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Crossroads; Chaos on Verbena
Topic Started: Jan 7 2013, 10:51 AM (3,660 Views)
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Lighthouse Keeper

<<From 'Verbena Days, Verbena Nights', 'Into the Wild' and 'Through Your Hoops'>>

"Who the hell did you piss off?!"

Joseph screamed above the gunfire with no way of knowing if Biff had heard him or not. It hadn't been long since the group had gone their separate ways. Now that they were reunited, it seemed both their journeys were coming to an end.

Saren, Cyrus and Jo had arrived at the Rusted Anchor almost an hour earlier, quietly and anxiously. An order of drinks had been purchased, the trio kicking back and mulling over the information they'd recently gathered from Jo's informant. They were on the run, now. Someone was specifically looking for them. Someone was specifically looking for those Vials they had commandeered from the Red Dawn.

And that someone wasn't the government.

Before too long, with so many answers still out of reach, the rest of the group arrived. It didn't look good. With a lack of grace in his stride, Biff entered the bar first, the door nearly coming off it's hinges. He was sweaty, dirty, panting heavily and gun in hand. Behind him, Remy and Jenna followed. They both looked just as exhausted, just as scared.

"Took you're time now, didn't you? We're were starting to-" Joseph, standing up to greet the newcomers, was drowned out mid sentence by the ringing of automatic gunfire and the shattering of glass all around the bar. He dove for cover. So did the rest of the group. In that moment, it seemed that hell opened up.

Taking a defensive position, with no idea of just who they were fighting, Joseph beckoned Cyrus and Saren to his side as he ducked low behind an overturned table. They're backs were to the back of the bar, where the bartender had fled through a door to the kitchens. Whether or not the back entrance was safe was another matter.

Biff, Remy and Jenna had followed suit only a few feet away, taking their own overturned table in stride as bullets tore the building apart. Outside, vehicles and all, a large force of armed men and women were fanning out around the building, blowing holes in anything and everything.

Outside, a revolver in hand, Brenn Carlson fired another few rounds into the building and then ducked behind a nearby jeep to reload. Coming face to face with one of the newer recruits, a chap whose name he'd forgotten since their original briefing, Carlson gave a cheeky smile.

"Bit of fun, isn't it?" The return fire from inside the bar raked down the side of the jeep and Brenn winced for a moment, expecting lead to bite his foot. It didn't, to his relief, and he readied for another volley. His companion followed, rifle in hand, and unleashed a few shots through the front windows of the building.

"We'll try our luck with the back door!" Joseph could barely hear himself over the cacophony, but Biff and the others nodded in agreement. There was no certainty that the back wasn't being watched, or even stormed by enemies, but they had no other options.

"Stay low, follow m-" Joseph was cut short again by the gunfire as he started for the back door. There was a spray of blood and an abnormal snap of the man's neck as, headfirst, he hit to floor. It took a moment for the other members of the group to realise what happened, but it was already too late. A puddle of blood start to seep from a small hole in Josephs cheek, his body motionless between the two groups.

"Jesus. Nice shot... what did you say your name was?"

"Kamino. Travis Kamino." There was a small smile, but otherwise the man remained devoid of emotion to Brenn's compliment. Carlson didn't mind, though. He liked this man. Someone to keep close when all this was over. With that thought, catching him by surprise, the gunfight began to end. With a roar.

Hurtling towards the ground at breakneck speeds, a small pod of some kind plummeted to the streets below. Only days before the Red Dawns shuttle, crew on board and all, had dropped into the city uninvited. Now came another craft, an escape pod, and it was headed straight towards the bar.

The gunslingers started to scatter outside the bar, holding their fire as they made for cover. Seconds later, it seemed as if the entire city rumbled and shook. The small pod smashed into the pavement, taking one of the large SUVs with it, half submerged in the street.

Silence fell across the city block, most civilians having already fled due to the huge firefight taking places. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, now the gunfire had halted, and the scene looked like something from an apocalyptic movie, not a city street. These people, hunting Biff and the crew, had gone all out. And now, in silence, they all stood scattered around the street, staring in disbelief as the small escape pod buried in the street starting to whir. A single hatch started to descend, a misty smoke issuing out at the pods systems shut down.

And from the mist, gun in hand, strode Tobias Hawke.

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Though silence reigned as the mist rippled from the pod, systems shutting down quietly, he could smell it. Thick, hanging in the air like an invisible miasma; a repugnant smell of war.

Of chemical cartridge and gunpowder.

As he set a heavy boot onto the landed door, a silver, block-like revolver of massive size held in one hand pierced the veil first, and a figure pushed forward from the haze; amber eyes scoured the scene before him like hawks far above, wide and alert. Obscured by a wide-brimmed akubra hat, the figure seemingly rose above the escape pod, well over six feet tall standing straight.

With a long, tubular duffel-bag at his back, he was wearing a long, dark brown duster, heavy fabric clothes of dark and dirty disposition, and a striking, red bandana around his neck.

Like he stepped straight out of the 'West' of Earth-That-Was...

The figure scanned the scene, turning slowly, like a security camera swivelling; his eyes widened.

As if in slow motion, the foot-long block of a weapon in his right hand snapped in half, the rectangular barrel and revolver chamber rolling forward in a purposeful way. Long, thick casings, not as frequently used as chemical rounds, sprang forth from the chamber, tumbling upward. In a flurry of leather and movement, his other arm came up, knocking the cases out of the air as it shifted over the chamber, sliding new fresh bullets into the weapon. With his thumb, he flicked the chamber, sending it spinning faster than a tumbling ship in atmo.

Like clockwork, as the first of the shells touched the metal of the escape pod's door, signalling the end of their descent, the figure flicked his arm, snapping the weapon closed in an instant. The spinning chamber clacked to a resounding stop, and all fell silent on the street again.

The crunch of footfalls echoed as the man took full advantage of the surprise and silence. He took stock of the men at either side of him, number, cover, and what he could see of their weapons.

As if uncaring, possibly even blindly unaware of the destruction that surrounded him, the figure strode off the escape pod door, duster trailing in his wake, and made his way immediately toward the shot up bar door, or what was left of it.

With an outstretched left hand that reflected oddly in the light, he pushed the bar door away, all but falling off its hinges as he moved. His revolver was held to the sky.

"I drop in for a gorram drink and this is what I find?"

The hammer of his revolver slid back with a deafening click in the still air.

"The hell is goin' on here?" He called into the bar, shifting ever so slightly to position himself between something solid and the armed mercenaries outside...
Edited by Balketh, Jan 7 2013, 04:42 PM.
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As the gunslinger entered the bar, stunned silence swirling around the mercanaries outside, he caught sight of the five strangers huddled near the back of the room just as they caught clear sight of him. Cyrus, Saren, Jenna, Remy, Biff... they all recognised this man. His face. It'd been all over the news for a long time now. And here he was.

Outside, huddled behind a jeep for cover, Carlson wiped his brow with a handkerchief as the man in the longer duster casually strolled into the bar. His eyes widened, less with fright and more with confusion, and he nudged his nearby companion, the one who'd shot Joseph moments before.

"Is that who I think it is?"
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It seemed everything was going right for a change. Remy had been able to make contact with someone who could take them in for a while. It would mean a bed, and some decent food, luxuries which Remy couldn't dream of getting now he was 'on the run'. It would give him a time to appreciate what he was leaving behind.

Transport was arranged, and Remy found himself in a home, with an actual bed. Linda hadn't been there, but her brother seemed to be showing them the same hospitality that she would have. It seemed that the siblings had the same kindness. With him being in the medical field, he thought it would help with the vials, but no such luck, although the man had seemed pretty wary of them. Remy thought nothing of it, the man was opening up their home to them.

But Biff had noticed something, and before they knew it, the three of them were on the run once again. Remy ran with the vials on his back, and his belongings with him, running with them was a lot harder than the trudging through the sewers, but Remy had his life on the line, and it was funny what a little adrenaline would do. The next thing they knew, they were in the bar that they had all arranged to meet in, and Remy was jumped behind a turned on it side table, using it as cover.
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On the alert after entering Remy's contacts home Biff didn't see the man as a threat and the house seemed clean enough. Biff couldn't on such unfamiliar grounds turn his attention away and having cleared his head in the wilderness of his last weeks antics he was primed for action. Trouble! Noticing the contact narc them out they made a break for it.

Crashing through vendors stalls and local patrons of said stalls the group dodged, bobbed, weaved, zigged, and zagged their way through the streets bursting into the very bar they were to meet the others. After taking cover Biff unslung Suzanne and with a pause through the enemy fire leveled her off and with a controled breath began to return fire. With no idea how many were behind them Biff's hopes were to simply surpress the enemy till they could reorganize and fall back together.

A sonic boom followed by an increasingly familiar impact shock stopped held up Biff's fire. Directly after the shock a man walked into the bar as if nothing was going on outside.
Tobias
 
I drop in for a gorram drink and this is what I find? The hell is goin' on here?
Without lifting his head above cover Biff shouted back at one of the few men he'd ever heard of that intimidated him, "Well partner we all came in here for the same thing but this neighborhood seems a might nastier then we expected." Biff waved his left hand twice and shouted, "Pull up a table there's plenty for everyone." Using his sarcasm helped ease his fear of the gunslingers arrival. I just hope that he's on our side.
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This Is My Quest - A tale of regret.
Nobody's Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone - Cole and Biff go walk about.
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There was a brief silence as the exchange took place. Outside, the militant force seemed to hold a collective breath as they listened to the two men call blindly to one another. Before Tobias could reply to the nonchalant invite from Biff, it was Brenn who broke interrupted.

"Friendly." The first word was quiet, tv king aloud. A second later be turned, directing his voice to the rest of the mercenaries surrounding the bar. "He's a friendly! Open fire!" Carlson, like everyone else on scene, was still coming to terms with exactly what was going on. The escape pods crash landing didn't change the plan, though. He was here for Biff Calhoon. He was here for Flint Corso's crew of the Red Dawn. If the newcomer got in the way, so be it.

The bar once again exploded in a hail of gunfire.
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As a fresh wave of death ripped through the bar, Tobias simply seemed to lean back against the thick wall he'd positioned between himself and the gunfire. It wouldn't last, he knew that much, but the resounding clicks, the shells littering the ground inbetween the chaotic shattering of wood and the blasts of gunfire told him many secrets about the battle...

Mostly small caliber... Mostly automatic... Somethin' else in the mix though...

Scanning the bar casually, carefully keeping to his temporary cover, Tobias spied the fresh blood, the body of the man who had gone down. The angle, the lay of his body, the gunslinger growled softly.

Pivoting on the spot with a flurry of duster, the gruesome, tall figure turned to lean parallel to the doorway he had just entered, what was left of it. He seemed to all but ignore the other man's nonchalant invitations - there were other things on his mind.

Ears pricked, eyes were wide, his mind was reeling - reams and reams of information poured into him from all sides, and he could see, hear, smell so many things, his vision began to cloud over. In the briefest of fleeting instants, he knew so many things about the situation: the caliber of bullets being fired their way, the make of the guns firing them, the positions of men outside based solely on bullet trajectory, how long his cover would last, and so much more.

However, it was as if his mind were simply not up to the task of keeping this information; these hereto unknown, but highly useful bits of information slipped in and out of his mind faster than each passing bullet. Heavy breaths followed as the notorious gunslinger tried to latch onto something useful, some kind of hint or key; his revolver lowered.

To an external viewer, the man simply seemed to lean almost casually against the thick wall he had taken cover on, close to the edge of the entrance; leaning on cover that would not last long. By his reckoning, he had one shot to make from here, before they picked up where he stood and decimated him.

In a flash, the man slid only an inch out of cover. With barely an eye out to sight his target, and a flick of his arm, a powerful crack rang out, a sound that seemed to just edge above the hellstorm of gunfire.

It was the kind of shot that would make a man's heart stop, in a war - like the sound of a marksman taking his first shot from some distant hilltop, yet this was so close, you could almost feel the recoil.

It wasn't just a random pull of the trigger; his stance, leveled shoulders, held breath, narrowed vision - it all happened so quickly, before he kicked off the wall, making a full-body dive further into the bar, for the next piece of available cover.

His target wasn't the closest mercenary, nor the one with the biggest gun. It wasn't whoever was most clearly out of cover, or whoever was giving them the most trouble.

His bullet was meant, quite simply, for the man who had spoken. The man who ended the brief ceasefire. The one who gave the order.

Take the head from the creature, and the body dies... Usually.
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Travis lowered his rifle a fraction as the unknown newcomer headed toward the bar. The man beside him, Brenn, prompted him about something. He focused on the shifting figure, narrowing his eyes momentarily before the image infront of his face grew suddenly. He caught sight of the newcomers face for a brief moment - before he'd finished the side thought the still image was referencing the mission file.

///94% MATCH - the invisible words flashed inside his head before fading back into the nothingness they'd come from. Travis considered this for a moment before turning to Brenn with a slight nod. "It is." he stated simply, one arm quickly loosening his grip on the weapon and moving to his side. "Get down." he added as a professional courtesy to him.

In one fluid motion he removed a palm sized sphere from a pouch attached at an odd angle to his side, made a fist around it, then turned and threw it over his shoulder, high into the air. As if to ruin the surprise, a nearby grunt yelled "SEEKER!" before diving for cover pointlessly.

Travis let out a soft sigh and got back to work. Sitting with his back against one of the armoured vehicles, weapon by his side, it must have seemed he had no interest in the exchange of gunfire. Instead the interior of his visor flashed with various feeds taken from nearby screens. He quickly created an overlapping, layered image of the diner from multiple angles and selected a large, load bearing wall toward the front.

In the meantime the seeker soared through the air, hovered for a second over the battlefield as it awaited orders, and then true enough to it's name, dived down toward the diner with a shrill whine that reminded Travis of the good ole days.
Stephen Tiberius
"Handsome" Harry Mallow
Travis "TK" Kamino
Col. Samuel Brock - XO Dreadnaught

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Jenna looked towards the back door. She had followed Remy and ducked behind the overturned table. When the shooting finally stopped she realized that she had been holding her breath.

Once she took a deep breath she started looking for a way out and her eyes fell on the kitchen door. She had watched the bartender head through the door towards the kitchen. It seemed like it would be as good a place as any to try and find a way out.

As she went to move towards the door something hit the ground hard.

**Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze now what? She thought as she scampered back behind the table.


Quote:
 
"I drop in for a gorram drink and this is what I find?"


Quote:
 
"Well partner we all came in here for the same thing but this neighborhood seems a might nastier then we expected." Biff waved his left hand twice and shouted, "Pull up a table there's plenty for everyone."


Jenna poked her head around the edge of the table and took another deep breath as she looked at the person who seemed to have fallen out of the sky. It took her several seconds but she realized who it was standing in front of her.

Tobias Hawke.

She ducked a little lower behind the table and tried to keep an eye on things and then suddenly the shooting started again.

He just stood there. He had taken cover and then faster the anything she had ever seen he took one shot he was moving really fast and then seemed to stop.

Jenna then ducked her head back behind the table. All she and the others seemed to be able to do right now was to wait and hope that the shooting would stop again.


She wasn't sure but she thought she heard someone yell something outside but she wasn't sure what was said in all of the noise.

She thought about how all of this had started. If only she had jus stayed put on the station she wouldn't have got herself into this mess.



**Stupid Son of a Drooling Whore and a Monkey
Edited by browncoat _pinky, Jan 11 2013, 06:45 AM.
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When the mysterious Tobias dove for cover Biff popped up from behind his cover took aim at the first target he identified the bullet flew just inches away from the diving Hawke winged a complacent grunt who was more relaxed then he should've been. That will hurt ass. Biff ducked down switched tables was back up and shooting again. He knew that taking out ones and twos of an enemy who's strength was unknown at this point wasn't as much of a priority as keeping their heads down till Hawke could find cover.

This newcomer was not their friend, Biff knew, but he was in more trouble then the rest of them combined and in Biffs mind the official story didn't check out. Not that I'd ever say it to him but I think there's a lot more victim in Tobias then even he knows.

The men outside were unusually quiet, but that was all the same to Biff. He kept moving from position to position, firing well aimed shots wounding as many as he could while keeping them down and not firing back.
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SEEKER!
Biff heard the grunt yell but he didn't hear the sound associated with a Seeker. Before he could think on this more he heard the all too familiar whine and he dove back to the bar and covered his ears. I hate this part.
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All throughout the gunfire and the shouting, Saren was as still as a statue, her eyes fixed upon Joseph's body. Blood was pooling around his skull, and flashbacks upon flashbacks were hitting Saren left, right and centre. All she could think about was the day she had lost everything. She thought she was getting better at this, considering it had been a long time ago, but every time she thought she was coming to terms, it hit her harder and deeper.

Saren moved like a ghost whenever Cyrus moved her behind cover. It seemed as though she was in some kind of trance, not even flinching when bullets ricocheted off the walls. Joseph was consuming her, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to escape this time...
What I did not know has cost you dear, for there is no cure for death..

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Never Forget - The Tale Of Cyrus & Saren
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Carlson ducked his head back around behind the vehicle split seconds before the trigger on Toby's gun clicked. The high caliber rounds tore straight through the vehicles hull, but none managed to penetrate through to Brenn. He wiped his brow, clicking a new clip into his handgun, and grinned a shady grin to his companion from beneath his sunglasses.

"Feisty little ai chr jze se duh fohn diang gho, isn't he?" Ignoring the lack of response he received from TK, Brenn swung back around and fired off a few more shots towards the bar, clearly having little care about where his bullets went. The small building was being hit by dozens of bullets a minute - anyone inside wasn't going to last long.

Recoiling and taking another breather, dusting down his grey suit jacket, Brenn heard shuffling beside him. On cue, as the older man looked up, Travis was just launching a small device up into the air.

"Get down." The words were casual, polite, though Brenn was already ducking as low as he could as a high pitched whistle echoed through the street.

Inside the bar, a gruff indistinct yell came from Cyrus, and he plundered forward, smashing Saren down to the floor underneath him as the small device entered the bar, stopped whistling, and then promptly exploded.

The air around the group went white, a flash as loud as thunder and a bang as blinding as the sun itself. The bar - indeed, the street beyond, shook violently, almost as much as the initial escape pod crash had. The explosion was huge.

As the devastation ended, pieces of wall and roof falling down all around the area, a thick smoke issued through the entire scene. The bar, the street beyond, the entire city block, was filled with thick smoke and small fires crackling away.

Brenn couldn't see a thing, one hand instinctively grabbing hold of TK's back as he rose to his feet, gun in his other hand. The bounty hunter had some of the best gear in the small mercenary group, Carlson assuming that his visor would be able to locate their targets through the smoke.

"They all done for?" He somewhat shouted the question, his ears ringing and his voice barely audible to even himself.

Inside the bar most of the group had been thrown to the floor one way or another. Saren, pinned beneath Cyrus, was mostly in one piece. The old man, however, wasn't moving.

Biff, Remy and Jenna had all been thrown away from the overturned table and were strewn across the room, dazed and confused and bruised. Biff had a huge gash down one of his arms, though it wasn't deep enough to have done serious damage. He hoped.

Tobias, near the front of the bar, had been thrown against the far wall and slumped down near the front windows. The body of a mercenary from outside had flown in through the window during the blast, now strewn across the gunslinger. A dead woman, who'd just moments ago been shooting at him, had acted as Toby's body shield.

Grasped in her dead hands was a fully loaded, fully automatic, light machine gun.

Ai chr jze se duh fohn diang gho = Crazy dog in love with it’s own feces
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Remy wasn't one for conflict, let alone guns. Remy felt that they had no honor and were just cheap. Its why Remy didnt carry one himself, but here, caught out in this firefight, it seemed like he would need one. Remy looked over at Jenna, making sure she was alright.

There was silence, for a moment, it seemed like time had stood still for that moment, it felt like it was a lifetime, but in reality it wasn't. One word, and it had all started again.

Remy didnt know what in in the blue hell was going on. It seemed like 'the crew' were going from one caper to the other, picking up strays on the way, strays who seemed to be in the same predicament that they were in. this wasn't the life Remy had envisioned when he decided to leave the Guild, but this was the life that Karma had been dealing him.

The next thing he knew, was he was blasted across the room, he shook his head as he started to come too, his ears ringing, he was discombobulated, but the first thing he did, was looked for Jenna. Hoping she was ok.
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Something troubled the gunslinger as he came to a sliding stop. The sound of bullet on metal - bullet on metal that he himself had fired. It was easier than most knew to tell which shot was yours, and easier still to tell when it hit flesh or bone.

His shot had done neither. With a growl, he rolled onto his back, and propped up his broad, tall body with elbows, staring at the doorway with a hellish-scowl.

"I..." He growled.

"I... Missed?..." Everyone in the bar could hear his disposition switch. The sudden anger, the seething rage.

He had only come to a skidding stop when the whistling came...

Instinctively, the long, heavy-set gunslinger raised his revolver, this time straight up into the air. He held it high with both hands, back to the floor, and cocked the hammer.

Come on...

He all but forgot the rest of the people inside the bar. His focus was on one thing.

Come on....!

The whistling grew like a coming hurricane, a hellhound hell-bent on one thing: seek and destroy.

COME ON! His mind screamed, but in actuality - he had no idea what he was waiting for. The whistle, the silent moment, the adrenalin and sudden burst of ludicrous excitement he was feeling...

Was he going to die?

Nope.

Something sailed into the building. Something small and blinking.

There was a crack. It did not come from the device. It came from the handcannon the gunslinger wielded.

Without accompanying gunfire, in the silence, the shot was deafening.

Aimed almost straight up, the gunslinger took a shot at, of all things, the seeker. There was the briefest moment of silence, less than a split second after he fired.

His shot had connected.

That's not a normal seeker... The thought flashed through his mind as he failed to recognize the device overhead. Its make, model, and shape, were unknown to him. Also unknown to him was.... Just about anything that had happened in the last two seconds. It seemed the gunslinger had given in completely to raw, subconscious control. It wasn't doing him a disservice... Until now.

The man's amber eyes went wide.

Bad shot.

He rolled, left arm shielding his head as the bullet shattered the device. Almost unchanged, the explosion ripped through the room.

All in the blink of an eye, anyone would be hard pressed to believe the man on the floor, the notorious, wanted criminal, could have even made the shot, let alone known it had not been right.

He wasn't too concerned with their belief, however. Just his own, which still struggled to come.

As the dust settled, and ears ceased to ring, the man felt a weight on him. With a bloated grunt, he shoved the corpse off of him with one hand. Slightly concussed from the blast directly above him, and the body's impact, he was surprisingly no worse for wear.

As the dust and debris in his mind came to a stop, and he took weight of the situation, Tobias immediately came to two realisations:

One: He was angry. Far angrier than he could ever remember being. Not that his memory extended very far...

Two: He was angry because he missed.

With wild, wide eyes and a thirst for what could only be described as an apology - an apology that ended with his bullet in their head, the stranger shot up, all six foot five of him. As he did, something clattered away from his body.

A glint came to his eye, and his stubbled jaw cracked into a far-reaching smile only the foulest and darkest of creatures can abide.

As he stepped clear of the rubble, the figure bent low, and much to his own surprise, found himself with a new toy.

Still with revolver in hand, he used the block barrel of his hand cannon to flick the chamber back on the fancy-lookin' LMG he had just scooped up.

Fully. Loaded.

With a smile now what some would consider manic, the gunslinger held true to his name. He stepped out into a small pile of debris - cover wasn't far, but at least the shooting had stopped long enough for him to sight his target. As he laid eyes on the gouge, the missing hunk of metal where his own bullet had passed, the rage surfaced in him almost immediately. With a scornful glare out into the battlefield, the man roared.

"I. DON'T. MISS."

With the LMG gripped with surprising ease in his left hand, and the hand-cannon in his right, the legend-carrier opened fire.

And hell descended with it.

The high-tech LMG desperately tried to kick against the man's left arm, but seemingly to little avail. He squeezed the trigger in bursts, two shots at a time, while his right hand, wielding the revolver, squeezed off four shots faster than the LMG could hope to match.

His eyes flicked back and forth with lightning speed, barely keeping up with the timed bursts. His shots rang out left and right, covering wide swaths of the battlefield on either side. He seethed more with each squeeze of the dual triggers, keen on taking as many heads as possible.

When he fired the fourth shot of his revolver, the slinger knew the chamber was empty - it always felt so light when it was empty. With a flick, a twirl, and a push, the gun was holstered, and he took two hands to his new toy.

Without a word, he drew the butt up to his shoulder, sighting it like a long-range rifle, transferring into his right hand, with left on the forward grip.

In almost no time, he was firing single, precision shots, and the rifle almost never seemed to buck or recoil, unable to budge against the grip of his left hand, forever laying dead flat against his shoulder. The barrel whistled as it steamed, sailing from left to right on the battlefield, peppering each side of the engagement with targeted blasts intermittently, a one man 180 degree advance fire.

Every few shots, which was to say every couple of seconds, the gunslinger would take a still breath and fire off a handful of rounds aimed directly at the heads of the man who'd fired the seeker, and his partner. He was less concerned about covering fire, and more concerned about trying to actually put one of the rounds into their skulls.

"RUN." He suddenly called.

"FLEE OR DIE! YOU CAN'T KILL WHAT'S ALREADY DEAD! AAAHAHAHAHA!" He boomed the dire threat to the enemy above the endless, spaced clacking and whistling of his LMG, as he began to step forward, shots ringing out between each footfall.

Strangely, his call seemed to echo both ways - toward the mercenaries he laid down a torrent of hellish fire before, and to the crew at the back. He strode away from them with his careful, sighted shots, into what cover he could find while standing tall and uncaring.

It was like he was covering them... Covering them to escape.

That didn't sound like Tobias Hawke at all.
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Biff shook his head clear and locating his ruck pulled a bandage out wrapping his arm. Grabbing out some more ammo Biff reloaded and began to switch his focus from recovery to attack.

Seeing Hawke walk out into the fray Biff followed to what remained of the front wall. This idiot can't be the infamous Tobias Hawke. He's insane. The gunslinger was popping off controlled burst out in the open with no regard for his safety.

Biff followed him out and took cover by the hulk of burned out hover car. Biff began covering Tobias. Cleaning up any straggler that popped their head that Tobias missed in what seemed to be a tunnel vision stupor.
Tobias
 
Run. FLEE OR DIE! YOU CAN'T KILL WHAT'S ALREADY DEAD! AAAHAHAHAHA
Taking out two more mercs the gunslinger was to preoccupied to notice Biff realized that Tobias was right on two levels. They could use this as a means of hot stepping out of this fire. Reluctantly Biff fell back to the ruins of the bar.

Inside the scene was dire. "Remy, Jenna are you two alright?" Looking over to Saren and Cyrus Biff was disheartened that the old man was unconscious. "Saren are you okay? How is he?" Going over to the dead merc on the floor he scavenged what he could off her. Then Biff rigged one of her frags to go off if her body was moved. Picking up his gear Biff looked at everyone. "Alright guys Tobias isn't going to last to long the way he's going out there and I think we should take this opportunity to get out of here." Hoping against hope that Cyrus would be alright. Even though Biff didn't know the guy he had a veteran vibe about him that made Biff comfortable. Biff had looked forward to getting to know him. That and his ribs hurt bad enough he really didn't feel like carrying anyone. That, of course didn't mean he wouldn't carry him if it came to that. "We have to fall back and lay low someplace."
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Jenna lay on the floor blinking the dust and grit out of her eyes.

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"Remy, Jenna are you two alright?"


She stayed still taking account of everything that hurt. She wiggled her toes, her fingers and then very slowly sat up.

“Um yah I think i'm alright.”

Jenna got up slowly and started moving towards the kitchen door. “I'm going to go and carefully check if we can get out the back. She looked back at Remy

“Are you ok? You kinda look a little fuzzy and the room seems to be spinning maybe I'm not as ok as I thought I was.

Jenna then knelt next to the doorway and slowly peaked into the kitchen hopping that there was a clear way out.
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Brenn Carlson, effectively in charge of the militant 'death squad' that had arrived on the scene, watched in terror as Tobias Hawke exited the building. His eyes wide, handgun falling limp by his side, the man had no words as he caught sight of the huge piece of military hardware - his military hardware - that the gunslinger had managed to get his hands on.

"Son of a -" gunfire cut him off mid sentence as he dived - with total disregard for the fine threads he was wearing - behind a pile of debris on the opposite side of the street. The automatic fire, especially being so unexpected, tore the street apart. Screams echoed from the hardened soldiers - killers, murderers, war veterans - they were all cut down as the fire blew across them all.

The maniacal screaming from Tobias didn't help morale.

Brenn watched as one of his sharp shooters, a man whose name he had forgotten, almost managed to crack a shot off at Hawke. Moments before, though, the young man was shot down by another shooter - Biff Calhoon, the man they were here for.

Things were looking grim.

Inside the bar, as Biff re-entered from the gunfight, things were still looking grim. Cyrus wasn't moving as Saren shimmied out from underneath him, several chunks of shrapnel having torn into his back, his leather doctors bag strewn across the floor beside him.

Peering into the kitchens behind them, Jenna saw the coast was clear. There was an open doorway across the kitchens that seemed to lead out to an alleyway. From where she stood, it looked like a clean escape.

Outside, the situation had turned on its head, and morale had broken.

"TK! With me!" Carlson, using his hirelings as meat puppets and distractions, slowly leap frogged his way across the battlefield, clearing the street soon enough. Once he was clear, the gunfire slowly disappearing in the background, he started to sprint, checking to see if the bounty hunter was following.


<< Brenn Carlson leaves to "Scattered" >>

Outside the bar the hail of gunfire finally came to an end, the huge weapon in Toby's off-hand smoking from the barrel. The scene before him was one of destruction, dozens of dead or dying mercenaries lying across the street corner. Those few who had survived were already fleeing in different directions, liking planning to lay low from their employers for such a failed encounter.

The entire scene fell silent, save for the crackling of small fires and the distant yell of sirens that the gunfight had brought.
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Return fire had all but ceased. He could see them scatter, he could feel the morale break, the fear descend over the battlefield. Fear he wielded.

"YOU CAN'T RUN FROM ME FOREVER! AAAAAAHAHAHAH!" The figure bellowed as he spied the two men, the leaders of the outfit, ducking from over to cover, running for their pathetic lives.

The barrel of the LMG he held had begun to glow, a seemingly endless torrent of death pouring from the spout he held.

The fire seemed to cut out almost prematurely, leaving a brief period of crushing silence in its wake.

The figure stared out at something, just past the battlefield. A wry grin began to spread onto his face as the gunfire began a new, but in bursts of odd lengths, sometimes even single shots.

With two hands and a careful aim, the man fired the high-tech LMG at spot of blank wall across the street... Writing something out in bullet holes.

It read, in surprisingly neat, large block letters that ran on a slight upward slant:

HAVOC

Finally letting the weapon slip from his grip to hang at his side, the man's great figure, standing on a pile of rubble in soft, cascading light, slumped somewhat, and the barrel of his LMG seethed and smoked, just coming away from its glow. His shoulders seemed to droop ever so slightly, though the smouldering barrel of the LMG still couldn't reach the ground.

He just... Stood there. For what felt like an eternity. To him, at least. He couldn't have been there more than half a minute, but he was almost a statue for the time.
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In the course of the pandemonium Biff was trying to pick up all the moving pieces to this puzzle he seemed to have handed to him. He had to find a way to get these people to safety figure out what to do with Hawke and find some means to clear their names. With all the gun fire and yelling both from the enemy and from Hawke that Biff was reverting to robotic like war time thinking. They were under attack so much it might just be better to let instinct take over.

Saren kneeling next to Cyrus.

Cyrus too unmoving.

Remy close to his ward Jenna.

Jenna looking out the backdoor for an evac.

Tobias his guns finally silenced.

Joseph.........

Biff gathered their gear up from it's scattered chaos. They needed to move and it was up to him to get them going. No one else was going to do it. He didn't know if it was fatigue or shock or if the Verse had just finally snuffed their fire."All right everyone pack up we have to move. Now."

Walking out front again Biff saw the calling card this force of nature left for their enemy.

HAVOC Couldn't have said it better myself.

Looking at the gunslinger with his glassy stare Biff said,"Tobias Hawke, Biff Calhoon. We are leaving and you are more then welcome to come with us." In the back of his head he knew how dangerous this man was but he also knew that if he was on their side he'd be their dangerous man. Besides Remy and I could sure use the help. Biff turned to walk back "inside".

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This Is My Quest - A tale of regret.
Nobody's Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone - Cole and Biff go walk about.
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The back door remained clear, as Jenna had scoped out, and the sounds of law enforcement slowly making their way to the scene grew louder and louder. in the distance the roar of engines could be heard as small skiffs took to the sky, likely searching for the felons by air.

Everything had spiraled out of control, fast.

Saren had pulled Cyrus off her and now sat silently beside him, having gathered the contents of his black leather medical bag together. On one side was the old man, numerous different wounds across his body from the blast, and on the other side was the limp remains of Joseph Kobayashi, the pool of blood around his head growing by the minute.

Saren just sat there, one hand holding Cyrus', and sobbed silently. She wasn't going anywhere.
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