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

[totallytrustworthy]

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.]
 

Comments

[hyanaimne]

Ah, fair point. [she shrugs, taking a brief glance down the hallway again to make sure they were still alone]

I suppose you can consider me a teammate, then.

[totallytrustworthy]

Right, well, the one thing we've got in our favor right now is strength in numbers. We've, what-- hundreds to their tens? [Look, she hasn't taken a head count, that's Charlie's job.] Which means sneaking in to get our hands on the transporter is an actual possibility.

And once we have it, all we need to do is lock it down and demand a little equality in exchange for passing their tech back.

[hyanaimne]

Seems simple enough. [Tempest was never one for numbers or real plans as it was - she was was always the hired help, there either to provide protection or power] How many have agreed to work with you?

[totallytrustworthy]

Mm? Oh. [Four does not an attractive number make.] Ten. So far, of course. Probably a few more will turn up with a little luck.

Or the right connections.

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest can't think of too many who would actually . . . be interested in participating. Some who may agree with the idea, of course, but otherwise]

Hopefully. I cannot say I know many who would join in, though. [wryly] I've made friends with too many of those "good" kinds of people.

[totallytrustworthy]

Oh ouch, c'mon. It's not as if we're the bad sort. [Yes, Chloe, yes you are.]

[hyanaimne]

I did not mean it as an insult towards us.

[totallytrustworthy]

Right. Must be the company I keep these days. Very judge-y.

[hyanaimne]

Judge-y is a good descriptor.

[totallytrustworthy]

[Chloe chuckles under her breath, cants her head off towards the other end of the corridor before continuing on.] Nice to know I'm not the only one getting a little heat from the hero crowd.

[hyanaimne]

It is not so much that I am getting heat, as you say, but I have never seen eye to eye with that type. [she shrugs, casual as can be, as if they're talking about the weather] Being a criminal and all.

[totallytrustworthy]

Careful, now. Someone might overhear you waving your c-card about and try to arrest you.

[Still, it's nice to meet someone that doesn't play knight in shining armor day in and day out.] What sort of jobs were you running?

[hyanaimne]

They can certainly try.

[fellow criminals unite. It is nice to talk shop, just a little] I was mostly hired for my magic - protection, extra muscle, that sort of thing. Usually by thieves who needed it while they went after various "objects" of worth.

[totallytrustworthy]

You don't say. [God, it'd be a match made in heaven if not for the time and place. Chloe can't count the number of jobs that'd have gone one hell of a lot better with a little magic in hand.

Not that she cares for magic in general, but...a year of putting up with it means she's built a mild tolerance.] Miss it much?

[hyanaimne]

Sometimes . . .

[the answer is slow, almost like she had to consider it first. It wasn't a bad job per say, if she took out the assassination jobs, the murder, certain people she worked for before she ended up here . . . all the things she usually left out when explaining what she did]

I miss the traveling bit far more, though. I am not one for staying in one place for too long.

[totallytrustworthy]

You and me both. [Which is the truth, and it comes off as much instead of something casual or offhanded. More than anything she missss the freedom. The sight of prayer flags fluttering against a Himalayan backfrop at six in the morning, the oddly soothing racket of crowded streets in London-- it kept her grounded. Kept her sane.

Kept her from doing things like this. ]

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest makes a wry, bitter noise]

This place is not suited for people like us.

[totallytrustworthy]

And it never will be. [No matter how much they restore at the expense of the past.]

Good to know I'm not the only one that sees it.

[hyanaimne]

It is hard not to see.

[totallytrustworthy]

See, I thought that too until everyone else around here started acting like I was crazy. Bloody maddening.

[hyanaimne]

They must not travel a lot, if they cannot understand that.

[totallytrustworthy]

You, myself-- and the rest of my mates are just about the only people around here I've met that prefer to live life on the go.

[hyanaimne]

I am of the opinion that there is no other way to live. Staying in one place . . . it does not seem appealing at all.

[totallytrustworthy]

Don't think it really is, no. Besides, Charlie and I might actually wind up killing one another if this keeps up. [It's an offhanded comment, but true nonetheless if their little zombie run in was any sort of indication of how well they tolerate stress.]

[hyanaimne]

That would be . . . [she trails off, blinks, and turns to look at Chloe] Charlie?