(no subject)
=XF= Main Street - Chemekata Military Base
The winding forest road slows and straightens here, pulling to attention for the little cluster of buildings known as 'town'. The only trees here are those planted neatly in well-kept yards and green spaces. A small outdoor park area boasts several picnic tables and a basketball court, as well as a number of benches set up under the shade of tall oak trees.
Along the sidewalked street, sunlight glints off the tall, glass-fronted administration building, which bears an unavoidable sign proclaiming 'Titan Enterprises'. The other buildings are more modest on outward glance, with none of them appearing to rise above two stories. At the far end, just before the road disappears into the forest once more, a street cuts parallel to the main road. To one direction, the vast hangars and runways take up an impressive span of space. To the other, the modest residential building sits perched on a hill, the better to take advantage of the excellent views.
(Exits : [T]itan [E]nterprises, [R]esidences, [T]raining [F]acilities, [C]linic and [L]abs, [H]angars and [G]arage, [W]ilderness, [F]ront [G]ate, and [E]mpty [F]ield )
(Players : Viola, Rob, Andrew, and Brielle )
"My girlfriend works here too," Andrew says to the woman of the pair of guests he's a escorting, all clean-shaven and snappily dressed. He can't suppress a vaguely deer in the headlights look at the mention of /marriage/, mind you, but he turns it into a look of manly fellow-feeling for Brian. "It's certainly different. A little farther from family than I used to be."
Careful to avoid the metal detector, Rob laughs a little bit and holds up his hands to show his ringless fingers. "Nothing that serious, quite yet. You're liable to give me a heart attack if you mention it too often, mind you." He winks at Brian. "But, I do know of some of my co-workers whose spouses are here as well." He smiles at Andrew, and gives a little shrug. A little white lie.
The guests: Brian, a brown-skinned man with grey-salted black hair, a snub of a nose and a black goatee, and Elaine, a long-haired redhead with heavy bangs and a light spattering of freckles across her fair skin. They both seem cheerful and at ease in their dark suits, walking with their drafted tour guides and carrying folders for the taking of notes.
"Oh, don't worry, I won't try and scare you too much," Elaine assures them, and she laughs, brightly. Her accent is vaguely Southern, possibly Texan. "I understand in this line of work, making time for your family can be difficult."
Brian rolls a look in Andrew's and Rob's directions respectively. It is a look that sympathizes. /Women/. "So is there any equipment you don't have around here that you really find yourself /missing/?" he asks them both, pushing past Elaine's apparent hangup with wives.
"Equipment?" Andrew gives Brian a smirk. Oh, he's got all of his /equipment/. "Sometimes it's annoying having a long drive to get to a place with a theater that plays more than arthouse or blockbuster movies. He slides hands into pockets to wander more comfortably, since they're just strolling to fill time while chatting."
Rob shrugs non-committally. "I don't find myself needing a lot of equipment for work. A projector, a laptop... that's really all I need most of the time. But this is a quite large facility. I'm sure there's someone, somewhere, who was wishing that they could have something that they don't - even if it's a free espresso machine for their bedroom." His eyes twinkle mischeviously. "Emphasis on free, since I know many of the people who work here already have a not-free one."
It is possible that one of the people Rob's little white lie refers to is on the approach: Sal Harper, sharp-featured and broad-hipped, with a folder of her own tucked under one arm. Dark hair is bound up, and the lines of her pantsuit (charcoal, green stripes), while classy, no longer serve to completely conceal the growing baby bump below the brilliant emerald green of her blouse. She slows at the sight of unfamiliar faces in the public_ok! area of the compound, and slows down somewhat. A hand is lifted in wave, and her expression is cautiously welcoming. Hello, strange people!
Unfamiliar faces? Hmm. Perhaps they are unfamiliar faces. Despite the salt of grey in his black hair, there is something indefinably youthful about Brian, perhaps a charming insouciance about his snub nose. If a nose can be insouciant. Who can say? "You can't blame a fellow for trying," he says cheerfully. "After all, a business deal should be mutually beneficial. For all parties, am I right?"
It is possible that there may be something vaguely familiar about the skew of tiny freckles across Elaine's fair skin. But that flash of red hair falling down Elaine's back, that would be memorable, wouldn't it, if you'd seen it before? Who knows where deja vu comes from, anyway? She lifts a hand to give Sal a big wave, evidently quite happy to see another representative of the fair sex. "Why hello over there!" she says, friendly.
"Have you ever been to Washington?" Andrew asks, forehead creasing as he chases the deja vu down. He looks at them both, making the question broad-spectrum, really just a delaying tactic as he gives his mind time to work.
With a quick wave to Sal, Rob holds up his other hands as if in surrender to Brian. "No arguments here. If my company wants to buy the extra product, I'm sure that you and yours are more than happy to sell it - at a sufficent commission, of course." he says, with a wink just like a comrade-in-arms. "Not, of course, that any of us have anything to gain besides the joy of the job and the knowledge that we are doing our companies well." A sly grin spreads across his face, slowly.
Sal's smile broadens, but less of it meets her eyes: it is a smile meant to put people at ease, while behind it the machinery of her mind chases down cues that don't fit just right. "Hello there," she answers back, bumping up the broad-spectrum southern presence in her voice. It is not quite enough to pinpoint it as Texan, but it is enough to add a note of warmth. "I'd welcome you to Titan, but I see you've already made our welcoming committee's aquaintance."
"We sure have. These gentlemen have been very helpful," Elaine says, smiling with an encompassing gesture at Andrew and Rob. "Hi, I'm Elaine Crawford, and this is my associate, Brian--"
"Brian Keating," Brian pipes up with a happy smile and the tip of a wave at Sal.
"--Though no," Elaine goes on, with an apologetically aimed smile at Andrew. "--Can't say as I have. Well, you know, we've flown through SeaTac once or twice, but you know they do say that airports hardly count."
"Nope," Brian agrees to answer Andrew's question, with a slightly puzzled look in his direction. "Business is all about /relationships/, to my mind," he goes on blithely. "What we're doing here is starting up a relationship. Feeling each other out. You know. Hopefully we can reach the back scratching point early. I think I can say freely that Elaine, that is, Ms. Crawford and I are very impressed with your facilities here."
Rob scoffs, good-naturedly. "I think you mean our /gorgeous/ welcoming committee, thank you very much." He sniffs, then breaks out into a full grin. He sticks his thumbs into his belt on the sides of his pants, letting them rest their easily. "I'm glad that you enjoyed our facilities. I assure you, it was quite a pleasure escorting you around." he continues, diplomatically.
Andrew rolls his eyes at the jargon about relationships, but-- "Wait--" Something settles in Andrew's expression. /That's/ where he saw them before. He lifts his wrist. "Need back-up out on the street," he snaps into his comm, and moves to block in the visitors.
"Sal Harper," is offered as a return to the introductions, but as Andrew's request is snapped out, the hand that she was moving forward to extend in greeting dips instead to the shoulder holster cocealed under her suit-jacket. She doesn't drop her folder, but there is a subtle menace in her expression and the set of her shoulders a she, too, moves to block.
Rob's eyes pop open wide in surprise, shooting Andrew a quizzical look. But still, it is always easier to apologize than to risk everyone's life. Quick as a flash, his hand went into the waistband on his back and he pulls out the tranquilzer gun, aiming it steadily towards the visitors. "Easy now, easy now." he says to them. "No fast movements."
"What-- what are you doing?" Brian asks. He stares at Rob's tranquilizer gun as in horror, like a mousy, excitable man suddenly faced with something drastically bad and also really bizarre happening to him.
"No fast movements?" Elaine doesn't even bother to look frightened. She favors Rob with quick flash of a sharp smile. Sharks smile like this. But she doesn't smile for long. Her hand moves almost too quickly for the human eye to see as she seizes Brian's hand. It's maybe a heartbeat, maybe two, after her fingers clasp with his that both of them disappear in a billowing cloud of black, sulphurous-smelling smoke.
"Goddammit!" Andrew stops with his gun halfway out, and brings his comm up again. "The teleporter's on the loose with the speedster. Everyone be ready for him to jump into sensitive areas."
Amber is hurrying down the hallway of the first floor, from her room ever since hearing the call on the comms. She's got one gun loose at her side and the other holstered at her hip. "Wanna tell me what's going on, exactly?" she inquires as she starts checking the nearby rooms. "Clearing the first floor now."
Rob swears loudly, lowering his weapon to the ground. "Shit, shit. God damn it." he growls, softly. "I'm with you, Amber." he says, jogging over to follow her and watch her back.
Sal's file is a mess of papers fluttering to join the heavier folder on the ground as she finishes whipping her gun out of its holster, but even her faster-than-baseline response is slower than the speedster's darting hand. "/Shit/," she swears, twisting toward the Analysis building even as the smell of the teleporter's smoke tips her complection from pale to slightly green. "The speedster," she snaps in answer over the comm, "and the teleporter. Got a good chance this is a jailbreak," she adds, before dropping the channel. As Rob moves to intercept Amber, she closes the distance to Andrew.
"Whoever's closest, get to the prisoner," Andrew adds to Sal's analysis, starting a run toward that building himself. "The Piper kids we've been chasing. They're /here/." Hopefully that's a little more illuminating for Amber and Rob.
Amber adds her, "Shit," to the rest of the groups as she moves out of the room she was clearing and starts heading to the area the prisoner is currently being held. "Rob and I are on our way there," she advises with a gesture for Rob to move with her.
Rob follows Amber at a quick jog, his weapon hanging loosely in one hand. "Damn tranquilizers," he mutters softly to himself. "They don't aim right." he pouts softly, as his eyes dart back and forth. Not the sort of situation one really wants a doctor involved in - but, at least he knew how to aim a damn gun, even though his practice has been mostly that - practice.
The secured basement in which Gregor is currently being held still shows every sign of being secure. As they approach, all seems quiet. Normal.
Sal is hard on Andrew's heels, gun drawn and pointed at the ground as she runs. "Do we know who was on prisoner duty?" she asks; it is a little unfair that even with the added weight and shifting body mass, she doesn't pant.
Andrew follows the rest to the basement, but sticks to the back, providing support and cover as they check for signs of intruders or wait for them to arrive.
Amber reaches the top of the stairs to the basement and starts to ease her way down, gesturing for Rob to stay at the top just in case she needs to be covered from that position, and just in case they try to leave that way. Her back presses to the railing, both guns now at the ready as she slinks down the stairs, eyes straining to cover every inch of the exposed area.
With Andrew and Rob both deployed as cover, Sal joins Amber in the slink down the stairs, with a nod to acknowledge that she is following her lead. As they move, she eases a second, smaller piece out of the second, smaller holster at the small of her back. It is not quite as badass as it having been tucked into the waistband of her trousers, but much more secure.
It's quiet down here, lit as it normally is, clean and empty of anything suspicious. Whoever is on prisoner duty is at their post, although we will vague that, and the prisoner himself is asleep -- whether naturally or under sedation, it makes little difference at this point. There are no telltales of sulphurous smoke on the air, either; it smells ... musty, in the way that basements smell musty, with a vaguely medical tinge, maybe. Everything seems normal.
The gaurd is given a gesture, told silently to be on alert as Amber moves with her back against the wall as she finally reaches the bottom of the stairs. Sal also gets a gesture (a totally nice one), indicating for her to cover the second half of the room.
Sal returns the gesture with a nod, and eases into position to cover the rest of the room. As it continues to be all clear, something nags: natural suspicion is finally given in to, and she lifts the arm with her wrist-unit, so that she can speak into it quietly. "Psych Bitch and Brighteyes have the prisoner covered. Send teams to check on agents Irony, Magik, Dynamo, and Nightmare." Then she flicks the comm off again, and drops back into an action-ready crouch.
The basement still seems empty of anything suspicious. All is as it should be down here. Well, unless you ask Gregor. He would probably like to not be down here.
Amber secures herself a position that can provide at least a little cover as she keeps a steady gaze over the room. "We sure this is what they came for?" she inquires. "Let us know when teams have secured the others," she calls into the comm. Just in case.
"Hell if I know," Sal answers, inching her gun up and then letting it drop slightly again. "We're flyin' blind, here." With depthless patience she so rarely displays with people, Sal settles in to wait, and monitor the chatter. Kids okay, y/n?
The kids seem to be okay, when they are contacted. Tom might be in danger of caffeine overdose. Nadia is in literal stitches.
"Cover me," Amber tells Sal as she sinks into a crouch and closes her eyes. "They wanna play, we can play." Her guns are rested with her hands on her knees as she reaches out with her powers, searching for the only auras in the vicinity that she doesn't already know.
Sal steps out of her crouch, lips compressed into a thin and serious line as she covers Amber while the younger agent is left unawares by use of her mutation. La la la guns.
There don't seem to be any unusual auras in the vicinity at the moment. There's no one here who shouldn't be, anyway. Whoever was here before, they seem to be gone now.
Amber frowns and opens her eyes slowly, head shaking. "They aren't anywhere within my range. They've either left, or are waiting to spring. We should set an extra guard down here and have two people on the monitors at all times to make sure we don't miss it if they come back."
"Make it so, Brighteyes," Sal agrees, stepping down from alert and holstering both of her weapons. "Hell of a thing."
Amber calls the orders out over the comm and secures a second guard for the basement, and one for each of the Piper kids as well. Better safe than sorry. "If they come back, we'll know it." Amber keeps one gun in hand as she holsters the other and gestures for the stairs.
"Not if it's after the end of this week, -I- won't," Sal says with a trace of rue. "Figures." She jerks her head toward the stairs, indicating that Amber should take the lead again; the smaller-calibre pistol is eased back out from under her jacket again, and she moves to follow.
Amber takes the lead and begins to ease up the stairs carefully. She doesn't even question the fact that she's leading, even though she's the non-bulletproof one of the two. "Hey, if they never came back again, that'd be awesome." Amber doesn't seem convince THAT will happen. But still. "I'm sad to see you leaving."
Because Sal's player temporarily forgot about that point. OOPS. We'll say it's because a pregnant Sal is an over-cautious one who isn't above thowing her still-fellow agents to the metaphorical wolves. Or because she's still convinced that the most likely assault is going to be one on the rear of their position. "That would be fucking fantastic," she answers, equally unconvinced. Amber's statement takes her aback slightly, but she covers it well. "Can't say I'm not going to miss it," she finally says, "or most of you. But I'm just not seeing how 'secret agent,'" and oh, there are at least one-half of a pair of finger quotes, "and mom are really compatable. Who knows. In a few years, I may change my mind."
"You're making the right choice. Being a mom is a full time job. But it'll be weird without you here. After Colorado, seeing you around was kind of like a staple for me if that makes any sense?" Amber moves to the top of the stairs, checking the hallways before gesturing Sal up to safety and sliding her second gun away.
Sal makes one last sweep of the stairs behind them before judging them well and truly empty, and stepping back up into the hall. With Amber's upstairs all-clear, she re-re-holsters her second gun. "Don't worry," she assures, grey eyes amused, "I'll still arrange to come crashing into your ribs any time you feel the need, Nash. 'Sides," she continues, "it's not like I'll be on the other side of the planet or anything. You're allowed to visit."
"Hardi har har. I think my ribs can do without another Sal impact. Thankyouverymuch," Amber snorts as she shakes her head. "Try and STOP me from visiting. I love babies. So long as, you know, I can give them back. That's the best kind of baby." Amber grins as the two head down the hall, her hands snaking into the back pockets of her jeans. "You and the others have totally worn off on me. I'm kind of dissapointed those kids didn't show up. I /wanted/ to shoot something."
Sal flashes Amber a grin in return, tucking her hands into the pockets of her suit's jacket. "Haven't got the first clue what to do with 'em when I can't give 'em back," she admits, because inexperience at parenting is a wholly unvulnerable topic: everyone knows she hasn't done it before, at all. "I know I've got McGee plannin' to descend, as well--" she gives Amber a sideways look, briefly contemplative. "Need you to tell me what you think of an idea I've got."
"Well, me and McGee will probably come together if I have any say in the matter," Amber smirks at the nickname and hooks a shoulder in a 'come out with it' gesture. "Lay it on me, sister."
Despite the added roll to the motion, it cannot be said that Sal's movement down the hall is anything but a swagger. "That halloween shindig Pryde's been planning. Think I should make the offer to have it at the new place? Bigger than the lounge here, and it'll get people off base somewhere that no-one will care if people start brawling." Or having crazy flashbacks.
Amber purses her lips at the thought before finally nodding. "Never hurts to ask. And it's always a good thing to get us out of this place and somewhere that we can still be ourselves. Talk it over with Kitty, see what she's got planned." As theycome up to he door, Amber pauses and reaches a hand out for the knob. "But tomorrow, you're taking me to shoot things. Just FYI! I'll catch you then." She slips into her room a moment later and goes to fall into bed.
X-Factor has some SURPRISE VISITORS. X-Factor hates surprises.