Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Promotional work?"

She hadn't the faintest idea what Gamma was talking about...probably some figure of speech she didn't quite understand. Still. So she would address Gammu. Finally, she realized that the man...Damien, an ex-slave apparently, that was interesting...had been trying to talk to them.

"Hell, I'm freelance and I don't get to choose when I work. Even when I was a general. They gave me full command of almost all the troops, and expected that if I wasn't out assaulting the city walls, I was sleeping. Or planning how to attack the city walls."

Gamma leaned over to the left and took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between two of the fingers he had on the table. Why? To yell better. That and Flare was between Gamma and Damien.
"Some General you are. s**t hits the fan and you guys scatter like cockroaches on a beach. Everything succumbs to Chaos and hits the fan twice right before some guy up and tries to end existence."
There were a few people there that would understand. Who Gamma was talking to was not likely one of them. With little pause, he stuck the butt back in his mouth and resumed.
"Hell, we were doing your job for you."

They, clearly, took rank and title very seriously. As seriously as being shot at which was what service in the military came down to. Who was willing to take what for the cause. Flare would have to make due with being ignored by Gamma for a moment.

((a** wipe, keep to the posting order.))

He would have been better if he had kept his mouth shut after the first comment; but no he had to speak up and now everyone was on him. This wasn't going to be a pretty sight when it was all said and done.

"Oh shut the ******** up you old man. You don't know s**t, you couldn't command an army of toy soldiers and I don't care what rank the Boy Scouts gave you."

Individuals such as the Damien only annoyed Gammu. They made his blood nearly boil. What with their failure to understand that rank meant a lot more work then just being a rank and file soldier; and even then that was a full days worth of things that needed to be doing.

"Stop trying to peddle your fiction here. You couldn't even handle someone in a straight up fight."

Another individual suffering from delusions of grandeur, why where there so many of them? Gammu had read his own mental evaluation and there were problems; but grandeur was thankfully not one of them. Besides anyone that had lived through war and knew war was far too cynical to act the way Damien had.

"I damn near lost my best jacket thanks to Chaos," Flare snarled angrily at Damien. "Forces aren't always the same as the ones you know, even if they go by the same name. If you're such an old man, don't think like a child." And that was all she had to say on the subject. "Goddamn military. Claim to protect people, but your rank and file soldier will refuse to do his job at the merest hint of the supernatural. Why do you think adventurers run this town?"

She wasn't looking for a fight, but she wouldn't be unhappy if she found one.

Gamma was on his feet, moving not on his will but that of Gammu. Almost like their legs worked in unison. With a flick of his wrist the cigarette drifted through the air and extinguished itself in a glass of beer.

Withdrawing his own automag. A massive pistol made as a sidearm for powered infantry, and would make any firearm short of a S&W500 feel totally inadequate.

He held it low at waist level, both hands as his thumbs rolled over the functions. Safety off, internal chamber on; it was live. Pacing slowly he had turned and crossed the back of Gammu, waiting with his left side to the established firing line. Gamma was still a little drunk.

He stood the not even blinking as the man pointed his gun straight at his head. He calmly replies, "I'm alone because I chose to be alone. No more, no less. Now put that gun away. You will not pull the trigger. I know this. If you wanted to kill me then you would have already. You are never supposed to give an opponent a chance to react." With that statement, he uses one of the lower extensions that are attached to his back to quickly try to knock out the person legs from underneath them, twisting and ducking at the same time. The momentum of this move activate the spring loaded system that he unclasp for a different opponent earlie that night and now apearing in both of his human hands a pair of 9mm Berettas that he aims towards the man.

Laying on the ground blood gushing out he has time enough to mutter these words, "I will be back, I always come back." Which could be barely heard before he closes his eyes.