Block wrote:"Hmm, interesting. Apparently he thinks we don't blend in," Verum muttered to himself. Beckoning the others over and tossing a change of clothes at each of them he says, "Take them, get changed, and lets go see what we can see." Taking a coat that's slightly too large for him and a decent pair of pants Verum slips into the bathroom, changes clothes, and exits, waiting for the others to emerge, studying the map as he waits.
"Do you really think it necessary for me to change out of my uniform?" asked Xerxes. "With the base right here, it shouldn't be too out of place for a Guardsman to be going out like this."
He looked at the case full of communication devices, which were more sophisticated than what was was used to. "Er... could one of you help me set this up so that I can keep in contact with you? I'm not that great with electronics," he said a little sheepishly.
Mayabird is my girlfriend
Justice League:BotM:MM:SDnet City Watch:Cybertron's Finest "Well then, science is bullshit. "
-revprez, with yet another brilliant rebuttal.
Block wrote:"Hmm, interesting. Apparently he thinks we don't blend in," Verum muttered to himself. Beckoning the others over and tossing a change of clothes at each of them he says, "Take them, get changed, and lets go see what we can see." Taking a coat that's slightly too large for him and a decent pair of pants Verum slips into the bathroom, changes clothes, and exits, waiting for the others to emerge, studying the map as he waits.
"Do you really think it necessary for me to change out of my uniform?" asked Xerxes. "With the base right here, it shouldn't be too out of place for a Guardsman to be going out like this."
He looked at the case full of communication devices, which were more sophisticated than what was was used to. "Er... could one of you help me set this up so that I can keep in contact with you? I'm not that great with electronics," he said a little sheepishly.
"Well, we're not supposed to be... US at the moment, so I would recommend changing, but it's up to you. As for the comm gear, here let me see it..." Verum adjusts the bead for Bent and hands it back to him.
Xerxes takes the comm and after a moment's hesitation, begins to change out of his Guard armor into one of the hive's grunt uniforms.
"This way I can still carry my laspistol and knife," he says matter-of-factly. He puts the bead on and pockets a pair of filtration plugs in a pocket.
Mayabird is my girlfriend
Justice League:BotM:MM:SDnet City Watch:Cybertron's Finest "Well then, science is bullshit. "
-revprez, with yet another brilliant rebuttal.
The gangers taunted the cowering pair, moving into better firing positions as they aimed their stubbers at Zakary and Lazarus. The pair opened fire and ran, shocking the gangers into missing their first volley of shots. Fire erupted around the ruined Administratum building as guardsman and the adept attempted to fall back, away from the vicious stubber fire of the gangers. Lasgun fire from Lazarus's weapon struck wild in the dim underhive light. By chance, a lone shot from Zakary's stub revolver tore the ear off of one of the gangers, causing him to howl in pain.
As the pair fell back to a more fortified position, the gangers focused their fire on Zakary, two stub rounds striking him in the right arm, one creating a graze, the other sinking deep into his flesh, tearing through the other side. Blood flowed from the wound, but the adept kept his eyes open.
Lazarus continued to lance his lasgun around the gangers, not striking a single hit, but making himself enough of a target that a stubber shot ricocheted from the cover he was hiding behind. Focusing on the ganger that took the shot, he squeezed off three shots, each one finding a mark on the unarmored flesh of the underhive criminal. Two shots burned up his left leg, causing him to howl in agony before the third shot tore through his torso, setting his clothes and flesh ablaze. The remaining ammo the man had on him was caught in the conflagration, cooking it off in a spectacular fashion, viciously wounding two of the other gangers next to him.
Wounded and frightened, Zakary dove behind some heavier cover and fired wildly in the general direction of the surviving gangers as they limped away, clutching their wounds and cursing their luck.
As echoes from the firefight began to subside, the pair made good their escape, but before they could make it more than a few hundred meters, a booming voice roared through the underhive.
"In the name of the Emperor, halt and throw down your weapons! The Adeptus Arbites demand compliance!"
A squad of six Arbitrators, armed with shotguns, shock mauls, and bolt guns had their weapons levelled at Zakary and Lazarus, the squad commander looking stern with his shock maul and bolt pistol at the ready.
Do not meddle in the affairs of insomniacs, for they are cranky and can do things to you while you sleep. The Realm of Confusion
"Every time you talk about Teal'c, I keep imagining Thor's ass. Thank you very much for that, you fucking fucker." -Marcao SG-14: Because in some cases, "Recon" means "Blow up a fucking planet or die trying." SilCore Wiki! Come take a look!
At least, that was the word running through Zakary's mind at the moment. The Orks had always made a big deal over the word, and perhaps for good reason, because right now it seemed like the gangers arrayed against the two-man party had more of it.
The scholar caught a glimpse of the Guardsman, Lazarus, opening fire. Though hardly a soldier himself, this was not Zakary's first barbecue, so to speak. Rising slightly from the flimsy piece of detritus that served as cover, he fell back to a sturdier-looking haven under the cover of Lazarus's supporting fire. Raising his stub revolver, the scribe mirrored the Guardsman's actions and provided what little covering fire he could, to little effect but at least it would help them leapfrog to safety.
Stubber rounds whizzed through the air, pinging and panging off the accumulated debris of the underhive. After scrambling behind a convenient pile of rubble, Zakary snapped off a quick round toward the nearest ganger. He saw the flash of blood and the howl of someone reacting to a nasty hit. If the miscreant lived, he wouldn't be pretty.
Zak's momentary elation was short-lived, however, as a pair of rounds pummeled his exposed gun arm. Thankfully his flak jacket deflected one, but searing pain shooting up his limb signaled that the other had done much more damage. Yelping in pain, he bolted off in the direction they'd come from, hoping to put the rather stressful rigors of a firefight behind him. Muttering shrill curses and benedictions alike, the wounded scholar dove behind a suitable-looking bit of cover and frantically fired off a blind round in the general direction of his enemies, as if such an anemic gesture would somehow cause the gangers to give up and go home.
The Emperor (blessed be His Name) was with Zakary, it would seem, as an explosion caught his attention. Glancing up over his newfound protection from bullets, he caught sight of the burning remains of a ganger and two nearby who were caught in the ensuing blast of cooked-off ammo. Injured and broken, it appeared the remaining gangers decided to play it safe and retreat into the labyrinthine depths of the surrounding underhive.
"...Praise be to the Immortal God-Emperor," breathed Zak, clutching his wounded arm. He gathered his wits back about him and reloaded his revolver, only to be stopped short by the Arbites.
"Erm. Oh. Yes," the scholar replied rather lamely, letting the stubber fall out of his grip and dangle upside-down by its trigger guard as he lifted his palms into the air. "Perfectly willing to comply, of course, officers."
Agitated asshole | (Ex)40K Nut | Metalhead The vision never dies; life's a never-ending wheel
1337 posts as of 16:34 GMT-7 June 2nd, 2003
"'He or she' is an agenderphobic microaggression, Sharon. You are a bigot." ― Randy Marsh
Nixios looked quizzically at the clothes that had been thrown at him, before returning his gaze to Verum. "I do not think these will do an adequate job of making me look normal. I am somewhat distinctive no matter my attire." He illustrated his point by gesturing to his voicebox and respirator.
Lazarus knew he couldn't surrender to a bunch of underhive gangers. Fighting their way out was the only real option. He fell back on his training, providing cover fire so himself and Zakary could retreat by bounds. The whole thing was a confused, terrifying mess. Lazarus was glad the gangers only had stub pistols, giving him a nominal firepower advantage. He could finally exploit it after he calmed down, took a deep breath, and walked three rounds up a grinning ganger down the street.
Lazarus had never quite seen a man die like that ganger did, and it was ugly. Lazarus quickly ran over to check on Zakary, who had been hit, reloading his lasgun on the way.
Fuck, I hope he can still move.
Finding the adept had a nasty wound to his arm, but could still run, they booked it. This whole endevour had been a fiasco so far. Suddenly coming across the squad or arbites, pointing bolters at him noi less, was actually a relief for lazarus. He had been afraid the gangers might come back with friends who had automatic weapons.
Lazarus Immediatly threw down his lasgun and put his hands in the air. He knew arbites meant bussiness.
"We surrender."
There would be time to explain themselves afterward. Right now he was going to follow these arbites directions exactly. It's not like he would have any sort of chance against six well trained men and women with carapace armor and fucking bolt guns at ths range anyway.
Octavius was disappointed. He had hoped to find more assistance from the local arbites. He had fogotten how much of a strain it was for sector adepts.
But he still needed supplies. No doubt the Captain would be more than willing to provide assistance and clothing, especially with what he may have to report. He didn't want to wander into the underhive blaring I'M ARBITES AND NOT FROM AROUND HERE EITHER! He needed investigative equipment too. Maybe better weapons. But this wouldn't happen if he didn't get back to base.
I am the hammer, I am the right hand of my Lord. The instrument of His will and the gauntlet about His fist. The tip of His spear, the edge of His sword. I am His wrath just as he is my shield. I am the bane of His foes and the woe of the treacherous. I am the end.
-Ravus Ordo Militis
"Fear and ignorance claim the unwary and the incomplete. The wise man may flinch away from their embrace if he girds his soul with the armour of contempt."
"Smart," The leader of the Arbitrator squad motioned to two armored men who moved forward, taking the guns from Zakary and Lazarus, patting them down for any other weapons on their person, removing those weapons as well.
The Arbitrator checking Zakary spoke up, "This one's been shot. Looks like a stubber, sir."
"He's not dead yet, he'll last," The commander walked up to the pair, a stern gaze piercing from the man's hard face. "I think I'll take your statements now. Who are you, why are you here, what were you doing firing weapons inside of my hive?"
Do not meddle in the affairs of insomniacs, for they are cranky and can do things to you while you sleep. The Realm of Confusion
"Every time you talk about Teal'c, I keep imagining Thor's ass. Thank you very much for that, you fucking fucker." -Marcao SG-14: Because in some cases, "Recon" means "Blow up a fucking planet or die trying." SilCore Wiki! Come take a look!
Nixios looked quizzically at the clothes that had been thrown at him, before returning his gaze to Verum. "I do not think these will do an adequate job of making me look normal. I am somewhat distinctive no matter my attire." He illustrated his point by gesturing to his voicebox and respirator.
Transit Station, Outside the lockers
"Quite true, Tech Priest. I'm not sure how we could get you to... fit in as it were. Ah! You are an Enginseer with Bent's PDF unit, he invited you out for a drink to talk about... whatever it is you type talk about. Just hang back, enter and leave about 15 minutes behind us I suppose. Watch for anyone watching us, I'll try to draw a little attention, not too much this time. See if we can find anything out. Sound good?"
"Robes aren't uncommon garb in most places," said Varnius. "I'll stick with what I'm wearing until I have good reason to change."
The Excellent Prismatic Spray. For when you absolutely, positively must kill a motherfucker. Accept no substitutions. Contact a magician of the later Aeons for details. Some conditions may apply.
"Very well. I must admit my skepticism, but as I have nothing better I will of course follow your suggestion. I would like to see the map, however." Nixios held out his hand expectantly.
Losonti Tokash wrote:"Very well. I must admit my skepticism, but as I have nothing better I will of course follow your suggestion. I would like to see the map, however." Nixios held out his hand expectantly.
Verum hands the map slate to Nixios, highlighting one particular section. "I think this would be as good a place as any to start, several accesses to the Underhive, a large number of places to gather in a small area. Just the sort of thing any good lawbreaker would be drawn to."
Zakary winces and wobbles a bit as he's patted down, the wound on his arm causing no small amount of discomfort. Keeping his hands raised non-threateningly, he musters a timid response.
"Oh, ahem, well, that's quite a story. Ah, I am Zakary Knapping, Archivist of the Adeptus Administratum, or, well, at least nominally so, you see as I -- oh dear, I appear to be bleeding," Zakary puzzles over that fact for a moment before returning his attention to the arbitrators, "And, well, my erstwhile compatriot here, Trooper Lazarus, and I set off to locate the local Administratum facilities, which, by the way, seem to be in a rather frightening state of disrepair (that really ought to be looked into you know), when we were accosted by ruffians with very poor taste in fashion. They were quite unfriendly and, by the Emperor's Grace, we saw little option but to castigate them. Bah, assaulting two loyal servants of the Emperor in such a brazen fashion? I mean, honestly..."
Agitated asshole | (Ex)40K Nut | Metalhead The vision never dies; life's a never-ending wheel
1337 posts as of 16:34 GMT-7 June 2nd, 2003
"'He or she' is an agenderphobic microaggression, Sharon. You are a bigot." ― Randy Marsh
Somewhere Appropriate That Is Near The Lockers, wherever the hell you didn't bother saying they are
At first glance Yelizaveta didn't notice much difference between the clothing in the lockers and what she already had on. They were a similar color of uninspired dust gray, sturdily made, with pants and jackets constructed for life and work in an environment that could go from harsh winds to lethal acid rain to falling rubble in the space of an hour. But the differences began to stand out at her after a moment. Where she had buttons, they had snaps; her cuffs came flush to her hands, while these were made to be rolled up; the reinforced knees and elbows on her clothing were inside, and these had the patches on the exterior. Not much, but enough to guess that she wasn't from this hive, if an observer's suspicions had already been piqued. And that could be fatal.
Her mind made up, she transfered the extensive contents of her pockets to the other clothes, stripped to her bodyglove, and dressed. As she put on the jacket, she found that the jacket snaps were left-over-right, not right-over-left as she was used to. Another little difference that might have killed her if the captain hadn't foreseen the importance of local dress. Emperor knew she'd already made at least one mistake that might still be her downfall. She thanked Him for his mercy in sparing her another.
Nixios quickly copied the map into his dataslab before returning the slate to Verum. Giving no response, he analyzed the area that the assassin had pointed to. Unfortunately, he was hardly knowledgeable of such things and had to continue relying on Verum's expertise. This was not a condition he was fond of.
Removing such thoughts from his mind, Nixios focused on what needed to be done. He had originally followed the group here to determine if these lockers were enough to secure their excess equipment. Once they had removed the clothing, he replaced it with the box Greis had left for them.
Last edited by Losonti Tokash on 2008-02-16 05:14pm, edited 1 time in total.
Lazarus kept standing with his hands on his head while Zakary explained the situation. Despite all expectations, Zakary was doing quite well given the circumstances.
We'll probably be alright. These arbiters at least stopped long enough to question us instead of opening fire.
"Sir,"
Lazarus adressed the arbite leader,
"I must request my charge recieves medical attention."
The Arbite Commander eyed the two men as he looked over the weapons that had been taken from them. "Hmm. Too pristine to be gangers, unless a new shipment made it through. That one's uniform isn't for the local regiment," He looked at the pair with a grunt. "The story seems plausible. Let me guess. You asked for directions to the administratum building and someone thought they would play a joke on the offworlders. Not the first time this happened, but I don't have time to deal with fools that walk blindly into the underhive."
The commander handed the weapons back to Zakary and Lazarus, motioning to his squad. "These aren't our targets! Keep moving!" He turned to Lazarus and frowned. "Sorry about your friend, but we are on a mission. Head back the way you came. It should be safe. It's up to you if you want to bind his wounds or his mouth." A single look indicated the commander's preferance.
With that, the Adeptus Arbites disappeared to the direction the fighting had taken place.
Do not meddle in the affairs of insomniacs, for they are cranky and can do things to you while you sleep. The Realm of Confusion
"Every time you talk about Teal'c, I keep imagining Thor's ass. Thank you very much for that, you fucking fucker." -Marcao SG-14: Because in some cases, "Recon" means "Blow up a fucking planet or die trying." SilCore Wiki! Come take a look!
Apparently oblivious to the insult, Zakary holsters his stubber and waves to the departing arbitrators with his good arm. "The Emperor protects!" he calls after them, then nods to Lazarus, pleased, before making his way back toward the base.
"Our mutual benefactor seems to have thrown quite a bit of miscellaneous equipment at us, I do wonder if said benefactor saw fit to include medicae supplies..." he muses to no one in particular.
Agitated asshole | (Ex)40K Nut | Metalhead The vision never dies; life's a never-ending wheel
1337 posts as of 16:34 GMT-7 June 2nd, 2003
"'He or she' is an agenderphobic microaggression, Sharon. You are a bigot." ― Randy Marsh
As they quickly made their way out of the underhive, Lazarus said to Zakary,
"According to the directions left in a note these lockers were at a transit station. I'd say lets get you treated first. I don't think anyone on the team is a trained medic. Maybe we can get you treated at the base. We can tell them someone tried to rob us. Which is the truth. If you got any money you could try a private doc as well, but all I got is four thrones. Then maybe we can go to an actual Administratum building."
Well this op is about as fucked up as I thought it would be. Considering we're in strange fucking territory with no intel and no training in this sort of bullshit.
"Looks like we got no choice then. Have to go have the base doc treat you Zakary. Can you make back up top? Also I got to say, you handled yourself alright back there. You'll have to tell about what the hell you doing that had orcs involved sometime."
Lazarus tried to hustle Zakary along as fast as he could go. They weren't out of the danger zone yet, so he kept alert on the way back to the Guard base hospital.
Havelock reached the barracks.. almost unrecognizable. He had indeed found that pair of pants he wanted but it looked like they'd either been in poor condition or he'd dragged them through the dirt and every puddle between the here and the quartermaster then stepped on them a few times, mottling them with grime and stains. He'd removed his ecclesiarchy robes. The skull charm he carried dangled from his belt along with the vial of ashes he always carried.
Instead he was now clad in the guard issue pants, and his multi-patched gang jacket buckled and zipped up. He'd slung his hammer across his back and his autopistol was secured at the small of his back. He stuffed his robes into his backpack and slung it. He might need it to make contact with the local ecclesiarchy.
"Perhaps. I was planning on making contact in the underhive as it stands.. someone needs to bring the light to those misbegotten souls.. and besides, often the criminal element will know of things polite society will not comment on."
He couldn't help but smile at the reaction of the young woman to his change in appearance and gave a nod. "We should redevous with the others post-haste I think.'
Last edited by SylasGaunt on 2008-02-17 02:55pm, edited 2 times in total.
Cyrine stared at the cleric for a moment, barely able to believe her eyes. She blinked, and grinned.
"Very nice, father Havelock! When do we start?"
Her knife, and the Town Guard autopistol and telescoping baton she'd been handed as she boarded the transport were concealed in the drab work clothes she'd been sent off with, but the autogun they'd given her rested by her bunk. She'd used one before, against the feral Orks that sometimes mounted raids on the mining towns of her homeworld, but never on human enemies. She waved at it.
"Oh - and do you want me to bring that, ah, noble weapon, or leave it here?"
