lucetilogs | There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

Who: All remaining draftees
What: Zombies! Zombies! Zombies!
When: The 29th to 31st
Where: Vaskoth
Summary: Please read here for event information
Rating: B for BRRAAAIIIINSSSS

On the 29th, the Malnosso announce over the radios that the power cap will be lifted to a full 100%. Carol broadcasts a message.

On the 30th, the Malnosso declare Vaskoth completely lost. Those with radio access will discover that the enclosure is to be bombed.

On the 31st, survivors will have one last chance to evacuate or try to find the cure. 3PM is do or die.

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[At some point on the 29th, a single voice manages to hijack nearly all of the active communications devices within Vaskoth. It’s unclear how this is possible, but she broadcasts her message three times after the evacuation is announced. Attempted replies receive no further radio response. ]

Hello? Hello. May I have your attention? [A well-spoken, firm, but warm tone.] To any uninfected personnel entertaining the Organization’s evacuation advisory, I urge you to proceed to the tunnels and accept. Many -- if not most -- of you must have loved ones and possibly family members waiting for your return. There's no shame in sparing them their worry and their grief. Leave with clear consciences; I suspect all of Vaskoth feels grateful for all you've already done.

But even still, I know there are those of you who would sooner stay. Let me be brief: there are efforts being made across the enclosure to find a cure for this...disease. I embrace these efforts wholeheartedly but I'm not convinced that my employers will be as optimistic. Their pessimism means that us busy bees will be buzzing against a ticking clock.

Clear the hospital. And the MSF labs to the south. You can make the most of your work by using both of these places to your full advantage. Start with what you know; work forward from that point. You’re all extraordinary people, or you wouldn’t be here. I have faith in you.

Once Carol had finished her speech, Davis pulled back the radio so he could attach it to his belt. He was grimmer than he usually was. This was among the worst situations he'd been in and it was written all over his face.

"False hope is going to get more of them killed, Carol. They should be getting the hell out of here while they can."

[ooc: Note, anyone who happens to be at the tunnels waiting to leave when the broadcast goes out may observe or overhear this conversation.]

"And most of them will," she replied with utter certainty. In a crisis such as this one, those with conviction stayed the most calm. Or so she believed. "But there will be people who choose to stay and I'm not comfortable questioning that choice. After all, I don't see you gearing up to leave..."

Her expression only now flickered with concern, however laughable it is that the non-combatant should fear for the soldier.

"I'll be pulling out, too. But someone has to keep the door open for the rest." His attention fell on his P90. He busied himself with checking the safety. "Things are going to get worse. The suits aren't going to let this spread. I think we both know Foster didn't make that Shitball himself."

"Mhm." Carol hummed her agreement -- although she clearly found the slang distasteful. She hadn't wanted to alarm those on the other end of her broadcast, but even her optimism had its limits. Their employers weren't going to sit back and wait for things to get worse before they got better.

Her eyes dropped. She watched his weapon. "But they'll warn us. All of us. Won't they?"

Perhaps she didn't expect Davis to know one way or the other; perhaps she just wanted his word, no matter what its worth.

"They'll warn me." He said it with conviction. The suits may have been arrogant bastards and at times, absolutely evil. But you didn't screw over the military. Not with a woman like the Commandant around. He looked up from the weapon. With the constant night sky in Vaskoth, he was without his sunglasses. Actually, he'd lost them in combat already. So there was nothing hiding his steely gaze.

"And then I'll warn them. But they'll have to save themselves. There's no chance in hell I'm sending my men into that hell out there."

"I understand."

And -- bless her -- she meant it. As much as she'd prefer to see the MSF marching out to the very end, she could forgive them their orders, their protocol, and their own reasons for standing back. But it was hard not to feel a stinging nostalgia for the man Davis used to be. You would have been out there to the very end, she thought. Thought it but didn't say it. It wasn't her job to remind him of how much he'd changed; circumstance did a perfectly adequate job.

"And I hope you can understand the fact that I can't leave." She glanced back into the tunnel depths. "Not yet."

You will. One way or another. There was something in the passing look he gave her that communicated all it needed to. He'd be sure she wouldn't die here of all places.

"I don't." With the safety on, he pointed the gun at her. "This is a security situation. I've got the authority to have you removed from here. By force if I have to. Regardless of what department you're working for."

It was an empty threat. They both knew it.

Edited 2012-10-30 18:29 (UTC)

She didn't smile. It wasn't a smiling sort of occasion. But Carol interfaced with the world in a very inclusive way, and so even Davis's pointed firearm brought about an expression more entertained than frightened.

"Specialist Davis," she squared her shoulders and addressed him rather formally. "Of all the people in this wide wide world and all the other worlds, you're the one I fear the least." With one finger, she tapped his gun's barrel. "But you're also the one I respect the most."

His insistence was commendable. Beautiful, in its own way. "Even still...Vaskoth is my current assignment. It's been my assignment for quite a time. I can't abandon them. Not now. Not while the brains -- especially those from Luceti -- are working so hard to find a cure."

Luceti. Carol feared he no longer held the same faith she still kept stoked and strong.

He seemed to deflate when she carelessly touched the edge of his weapon. Davis lowered it, seeming to have lost some of the fire there. He turned around instead, walking a few steps away. In that moment, they were too close for comfort.

"They're good for fighting. They're good for a lot of things." He turned his head to catch her in his peripheral. "But they're only as good as we were. Not better. Not enough."

"They could be. One day. Perhaps one day soon."

Her upper-body twisted just to keep track of him; she turned at the waist instead of just turning her head. "Don't tell me you've given up on them...."

As gently as she'd tapped his gun, she tapped her right temple -- indicating his missing glasses. Although it might look as though she was referencing some grander motive, she was only commenting on the lack of accessory. "Did you lose them?"

A nod. "The new ones."

There was a meaning there. He hadn't had new ones in a long, long time. He moved to one of the carts, gathering up a backpack and looking through the supplies in it. Counting them meticulously.

"First day, even."

"Then I know what gift to send you on your next birthday." A pause. "You always were a fright to shop for. What do you give the man who once knew what it was like to have everything...?"

Carol was just that sort: the sort to send annual gifts and letters and leave messages for a man she'd long ago (and mutually) agreed to maintain an uneasy, distant armstice. It didn't matter whether she recieved replies or not. It never mattered whether he returned her calls when she was in town and asked to meet up for lunch. She did it anyway.

It was the right thing to do.

"I'm glad you found something for which the old ones were worth losing."

"That remains to be seen."

He turned around, backpack under one arm. As he stood in front of her, exactly within arm's reach, he held it out for her.

"Supplies. Jewel will escort you to wherever you're going, but she's coming right back when she does. And that's only because she doesn't have the right kind of body to be infected."

The life of someone under his command was one of the most valuable things he had to offer. It was never offered lightly.

Edited 2012-10-31 01:28 (UTC)

Arm's reach. It was as good as anyone could hope for, really. And Carol felt grateful for it. She felt grateful for his help; his support; his sacrifice. Years on, she still felt grateful for him taking that ever-vital first step.

Careful not to touch even a fingertip of hers against a fingertip of his, she plucked the bag from his hands. She lifted it free.

"Thank you, Davis. Thank you so much." Her words broke beyond the genuine warmth she showed for just about everyone else. This gratitude came from the gut. "I won't keep her; she -- like the rest of your team -- are too important to tie up on escort missions. But..."

Carol gingerly threaded her arms through the straps. "I'll thank you again on the other side," she said with a fierce hope that they would both survive it -- penaltyless.

There an unusually solemn look on his face. For those who knew him well, it would be best described as worry. For anyone else, it was just business.

He placed his hands back on his weapon.

"Stay alive. Find a cure."

It was the only warming words he had. He turned to go back to his own duties.

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There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

BROADCAST ON THE 29TH

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