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Re-Entry 08: Video/Spam
Help!
[The cry goes out while the video is still turning on. The picture, when it appears, is chaotic: Felix Gaeta, ashen grey and soaked with sweat and tears of panic, but only for a second before the shaking camera turns on what looks like an empty Western ghost town, caught from a high vantage point, shingles visible at the bottom of the screen.
Not empty. There are snarls and yowls and a terrifyingly organic sound coming from below.
Felix's voice cuts in again, tight with fear. He's not a hero. He's not a fighter. He's the one at the controls, and for all that he's usually good at staying calm in a crisis, it's a lot frakking easier when there's a console between him and it. He sounds a little hysterical.]
SOS! SOS! I'm pinned down in the-- oh, gods-- [There's another furious roar from below; his voice hitches, the camera shakes.] --the CES. Something attacked us. I think Dean is dead. I--
[There's a scream from underneath, unmistakeably human. The communicator drops against the shingles--] Dean? [--and cuts out.]
[Open Spam for Level Two/Infirmary, Later]
[After it's all over, after they've done what they can with Dean's corpse and patched up whatever needs to be on the survivors, Felix is set adrift into the aftermath. He should get cleaned up and then stay with Dean, he knows, or else he should get back to work and keep something like this from happening again. But he can't seem to make himself go to the latter just yet, not with Dean dead less than an hour, and the former...
He's always known that the death toll exists here, but he's never had to really confront it before, not in a way he couldn't brush off and ignore. The truth is that it scares him more than almost anything else about the Barge, even here, even now. It's not ignorance; it's not that he's never seen anything like it before. It's that he has.
The pull to sit by Dean's side and wait is powerful, but in the end, he winds up haunting the door to the infirmary, still red-eyed and disheveled, constantly peeking inside.]
((Right after/congruent with this, obviously.))
[The cry goes out while the video is still turning on. The picture, when it appears, is chaotic: Felix Gaeta, ashen grey and soaked with sweat and tears of panic, but only for a second before the shaking camera turns on what looks like an empty Western ghost town, caught from a high vantage point, shingles visible at the bottom of the screen.
Not empty. There are snarls and yowls and a terrifyingly organic sound coming from below.
Felix's voice cuts in again, tight with fear. He's not a hero. He's not a fighter. He's the one at the controls, and for all that he's usually good at staying calm in a crisis, it's a lot frakking easier when there's a console between him and it. He sounds a little hysterical.]
SOS! SOS! I'm pinned down in the-- oh, gods-- [There's another furious roar from below; his voice hitches, the camera shakes.] --the CES. Something attacked us. I think Dean is dead. I--
[There's a scream from underneath, unmistakeably human. The communicator drops against the shingles--] Dean? [--and cuts out.]
[Open Spam for Level Two/Infirmary, Later]
[After it's all over, after they've done what they can with Dean's corpse and patched up whatever needs to be on the survivors, Felix is set adrift into the aftermath. He should get cleaned up and then stay with Dean, he knows, or else he should get back to work and keep something like this from happening again. But he can't seem to make himself go to the latter just yet, not with Dean dead less than an hour, and the former...
He's always known that the death toll exists here, but he's never had to really confront it before, not in a way he couldn't brush off and ignore. The truth is that it scares him more than almost anything else about the Barge, even here, even now. It's not ignorance; it's not that he's never seen anything like it before. It's that he has.
The pull to sit by Dean's side and wait is powerful, but in the end, he winds up haunting the door to the infirmary, still red-eyed and disheveled, constantly peeking inside.]
((Right after/congruent with this, obviously.))
spam!
A dragon.
A frakking dragon.
Or whatever the frak that was.
Racetrack wastes a good three full seconds just gaping before she manages to pull her shit together and shoot at a couple of the other dogs. Her aim is not amazing, though. ]
spam!
...well, then there's a dragon, and he doesn't even know what to do about that.] What the frak?
[Moving on, he decides firmly, awake now. He calls across to Racetrack.] I'm unarmed!
spam!
Chromie, Racetrack, I can keep them at bay but you two have the real firepower. Can you manage for five, ten minutes while I get Felix back on deck?
spam!
[It turns out it's hard to breathe fire and talk at the same time. Chromie does manage to spit some more plasma at the far edge of the pack, though for the most part it misses.]
spam!
[ To Steph: ] Done. Go.
[ She is going to keep shooting and not waste time on words. ]
spam!
spam!
No, don't go down! I've got a much better idea.
[ She fires, and in a matter of seconds she's swinging through the air safely above the teeth of the crazed hounds below and launching herself up onto the roof next to him. ]
Unless the dogs learned how to fly. Then we're totally screwed. How's your grip?
spam!
[...he hopes.]
But what about-- [He nods towards the ground, where both Dean's remains and his own are still awaiting rescue.]
spam!
Whatever there is left to recover can wait until you're safe. Come here, I need you to hold on tight. This thing can hold both our weights.
[ She offers him an arm, her grapnel gun aimed at a building adjacent the one she was on before. They're going around the dogs, not over. ]
spam!
He'd rather get himself out, but he can't say that he's done a lot of swinging from grapnels in the last decade or so, so he acquiesces and takes her arm.]
spam!
[ She pulls him in close, making sure she has a good grip of him. She really doesn't want this to be the first time she drops somebody. ]
Now let me escort you out of it.
[ She fires the grapnel, and the next moment they're flying through the air. Steph swings his weight around so the both of them land more or less upright before moving on to the next roof. ]
spam!
spam!
Okay, now we can take the stairs.
spam!
That might be easier said than done. [No, he's never given up on doing anything before because of it, and he's not going to start now. He shakes his head and straightens up.] You should go back. I'll get down on my own. [Eventually.]
spam!
Not a chance. We don't know if there are more of those dogs, or things like them. I'm seeing you straight to the door.
spam!
spam!
You may be confused about the meaning of 'faster'. Come on, I've got your back, let's head out.
spam!
So when she says that, he just sort of gives her a quizzical look, then glances around, wondering if he's missing something other than the obvious. Dean sometimes forgets about his limitations, but this is a new level of confusing.]
I, uh... I need my leg. Or at least a leg.
spam!
[ She holds out her arm again, though it would be much easier to take him by the shoulder. She hopes he knows how to use people as a crutch, because otherwise this is going to be clumsy. ]
Don't tell me you're going to make me carry you the whole way, because I will. [ And it would be un-fun. But she would still do it. ]
spam!
spam!
Five, ten minutes tops. Longer if I have to carry you.
spam!
spam!
spam!
spam!
Come on, let's get you the rest of the way to safety.