[mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids] ~open log~

[thom_293]

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

Comments

how 'bout a real cowboy, spartan?

[yeehawbang]

Billy was sitting on a bench with a decent view of the local cityscape somewhere between the junkyard and the nearest residential zone. He hadn't moved far out of the area because when he'd first arrived he had been warned about so much crazy going on in the 7 and 8 zones, and quite frankly he still wasn't sure where any of that was. He could get the wearable device to record and send out messages for him easily enough but beyond that he was having trouble operating the dang thing.

In fact, that was what he was doing as he sat on the bench right now: messing with the device on his wrist and trying to get it to work. He still couldn't figure out how to get the pretty blue lady back up to give him more tutorials on how to operate the thing and he was beginning to grew frustrated. He muttered under his breath at it after every little adjustment he tried.

"...damn thing... can't get... how do...? ...what is that...? ...ugh

all the cowboys forever! THEY WILL FORM A COALITION.

[thom_293]

Sure, he was hard to miss, but the reverse was not quite true at the moment. Chalk it up to the events of the last few days, but Thom was sort of hyperaware of everyone in his vicinity, and bro, you're in that vicinity.

...

However, that hyperalert paranoia failed to take certain things into account. Certain things like cowboy hats.

For a moment, it was all he could do to just stare. He'd always wanted one of those.

So it was that particular level of scrutiny that caused him to catch the man's half-mumbled words. Never let it be said that super enhanced hearing wasn't good for something.

"Hey. Need a hand with that thing?" And there he goes, sauntering closer. He kept his hands visible, because he's no stranger to the fact that he's seven feet tall and the closest human equivalency to a tank that the world has to offer.

yessssssss. /approves of this

[yeehawbang]

Billy, being the over-friendly guy that he is, automatically began to agree before he'd even looked up. When he did, however, the words died on his lips as his mouth fell open. He took a pronounced swallow to clear his suddenly constricted throat.

This guy was taller than that dark knight from the medieval period! And he looked more dangerous somehow, too. Maybe it was in the way he moved, all smooth confidence that had way more grace to it than any knight he'd seen back at the castle. Somehow that made this guy appear more serious, more likely to get the job done right the first time around.

That being noted, Billy wasn't the type to back down from trouble, even if it was bigger than him. That was probably because most anything was bigger than him at his short stature of 5'9'' and he'd learned to cope with it with ways that tended to confound his brawnier antagonists.

On the plus side for Thom, the Kid was also an avid adventure reader and was simply fascinated by the knight-like armor even if it was menacing. His eyes darted over

[thom_293]

Did that cowboy just dude him? Now Thom was really confused. By his attire, the stranger definitely looked the part of a cowboy, the clothing was just a little too well worn to be strictly for show. The word 'dude' had been around for the tail-end of the cowboy era, he supposed. Though it had more or less meant 'city-slicker

[eighttotwelve]

Before, a suit would have guarded well enough against the radiation of the junkyard.

Now, perhaps with the slightest bit of self-destructive motivation, Thane walks the junkyard with nothing special on. Just his usual clothes. No mask. Nothing. Tempting his new and improved self.

Just to see what it would take.

There was no hangover after he went out drinking with Zaeed. He felt the effects, but none of the problems that came with it. He breathes with ease, his heart does not jump, and he doesn't need to be decisive with what he eats.

So, what does it take?

His excuse is to scavenge, to see what's useful in the junkyard. To see what's there.

To his surprise, he finds... a small frame. Fitting in his hand. His brows knit, and Thane tilts his head, as if not quite understanding. Then, silently, he places it away into his jacket.

[thom_293]

For his part, Thom can't decide if the junkyard is actually useful, or some karmic overseer's idea of a joke. He's found what he was looking for, if with a somewhat ironic cant: an ammunition box from what he guesstimated to be around the 20th century. Thing looks brand new, for all that it would have been about six hundred years old by his calendar, but the rounds within are obsolete and incompatible with anything UNSC-issue.

Still, the gunpowder can be salvaged, and it's not like the twenty-five kilos is anything approaching a hindrance to him. He hefts it up onto one shoulder and picks his way through other, less useful detritus.

It's the ping from his motion tracker that does it; a solitary blip, no FOF tag identifier to speak of, but it sets him instantly on edge. The visibility in the junkyard isn't the best to begin with, and the idea of an ambush--

For a moment, he almost laughs at himself. Really? Really? He's so jumpy he's surprised Carter hasn't confiscated every weapon he has. The odds of the blip being hostile are

[eighttotwelve]

...Someone else is here. Shouldn't be surprising, but they're close by.

Paranoia briefly. Unusual. His mind goes to Motoko and he snarls internally. No; he's better trained than that. Not everything is related to her. Thane is not that foolish.

Then he raises his head and frowns. Who else? Any number of people, anyone at all.

Still, his hand rests on his pistol. Just in case. A neck snap would be quicker, but there's no reason to be lethal right away. Not necessarily.

[thom_293]

[ooc; Since these boys only did audio transmission, I'm going to assume they haven't met face to face yet? I know Thane participated on the Marker thing, but Thom was pretty removed from the 'fight' itself, so to speak. BUT IF THIS DOESN'T WORK JUST SMACK ME AND I'LL CHANGE IT \o/]

Thom's less obviously armed. Maybe he's proving a point to himself - not everything out here wants to stomp all over his entrails, right? - but whatever his final reasoning is, the hand not balancing the ammo box on his shoulder is empty as he slides into view. Of course, it's within fairly reasonable distance to the magnum on his thigh, but he's holding his hand turned away from it, palm up. Unless whoever it is has prior experience with Spartans, it's doubtful they'll expect his reflexes.

"I come in peace?"

Somehow, that phrase is a lot more ridiculous when he's not watching it on the holoscreen. Thom just grimaces, glad of his visor and its magical expression-hiding-ability.

[projectconcerto]

While the junkyard was mostly huge piles of crap, there was now a little (temporary) clearing about ten minute's walk from the entrance into zone one. On one side of the clearing a little metal building had been constructed, ten or so feet high, with thick reinforced sides and a thick roof, all apparently designed to keep the random crap that fell from the sky from hitting the person underneath it.

Inside, Maria stood underneath the makeshift protector, her head tilted to the side, her brown hair falling across her face as she looked out into the clearing. Both her nano-machine colonies were out there, swarming through the air like two clouds of very softly buzzing bees, and Maria seemed to be directing them with her hands. She didn't have to do that, but when she was working on a project, it made her feel more...involved

[thom_293]

It was the clearing that caught his attention. He'd noticed it a ways off, scouting the wreckage of what had, once upon a time been a space-going ship. It had landed nose-first, jammed into the earth, the fuselage crumpled but still providing a nice vantage point. Nothing else about it had seemed salvageable, though he'd tampered with the instruments and checked for any medical supplies or an armory cash. Whatever its original power source had been was long spent, and someone had been here before him, taking anything of use save the view its upward aft had presented

[projectconcerto]

Maria tensed for a moment when she saw the armored man approaching, but relaxed once he spoke. She hadn't met most of the people running around in the giant suits, so she was still rather paranoid of all of them. But Thom had been nice enough so far.

She offered him a bit of a smile, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear before she shoved her hands into her pocket. "No, just...building. It helps me relax." The two swarms continued buzzing about, though construction slew to a halt after a few moments as her attention shifted elsewhere.

"It's a light house I saw in a book once," she explained, somewhat sheepishly. "I had a dream about it and it's been stuck in my head so I figured..." She shrugged.

[thom_293]

"Why not, right? I can get that." He shrugged off the pack he'd been ferrying across the junkyard, full of things that might prove useful - if not to himself, then maybe to Kat. It was something to do, at least.

"Need a hand? I can't do your nifty mind mojo, but I can take care of any heavy lifting you might run into."

A fully armoured Spartan can lift just about a tonne without a lot of strain. There's a reason none of them ever really quit their day job.

[dont_know_maine]

Meta had still been keeping clear of any UNSC forces, especially after her 'meeting' with that monitor, but seeing a Spartan out and about certainly grabbed her attention. Still with her armor in serious disrepair, still without the use of her enhancements, she'll slink along to track him, trying to keep parallel without being noticed.

She found the jet pack to be particularly fascinating - she didn't have anything like that.

Yet.

[thom_293]

There was a lot to be said of instinct. Mostly, people had them for a reason. Usually that reason was to get their ass out of the fire - or into it, depending on the person (and, to be fair, the instinct!) - and Thom was certainly no stranger to the adherence of gut feelings. That was how he'd known, standing over Kat, that he wasn't going to make it back alive

[dont_know_maine]

Meta grumbles as her quarry picks up pace, making it a little difficult to come around infront of him like she'd hoped. She veers off and momentarily abandons a direct track to try to cut him off further ahead.

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.

[thom_293]

He couldn't shake the feeling.

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.

HELLO

[puppetfetishist]

[Bro is practicing his parkour! In all honesty a part of him considered it pansy-ass shit for frenchfry munchers, but on the other hand it was fucking useful. And it helped that he was retardedly fast.

So, up and over, around, catch that bit of pipe and swing himself up, land on his feet, run, drop down, keep going...

And then he stops, grabs a water bottle, chugs it down, then starts kicking around the bottle like a hackey-sack, trying to balance it in the air with just his legs.

Better than going to the gym, anyway.]

HELLO AT YOU. \o/

[thom_293]

[Using an empty bottle as a hackey sack isn't exactly something that Thom thought would ever get his attention. But the noises it caused were odd, intermittent, and worth investigating. Plus, he was pretty relaxed (as far as a hyper-paranoid supersoldier was ever relaxed, really) and in a reasonably sociable mood. Onward! For great justice.

He recognizes - not Bro himself, but the general lay of his movements - at a bit of a distance. He'd only caught a little of what he was capable of on a video feed, but that was enough. He's crazy-fast for a human, though Thom's not entirely sure that's all he is. That sort of thing sticks in a guy's memory.]

This a one-man show, or you mind if I crash the party?

[He makes plenty of noise on approach, most of it uncharacteristic. But he likes Bro, and thinks that sneaking up on him would probably be bad for both of them.]

[puppetfetishist]

[The fact that Bro's eyes (which are quite visible, as he STILL hasn't gotten a new pair of glasses) are a really disturbing shade of rose-red probably doesn't help the "is this guy human...?" thing much. ]

If you think you can keep up? Go ahead.

[He kicks the bottle in Thom's general direction. Catch, bro.]

s-sob all the HTML tags...

[thom_293]

[Thom snags the bottle out of the air. You ain't the only fast one in these parts, Bro. Nor the only one who can be cocky about it. Thom's grinning behind his visor as he speaks.]

Don't think it'd be fair, me in my armour.

[Since, you know, the MJOLNIR actually make it physically impossible to judge reflexes and reaction times by any human scale. Plus, he's pretty distinctly sure that Mendez would crawl through time and space to shoot him in the face with a rocket launcher if he treated the armour like a toy.]

You give me a couple minutes to get out of it, I'll give you a run for your money.