(Untitled)

[nonplayers]

Characters: Everyone!
Setting/Location: Fort Hood
Date & Time: Day 48, one hour until sunrise.
Warnings: Violence! Language?
Summary: The Battle begins! Werewolves, Koda has asked you to return to the Fort as a "favor" - problem is, with the moon as full as it is now, you'll turn almost immediately as you leave the cover of the forest - directly

Comments

HUMANS: PRE-BATTLE ROUND-UP

[brb_napping]

[In front of the armoury, you have the local defence force assembled - at the very least you have Weller, flanked by Rookie. If you want to respond to Weller's call for a headcount, just report here, and get involved with the defence planning.]

[Action-tags to get this over quickly. Dated pre-attack.]

[specificities]

[ Here's Arthur coming up. He's had plenty of time to get familiar with this village's style of weaponry, the reduced recoil and the more precise aiming mechanics, though he hadn't thought it would actually come around to something like this. Actual use. So far, everything in this world had been rather vanilla, aside from the occasional animal attack. Eitherway, he's got this technology's version of a sniper rifle holstered across his back, and a gun that reminds him of a glock tucked against his right hip. He isn't really expecting to see the military guy he'd "borrowed" a gun off of there, but he guesses it makes the most sense that he's part of the team here. He nods all the same in greeting, since he knows at least that guy can't speak. ]

[hungupboots]

[Weller had gotten a little time in with the weaponry around the fort but his cold had, unfortunately, kept him from anything extensive. He still felt mildly ill even now, his fever not having gone away completely. But that was a moot point- they had work to do.]

[Arthur is looked at somewhat skeptically- he did remember him from seeing his damn corpse but otherwise had yet to interact with him. Time to see what the zombie was made of.] Name?

[specificities]

[ Arthur's brow raises at the skeptic look, but he doesn't comment on it. ]

Arthur.

[brb_napping]

[And while Weller was taking the man's name, the Rookie stands behind him, head tilted soon as he saw Arthur approach. Can you feel the stare through the visor, Arthur?]

[specificities]

[ HE CAN. It's unnatural. ]

You have a game plan?

[hungupboots]

[peachy. this wasn't awkward at all.] Yes. We'll divide into two separate forces and make our way to each wall, leaving someone behind to watch anyone who needs it. How familiar are you with the local weaponry? Would you feel more competent against- [and a pause here because this is so fucking outrageous] vampires or werewolves?

[fixdpointintime]

[And Jack's here, cause he said he would be, even if he doesn't really care much about this fight. He's got a couple of the UV torches and a gun with a supply of silver bullets, though he intends to see if the werewolves can survive a burst of sonic energy strong enough to liquefy internal organs first, cause he prefers his own guns.]

[brb_napping]

[Seeing the other man approaching, the Rookie actually took a step forward, to signal the newcomer that he had been noticed. He tilted his head slightly, indicating a question, while at the same time pointing at Jack, hoping that this would be sufficient to make clear what he wanted to know.]

[fixdpointintime]

[Jack stares at the pointing finger for a second, then moves his eyes to the helmet and, after a moment, his own head matches the angle of the tilt.]

Jack?

[He's wondering about the existence of an actual question, not the validity of the answer being given.]

[brb_napping]

[ The Rookie nods in approval and gratefulness for the reply - it's a bit awkward answering to gestures only, after all - and then looks Jack up and down. He lifts up the pistol in his hand, his side-arm, and tilts, then nods his head at Jack, hoping he would understand the question.]

[fixdpointintime]

[Jack gets it. He doesn't know why this guy can't or won't talk. Maybe he's always been like this. Maybe it's new. Jack never took the time to find out, and even now he only cares in the sense that it makes it more difficult to communicate with him.]

The UV lights and the silver bullets for the guns they gave us.

[He twitches his coat to the side so that the man in the armour can see the weapons in question slipped into holsters in his belt.]

And these.

[Now he holds up three guns. The two in his left hand match. They have rounded edges and a dull glow in places, and with a little neon paint they would look remarkably like children's toys. The gun in his right hand is larger and of a slightly different design - the barrel is longer, the glow is brighter, and the way Jack is holding it suggests that it's considerably heavier than the other two. These guns obviously didn't come from the Humes.]

[brb_napping]

[It's with genuine interest that the Rookie looks over this unusual collection of weapons - after all it's not really every day that one gets to see a civilian armed to the teeth like this, and apparently perfectly confident about being able to handle all those weapons in the coming battle, too.

The guns that catch the Rookie's attention in particular are the last ones of course. He tilts his head when he sees them, and points at them, nodding up briefly to emphasise that yes, this gesture asks for an answer.]

[fixdpointintime]

[Jack considers explaining, but he's starting to feel pretty weird having what basically amounts to a one-sided conversation. Especially since he's usually the quiet one these days. He tucks both of the smaller guns away, and preps the larger one. It lets out a quiet whine as he adjusts the settings along the barrel of the gun, the dull glowing lights seeming to chase after his fingertips. When it's ready he looks around until he finds an ancient and sturdy looking tree. It's probably been there for hundreds of years. Ah well, everything has to go sometime.

Jack takes aim and fires off a shot very quickly, with the practiced ease that only seemingly endless repetition can bring. There is a slight displacement of air near them, enough to blow back Jack's hair. The tree shudders, and then, for lack of a better word, explodes in a shower of splinters.]

One of the mid-range settings.

[brb_napping]

[That demonstration actually makes the Rookie jump a little - this was the last thing he was expecting, coming from an apparent civilian. He's not too sure about that classification any more now, but at least it seems like this man is well-trained in the use of his weapon at least.]

[Curiously, the Rookie tilts his head, and tears is gaze away from the weapon for a second, to look at Jack again, point at his own rank insignia on his chest, then at Jack, raising his shoulder questioning. That man has to be a soldier.]

[fixdpointintime]

[Jack shakes his head curtly, the muscle at the corner of his jaw straining with the grinding of his teeth.]

Not any more.

[He's not a soldier. He's not Captain Jack. Not any more. He doesn't deserve it. He hasn't removed the Captain's stripes from the shoulders of his great coat, but he's dropped the title. He can't change the coat. Can't bring himself to do it. Ianto loved the coat. There's a decent chance this man doesn't know what the stripes mean, though. Or maybe he just hasn't seen them. Either way, Jack won't be the one to call attention to them.

Deflection.]

You always been mute?