Adenovirus 423 DC Armory: Vehicle Hangar

Crim

Crim

The blobfish
The big warehouse within the Armory arena where the few vehicles that the Knights have are kept and maintained by the mechanics available. Main vehicles are buggies which have limited use due to petrol and oil shortages, but there have been advances on how to get vehicles running, as well as knowing about some fuel reserves still. The vehicles are more for defense and emergency means rather than common use. Or are used to get from East to West when needed to cut journey time if urgent.
 
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"Oi, Fuck-up."

Trys pulled himself out from fixing up one of the vehicles that had been found from No Man's Land. It had been a promising find that had taken a few hours and another vehicle to get it back. There were a few things missing, and even more things that needed to be replaced, but Trys was one of the best. He'd learned from one of the best and they still had the books in his quarters on engineering and vehicle maintance that had been passed through the generations that had been written before the war that had destroyed everything.

"What do you want, Dickens?"

Dickens was one of the scouts for East that had taken to teasing or borderline bullying Trys because of the boy's reputation with fucking up any job given to him that wasn't to do with a vehicle. Jacob had almost killed him for getting a vehicle stolen a few months previously. He'd had to pull double shifts and also done a months worth of PT as punishment. He thought he was going to die.

"Just checking that you aren't fuckin' anything else up." He smirked.

Trys moved back under the vehicle he was working on. "I'm doing my job."

Dickens laughed. "At least we know you can do that right. For now."

Trys wanted to get up and hit the guy but he knew he wouldn't win. Dickens was all muscle and someone who you didn't want to mess with. Trys had been on the receiving end of his fist more times than he wanted to admit to. Instead, he chose to ignore the man and focus on sorting out the mess of the vehicle above him.
 
It hadn't been long since Valerie awoke from her slumber, and she was pretty groggy, to say the least. This morning she didn't even bother to push her arms through the sleeves of her royal blue coat; opting to simply let it hang over her shoulders like a cape as she yawned and stepped out into the corridor of the living quarters. There were a few other people standing around and talking, or stroking their weapons like they would a treasured pet. Well, just another day. The girl thought, half-asleep as she pushed her way through the hall and tried not to slouch or otherwise appear as tired as she actually was. As always she was fully clothed and had all of her necessary equipment on hand - never to be seen without her trusty rifle or rusty sickle. 'Prepared', as she liked to call it.

Albeit being a somewhat new arrival to their little faction, she had proved her mettle and talent with guns, even if she couldn't do much else. That was enough to make people see her as something of an equal. Off to get breakfast, she stopped when she heard the mention of one of her colleagues - Dickens. So it was that one. Running a hand through her dark hair, she let out a near soundless sigh and started walking up to the front door, the soles of her boots making soft tapping noises as she did so. Found a new vehicle, huh. He's barely got any skill with a weapon, much less a wrench. Wonder what sod is in there with him.

As soon as she made it outside she noticed how cold it was and involuntarily shivered, crossing her arms over her chest as her cloak billowed lightly behind her in the winter breeze. Valerie was never a fan of the cold - so whenever it was that time of the year, she preferred to do her work indoors. Nonetheless she wanted to check out the situation; and the warehouse was in clear view from the window of her own modest little dorm. From what she'd seen of Dickens - though it was not directed at her - he wasn't quite the pleasant type. Someone ought to keep tabs around here.

Entering in through the back door she looked around briefly. Their collection was by no means massive, but it was still impressive considering the times. She'd heard that, long ago, vehicles used to be commonplace in transportation across the country... But that was before her time. Now she was standing amongst a bunch of giant metal machines that she didn't even know how to work, listening to the sound of two people talking nearby. Of course.

Now, Valerie wasn't the type to swoop in and save the day - but this mechanic was doing a very important thing for them, and with him standing around like that acting all disrespectful... Well, that wasn't going to benefit anyone. So she made her way over to the two men, arms still crossed over her chest and back as straight as ever. "Hey, Dickens. I heard you were needed back in the quarters. Elaine wants to talk to you - probably something about scouting duties, you know, the usual." With a shrug of her shoulders she smiled in a carefree way; leaning against one of the vehicles across from the one the male was working on. "I'd go and check it out if I were you. Might be pretty important."

She was unable to see the boy, since he was underneath the car and working on it, but her eyes flickered over to him anyway as she waited for the brute of a male to leave. He was definitely stronger than her, too; so she wasn't going to try physically forcing him to leave the other person alone. Not to mention getting in a fight would be pointless and award nothing but negative results. No - deception and lies were more of her thing, anyway. And if she had to deal with him later, then so be it. She could hold her own.
 
Fatigue never bothered her that much anymore.

Returning from a three day foray into hostile gang territory and No Man's Land (NML), Abington fidgeted with a small journal she found in a decrepit store. It was a simple thing. Black leather with a worn perfect binding keeping the manilla, lined paper together. Flipping through the pages, she had details about everything she'd seen out there. From the devastated landscape to the pockets of humanity building sanctuary amongst the death and dying. In the past, she'd never care about such things. She'd be hunting instead of observing. The knights had changed her. Just barely.

Walking past a knight sentry, her sniper slung tightly across her shoulder. She fingered the tiny locket that rested underneath her cloak and fatigues. It turned into a lucky charm of sorts. She rubbed it three times before she went out and when she came back. There wasn't any logic to it. It just made her feel grounded knowing that out there somewhere, someone knew who she was before being taken by Gnat and his crew.

Hoisting her pack higher on her shoulders, she kept on walking past the others. She didn't know many of them. Didn't care that much to either. As long as the knight's could provide her with the means to survive, she was satisfied. That didn't stop her for doing some favors here and there. While she didn't care for people, having some on your side had its advantages.

"Our resident head hunter returns." Jax waved at her. He was a sentry that guarded Obsidian's borders. For some reason, he always tried to act chummy around her. "Just got back?"

"Yeah."

"Anything interesting?"

Interesting was subjective. What was interesting to her may not be so for him. "Saw a group out at NML. I was thinking about ... relieving them of their possessions."

Jax rose an eyebrow.

Abington smirked and walked on by.

She arrived at the vehicle hanger a few moments later. Looking around at the technicals the gang accumulated, it was all very impressive. Before she joined, walking was the main mode of transportation. It took longer, but it was sure to get you where you wanted. Vehicles broke down and made noise. Noise drew attention.

Looking about, she walked up to a mechanic. Young woman; she didn't know her name. "I'm looking for Trys."

Pulling her head out of the hood of a truck, the woman stared at her then pointed towards a car. "Hell if I know. Try it again Trys might still be workin' on that hunk of junk over there."

Nodding to the mechanic, Abington made her way over. She spotted another mechanic standing above someone working on the vehicle below. Valerie was there too. Yet another knight she knew by name. "Try it again. You down there?" Abington walked up to the vehicle's edge. She looked at the mechanic that Valerie was talking to. She caught the tail end of Valerie's comment. "Lots of gang movement out there. I'd get a move on."

Abington crossed her arms and looked at Dickens. She didn't know what the beef was this time, but she knew the man had it out for Trys. As far as she was concerned, she had no reason to get involved. Everyone fought their own battles. If they couldn't, then they'd just deal with someone on top. But she needed another stim hit soon and the salvage she brought back for Trys still tugged on her back.
 
Dickens frowned and looked at Valerie and then at Abs. All he did was frown, but nod. Then he smiled down at Trys, kicking his foot in what would normally come across as a playful nudge, but there was a subtle message there and Trys knew it. He wasn't stupid.

"Looks like two girls have come in to save the day for you, Fuck Up." He laughed. "I'll catch you later, got it?" With that, Dickens walked away.

Trys had pulled himself out again, having heard Abs voice and her reference to him as Try It Again. So he was either known as Fuck Up, or Try It Again. He rarely heard anyone call him Trys anymore. Not that it mattered. Well, it did when he tried to hit on females. He was eighteen and should have long settled down to reproduce, but who wanted to be with a fuck-up? No one was the answer.

"Hey, Abs. I'm here. What can I do for you?" He looked at the other person, Valerie. "Thanks as well. Anything I can do for you?" He wiped his hands on a dirty rag at his side before running one through his hair.
 
Growling menacingly with a seething scowl, Art stormed into the Vehicle hanger, slamming down a bottle of alcohol, distinctly using one arm to rummage around, while the other had two bloody bullet wounds and a few scrapes and scratches. He looking for cloth wrappings. He quickly grew frustrated, turning to Trys, Abs, and Valerie.
"Where are the cloth scraps or whatever you can use to wrap up a wound?"
He looked around before continuing,
"Don't even mention the infirmary to me. That damned place can rot in hell, all the itty bitty things, ooh we need to examine this, we gotta disinfect this,"
He suddenly cut himself off, roaring,
"They can go screw themselves with their scalpels! Alls I need is a screwdriver and a wrapping."
Finishing his rant, he continued muttering while waiting for an answer and looking through the hanger. It didn't quite matter to him who he swore at, though he usually had the level of restraint to prevent himself from doing it. The politics and little things bothered him to no end, after all, he only had a light tether to the Knights, choosing to remain outside of their matters unless it involved him in some way, usually in the form of a mission or escort. He swore he was more of an external observer than anything else, maybe an adviser, but that would stretch it quite a bit.
Sighing for a moment, calming himself down, he apologized,
"Sorry, I'm just a bit stressed right now.. I gotta get to somewhere soon."
 
At the sound of footsteps nearing the two of them, Valerie's head perked up and she switched her sights onto the sturdy looking woman slowly approaching. Oh, wait. That was... Abby? Abington. Yeah, she knew the person. Both of them were fairly new to the gang; and they both shared a preference for sniper rifles as a weapon of choice. The smile didn't vanish from her face though as she stretched her arms above her head and directed it towards the other woman, seemingly satisfied. So she picked up on my plan. Sly fox.

Mentally she chuckled as she watched Dickens's face fall from a smug grin to a disappointed frown. He kicked the other male's foot and delivered some sort of smart-ass comment, before taking his leave. Valerie snorted. What was this, a high school cafeteria? Playing the bully - this was supposed to be a team effort. Insufferable... She thought, straightening up and no longer leaning against the hood of the vehicle behind her.

Unlike Abington, she didn't recognize the kid in front of them. So his name was Try It Again? Well, that mustn't have been his actual name; but it looks like it was either Fuck Up or that. Lacing her fingers together, she cracked her knuckles and shrugged at his comment towards her. "Don't mention it. I just came down here to check things out. I'll let ya get back to your work. Later."

Putting her index and middle fingers up to her forehead, she sent Abington and Trys a sort of salute, heading towards the entrance where she came in. They must have had business together, and it wasn't her intention to get in-between that. At least they'd managed to get rid of the asshole, and it made the smirk on her face only grow wider as she walked past the vehicles to leave.

Out of nowhere, another Knight burst into the Vehicle Hangar, growling and snapping at the three of them angrily. Valerie flinched and took a quick step back to avoid his rampage; staring at him with an expression that could only be described as half-surprised and half-annoyed. What kind of... Eh? When he finished, she switched her gaze from his face to his injured arm, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She felt like she recognized the guy, but he probably wasn't someone who came around a lot. And now he was asking for something to patch himself up with. Well, more like demanding.

Despite her initial irritation, Valerie approached him when he'd calmed down and held her hands out in front of her, as if carefully approaching a beast. "Take it easy. You're not gonna find any cloth in here - at least, not anything sanitary." Digging her hand into one of her coat pockets, she took out a small roll of linen wrap and held it out to him cautiously. She wanted to avoid any more of his violent outbursts, if possible. "If you need a screwdriver, you could probably go ask Try It Again over there. See what he's got."

With her thumb, she pointed behind her to the man who was working underneath one of the cars. Except now he had pulled himself out into the open, and you could see the smudges of oil and grease on his face. Really, though, he should just go to the infirmary. Perhaps it was foolhardy of her to give up the last bit of linen she had; but Valerie was the motherly type, after all. She would help out another Knight wherever she could - she'd just have to scavenge for some more today, or buy it from a merchant.
 
Sighing out loud, Art scratched his head in embarrassment before apologizing again, whilst receiving the cloth,
"Sorry about that, I'm a bit under pressure today. I haven't really seen you two around though..."
His face and attitude, remained still quite neutral while his uninjured arm extended out for a hand shake,
"My name is Arthur, though I prefer to be called Art, I look forward to working with you, ...?"
While he introduced himself to Valerie and Abs, his injured arm picked up a screwdriver, albeit painfully.
 
Abington never for a second broke eye contact with Dickens. Lose the invisible war, lose the actual one. That's what one of the raiders told her. When in a gang, showing fear attracted getting your face beaten in or worse. He looked away soon enough; Abington watched the exchange between him and Trys before he left.

She bit down a laugh. The whole scouting deal was a hoax. What a sucker.

Taking her backpack off, Abington was about to speak until a anguished voice echoed throughout the hanger. She reached for her knife thinking Dickens had caught on to the charade. But it wasn't him. The new comer had obvious wounds. Two gun shots and various scrapes. He was looking for bandages and screw driver. Why the tap dancing Christ was he here and not at the infirmary?

Valerie seemed to calm him down ever so slightly though Abington wanted to conclude her business with Trys. But perhaps he could wait a few moments more. She looked at Arthur's - Art's - outstretched hand. She didn't like physical contact. It rubbed her the wrong way. Instead, she nodded to the wounded man. "Abs is fine. You should listen to the lady," she said. She scratched her chin. "Infections are a bad way to go. But, it's your choice."

Looking between both Valerie and Arthur, she turned back towards Trys and her backpack. She started rummaging in her little sack of gifts. "Alright Trys. I found some stuff for your DIY projects. I've been sneaking peeks here and there," she said. She started to take out various pieces of computer circuitry pilfered from stores that the war didn't get or had been raided. Several batteries and a CPU later, she pointed at them. "I'm not going to pretend I know what these things do cause I don't. Any of them useful?"

She glanced back at Arthur. "If you aren't going to the doc, get some alcohol and poor it on your wounds. It's better than nothing. Christ."
 
Valerie knew next to nothing about medical treatment, so she simply blinked as she stared at him. He seemed to be quite frantic to do whatever he needed to do, so she passively examined as he grabbed a screwdriver and held out his other hand to shake. It took her a few moments to register the whole thing, but she hesitantly reached out and put her hand in his, shaking lightly. "Hello Art, I'm Valerie, or Val. Enchanted."

Next to her, Abington seemed a tad less touchy-feely, and merely ignored the boy's inviting handshake. She pulled her hand back out of his and set it by her side, looking him up and down for a moment. Normal guy; she did wonder how his arm ended up in its current state, though. For a moment she watched him with the screwdriver, a bit of a disgusted look taking over her features as her eyebrows knitted together to show a bit of worry. "Yeah. You know, I ah... You're not thinking of digging the bullets out with that, are you? At least wash it first. They've been working on cars with those things. Spoiler alert: Probably not the best idea to stick a pointy, greasy piece of metal in an open wound." She shrugged her shoulders. " 'Course, I'm no doctor."

For a moment she glanced back at Trys and Abs, who were having their own little conversation now. A backpack with some random stuff in it. Yeah, Val was far from a mechanic or tinkerer. She knew how to shoot a gun and swipe things from under other people's noses; as well as generally make them believe her falsifications. Considering she couldn't even start a car - much less drive it - she would leave those things up to those more suited. Good thing the Obsidian Knights had them.

Once again she turned her attention back to Art and at his fucked up arm. "If you don't want to go to the infirmary, do you at least want me to treat this for you myself? I'm no expert, but I think it'll be a little easier for me to wrap your arm up than for you to do it yourself. Then you can get to wherever you need to go." Examining his arm a little closer, she wondered on what would be the safest way to get those bullets out. Just her fingers? They were clean enough, but, that would likely be unnecessarily painful. Hmm...
 
Chuckling for a moment, he picked up the alcohol bottle he had brought in earlier with a bitter smile, shaking it slightly, obviously hesitant but also in a rush.

"Nice to meet you, Val and Abs, I do plan to do just that, but I'll be fine, thanks. See you guys around."

He waved at them before picking up the supplies and he heading towards a secluded area of the base to treat himself. He quietly shuddered to himself as he left. Nothing beats alcohol straight on the wound and a screwdriver. But that could wait. There were more important matters to attend to, always.
 
There always seemed to be some kind of chaos. And today was no different. First Dickens and now Art had entered the hangar. Valerie went off to deal with Art, and it was then that he realised Art had been shot. Maybe it was best to send him to Jacob...

"Yeah, better not use the screwdriver, or if you do at least disinfect it and put it over a naked flame. It would be better though to dig it out with a blade or knife from a kitchen though, if you ask me."

Trys had read up on these things. He read up on a lot of things. So he messed up on a lot more, but people did seem to underestimate him too. He was intelligent in different things, even if he was shit at combat, and he swore that Jacob deliberately gave him jobs that he was set up to fail.

When Abs started digging in her bag and pulled out what she did, he grinned. "It's all good. Thanks. I do need to ask a favour though, being as Jacob won't let me out the East since that car got stolen; can you listen out for any talks of journals in No Man's Land. Specifically medical ones that people may have. If you hear about any, can you try and nab them for me? There is only limited resources here. Of course, if it's not too dangerous, that is."

He knew he could be asking for a lot, and that there could be a price for it, but it was worth a shot.
 
Keeping Valerie and Arthur in her peripherals, she kept looking at the tech she brought back. Why did she risk her neck for these things? Getting the parts wasn't a simple break in and steal. Survivors holed up at the store she hit. She didn't have anything to trade. She simply took what she thought useful. Was it for the gang that served as her temporary home? Potentially.

Raising an eyebrow, it wasn't usual for Trys to ask her favors. It wasn't usual for anyone to ask her favors. Then again, so was bringing back technology. "Shoot."

Medical journals? That was pretty vague. Abington didn't know anything medical related except good ole' alcohol on the wounds or cauterizing to stop someone from dying from the rot. She never had the chance to exposed to anything other than killing, weapons, even more killing, and a healthy dose of intimidation.

Looking towards Arthur as he excused himself, she nodded at him then returned to her conversation.

She scratched her cheek. "Do ... these journals say 'medical' on them?" she asked tentatively. "Tech's easier. I look for stuff like that," she pointed at a computer part, "but journals are harder. Make sense? But journals in general? I think I could manage that."
 
Watching Art leave so abruptly, Valerie blinked twice as she stared out the door that he had just exited. She stood there for a few moments, the blankest of blank expressions dominating her features. Is this kid... Stupid? She wondered mentally, a bit in disbelief. First he refuses going to the infirmary, and then he suddenly rushes out the room while bleeding heavily from his arm. Aye, aye, aye... She thought, rolling her eyes a bit and scratching the back of her neck. Well, she should probably take her leave then.

Bits of the conversation between Abs and Trys caught her attention though, and she turned her head towards them as they talked. From what she'd heard, apparently Abington brought some stuff back for Try It Again to tinker with, and he had another favor to ask. How nice. I took her for more of the independent type, but she seems rather helpful. With a small smile, she headed towards them and away from where she was just talking to Art only seconds ago.

"Medical journals, eh? Well, I'd be glad to help out with that." As she said this she examined some dirt under her nails with a mostly passive expression; idly thinking of how she should clean them later on. Turning her gaze to Abs, the smile seemed to remain on her face. "If you're thinking about going out to look for them, I could always tag along. I've got some experience in No Man's, and we could cover more ground that way. Up to you, though." She added the last part casually, finally slipping her arms through the sleeves of her coat and adjusting them.

Although she wouldn't admit it, Val wanted some company. It had been lonely around here, and ever since she lost Enrique and the baby... Well, it'd be nice to go out with someone and help do something for another person. Setting her sights on Trys, she nodded in agreement. "It would be helpful to know the details of what they look like, and maybe where you think they would most likely be found?"
 
"Well... any journals... I like to read." Shit, now he looked suspicious. He was just a mechanic... looking for specific journals could be seen as suspicious, especially as he was a fuck up and currently wasn't allowed outside of East's walls. Jacob had made it pretty clear that if he stepped so much as a foot outside of the perimeter he'd be shot on sight.

If he'd had some balls he may of had the courage to sneak out.

"I don't know where any are, or what they say on them, so just if you seen any when scavenging would be good, thanks." He added.

With Val joining the conversation Trys nodded, knowing four eyes and four hands were better than two. He needed all the help he could get. Hopefully the more people he out there, the better. Especially as he wasn't allowed out. But maybe he should take the chance to leave. Six eyes... six hands...

"Have you seen Jacob around? Is it easy for me to leave here unnoticed?" He asked.
 
Abington rose an eyebrow at Trys' comment. "Any journals now?"

Right then, Valerie joined the two. Abington listened as she offered to help with the medical journal hunt. If it was a hunt for medical journals now. Trys was being ambiguous. Abington didn't like ambiguity. Either you did something or didn't. In this case, either Trys wanted her to look specifically for medical journals or just bring back whatever she could find. People sucked sometimes. She felt the violence bubble in her. She kept it restrained. She needed a stim.

She sighed and ruffled her hair. "If I come across anything, I'll snag it. Who knows? Maybe I'll loot a medical journal off my next deader. You never know what a corpse has until you look."

Looking at Valerie, she sized the woman up. She hadn't been a part of the Obsidian Knights long, but she heard rumors about the woman. Nothing bad. Simply about her past. Abington sucked at the mushy, consolidating stuff. It was safer to say not a word about it at all. "Are you quiet? I don't like heavy footers."

Now why did she have to go on and say that now? Lone wolfing the world was how she survived so far. She didn't need another pair of eyes to buddy-buddy No Man's Land with. It was simple. she chose the darkest corners of whatever piss pot she found herself in and waited. When prey fell within her gaze, the intricate hunt would begin. If it was a group, she'd whittle them down little by little. Use the environment to her advantage like Gnat taught her. When there was several left, she'd make it up close and personal. If you took a life, take it face on instead of cowardice.

Trys' last comment made Abington's eyebrow rise ever higher. She had nothing to say; she simply stared at him.
 
As soon as Trys had started talking, Valerie already felt suspicious. That was the thing about her, she seemed nice and trusting, but in reality that was all just to hide the somber and cautious way she felt about others. It was something she had to work on, sure. Couldn't deny it had saved her skin a few times, but... This was just a mechanic asking for medical journals- or, any journals. As skeptical as she was of that, there really wasn't much she had to say about it. Could have been for any simple reason, like an ambitious mechanic wanting to become a writer... Okay, that sounded dumb in her head, too.

Right away she'd noticed that Abington was just as suspicious. Val almost wanted her to say something about it, since she herself wasn't going to. But instead she just agreed to it, and she listened quietly with a nod. Well, alright. If this tinkerer wants journals, might as well get him journals. It didn't go unnoticed to her, though, how nervous he sounded. As if he was hiding something...

Feeling as if someone was staring at her, she turned her head to see Abington looking her up and down. She was almost tempted to say, 'like what you see?', but decided against it. Clearly it wasn't for that reason; as the woman was practically glaring at her. That was alright. She was used to other people having negative attitudes. Over her life she'd met a ton of different types of people, so really she'd seen just about everything in that department. Then she asked her question, and she raised her eyebrows slightly. "Am I quiet? That happens to be my expertise." The girl chuckled lightheartedly, pushing some hair back that had fallen over her shoulder. Sneaking in the shadows and killing unseen; that was what she could do.

Once Trys had asked his next question, Valerie grew even more curious. Jacob, their leader. So far she hadn't really paid much mind to him. Only if he had an order to give did she ever actually talk to him. Truthfully, she didn't care who led the Obsidian Knights as long as they were led, and led well. Does it matter who gives the orders, when they're orders all the same? But, she digressed. Abington didn't speak up so instead she glanced at the man and shrugged. "Hell if I know. I'm guessing that he's probably in his office, or something like that. Do with that information what you will."
 
Okay, he really needed to know when to keep quiet. They both now looked suspiciously at him. If they told Jacob. Shit. Either way he was going to be in some sort of trouble. He sighed and stood up, wiping the grease of his hand from under the buggy he was trying to fix. He was going to have to look at the manuals they had, to see if there was a way to resolve what he thought might be the problem.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning on leaving. It's too dangerous." He sighed.

He would have to hope that when they were out scouting, that they would come across some of the stuff he was looking for. He had to be careful, because already he'd created suspicions. Oh well. Too late now. Damage was done.

"As for the journals. Just any papers or anything you might find on your travels when you're out there. It's not urgent or anything, it's just for my interest." Picking up a few papers from his workspace next to them, he focused on trying to find the answer to his vehicle problem. Or at least try to figure out the answer with the information he had.
 
Abington bit the inside of her lip.

No reason to spill the beans and let Jacob know about Trys' request. Though forbidding the very unlucky mechanic to leave the base was a good thing, she knew how much it sucked to feel like a captive in one place. At the same time, the events that followed Trys' when he toyed with things outside of mechanics added a certain amount of danger to them all.

She sighed. "You stay put; I'll look. It'll keep Jacob from putting a bullet in you," she said. She nodded at Valerie. "We, if you decide to tag along."

Feeling a pocket underneath her cloak, her hand found the reassuring cylinder of a stim. "I'm heading towards the armory. Check in. Maybe I'll see you over there."

Turning towards the door, she quickly made her way out with practiced silent footsteps.
 
Watching Abington turn and leave, Valerie nodded subtly and gave her a short wave. "Have a good one. Tell me when you wanna go out." She called after her, pulling her cloak further around her shoulders. Now it was her and the mechanic, left in the Vehicle Hangar with all the other mechanics. Which wasn't much, really. Running a hand through her dark hair, the girl let out a breath of air and turned towards Trys once again. "Alright, it would probably be best if I get out of your hair. You can get back to working on this car. And if Dickens comes back, you know who to call, eh?" Shooting him a hearty wink, Val spun around and made her way for the door a second time this morning. Except -- she only got about two steps in before it burst open. And it wasn't Abs this time.

Two boys, both looking to be around 12-14, appeared in the frame. The door had swung open and hit the wall next to it with such force that a booming metallic noise was heard; causing every person currently in the room to look up with bewildered expressions. Valerie stopped moving and stared, her eyebrows furrowed with confusion as the teenagers fought to get inside, trying to push past each other like wild animals. "An attack! Attack!" One of them yelled, while the other piped up: "In the Command Center!"

Valerie paused, her right hand sneaking back to rest on her sniper rifle subconsciously. "Calm down. Who's getting attacked in the CC? By who?"

"It's Jacob!" The one with red hair shouted, finally out of the door and inside with his partner. "W-We don't know who, but we heard him screaming for help! One of the older Knights told us to come here and get backup!" Shooting them both a disbelieving look, Val sucked her lip in between her teeth and bit on it as she thought, still remaining mostly still. Who would be attacking Jacob? Now? It couldn't have been someone from another gang - they wouldn't have gotten past the guards... An inside job. Someone stepping up to take down their leader, from their side. But who?

Torn from her thoughts, the other one approached her and grabbed her sleeve. "Please, you have to come! You have to help!" Brushing him off, the girl merely sent him a lax smile and put her arms behind her head; clearly not taking this as seriously as she should.
"Alright, alright, don't get so worked up there, choo-choo train. I'll take a look around. You newbies had better stay out of this. Wait until I come back."

At the moment, Val was really the only one in there who was a soldier and not a mechanic. "The rest of you, stay in here and keep working, okay? The problem will be handled shortly, I promise." With a carefree tone, she grabbed Trys' arm and pulled him after her. "Except for you, Try-It-Again; you're coming with me. For backup." Taking quick footsteps, she tugged on the man's arm and closed the door behind her as she left. "Oh, and if anyone comes in here, you two boys protect our mechanics, alright? Be back soon~" With that last bit she left the room, leaving the kids to stare at each other with wide eyes.

"Put on your party hat, mechanic. We're having a big jamboree."
Her insouciant air all but having completely disappeared, the Knight pulled her rifle out with one hand and gripped onto his wrist with the other. They were headed for the Command Center, and already she could hear the commotion. She quickened her pace, a grave look overtaking her features.
 
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