Chains of Retribution Road Trip

Dashmiel

Bearly In Charge
Administrator
Nexus GM
The morning was young enough that the sun’s pale rays still struggled to banish the wispy fog that always seemed to pool around Lutetian early mornings as Ragenard drove up to the warehouse at the abandoned tracks. Who he procured the oversized camper trailer attached to the dingy pickup from, and how he was in so early were questions that there was no one around to ask yet, for he had arrived several hours earlier than the expected pack members.

Once again the twin boons of the curse of Ragenard’s diminished need for sleep borne from the unholy sources within, and the connections of a misspent youth, were bearing fruit.

He parked the dubiously acquired vehicle on the side of the warehouse, partly screened from casual view of the street and got out.

He spent half an hour going over the place, making sure the preparations he had commanded had started to get underway the day before. Afterwards, he walked up into the camper and after rummaging for a bit walked back out with a collapsible beach chair and a beer. Sat down with alcohol in hand, he pulled out a cigarette and settled in to wait.
 
The sound of Draaven's bike was the first to interrupt Ragenard's solitude before it veered off the empty road to pull up alongside the camper. Letting the engine die, he dismounted and moved to untie a thick roll from the back of the bike. Whatever was inside it proved heavy as he it hit the ground with a loud thunk when he dropped it. With one foot he pushed it to roll open.

"Some stuff for the road," he said.

Inside the roll had been sewn various pouches and straps to keep a wide selection of tools and blades ranging from pocket knives to military grade combat knives.

"I didn't bring a whole lot back with me from overseas," he explained. "Just that and the shotgun."

The shotgun in question remained holstered to the side of his bike.

Draaven withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his own pocket. "You know, here I thought I was done traveling and I'm home what, two days? And you've got me heading off to Iveria?" he asked with a chuckle while he fished out his lighter. "Imagine it'll give you time to get me up to speed on everything I missed while I was gone," he added after he lit up the cigarette. "Last I heard any news was that Valérie had split ways. The Nomads now, right?" he asked. "I probably should have come back sooner."
 
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Wishing she could block out all thoughts while sleeping, Aimee found herself up earlier than expected in the morning thanks to the whirling series of nightmares that plagued her. Grunting, she finished packing up what she thought she might need before jumping into the shower. It wasn’t long before she was completely dressed with both her injuries rebandaged. Leaving her roommate a quick note, the teenager grabbed her gun and slid it into the special place in her metallic blue jacket and went as far to shove a second one gun into her black knee high boots. Grabbing her camping backpack, she headed out of the apartment, pausing to lock the door behind her. Thankfully she had procured a beat up Bug and tossed her pack into the backseat before sliding into the front seat. Starting the beast up, Aimee exhaled deeply and headed out.

“This better not be a fucking trap.” Muttering to herself, she ran her fingers through her wet black hair, shoving the strands out of her Prussian blue eyes so that she could see properly despite how tired she felt. She knew there was no way in hell she could fight back against Ragenard if he decided to take his irritation concerning the betrayal of her father out on her, but she wasn’t going to just roll over and let him kill her.

“Dad, you are such a fucking …” Unable to finish her thought, Aimee turned the corner and found a place to park her borrowed car. It was hidden out of view and she reached into the backseat and pulled out her pack. Jogging to where they were to meet, she spotted Ragenard and Draaven and just slowly approached them.

“Hey.” She managed, waving a bit while feeling her shoulders tightening up in preparation of an attack.
 
Ragenard nodded appreciatively whilst sipping his beer as Draaven's pack hit the floor with a satisfying clank. He'd forgotten during the more peaceful times; he'd forgotten how good it felt to have people stand by you who didn't ask any questions, just came loaded for bear thick or thin.

He looked over Draaven's collection as the man's remarks registered.

"Yeah, Nomad's is what they are now. Part of me wish it hadn't come to that," he said ruefully. "Bitch might be the only person I know who's more full of themselves than I am, but you wouldn't catch me dead claiming Val can't back it up." Ragenard quaffed the rest of his beer before continuing, "Still, I had to stand by my brother. Wasn't a world where that wouldn't be true, and there were some good times in those 8 years."

He stood up and stretched a bit to work out a kink, before leaning closer to Draaven's pack of knives. "Any of these pure iron," he said distractedly, giving them a sniff. Of course, he couldn't expect them to be. His sword would have to be enough, and with luck no one in the pack would have to deal with that side of Iveria on this trip.

"You're right about us having a lot to talk though," he said as the stood back up. "Grab the shottie, and park the bike in the warehouse. You'll hate me a little bit, but you're riding with me in the cab of this piece of shit," he exclaimed as he pounded the rusty sides of the pickup truck the camper was attached to.

"We're all gonna be traveling together on the same vehicle, incognito. Just another bunch of hick Lutetian tourists, off to enjoy the nature trails of green Iveria the home of the," he trailed off as he heard hurried footsteps approaching in the near distance. Not quite in view yet, whoever it was, he could almost swear he hard indecision in their gait. Something not quite even anyhow.

A tight smile made it's way to his face, and he was just preparing to pull out a knife from Draaven's still open pack when the wind shifted, carrying Aimee's scent scant seconds before her form came into view. He tried to inconspicuously relax his countenance as she slowly approached.

He'd been right, he could practically smell the anxiety in her sweat and the tension in her shoulders was evident. Funny, he'd likely not notice something like that before, even as early as a couple of days before. He didn't subscribe much to the "alpha" wolf mumbo jumbo, but maybe there was something to it, even if subconsciously.

Either that or the weight he'd placed on himself was causing it to act up weirdly. He'd hope for the former. A nice and uneventful trip without any of that would be very nice.

"Hey Aimee," he called out, slight bit of mental effort clicking in his brain as he willfully avoided the pup moniker. "Come on up. There's beer and water in the camper, you can ask that Eliza chick to point them out, she's in there," he said amicably. He had no doubts that her father's betrayal weighed heavily on her, and he figured she probably felt her place in the pack was now in question.

Sadly, he doubted his new fledgling sense of his pack-mates was grown advanced enough to allow him to magically pull the right words to say out of his ass. Oh well, hopefully she'd see the point of her inclusion in this outing on her own.

"Did you park out of view?" he asked.
 
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The peculiar question about iron went unanswered by Draaven as it got forgotten with the abrupt shift of the conversation and the arrival of Aimee.

"Sounds good to me," he replied to Ragenard. "I'm going to go take a piss while I'm at it. I'll be back shortly," he said as he began to roll his bike towards the warehouse.

"Hey kid," he said as he passed Aimee.
 
There were a million things rampaging through her mind at that moment, mostly visions of her ending just like her father. If she were in the position that Ragenard was in, would she allow the offspring of a traitor live? It seemed foolish to allow her to keep breathing, but more so that he was taking on her a trip. No, this was a trap and she was going to be demolished into a pile of goop once they were away from anyone that might want her to live. Never before did she question where she stood in the pack, mostly because she trusted her father to keep her safe. Now, there was that impending doom and it was making her sick to her stomach. If she was going to be killed, she wished he would just get on with it.

“Probably not wise of me to start drinking beer… yenno, since I’m trying to not be an alcoholic ‘n all.” Sure, she wanted a beer, but she had to be on her guard and that meant a clear mind. The whiskey from earlier was almost completely out of her system, so she was good on that front. “Water is good though, thanks.” Smiling faintly, she stepped forward closer to the camper, trying to remember who the hell Eliza happened to be.

“Oh, hiya… Draaven, right?” Waving a hand towards the male that had accompanied them when they went searching for Jacques, she adjusted her pack before finally moving over to the camper, pausing at the door to glance at Ragenard.

“Mmmhmm, yep. It’s nice and cozy in its special hiding place.” With that, she stepped up into the camper and tossed her pack to a corner before peering over at the strange female. “Water?” She questioned, her body automatically shifting so that she could see all of the potential attacking spots. Maybe she was going to be killed too and they were both lured into the camper unknowingly and Ragenard was going to make it explode or something. That thought brought a slight shiver down her spine, especially when she remembered what had happened at the were house the other day.

“Nope.” Stepping back out, she shuddered and moved off to the side, trying to keep from throwing up as the visions of her father’s remains came to the forefront of her brain.
 
The sound of a humming bike engine along with the tinny beat of loud music coming through headphones heralded the arrival of another of the pack, just as Aimee was stepping back out of the camper. Snow flicked his hood down as he rolled up to the group, taking the headphones with it to settle around his neck, still blasting heavy guitars and drumbeats. "Hey," he gave a nod first to Ragenard, then to Aimee, slinging a duffel bag from his shoulder that hit the ground with a telltale clink of bottles. "Wasn't sure how much was too much, so I've got my 12-gauge and a nine, plus ammo and booze."

He gave a dubious glance across at the trailer, then looked back to Ragenard with a scowl that was at least half-joking. "Tell me that's not here for the reason I think it is. You gone hick on us since Desmond's buddies showed up or something? We trailer trash now?"
 
"Did somebody call for 'trailer trash'?"

Nadel's arrival was highlighted by the expression of pure smugness on her face; in prison, there hadn't been nearly enough opportunities for comedic timing such as this. She took in the faces she could see, and placed an imaginary check next to the one she recognized, Ragenard's. She seemed to have missed Draaven is his return of his bike to the warehouse. She intended to greet Rage outright, but the roll of shiny and sharpened objects on full display in front stole her attention instead.

"Hoooooooly fucking shit, would you look at all of that!" A delighted bubble of laughter rose to the surface of her waters as she pointed enthusiastically at it all. Her own arsenal was modest in comparison, considering she had been back on the outside for less than twenty-four hours, but she had the handgun Ragenard had provided her with the night prior, as well as the two additional guns that she had requested from him upon hearing about Papa Mac. "I'm starting to feel a little better about this job now, Rage, seein' alla that."

She didn't bother making introductions to the ones she didn't know, partially out of knowing that they'd be made for her, and partially out of the lack of desire to socialize. Due to her ignorance of any of the established relationships between those present, she was oblivious to any tension or anxiety being felt at the time.
 
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Eliza was seated at a tiny table inside the camper that was designed to be collapsed and folded out into a small cot to save on space in the cramped quarters. Atop the table where strewn the parts of a disassembled gun that she had been working on cleaning and oiling when Aimee entered. She didn't look up at Aimee's inquiry, simply responding with "minifridge." Before she had even finished the word though, Aimee was already moving to one side looking a bit worse for the wear. It was enough to draw Eliza's eyes up to glance at the girl.

"If you're going to upchuck, try to do it outside?" she asked.

The question would likely go unanswered though, as the door of the camper banged shut behind Aimee's quick departure.

She was already less than happy about this impromptu road trip with a bunch of strangers, and the last thing she wanted to endure was the stench of vomit the whole way.

Meanwhile outside Draaven was rejoining the group, and a smile cracked across his face at the sight of another familiar face.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in," he remarked. "Heard you were getting out soon. Though from the look of it your accommodations probably won't be improving for a bit," he added with a cracked grin at the camper that had to somehow accommodate a group of six. "Ragenard's idea."
 
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Ragenard decided it was best to just shrug off Aimee's behavior away from now. It was her business if she wanted to switch to a teetotaler lifestyle. Though in his view she'd be wasting her time as she'd either live enough to drink again at some point in the next couple of centuries, or she'd be dead. Not to mention a waste of a preternaturally robust liver in his opinion.

He entertained these notions as he cracked open another beer just in time for his senses to tune in to the fact that yes, that vehicle was moving out of the background noise and moving closer.

Motorcycle engine, probably Snow then, he thought just as the young Annarian came into view.

He returned the man's nod with a smile as the sonorous clinking played like music to his ears.

"You got the vitals, can't ever have too much booze," Ragenard commented as his smile turned into a sarcastic smirk. "And yup, it's exactly what you think"—his voice shifted to surprise as his eyes widened—"Fucking hell Nad."

He was mildly perturbed by Nadel's appearance, but simply shook his head in frustration. There wasn't much breeze to speak of yet, and he'd smoked too recently to catch her natural scent anyhow. But he'd thought he'd have been able to hear her. It was a good reminder of how sneaky she could be. It seemed prison had failed to strip her of more than her mannerisms.

"I'd forgotten what a sneaky bitch you are," he said standing up to rummage through Snow's duffel for a different brew. "Yeah, well. You know that ain't gonna last," he said in reference to her feeling better comment. He knew she was aware a couple of tanks wouldn't be enough if Papa Mac decided to get nasty.

"This here's little Adair, Nieve's kid," he said nodding towards Snow for Nadel's benefit. "All grown up now, goes by Snow. Because of the hair or how much of a cold bastard he is depends on his mood at the time."

"Aimee's over there," he said pointing off towards the middle distance. "Jacques' pup, thankfully the apple did fall a bit of a way off the tree there. Draaven should be—Ah fuck you, joke's on you," he said as Draaven's remarks upon joining them registered. "You're both gonna be riding in the cab with me for the first leg," he said to Draaven and Nadel.

Everyone was here now, so they could get going soon.

"Alright everyone, grab a blade courtesy of Draaven just in case we end up stranded in a bog and run out of bullets. We're going into rural Iveria, weird shit spawns there," his tone was jocular, but he had to work to suppress the shiver that wanted to play out through his body.

It would be exceedingly unlikely...and yet he know far too well just what kind of strangeness they'd be in the midst of. Knew exactly how much of a risk of alerting said strangeness his mere presence within Iveria would incur. He'd have to hope the spell held, and that he still believed in fairy tales.

As he waited for everyone to busy themselves with their packs he got his chair stashed away and opened the exterior storage compartments on the camper for people to stuff their bulkier bags away.

"Draaven, would you mind cracking the hood on the truck, give it a look over," he said gesturing towards the scuffed pickup. "I know it needs oil, there's some in the warehouse. Snow come with me to look for it." he said with a nod towards the young annarian.
 
Thankfully her mind was sidetracked when Snow came onto the scene on his motorcycle. She nodded and even went as far as to wave towards Snow before running fingers through her hair; grunting mostly to herself as she peered towards the duffel bag, noting the clinking sound. Damn, this was going to be harder than she thought. Naturally, she picked the worst day ever to decide to stop her damaging habits. Ah well, no one said life was going to be easy. At least the puking sensation had dissipated for the time being. Popping her back and trying to stop feeling so paranoid, the young female glanced up towards the sky, letting the light breeze blow across her flesh. It felt good and it reminded her of running through the woods in her wolf form; something she hadn’t done in quite a while.

“Mmm… feels good…” Feeling calmer than before and less anxious, Aimee couldn’t help but giggle at the trailer trash line, though it was definitely fitting. Shifting her gaze towards a new arrive, the nineteen-year-old studied her cautiously, but it was apparent she and Ragenard knew each other, so the raven haired female just shrugged to herself and looked back up to the sky.

Realizing that Ragenard was introducing the one named Nad, which she assumed was a nickname of the female, Aimee glanced over, though this time she didn’t wave. Instead she just nodded her head, grimacing just a little at the comment made, knowing that Ragenard was still pissed about her pop’s betrayal. “Weird shit seems to follow us around.” Muttering with a light snort, she stepped forward and peered at the blades before spotting one that was almost like her missing knife. Snatching it, Aimee stepped back away, stretching out her body once again, knowing the ride was going to suck balls. Her wrist was almost healed and her face was as well, but the scars were quite prominent. It just fueled the rage that was within her and made her even more determined to destroy Sasha slowly and painfully.

“Back into the tin can I go.” Aimee opened the door to the back of the camper and stepped in, stashing the knife in the process. Moving to the mini-fridge, she grabbed out a bottle of water and settled down in the corner by her pack, starting to drink. Part of her hoped that Ragenard and anyone else that knew she was a drunkard would appreciate her resolve in becoming sober and the other part hoped she would be able to keep her resolve intact. Glancing back towards the female cleaning and oiling her gun, the teen exhaled softly.

“Hi… I’m Aimee Chevrier. Sorry for rushing out on you earlier. You must be Eliza?”
 
"Of course I know it ain't gonna last, but you don't have to remind me of that, you asshat." Nadel jabbed back at Ragenard as he began the introductions, giving Snow a cursory glance and accompanying nod. She then presented a physical grimace at Ragenard's closing pun.

The mention of Jacques' pup piqued her interest, but it was snubbed out quickly by the entirely welcome distraction of Draaven's return.

"Draaven, my man! I knew you'd be sympathetic, I've already asked ol' Ragey here to just put me back in prison at this rate, sheesh!" She returned his grin. "Thanks for bringing all of these fun toys, by the way."

Watching Aimee silently as she choose her blade, Nadel took note of the almost healed wounds. Definitely gotta ask about that. 'Hey, how'd you fuck up your face?' Nah, that's not right...

Once the aforementioned pup of Jacques' had made her choice and deviated away to the camper, Nadel then approached the roll to claim her own prize.

Pleased with her selection, Nadel turned to taunt Ragenard some more.

"Aw c'mon, you know you're going to make me feel left out if you don't assign me a task too. What can I do, cap'n?" She disguised hidden truth in her humor, as usual.

All she wanted was to feel reintegrated.
 
Snow answered Aimee's wave with a familiar nod, raising a few fingers in something that approximated returning the gesture. His eyes lingered on the younger girl for a few moments - his expression somewhere between concern and uncertainty - before another abrupt arrival drew his eyes away. After what had happened to Jacques, he'd considered reaching out to her. Their situations were hardly identical, but... well, maybe there'd be time for that sort of conversation on the road, if he decided he was ready to wrestle that particular monster.

He wouldn't have recognised the Nadel at first sight, but his nose had a stronger memory than his eyes, and so his surprise at her approach didn't go so far as alarm. It was only once Ragenard addressed the woman that his brain put her scent's familiarity together with the name to find some memories of her from before she got put away. He'd been younger, then, but he remembered the pack he'd grown up around.

He rolled his eyes at Ragenard's introduction for him, huffing a half-laugh. For his part, all he added was a "Hey", and a nod - hardly doing much to contradict the description.

At the instruction, he grabbed one of the blades from the indicated bag - he had his own knife, but a backup was never a bad idea. He half-raised an eyebrow at the second request, but didn't question it, just nodding. "Sure thing," he replied simply, making for the door. He doubted Ragenard needed the help just looking for some oil, but he supposed would find out whether there was something more once they were inside.
 
"Draaven might need help," Ragenard said sarcastically to Nadel. "Unscrewing the lids on the engine reservoirs might be too tough for him." His words were tinged with levity, but his eyes as he passed Nadel on his way to the warehouse were tight with trepidation in a way that it wasn't likely for anyone that hadn't known him for over half a century to notice.

To further emphasize to her that he wasn't dismissing her, his hands flashed through a quick flurry of motions aimed at her; A part of a sillier carefree past borne from bad gangster tv serials watched with stolen beer and weed to accompany them. 'Hold, and trust me', meant the signs.



Ragenard led Snow a fair bit into the shadowy recesses of the warehouse, grabbing a can of oil that had stood prepared right by the threshold as he went in deeper. He wasn't sure how good her hearing was and didn't particularly care if he was heard but, he'd feel remiss not to make the attempt and gestures. He was quickly finding that being in charge came with a way of thinking that was altogether different from the things he usually concerned with. He just hoped that way of thinking was his own.

"So, don't hate me too much," he began with a smirk. "But I'm sticking you in the camper all trip long, and it's not just to keep Aimee company through her...erm, moodiness. The Eliza girl, she's managed to convince me she's not a Scion spy, and really was unlucky as fuck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I want you to keep an eye on her though, too much of an unknown. She might decide that there's something to be earned by jumping ship and ratting to the Scions."

Ragenard look the young man straight in the eyes and nodded. "I trust you more than most of the youngins' when it comes to hard work. If she tries anything before we're in Iveria, kill her," his delivery of the order was absolutely deadpanned and he passed the oil can over to Snow. "Let's get out there, we're about ready to take off."
 
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