through this disappearing land

[runsdownsteel]

The Forks usually manages to be bustling on any day, packed full of cars and people, but the advisory against travel and the fact that most methods of transportation aren't working as of the recent cold snap, people just aren't here. A handful of diehards and fools braved the cold (and the something-else, the urge to just settle in and wait things

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[threnos_oide]

T is the first to arrive, this time around; she feels this sets a decent precedent for their future crises. She has a good deal of weaponry (which she feels is rather pointless, considering how she doesn't need it), her radio, her pinpoint, and many layers of clothing, which she feels is a pretty good start. A few hours in the morgue and a local hospital left her charged up to high hell, but with Scaevola's new cybernetics, she's much better at controlling her reactions. It does feel even colder here, a fact she notes with some dread. It's worsening. She shouldn't be surprised. It can get colder still.

"I'm here," she informs her radio, "It's fucking freezing, and--ah, shit, there are more bodies."

Bodies that will be raised fairly quickly, given some poor imitation of life and sent shambling after her. Some of them murmur her name, in quick, harried tones, until she makes a face and silences them. The chanting gets really irritating fast, she's learned from experience.

"File in, stay in your groups for now, keep the chatter to a minimum but let me know where you are. Goes double for those of you on your own."

Now she's going to start looking for signs of life.

[one_drafted_man]

Grif follows along, shortly thereafter, leading in his squad. Hopefully they have availed themselves of radios, whatever weaponry they feel equipped to handle -- Kevin has been handed his silver-plated bolt-studded baseball bat, as well as a personal shield from Mack -- and, perhaps more importantly, the heated Marine armor he swiped from Sidewinder, 'cause when Grif first arrives in the Winnipeg winter, even he feels it some, through his MJOLNIR armor.

"Holy fuck, this is even worse than being on fucking Sidewinder. Jesus!" And then with a large spike in the power output of his armor's fusion generator, the heat kicked on, and he sighed in relief. "Okay, that's mostly better. Wow."

That done, he turns to his team to check that they've made it through okay and all their gear is good to go.

[witherthougoest]

There's mostly a bundle of clothing with a tiny strip of face showing where Kevin usually is, but it's a beshielded bundle of clothing clutching a seriously fucking upgraded baseball bat, so apparently yes, he made it through okay sans the hideous fucking cold.

Oh, and the landing a foot in the air and thus narrowly avoiding falling on his skinny ass. He skids a little on the gravel, pinwheeling and damn near knocking himself out with the bat, but recovering enough to be weirded out by the muffled lack-of-noise, the deserted street, aaand the way breathing feels like knives.

Scowl. Kevin rightens himself the rest of the way and looks about as if to say 'oh, did you see all that finesse? Because that was nothing for a smooth creature such as myself.' Also, his pupils are the size of nickels.

[redhearted]

Ana does not like this. She doesn't like the cold, or the eerie dead feeling all around her, or the fact that she doesn't know either of the people she's with at all, but she decided to come and she has to, for Ginger's sake. She also dislikes having a gun, but apparently it was required to be armed in some way (as if her own natural talents aren't enough).

She hugs her coat-upon-coat combination (what, it's required) around herself and waits to be told what the hell she should do. Direct combat will be a weird thing for her, but she figures she can do her best and try to tilt the odds for everyone else as well as she can. And that is, in fact, pretty well.

[one_drafted_man]

Well, this isn't exactly a picnic for anyone, really. Grif takes a quick look around, then turns to his graceful, fun-loving, totally combat-ready little team.

"Okay, kids. Just to recap, my name's Grif. We'll be starting off with a little stroll through the city, getting the lay of the land and seeing what's out there. Stick with me, and if you spot anything, make sure to say something. And I mean 'say' something, even if it's quietly into the radio. No hand signal bullshit." To demonstrate, he does his own little bit of hand signaling, which everyone on the other side of the fourth wall has probably has been waiting for: (you) (fuck-heads) (we) (have) (radios).

"Also, Ana, I haven't been told just what your deal is, but I'm guessing it's not shooting a gun, so don't feel bad about doing whatever it is you do from behind cover." He actually means 'hiding behind those of us with shields,' but is trying to be less condescending than that sounds. "And you," he continues, pointing at Kevin, "don't go charging off. Stick with the group, make them come to you. Got it?"

[witherthougoest]

"I got it," eyeshifts Kevin, in a way that should indicate to everyone, including the blind and/or dead, that at the first sign of an enemy related thing, he should probably be chained to something. He has wisely chosen those amazing mittens that turn very quickly into fingerless gloves, so at least that's not an issue!

Meanwhile, it is perhaps a testament to the fact that even though he is made of sullen, he does at least intend to follow what Grif is saying as long as it doesn't involve not touching stuff in that he doesn't say anything such as how he doesn't know how to signal for 'crazy deathwolves' anyway.

All of this is good. It means Grif won't sit on him! Hopefully! Aaaanyway, he tugs his hat further down over his ears and clutches his bat, looking sideways at Ana a little. "I'm Kevin, I mean, I know Grif already said and everything, and I know this really sucks, but...hi."

....yeah.

[redhearted]

"Magic," she informs Grif, almost absently, "It's not quite what they do here, though."

For starters, it shouldn't eat her alive! ...ideally. She's got quite the thick Eastern European accent, but it shouldn't make her incoherent (and actually lessens during extreme stress, as she forces herself to enunciate), so that's good, at least. She glances back at Kevin, and doesn't smile, or anything, but she tries to look marginally less like...uh, a constantly annoyed ice queen. The appellation of 'ice queen' is somehow much funnier when applied to this setting. Anyway.

"Hi. I will not slow us down." She feels this is a good thing to promise right off the bat.

[one_drafted_man]

Grif's helmet tilts a little, an exaggerated manifestation of the raised eyebrow sparked by Ana's statement -- both that she does magic, and that she's aware that this world has some sort of magic as well -- that would otherwise go unseen.

"Okay. I'm a little curious about how magic's different from magic, but now's not really the time. Good to know, in any case, thanks."

Her promise not to slow them down is also accepted with positive noises as Grif continues his quick survey, his armor mapping out the area while attempting to get a radio signal out to whatever positioning satellites this world might have. He's not especially sanguine about that, but it's worth a shot. In the meantime, having seen what there is to see, he picks what looks like a good direction to start at and draws his plasma rifles, one in each hand.

"Come on. Let's get going." He leads them out, one eye on his motion tracker, expecting the two yellow friendly blips of their radios following him and watching out for any red blips that might indicate approaching enemies.

[captainmcbadass]

"Yes, ma'am," comes back over the radio as Mack arrives, presumably with his team (consisting of Njoki and Cyrille; he's a little antsy about not having as much time as he'd like to get to know the latter of the two, but you know what they say about beggars and choosers).

First thing he does when he's got his feet firmly under him is produce his life signs detector. Apparently Mack and Threnody are on a similar wavelength today; let's all take a moment to be mildly terrified by that.

[magiquehomme]

Cyrille would be, if he had any reason to know to be. Instead, he's just his usual, stoic Cajun self, only heavily armed and very much dressed for the weather. He's considerably nervy about the people he's with; about everybody, really, 'cause that's just how he is.

Mostly, he's quiet and attentive, waiting for orders, keeping an eye out for any weirdness. You know, beyond the apocalyptic weather. Also... fucking freezing, even through his layers of clothing.

[captainmcbadass]

All right. So Mack's team is down one, but he's not holding it against Njoki that she's not here -- he's pretty sure in a perfect world (multiverse?) none of them would be here.

He's still and quiet, himself, aside from keeping an eye on the life sign detector in his (gloved, you better believe) hand. Not really a small-talk kind of guy in these situations; when there are orders to be given, he'll give 'em. Until then...

[paintedfeather]

Chas isn't far behind Threnody, stoic and quiet and dressed in layers and layers of clothing and a decent amount of weapons. He's got some fetishes along with his radio and PINpoint, and under all the winter gear he's fairly covered in blood-and-bone war paint. It IS colder, and that's pretty goddamn alarming. Whatever's going on is getting stronger.

"Will do. Any of y'all see Cliff or Ginger, y'let me know," is his only message over the radio. It's not a question, either. Cliff, he's decided, is something he'll take care of. And he's damn certain he's going to find his sister.

Hitting the Umbra, no matter how tempting, is something he's decided is a fairly Bad Idea. Time to set off in a likely direction and see what he can sniff out.