2018-02-18: Do The Right Thing
- Log: Do the Right Thing
- Cast: Ida Everstead-Rey, Riesenlied, Noeline, Brigands (played by Yarobeleedt)
- Where: An Abandoned Grocery Store
- Date: 18th February 2018
- Summary: Finally, Riesenlied and Ida both follow the fossil trail to its conclusion. But what will happen in the wake of its liberation?
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
For some reason, the thieves who made off with the fossil cache cared more about intercepting it than about making off with it. Both the Ebony Wings and the Everstead-Rey people had ample chance to question their hired hands--while they don't know the name of the mysterious, flight-suited woman who hired them, they do know where the cache was hidden. It's in a dusty, abandoned old frontier town, of the exact sort that have been having Reaper issues of late.
The intel puts the cache somewhere on the outskirts, in the storehouse of an abandoned general store. It's one of the few buildings that's mostly intact--most everything else on the main street is slowly being eaten by the desert. The faded, sun-beaten sign still reads 'GENERAL GOODS'.
Ida and a single companion approach on horseback. She's wearing a patched, weather-beaten longcoat and hat. The man beside her is big and imposing, and dressed similarly--his right eye is covered with an eyepatch, and that side of his face is riddled with shrapnel scars. Ida hops out of the saddle, gives her horse a pat on the muzzle, and waits for her companion as he scans the horizon, and then the town, with a pair of field binoculars.
"Don't see anything," says Jimmy Shen Long. He passes Ida the binoculars and lets her take a look for herself.
"I dearly hope there /is/ nothing," Ida murmurs. She cracks the knuckles of her right hand as the two of them make their way down towards the abandoned main street. "How long will it be before the truck gets here?"
"Could be ten minutes," says Jimmy, "could be an hour. Did you ever try driving offroad on your little expeditions with your professor?" Ida doesn't answer. Jimmy stops talking, and the mission commences in earnest.
Ida takes point as the two of them approach the dilapidated general store, hands clenched at her sides. Jimmy is right behind her, six-shooters drawn, and ready to intercept anything that so much as looks at his employer's niece funny.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
There is no rest for the wicked.
It couldn't have been truer for Riesenlied, who has only had a scant amount of time since the battle at Kaiser Sigmund's Summer Palace -- a battle that had seen her accidentally pushed out of her body due to the powerful dual nature of Lily's Ether amplifiers, the Kislevi woman's own power... and also the presence of the Golem Sado, as well--
--culminating in a battle where she finally had to draw the Fallen Sword and succumb to what she is, rather than what she wishes to be.
It's not all bad.
Muni-Muni has returned from being Air Force One, super-excited and still intensifying and slightly reverberating from being able to fly a VIP like the Kaiser (in Muni's terms, she's basically checked off one of her goals in lyf... whatever that bucket list may contain... Muni only knows). And now she's serving as mount once more--
--as the tromping footsteps of the heavy Dragon march through the main street. Muni is in a form Ida has seen before when they went to the Mountain Ruins to intercept Golem Nimue -- the bipedal armored unit with the insectoid wings, and seated ontop of it is... Riesenlied.
She spots Jimmy and Ida on their horses, quietly bowing her head as she looks towards their approach to the general store. They got the same information...
"Muni... please keep on the lookout for anything untoward. And protect them, should they need it," she urges quietly.
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
Noeline is standing. That's-- the Wayside way. She's got a thick bandage wrapped around her stomach where Gryndille's beam punched straight through her, and even a true metal demon's prodigious healing can't readily recover from something like that without at least some time to rest. There's a faint limp on one leg as well, though there are small blessings in the fact that at least most of her minor nicks and scrapes have cleared up by now.
The fact that she doesn't want to be here is written clear as day on her face; her mouth is drawn into a thin line, her eyes a little dark as she stares towards their destination. She's hitched a ride, at least for the moment - while Riesenlied takes the pilot seat of the odd armour, Noeline is clung to one side of it, supported by a pair of rungs that Muni-Muni has faithfully provided. Her weapons are not present, but... that's not generally a problem for her.
"... this is a dangerous location. ... to be honest, I expect something like another bomb. The place does rather stand out as if waiting for something like that," she notes quietly.
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
Good, steady work has been hard to come by in these parts. That's a half-truth. There is 'steady' work in taking one's aggressions and ambitions in whatever shape they will take. 'Good' work is scarce. Much of the work one will find out in the Badlands, when one is adequately armed with ARMs, tends to be... not very 'good.'
Case in point, a whole cache of filched fossils. That ain't 'good' work, but the pay? It's been said it'll be 'steady,' all right. Maybe even 'good.' Good enough to hold steady, in this old storefront long since abandoned. A young beastwoman of lithe form plays the role of lookout from the cracks of a boarded-up window. The environs don't give much for visibility from inside, as three of her compatriots go over maintenance for their various ARMs. "Sandworms again?" Asks a portly, heavy-set guy with a penchant for complaining as he finishes reloading an odd multi-barreled rifle-shotgun-monstrosity. "Third time today." "...Nnnnnope." "Then what is it?" Asks a lanky fellow with a grin that just doesn't quit. "'Nother caravan? Could be down for some fresh chow." "....Nnnnnope." "It ain't anything good, is it?" Asks an even lankier fellow whose proportions are so wiry as to be inhuman. "...Nnnnnope." The heavy-set guy pushes the beastwoman aside to take a look for himself. "Oh, great. That's a--" They identify that there's a weird bipedal Gear thing headed their way. This is going to draw immediate attention and probably the brunt of the outgoing fire, if they choose to try and shoo it off and not roll over and play dead. This will allow Ida and her hired help to close in and maybe even get inside before they know they're being beset on multiple fronts. The portly guy smashes away some of the boards with a hefty shoulder bash, allowing a momentary clear view between the Muni-riding duo and whoever or whatever is stirring inside - such as that lovely, friendly pile of no less than nine shotgun-rifle-what-the-hell-is-this barrels arranged in a three-by-three grid poking out this new opening. "We ain't just gonna play dead and let 'em pass?" The inhumanly lanky guy asks. "...Nnnnnope." Goes the beastwoman, as she scampers off to gather her weapons. "My ears are never gonna stop ringing," the portly guy complains as he pulls the trigger not once, not twice, but thrice - sending multiple walls of lead up against the encroaching Muni-mech in an attempt to scare them off from coming any closer.
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Ida and Jimmy make it around the side of the general store as Muni-Muni comes tromping down the street. The sound of heavy footsteps sends a chill down Ida's spine--those absolutely shouldn't be there. Jimmy goes one way, peering through a gap between boards in the window. Ida goes the other, looking around the corner at...
"Oh," Ida whispers. This is not necessarily bad, she reminds herself. It could even be-- he thunderous report of the horrifying kitbash-ARM snaps Ida out of it. She flattens herself against the wall, trying to figure out if that was an anti-Gear weapon, or merely anti-personnel.
"Looks like three of them," says Jimmy, looking back at her. "Maybe more. "This ain't coincidence, kiddo, keep your head down." Jimmy takes point, now, opening the side door as delicately as he can despite the hinges being caked with rust. He steps into the store, with Ida bringing up the rear.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied's eyes widen as she listens in on some of the conversation heading their way, before wincing and seeing the wall of ARMs come out. She ducks her head down and holds tight onto the controls, letting Muni-Muni take the brunt of navigating herself.
The Ebon Wings' Dragons may be what the elders call "defects"; those that've fallen off the production line and not passed inspection. After all, a 'standard' Metal Dragon is roughly 50 feet tall and probably even longer, and Muni-Muni is a scant... 12 feet!
But it isn't to say she's helpless-- because her maw opens and opens and opens, almost to the point of propping Riesenlied up on her backside--
--and just letting gunsmoke ARM bullets fill into her mouthspace, chomping at the bit as she chews iron and swallows gunpowder-seasoned lead (literally). It's not a foolproof strategy (especially because Muni-Muni is involved), but... but...
Well, let's just say... Muni is hangry...
"H-hold your fire! Surrender and we will not harm you!" Riesenlied manages to exclaim in a short-lived din of bullets, as they inevitably have to reload. She doesn't expect them to, but you never know.
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
In an instant's response, Noeline has swung around the back of Muni-Muni. It might be cruel to use the friendly dragon as a shield - but Noeline's got to do some kind of evasive maneuver, and it's not like they weren't already shooting in that direction. Besides, she's got enough trust in the walking armour to know it'll protect Riese as much as it can.
As Riesenlied calls out mid-lull, Noeline takes the opportunity to flit from the dragon's side, pushing herself forwards towards the general store, ignoring the stab of pain in her gut as she exerts herself.
The arc she draws swings wide, the metal demon hoping that her approach will be out of sight of whatever fortifications the bandits are using. The plume of dust she kicks up in her wake puts paid to the idea of stealth, but that's not the end of her tricks - because rather than flatten herself against the side wall she's just telegraphed moving towards, she instead hops upwards, taking two steps to carry herself up the wall onto the roof.
Her pause is more to see what they do next, than anything.
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
The portly gunman's ears indeed, ring. It is unthinkable that the recoil from that 3x3 Grid Gun didn't just blow him away, but as he slams a hand on top of the barrels to get a better look at what he's shooting, he sees the big ol' Gear just slurp the rounds on up like it's nothing.
"IT ATE MY SHOTS." He complains. "What?" The grinning skinny guy asks, because his ears are ringing too. "IT ATE MY SHOTS." He complains again. "What?" "IT ATE MY SHOTS." The portly guy pulls back inside hurriedly as he fumbles about to grab more ammunition. The kitbashed monstrosity's barrel flips open, smoke filling the air as he panics to try and get the thing reloaded. It will take him some time. Jimmy's keen eye lets him catch sight of three. Portly fellow, must've been the one shooting. A dopey-looking thinner guy with a grin. An even stringier guy who seems a bit less personable than the rest. That's three. 'Maybe more' is a good precaution to throw forth - and is correct, as one of their number had wisely moved out of view to go retrieve their preferred weapons. The good news is, so long as Jimmy is keeping point and can keep them in view, he can shoot. The side door gives way as it swings half-way open, the rest of its rusted hinges giving out as the side door collapses in a clatter. Standing before the two of them is that beastwoman, some kind of gazelle-like sort, brandishing two pistols with large, cube-like barrels with tubing attached to something on her back. "....Nnnnnope." She pulls the trigger, and a wet spray of fast-drying cement fills the space in front of her, quickly replacing the lost door with a thickened barrier of concrete and cutting off that approach route... for most people. "We got more freakin' thieves?" Look who's talkin', surly stringy man, as he addresses the beastwoman. "....Nnnnnope." She cheekily replies. Technically true, she just cut 'em off. For how long? Stringy guy tilts his head upwards at the faint sound report of someone touching on the old roof. He grabs hold of what looks like a mass of fishnets and starts up the staircase out to the roof maintenance exit, where he will wait just half-way up the stairs to see if the possible infiltrator up top will make the first move. Meanwhile, back on the ground level, the grinning guy finishes fastening a keg of something into what looks like a flamethrower not dissimilar to something you'd find a Black Tie wielding. "Do ya think it's still hungry?" "IT ATE MY SHOTS." "Ahh, get over it, pal." The smiley guy peeks his weapon out over the window, and lets loose with a spray of... sweet, sugary drink laced with what smells an awful lot like oil? The spray goes far and wide, but he seems to wave it around to make sure it doesn't just get into Muni-Muni's waiting mouth, but around and on it too. Like it's inviting him to take as much as he could possibly want.
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
The door does not cooperate. Jimmy whips back behind the doorframe, scowling indignantly as his perfect entrance is ruined. "Did they--" Ida whispers.
'Nnnnnope.'
A blast of /something/ lands in the door, sticking to it like some sort of projectile spider's web. Ida was expecting gunfire, but clearly hears something gel-like. She frowns at the quickly-drying barrier. It looks like concrete. Which means--
"Get ready," Ida whispers. She sucks in a breath. Jimmy stops halfway to the back of the building, and looks back at her.
"Kiddo?"
"Making a distraction." Golden chi flares up around Ida's fist. Jimmy's eye widens, ever-so-slightly.
Ida whirls around and strikes. Dry, weather-beaten wood gives way beneath her fist, spraying inwards in a hail of splinters. Ida lunges through the hole, ducking behind an old, tumbled-down display case. Scant seconds later, a flashbang sails through the air towards the woman with the strange cement gun.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Muni-Muni isn't what you'd call a highly cerebral individual, in part due to her rather depressing and traumatic accident that made her what she is. Records don't exist of what kind of Metal Demon she was at inception, before everything went wrong in the christening chamber...
... but what she /is/, perhaps, is brave. As such, when that sweet, sugary oil gets sprayed into Muni-Muni's mouth and skin--
"Muni, no, that's--"
-=FWHOOOM=-
The Gear erupts into fire, Riesenlied letting out a rather sordid yelp as she further ducks into her cockpit seat. Fortunately, the oil didn't really spray around her, and she does get cover from Muni's outstretched wings furling onto her rider...
The smiley guy and portly guy suddenly smell something through the smoke and the flame. It smells... sticky, sweet and succulent, the scent of the Maillard reaction with a crisped-up, fork-scrapingly crusty side of...
... Beef?
When the smoke clears, a rotiserrie with a revolving husk of Hob-Gob meat is slowly rotating around in Muni's mouth, apparently having received a recent searing blast from the smiley guy's flamethrower. Where did it come from??
[ Muni-Muni crafts 1x Well-done Hob-Steak from 1x Raw Hob-Steak! ]
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
There's a 'fwoosh' that is so very pleasing to the ears, at least to the ears that do not ring, as the grinning guy and the portly guy look up after first taking cover in case they might've accidentally set their own hideout on fire.
One cleared smoke later... "IT ATE YOUR SHOTS." The portly guy complains. "What." "IT ATE YOUR SHOTS." "No, buddy, I can hear you just fine, it's just, yanno... what." "IT ATE YOUR SHOTS." "...It ate our shots." "IT ATE OUR SHOTS." The portly guy just loses it, dropping some of the ammo he was trying to cram into the kitbashed ARM. "Are they gonna eat our shorts?" "...PFft." The smiley guy stifles a laugh. Sure, he's an outlaw and good as dead to rights if the law or a bounty hunter gets so much as a bead on him, but you know what? You're up against something that's eating your ammo like it's tasty, or an accessory to something tasty... "PUT BACK ON YOUR SHORTS." "...Yeah, y'know what, that's goin' too far, even for us. Buddy. Take off your shoes." "...I'm not even gonna scream that." Let's auto-scroll past the sordid back-and-forth here, in which the approaching Gear - now close enough that Riesenlied could conceivably leap off and come through the window herself - finds the next item on the list being two (2) pairs of Very Dirty, Gross, Unpalatable Socks being flung their way. ...But that's only part of the picture, as Ida punches right on through a wall that could never keep her out. The gazelle beastwoman flinches as she is battered by the spray of loose but relatively damp concrete chunks, one of which gums up the gun on her right. "....Nnnnnope?" She doesn't sound so sure, unaware that Ida just went through the hole. A flashbang goes off, caught off balance and unprepared for the one-two punch as she is robbed of sight and sound within a key instant that could allow her to be neutralized by either party. Ida or Jimmy have her life at her fingertips, if not access to an extended vocabulary in which to extrapolate greater information. "...Nnnnnooooo---!" Meanwhile, the very lanky fellow who has fled upstairs tosses the corners of the fishnet-like contraption up against the corners of the narrow entrance beyond. He knows there's someone up there. This is the only way in from up there. He pulls back the netting as a test, which gives back a rubbery report as it elastically snaps back upon release. He sneers, because he is not in the mood to smile while the complainer and his dopey smiley friend sound like they're struggling down there.
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Ida pulls her hands off her ears and goes on the offensive. She rushes towards the disoriented Beastwoman, shoulder-checking a pile of abandoned, dusty boxes in the process. The boxes tumble over, making something of a mess and adding an extra obstacle for anyone who wants to get into this part of the store. Anger boils up within her as she grabs for the Beastwoman's weapon hand. She has had an absolutely wretched month. It is the latest month in an absolutely wretched year--God, has it been a year?--and each time she thinks she is through with everything, another layer is added on top.
This is probably why her first action is to try and manhandle the gun out of the Beastwoman's hands, and the second action is to try and manhandle the Beastwoman herself into a kind of chokehold.
Jimmy enters just as Ida does this, and cannot manage to suppress a reaction of surprise-bordering-on-horror as he takes cover next to the door leading to Smiley and Ate My Shots's room.
"Did Flora teach you that?" Jimmy says.
"A little," Ida grates out.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied looks very subtly baffled and terrified as the two outlaws start to-- oh goodness- nooo--
Let's auto-scroll indeed past that, because Muni-Muni probably doesn't even /understand/ that she was in danger; she looks very quizzically at the two dirty, gross, unpalatable socks and looooms over them dangerously--
"Behave, Muni."
Muni pouts quietly as she retracts, Riese's words powerful like a mother's to her child... but does look towards the two bandits and-- suddenly has two plates with cuts of rotisserie meat on them?? Well, never let it be said that Muni-Muni isn't generous. Muni is very generous. Perhaps... too generous.
Riesenlied does enter soon after the flashbang goes off, looking extremely fragile and with fresh clothes; her wings look terrible, half-melted and even more shredded than they usually are. Noeline is probably handling the guy she can hear going upstairs.
"Ida..." she speaks softly, as she watches the Guild Galad heiress take down the Beastwoman ruffian. She looks to Jimmy as well, but they basically have time to themselves now.
She glances at the fossils. This was what they were both chasing after all of this time. Ida's family... well, okay, it's probably exaggerating to say their entire fortune, vast as it is, is hinging on this, but it's certainly a sizeable loss unaccounted for until now.
And on Riesenlied's end... it is her brethren that lay there, very nearly submitted to the dark maw that is Golem Sado's chassis.
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
If the Beastwoman has any objections to the way she is being handled, she is free to voice them now as Ida disarms her and comes damned near disthroating her as she is put into a chokehold. (This is a word now.) Her choking and gurgling noises do sort of sound like the trailing letter 'n' as her breath starts to leave her. Ida could kill her with so much as a flex. She is so shocked by what tremendous strength and fury the scrappy scholar channels that she can't even find it in her to struggle as an overly elongated tongue lolls out the side of her mouth as her face starts to lose coloration.
Smiley and mopey clutch one another for safety in their final moments as the 'behaving' creature looms ever closer, yelling in sheer mortal terror as Muni-Muni leans forward and offers... two plates of delicious food? The two of them look to one another as if non-plussed by the whole ordeal, because they are. "They ate our shots." The portly whiner says. "Those platters. That might be our arses, man." The smiley guy says. "Look, there's this... this whole language with giving messages through dishes, yeah? Those roasts look like arses." "You're making it up." "No, no, seriously--" "I HEARD SOMEONE ELSE GET INSIDE." Calls the grumpy stick figure of a... human?... upstairs. "Oh crap." "I don't have my shoes back on--" Who's saying what? Doesn't matter, as the two start to scramble away from Muni's lovely offerings... As Jimmy positions himself to move in on the room that holds the two bungling bandits, they might find themselves squished between a door and a wall - not exactly a rock and a hard place - as the two of them both come barreling through, hurling the door open as smiley guy points the Sweetsprayer with a knowing smile and a wink, like he were the hero arriving on the scene. He is not wearing shoes. Neither is the portly guy, who is running down the small, narrow hallway that leads into the storage room where the fossils lay (which is to say, what used to be the regular store floor for customers to make selections, which is now an entire storage closet unto itself). He is also missing shoes. Just as he finishes loading as many bullets as he's going to into that kitbashed 3x3 Gun, he levels it in Riesenlied's direction. "...I'd be really upset about this, but, y'know... I've seen the posters." He has to shake the gun out to get a stabilizing monopod (JUST a monopod? For that? Seriously?) out since he doesn't have a windowsill nearby to attain adequate enough suspension of disbelief to hold it still as he levels the gun at Riesenlied. "It'd be nice to not have somethin' to complain about at the end of the day..."
Noeline has partially disconnected.
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
A very interesting array of noises sound out from below; the long and protracted 'noooo' is the part that accompanies Noeline pressing forward across the roof at speed, facing down the man with the net with a fearless sort of stare. "--we have faced down golems and machines, and I dare say we will face the Quarter Knights within the month. If you think for an instant that I have cause to be wary of you," she adds as her scythe simply melts out of her to form into her hands, "You are very much mistaken. I suggest surrendering."
Her voice is low; her mouth is still set in that thin line, and her eyes are alight with colour. The threat isn't exactly a threat - she's not about to do serious harm to these men, sure that Riesenlied would never forgive her - but it is intended to be enough of an attention grab to allow her to march straight up to the man and thrust a knee swiftly into his gut, making the decision for him.
Some sense flares at the back of her head as she does so, a quiet warning of danger; it is from her own honed ability to survive, or Duras Drum lending a hand? She's not sure, but she's learnt to trust that sort of impulse, and something tells her she doesn't have time.
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Riesenlied arrives just in time to see Ida fail to properly apply a three-point choke. Her mother taught her that if done right, it can cut off the flow of blood in less than a minute, causing a foe to fall unconscious in a neat, orderly fashion. That is not what happened.
"Riesenlied," Ida says. Her stomach twists. She loosens up her grip as the would-be thief starts to go limp in her arms, and sets her to the floor as gently as she can.
"Company," Jimmy says. Two more men burst through, and Jimmy swings the butt of a pistol at smiley guy's temple. Letting him open up with that thing in here is a non-option; he's already thinking Ida's flashbang was too chancy.
The other guy--well, he goes after Riesenlied, and he's got that gun. Ida ducks behind a counter, out of line of sight, but only for a moment. A moment later, something hits the ground at his feet.
It's not a flashbang. It's a plain old tin can, rusted with age. But he doesn't know that.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Whatever else they were about to speak about dies on Riesenlied's lips; she hears the sound of a faint scuffle upstairs, and more to the point feels the faint sensation of Duras Drum, an indicator more than anything else of Noeline's arrival.
But then there's a click, as the three-by-three (unfortunately, not a delicious special from the Filgaian House of Pancakes) gets levelled in her way.
"You don't want to do this," Riesenlied insists, her expression firm even as wan as she is. The injuries that Gryndille, Sado and she herself inflicted are taking a toll, and yet she finds strength in her voice.
"I do not know your story, why you've turned to this cache of fossils. But I know you won't be able to live with yourself if you go through with this."
Her eyes shimmer very faintly, the light of the Tear lacing power into her words as she requests, appealing to his better nature: "Please. Stand down--"
She hears the clatter of what she can only assume is an explosive, and by instinct she covers herself with her wings. She doesn't know it's a plain old tin can either.
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
The surly wiry guy just gives Noeline a stare as she goes into further detail about the sorts of things she's been up to, the sorts of things she expects to get up to, and how little overall threat he actually means to her. He doesn't look too believing of these facts as he takes one spindly finger and grasps the net, pitching it, pulling it back... letting it snap back. Grasp, pull, release...
... That's less of a threat and more of a frustrated nervous tic as Noeline hefts her scythe. There is no way that net would stop her scythe. She could cut through it with ease, unless there's some trick he's been holding back... ...He just pulls it down, wraps it around his arm, shakes his head, and tries to walk past Noeline nonchalantly. "Never been fond of any of them." Also, there's food he smells down there that seems really freakin' great right about now. Maybe if the smiling guy is dead he can guzzle down the tank of his ARM to wash out the taste of frustration and anger later. This allows Noeline to rejoin the lot of them, but, how are they doing down there...? WHAP. Just as smiley guy flashes the winning smile with the pointed nozzle of his syrupy-sweet kinda-flamethrower, a tooth flies out of his mouth from Jimmy's aptly-placed pistol whipping, forever ruining his perfect smile as he collapses onto the ground with a goofy, appealing grin as though he kind of doesn't mind? The sort of person who'd smile through life even if someone knocked out all of his teeth and then shot him in the head. Ida gently releases the gazelle Beastwoman, who coughs and sputters as the smiley guy 'pssts' to her. "Hey, yeah, uh, I don't think we're going to get paid..." "...Yyyyyuuuuup." There is one last threat to deal with, as the portly fellow fumbles to get that monopod placed so he can fire his 3x3 Gun at Riesenlied as she tries to reason what he wants to do. "Um, I kinda do?" the mopey guy babbles as he breaks his gaze from hers. This is about the time Ida is finding a counter for cover. "There really isn't a story? We're a bunch of bandits with a buncha screwball ARMs, I mean... I don't even know where this stuff needs to go or who it's going to, it's not like... okay, this is weird, you got this bounty and I'm within like five seconds of pulling the trigger and if I cash it in I'm basically set for life? I could... kinda live with that? I read the poster, c'mon, what kinda con is thi--" Riesenlied begs for him to stand down, with an overwhelming wave of emotional weight that bears down upon a man of far weaker will and conviction, pressing down against whatever reason he may have for doing what he does to impress her desire against his. He takes a step back as the old tin can rolls from Ida in a moment of equal parts desperation and creativity-- He gets a foot caught on top of it, trips, yelps, and falls back as the 3x3 Gun's barrel opens back up and dumps back out way, way, way too many ammo cases - mismatched ammo cases - than it looks like it should ever be able to possibly fit as he lays prone on the ground, disarmed. "...Yyyyyyeah that about went the way I thought it would." The portly guy mopes as he picks up a handful of ammo and just throws it back down on the ground in frustration, and also because he just landed with his back on a tin can and it hurts. "This better not be a live grenade I'm sitting on." It isn't, and the purpose for it to /be/ a distraction is long since passed, but, at least the original intent survives... after the fact.
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
"Tch," says Jimmy, as Smiley crumples to the floor. "Paid, hm? You fine folks wouldn't happen to have a name, would you? Maybe a face? It might just come in handy for both of us." He glances over at the gazelle beastwoman, as if expecting an answer from her--which is simultaneously a mistake and very appropriate. Jimmy hasn't so much as had to fire a shot. This is both boring and unexpected--and yet, oddly relaxing compared to everything else that's happened on this backwards hellhole of a continent.
Ida looks over at Riesenlied, her lips thinning into a line. "Are you all right?" she says, the line turning into a frown as she sees the woman's terrible condition. She tenses up, a mixture of frustration and wariness and anger filling her. "And you, sir," Ida says, to the man who just dropped his ARM, "hands where I can see them." She reaches out to catch the stock of his horrible gun-contraption with the toe of a boot, and scootches it away from him, carefully.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied cups her mouth and winces softly as the portly man trips and falls over the tin-can, the many cases of mismatched ammo falling over himself. She has to commend him in some strange way for his... creativity? Perhaps, but she knows that appealing to his better nature only will work to a degree. Empathic control is pretty much cheating, but at the very least she can avoid a lump on someone's head they didn't need to have.
She listens to Jimmy, curious about their employer. She thinks she /might/ have an idea, albeit Madame Butterfly was definitely only an alias. Ida asks her if she's all right, though.
"No, I'm not," she decides to tell Ida the truth. She does turn towards the kicked ARM and pick it up--
--and arrests it of its bullet cache, dropping them to the ground and tossing it away. "... you've your family property to reclaim," she murmurs.
Wait, what?
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
Noeline is at least true to her word; she snorts in quiet amusement as the man winds his net away, foregoing the attempt to knee him to instead bow her head. "... thank you. It is actually appreciated." A pause, and then she huffs quietly to herself. WWRD? "If a job is what you want, and you're any good with machines, Wayside may be able to help. With the caveat that it may be blown up soon enough."
She's slipped down the stairs the next moment, navigating through the old store quickly - it doesn't take her long to slip in through the door where those remaining are all gathered, but hesitates when it becomes clear that there's very little left to actually do. With a soft huff, she returns to Riesenlied's side as the blonde empties the weapon and renders it safe; she doesn't pass any judgement on the Tainted leader's words beyond resting a hand on her arm in silent support.
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
"....Nnnnnope." Exactly as productive an answer as Jimmy can expect from the gazelle Beastwoman lying prone on the floor. The smiling guy, with blood pooling out of the side of his mouth at a comically exaggerated rate which is not at all funny in real terms but let's just call it funny for now points to her with a thumb as if to say, 'what she said,' and just shrugs his shoulders.
"Can I call you buddy?" The smiley guy asks of Jimmy. "'Cause, uh, I got no clue, buddy, we just took the job?" They... don't know who? They just took the job without even thinking about the whos or the whys of it. "That's the real truth 'bout it! Do job now, pay comes later, saw nothin' that paid sooner, sooooo... yep." The portly guy is, in a rare moment of agreement between Riesenlied and Ida, doubly disarmed when they both make sure to nudge or remove his ability to reach out and grasp the thing. He throws his hands up as Ida demands to see his hands. "WHOA. WHOA. WHOA." He interrupts Riesenlied's surrendering of the goods. "I... I, um. I might be kinda still sittin' on a live grenade? 'Cause we probably don't want to blow one another up. Helluva long grenade fuse though, man, that'd be just my luck, I sit there thinkin'... oh no, I'm about to get blown up, then some seconds pass and I wonder if it's gonna blow up or not, but if I wait it's definitely gonna, but it might be too late, so why bother, it's... ugh, yeah, whatevs..." Sigh. Well, his hands are up, and nowhere near that... monstrosity of an ARM, so, he can probably be safely ignored as he babbles while lying atop a plain ol' tin can. Meanwhile, the grumpy guy just waves a hand dismissively at Noeline in her gratitude and offer for a probably better life in a place that might blow up. He's in too foul a mood to talk about futures, she might fathom, just go on ahead and do whatever, he'll just do whatever it is grumpy maybe-not-human stick-figure people do with bizarre ARM nets when nobody's looking. Stuff like pop down to take some of that roast food courtesy of Muni-Muni. He doesn't intend to share or call attention to it, because he is a jerk and also possibly not human? Who knows, or cares. He has roast food that tastes a bit too sweet to his liking but he's happy with the fact the others aren't getting to eat any, and that is a good day by his estimates. (It's okay, he's still their best friend no matter how often he has flaunted this.)
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
"No, it's not a grenade," Ida says. Her eyes narrow as she looks down at the sitting man, something dangerously close to pity joining the anger and frustration and general sense of annoyance. She needs to finish up here, and /then/ get ahold of Layna's people for more information about Krosse. As soon as she puts out one fire--or tries to--another ignites. No progress. No forward motion.
"Well," Jimmy says. "If you'd be so kind as to leave your ARMs here, we can send you on your way."
"What?" Ida says. She looks over at the one-eyed man.
"Kiddo," Jimmy says, "this is something the boss needs to deal with. From here on out, it's up to her. I did my job, you've done more than enough--and the sooner your father stops worrying himself sick about you, the better off we'll all be."
Ida tries to find words. As soon as she does, Riesenlied speaks before she has the chance to. "...What?" Ida says, her eyes widening. She half-expected this to just be the /beginning/, but all that worry just sort of... falls away. It does not make her feel better. "But--"
"Oh!" Jimmy says. "Well, then. All we have to do is wait here until our pickup arrives."
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
There is a quiet, pained silence as Riesenlied copes with the wounds that are quietly screaming at her. The wound from the Fallen Sword, the wounds from Gryndille... and her own emotional wounds. But she perseveres, as she looks towards Ida with something approaching a genteel calm.
"... you saw what Golem Sado was capable of. You fought it, didn't you? I saw your Gear," Riesenlied expresses quietly. "I was riding Lily's own unit, at the time."
She quietly turns her head half-way. "Even without these fossils, Colonel Dietrich Keil found another way to repair that nightmare. And you heard him, I know you did. He won't stop at anything... until Ignas burns to the ground in the wake of his ambition."
There's a very, very tired sigh as she looks to one of the bandits. "As far as I am concerned, if the Everstead-Rey Company will take these fossils away from Ignas, then that's good enough for me." Her voice is pained, because some idealistic part of her still weeps at the idea of her brethren returning to the necropolis that is Guild Galad... yet...
She looks to Noeline and leans in her direction. "Do the right thing. That's all I ask." The right thing for who, she does not specify. That's something Ida will have to decide for herself.
<Pose Tracker> Noeline has posed.
For once, Noeline does not seem to have any words to offer; she looks like she's doing better than Riesenlied, certainly, but is still much too banged up to really offer much in the way of protest or verve. Even if she could, this isn't the sort of time to quip and snark; instead, she just guides Riesenlied towards her, letting out a heavy-set sigh as her arm surrounds the other woman's shoulders. "... let's go, I suppose," she decides instead, guiding Riesenlied slowly towards the door.
<Pose Tracker> Yarobeleedt has posed.
The terms of surrender appear to be agreed to, with varying ratios of ANNOYING QUIRKS vs. EASILY UNDERSTOOD AFFIRMATIONS among the lot of them. There is probably an inordinate amount of time spent rules lawyering as to whether or not they can also have their shoes, in the case of two of them, followed by sworn affidavits that the shoes are not excavated ARMs in any way, shape, or form (put together by the gazelle Beastwoman, no less, contrasting to her limited vocabulary).
The rail-thin grumpy weirdo outside eats all the food and leaves none for them when they rejoin him, but then they throw the weird net thing in through the window as part of the terms of the agreement, much to his complaint.
RECEIVE: x1 HORRENDOUS THREE BY THREE SHOTRIFLEWHATEVER, x1 SWEET-AND-PYRO THROWER, x1 PORTABLE AKIMBO CEMENT MIXER, x1 SOME KIND OF NETTING WITH A GUN GRIP ATTACHED TO IT, x1 NEED OF BOOZE FOR HEADACHES...
...x4 DIRTY SOCKS
<Pose Tracker> Ida Everstead-Rey has posed.
Ida's frown only deepens. She remembers what Lily told her about Riesenlied forgiving her after she'd stabbed her in the chest with a knife made of her own hatred. She looks away, while Jimmy gets about the essential business of relieving the bandits of their terrifying kitbashed ARMs. "I know," Ida says. "None of us--Keil didn't place the order." But that's not what Riesenlied asked, was it? Ida bites her tongue. There's nothing she can say to defend herself because--despite having every reason to--Riesenlied is not attacking her. The only problem here is her stubborn idiot pride.
The only problem here is her.
"I understand," Ida says. She swallows, tries to keep herself from crying, even though she knows it's useless. Does she even know what the right thing is, anymore?
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied very gently nods towards Noeline, as she urges for her to go. She has no idea of the conversations Lily's had with Ida, only an inkling that the Kislevi soldier was counselling her. ... her idea of counselling is probably a lot softer than Lily's own, and probably involves a lot less vodka. And she probably knows that it wasn't Colonel Dietrich Keil himself who placed the order, because...
...
Well, really, why would he have his name signed on it when he can dirty another's? That's not how these masterminds work, and Riese at least knows that much.
She nods gently, and-- places a hand to her chest. It still hurts, but she isn't certain whether it's physical or emotional pain... a pain that comes from some measure of catharsis.
"Be well. And stay strong," Riesenlied expresses very softly. She turns before she can show the tear rolling down her face. It feels strangely similar to when she had to express her farewell to Siegfried. It is, perhaps, the thought that after what's happened, after all she's said to her... Ida probably won't deign to speak to her very much anymore.
And as painful as everything has been, losing that budding friendship hurts.
She steps out to meet Muni, climbing onto her mount as she does so. "Let's go home," she chimes Noeline's comment.