at the thought.
"Well, considering I slept without worry of our next mission for the first time in lord knows how long," I smile, a hand resting peacefully on a pistol grip, "pretty damn good. But if we're going to get food..." I stop and chuckle, shaking my head at the thought. "Man, when was the last time any of us had a REAL piece of pizza?"
IC:
Scratching her chin, Alison stares off into space for a moment;
"Hell... I don't know... sometime before I had the stupid idea of trying to get into the War Pigs; by the gods, what the hell was I thinking?... Anyway, it was probably about a year or so ago.."
"I haven't had a nice slice since... Well..." She thought back for a moment before remembering with a flicker of life behind her eyes. Her last good slice of pizza was on Brontes. It was a date with Senator Porter at a pizzeria. Of course, they couldn't really call it a date, but that's what it was. All at once, Natalie forgot she was mid-sentence and stopped talking as if she had never began.

Natalie turned her chair back to the controls of the Silico, content to let her answer be unfinished. She accelerated the thrusters after confirming the auto-pilots course, all with the flick of a few fingers. She was satisfied with the light conversation for once. It was sort of a nice change.

The door to the bridge opened and Captain Brock Tailor walked through. Sleep was written all over his face. He was dressed in casual clothes, ready for negotiation with whomever they would encounter at the spaceport.

"Natalie. Alison. Hank." The Captain acknowledged each of their presences with a nod. Natalie nodded back.

OOC:

Ah, it feels good to post multiple times in an hour when we're all online like this. It brings me back to some of our previous RP's where we'd fill a thread in a day :P
IC:
"Capt... or is it just Brock now?"
Alison asks with a nod and casual salute.
"I suppose that depends on who you ask." Brock replies, casting a sideways glance at Hank. "I'd like to still call us a military operation and therefore we respect the chain of command, but... I'm not sure how much power I really have."

Natalie approached the city slowly and steadily. She made preparations with the small starport via automated text rather than voice communication due to the size of the small port and the lack of real professionals on the job.
"Mercenaries are EX-military, Brock. Their chain of command is who's got the most experience, not who's got the highest rank." I take a deep drag. "Besides, right now, we're technically fugitives."
"But who the hell ever said we were mercenaries or fugitives?" Brock demanded. "We've been doing everything we've ever been told. In my years with the Confederacy, they treat their puppets well. I don't like being a puppet any more than you do, but hell, we'd be treated like damn fine puppets."

Brock took a breath.

"Come on, let's get ready to go down there. Natalie, you're with me, as you're technically the first officer." He turned for the door.
IC:
"Whatever happens, I'm not going back to the Confederacy; besides, between SoK and the Zerg I doubt they're going to last too much longer anyway... And Brock? there's one problem with being a puppet. The moment your masters decide you no longer have a use... Pfft! And your gone. And I don't know about you, but I think we've been crossed off the list."
Alison says making a slashing motion at her neck.
I take another long drag, slowly letting it out. "I'm with Alison. Our time as useful puppets is up. I don't think it was an accident they fired on us, regardless of Makins's work to get us loose."
Brock took a deep breath and burried his face in his hands. When his arms dropped, he responded.

"Maybe." He muttered, heading for the door. "Come on, we've got things to do." Natalie had docked the Silico on an open air-pad. It was exposed, but it was all the small town had. She rose and followed Brock out the door.
IC:
Standing up, Alison makes sure to tuck her knife up out of sight before following Natalie, arms folded and face impassive.
Rob hurriedly jogged behind the others as they leave the Silico.

"Hey Alison, Cap, Hank, Natalie," Rob yawns out.

He pauses to stretch out his right arm, then begins to roll his shoulder.

"Yeahhh sorry for the delay. I really, really didn't want to leave my bed," he recounts wistfully.
Leaving my weapons alone, I catch up to Brock and match his pace. "For the sake of our survival, we'll need some kind of cover story."
"Our real story is just fine. We're a band of undercover Confederate soldiers taken from the prison herd. Our business here is confidential." Brock spoke confidently and his gaze didn't acknowledge Hank's presence. He walked up to the ramp and lowered it. Natalie was at his right side while Hank to his left.

A Confederate Captain was there accompanied by two guards. Brock walked down the ramp, leading the War Pigs. He saluted the Captain,

"Captain Brock Tailor of the Silico. We're here on confidential Confederate business." The man eyed Brock, then the rest of the War Pigs.

"The Silico is tagged as a Confederate ship, but according to our files, you resigned from the armed forces three years ago." Brock fidgeted.

"True. I was reinstated due to a critical emergency. I have it under control." The man eyed Brock again for a long hard ten seconds before nodding.

"Sergeant, put this in the logs." The man walked away, allowing the War Pigs to walk out of the landing area and into the dusty streets of the colonial city. Steve Svenson pushed his way to the front and led Brock to his apartment complex, which was walking distance away.
IC:
Alison disappears into the back of the 'Pigs group, watching their rear out of habit before catching back up to Steve;
"What's this place like? Any criminal element?"
She asks him quietly.
I grumble under my breath about a lack of conspicuousness and follow close by, placing my hand on one of my slug throwers when a cut purse looks my way.
Rob continues to walk with the group.

"Still not a fan, guys," he mutters quietly, "That captain was totally on to us. And they got us on record now."
"I know, Rob. Not necessarily ideal. But we'll make it through." The captain followed Svenson as he whispered back to Alison.

"Criminal element? It's a little small for that. Sure, there are the college punks who think they're all that, but nothing we can't handle."
IC:
Alison grunts and nods;
"Good. That should mean we're the most dangerous people around.."

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