★ ▬ THE.REVOLVING.MEMORANDUM [sci-fi » lit.] o/f

[Pearlholy]

Watching the citizen scramble around from the height she stood made them look like disorganized ants. Though soon enough, armed brigades will find themselves amongst those ants. Whether they were allowed to die or not rested in the hand of the Great Leader. Years ago, that thought never bothered the fifth member of the first brigade. Today, Diamond Lee wasn’t certain that she still took pride in such nihilistic life style.

She heard her name. Pulling her gaze away from the window, the brigade looked back at where the voice originated from. Her office had a high-tech metal door but it seemed to be fabricated thinly; she could still hear the Captain’s hesitant voice very clearly. Or maybe it became a natural instinct over the years to be more attentive and sensitive to her superior’s voice.

There were only two possible reasons for Ebony to approach her. It was either for professional reasons or… non-work related reasons. Obviously. When the Captain had something of utmost importance to talk about, he would bulge into her office and would never lose a heartbeat to explain or discuss the matters at hand. However, when he tried to pursue an association that stretched beyond a Captain-subordinate relationship, well… he wouldn't act as aggressively. He would act like a little innocent child that was clumsily testing uncharted territories, scared to make mistakes. Ebony wasn’t standing in front of her office’s door as her Captain; there was hesitance in his voice. And then there was a familiar sense of dread that came over her. Diamond was never good with socialization… even less with Ebony. His loyalty to Hadrian often intimidated her.

The captain of the first brigade called her out a second time. Very quickly, she began weighting out the options of what she could do: run away or pretend she wasn’t there at all. But what if her assumptions were wrong? What if the Captain needed to see her for important reasons? Even if she was busy, Diamond had to find time to listen—as it’s her duty as his subordinate.

With reluctance, Diamond pushed herself away from the window and walked closer to the chair. Diamond slipped on her leather coat and grabbed the offline tablet that was on the desk, turning it on (though made sure nothing was being displayed on the hologram). The door slide opened for Ebony to walk into a non-personalized and very empty room. Diamond met him half-way with a formal salute. “Captain!” She waited for him to acknowledge her greeting and continued with a smile, “You know… the door’s always open for you.” The brigade’s smile broadened as she glanced at his hair. “Rough morning, Sir?”

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[commander yoo]

CONVINCE YOURSELF TO BE SOMEONE ELSEcountmeinWHAT YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE INcountmeinDICTATES YOUR RISE OR FALLcountmein
CONVINCE YOURSELF TO BE SOMEONE ELSEcountmeinWHAT YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE INcountmeinDICTATES YOUR RISE OR FALLcountmein




When the conference room was filled with the chattering rebel officials, there were a few lengthy minutes before the rebel leader presented himself. As the mechanical doors finally did split open, five figures entered the room one after the other, aligning themselves in a perfect line and coming to a simultaneous halt; not with strict military precision, but a manner of order and structure that was rarely so explicit among the rebellion. Two figures stood on each of Opus’ side: the barren, rough, scarred military leader Bauer, the pale, gray-haired strategic advisor Murphy, dark-skinned and dark-eyed scouting specialist Stone, and Riggs: the man of average appearance but sharp tongue, not to mention self-proclaimed ambassador of the rebellion.

The men, along with Opus, offered those seated very curt and official salutes, before continuing down silently to the end of the table. The specialists took their seats beside Kezia, while Opus froze in front of his. He did not sit, nor did he offer those gathered a second look. The rebels present, from his very first glance when entering the room, seemed more lax than he would have liked.

"I will try not to waste our time. That’s the one thing we are running very low on." The doors of the conference room released a click; locking shut and preventing anyone from interrupting their event. Most of the war had already been meticulously planned out, and rebel troops were already leaving the headquarters to their military camps. The rebels gathered to this particular meeting were summoned for a different set of orders. "Matters are pressing and we are facing war. One that, statistically, we should lose. And one that, statistically, you all should die in."
"However, we have a strategy. And that is why you are all here. To save any discussions or arguments: yes, this is our only option, and yes, you are all obligated to partake. We have measured and calculated every possible twist and turn, and these are the only line of events that give us even a remote possibility to win. It is our only way. "
Taking a breath, Opus swept the palm of his hand across the table. A hologram map appeared at the center of it, flashing blue and red on areas of a map of Brittania.
"Our plan is very delicate and precise, so I need your full attention. It won’t be an easy task to fulfill, but if we manage to pull off everything that we’ve done – we can win this battle. Our troops have been informed to lay down their lives for our cause and strike at every enemy they see on the field. You, on the other hand, will have a slightly different protocol to follow."

"Kezia, you and Tenné shall lead the main squadron of troops. You will meet Sceras' troops on the battlefield, face-to-face. Naturally, your goal is to disallow them to progress. Our chances of defeating them there are slim. They are armed to the teeth with better equipment, and we simply wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d crush us, quickly."
The red dots are suddenly being pushed back, into a dark green area on the map.
"That’s why we push them back into the forests. From this area, the turrets that our engineers have armed the wall with will have easy fire access. Along with our tanks, they won’t have any option but to retreat to gain distance, otherwise their forces will be obliterated by our sheer gunfire. That is your team’s first goal – defend the turrets and tanks, so that you can successfully push back the brigades into the woods."
"Since we are lightly equipped, we will gain enormous advantages by fighting in the forested area. We have studied them immensely, so maneuvering strategically will give us exceptional coverage. Stone has updated all of our maps of the forest area with clear navigation points and easy access to high and low areas for both defense and offence."

Bauer rose in his seat and extended his hand towards the map, highlighting an area left of the battlefield.
"That is when Prometheus strikes. Now, we are lucky that your involvement in Carthage has seemingly slipped public knowledge, because its very likely that Sceras and his legion won't be expecting your arrival. You will wing them from the side, and eliminate everything. Give no room to flee, and crush them with all your manpower. We want them crippled to a fault. Unfortunately, the task of being the final nail in the coffin is up to you... It's likely we'll be relying on you to swing this battle in our favor." Bauer's face darkened, as he did not put much faith in those who had not served him long. Prometheus was still an organization he did not fully trust, however, he was wise enough to recognize a tremendous ally. As Opus spoke up, he removed his troubled gaze from Nemo's, facing the map once again.

"Boyan, I want you and Lord to be with Prometheus. That way I have two of my best agents on both sides of the situation. Be their eyes and their sword, understood?" Opus slid his hand over the panal, the image zooming out to a still. "Scarlet, you will be given command of your own medic team. I will want you at the front lines, behind Kezia's legion. Tend to the injured, get them out to safety. Make sure to stay out of the heat of battle. And, finally, Dixon - your help is needed anywhere you can offer it, whether it's here behind the scenes, or helping the soldiers at our military stations near the war-zone. I trust your judgement."
Opus pausedd, as if attempting to recollect his thoughts. Riggs, who had up to this point been standing calmly, arms linked behind his back, took a step forwards to address the crew. "This battle is incredibly important. Not only will we cripple Hadrian’s forces and civilian morale, but we will also gain incredible territory and influence over the public. All of this is a giant step closer to Epsilon, and the very outcome of the rebellion rests on us - and you - performing our very best.”
Alice’s voice sparks up unexpectedly, but none of the admirals protest against her speaking. "If we execute everything according to plan, we will have an impressive upper hand during the remainder of the war. Our chances of winning will go up by forty eight percent. Such a ratio of success has never before been achieved in any battles of the rebellion, even the ones that have ended in victory.”

"I will be in the war room along with our generals, assessing the situation. I will have direct communication with all of you, and keep you updated on any changes." For a moment, Opus fell silent, staring at the map with a strange fire in his eyes. "You will leave early tomorrow morning.

As for now...

Do you have any questions?"





XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX




Giyari




Pearlholy




Yuuki of the Strata




lycain




Mintiia




The Fae Consort

[commander yoo]

xxxxxx
✘ HADRIAN'S OFFICeX ✘ HADRIANX ✘ xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx



As immaculate as the Leader's plans always were, that day Eosiria was in doubt. She sat in perfect stillness, face bare of emotion. It was rare for the frst cabinet to ever feel strong emotion regarding tactics, as they were usually based on calculations, and calculations were hardly ever wrong. But the events at Carthage had left a bitter imprint on her.

"Certainly." She responded mechanically, but did not remove her orbs from the glass pamphlet in her grasp. Alexander's face and the hot flames of the carriage riled in her thoughts, reminding her that they had underestimated the Black Knights once. They had been caugh off guard. They had mistaken. Error was unforgivable.

At Hadrian's final words, Eosiria finally raised her head, her eyes meeting his. Her expression remained clouded, unclear. She watched the Leader intently, but her gaze was as obscure as his. At first glance, it was as if the first cabinet was attempting to decrypt Hadrian's emotions, but in fact, she never even pulled such an attempt. For it was clear as day to the woman that he was not a book easily read, not to anyone but himself.

"Of course." She speaks suddenly, her tone cold, but words slow. There is a subtle hint of intimate pliancy in her voice, only ever there when she speaks to him alone. "There is no room for failure. I have complete certainty in you."



commander space jesus

[Occidentis]

I'm gonna fight 'em off
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talkin' to myself at night
Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette

Ҟameko slid the shower door closed with a sigh, her towel wrapped tight around her body. It felt nice, to finally clean the battle off of her skin. Well, more of Darryl's blood off of her skin. It was just plain discomforting to watch it swirl down the drain with the blood of rebels as well. The flashbacks of it all was.. disturbing to say the least, but nothing that wouldn't blend into the rest of the scenery of the battle. It's not as if she would loose sleep over it.

Her hands moved to thread through the cotton pink hair, swirling it up into a bun utop her head to remove it from her face. Kameko's eyes wondered in the mirror over the stressed forehead, her fingers coming up to rub away at the wrinkles and make a groaning noise in dissatisfaction. "You need different hobbies Kameko. It's weird when peoples limbs are blown off and you're fine."

The woman sighed off at herself, before her eyes flicked to her wrists. A deep brown and blue discoloration from the suit had taken it's tole on the dainty bones. Nothing that wouldn't fade away soon. She moved from her bathroom to slip on just a simple sweater, nothing complex, and a pair of shorts. Comfortable and satisfied, she slid to her couch. Darryl was fine and alive, the rest of the team was living it up, and now she just wanted to sleep. The warrior could feel the bags on her eyes like they were literal sand, weighing down her face. Without much effort, she was sinking into the couch, face pressed up against the arm of it to sleep away the wary and worry of the past few hours.

Not soon after Kameko's taunting phone buzzed. She let out a groan in protest, letting it ring at her a few more times. She considered ignoring it completely, fanning ignorance. They were used to her doing that now, not truly being the social one to go out and get completely shitfaced for giggles. However, she did have a team member in the hospital with no leg and if the message was about Darryl she would feel like the scum on earth if she ignored it. So instead, with heavy limbs, she dragged herself from her personal throne and slipped her fingers around the device, sliding it to the message with a passing of her thumb.

"Huh.. titty twister.. bed.. teammates.. sleep.." The woman debated this with herself, weighing the prose and cons before deciding, yeah she needs to go. Things are going down tomorrow and it doesn't hurt to bond before battle, even if her bed was whispering her name sweetly. So she heaved herself to her room to get dressed respectively, making sure to be her usual prime and perfect self, even if that's not what she felt. With the last heel slipped on she made her way down the stairs and to the titty twister.

It really took no time at all for her to get there, her apartment was in the middle of the city so it was close to everything. Her tiny frame pressed open the door, glancing around curiously to find any of the eighth brigade waiting around.

I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera forevermore
I'm gonna work the straw
Make the sweat drip out of every pore
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding
Right before the lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will think no more

Simulacrinomicon

XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX

[graphing calculator]

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AUT VINCERE AUT MORI ♟♙ EITHER TO CONQUER OR DIE ♟♙ LONG LIVE LEADER HADRIAN, MAY HE BRING GREAT GLORY TO THE UNITED REPUBLICS!
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LOCATION In front of Diamond's office MOOD: Conflicted COMPANY: Alone
█ An aching pain tensed the Captain's neck as he rotated his head to crack the tension away. Sleep had not come easy to him in the past weeks. The cold emptiness on the other side of his bed was unforgivingly chilling. Ebony reaches a hand to rub the sore muscles at the base of his neck and a soft groan escapes past his lips before he sighs. The Captain of the First Brigade had many duties apart from simply maintaining his form and following orders. He looked into the mirror before him and practiced a smile, a familiar sight to fellow soldiers who relished in his joy, optimism and loyalty to the regime. Ebony had seen and experienced torture that would break the average man into pieces, yet the fact that he could be a beacon of inspiration despite such trials was an ideal in which maintenance was of the utmost importance. And so, as his eyes blinked and squeezed themselves shut and open again, Ebony cracks his knuckles to continue another day.

Ebony is not a liar. During certain times, he hides, as does every other human being with a secret, but he does not lie. His smile is practiced, but not fake. His optimism is painfully tried and true, and to such a virtue he is proud. He receives several proud nods and formal salutes as he walks through the halls of the Brigade's headquarters, and to every single one, there is a greeting, there is acknowledgment. Strangers, at times, seemed kinder than his closest comrades.

When Ebony dreamed of becoming Captain, he envisioned three things: adorning Hadrian's insignia upon his armor, the glory of serving the Leader himself, and developing lasting relationships with the four he would call his Brigade. Deaths cut friendships short, abrasive attitudes turned them impossible, and some things made deeper connection difficult. Love, on the other hand, made friendship unwanted. Ebony did not expect to fall in love with anything other than his duties.

With a conflicted heart, he finds himself in a familiar place. Here Ebony stands, in front of the office of the First Brigade's very own Diamond Lee. How many times am I going to do this, he wonders, but he doesn't really want an answer. A long time would be the answer the optimist in him would give.

A war will rage on. He will see graduated soldiers step into the battlefield for the first time only to die inglorious deaths and written off as mere numbers. Some will become heroes, some will become slaughtered cattle, Ebony cared little for which one he was, so long as he was useful to Hadrian. He did care, however, of what would become of Diamond. The knuckles of his tightly clenched fist lightly press against the door without a sound. A held breath prepares him to knock, and when the repeated sound comes in a set of three, he sets his hand down immediately and stands straight. He doesn't know if his hair looks alright, but he dare not try to fix it now that he's put his hand down. It would be terribly embarrassing if Diamond opened the door to him primping himself.

"Diamond..." Comes the quiet voice, "Diamond...?" He calls once more, attempting to sound a little less pathetic the second time around. "It's me."--Stupid, she knows it's you.--"Are you busy?" And so he waits.
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AUT VINCERE AUT MORI ♟♙ EITHER TO CONQUER OR DIE ♟♙ LONG LIVE LEADER HADRIAN, MAY HE BRING GREAT GLORY TO THE UNITED REPUBLICS!
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█ ooc:



Pearlholy

[graphing calculator]

HADRIANAUGUSTUSSCERAS || HIS OFFICE ◆ EOSIRIA VON YALLAE
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⇨ For the twenty-third time that afternoon, Hadrian had revised the meticulous plans for war off the top of his head. Notes, documents, and statistics are laid out in neat lines, like digital grids of text and graphs, though not a single one of them is referenced for the sake of his practice. Each round of recital, Hadrian is posed a question, one asked by the First Cabinet, and another asked by a computer system which mathematically analyzes his thoughts and plans. For everything that could be accounted for, for everything that was known to be truth, his plan was immaculate.

As Hadrian finishes the final repeat, his eyes often shift from maps and numbers to the face of Eosiria, who sits stone-faced in the prospect of work. She is unblinking, her long eyelashes curled outward in perfect inverse arches and blacker than ink. They did not flutter once, though the sight of them reminded Hadrian of carnivorous, trapping plants. Eosiria was like a statue, one sculpted out of a perfect ideal. Yes, she is perfect. Everything is as it should be.

"The flanking divisions of the Brigades will allow for trapping and better area coverage." His eyes return to markings on a digital map which animate military movement and mobility. "Signals immune to any communication discrepancies will allow for greater control of what is to be expected." The blue light of the screen casts a soft glow in his golden eyes before shutting off with a virtual clicking sound.

Had he chosen the path of robotics and cybernetics, there would be no need for such repeated practice. There would be no need to process anything beyond whatever system afforded can handle--but in this, he loses his humanity, and the capacity to rule above mere mortal men. The sight of Eosiria was not a distraction to him, but an inspiration. She exists as the muse for his wars, both in the battlefield and in speech. How did he exist to her? A proprietor of a better, more perfect world? Perhaps, but he does not dwell on this long. Her loyalty is, without a doubt, unquestionable and immeasurable. "That is all." He informs her of the obvious, a mere closing statement for the sake of it. The quiet rattle and smooth whirring sounds of robotic servants pour steaming tea into two cups on a small round table beside the First Cabinet.

No words are exchanged between the pair. The sound of Hadrian's shoes stepping against the tiles of his office echoes in the large room as he takes steps towards the large glass window, his hands behind his back. "This is just the beginning, Eosiria. There is so much more to do... So much more to accomplish." The sight of his back and the faint refection of his covered face in the window was common to many, but not the First Cabinet. Before long, Hadrian turns around once more, his eyes resting upon Eosiria in the same way his vision stole perspective of her during his memorization test.

"Yet you seem perfect, unbothered by it all." A light remark, delivered in the same tone as every other word he enunciates. "There appears to be just as much to learn." A fair distance exists between them. Only their eyes meet.

A glint of emotion rests within the Leader's eyes, though even to Eosiria, it cannot be discerned.
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ooc:


commander yoo

[Kira_Infinite]

紫
色
の
火

PROMETHEAN - - - PYROMANIAC
☻ ☷☷☷ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☷☷☷ ☻
[Location: Conference room] ☷☷☷ [Company: Too many people]
Trying to not have an Anxiety Attack

_____________________________
____________

Nura subconsciously pushed back in her chair as other rebels began to file into the room, biting her lip beneath her mask. The moment of tension had passed, and luckily none of the newcomers take much note of her, allowing her a sigh of relief and a chance to look more closely upon them. Most noticeably was at the forefront of the arrivals and notably several decibels louder than the others. Nura scooted back in her chair, unconsciously trying to lower herself out of view, intimidated. This woman seemed like everything Nura was not: confident, social, and she had a cool rainbow mohawk… Nura thought back a moment trying to remember the descriptions of the Black Knights Personnel that she had been briefed on earlier in the week. Her gaze continued on as she matched stares with a tough looking, eyepatch clad man and immediately looked away despite the mask covering her face in embarrassment.

The pyro’s stomach did a hard twist as the rainbow haired rebel began to ask about the events of Carthage. She knew it was coming, but rather than prepare herself for the series of tough questions before the meeting, Nura had spent her time fending off her social anxiety about it fixing up her flamethrower. As the man with the eyepatch began to detail the situation he nodded towards the Prometheans, causing Nura to ‘literally almost die and dig her hands into her chair with an iron grip.

It only got worse.

’Shitshitshitshitshit I knew this was going to happen...’ The nightmares Nura had been storming up prior to the meeting came true. The rainbow head’s reaction to eyepatch’s description of Carthage struck sheer terror into the pyro’s heart as she directed her fury at the three Prometheans, causing Nura to jump in her seat as her fist made contact with the table.

’She’s going to have us burned at the stake - or beheaded…or... something! This was a bad idea.’ She thought, knowing full well such things probably wouldn’t happen… Probably... Her mind became loud with fears, excuses… anything she could do say to get the heat off of her. Nerves pumping and unsure how to react, Nura turned her gaze from her lecturer and towards Nemo for help. Amazingly enough, she seemed so unphased despite the onslaught of guilt being thrown at them. She must have noticed Nura’s discomfort, as Nemo pulled and flicked a zippo before her without so much as a glance away from Kez, placing it on the table before her.

Nura exhaled sharply, a hiss sounding from her gas mask as she stared, focused, at the small flame. After a moment, the First Brigadier’s words began to fade from her immediate perception and Nura reached forwards and quickly grabbed the zippo and brought it to her lap, flicking it once again and watching the sparks fly. It somewhat helped to ease her tension; fire wasn’t affected by the words as easily as Nura. Neither was Nemo…

As her companion spoke unwaveringly Nura snapped back into the situation at hand. The now identified First Liberator’s fist still was hard on the table, though as Nemo spoke her expression gradually changed. Nura, however, dedicated her attention to Nemo- trying to find the words to support her ally but knowing she lacked the strength to say anything. Nemo blamed herself for the events of Carthage and herself alone, but in truth Nura and all the other Prometheans willingly followed… had they not agreed with Nemo, would they have? It may have been under Nemo’s plan - but it wasn’t only Nemo who took part in Carthage. Nura and the other Prometheans had taken action as well, the blame was to be shared. Besides, Nemo didn’t deserve it- she had changed since Nura had joined the rebellion. She had been through enough already. Frustrated, the pyro tightened her grip around the zippo, flicking it again in hope this would all be over already.

Feeling a hard on her arm, Nura looked up startled towards the hand, following the arm to Nemo. She hadn’t realized she had gotten so distracted again- though truth be told she was glad to have zoned out from the conversation.

"Nura.. Facial recognition is important amongst allies," Nemo spoke gently to the Pyro, who simply returned a blank expression as she tried to figure out what Nemo was talking about. Nemo gave her another look and gestured at her own face- mask absent. Nura took another few seconds of confusion before being hit with dread like a bag of bricks. She hated taking her mask off because there was no longer anything left for her to hide behind. Slowly and uncomfortably the pyro reached behind her head and pulled the mask off to reveal a sullen, embarrassed Nura, still hiding behind a layer of somewhat burned, un-kept purple hair sulking deep in her conference chair. This meeting needed to end already and it hadn’t even officially begun.

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☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷ ☻ ☷☷☷

☻[[OOC:Yush i have finally posted. Sorry if my format is all weird, Im working on like 0 bandwidth, so half the imgs on a page don't even load. Viva la Mexico]]

”Giyari”

”XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX”

”Yuuki of the Strata”

there’s too many of ya to quote you all. Deal.

[Simulacrinomicon]

╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱


Every once in a while Sunnifa was known to make a call that involved neither work nor alcohol. As spontaneous as Section 8's missions and deployments often were, there was rarely any vacation time outside the infirmary. So it was that the 8th Brigade's most impersonal personality was having a video conference with her mother. The conversation was always relatively mundane, but she felt the need all the same of fervently protecting the privacy of it. She was the only one among the 8th's designated bunks, and she had timed her call in a window where she could expect the others to be busy. The occasion for the call was Sunnifa's own birthday, only a few weeks late this time. From the aftermath of that celebration, she had mostly recovered by now.

Evidence of their charades remained, most readily, in the form of a picture that insisted on reappearing no matter how many times Sunnifa tried to get rid of it. Whether the photo was left on her bunk, or taped to a bed post, or to the door, or to the bathroom mirror, or some other place she had not noticed yet, whoever it was had still not tired of the joke. Considering her constituents, it was likely Sunnifa would be seeing a lot of that picture for a long time. The photo showed her companions atop the statue the Black Cat Square was named after. They had to have been a bit less drunk than she was, given the occasion. The focus of course was on Sunnifa herself, who had been trying to draw a knife across the cat's throat - to little effect. As much as she hated the figure, such drastic action was relatively rare. That night they had consumed things named after illicit substances and deadly ordinance, whose function it was to damage the health of sobriety.

Sunnifa made a point of not telling her mother about it.

The talk meandered from one short-lived topic to the next. The two women were too much alike to drag it out at all. Sunnifa spoke briefly on how things were with the team, how her work was going, how she was feeling - omitting the details that might point too directly toward anything other than 'fine.' What her mother said may as well have been a mirror. The events at Carthage were a hot topic. Morale was a bit low where she was, her mother had said. Sunnifa supposed that such a brazen rebel attack, even as colossal a failure as it was, could have that effect.

Every call her mother would ask if Sunnifa had met Hadrian, and the answer, of course, was always 'no.' At least, not without standing in a field of her peers. Their Dear Leader had far more important things with which to occupy his time.

"You should come home one of these days," she had been saying. "I'd like if I didn't miss all of your birthdays." Sunnifa never really took leave for the occasion, even before she joined the 8th. Back then though she sure as hell did not spend them as she did now. In the past she would never have dreamed of allowing herself to have anything less than total control of her faculties. It seemed like forever ago, even though it was not.

"Would if I could," Sunnifa replied, a half-truth. Binding herself to her work was an easy enough excuse, but if she fought a bit for the vacation time she might have been able to get it. She would prefer to avoid the whole affair.

For the first time in the conversation Sunnifa's mother seemed to pause whatever she had been doing and focus her attention on her daughter. Her expression was thoughtful, just a tiny bit concerned. Sunnifa knew what was coming even before the words came out. "That makes you forty-four now. Sun, you know-"

"-that this conversation isn't happening," she interrupted, somewhat less rudely than she would otherwise since it was her mother she was speaking to. It was another in a somewhat frequent series of attempts by her mother to convince her to retire from the Brigades. Her mother understood what it meant to her of course, and in any other situation the question would likely have never come up. But having a child in the 8th Brigade had a whole other connotation to it. That scared the s**t out of her. Despite how hard Sunnifa tried to think otherwise, it wasn't just that. The woman had seen what happened to Sunnifa after Pareon.

"Nobody would-"

"Mother! This conversation is not going to happen."

The older woman gave an exasperated sigh, flashing the deadly glare that Sunnifa had inherited from her. "I can't believe you managed to turn out even more stubborn than either your father or me!"

"That's all from you, mom."

Before she could respond, something off screen seemed to steal her attention. "I gotta go. Work," she declared suddenly before standing to walk off screen. "Come visit some time!" she shouted from across the room.

"Next chance I get," Sunnifa responded nominally.

"Love you," and then the call was cut off from the other end.

Sunnifa gave herself a moment to absorb the silence left over. Calls home always seemed to have that affect. Her thoughts traced over the conversation, considering things that she had not allowed herself to in the moment. She was forty-four now, though the number had never really meant much to her. It was a few years too many... though she did not dwell on such a gloomy train of thought. She drifted to memories of a better time. Her mother seemed happy.

Sunnifa stripped and headed for the showers. From the corner of her eye she saw the smug smirk of a younger person, a girl who thought she was invincible. She turned and saw the wear and tear take its place, the expression gone. The mirror exchanged no word with her as she stepped into the water.

She emerged reading Victor's message on her phone in one hand and flinging the photo she found on the bathroom door across the room with the other. Sunnifa allowed a single-breathed chuckle. Of course Darryl would escape about as soon as they plugged her leg in. What better place to find her? The thought of the physical therapy she had undergone after Pareon crossed her mind, though she had never lost limbs and was uncertain what sort of caution that warranted in comparison to a replicated muscle structure. Whatever the case, Darryl would likely make a point of being decidedly less so.

When she was dressed Sunnifa left the room and headed for the stairs. Titty Twisters was as good a place to wait as any.

╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱╱

[Giyari]

Kez listened through her bubbling temper as Nemo filled in the holes that Boyan either didn't remember, or care enough about to elaborate on. The target of the First Liberators outburst didn't seem to even flinch, a good sign that the woman was confident under pressure if nothing else, but as Nemo spoke, Kezia felt herself staring down at the table in front of her, at the slight marks left by her fists.

Nemo was right, the situation really wasn't any worse that it was before. Hadrian could have flattened their little peoples army at any time he wished if he put his mind to it, even with the advantage of choosing when to strike, the Black Knights would probably still be out-gunned on every front during open war, the only thing saving them right now was politics.

Kez glanced around the table at the slightly shocked stares in her direction, this was not how she should have acted. Closing her eyes she took in a deep breath, her hands unclenching as she let out a sigh. After a couple of seconds Kezia found her heart rate slowing back to a more acceptable level and her brow unfurrowing.

"I... You're right. I'm sorry." Kez spoke clearly as she took her seat once again. "You, you didn't deserve that. Everything you said sounds about right. We are sitting on a knife edge, we always have been... Sometimes it's hard to keep that on your mind." she added, running her hand over her multicoloured hair in a slight attempt to tidy it.

It was probably a fact that everyone would rather forget, the cause of too many sleepless nights, that their entire rebellion would no doubt hinge on something as unreliable as luck when the time came. Or that no matter how hard they fought, the war would no doubt be won thanks to propaganda and a political game of chess rather than the lives of friends that everyone will no doubt lose. It was these facts that no one really wanted to face, including Kezia.

Location: Coms room
Company: The Black Knights, and Prometheus
Mood: apologetic

XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX

[XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX]

Nemo

Mood: Run down
Company: Nura, Black Knight VIP's
Location: Stronghold - Conference Room

When Nura poked her head through the door Nemo's discerning eyes flitted to the woman's tinted mask. She could already picture the look of dread the pyro must have been feeling, and Nura's posture betrayed her apprehension. In an attempt to offer some modicum of comfort Nemo offered the other Prometheus member a friendly, yet tired, smile. In these foreign sectors all Prometheus had were themselves. There was still an atmosphere of unease between the two rebel factions now stationed in Atlias, but thankfully most hostilities had died off by now. 'Like the smoldering embers of someone's bed,' thought the woman dryly. Nemo's eyes took upon a distant look for a moment while Nura found her seat, thinking back on one specific act of malevolence she herself had orchestrated. In hindsight she should have reined in her vindictive nature, but at least Lord had given her some breathing room for a while after. People started to file in as she brought her thoughts back to the present.

Most faces she recognized. Either in passing, or from having done past joint operations with the Black Knights in the last few weeks. One grinning, eye patched idiot in particular made the deadpan woman's shoulders sag ever so slightly. Immediately she looked away as her mind fought to stave off the collective memories of doing infiltration work with Reigy. He was good at what he did, but his tongue in cheek humor grated on her nerves. Not many others spared her and Nura anything more than a cursory glance. Save for a woman with a pink stripe defiantly parting her blonde hair. From what Nemo had learned previously, she assumed this to be the First Liberator who had been out running raids these past few weeks. She certainly matched Kezia Vorbiev's physical description, and her infamously spirited nature. When eye contact was reached Nemo could already feel a sinking feeling in her gut. Carthage was inevitably brought up as expected. Before she could say anything Reigy offered a very, very condensed and incomplete summary of the whole affair. Why he felt the need to even say anything at all befuddled Nemo as the woman sighed with a weary look on her face.

'That's it. I'm returning his tablet by bashing him over the head with it..' Disinterested eyes drifted down to said item on the table before her as her imagination fancied the idea. Across the table the blonde woman's aggravated tone sounded off returning Nemo's attention to reality once more. Had this very scene not been played out over and over within recent weeks Nemo might have gotten into a brawl with the assumed First Liberator. Instead she continued to sit upright in her chair, and simply listened with her tired expression still plastered on her face. Even as Kezia shouted at them and pounded the table with her fist Nemo remained unfazed.

However, she was concerned about Nura at the moment. To distract the pyro from the obvious tension Nemo reached into a pocket while maintaining eye contact with Kezia. She pulled out a Zippo lighter, tilted back the cap, and gave the flint wheel a firm downwards flick with a thumb. A small flame was born from the effort, and Nemo simply placed the object down on the table in front of Nura without explanation. She waited for Kezia to finish. Impatiently, as portrayed by her jaded expression. When the loud voice suddenly went silent Nemo sighed again, continuing to stare across at the blonde before speaking in her own worn out voice.

"I want this misunderstanding erased once and for all. You will not accuse my comrades for being at fault. The Carthage incident was planned by me, Nemo." There was a set tone of finality in Nemo's voice where she had put an emphasis on her words. There would be no arguing this with her, and she was tired of having her brothers and sisters in arms being persecuted for her own failings. And every time someone even whispered about what happened in Carthage, she was reminded of that failure. It was a stinging guilt that she would take to her grave refusing to forgive herself for it. "You are the First Liberator, I presume? Your team must have been very deep undercover. The news media was all over that fiasco. I will personally give you a proper debriefing after this meeting is finished. To plug up the gaping holes left out by others.." At this point Nemo's stare floated over to Reigy in mild irritation, although her drained expression persisted. It took a pointed moment before her gaze reset on Kezia.

"You surprise me, though. If you, or any of the rest of your fellow Knights, felt that Hadrian and his Brigades were never prepared for war things certainly look bleak. I agree with your assessment. Any upper hand the rebellion had was in making Hadrian react to our actions instead of dictating them. The only reason he hasn't marched upon Atlias till now is to preserve the political air of a caring leader, not a warmonger who would grind his own people down to root us out. I imagine he would have been content to use us as contained political punching bag to further his own gains with the people for quite some time. However, now his hand has been forced, and the people support action. As for us, we will see what Opus wants us to do in turn. It's an uphill fight, but when has it not been as such for us? If the thought of war with the Brigades were to startle anyone I would think the answer is simple: stay out of the fight."

Her parting words was a bad joke of course. Even if someone were to run they would be hunted down relentlessly by Hadrian's goons. Nemo's gaze swept over the rest of the room's occupants wondering what everyone else might be thinking. In the end it didn't matter. She knew what she was here to do. When her gaze fell upon Nura she paused. Reaching out with a hand Nemo gently took a hold of the other woman's arm to get her attention. She then used her free hand to gesture to her own face with a circular motion.

"Nura.. Facial recognition is important amongst allies," encouraged the woman softly, and implying for her to remove her mask.




Kira_infinite


Giyari


Yuuki of the Strata

[Giyari]

Hearing Boyan speak up, Kez nodded at him, listening to his words as he filled her in on the major points she had missed, though a scowl scowl crept onto her face as she heard the news. Her eyes darted to the "newbies" in question, this meeting, this situation, was their fault? she could only guess at the damage they might have caused to the Black Knights plans, any paths that Opus had them running down would no doubt have now been cut short, or outright blocked...

"You attacked that b***h using our name, without our permission?" Kez growled at the trio. She had wondered why the last few raids had been an uphill battle, now it was obvious.

"Let me guess, Republic army has doubled all its forces, patrols, guards, and are more armed than we have ever ******** seen them. And it's all because these, these... three got hot headed and ahead of the game? And last I heard Eosiria Von Whore was still alive, so you didn't even manage to succeed!" She was visibly angry, having thought that the increased patrols and guards were because of her raiders presence made sense, but with this information now joining the newly revealed facts, it was clear that the entire republic military was probably on edge.

"Yeah that will definitely help our cause! My team have spent the last few months strategically taking down outlying positions and gaining supplies so we would have an eventual upper hand, and what the ******** have we got now? An enemy that is ready for and expects war!" Kezia roared, slamming her cybernetic fist down on the table as she raised to her feet, her eyes burned with anger and pent up frustration, most of which was not due to this exact situation, but everyone has their tipping points.

She raised her hand and pointed at the three as more words flowed from her being like a volcanic eruption on an unsuspecting mountain village.
"So there goes our chance of a surprise assault! There goes our chance of striking at time we decide! There goes our ******** upper hand!" If one could compare Kezia to anything at this moment, it would be to a beaten hound that has finally had enough, it was almost like her teeth were as sharp as her words, and you could almost feel she wasn't afraid to tear out throats if it came to it.


Location: Stronghold Communications Room
Company: The Liberators
Mood: ******** angry

Yuuki of the Strata




XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX

[XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX]

Viktor Isayev
The Red Comet
Eighth Brigade
Location: The Glory Hound Bar > On his way to Titty Twisters
Company: Other soldiers

If we don't make it alive;

Tensions were brewing in the World's Capital. The Brigades were getting ready for a big push, and everyone was on edge about the operation. The poor bastards in the higher number Brigades didn't even know most of the details due to a 'need to know' requirement. Viktor almost felt sorry for those poor bastards who would be clueless up till the eleventh hour. Almost. He had his own problems to worry about, but he'd cross that bridge when he got there. For now he was shaking off the moody atmosphere from Brigade Headquarters by killing time at the Glory Hound Bar in Black Cat Square. The sun hadn't even gone down yet, but there never failed to be a steady crowd of soldiers at this popular watering hole.

Already several beers down and raring for more the redhead was hell-raising with a group of other rowdy soldiers. Drinking would have been more fun with the rest of his Brigade, but ******** all if he knew where they all were; he wasn't a mother hen! And so the boisterous Viktor continued to bang his beer bottle down on the counter in rhythm, enthusiastically singing along with his brothers in arms.

"Up in the morning, out of the rack!
Greeted at dawn by a rebel attack!
The top brass orders us off to war!
We’ll kick some a**, and ask for more!
Oh hail, oh hail, oh Hadrian!
No greater leader there has been!
A soldier in the Brigades I'll be!
'Cause nothing in this world is free!"

A rousing cheer went up at the end of the short song as drunken faces grinned and laughed. Viktor downed a couple more beers, and swapped a few stories before his fun was cut short by a phone call. Even in his inebriated haze he could recognize the phone number for the Brigade's hospital having visited the place himself so many times in the past. They usually didn't bother calling him unless it was important, so the man begrudgingly paid his bill before stepping outside to take the call.

"Yeah, Isayev here? ..... What about her?" A brow raised half heartedly as the woman on the other end of the line mentioned Darryl. In truth Viktor had yet to visit the woman in the hospital. The last he had seen of his teammate she was being wheeled off to a med-evac vehicle back at Carthage. He hadn't had the courage to see how she was doing since. Even with his bravado he didn't want to believe that anyone from the Eighth Brigade could come so close to dying. Like hell would he ever admit such a thing, though. As he listened to the voice coming out of his phone his face pinched in an irritated expression. "How the [********] do you lose someone with only one leg?!" The woman apologized yet again as she continued to explain. Apparently the hospital wanted Darryl back so she wouldn't hurt herself, but Viktor had a sneaking suspicion the Eighth's Bombshell Blonde would be fine if she could run off to see some strippers. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. s**t, I bet she even knocked out a few orderlies who tried to stop her, right? Fine, I'll go see if I can drag her back for you. Bye."

After hanging up Viktor chuckled to himself as his gaze strayed to the statue the Black Cat Square had been named after. Finally, someone had got around to patching up the damage the Eighth Brigade members had made on it during Sunnifa's birthday celebration. Now that had been a night to remember! 'Too bad I can't remember most of it, heh,' thought the redhead with a wry grin. Just like he said he would, Viktor started making his way over to Titty Twisters. He even left messages on Sunni's and Kameko's phones telling them to meet him there to go see Darryl. Bringing the one legged woman back to the hospital was just about the last thing on Viktor's mind, though.


Well it's a hell of a good day to die!






infamous H A V 0 C


Simulacrinomicon


Supreme Byrd Starlord

[hinabelle]

you're ｓｔｉｌｌ ＡＬＩＶＥ ･ ↺ ･ when ʏᴏu ｃｏｕｌｄ ｈａｖｅ ＤＩＥＤ


█║▌│█│║▌║││█║▌│║║█║█║▌│█║▌│║║█
▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ▀ ▀ ▀▀▀▀▀▀

✖the ｐａｔｔｅｒｎｓTHEY C0NTR0L YOUR ＭＩＮＤ_

Quiet grumblings.
Eliisabet wandered down the street toward the Stronghold. She felt hungover, but she had only consumed two glasses of wine the night before. She rubbed her temples, then her eyes, then the bags beneath. Her face had a sallow color to it and her hair was slightly messy. If anything, she was probably sick... but how does someone like her get sick? She shook her head and stuffed her hands in her pockets, passing through the Stronghold entrance.
The night before had been spent rather uneventfully. Out to a solo dinner with wine, and then a patrol of the streets for information and gossip until morning. Of course, that behavior was under the guise of security patrol. She had spent the past five days -- days and nights -- as a watchman with alternating posts at the outskirts and the walls. She figured she must have ringed the city three, three-and-a-half times during her "shift". She hadn't found anything particularly interesting or worthwhile to report. It was all ordinary defense and general disgruntled attitudes out there.
Click, click, the low heels of Eliisabet's shoes sounded in the empty lobby. Kind of empty, given that the past few weeks had been nothing but low murmurs about how to respond to the speech given a while back by Hadrian. Slightly unsettled by the stillness, Eliise tucked her hair behind her ear and made her way to the living corridors.

Upon entering her room, Eliisabet immediately removed her shoes by the slightly agape door. She lifted her eyes to the bed, then slid her gaze to the radio and its blinking transmitter. With hesitance, she approached it and scanned over the information. Orders to send more men out to where she had just returned from... medic calls... and then a message from A.L.I.C.E.

"ALL LIBERATORS AND REBEL OFFICIALS REQUIRED TO PRESENT THEMSELVES WITHIN THE HOUR AT THE CONFERENCE ROOM IN THE BLACK KNIGHT'S HEADQUARTERS.

WITH RESPECT,
CAPTAIN OPUS ENESARON"

Eliisabet frowned. Was she included in this call? She wasn't a part of the Liberators team, nor was she an "official" by any sense of the word. She stared blankly at the screen until her attention drifted slowly to the cot again.
A sudden clatter set her off guard as she went on full alert, jumping to the wall and pressing her back against it. She glanced at the floor, then sighed. Her canteen had fallen from its hook on her belt and the cap spun off into the hallway. With realization sparking in her mind, she kneeled to pick the bottle up. Of course she was "hungover"... she had run out of water last night and forgot to refill it. And that wine did her no favors. She scurried out into the hall and swiped the cap, then crawled under the cot and retrieved a case of water. After filling the canteen, she swigged it and refilled it to the top. She was nearly tempted to down it again, but figured she should pace herself. She clambered onto the bed and shut her eyes, falling asleep quickly.

After about six minutes, Eliisabet woke and pulled her shoes on. Her face was looking a little better and her head wasn't pounding so hard. She hooked the canteen back to her waist and bumbled about the room, double checking the radio as usual before traveling to the conference room. She slipped through the door and made a beeline for a corner, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. The room was already full of people, but she made no effort to converse or identify anyone and instead attempted to get a few more moments of rest in. Eliise's eyes drifted shut and her expression relaxed as her hair curled around her face.




STATUS
mood: very tiredxxxxlocation: the Stronghold conference roomxxxxcompany: quite a few rebels
health: 【┃▏▎▍▋▊】75%

OOC:
yay! ;u;

[Dao Ma]

▰▱LOCATION◦stronghold ▰▱ STATUS◦bam bby ▰▱ WITH◦lotsa people
#488aa0
A long stream of smoke left from between Boyan's lips as he looked at some schematics he was able to smuggle with help of various contacts. The last few weeks had kept Boyan terribly busy and he has little time to think or even remember that his birthday was in a few days. There were far more important things at hand.

Standing and hovering over the schematics, he let out another sigh and drew his fingers through his hair. [******** updated quite a bit since I was about." He traced a finger along some new features on the drawings of mechanical suits. "Coverin' all your faults. At times like these, I wish I were still there to test out these ********] He pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it between his fingers as he placed his hand down on the table. His eyepatch was strewn beside scattered papers and there were bottles everywhere in the small room. Outside of Dixon's bar, this was the place where Boyan did most of his work. All Liberators knew not to bother him when the door was tightly shut. "Scheisse, Opey...We've got our hands filled with this one..." he drummed his fingers on the table.

Suddenly a message lit up Boyan's phone on the table. He looked over and read the words that scrolled on the screen.

"ALL LIBERATORS AND REBEL OFFICIALS REQUIRED TO PRESENT THEMSELVES WITHIN THE HOUR AT THE CONFERENCE ROOM IN THE BLACK KNIGHT'S HEADQUARTERS.

WITH RESPECT,
CAPTAIN OPUS ENESARON"

"Heh..." He grinned and replaced the stick in between his lips.

With hands in his pockets, Boyan casually walked down the hall. He'd been meaning to speak with the Prometheus captain again. It had been a bit since their card game and his demanding compensation for the misconduct with Lord Desmond's bed. Boyan was pretty upset that he had to sleep in his own bed alone because of that.

Speaking of the devil...

Boyan insta-linked arms with Lord upon greeting and went with his little posse to the conference room. He let the others enter before coming in himself--always having to make his presence known--and sitting down. Eyepatch now on his face, he was the man everyone knew him to be. A smug snot that never seemed to serious. He gave Nemo a broad grin when he saw her and Nura. His eyes scanned over everyone and then he leaned back in his chair.

"What? No Guten Tag for me? I'm saddened." He chuckled looked at Kez. "In a nutshell, there was a sabotage with Carthage. These ones got involved and Cabinet Lady Von Yallae was injured in a train derailing." he nodded his head at Nemo and Nura. "Under the Black Knights banner--which wasn't our call, mind you--there was a decently sized bicker and Hadrian's hund came out and bombed the place. Now Hadrian's calling us out with intent of war. Surely someone better with stories can fill you in with the intricate details."


ooc;; if I got something wrong, lemme know so I can edit. e^e;; my brain is all sorts of scattered still.

[XxWild-Eyed_JokersxX]

Logan Warrain
Mood: Business as usual!
Company: Ferdy > Trinity
Location: Clinic in Lyrevium
Outfit: Work Overalls
┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
I know that there's a difference between sleight of hand,
And giving everything you have.
There's a line drawn in the sand,
I'm working up the will to cross it, and I hope...
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

It didn't take long for news of Ferdynand's latest blunder to reach his ears, even if Logan was out back. Some of the clinic's patrons had come out the rear door of the building talking about hearing an explosion somewhere with panic written on their faces. Seeing as how the facility was still standing, and given past experiences, Logan could only assume the blast came from a certain lab. While the event had rattled people's nerves there seemed to be no major commotion or sense of urgency from what he could see. 'Must have been a small one this time,' thought the man silently. In any case he dutifully marched back into his workshop to properly respond to the situation. First and foremost, a small fire extinguisher was set aside. It was best to just be prepared whenever entering that man's domain.

After a couple minutes of preparation he felt comfortable with the backpack he had stuffed with supplies and made for the door, only to stop halfway when something hit the door from outside. A distinct frown etched across his face at the sound of Ferdynand's voice. Logan opened the door still lugging his fire extinguisher in one hand. His eyes widened in slight surprise after a cursory glance of the other man. The green coloration of Ferdynand's clothes and skin was not something Logan recognized. Immediately his mind jumped to possible conclusions and solutions, none of which he was sure the scientist would particularly appreciate. First thing first, though. Taking his extinguisher in both hands and he approached the singed researcher, Logan then pointed the black nozzle towards the other man. Before hosing him down with carbon dioxide gas he offered this not so helpful warning:

"Sir, please hold your breath."

He held the extinguisher's trigger mechanism down for several seconds, and even chased Ferdynand a few steps to make sure any possible lingering embers were smothered out. Feeling that it was now relatively safe to be near the eccentric man Logan then addressed other pressing concerns with his usual businesslike tone. "Sir, as per the norm I need you to fill out a 'dee-dee one-five-six-nine incident report' in duplicate to document this occurrence. Please be sure to list any hazmat that may be involved, as well as any cautionary actions that may be required. Headquarters appreciates your cooperation." Again Logan paused to study the splotches of added color amongst Ferdynand's figure. If the substance was dangerous he doubted the scientist would leisurely ask him for a wrench of all things. Speaking of which.

"As for the wrench, I will need the proper requisition forms to be done as well, Sir. If you have misplaced the copies I copied for you last week I can get you more." The repairman was always wary about lending another person tools. Especially other people who kept misplacing their own equipment. To prevent openly refusing the troublesome man, Logan simply decided to use bureaucracy to say no for him. Civilians often refused to deal with such things in his experience, and rightly so. It was an aggravating practice that he had been the victim of more than once back in his Brigade days.

"If you'll excuse me Sir, I have my own business to attend to. Please be safe with your experiments in the future." He turned around and headed back into his workshop to return things back to their proper places. An electronic tablet on a table beeped to announce a new message as he set the extinguisher down. Logan promptly read the message before glancing towards the large box housing Trinity's lamp. The ex-soldier typed and sent a simple reply of acknowledgement back to the girl before putting the box on a hand truck and wheeling it off. Moving through the clinic he made his way to the front door and opened it. Trinity was waiting as expected, and with her usual entourage of muscle. Logan spared her bodyguards nothing more than an initial glance before returning his attention to the young Faraday heir.

"Ms. Faraday, good afternoon. Your lamp, as you ordered." Pushing the hand truck out the door he eased the box down in front of the clinic's visitors. Gloved hands carefully pulled and pushed aside the cardboard flaps on top to reveal the item inside. Being a desk lamp it was just under two feet tall. He then took a step and gestured to it. "I hope you find it to your liking, Ma'am." While the business at hand was important he couldn't help but get a little distracted by his thoughts. He had mixed feelings about these trades if only because he felt somewhat guilty for asking a young girl for such favors. Trinity had always been good and fair with her deals, of which Logan was always grateful for, but he felt as if he was furthering a life of violence for the teenager. Invariably his gaze shifted back to her thugs. Despite the dangers of being an armsdealer under the table she appeared to have the situation under control, at least. Keeping his eyes forward he reached out behind himself to close the front door not wanting anyone else to get involved in this delivery. "Word has it that there is something big being orchestrated by the military about to happen soon. If that is true best of luck to you, Ma'am. Being busy is good for business, but do be safe as well."

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
That I will never let you down.
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

Yuuki of the Strata

Mintiia