exsiliumlogs | [OPEN] Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace

Date & Time: various; post zombie madness
Location: Places
Characters: Chloe Frazer and YOU-- or at least we all hope it's you in there
Summary: last boarding call for the S.S. Disaster of the Century (viva la revolution)
Warnings: copious amounts of Robin Hooditis

A: Cafeteria

[She doesn't much care for the idea of borrowing anything when supplies are scarce. Doesn't like the thought that this is-- for the moment-- all they've got left. But plans are plans, and change is necessary, and nothing in this world (or any other for that matter) comes without a cost. If they mean to hole themselves up long enough for negotiations to leave them all in a better state than the one they're in right now, then spare packets of food and water are more necessity than nicety.

Still, doesn't make the pill go down any easier; Chloe spends more time hovering near the kitchens than what's appropriate for anyone that isn't Gordon Ramsay. Might be worth looking into, honestly.]

B: Corridors; farther away from housing

[And the damage isn't as noticeable as it ought to be, (years of abandonment means the base already looks a half step away from collapsing like a house of cards) but considering she'd rather not experience what it's like getting sucked out into the endless vacuum that is our known universe any time soon, Chloe's quick to lend a hand wherever it's needed amongst the more battle scarred sections of the station. Sure, she's exhausted-- looks the part, sporting a good layer of salt and dust that's been there since the start of the undead fiasco-- but the sooner they get the base back into (relatively) good shape, the sooner she'll feel secure enough to sleep like a proper human being.

If it takes hammering at a few panels for that to be a reality, count her in.]

C: Housing

[Supplies seen to for the moment, holes patched up and wiring duct taped together, Chloe's just about done. The past week hasn't been kind, the past year hasn't stopped digging in under her skin: she's spent. Walks like one of the staggering dead they'd just spent all they've got in them to kill off, on a mission to just get through that last bloody section of the station to hibernate so hard they'll have to hire a prince to wake her up.

So it's safe to say she's not really watching where she's going, arms full up with pilfered foodstuffs and scrap-- and it's also safe to say she won't appreciate any incoming distractions. Or collisions.]

---

[ooc: Use whatever format you like-- and if none of these prompts suit you, feel free to create one of your own! Chloe's out and about and prone to dozing off in a few inappropriate spots for impromptu naps; it's a terrible habit someone should do something about it.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On occasion. When the pay's good enough. [there's one slow, thoughtful little beat before she adds, eyes set off on the doorway that leads outside.]--or when need trumps just about everything else on the table.

I think any skills you have would better serve finding a way home than tricking the unwitting... We were brought against our will, and we cannot remain here forever.

[ He scowls out the window. It was the way in which the Initiative went about things that rubbed Altaïr the wrong way. He had responsibilities back home that needed taking care of. ]

I've been here a year, love. Believe me, there's nothing I haven't tried. [Or will try. Still, the usual humor's not really in her voice when she says it: this is a subject worth being serious about.]

[ He stares at her incredulously. That he's showing this much surprise in front of a stranger is something. ]

They cannot keep us this long!

[ Well, clearly they have. He stows his useless words. ]

I intend to leave, and I will do what I must. They can find someone else; they have the means.

Oi, oi, easy darling. Easy. [She's quick to lift her hands in a rushed attempt to comfort someone that likely doesn't need it. Old habits left over from dealing with grown men that usually do.] There might be another way to go about this before you wind up getting yourself killed.

I do not fear death.

[ Er. That statement and its icy tone probably isn't going to assuage her fears. ]

...I do not draw my blade so readily, like a fool. You've been here a long time, you know of their workings better than I do. If you think the Initiative will listen to sense, you may help me put together a convincing argument.

Sense might be a little gracious, but yeah, actually. Before the numbers swap back in their favor, there are more of us than there are of them.

And a few of us are planning to take advantage of that fact.

...What's this about outnumbering them? I thought you didn't want me to get myself killed? Even if most of the people in this fortress do disagree with them, I doubt they'll put it to vote.

[ He scoffs at the last word. The Initiative take people hostage; he doubts they subscribe to democracy. ]

But I am listening.

Well we're not planning on jumping them while they're on the toilet. Low staff means low security for the transporter-- you know, the machine that brought you here; the only way for the Initiative to get back to full power-- and if we time it right, slipping in to take control of it? Easy as anything.

From there on out it's just a matter of holding onto it till they agree to let transports have a say in what goes on around here.

[ As the topic of conversation turns clearly conspiratorial, his eyes dart about for eavesdroppers. Luckily, they're alone, and he's had the foresight not to open the microwave. The smell alone would have caught everyone's attention. ]

That would require some heavy planning. Scouts to gather information; those skilled in stealth to slip in; fighters to hold that room for as long as negotiations take...

[ He's familiar with using intimidation, and threatening the Initiative's valuable piece of equipment may work... "may" being the key word. ]

I think you'll need more than 'a few' men.

Stealth is what I do best, darling. Trust me on that. As for the rest...[She lifts her eyebrows, shrugs with her hands still in her pockets in a gesture that roughly translates to having it all tucked under her belt already.] We won't need half as much as you might think.

But it'd be good to have you along for the ride when we do.

Our success is the best shot you have at getting home, after all.

[ He remembers how he'd first seen her, hovering around the kitchens longer than was normal. She'd tossed him a meal packet. A person of stealth; likely a thief. He makes to idly drum his fingers on his belt, surreptitiously checking his pouches. He has done his share of stealing as well.

He likes the idea of a small, focused team infiltrating a place, rather than a frontal assault. It's what he's been trained for. ]

And no one but the Initiative knows how to operate that machine?

[ If so, it was best to get the Initiative to listen to them, rather than instigate a complete hostile takeover. He doubts they can teleport people with knowledge gained from interrogation. People's lives would be at risk. ]

They're not teaching transporter 101 if that's what you're asking, no. [There's a pause, Chloe purses her lips briefly as the memory of him being completely out of the technological loop hits her. Right. Probably not going to get the joke.]

We need them to start offering us some equal footing in exchange for our assistance in their hopeless war; they can't go on like this, and we'll all be done for if some real, experienced tactics aren't put to use on the field.

[ ...Are they labeling the Transporter with a number now? He keeps that question to himself and favors more serious talk. Because he is very serious, as if that wasn't obvious already. ]

If only the Initiative would work with us, instead of against us. They did themselves no favors when they held so many skilled fighters against their will. Even so, I still think we would need to convince them, rather than force them.

Very well. I will listen to your plan, either now or – [ he surreptitiously glances around ] – in a more secure location.

[OPEN] Standing on the cliff face, highest fall you'll ever grace

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject