[mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids] ~open log~
who ; thom_293 and anyone who cares to run into him! \o/
what ; Thom is getting out of Spartanhaus to stretch his legs, explore the area and use his MAGICAL JETPACK to scope out sniper vantage points. He'll also be making a brief sojourn into the junkyard to search for supplies. Feel free to catch him anywhere your character might be that's still out in ( Read more... )
what ; Thom is getting out of Spartanhaus to stretch his legs, explore the area and use his MAGICAL JETPACK to scope out sniper vantage points. He'll also be making a brief sojourn into the junkyard to search for supplies. Feel free to catch him anywhere your character might be that's still out in ( Read more... )
It was also how he was pretty sure he was being followed. Whatever it was was outside the limits of his motion tracker - or else able to scramble it - but he just couldn't shake the sensation.
It was probably paranoia, if he were to be honest with himself. He hadn't slept much in the last couple weeks, and despite the fact that he'd faceplanted into bed and stayed inert for about seven hours - that time alone a bald-faced miracle - after he'd handed Noble back to Carter, he still wasn't up to his usual physical standards. Exhaustion, apparently, could take a lot out of a guy.
Still. Paranoia or otherwise, he did quicken his pace. Not enough to look outright alarmed, more liked he'd gotten an important transmission on his TEAMCOM and didn't want to be late for an engagement.
But he does double-check his suit's energy shielding read-out, and drop his hand to the butt of his magnum. Just in case.
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The more she thought about that jet pack the more she wanted it, and the more she wondered about the possibility that he might have an AI running it, and the more she wanted that too. The thought has her purring to herself.
But despite her own size and bulk making her a tank of a Freelancer, she was still a normal person compared to any Spartan. This was a little humbling thought pinged the edges of her senses, Is this really such a smart idea? but at the very least she had to present and see how he reacted. If there was any sort of tactical opening, she'd take it, but otherwise this was merely a test.
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Like, at all. His motion-tracker remained stubbornly free of any blips that weren't him. Maybe the person knew the armour? And the limits thereof? Or, more likely, maybe he was just going crazy.
Honestly, crazy wouldn't have surprised him much. He still wasn't sure how he'd escaped being affected by the Marker, not when it had taken down so many people on his team. Maybe he'd just shoved the psychosis aside until he had time to descend into proper madness.
He slowed his pace, halting a couple strides thereafter and raised a hand, to smack against the side of his helmet. He liked the idea of a malfunction better than an impending psych evaluation.
Still nothing. Damn.
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Maybe he's having an argument with his AI. The thought had her nearly quivering with anticipation - yes, he HAD to have an AI of some kind to run that kind of equipment, right? It made perfect sense.
If she could get it ... no, she still wouldn't be able to implant anything yet, but when else was she going to get an opportunty like this?
Watching very intently now, readying her magnum and waiing for just the right opening ...
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So, no can do. Helmet stays on. But he does turn just enough to catch a glimpse behind him.
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It's a decision made in the split second he's turned; Meta breaks her position and darts forward, a straight line from her hiding place to a low retaining wall, at the same time firing successive shots from her magnum. Accuracy wasn't her strong point - she always preferred heavy weaponry to personal side-arms - but this would have to do given it was her only weapon.
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He has. Absolutely nothing for cover. And his shields are at zero. Well, that's awesome. He rolls onto his stomach and fires off a three-round burst in the direction of the shots. As soon as his assailant stops to reload - it sounds just like the HE pistol, which puts it at the standard magazine size - he's going to bolt for the nearest cover. He can't discount the possibility of there being more of them, either.
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Hearing running footsteps, she chances the open and hops over the wall, shields not even at half, and dashes across the street in a mad run between cover while sighting amd firing again at the Spartan.
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That pause is enough for one of those bullets to catch him just between the armour joint at his elbow. He grimaces as he feels it ricochet off the bone and his arm instantly goes numb from there down. A warning blares in his HUD, something about a sudden spike in his blood pressure and adrenal levels, and he promptly mutes it.
He switches to a one-handed wield on the AR, sights along her path and fires off another burst, moving parallel to her path at the same time. All the cover, man, he wants it bad right now.
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But that last shot means she's spent her magazine. She slaps the pistol back against the magnetic holster on her thigh before lunging at Thom, but this just draws herself close enough that even an inaccurate shot clips her shoulder armor and drops her shields completely. She staggers as her shields flare, reaching out to make a grab at his wrist with an inhuman growl.
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He uses the grip on his arm to jerk his attacker closer, and if that works he's going to try to hook one leg behind their knee and throw himself down on top of them. He's fighting more to restrain them than to outright attack or kill, and he know it's the armour that's canted his thinking so. He's killed plenty of Innies, plenty more Covenant, but before now, anyone armoured has been a comrade.
He's pretty sure he could kill them, one-handed or not, he's obviously the stronger of the two, but he'd rather just scare them into retreating. Or knock them unconscious and pack them back to base.
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Oh yes, she's familiar with the armor and it's limitations. Her own is littered with cracks and holes, and as she's taken down there's a crack as his weight and velocity further stresses the already comprimised plating. There's a breathy grunt as the wind's knocked out of her, her shields down, and her HUD flashes orange in response.
This just infuriates her more, and she starts thrashing madly to get loose, trying to get her legs under him to kick him off, hand tightening on his wrist to keep that AR away.
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The thrashing, though. For the time being, he just wants to pin her down, but she's not exactly making life easy for him.
"What the hell do you want?" he demands, piping the audio through his suit's external speakers.
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She replies with a vicious snarl, the only sounds coming from her EVA are animalistic and fierce, angry; nothing identifiable as actual words. She tries to twist his wrist around to get him to lose his grip on the AR, never ceasing movement.
She's still kicking at his thigh, trying to get a foothold, catching periodically at the Tac-pouch there and in danger of knocking it loose.
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The Freelancers he's met so far have been dicks, sure enough, (with the exception of York, whom he liked), but this is in another league altogether.
The second blow to the faceplate makes him grimace. It takes a lot of force to break the pressure-gauged, polarized glass, but he doesn't like the idea of somebody just whaling on it.
re: the AR. He's only got the one magazine for it, half spent now. She's not carrying one, so he doubts she has any munitions for it, and with all the haranguing she's doing--
He pushes back from his attempted restraint of her to try and drive his injured elbow against her chest plate. Goddamn, he just wants her to stop moving for a second.
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Knock him loose -- get free -- retreat.
Those were the only hings occupying her mind at the moment, that she'd need to step back anf re-evaluate how she could take him down.
As she was, this wasn't enough.
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