Nokgorka -- Bahamut

Jul 05, 2008 16:02


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nearzero August 16 2008, 02:11:20 UTC
"Go ahead, Konstantinov. I'm here."

It always annoys, the lack of static hiss on the newer comm models; a part of the dirt and confusion gets lost in the cleaner transmission, and it makes it damnably easy to feel disconnected from the events all around. Kyuzo tightens his hand around the broken edge of a balcony. This used to be some sort of convention hall, by the design of it, and now he stalked its halls like a violent ghost - alone, in a place made for meeting.

There was a painful sort of irony in that, one that no doubt the woman who'd died on the grounds below his vantage point would have been quick in pointing out, were she here.

She was not here.

"We can't locate the enemy scout. If she is reporting in to 'Gorka Command, she must also be using a TSP."

Kyuzo presses his lips together. He wonders if he should feel cold yet; he doesn't. "Hm. So we've both lost her."

"Do you think you were spotted?"No." It would be a laughable question if he hadn't seen the girl with his own two eyes. She was a 'Gorka, all right ( ... )

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runmakitarun August 16 2008, 02:23:17 UTC
Kyuzo is, of course, right. Makita is hunkered down behind the shattered remnants of an old bank. The cover is scant, but she's a small girl, and she knows the terrain.

A soundless voice echoes in her ears Makita, report status on the Red warkaster.

With a grimace she answers, equally silent, "She... looks like she's praying."

Praying? Why would she--

"You heard me!" she cuts the voice off. "Now until the Elders decide to send me some heavy support I'm going to stay on station." Then, as an after thought, "And stay out of my brain. That damn T.S.P. gives me a headache."

The voice fades and Makita shifts slightly, angling for a better view. It was almost as if the witch was...

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joiningyousoon August 16 2008, 02:47:01 UTC
Maya stands in the snow. If she were thinking clearly, she'd know that this was madness; understand that she should not be standing out in the open like this, surrounded by buildings for snipers and 'Gorkas and scavengers to take shots from.

There are two graves, two mounds of snow, in front of her, and they're all she can think about.

Both are marked by a stick crossed by two pieces of wood. On the left: 'PROTO' and 'LOVE' have been gouged into the wood with a careful hand. On the right -- on the right...

GONCHAROVA. (The patch torn from Alex's jacket.)

MERCY.

Maya can't remember how to breathe.

I've stepped into the surreal, a dreamworld-- It's your grave, Alexandra. All the questions--

Inhale; exhale. Her throat is trying to close.

Don't faint, you fool. Breathe, damn it. Her hand is shaking. That's it; calm.

She turns away. The nearest krawl is tipped on its side; the next nearest is burned out. She feels a flash of something when her eyes flick across the body lying against it; she doesn't look closer. She can' ( ... )

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nearzero August 16 2008, 02:56:56 UTC
"Aaaagh, dammit--!"

He has just enough time between realizing what Maya intends to do and Maya initiating the 'kast to throw up his arm in an attempt to shield his eyes and then put it back down, because it wouldn't do a damned thing to help; he shuts his eyes and curses, instead, as he feels the protocol shimmer to life and tug at the world around him, shaking out all the ghosts that aren't still alive.

"Damn R.E. Protocols ..."

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