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[It hasn't been one of the best days that Garrus can remember. Not the worst, either, given the things he's seen: the Geth, Saren, the bureaucratic mess that clots any and all attempts to make even an inch of headway in any given system. What's left in the aftermath of it.
Saying he's had bad luck is like saying Palaven is slightly balmy. Shepard changed that, mostly. As much as (ignoring the irony of the phrase) humanly possible. Which is why when she's not around, no matter how he attempts to ignore it, cynicism always manages to seep back into the edges of his subconscious. He counts the charge left in his rifle from cover. Doubts it's enough to cut a line through what's left of the abandoned facility even with the chorus to Hurt Me Deeper blaring through his headset and a trail of merc bodies leading off behind him. They're packing heavy firepower, heavier than the weight of the gun in his talons, heavy enough to keep him on the move without a solid tactical advantage.
Took them long enough to get their act together, at least. Which means that if he goes out, he can take some small amount of satisfaction from the fact that he gave them hell for it.
And left a relatively clear path to the valuable med research upstairs.]
Saying he's had bad luck is like saying Palaven is slightly balmy. Shepard changed that, mostly. As much as (ignoring the irony of the phrase) humanly possible. Which is why when she's not around, no matter how he attempts to ignore it, cynicism always manages to seep back into the edges of his subconscious. He counts the charge left in his rifle from cover. Doubts it's enough to cut a line through what's left of the abandoned facility even with the chorus to Hurt Me Deeper blaring through his headset and a trail of merc bodies leading off behind him. They're packing heavy firepower, heavier than the weight of the gun in his talons, heavy enough to keep him on the move without a solid tactical advantage.
Took them long enough to get their act together, at least. Which means that if he goes out, he can take some small amount of satisfaction from the fact that he gave them hell for it.
And left a relatively clear path to the valuable med research upstairs.]
Edited 2013-03-28 07:52 (UTC)
GOING FOR AN EX SETTING BECAUSE IT IS THE EASIEST COMMON GROUND
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number1odinson
2013-03-28 07:47 am (UTC)(link)
[It is incredible. A wasteland of a world, desolate as Helheim, left as nothing but a skeletal husk compared to what it once was. Yet still, mortal life carries on in much the same fashion as always. No matter how frustration claws away at him that he is, for a second time in his life, exiled and cut off from all that he knows, Thor finds himself in awe of this realm-- or more accurately, the people in it. They've endured more hardship than they deserve, and should they need an ally in this darkness, so be it: he'll gladly defend them down to his last breath.
For the time being, however, he is content to study whatever curious magic keeps the liquid magma entrapped and blazing hot within the confines of this so called 'Lava-lamp'.
The merchant attempting to sell it seems less than pleased with his curiosity, batting at his heavy hands, muttering a pleading chorus of 'careful-- for the love of god, please be careful!']
For the time being, however, he is content to study whatever curious magic keeps the liquid magma entrapped and blazing hot within the confines of this so called 'Lava-lamp'.
The merchant attempting to sell it seems less than pleased with his curiosity, batting at his heavy hands, muttering a pleading chorus of 'careful-- for the love of god, please be careful!']
[ Two small, seemingly harmless research facilities close by each other and a bigger merc headquarter several kliks south. It had seemed like a good plan to drop him and Garrus and have them take out the facilities while Shepard and her squad hit the headquarters, but then the scientists in the research facilities had jammed his and Garrus' communications and things had gotten - cramped.
He'd had to download the data and then take the rest of it at a loss and blow it behind him to get out unscathed and fast enough, and the sound of gunfire inside as he slides to the side of the door while it opens makes it clear Garrus is facing similar odds. He'd thought that might be the case - it had been one of the spurs to getting out of the other facility as quickly as possible.
Their comms are still out, but Garrus is a soldier. He'll know what's going on as soon as he sees mercs start going down. Thane slips inside the door, hits the first merc he sees with a throw and slides behind a pile of crates, leaning out to fire a few times. That should pull enough off of Garrus to give them both a good chunk to work with. ]
He'd had to download the data and then take the rest of it at a loss and blow it behind him to get out unscathed and fast enough, and the sound of gunfire inside as he slides to the side of the door while it opens makes it clear Garrus is facing similar odds. He'd thought that might be the case - it had been one of the spurs to getting out of the other facility as quickly as possible.
Their comms are still out, but Garrus is a soldier. He'll know what's going on as soon as he sees mercs start going down. Thane slips inside the door, hits the first merc he sees with a throw and slides behind a pile of crates, leaning out to fire a few times. That should pull enough off of Garrus to give them both a good chunk to work with. ]
[Firing off a level shot through a thermal lense with barely 30 feet left between the barrel of your rifle and a solid line of mercs is a miracle and a half. Garrus has the proficiency, the efficiency, but he doesn't have much time to calculate when he's given the barest milliseconds between blasts that threaten to punch holes in his cover. Eventually, he has to adapt, turns his strategy into something predictable if it means drawing this out just a bit longer. He's not worried about Shepard, about Thane or the others. His thoughts read off like a checklist: note the height, drop for cover. Calculate distance, fire one shot, drop for cover. Reposition. Note the height--
And his target's gone.
Something that'd set him right on edge if not for the fact that half the scum over there have turned on their heel to face off with something else. Which means he has back-up, and it's not the commander. (The day she makes a discreet entrance is the day he turns into an asari courtesan.) No, Garrus knows exactly who's crouched behind those crates, and he couldn't be more relieved to see it.
You know, as long as those crates aren't packed with volatile chemicals or explosives or anything that'll result in Thane's immediate death if they get taken out. Then he'd be less relived. Better lay out some cover fire just to be on the safe side and keep the heat off of the assassin.]
And his target's gone.
Something that'd set him right on edge if not for the fact that half the scum over there have turned on their heel to face off with something else. Which means he has back-up, and it's not the commander. (The day she makes a discreet entrance is the day he turns into an asari courtesan.) No, Garrus knows exactly who's crouched behind those crates, and he couldn't be more relieved to see it.
You know, as long as those crates aren't packed with volatile chemicals or explosives or anything that'll result in Thane's immediate death if they get taken out. Then he'd be less relived. Better lay out some cover fire just to be on the safe side and keep the heat off of the assassin.]
[ Thane has no lack of faith in Garrus' abilities - in fact, the Turian is among the top few that Thane most prefers to have be the other squad member on a mission with him. Complimenting snipers can be a powerful force, particularly since he brings biotics and Garrus brings tech abilities. Between them he is fairly confident they could bring down most things. With Shepard as well he believes they might well be unstoppable. (But then, Shepard alone might well be unstoppable.)
It's only a moment after landing behind the crate that he hears the report of Garrus' rifle, no doubt helping to lay down cover fire, and he glances out long to get in a shot and store positions in his memory before he moves, darting between cover as he flanks them, a few more shots every time he moves and positions memorized for the next slide.
The last one is a half climb half vault that lands him behind some cover just across from Garrus, finally in sight, and he switches out his pistol for his own rifle. ] You appear to have made them very angry. [ Garrus doesn't appear to be injured, but appearances can be deceiving. Certainly he remains more than capable of killing mercs at the moment, and for a little bit that is what is most important. ]
It's only a moment after landing behind the crate that he hears the report of Garrus' rifle, no doubt helping to lay down cover fire, and he glances out long to get in a shot and store positions in his memory before he moves, darting between cover as he flanks them, a few more shots every time he moves and positions memorized for the next slide.
The last one is a half climb half vault that lands him behind some cover just across from Garrus, finally in sight, and he switches out his pistol for his own rifle. ] You appear to have made them very angry. [ Garrus doesn't appear to be injured, but appearances can be deceiving. Certainly he remains more than capable of killing mercs at the moment, and for a little bit that is what is most important. ]
And here I thought we were getting along just fine.
[Another clip packed away and he's ready to go, though there's a second spared for turning down his playlist out of courtesy before he's crouched and starting to take aim. If he's injured, he's hiding it well. Then again, it's Garrus; no one would be surprised.]
Did you get the data from upstairs?
[Another clip packed away and he's ready to go, though there's a second spared for turning down his playlist out of courtesy before he's crouched and starting to take aim. If he's injured, he's hiding it well. Then again, it's Garrus; no one would be surprised.]
Did you get the data from upstairs?
[There's a long moment he spends in the middle of the street, staring at him. He ignores the people jostling him, making angry words at having to go around him, of dragging carts up onto sidewalks, take them at sharp angles, because he won't move. He just fixes his gaze straight ahead at Thor, and feels the bottom of his stomach drop out.
There's an absurd moment in the white noise of his mind, where he thinks that maybe everything he's ever known was a lie. Like his mother just told him his father died in an explosion and was crazy enough to convince the rest of the world it was true- When really, George Kirk ran off into the wilderness of some planet and became some weird, tree hugging armour wearing hippie-
Okay, probably not, but it's not like he isn't completely aware of what his father looks like, he's seen holovids, other things. Knows from the way his mother has treated him, from the way after he hit a certain age she stopped looking directly at him, that he resembles his father greatly.
He steps forward, thinks of how to get his attention that isn't completely crazy, that isn't...]
Dad?
[Yeah, okay, so much for that plan. Tries again, stumbles over everything] I mean- Are you-
...Who are you?
[Fucking smooth, Kirk]
There's an absurd moment in the white noise of his mind, where he thinks that maybe everything he's ever known was a lie. Like his mother just told him his father died in an explosion and was crazy enough to convince the rest of the world it was true- When really, George Kirk ran off into the wilderness of some planet and became some weird, tree hugging armour wearing hippie-
Okay, probably not, but it's not like he isn't completely aware of what his father looks like, he's seen holovids, other things. Knows from the way his mother has treated him, from the way after he hit a certain age she stopped looking directly at him, that he resembles his father greatly.
He steps forward, thinks of how to get his attention that isn't completely crazy, that isn't...]
Dad?
[Yeah, okay, so much for that plan. Tries again, stumbles over everything] I mean- Are you-
...Who are you?
[Fucking smooth, Kirk]
Not yet.
[ Rise, headshot, drop, eject thermal clip, rinse. His hands and eyes know the rhythm well, and there are fewer now than there were before, he can take just enough time to make the shot without too much danger. More than the normal, at least. If all of the mercs are here coming for Garrus and they clear them out, there should be time to retrieve anything from here before Shepard arrives.
Perhaps if they direct her here she will not notice the smoking ruin his facility has become. ]
Matters down here sounded more pressing.
[ Rise, headshot, drop, eject thermal clip, rinse. His hands and eyes know the rhythm well, and there are fewer now than there were before, he can take just enough time to make the shot without too much danger. More than the normal, at least. If all of the mercs are here coming for Garrus and they clear them out, there should be time to retrieve anything from here before Shepard arrives.
Perhaps if they direct her here she will not notice the smoking ruin his facility has become. ]
Matters down here sounded more pressing.
I think you meant 'more fun'.
[And he's not entirely joking. Because with or without a small army breathing down his neck, Thane's a compliment to his skill set in more ways than one. Every hard snap of a successful headshot buys him another inch of freedom from cover, acts as the sort of diversion that scatters and confuses even the more hardened veterans of the group. He's less guarded, more efficient, and what amount of feigned confidence that he keeps tucked close to his chest flourishes into something surprisingly more solid beneath the butt of his rifle.
Everything else is discarded with each exhausted thermal clip.]
She might not appreciate that we stole the entertainment for ourselves.
[And he's not entirely joking. Because with or without a small army breathing down his neck, Thane's a compliment to his skill set in more ways than one. Every hard snap of a successful headshot buys him another inch of freedom from cover, acts as the sort of diversion that scatters and confuses even the more hardened veterans of the group. He's less guarded, more efficient, and what amount of feigned confidence that he keeps tucked close to his chest flourishes into something surprisingly more solid beneath the butt of his rifle.
Everything else is discarded with each exhausted thermal clip.]
She might not appreciate that we stole the entertainment for ourselves.
[Optional prompt:
He wins his battles by making no mistakes. Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy that is already defeated.
--The Art of War by Sun Tzu Chapter IV:Tactical Dispositions
Cause I haven't got a clue what else to put here.]
He wins his battles by making no mistakes. Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy that is already defeated.
--The Art of War by Sun Tzu Chapter IV:Tactical Dispositions
Cause I haven't got a clue what else to put here.]
[OPTIONAL PROMPT: I'm a traitor, but I don't consider myself a traitor. - Aldrich Ames]
[I HAVE NO CHARACTERS IN MIND TO CALL OUT IN PARTICULAR, so random prompt time? During or after a massive battle.]
[ Thane gives him a slight look at that, the sort of one that indicates he is aware that statement was at least partly a joke but he is choosing not to reply to it as such.
Or at all, for a moment, because he has to sweep up and take a shot, lingering a moment to try to determine if they will be able to maintain position until the last of these are down. They have tried taking cover now, as little as that will help them. ]
I am certain that she has managed to provide her own entertainment. [ Pop the heat sink, up and a shot in a protruding arm, down again. ] You share a talent for it.
Or at all, for a moment, because he has to sweep up and take a shot, lingering a moment to try to determine if they will be able to maintain position until the last of these are down. They have tried taking cover now, as little as that will help them. ]
I am certain that she has managed to provide her own entertainment. [ Pop the heat sink, up and a shot in a protruding arm, down again. ] You share a talent for it.
[It is, without a doubt, the strangest greeting he's ever managed to receive.
And he's been tasered.]
Are you all right, my friend? You appear to be somewhat ill.
[Because you're, you know, running around calling strangers 'dad'.]
And he's been tasered.]
Are you all right, my friend? You appear to be somewhat ill.
[Because you're, you know, running around calling strangers 'dad'.]
OK HERE WE GO it can be AUversetime or side nonsense so we're not replaying the script
fireinthecourtyard
2013-04-03 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
[Errands. Had to be errands. Sure, they need doing. Garrus isn't about to argue that with everything that went down on Thessia-- not to mention what's looming off on the horizon-- that Shepard needs the break, and the Alliance Fleet could use every last drop of the supplies still left up for grabs. He's not complaining, he's voluntarily picking up the slack.
That doesn't mean he's thrilled about competing for resources, or that he enjoys cutting down packs of Loki Mechs instead of real, solid veterans, but this isn't about him. Never really was.
Intai'sei's human colonies are more wide-open space than some of the settlements they've visited in the past. Something to do with the heat and sand, most likely. It means his targets have little in the way of cover (nevermind that it goes both ways, they're walking heaps of scrap for the most part; he doesn't need to be cautious) turns the whole thing into more of a shooting gallery than anything else.
Bo-ring.]
That doesn't mean he's thrilled about competing for resources, or that he enjoys cutting down packs of Loki Mechs instead of real, solid veterans, but this isn't about him. Never really was.
Intai'sei's human colonies are more wide-open space than some of the settlements they've visited in the past. Something to do with the heat and sand, most likely. It means his targets have little in the way of cover (nevermind that it goes both ways, they're walking heaps of scrap for the most part; he doesn't need to be cautious) turns the whole thing into more of a shooting gallery than anything else.
Bo-ring.]
[Garrus just doesn't get out much these days.
He's still waking up unreasonably early, still suiting up and running the daily inspections required to keep his weapons and tech at the ready-- hell, he strolls right out the front door of the Kima District every single morning. But it doesn't happen under his own name, isn't for recreation or conversation: It's his job, and Archangel does it better than anyone else on Omega.
Still, even he can admit that there's probably some merit to giving social drinking a good half hour of his time. Crime rates are down, his team's running solid patrols on their own, and if he puts this off any longer Sidonis is never going to let him off the hook.
So fine. He's having a drink. Here he is. One drink in hand at the bar. Look at him going for it, world.
Which is more accurately described as sitting there all rigid and irritable, torn halfway between counting the clock and scanning the club in the hopes that there's something going down-- or close to it-- that he can sniff out.]
He's still waking up unreasonably early, still suiting up and running the daily inspections required to keep his weapons and tech at the ready-- hell, he strolls right out the front door of the Kima District every single morning. But it doesn't happen under his own name, isn't for recreation or conversation: It's his job, and Archangel does it better than anyone else on Omega.
Still, even he can admit that there's probably some merit to giving social drinking a good half hour of his time. Crime rates are down, his team's running solid patrols on their own, and if he puts this off any longer Sidonis is never going to let him off the hook.
So fine. He's having a drink. Here he is. One drink in hand at the bar. Look at him going for it, world.
Which is more accurately described as sitting there all rigid and irritable, torn halfway between counting the clock and scanning the club in the hopes that there's something going down-- or close to it-- that he can sniff out.]
We share a talent for a lot of things.
[There's a good second or two spent watching Thane knock that shot off, the motion and flow of it, all precision and focus on some disconnected, tranquil level. He scoffs, words huffed out in mild admiration.]
I don't suppose you're interested in making this a little more interesting.
[There's a good second or two spent watching Thane knock that shot off, the motion and flow of it, all precision and focus on some disconnected, tranquil level. He scoffs, words huffed out in mild admiration.]
I don't suppose you're interested in making this a little more interesting.
[He's not fond of it. Fighting always puts him on edge, draws something out of him that's more heat and anger than conscious effort or want. Reactive, volatile, nauseating at best.
There's blood seeping into the snow of Hoth. Crimson coursing out from beneath the crumpled bodies of Republic soldiers and Jedi, Imperial and Sith alike. It's a mirror image of destruction that he blatantly ignores as he fixates on the blinding blue flash of a consular's saber, cutting a wide arc less than an inch from his brow. His mind is a blank slate of emotion. He's forgotten why they've even come in the first place, regardless of the thorough briefing he'd received beforehand.]
There's blood seeping into the snow of Hoth. Crimson coursing out from beneath the crumpled bodies of Republic soldiers and Jedi, Imperial and Sith alike. It's a mirror image of destruction that he blatantly ignores as he fixates on the blinding blue flash of a consular's saber, cutting a wide arc less than an inch from his brow. His mind is a blank slate of emotion. He's forgotten why they've even come in the first place, regardless of the thorough briefing he'd received beforehand.]
aw yeah picture prompt you don't even have to follow
Fine- You just...
Look like someone.
[It's a sentence that hangs off awkwardly. Not like someone he knows, or someone in his world, because both aren't true any longer- And one of them had only been true in a timeline Kirk will never be apart of.
He shrugs idly, like it doesn't matter. Reconstructs his expression from shell shocked to pleasant] You never did say. Who you were.
Look like someone.
[It's a sentence that hangs off awkwardly. Not like someone he knows, or someone in his world, because both aren't true any longer- And one of them had only been true in a timeline Kirk will never be apart of.
He shrugs idly, like it doesn't matter. Reconstructs his expression from shell shocked to pleasant] You never did say. Who you were.
Indeed.
[ Being stubborn, being unerringly dedicated to seeking out violence and confronting it, a rather similar approach to humor. He understands very well why they're so close. A glance spared Garrus' way at that. ]
What do you suggest?
[ Being stubborn, being unerringly dedicated to seeking out violence and confronting it, a rather similar approach to humor. He understands very well why they're so close. A glance spared Garrus' way at that. ]
What do you suggest?
[She'll never get used to it, going back in time on odd jobs, the Initiative casual as anything about picking time apart at the seams. Christ, if she had her way, they'd all retreat to 2010 and stay there. Screw the UE; if the cyborg-nation of nutjobs can't find them, why even bother going back to some barely held together wasteland?
But this? London, streets slick with rain that pools up over the cobblestones and splatters beneath trotting hooves. This she likes. More than she should, admittedly.
Chloe's pulling off a decent job of crossdressing (given the time period, her hair's not entirely out of place) hands stuffed down in her pockets as she stares wide-eyed at the store front of a local jewelry shop.]
But this? London, streets slick with rain that pools up over the cobblestones and splatters beneath trotting hooves. This she likes. More than she should, admittedly.
Chloe's pulling off a decent job of crossdressing (given the time period, her hair's not entirely out of place) hands stuffed down in her pockets as she stares wide-eyed at the store front of a local jewelry shop.]
As far as I can tell, there's less than fifteen of those bastards left between us and the way out.
[The massive, battered container he's crouched behind fractures on one of the far corners beneath the blast of a firearm that's not too far off.]
--okay, fifteen exactly.
I'll wipe my current count, and if you're not afraid of a little friendly competiton...
[The massive, battered container he's crouched behind fractures on one of the far corners beneath the blast of a firearm that's not too far off.]
--okay, fifteen exactly.
I'll wipe my current count, and if you're not afraid of a little friendly competiton...
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