nexus_crossings | Into a Rising Wind

Entry tags:

event

Into a Rising Wind

Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.

A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.

And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…

No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.

There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.

Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.

At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.

“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”

That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.

She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.

They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.

((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note

Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ya'know… it is likely that is a false trail." Harley notes from where she stands, surveying the situation. "If I were going to take something to somewhere else... and I was worried about people following me... I would make a false trail. A red herring. A run-around."

She is not going to add her commentary on the 'selfish curs' remark he made. There is a reason why the food is not here. And Harley believes that they are not going to find those answers by making assumptions.

"Doesn't really matter if it's a trap or not. The only way to go is forward."

They've already committed what little supplies and food the camp has left betting on this outing. They either find their quarry or something else or the lot of them may as well not come back at all. Even if they did all that would be left was a camp of starving people. Times are as desperate as they are.

The extra food all of the people here have been provided came at the cost of feeding others. A fact Natasha can't ignore knowing just how many people are back there waiting. Counting on them.

"Let's get moving."

Furiosa stands up in the snowmobile cab, craning her neck briefly to look at the scene of the abandoned camp. Her heart is suddenly racing. The planning of this mission didn't leave enough to chance for there to be a mistake. She doesn't know, but guesses, that the last time this place was checked can't have been more than 24 hours ago, because it would make sense for a last reconnaissance mission to go before the big expedition. This camp was broken fast, and everything moved far too cleanly for it to be coincidence.

The scouts said the Fallen were just throwing the food away like it was worthless to them. They'd only take it with them out of spite, or to lay a trap.

"Eyes on," she says quietly, on the off-chance anyone's close enough to hear her. Part of her anticipates a trap to snap closed at any second.

She, in her turn, hears Natasha speak, though, and nods to herself. Failure isn't an option here. "Better fang it, but we need to keep in mind how much fuel we're using. Don't want to play games any longer than we have to, or we'll be walking back to the shelters."

"Always provided there's a shelter to return to," Azwel mutters, staring down at the remains of the camp. "If they know we're coming they could have brought in any manner of reinforcements. We're well inside the trap, now, and may have been ever since we left."

There's nothing for it, now, though, and try as he might, he simply cannot think of any other option than to follow the trail, even though every tactical sense he's developed over the years tells him that's exactly where the enemy want them to go.

Had they shown their hand too soon? Do the enemy know how to fight them, now? He shivers, but it has nothing to do with the cold.

Azwel brings up an even more unsettling point. They've thrown their all into this expedition, and while there are some defenses left behind, the bulk of their strength is right here. She's been on the other end of that, charging through three War Parties to get back to a fortified city and take it before they could get there to defend it.

What will they do if they find their target and bring back food, and no one's left alive to eat it?

She feels cold inside, sinking back to sit in her seat. But there's still nothing for it. Even assuming the worst, there's no point in turning back and playing it cautious now. She looks over at Azwel, green eyes wide in the low light, calm rage behind them. "Better not speculate too much. There's a dozen different ways we could die out here, and if we die, so does everyone else. But we knew that when we set out. This changes nothing."

Blaze nods, agreeing with those behind her. She’s not privy to all the conversations going on, but it sounds like they’re of much the same mind as she is. The Guardian turns back and lifts her left palm, letting Ghost materialize above it. The little bot floats up to her shoulder, and she waves the vanguard around her closer so she can raise her voice to address them.

“You’re right. This stinks like the inside of a Cabal helmet. But we don’t have a good alternative. The Fallen never came beyond the torch line, so maybe that magic is holding them out along with the storm. We haven’t picked up any distress calls yet. Either way, we’re going to have to trust the others will hold the walls back there.” Have to. There's a deep and unfamiliar fear waiting for her, if she dwells on what might be happening beyond her watch. She gives a snort. “Trust that we’re the bigger targets, I should say. We’ve got at least one thing they want too. Let’s chase them down fast and bust open whatever they’ve got waiting for us. And spread the word down the line – everyone watch their backs. We’re getting ambushed somewhere along this trail.

To Ghost, scanning their surroundings watchfully, she adds, “Radio the scouts. Tell them to follow the trail ahead and get back to us the second they find anything. We need to know what we’re walking into.”

If only they had a Hunter here. She misses Kaolin right now. Any of her brethren. She’s gone weeks without seeing another Guardian at times, but she’s never felt truly cut off from them before. No matter how remote the wilds, no matter how hostile the planet, no matter what eldritch caverns out of time they explored, the Traveler and her kin were always somewhere there behind her. Now… she closes her fist, and the heat spills over it for a moment. A hint of solar fury just beyond her touch. A comforting reminder: the Light is with her, even here.

Still. A Hunter… if they had Kaolin, he’d already be a mile ahead, reporting their enemy’s positions. If he was here, the only thing she’d have to worry about would be him hogging all the good kills. It’s something to make her chuckle, as they resume their march.

The trail isn’t terribly hard to follow, at that (which is not reassuring to many). It leads them further up into the hills and the trees. Objectively, it probably isn’t that much farther out. But every minute brings them palpably further from safety and shelter. Eventually, the scouts will find a wide open clearing in the forest ahead. To the left, it backs onto a sheer cliffside that curves around half the open space. The only sign of their enemy are some alien crates with Fallen markings on them; a metal pole driven into the ground which bears a long vertical banner flapping in the high wind: a sigil that branches downward thin and white, like icicles, on a deep blue field. And behind it... the food is piled high, roughly sorted into different mounds: cans and jars and bags and bottles, all of it frosted with a thin layer of snow where the wind hasn’t swept it away.

Blaze starts calling out orders, though they all know their parts. Scouts to watch their perimeter, escorts to take their positions. Furiosa to move the snowmobile into position; transport crew to load it up. Ghost nudges her to stride in and summon him, so the little bot can verify there aren't any buried explosives within the stockpile.

It’s show time.

Edited 2019-03-17 01:44 (UTC)

Show time indeed.

Seeing the food all piled up is too good to be true and screams to Natalie that a trap awaits. The question is what kind? The food could have explosives nearby or the Fallen could easily be waiting until the group converges on the target for an ambush. Either way, Natalie lowers herself and Volcarona to the ground, waiting patiently for the next move. Sure she wants to set stuff on fire, but they must approach with due diligence.

"I don't doubt for a second that they're hiding close by, but we have to flush them out first. Or find a way to conceal ourselves." Her words aren't directed at anyone in particular, but whoever can come up with the best plan. She has her own ideas, but this is a team effort that requires synchronization. "I can offer up a distraction. Pretty sure the Fallen wouldn't like to be exposed to harsh rain or debilitating sleep spores." Heck, she even brought the earth down on the Fallen via rocks. Pokemon are nothing new at generating elemental calamities.

She's quiet, watching Ghost carefully, hoping for a weak-point to be revealed. No need to be afraid of any plans sounding stupid here, since anything and everything has to be considered as an option.

"A distraction ain't a bad idea. I can be very distracting. I could go with..." Harley realizes she doesn't know the young woman, so she just smiles. "The young Pokémon Trainer."

"We can be distracting on one side..."

"While an stealth retrieval team gets closer to the food. And see if there is anything that can be claimed for the greater good."

"And! If you have Poison Pokémon... you could use them around me!"

"We gotta be careful, that's the only thing. Don't want any nasty surprises. It's never this easy. Somethin' doesn't feel right." He steps back, deciding not to examine anything. "These guys are smart enough to set traps. This looks, well, like a pretty obvious trap to me."

Kinner's suspicious. The Fallen don't seem like the kind of people to have a change of heart, and he has a nasty feeling things aren't going to be that easy. He nods in response to the suggestion that it could be a trap. Possibly a mine, maybe bombs, perhaps touch-activated. Something isn't right here, and Kinner wants the food examined before he starts moving the food. He doesn't want to be blown to kingdom come, after all.

"I won't touch the food until I know it's safe," he says, pushing up his goggles. "I've got a nasty feeling that it's rigged. They wanted us to find this, and I doubt it's 'cause they're feeling nice." He reaches for his bag, brushing his own pistol, waiting for an ambush. "I'll move when I'm told to, not before. Don't want to set anything off."

Azwel stands back several paces, watching the discussion but, moreso, watching for an attack. He'd heard sounds in the distance... or was it just that dratted wind, again? They're in a wide open space and he can't help feeling exposed. The enemy could come at them from any direction, after all.

For once, he says nothing, but his posture is alert, almost paranoid.

Their tactical discussion is a sensible one. Blaze, however, hasn't caught any of it. Having called out the orders to remind everyone to move into position, the Titan's already advanced right into the clearing, assuming they'll follow. The team's voices are lost in the wind sweeping around them. She strides straight up to the food pile, rifle raised, only to lower it and summon Ghost from her palm. While the others discuss and Ghost sweeps the blue light of his sensor scan over the goods, she backs around it, rifle raised and keeping an eye on the perimeter.

"... Hey, where is everyone?"

Ghost's shell spins but he doesn't look up from the sweep he's running. "I think they're a little worried about walking right into the obvious trap."

"Huh. Not sure the choke point is safer exactly..." She shrugs. Okay, then. Safety check. She does a quick sprint around the surrounding field and back to collect Ghost. Jumps up atop the crates to look around. Stows her gun and does a short dance.

Then looks around the trees again. Well. The Fallen must be watching, but they're not going to bite. If they were right in the trees the circling scouts would have found them already. She waves to the others through the wind and snow, voice crackling over the few radios they have. "All right, no bombs in here! Come on, people, move! You want to fight in daylight or the dark?" The sun is well and truly up, obscured though it is by the clouds. It won't last forever, and Blaze knows how quickly a mission can run out of time.

Edited 2019-03-17 11:51 (UTC)

It's Ghost who will pick up Natasha's approach first. The spy hung around for a moment listening to plans and distractions but the idea of even chancing their supplies being tainted by a poison Pokemon or 'debilitating sleep spores' let along whatever else might have been discussed is no better a prospect to her than any other. They knew this was going to be a trap when they set out following the trail. However obvious the bait seems to be now won't stop them. It can't.

They need those supplies, end of story. So the spy stowed her weapons and crept forward, slinking around the edge of the clearing until there was no where left to go but out into the open. Her ears are straining for the familiar sound of her enemy's approach, or for whatever vehicle they used to transport all of this. The uniformity of the food makes her pause though.

"Blaze, do you see this?" The crates are labeled; everything that's here is all preserved or shelf stable. Dried grains and legumes. Jarred fruit and vegetable. "Where did the Fallen find this...?"

Edited 2019-03-17 15:00 (UTC)

Nothing about this looks good. Not a damn speck of it.

Joshua's stationed along the perimeter, keeping an eye out for where more or less Delia should be along the next portion of their watch. He hasn't done too much work with the rest of the others before save for Harley and Delia. Being able to keep either one of them at least kind of in sight does a lot to ease his nerves. For so long this winter getting by has meant staying out of sight and relying on being faster than anyone who could take notice of him.

Just sitting out here while the minutes tick by longer than he feels like they probably should be is eating at his nerves. They need to be on the move. Need to get out of here. Soon, soon the call will be issued. Or trouble will show up. The rifle at Josh's back is an uncomfortable reminder of where this is all probably headed. Never has the phrase 'it's all downhill from here' been less of a comfort than it is right now.

"Fuck me." Though he's filling with anxiety and fear, Joshua holds his nerve and his position.

Furiosa pays attention to the tactical discussion briefly, but her main attention is on the landscape around them. The cliff's edge is what worries her. A sudden attack from the forest could hem them in, force them to back into it, until they're between enemy fire and a sheer drop.

She's seen worse, but it's not a great prospect.

Supply runs are sometimes like this. When she was the Imperator for Joe's Citadel, the cargo was the most important thing to bring home. The vehicles, second. The people were not even in the equation. She always resented that. And she found ways around it. Cranes on the back of the Rig to let War Boys save their comrades from flaming escort cars. Extra rigorous training within the crew--if someone's going out on purpose, you let them, but if they need a hand, you give them a hand, not a Witness.

But really, in those days, the cargo they carried meant nothing more than a little extra wealth in the hands of the Triumvirate. A little more strength to lord over the rest of the people around them. And Furiosa would have traded it for the people she commanded every single time, if she could have.

Today she doesn't have that option. This is it. And once she's assured she's not about to drive into a minefield, she takes a breath, grits her teeth, and goes.

She pulls up and cuts the engine, not to waste fuel, and she's just in time to hear Natasha's question and get a look at what she's talking about.

"Mothers," she says softly, and it's both an answer and an exclamation. "That's Lady Autumn's work. Has to be. I saw some of it being done. It all of this Hers?"

When Blaze gives the command for the others to join her, Harley closes her eyes for a moment. She almost forgot that this is not a 'team'. This is a bunch of people following the command of a few select people. Their opinions and concerns... are not worth being spoken. Obviously, they are not worth being listened to either.

"Come on guys. Follow the leader..." Harley gestures to the others who had stayed behind like she had.

She heads towards the pile of food, ready to use her strength and agility to gather anything that she is told to gather.

"Lady Autumn's?" She catches Furiosa's comment. "She was working pretty hard to gather food and supplies."

"Lady Autumn? Y'mean Hazel?" Satisfied by Blaze's reassurance, Kinner moves forward to take the food. He trusts that Blaze knows what she's talking about, and they need to move fast before the Fallen show up. "If it's her...it sure is nice of her to help us out, I gotta say. I was worried the Fallen wouldn't let us have the food, but we still shouldn't let down our guard. We've still gotta make it back to base with it."

He starts to assist Harley, still ready to grab his gun and fight if the need arises. Hazel's help encourages him. At least one of the seasonal spirits (seasonal spirits mere most certainly not a thing in Kinner's homeworld, but he's learned to roll with the punches here) is on their side. Once the food is loaded, he'll stay close by, revolver trained in case the Fallen make some effort to stop them.

"I'll keep an eye on the food. We don't know if they'll come back." Kinner isn't easily spooked, but he's well aware of how dangerous the winter can be. He hasn't seen a Fallen yet, but he's sensible enough to be relieved by that rather than disappointed. "I still think walking out with this food and returning to camp won't be this easy, but but I'm paranoid."

In a rare twist of irony, the trainer of impatience is absolutely shocked at the sight before her. Everyone is willing going into an area of danger, let alone Blaze is treating this like a game. Has that one dance absolutely angered her? Maybe her mental mindset is starting to come into question as she sighs, nodding nervously to Harley, mumbling an apology. Even she has forgotten that this isn't like working with other Pokemon trainers, coming up with a team strategy. The whole group feels oddly foreign to her now...

She isn't about to risk Volcarona's safety due to overconfidence. The Pokemon is recalled into the Pokeball before Natalie begins following the group into the unknown. Here's to hoping an ambush doesn't occur, especially since retreat seems nigh impossible now.

On the other hand, Azwel snickers under his breath at Blaze's little dance. Nothing wrong with keeping one's spirits up especially now. Sure, they're expecting an ambush, certainly this is serious, but the moment you get dour is the moment the enemy can wrong-foot you or destroy your morale.

And Azwel's morale is hanging on by a thread, anyway.

To distract himself, he begins loading the food onto the snowmobile's trailer. "Trap or not, there's a chance we can get it back to camp if we take it. If we don't take it, there's no chance at all."

However, once that's done, he finds himself on edge again. He makes his way toward the perimeter, as though just looking for something to fight. He's jumpy--this has gone far too quietly.

Harley shakes her head slightly at Kinner's obvservation. "But she didn't tell anyone about it. She worked so hard to collect it."

It doesn't sit well with her that they are just going to take the food, without taking a moment to respect the Autumn Spirit who did all the work. Harley remembers how Hazel cursed Thor during Autumn time. How he couldn't touch anything without it rotting. How he could only eat food that wouldn't rot... like candy worms.

And if that curse is still active.... Harley frowns. Any one of them could unintentionally rot this food before it is any good to anybody.

It is true that this food would save a lot of lives back at camp. But obviously by the situation they are in now, and the wrath of the Winter Spirits... these seasonal spirits have good memories. Harley would hate for any of the starving people to suffer just because they didn't mind their Ps and Qs.

So she takes a moment to undo her ponytails and remove the two colorful extensions in her hair. Harley makes a small red-and-blue wreath out of the two strands, and places it down by the pile of food. "A sacrifice of mine... before I take what is yours..."

With her respect given,Harley places her stark white hair back into ponytails. And gets to work to get food loaded onto one of their transport vehicles.

Natasha doesn't quite pause listening to the talk about Hazel. The spy does as much as she can to steer clear of all seasonal spirits and their ilk. The stories people tell about them sound downright unsettling more often than not. Stories of curses and blessings that come at a cost...while Natasha isn't the pious type, not by a long shot, she catches herself shutting her eyes and tipping her head forward as if following along with a prayer being lead by someone else when Harley offers her sacrifice.

If there's even a chance it will help their cause...More importantly, if there's a chance it will hurt their cause if Natasha doesn't, a couple of seconds of respect are worth slowing down for.

"Smart." Natasha wouldn't have thought of it. No noise at the edge of the clearing to indicate whether or not Daredevil or the others have found any trouble. Good, that's good. Just a little longer.

Blaze is staring up at the blue banner mounted before the great pile. Natasha's question and the discussion that follows makes her glance over.

"You mean it's Hazel's work? Hmm. The Fallen have had free run of the Nexus since the storm began. I've found a couple of our scouts dead next to empty caches lately. Guess now we know what was missing." She looks up at the banner again, gestures to it and gives a soft snort. "The House of Winter. Isn't that just damned perfect?"

It's a bit of work, but she takes a few seconds to unhook the banner from its pole, rolling up the heavy cloth and placing it in the snowmobile's cab. It means she misses the respectful moment the others are taking, so when she steps away she finds herself standing a little awkwardly watching them. She glances at Ghost, but follows his lead and keeps quiet. This business of spirits and nature - this isn't something she understands. Her conversation with Furiosa a few days past reminds her of that. She has plenty against Reynard personally, but she won't begrudge this other spirit her due.

No. Winter and Autumn she doesn't understand. What she knows is Light and Dark, and what's waiting to attack is very much of the Dark. The others have the loading well in hand, so she turns her armored bulk back to watching the perimeter. Escort missions may be a lesser nightmare to her, but there is something reassuring about seeing Azwel, Josh and the other warriors watching their backs.

"There's a saying back home, Kinner," she says over her shoulder. "'You're not paranoid if there really is a monolithic embodiment of pure evil out to get you.' We'll have company soon enough. Just keep your head down and whatever happens, get this payload home."

"She must have known this was going to be a harsh winter," Furiosa says. "She was asking people what would be important to them, to survive. A hint, maybe."

One Furiosa, herself, didn't pick up on. But then she has a better excuse than some. She immediately applied the question to her experiences back home, in the desert. And she certainly never expected to get stuck in the Nexus.

Well, anyone who survives will get the opportunity to apply the lessons in the coming year.

She looks over at Harley as she makes her tribute, and finds herself touched. Whether Hazel will be aware or not, it's a respectful thought. And Furiosa herself has nothing to give (she's pretty sure ammo casings are of no interest to Autumn), but she does a Vuvalini salute, clasping her hand to her chest and closing her eyes for a moment. A brief moment, because as much as it's important to respect Spirits, she doesn't want to be so respectful their enemies sneak up on them.

She hops out of the cab of the transport to help with loading, but she's careful not to stray more than a running step and a quick hop from the driver's seat. She'll help, to make it all as fast as possible, but she's not willing to risk losing the transport, or getting caught out too far away from it to start it running and go.

"Kinner. If you want to take shotgun on the way back, I won't complain," she says quietly in passing. "Tricky to drive and shoot at the same time."

A Goddess of Autumn? That's the new bit of information for Natalie to digest, but she doesn't know the first thing about pleasing human deities. Maybe she can ask about a proper offering later, when lives aren't at stake. Although she can't help but wonder why this Hazel didn't make things easier, let alone allowed alien creatures to kill without question. Unlike her companions, anger is clouding her judgment, as Incineroar and Emboar are called out to help load up the trailer.

"I'm not praising any spirit who thinks this is humane. Humans aren't made to fight against otherworldly creatures, unless they want to..." The cat Pokemon grumbles in disdain at his trainer's negative energy, which causes Natalie to sigh and retract her words. "Come on, you two. Let's get this food loaded up." She's more than eager to step away from the group and focus on collecting the supplies with her Pokemon in tow. Thankfully, they seem strong enough to lift any of the heavier containers without difficulty.

Kinner nods, taking what he's gathered and losding it. He'll take on the role of guarding the food - it limes up with his skillset and it's what he's been trained to do. He sprints over to Furiosa's car and gets into position, ready to shoot if he needs to shoot. And, he notes grimly, he probably will. The Fallen aren't about to just let them leave. They're being watched.

He doesn't talk, instead focusing on the escape. Finding the food is one job, but safely returning to the shelter with it is another. They have to get back to the torches. Kinner draws his revolver, hunched, waiting for his enemies among the Fallen to strike. They're out there. He knows it, and he's got to be careful. The Fallen, if nothing else, have shown themselves to be good at ambushes.

He flashes a thumbs-up as a signal to Furiosa. He's ready to go.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject