Realistic or Modern T-Minus Never

Viper Actual said:

"You should be glad that only person had to pay the price for the lack of training that cost you this in the first place."

Click to expand...

Charlie had no response that could adequately portray his disdain for this man. His comment, followed by the blatant disrespect towards Sybille, flushed almost any chance of further cooperation down the drain, unless it would be for the direct benefit of the fellow Mall dwellers. He only hoisted his bag once again onto his shoulder, and stepped back into the group while the Lieutenant bagged Kat.

queendilettante said:

"Lack of training!?" She took a step forward to the soldier. "I'm sorry, as I recall, you didn't even manage to fire off a single round just now. The DHQS sends only three people to rendezvous with the Mall and the soldier type among you can't even aim his fucking gun in time?" She stopped herself, embarrassed, and stepped back away from the man. "Uh... listen, I-..."

Click to expand...

He put his hand on Sybille's shoulder, honored that she'd stick up for him and the rest of the group, but reminding her it was futile.

"Time and a place," he patted her with a dull expression that portrayed a clear message: these people are not here for us, do not rely on them. They'd learned that the hard way, and he hoped the rest of the crew got the memo.


Charlie rubbed his hand against his heart as Teddy read a prayer. He was never particularly religious, but once again he appreciated the formalities Ted practiced towards the deceased. Perhaps he wasn't as erratic as he appeared.

There was still a lot for Charlie to process, but over the years, even before the Crash, he'd learned to stow away thoughts to be explored at a later date, a talent he'd been practicing very well recently. Ash and Jordan, however, appeared much more distraught in the moment. He decided against attempting to console them for the moment, they probably wouldn't want to hear what he had to say right now. He didn't even know what he'd say.

Ryan watches the group devolve into bickering and wants to step in, but protocol has to be followed. Direct contact with the Blight means you take your helmet off, put your hands up, and let a designated medic look you over for signs of contamination. Taking the helmet off is so if you go Vector you're easier to brain, and its one of the first things they drill into you.

When Fred gives him the okay, he lets out a grateful sigh and turns to watch the rest of the group continue bickering until he finally reaches for his hip, draws his pistol, and fires a single round up into the air at a westward tilt, intending for the bang to shut everyone up.

"Next person to say something stupid gets two in the knees and left behind. Are there any volunteers?" He glowers, shoving the gun back into its holster. "If I'm not mistaken, and I rarely god damn am, we just made an awful lot of noise. I don't know if eight years isn't long enough for you all to have gotten the message, but in case you've all forgotten, rule number one is still don't stop moving if you're not inside a fence, and rule number two--" He stops, jabbing a finger at Charlie and Sybille. "Is keep your head on straight when you're in enemy territory. Now, I don't see a sea of green uniforms, and I don't hear anything clearing the road of vehicles, and I definitely don't see a clean-up crew trying to spruce the place up, so it seems to me an awful lot like we should be on the move."

When he finishes, he lets out a tired sigh and gestures at Sybille again. "Now, I understand we haven't gotten off to the best of starts, but we can all settle up at the Mall, and its still your job to get me there. If you'd be so kind, I'd rather be there before every Casualty in a mile radius gets here."

"Amen," said Fredrik as the militant near him finished his prayer. Silently he zipped up the bodybag and propped it up on his knee. Looking to no one in particular, Fred was about to ask for help with carrying the bagged VIP when Ryan fired his gun into the air and made his little speech.
While he would most likely the last one to air his opinion, Fred did think that the whole thing was a bit over the top.

He shrugged slightly. Then again, I'm not in charge.

Looking at Teddy, Fredrik made a slight nod. "Mind helping me with the body? Just need to strap it down on the drone."

"Amen," Teddy added after the Lieutenant, quickly tracing the sign of the cross along his chest. Going to lean next to the robotic dog the agents brought along, Teddy didn't even flinch as the headman popped off a shot. Listening to the man's rant, Teddy resisted the urge to be a needless smartass. Next person to say something stupid gets shot in the knee? He almost let the first dumb, needless wisecrack he thought of slip out before stopping himself. There was a time and a place Teddy, a time and a place.

Nodding towards the Lieutenant, Teddy grasped one end of the bag and lifted. He wasn't really sure which end of the body he'd gotten and he wasn't going to zip open the bag to check, so he got to work. As the two moved the body towards the drone, Teddy felt an unusual amount of strain in his biceps. Usually, he didn't want to speak ill of the dead, but why the hell was she so damn heavy?

Setting the body on the back of the Dronkey, Teddy helped secure the bag before giving a glance back to the others.

"Big man's right," Teddy said, looking towards Ryan, "Did any of you guys ever see a military bombing run back in the early days? There'd be hordes, EVERYWHERE. We gotta double-time it".

Sybille bit harder on her lip and glared at the ground with the lecture from Ryan. It was all she could do not to tell his underling to kick rocks and leave them stranded in the open, but she knew better than that. If she came back with a deceased Kat and no DHQS, she'd never leave the Mall alive again.

"Now, I understand we haven't gotten off to the best of starts, but we can all settle up at the Mall, and its still your job to get me there. If you'd be so kind, I'd rather be there before every Casualty in a mile radius gets here."

Click to expand...

"Agreed," she shot back, "and let's hope we all have a bit more tact at that time." She raised her rifle, looked at Kat's body being loaded on the dronkey, and took a deep breath. Really, she hated Kat. If she were to have gotten herself killed on someone else's watch, Sybille wouldn't have lost any sleep over it. Watching the panic overtake the woman as she realized she was about to be put down like a rabid animal, though; nothing could prepare someone to stomach that.

Sybille took a step ahead and turned back to the group. "Alright, crew, let's keep moving. Charlie and Jordan, you two guard the rear." I hope that anymore infected we could encounter come at us from the front. "Lars, take point up front with me. Ash and Teddy, please guard our friend Ryan; last thing we need is him getting tackled again." She couldn't help herself but shoot a dig at the cocky soldier trying to issue her orders. She smiled at him unassumingly, regardless.

------

The crew set off back to the Mall. From the scene of the Vector attack, they were still a couple of hours out, but everything went uncharacteristically well considering the group's luck so far. There were some Casualties seen in the distance, but everyone agreed that it would be best not to engage and make more noise unless absolutely necessary. By the time they got to the edge of the outer walls on the way to the first gate, they hadn't had to engage with any more infected.

As the guards became visible behind the gate, the dread that had been building since Kat's death began to overtake Sybille. Obviously, accidents have occurred in the field, but the death of a Founder was incredibly rare, especially recently. The couple dozen people that Founded the Mall still numbered into the double digits, despite the settlement's shaky beginnings. Aside from the electrician that randomly fell off the roof in autumn of last year, Sybille didn't remember the death of a Founder ever happening in her time with them. Especially not the death of a Founder under my fucking supervision.

The group was stopped by one of the guards. "Nine and a dog?" the older guard, a balding middle aged man named Todd that frequented Sybille's shop began. "Did the NUSA only send two people?" Before Sybille could respond, realization set in on his face as he scanned the group. "Sybille, where's Ms. Roberts?" Looking up from the ground, Sybille saw him gazing past her in the direction of the dronkey. She bit her lip for what felt like the 90th time that day and nodded her head. They were ushered inside, Kat's body was removed, and before anyone could protest, their weapons were confiscated, Santa's leash was taken, and they were escorted through all of the gates and directly into the Mall.

Sybille didn't like spending time inside the Mall proper if she could help it; the merchants were insufferable and the people lucky enough to have large rooms to themselves made sure to let everyone else know that fact. She could feel all of their judgmental stares as her crew and the DHQS were escorted into an old GameStop that had been revamped into a large holding cell for citizens about to hold trial; normally, the jails would suffice, but the frequency with which people offend the Founders kept the jail full of 3-Weekers, the minimum sentence for a "Founder Offense." The old GameStop served as the cell used when people were about to be interrogated or sent to trial for something actually worth anyone's time. And now Sybille's entire group was being held there. Fuck.

Todd stood in front of the barricaded glass doors before letting the group in. "Let's hope this was a misunderstanding, you all will get your surrendered weapons back and we have a drink together. Get inside." Sybille obliged first in a last ditch effort to convince her crew to agree without issue. As she walked inside, she propped herself against one of the side walls and slid down. Off to a great fucking start, Sybille.

Vudukudu Viper Actual Nic the Merc Aeris Solar Daddy Togy Hard Boiled idiot

Charlie looked in slight disbelief as Ryan fired his sidearm into the air. Really? He thought. You’re going to warn us about making too much noise by firing a gun into the air? Regardless, he followed his own advice and did as instructed, staying in the back of the file as they returned home.


In the silence on the way back to the Mall, Charlie found himself a moment to think about what he’d done, and what might follow.

Did he feel remorse? A little.
He understood that Kat was likely not the same person before the Crash, and that she was still of course a human being, but there was only two ways out of her situation. He'd have a stern talking-to with whoever moved his vaccines, whenever he found out who it was.

It wasn't the image, but her voice that he couldn't get out of his head. He'd heard a million tones of agony in his life, but this was directed at him, his doing. It made him sick to his stomach.
Would he have done it again? Every single time.

As for the future, his life at the hospital was already unideal for the past few years, he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would get when it was reported to the rest of the founders that he’d killed Kat. He didn’t expect them to see any sort of reason regarding the fact that she’d been bitten, and would’ve endangered the rest of the group. They’d probably do their usual “keep everyone alive, but don’t bother us about it or ask for any help, but if you’re unsuccessful you’ll be chastised for it.” Ironically, not too different from pre-apocalyptic emergency medicine. He wondered how much longer they could skirt the line of keeping the hospital functional, yet avoiding putting too many resources into it.

Of course, this was all assuming the group wouldn't be lined up against a wall as soon as they returned.

Luckily for them, or unluckily, depending how you lick it, they were brought into the dreaded GameStop to await trial. This store had died long before the Crash, it gave him the chills even before their little adventure.

His bag had been confiscated upon entry, he stood leaning against the wall by Sybille. He wondered if, as the leader of the expedition, she'd be blamed for Kat's death instead. It was a possibility he tried not to linger on. Instead, he thought about what else might happen at their trial. Perhaps one of the founders would try to twist the events to make it look as though Charlie shot Kat over a personal vendetta for not indulging his requests, that seemed like something they would do. All he could do for now was grit his teeth and wait to find out.

Once the deceased VIP was properly secured on the dronkey and the order came to move Fredrik remained close to the machine though unlike before he wouldn't spend any time answering questions but rather remain silent and on alert. Despite this the final trek to the Mall went by without a hitch up until the moment the guards at the gate figured out who the unlucky person in the bodybag was.

As the group was brought in to be stripped of their weapons and gear, Fred frowned, openly showing his displeasure. A young man with the Mall militia approached him to relieve him of his rifle, sidearm and the Finnish bush-machete strapped to his thigh. Looking like he just turned eighteen, the guard reluctantly gestured towards Fredrik's rifle and stammered out a "Please disarm yourself, sir" while his eyes dodged back and forth.
Grunting, Fredrik took two steps forward and effectively eliminated any distance between him and the guard. He eyed the boy- who was now silent and wide-eyed- with an increasingly larger frown until a more senior guard standing nearby racked his shotgun while staring at Fred.

Silently and without breaking eye contact from the guard in front of him Fredrik clicked open his rifle sling and surrendered his AK5C followed by his pistol and machete before stepping away from the guard. Once the group were herded to a run-down GameStop locale Fredrik positioned himself near Ryan and crossed his arms.

"This entire situation stinks, sir." Fredrik paused. "I don't trust them to fear the eye in the sky enough to not use us as scapegoats for the death of the VIP."

Lars was happy to hear the gunshot. The more people enveloped in heated conversation, the less people were watching out. Lars was pretty sure at one point he was the only one not paying much attention to it. Then again, he couldn't know; he was looking in the direction the infected came from. When the order was finally given for everyone to kiss and make up, Lars stood once more and took position at the front of the group, at Sybille's orders. The trek back wasn't very eventful, but Lars' guard was as high as it could be. He checked corners with his rifle and prepared to put down anything that charged them. Before passing any vehicles Lars would peek under the chassis and inside as well to ensure no one could get grabbed by a hidden infected.

Once at the gates of the Mall, Lars couldn't help but roll his eyes at the idea of being brought into a cell. He was about as innocent as he could be - he gave Kat's defense everything he could, like most of the others. He was sure he wouldn't be blamed for anything, unless he was the designated scapegoat for the crew. There was nothing he could do if they all just agreed to make Lars the bad guy in this situation, so he was able to calm his mind from thinking too much on it. He was either already dead or he wasn't.

Lars was forced to give up his weaponry and items, which was understandable. He'd gone through similar procedures at various outposts including the Mall when he first arrived. Nothing wrong with holding prisoners after they just arrived from outside the walls, doing God knows what - especially since they came back with a dead Founder. However, he wasn't happy about his gas mask getting taken away. He didn't like having his face shown when he was compromised. He'd opt to bring up his poncho a bit higher to try and conceal his strange expressions. Once inside the GameStop, Lars took note of windows and loose objects he could potentially use to escape. Not much to work with. He doubted the benches were screwed in tight, and once given the slightest bit of lenience, Lars started pulling on various benches to see if they were secured discreetly. He didn't give any mind to Jordan who was already sitting on one of the benches besides a barely audible "Excuse me." their survival was more important than drawing or writing. Disturbing her was an acceptable nuisance.

He managed to find one of the seating platforms to be wobbly - something he'd have to assume he could pry off the wall if need be. He now had a weapon he could use to at least blunt-force attackers, which made him a bit more at ease. Hell, maybe he could break down some of the reinforced windows with it. Time would tell if he'd need to use it.

Ryan follows up behind Fredrik and turns over his rifle, but makes no effort to remove the pistol from his holster. When the guard gestures at it, he arches his brow, though his shades obscure most of the expression. "Not a Vector but I do still bite, kid. I'll be keeping that." He says coolly, reaching one gloved hand up to give the boy's cheek a pat. The guard flinches as Ryan tries to brush by him, and does manage to stop him from moving forward.

"Sir, its just a matter of p-policy." He stammers. "I'm going to need to take that."

Ryan's flat lips turn to a scowl. "Florida, if he touches me again, get real nasty." He hisses. The guard blanches and turns his head to look at Eden as Ryan takes an exaggerated sidestep past him, then forward. Depositing his own weapons on the table, he summons the dronkey to come stand by his side and spends a minute poking at its various pouches with one hand carefully placed under the chassis. All the while, he whistles a meandering little tune, but anyone listening very carefully might hear the faint peeling of duct tape before the whistling stops. He rises slowly with a cracked smile as his knees pop. "Just powering her down. Y'all take good care of her until I'm back." He says, surprisingly cheerily given his earlier visceral reaction to being disarmed. When none of the guards insist on doing a second pat down, he goes along willingly to the Gamestop with the rest of the group.

Standing near the gated door, arms folded across his chest while he taps his foot impatiently, just loudly enough to be a constant nuisance to the two guards on the other side, he stops when Fredrik comes to stand beside him. Turning around, he leads him a few steps away out of earshot, and to turn their bodies away from the door. "They've got everything to lose. DHQS backing means priority for zone clearing, supply drops, a place in the future. They kill us and all they get is a missile when I don't call in tonight." He says. Reaching his right hand into his jacket, he quickly tucks a Sig Sauer P238 into Fredrik's hands, out of sight of anyone not watching them very closely. It was his insurance policy - taped to the bottom of the dronkey, in case he ever found himself in need of a weapon.

"But I like to have insurance. Keep it hidden, and if things look like they're about to go bad, do what you can to get you and Florida out of here and contact command. Now I'm going to do something to earn us a little good will among the locals." He says, giving Fred an optimistic clap on the shoulder before turning away. "Charlie, Sybille, I think we need to have a little chat about hospitality around here." He says a bit more loudly as he heads over to the old abandoned cashier counter and sits himself up on it.

queendilettante Hard Boiled

The walk was more awkward than the time Florida accidentally came out to the extended family at her grandfather’s funeral. Things being as tense as they were, all she could do was to act the part of intimidating DHQS guard dog. She remained alert, eyes scoping the group and the horizon marching on until orders changed.

—

Upon arriving at the mall, no one’s demeanor changed. If it was possible, everyone grew more dour. Lining up to enter the repurposed Game Stop clarified that they absolutely should NOT have been bringing that Kat woman back in a body bag. It seemed odd to Florida that in a zombie apocalypse these people had time to bicker about what should or should not have happened to a bitten ally out in the open wasteland. It was a vector bite; it was over for her as soon as the former latent’s teeth punctured her soft, vulnerable flesh.

It truly could have been any of them in that bag. What was so significant about this woman that it could threaten the lives of living survivors? For Christ’s sake, it wasn’t even DHQS that made the choice to put her down. One of their own had been quick to handle the situation. To be honest, the deceased in question had not seemed overly comfortable out and about as she had been. Such a large security detail with her as well. They knew the risks every time they let someone step outside that Mall.

Vudukudu said:

Ryan follows up behind Fredrik and turns over his rifle, but makes no effort to remove the pistol from his holster. When the guard gestures at it, he arches his brow, though his shades obscure most of the expression. "Not a Vector but I do still bite, kid. I'll be keeping that." He says coolly, reaching one gloved hand up to give the boy's cheek a pat. The guard flinches as Ryan tries to brush by him, and does manage to stop him from moving forward.

"Sir, its just a matter of p-policy." He stammers. "I'm going to need to take that."

Ryan's flat lips turn to a scowl. "Florida, if he touches me again, get real nasty." He hisses. The guard blanches and turns his head to look at Eden as Ryan takes an exaggerated sidestep past him, then forward.

Click to expand...

It took all of Florida’s self-control not to snort as she watched the young guard stop Ryan. Poor thing did not know what he was doing and there was just no winning for him in this situation with the DHQS official. As he moved past the guard, she moved forward, a cocky half grin on her face as she stared meaningfully at the young guy. She shoved the weapons towards him before speaking up.

“Honestly, kid? His bark is worse than his bite.” She grinned wide as he stared blankly back at her. Florida pulled her hammer off her back, a little flourish to her movement, before dropping the heavy tool in the guard’s hands, the weight catching him by surprise. Then, leaning in just as quickly as she was about to pull away, she whispered low just so he could hear.

“But truth be told, that’s why I’m here.” She chose that moment to move forward into the waiting cell, but not before ‘accidentally’ clipping the guard with her shoulder, knocking him back into the glass. She just needed him to understand Ryan’s threat was not an idle one and with everything so tense, she didn’t need her commanding officer questioning her ability to do her job.

Once everyone was inside, Florida shed a couple layers of clothing. Her headgear replaced with a bandana, coat off, and a stained tank top showed off the gator tattoo across the top of her back. She pulled out a flask and took a quick swig of her homemade moonshine inside before offering it to the person nearest her in the room, shaking it politely, the liquid sloshing around inside.

“Well, not quite the first impression I was hoping to give off, but still…I’ve experienced worse. Any of you natives wanna share with the new kids on the block what’s happening and what we can expect next?” As she spoke, she stretched her aching body, her muscles contoured by the dirt of the apocalypse outside. At least now they had some time to relax and get to know each other. Just... not in the setting Eden had hoped.

Unchanged Color: Sybille
Orange: Charlie
Purple: Ryan

As Charlie approached, Sybille shot him a meager smile and weakly nodded in his direction. The unseasonal heat that the group faced on their only partially successful trek to the gas station had left sweat caked onto her forehead; the slight nod shifted some and her eyes started to sting, though she tried not to let onto that in front of Charlie.

Nonchalantly pulling her bandana down and wiping her eye in the process, she cleared her throat and looked at the doctor who had become one of the only people she liked to talk to at the Mall. “Don’t worry,” she started, losing her nerve to face him and looking down at the ground, “I won’t let them pin it on you.” She reached up to anxiously tug on her left earlobe, lightly scratching her elbow on the chipped wall on the way.

Charlie was one of the few people at the Mall that didn’t view the apocalypse as permission to fuck over everyone he came in contact with. His devotion to helping people in spite of the world and the Founders’ animosity toward his practice was something Sybille greatly respected. “If it wasn’t you,” she started, “it would have been another one of us that put a bullet between her eyes.” She cleared her throat again and kicked a pre-Crash plastic Coca-Cola bottle that seemed like a taunting reminder of the world they lost. “Besides, I was in charge of the mission.” She looked up and smiled at the doctor, knowing full well she didn’t need to elaborate on what that meant.

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Charlie agreed that if it wasn't him, it would've likely been an agent, which would've been even worse for Kat. Better it be someone she was at least acquainted with than a stranger.

"But, uh... Thanks." He returned a forced smile, which straightened out again after a split second. Being social wasn't a strong suit of his pre-Crash, much less post. If it weren't for Sybille, he'd have fallen into a pit of cynical hermitry years ago. Medical supplies and food were rare, but even rarer were true friends who wouldn't stab your back the second you turned it. She reminded him that he's not just saving people so they can go pillage and kill, as it seemed so many people itched to do, including the majority of their group, instead that there was a chance for personal humanity to regrow and prosper.

While he appreciated the sentiment, he never thought to question his decision. In the moment, and in his heart, he knew he'd done the right thing, for Kat and for everyone else. Though, looking back, he couldn't help but wonder if his particular haste to shoot her was solely due to the bite, or if their bad blood had made him eager to spill hers. Surely it was the bite, he told himself, there was limited time before she turned, and the "sixty second rule" isn't exact. Still, there was the knowledge that, if given the opportunity, ninety percent of Mall dwellers would pay to watch a founder die. He didn't want to lump himself in with that group, even if he saw their point.

"You're bleeding," he gestured to her elbow with an upwards nod. With his supplies confiscated, he frisked himself in search of a spare bandage.
"Here." With two fingers, he retrieved a two-by-two inch piece of plaid bandanna from his back pocket, offering it to her. "Just hold it there, it'll stick."

“Thanks,” Sybille said quietly. She gently pressed the bandana onto her small cut and smiled at Charlie. She looked out toward the group and rolled her eyes as she saw the DHQS officer, Ryan, looking in their direction.

"Charlie, Sybille, I think we need to have a little chat about hospitality around here." He says a bit more loudly as he heads over to the old abandoned cashier counter and sits himself up on it.”

Click to expand...

Charlie had a number of thoughts go through his head as they approached Ryan, most of them boiled down to "this guy again..." He undid his ponytail and glanced at Sybille in preparation for whatever nonsense they were about to be told.

“Hospitality?” Sybille scoffed at the man, not that it would amount to much. “I just hope for your sake that the other Founders were as keen on meeting with the Americans as Kat was.” She winked at the man, though through the dust and the dim lighting, she couldn’t read his reaction.

Once Sybille and Charlie have convened in front of him, Ryan sets his hands palms down on his thighs and kicks his legs idly back and forth. "So I think we can all agree this isn't ideal." He says, giving a glance at each of them. His sunglasses are tucked into the collar of his shirt, and he gives them each a pointed glance. "If they're not idiots, and they seem to be in charge so they can't be that dumb, they're gonna stay real eager to stay on my good side." He replies, then clears his throat.

"Me having to shoot Kat was an unfortunate mishap." He opens, giving them both a pointed look as he talks just a little loudly. "But we all saw what happened. Sixty seconds, signs of infection, a bite means a bullet. I did what anyone should have. You would have done it." He says, turning his head towards Charlie. "And you woulda done it." He adds, looking at Sybille.

"I'm not gonna apologize for what I did. One bullet or all our lives, I did the math, and I pulled the trigger."

What’s his game? Sybille couldn’t stand the way Ryan carried himself; his aura of self-assessed superiority got under her skin very shortly after their first meeting. Even so, she wasn’t going to spit on a hand that was reaching out to potentially keep her and Charlie alive. “I can’t fault you, ya know, it’s just a shame how you had to be the one to do it; especially after you two hit it off so well.” She smiled.

Charlie looked on dully with crossed arms as Ryan made his proposition, coming to a similar conclusion as Sybille. This guy wants something from them, there’s no other reason he’d make such an offer. Still, if he wanted to possibly get himself hanged instead of Charlie, he wasn’t going to object.

“If you say so,” he half-shrugged. “How very kind of you.”

"But I like to have insurance. Keep it hidden, and if things look like they're about to go bad, do what you can to get you and Florida out of here and contact command."

Click to expand...

Without glancing down at the handgun pressed into his hands Fredrik quickly but silently chambered it, engaged the safety and tucked it in underneath his uniform jacket and utility belt. "Will do sir. Good luck," he replied, nodding as Ryan went to chat with the locals.
Crossing his arms, Fred made sure to keep track of the people next to Ryan and while she was currently busy with drinking the locals under the table he trusted that Florida was focused-enough to keep her eyes on the other half of the group regardless whether she showed it or not.

Even though the room wasn't particularly large Fredrik had difficulty picking up anything more but bits and pieces from the conversation between Ryan and the two Mall-militants next to him. Though based on the little he did hear it sounded like Ryan was going to use his DHQS status to blame himself for the death of the VIP. Tilting his head slightly Fredrik narrowed his eyes.

It was a risky move. Very risky. If the other founders decided to execute Ryan, Fredrik and Eden then they would know nothing but airborne terror in the shape of missile strikes. Sure, they needed the support from NUSA to continue surviving into the next decade but then again technically only Ryan was actually needed to report in. Fred wouldn't be the least surprised if the Founders decided to shoot him, Eden or both of them just to send a message.

Sighing, he shook his head slightly. Let's see if McCarthy's risk pays off.

Lars found himself propped against the wall beside his ace in the hole; a wobbly bench that would hopefully prove to be his key to victory. Of course, he wouldn't vocalize his find. If for whatever reason this turned into a brawl, he wanted the surprise of the attack to be for everyone, not just his attackers. Plus, he was sure mentioning anything out loud would gain unwanted listeners. Not to mention he wasn't exactly trusting of those around him. DHQS and Mall alike, they all had personal motives that Lars was sure didn't include his well being. So instead, he listened in to the conversations happening and enjoying the things he picked up on here or there - all while performing his secret magic trick of just being another face in the crowd and drawing as little attention as possible to himself. Florida was offering drinks; Fred and Ryan seemed to be discussing something between themselves before the latter joined a conversation with Sybille and Charlie. That's when Lars' ears really perked up; Ryan giving off a falsified version of the truth, out loud, for others to hear.

His curiosity got to the better of him, and soon Lars was wondering about all the different motives the DHQS soldier could have to lie about such a thing. Especially to put the blame on himself; something seemed off, but strange circumstances were where Lars felt right at home. He had no clue what was going to happen, but he was eager to see the what the future held. After this point, Lars stopped listening in so intently. He had learned enough new information to keep him pondering for a while. Anything to keep himself occupied during down times such as this.

To his right, just off to the corner of the Game Stop, Lars noticed the girl clutching her necklace - Ashlynn. She seemed nervous, or distraught, or maybe just exhausted. He could understand, the past few hours were... unexpectedly eventful. Lars himself felt his eyelids weigh especially heavy. He couldn't tell if she was upset or just bored. He opted to find out. "Don't worry. We'll maybe get a slap on the wrist and be back in our residences before dawn. Since Ryan's being especially generous, we may even be trusted eye witness accounts." He made sure not to let out Ryan's ploy, but also wasn't exactly worried about him getting any heat for it. Lars was talking quietly enough for most not to hear him anyway. "Maybe get a sip of whatever the DHQS chick is offering to calm your nerves."

The founders didn't strike Teddy as the forgiving type. Given, he'd only met one of them briefly before their untimely death, but he couldn't picture Kat giving someone a slap on the wrist or saying 'No harm no foul'. So, he was obviously wary about returning to the mall. He's made worse mistakes and had to report them to people much more dangerous than the founders before, but he didn't really make a habit of it, did he? No one else was breaking off from the group to rough it out on their own, so he decided to stay. He'd be kept wondering what happened to everyone else should he leave now.

And besides, the DHQS was all the insurance they needed. Teddy felt only a little guilty thinking this, but he wouldn't hesitate to throw them under the bus should he have to. They'd be fine, all things considered. The mall needed them, not to mention the threat of an airstrike should they bite the hand that feeds them. It was just the easiest solution to making sure everyone came out alright, was all.

The expected greeting at the gate followed. They took none too kindly to the fact that Kat was no longer with them, which was hardly a surprise. At once, the group was disarmed. Laying down his rifle, his Glock, his VP40, his machete, and his hunting knife, Teddy curiously looked around towards the other members laying down a measly possession of weaponry. From the look the young guard taking his weapons gave him, they looked more than a little intimidated. For what had to be the first time in his life, Teddy felt as if he was just a bit over-armed.

As the young guard set to frisking him, Teddy hadn't even noticed Ashlynn turning her attention to him.

"Are we going to be okay?" She turned to Teddy.

Click to expand...

Turning in surprise, Teddy nearly elbowed the young man in the face. "Wh-oh, yes. We're all gonna get through this A-okay, don't worry aboot it. I've done this before, usually just a drawn-out misunderstanding" Teddy said, flashing Ash a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the guards.

With that, the lot was thrown into the cell. Figures a GameStop was the one place no one wanted to be.

The DHQS leader-he'd taken to calling him big man-had set to work with the others. It was hard not to overhear their conversations, GameStops weren't very big, but they still talked quietly enough to make it difficult to eavesdrop. The DHQS would take the fall? Well, that made that easier.

With nothing else to do, Teddy stretched himself out on the floor and closed his eyes. No good in exhausting himself in the cell, he'd need his energy for later. Either the group got a slap on the wrist or they were lined up against a wall and read their final rites.

Either way, it wouldn't be their problem for much longer.

Florida heard Lars mention her and immediately locked on. Things were so tense in this room and if their Mall escorts only said bad things about DHQS… it would be bad for everyone. This assimilation needed to go seamlessly

“If booze ain’t your thing, I have tobacco and a few hits left of a little Mary Jane.” She smiled, offering Ashlynn each substance like a nurse, explaining what all your new meds do. She wasn’t being pushy, just trying to be friendly. Florida’s voice took on an empathetic, caring tone.

“There shouldn’t be anything to worry about. DHQS agents have strict protocols to follow. When Ryan made a choice in the field about that vector bite, he was keeping you safe in accordance with NUSA’s orders.” Florida’s face was stern, but kind. The tight rope between empathetic fellow survivor and government enforcer was thin here; thank God she had such outstanding balance. She took a swig of the flask.

“We want nothing more than to keep everyone as safe as possible. We’re all in this together, right?” Florida grinned wide, patting Lars on the shoulder and winking at Teddy. “Thanks for the escort, by the way. Ya’ll are an alert bunch!”

The chatter gets broken up when the metal sheet door securing the entryway is raised and a half-dozen Mall security staff toting a variety of shotguns stroll in. None of them happen to outrank Sybille, and one does, in fact, throw a lazy salute at her before his nearest comrade gives him a stiff elbow nudge. "The Founders are ready to see you." One of them says, not sounding particularly enthused about this whole thing. Kat's death has thrown some things into chaos, and no doubt the Founders are already bickering over claiming her patronage network and influence. Some of her underlings will find happy new roles beneath some other Founder - others are going to get left out in the rain, and nobody's sure how that's going to pan out just yet.

Ryan is quick to slide off the countertop and hook his thumbs under the loose shoulder straps of his vest. "About time. They get stuck in traffic or something?" He jokes, cracking a toothy smile that hopefully serves to hide the tension knotting up in his stomach. His inside man in the Mall had told him about the "trials" here, mostly trumped up farces with a clear authoritarian tilt. They'd probably have a hand-picked jury to make it look fair, ask them some questions, and dole out an overly harsh sentence. The one thing they were missing is jurisdiction.

This is NUSA turf now.
---------------------------------------
The guards hustle everyone out about as lazily as one might expect - they're not eager to go clubbing the people they live with, and Ryan makes sure to walk with Fredrik and Florida flanking him. For good measure, he exaggerates his steps to make his boots click sharply on the linoleum floors with each step, both to channel his nervousness out a bit and give off a little more of a commanding air. The courtroom, if one could call it that, is set up in the old food court, one of the larger spaces that hasn't been converted into sleeping quarters, storage, or something else. The Founders sit on a raised platform in leather chairs taken from one of the department stores, with a jury panel off to the side seated on two tables pushed together so that each of the dozen jurors can face the same direction. The group's armed escort distributes themselves around the room, and swarms of curious spectators stand on the floor above the food court, getting their first glimpse of the DHQS visitors or just wanting to keep tabs on the whole affair.

One of the Founders, seated in the center, clears his throat. Mark Flanagan is a fairly old man by the apocalypse's standards, probably well into his sixties by this point, and only survived this long by securing himself a gang of followers in the early days who protected him as long as he kept the water clean. Here, at the Mall, he's continued his success streak by overseeing what passes for the Maintenance Department around here.

"Please inform the tribunal of the circumstances of Ms. Robert's death." He says bluntly, leaning forward in his chair as hundreds of eyes swivel towards the accused.

Hardly impressed by the additional security in the form of shotgun-toting militia, Fredrik observed one of the militants salute Sybille before explaining to the entire group that they were expected to partake in a hearing. Rolling his eyes slightly, Fred glanced at Eden as the two of them formed up on Ryan who was as witty as ever.

Entering the food court felt somewhat mixed; on one hand Fred would've laughed if anyone ever told him he'd stand trial inside a shopping mall food court, on the other hand the faces of the Founders, jury, guards and spectators all shared a singular grim expression. Trials like these is a surefire way of keeping the locals in line. Hell, even the resemblance to a courtroom has a rather imposing psychological effect.

Crossing his arms behind his back and raising his chin slightly Fredrik began to glance at those assembled. Though more importantly he was looking at the number of guards, exits and for potential cover should there a prolonged firefight or engagement. In a perfect fantasy world a couple of downed Founders would make the guards and crowds disperse out of sheer fear though that would be a risky tactic as more than one individual in the room might be particular zealous member of the local community. If it was one thing he'd learned it was that a person with strong beliefs, nothing to lose- or everything- coupled with adrenaline pumping through their veins made for opponents as equally terrifying to the fastest of zekes barreling down on your position...

"Please inform the tribunal of the circumstances of Ms. Robert's death."

Click to expand...

Ah, the voice of authority.

Glancing at Ryan, Fredrik had a stern look on his face. Whether by chance or not a situation such as this had been discussed during the initial pre-op briefing months ago. Perhaps not a straight-up tribunal but a situation where Mall authority questioned or outright challenged that of the DHQS. Sure, the words left hanging in the air could be freely translated into a number of things but the fact was that agent McCarthy was the best chance these people had of continued survival in a world slowly changing into something less desperate and into something slightly more organized and tribal.

Yet here they stood, on trial and on public display for all of the Mall to see. It was a two-folded message; "The DHQS do not stand above us" and "We want the NUSA to see our authority".

Luckily, both Fredrik and Eden had been given Ryan's permission to test these boundaries. Seeing as Fredrik thoroughly enjoyed putting misguided and power-tripping civilians in their place it would be no challenge for him to test the Founder's authority. After all, if they cracked under the pressure of one complete stranger carrying nothing but the flag of a world since long engulfed in nuclear fire then they stood no chance of surviving tomorrow's challenges, whether they be political, military or economical.

Clearing his throat in a intentional loud manner before anyone else could speak, Fredrik raised his chin further just to really sell the 'high and mighty'-look. "I would ask the tribunal to please inform us- representatives of the DHQS, NUSA and United Nations- when they're done flexing their political muscles. While I'm all for American showmanship- especially tense courtroom scenes- I'd much rather go about our business before one of your trigger-happy chimpanzees gets a bit too nervous and starts a firefight in here just because he's been drinking some funny-tasting water for the past five years."

Fredrik studied the faces of the Founders before continuing; "We all know you're powerless to do anything even if you wanted to- lest you'd risk setting your own little fantasy kingdom on fire," he finished with his expression being as stern and serious as ever.

Popping his eyes open, Teddy kicked himself off the floor. He was in the process of saying "thanks" as he took an offered cigarette from the female agent when the security team barged in. He only had enough time to stick the cig between his lips before he was corralled out. The air of 'Nothing personal' hung heavy with these guys. He couldn't blame them in the slightest, they weren't even being dicks about it. Hell, one even offered him a light for his cigarette! They were just like everyone else in the mall really, some average joes just doing their jobs to get by.

Which was why he'd be pretty broken up if they got carpet-bombed.

He knew exactly what would happen if the NUSA's little welcoming committee came back in body bags. Hell, the little airstrike off in the distance from before was basically just a reminder. He was absolutely sure the people in the mall could hear the boom, because, y'know, drone strikes are generally pretty loud.

And that begged the question, what possessed the founders to do this? They must know the threat the DHQS posed and how much power those three agents alone held over the entire mall. Could they not realize that they could get wiped off the map if big man said one sentence into his radio? They had to, the founders and leaders of the biggest settlement in Missouri didn't logically translate into a half-humorous cohort of dumbasses. The only logical conclusion he could see was that they were so afraid of the notion of the NUSA stripping them of their power that they resorted to some half-baked power play over them in some vain attempt to be taken seriously.

He couldn't stop the laugh from coming out when they were introduced to the court. A food court? What was he expecting, a Best Buy or something? Well, he just didn't think he'd ever give a testimony when a slurpy machine was in eyesight.

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity as Flagellan spoke. His presence was...well, he was expecting a little more intimidation. Sure, they could kill him with a command, but so could every other wannabe warlord he's ran into. They weren't even missing an eye or possessed some sort of aura of lethality around them. A little disappointing, but it is what it is.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Teddy stepped between the Leftenant and Jay. Man, this guy just couldn't please anyone, could he?

"Ladies, ladies, you're both pretty. Will you stop fighting now?" Teddy whispered, a hint of humor in his voice. "There's a time and a place guys, and our trial isn't it," Teddy said, keeping his voice low.

"Let's just get this over with, alright?" Teddy said, walking up to the stand. "I've got this" he reassured one last time before taking the stand.

A lot of eyes on him, that was the first feeling. He'd never had this big of an audience before-unless you counted dead bodies wanting nothing but to rip him apart.

"Right, your majesty, I'll be the first to give an account," Teddy began without a hint of fear or anxiety in his voice, "We reached the rendezvous with the DHQS sometime around early afternoon. I'd give you an exact time, but, well, I haven't had a working watch in eight years. The meeting went swell if you ask me, the good captain here and Ms. Roberts hit it off especially. Had a whole coffee date planned, if you could believe it."

Continuing to stare Flagellan in the eye, Teddy resumed. "We were aboot an hour or two into our journey back here when things went South. Heard a DHQS drone strike in the distance-big explosion, probably eviscerated a horde out of sight or something", Teddy rambled, making sure to describe the airstrike just in case the founders really couldn't get it through their skulls that the DHQS did that regularly. "Next thing we know, a Vector comes along. Covered in full body armor too. We struck a firing line as quickly as we could, but it was too fast for any of us to get a proper shot off. Now, I don't like speaking ill of the dead, but Ms. Roberts, she panicked. Split off from the group so she wasn't behind us anymore. The preferred outcome was that it would've had to get through us to get to her, but it just jumped straight to her. It had a chunk of her leg in its mouth before we could get it".

Giving a tired sigh, Teddy continued. "The captain here made the call. She was turning, and he was the only one willing to do it. He shot her twice. I can't say I blame him, it's what I'd want if I was in her place. Cap-everyone here, really, tried their best. There was nothing else we coulda done for her."

Going silent, Teddy folded his arms in front of his chest. If the idiots over there tried pressing the issue, they were going to need a wake-up call about how hot of water they were in.

Jesus fucking christ. Sybille hung her head in a mix of embarrassment and fear as Teddy took the stand in an impassioned defense. While she appreciated his eagerness to keep the group alive, she wished Ryan had been a little bit louder about announcing his “noble” decision to put Kat out of her misery or that he had spoken first. As it stood then, Sybille was more worried about the lot of them being executed for contempt than for Kat’s death.

The Founders weren’t exactly people of theatrics. Or, more aptly, the Founders weren’t a fan of other people having even more theatrical theatrics. Teddy opening with “your majesty” would almost definitely be viewed as attempting to one up them. So, to repeat, jesus fucking christ.

“Sybille!” Flanagan’s voice cut through the anticipation of the courtroom. As the highest ranking surviving member of The Mall, Sybille wasn’t exactly surprised being singled out in the way she was, but she enjoyed the circumstances no more because of that fact. What should she say? Ryan was lying to protect Charlie and, by extension, Sybille’s whole crew, sure, but what if someone else slips?

Sybille glanced between her crew. Of course she cared for all of them as much as any leader would about their subordinates, but they all felt like wildcards. Their stability seemed largely questionable. She also hadn’t expected Jordan or Teddy to speak up so quickly in the manner that they did.

Sybille bit her lip and fiddled with her left earlobe as her tired eyes wandered over to the DHQS agents. Her and her crew had clashed with Fred repeatedly in the short time they’d known each other and something about the way Ryan seemed to bask in his own authority rubbed Sybille the wrong way. Eden seemed friendly enough and didn’t strike her as the military type, but ultimately, Ryan was her superior. Sybille sure as hell couldn’t guess where Eden’s allegiance would fall if push came to shove.

Flanagan’s now inpatient voice cut through the silence again. “Sybille. What really happened?”

Sybille cleared her throat. Here goes nothing. “Well Mr. Flanagan,” she started, eyes darting between the Founders and the various breeds of onlookers, “Despite their choice methods of communication so far, I can’t really add much that hasn’t been said by the members of my crew already.” She lightly cleared her throat again, but steadily gained momentum as she spoke in the food court. “Jordan was absolutely correct; it was a failing on all of our parts that Ms. Roberts fell in the field, but the protocol for vector bites is clear. None of us would be reporting back to you right now if we hadn’t taken the action that we did and,” Sybille took a deep breath and swallowed heavily in an effort not to seem overly threatening with her next point, “if the DHQS agents stopped reporting in the field, chances are the NUSA would have bombed the Mall before our vectored corpses made it back to the gates.”

Flanagan begins to put together an embittered response when Ryan clears his throat and steps forward, separating himself from the group to be out in the open. Some of the guards lurch towards him, and in response he spits on the worn linoleum floor.

“If we can all be done here posturing here..” Ryan says, giving Jordan and then the Founders a pointed look, “Then I’d like to get on with my business here.” He says, sweeping his arms out and mostly speaking to the crowd now. “Which is to negotiate terms of cooperation between the Mall and the NUSA armed forces. To deliver supplies, prosperity, food.”

Flanagan intervenes. “You can’t threaten us out of getting justice by bribing us with paltry gifts.”

Ryan sneers. “Please. Our satellite feed has eyes on your gardens. Your harvest is coming in badly this year, 70% yields.” He says tiredly, then jabs a finger up at the crowd. “You can kill me. You can’t kill all of them when the food riots start. Or you could let me feed your people, fly in blankets for winter, and air drop in medication. Lets not play with lives. One was enough for today.”

Lars was less than eager to be part of this trial. If anything he'd prefer they'd just give him a sentence and put him in a cell. At least then he could take a nap, or throw pebbles at cell mates. Something more entertaining than talking about who-did-what. Lars wasn't one for talking to a crowd and was even less the type to put up a wordy defense for himself. Lars was more about actions and going through a lengthy talking process was little more than a time waster for him. Then he remembered the short time he went to college to become a lawyer. God, what was he thinking back then? It's a good thing the world ended before he had to decide any one career path, lest he still be trying to get an Associates without switching every semester.

At the trial itself, Lars was just another face in the group of DHQS and Mall members in custody. Those that knew Lars in the crowds high above him would no doubt think of him as innocent in this regard. He had a stable reputation to the people of the Mall, and killing a Founder in cold blood wasn't something he'd do, especially if he was hired to protect her. Out here, all Lars had was his reputation. People wouldn't hire him for anything if he constantly mucked up missions or took any hit he wanted. Regardless, it was clear from the expression on Lars' face that he was deeply amused by the bickering between Jordan and Fred. Conflict was fun, and a great way to make this occasion much less dull. Maybe he'd even get to see a punch thrown, if he was lucky.

In regards to the power play between the DHQS and the Mall, Lars felt an overwhelming support for the DHQS. While he loved his position in the Mall, there was no way they could win against NUSA. No way in hell. They ought to just give up now and maybe ask for some shiny new housing in NUSA as payment for being cooperative. The end of the Apocalypse was beginning, and soon, maybe a few years or a decade from now, this way of life would just be another page in a future history book. Lars held no special affiliation with the Mall, and wouldn't mind the change in hierarchy, if only to see the Founders get pushed around a little, as they often do to others.

Of course, when the Mall inevitably joins the DHQS, Lars wouldn't be one to stay long. Maybe by the time Lars would pack up and leave, those he knew in the Ashfields would welcome him back, and maybe the heat on his back would've cooled by now. Whatever happened, NUSA overlords were on their way, and the Mall was hopeless to stop it.