Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Westeria City: Rheinsdale

as written by Ottoman

Having stepped inside the house he took a moment to look the scene over - a middle-class home, more posh than his own, with hints of life that did little to quiet the man's mind - as Lalita entered the house behind him, the aloof corporal following her lead once she showed him just where the kitchen was. It was kind enough to be treated in such a fashion after he wrecked his own vehicle on the staff-car of an officer, though he felt already that this winged woman was not part of Stright's command but a bystander of sorts. Though he didn't think any less of her for it, he could see that she lacked the same bearing of the others, even the other woman who had come from the house, so casually dressed.

Nervous eyes glanced about the kitchen, from the fridge to the coffee-maker to the dining room nearby and back to something else, Marcus unable to find anything to hold his attention for very long. His mind, his worries, lingered on the house across the street, and even the smell of coffee - good coffee at that, not the paint-stripper one got in D-Fac - couldn't sway him from such concern.

"You, uh... didn't have to do this." He managed, unsure quite what it was he wanted to say, eager to be back outside and across the street where he belonged. "Thank you."
 
as written by Krysis

"I'm having fun, actually. Better than sitting at home. Have you been working with this bunch long? I'm not even sure how many there are in the group, or what it is called or anything." Lali smiled at Marcus hopefully, insatiably curious and making the wrong assumption. It didn't occur to her that the two cars hadn't been traveling together before the accident.

"So, you're welcome. There is sugar, but no cream, sorry." She said as she scanned cupboards, dripping all over the kitchen but not seeming to mind. The fine lace of scattered scales on the right side of her face caught the light every time she moved, with her hair slicked back in a wet black rope that hung between equally soggy rust colored feathers.

The little black box rested innocently on the counter, always within easy reach of the strange girl.
 
as written by glmstr

"I can smell it from here, there's no god damn way he can see what's in there. If he sees them at all, I think you should torch the bodies until they're just skeletons. It's a little easier to see than flesh and blood," Erika hung her head, guilt flashing across her face from knowing that by experience.

____

Nine years prior
I could feel the buildup of snow on the street through my boots. I an officer, I had led troops dozens of times. This was supposed to be a routine mission. An anonymous source told us there were Loyalist troops fortifying a suburban community just outside the city, that they were preparing an assault. We weren't going to let them.

Five rebel commandos and I were dropped near the neighborhood, we were told to gut the forces and burn their armory. One of them was given a small flamethrower to do the trick.

We hit the dirt and crept into the 'town', using trench shovels to dig channels underneath backyard fences to stay off the street. I climbed into a local water tower and kept overwatch with a sniper rifle, to make sure nothing went south. I was confident in their abilities, they were fierce and vicious to our enemies.

They kept constant radio contact with me, I insisted upon this. I could hear every shot from their silenced weapons, every "Tango down", every "Breach and clear". They went through a couple dozen houses. No issues, no fire ever returned against them, only the occasional shout which was cut short by several subsequent shots.

It was going too smoothly. Nobody was getting hit, nobody was firing back. Something wasn't right.

"Officer Horakova, we have found the munitions depot. Will torch on your mark," the radio crackled as one of the soldiers spoke over it.
"Copy that, I'll check the houses and make sure you didn't miss anything. Do not proceed until I am there," I climbed down the water tower and stepped into the first house.

There were a few soldiers, each of them with bullet holes in their chest and neck. Simple enough.

I checked the next house. There were two dead bodies on a couch, and the TV was on. I stepped in front of them, they were two civilians, barely younger than I, the man's neck was snapped and the woman's throat was slit. They were watching a movie, and my troops fucking killed them.

I looked inside the next house, and the next, and the next, they were all civillians. Teenagers, the elderly, goddamn children. Dead. All of them.

Every house was the same story: One house of soldiers, four to six houses of non-combatants. My men just slaughtered innocent Hykan people.
The final house was an exception.
There was one person alive in it.

I approached carefully, because I could hear noise from outside. It was somebody crying. A female's voice. I silently peered in through a window, to see a girl, no older than 13, clutching a Loyalist soldier's body. He had several bullet holes in his chest, and had clearly bled out by the time I arrived.
"Daddy, wake up,"
"Please Daddy, you said that you'd never leave me!"
"Mommy told you to take care of me, remember?"

I signed up to protect the people from oppression. I thought this was supposed to be a change for the better.

Apparently the leaders of this damned Revolt had different plans.

I must have cried for nearly half an hour. Everything we stood for, everything we strove to be, was all a big fucking joke now.
I finally met up with my 'squad' in front of an abandoned hospital. They were telling me there were weapons inside, that there must be enemies of the Hykan people inside. I gripped the revolver holstered at my hip, and slowly began to draw it.

Why did they murder all of these people? Did they really think they were doing what was right?
"Officer Horakova, what are you doing?"
I pointed the revolver at the one who spoke, without a word, training the sights on his forehead.

I pulled the trigger.

The next four were too shocked to react, I gunned them down too. Before me lay five sorry excuses for troops that I called "comrades", each one now missing the top half of their head.

I took the flamethrower, piled their bodies, and torched them. I burned the entire town, aside from the hospital, and the little girl's home. I didn't want any evidence of what really happened here. Nobody should have to see this, nor should this ever be happening.

"This is Officer Horakova to base, the intel was bad. Mission was a failure," I threw my radio to the ground, shattering it into pieces.

My official report claimed that there were mostly civilians, and that snipers took out my team from outside the town.

The Revolt is trying to use me as propaganda, hail me as a hero to the people.

Some fucking hero I am.
 
as written by Azrican

Riley and Hawke stood out on the patchy lawn as Charles finally exited the home, one hand shoving a piece of broken stone out of the way as the other cradled a bundle of comforters. The automaton's heavy footsteps made hollow sounds against the charred, warped porch Charles strode down onto the lawn. Despite the metallic exterior, Riley knew the tangible aura of sorrow as the ABE came to a stop in front of the three humans.

"How many else in there, Charles?" Riley asked calmly, pulling the AR-93 over his back and peering up at the blistered walls. The ABE seemed to shake it's head for a moment, automated fingers reaching up to the blanket and revealing the limp, badly burned figure within.

"Five, possibly six -- due to dust interference." He replied in a clean, tonal voice. Riley covered the small corpse back up with the comforter before turning to Hawke, and pointing to the home.

"We've gotta' get the rest of them out before the Corporal can see them. Horakova, make sure that Terran doesn't step out of that house until we're done."
 
as written by Ottoman

Fun. This seemed like quite a strange place to be having any of that - the entire city, much less this neighborhood, was torn between being a warzone and Terra's first experiment in modern anarchy - though he wouldn't begrudge her that. If she was enjoying herself, or even could enjoy herself here, then he didn't want to marr that. Joy was in rather short supply here. Absently he regarded her as she spoke, though his eyes wandered away from her to the black box for a moment, not overly concerned with it before Lali caught his attention with a turn of phrase. Working with this bunch? What did she mean by this bunch? The TAF? Or these people here? Were these folks some sort of special operations group? Marcus considered what this meant, but figured that it was probably for the best if he simply played along for now, not wanting to upset whatever it was that was going on here. The man simply wanted to check for his family and move on, if he could.

"Ah... no. Not too long." He managed a weak smile, forced onto his face despite the worry that blossomed inside of him. Were it any other time, any other place, the Terran would've likely moved to lean against the counter, to rest his legs after so much time spent out and about, but for now he simply stood, his foot tapping away at the floor as he struggled not to bite his lip. By and large he paid the woman's features little heed - it wasn't to say that she wasn't attractive, but simply that he'd seen far stranger things on Valore - and instead listened anxiously to the sputtering of the coffee maker, eager for it to be finished that he might drain his mug and be back outside. "It's fine. I've dealt with far worse with my coffee before." Another waning smile was paid to this odd woman.

Whether Stright ordered him not to, even saw him court-martialed for insubordination, he would go into that house.
 
as written by Krysis

"Why don't you have a seat? I think we might be waiting for a bit." Lali invited, pulling a chair out from the table after she found the mugs and set a few near the hopeful sounding pot. The sugar packets were in a dish nearby and she figured he could mostly take it from there when the pot was finished.

"How about I pop out there and see what they are up to, huh?" Not that Lalita was going to wait around for an answer. Something about his bearing and the way he spoke had finally signaled to her that This was a native Valoran, and likely even a Terran from the accent, and she very nearly made a serious goof.

Slightly panicked, she would hurry back towards the front door, only glancing back once to be sure their guest hadn't followed her before slipping outside and waving at Erika, hopefully as the other female was approaching.
 
as written by Azrican

As the last remains were brought out to six smoke-clogged blankets on the lawn, Riley was unable to stop the fit of hacking that came over him as he left the choked interior of the home. He wiped away at soot and ash covering his fatigues, following Charles down the steps until the three men were standing silently in front of what was once a family. The agent's eyes meandered up, to the bright waning sky above in the childish hope he might see the New Atraliah somewhere.

"Well I think I've fulfilled my quota of pulling dead women and children out of a hole for this mission ... when's our next leave?" Hawke interjected heartlessly, patting his hands together until he fumbled for a pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket. Riley gave a black look to the SFC, looking back at the bundles of linen and polyester in front of them that had odd, eerie, human shapes.

"Go tell the Corporal he can see his family now."
 
as written by glmstr

Erika shuddered, frozen in place as the scene before her reminded her too much of that mission. The charred corpses, the-
"Go tell the Corporal he can see his family now."
The Hykan was jolted back into reality, shuddering and giving a quick nod.
"Yes sir."

She slowly made her way to where Lalita was keeping the new person occupied. The grass in the lawn, dried and abandoned, crunched under her feet. She could feel it crushing into dust under her heels, breaking the unnerving silence in the scene before her.

"Corporal," she cleared her throat, "You may see your family now," she gestured across the street towards where the other members of her squad were standing.
 
as written by Ottoman

With a nod Marcus let the strange woman by him, remaining where he was leaning against the counter, eyes settling firmly on the coffee pot as it filled with its brew. He would follow her, once he kept his word - one cup. As time passed his breath steadied, some part of him playing through the fantasy in his mind that his family wasn't there, or if they were they'd been in the basement, where they could have been afforded some degree of protection from a blast like the place suffered. Perhaps they had just been trapped - it hadn't been that long, surely they could survive that time, his parents prepared for this sort of thing. Lethargically he rose from where he rested, crossing the kitchen quickly enough as he pulled the pot from the maker, the carafe's top loosing a drop or two to fall and sizzle on the plate below as he poured himself a cup. Should he pour any for the others? Were they even interested in it, or was this simply kindness on their part to him?

For a moment or two he held the carafe aloft, mentally debating whether he should before he slid it back into place, figuring that if the others wanted any, they would pursue it of their own accord. Paying the sugar and sweetener no mind, the Terran lifted the fresh, steaming mug to his lips, taking a sip of the stuff to test it first. It was, simply put, the best coffee he'd had in months, though its competition wasn't much to look at in that running. Once he knew what to expect, in flavor and temperature, the corporal took a proper swig of the stuff, likely needing it after sleeping in the car the past two nights. The drink was a welcome relief, though not a welcome distraction from keeping him from what he felt was his paternal duty. With a humorless snort he considered that thought - duty. He'd already betrayed whatever oaths he had taken to the TNG by abandoning his post, though the Commander didn't need to know that. Marcus wondered how the tribunal would go when he was finally caught, though he imagined that the worst he would suffer would be a dishonorable discharge, and were it that his family were safe, well...

He could always just find a new job.

"Corporal, you may see your family now."

The words, the tone of her voice, caused Sheffield's hair to stand on his neck, feeling how cold her voice was just from the sound. Where was the nonchalance, the irritation of being sent on such an errand as this? It planted a sense of foreboding in the man that was not likely to leave, and with a slight tremble in his hand he set the mug on the counter, still partway full. His back turned to Erika, Marcus took a moment to look over the mugs, the pot and the sugar, steeling himself before he looked away from it and glanced to the messenger. It was the women, as he suspected, who wore civilian clothes but moved with a martial bearing. With a moment or two to linger, looking at her as he did, he spoke quietly, forcing himself to move. "Thank you." The footfalls of his boots were either amplified or muted, between the hardwood and the carpet, until he came to the door which remained open, his eyes avoiding what lay across the street for as long as he might. Six bodies, all covered.

Even without moving to see them he knew the truth.

Silently, stoically, he moved down and across the lawn, not bothering to glance up or down the street as he crossed it - there was no traffic, and if there was, it would've been a welcome release. It wasn't until he neared the blankets themselves that he began to see the various sizes, the difference in length and shape of each of the covered forms, and already he felt that he could not put the pit inside of him into thoughts. Carefully he counted each of the bodies, checking off a mental list though he already knew the answer. Cassandra's family had already evacuated, the sixth had to be Haley - there was no where else for her to go.

"Who bombs a suburb..."
 
as written by Krysis

Lalita had been ready to berate Erika about the lack of letting her know that this stranger was not one of their crew when she saw the bodies placed so neatly on the blasted lawn. That sight struck her dumb, at least for a moment, and she merely stepped aside to let people pass without really seeing them.

Eventually she shook herself aware again and muttered, "I thought they had all evacuated before... before."

Again, slow on the up-take, it wasn't until she saw how Marcus reacted to the silent family that it dawned on her that he was desperately seeking his loved ones and the events that naturally followed. She'd touch his shoulder gently, wanting to reach out and sooth his pain, though she knew it was impossible. Disaster would not be comforted by mere human contact. Revenge might do the trick though, so she answered him; "The thrice-cursed Aschen Empire."
 
as written by Azrican

Several hours later Riley and Charles had retired to a corner of the ground floor of the house with the entanglement array, utilizing the entertainment room’s sunken features to accommodate the large, olive drab object that appeared more akin to a mini-fridge than a piece of combat equipment. After the SFC had spent his time tuning the precisely calibrated mechanisms and relays of the entangler, Charles and Riley had closed the ornate glass division keepin the game room from the rest of the first floor. Hawke, despite his position as OCS of the operation’s team, was not privy to the sort of classified material the automaton and Riley would be delivering.

Over a beer, or mineral water in the case of Charles, Riley stood in front of a holographic prompt a few meters from the array. In front of him scrolled news clippings and online articles, by the dozens, and from all sorts of media. Newspaper columns were juxtaposed with live broadcasts, the day-to-day events and tumultuous reality of a world Riley hadn’t even known existed three days prior.

He took a sip of the hoppy brew, lips pressing against teeth as he let out a refreshed sigh and continuing to stare at the fountain of imagery and words in front of him. “Two civilizations at each other’s throats thousands of lightyears beyond the Garden.”

Charles’ features seemed to perk for a moment, his synthetic eyes reading through the prompt in a few nanoseconds before he replied. “Mankind has a notorious habit for aggression.” Riley slid one hand into the pocket of his fatigues as he took another few gulps.

“And simple mistakes.” He replied in a single, hard tone as the burning skyline of a city that Riley now knew to be Westeria flickered in front of him. “What d’you think about all this so far? What we might say to the FM?”

“I believe the Exogarden forces’ situation is becoming more and more complicated, from a strategic edge.” Charles replied, lowering the glass to a small coffee table and putting his hands together. “The first inhabited planet and civilizations discovered beyond the Veil appear to be in a war.”

“A difficult strategic position indeed.” Riley said, swirling the bottle with his fingers as he pushed at a cyanotype button that floated. The icons and photographs that pulsed and swirled dissipated as the ISAAC standard burst from the entangler’s projector, lines of code and the booting bar inched to the left like a tiny digital caterpillar before a syncopated message was heard from the entangler. “Sounds like a typical day at the job, Charles. Let’s get ahold of the Field Marshal … “
 
as written by glmstr

Erika wandered up the stairs, carrying a chilled glass bottle with an ornate label on it. The contents inside were dark brown at the thickest parts of the bottle, lightening to a bronze tone at the top. She placed the drink on the kitchen counter and fished out three small glasses from a nearby cupboard.

First Sergeant Horakova spotted Riley and Charles huddled by the entangler, and seemed to be receiving a transmission. She brought in a small nightstand she borrowed from what used to be a kids room, and plopped the chilled bottle and the three glasses on it.

"Care for a drink? I brought along some expensive Hykan whiskey, it's served best chilled so I had to wait while it cooled down."
 
as written by Ottoman

Sheffield had retreated to the basement after burying his family, intent on remaining silent in the wake of that grueling task. So the Terran sat on the floor, his back flush against the couch's side as he stared at the wall ahead of him, the smell of death and dirt still clinging to the fatigues he wore, his hands caked with the earth of his childhood home. Tightly did he bring his knees up to his breast, arms loosely looped about his legs, a minor concern as his mind drifted aimlessly. For the longest time he could do nothing but remember them, the memories of the life that he had built with his family, hearing their voices with each thrust of his spade into the sod. Despite such things tormenting his mind, it had been a largely silent affair, just as his self-imposed exile was now.

He'd made each of them a cross from the house, even little Farah. Sheffield figured that his parents wouldn't mind, if anything it was a romantic sort of notion, to have one's grave marked with the wood of one's own home. That, perhaps, was the most difficult part of all - carving their names into each of those damned crosses, he couldn't help but feel like he was sealing their fates. What good did it do, to mark them? It made no difference, they were all dead, for each could be any of the others and it would still leave him in the depths of misery; but to get each of them right, to know which was which, mattered to him. All the years of thinking of when his parents would die - for they would, all parents pass in time - and how he would deal with the sorrow that came with burying them seemed to have evaporated, replaced by this echoing chasm within him. Marcus had always knew he would be the one to bury his parents, but to put his sister in the earth, and his Monika, nevermind the children...

No parent should have to bury their child.

It was with good reason that Sheffield had placed his sidearm on the kitchen counter, far away from where he would stay the night here in the basement. He didn't trust himself with it, at least not yet. The man was still in shock, and already he wondered when the stunning effect of finding one's family dead in their home would wear off. At the very least Stright's command and the winged-woman had been kind enough to give him space while he saw to their last rites, or at least the best that he could give to them. He figured that the basement was the best place to stay out of their way while they saw to their business, whatever it was - the Terran had no inkling of their nature as agents of the Coalition. The last thing that they needed was him in their midst, or so he figured, as his mental and emotional state gradually deteriorated.

So he continued to stare, tracing out various patterns - both real and imagined - on the wall with his eyes, trying to find some solace from the day's events there. There wasn't a memory, a hobby or daydream that he could turn to, like he so often did before, to keep his mind from what troubled it. This was inescapable, incomparable, and the man had no idea what it was that he would, or even could, do to move on with his life - save, at least, one thing.

He'd watched the news, the same as anyone else on the planet when it had happened, the day that the Aschen finally descended upon them, attempted to put the Valorans as a whole to the sword. Marcus remembered how they had stopped them, the price that they had to pay to maintain the sovereignty of their homeworld, and the devastation that had laid in the wake of such valor. Already his mind turned over that brief war, looking at it from every angle he knew, looking for some reason, some justification on the Aschen's part for what he witnessed here. Again he asked, in the depths of his mind, that simple question he had let slip in the yard - who bombed a suburb? As Marcus tried, desperately, to find some reason, some order to his loss, he couldn't help the welling anger that bloomed inside of him, the hatred he felt for that name, that concept - Aschen.
 
as written by Krysis

Lalita had been more than willing to help out, though she understood that Sheffield wanted to bury his family alone and would not interfere after finding tools for him.

That meant she had plenty of time to help the others. She proved to be exceptionally strong and easily able to carry things about that might be heavy or awkward for humans. Though the supplies are limited, she's also a fair cook. Especially since the previous family had left behind the spices and some few canned goods so they didn't end up with just beans for dinner.

It wasn't until after it was dark and the meal was ready to go on the table that she thought to go looking for Marcus.

"Don't get too drunk and forget to eat something." She reminded Erika, walking past on her way to check outside. Finding no Marcus there, she'd have to search the whole house before thinking to check the basement and find the grieving soldier there.

She'd watch him for a moment, then sighed, and ordered briskly, "On your feet, Sheffield. Get yourself a shower and then report to the kitchen for dinner."

Either he'd obey her, which was a scary thought, or he'd get pissed, which was better than staring at nothing, or he would ignore her which would require someone that he respected to get him off the floor instead.
 
as written by Azrican

Riley stood in front of the entangler holding a beer by the lip, idly standing opposite a vividly defined hologram of an officer: quite a high ranking one, from the emblem stenciled on his shoulder and the ornate features of his uniform. Field Marshal Kaspar Alexander, known throughout as the Father of the Exogarden to his marines and sailors, shifted his attention between an infofeed and the Cobalt agent in front of him. As Erika entered, she would hear the Field Marshal and Riley debating, the agent’s words appearing to be weighed with quite a conviction.

“I don’t see where one planet is my concern, agent -- your mission was to investigate the planet and determine if the Initiative have had access to the planet.” Kaspar said, dead pan from his desk sprawling out in front of the camera. “From what I can tell by your report there is no activity, I consider this ‘Valore’ a pretty clear and clean operation.”

“Yes Field Marshal, but you’ve seen the state of the planet; this ‘Aschen Empire’ seems to be hell-bent on the complete annihi -- “ Riley was stopped as the Field Marshal raised one hand, shaking his head.

“I understand the civilization is under threat but that is not our concern, agent. They must survive this storm on their own.” Kaspar said, Riley’s features hardening at the impassive image that was returned to him by the Field Marshal. “This planet is already getting a battalion, agent -- and that’s more than I wanted to spare for even an exploratory mission.”

“Yessir.” Was all the agent could respond with as he stood in defeat, hands at either side of him and looking dishevelled to the ground.

“This isn’t the Garden, we don’t fly in and save civilizations just because they’re stuck in the mud. Outside of the Veil, we have to build our own worlds … this rule applies to these terrans as well. You have your orders, agent.”
 
as written by glmstr

Erika waited until the transmission ended, when it was safe to comment behind the back of their superiors.
"These Aschen seem to be bullying and committing terrorist acts against the Terrans, I think we should at least do something about it. If anybody asks questions, we can just say that we let the situation resolve itself. Besides, isn't this sort of cloak-and-dagger disruption what the Apparatus does already?"
The Hykan poured a sip of the whiskey into a glass and drank it. The lack of alcohol over the last several days made the potent brew burn her throat even more than normal, a refreshing change of pace from filtered or tap water.
 
as written by Ottoman

Marcus had found himself so consumed in thought, in the pointless analysis of the wall that sat opposite of him, that he hadn't heard the woman come down the stairs, or even open the door. Were it that his legs were further from him, one could see the rise and fall in his chest, far more accentuated the longer he thought, the more time he let the hatred he had discovered fester inside of him. Indeed, it was almost a shock to hear Lalita speak, stirring him as if he was dozing off, blinking in surprise in the wake of her words. Feet, shower, dinner. The thoughts, the words, came haphazardly to his mind, having some initial trouble shifting from the emotional to the logical, his eyes dropping to the floor for but a moment as he figured that it was for the best if he ate something. It had been hours, at the least, since he'd last seen food.

Slowly he rose to his feet, looking to the winged figure who had come to inform him of supper and such, taking a moment to pay her that small respect before his eyes left, returning to the floor. What was she, some sort of angel? It was almost some sort of cosmic joke, or so Sheffield thought, that an angel be here, speaking to him, in the wake of this misery. But the man made no move to voice such thoughts, instead replying quietly, his voice without drive or depth. "Thank you." Once he'd finished murmuring that small phrase he meandered out of the basement, glancing to the Coalite agents that sat together in the living room before seeking out the shower proper, that once-luxurious facet of civilian life doing little to improve the Terran's mood, though it certainly did wonders for his odor.

Dressed in the same fatigues as before Marcus returned to the kitchen, doing his best to focus on the here and now, taking a seat at the table and beginning gingerly at his meal.
 
as written by Krysis

A dark angel, if angel she be. Lalita had long since stopped wondering about her nature though, assuming that either things would clarify with time, or she would never have to find out anyway.

When Marcus got up off the floor at her urging, her breath caught and her eyes went wide. When he walked past her, she stepped out of his way and stared. As usual, the posture of her wings gave away her emotional state, folded tight against her back like a pair of scared rabbits hoping that the worst was not about to happen. The soldiers were not supposed to listen to her. She was just a civilian.

While Marcus was in the shower, Lalita went back to the kitchen to serve up dinner. She'd force the bowls into the hands of the soldiers if she had to, in order to make sure they didn't just drink themselves into a stupor, and that she could get their attention for a few minutes. "We need to keep an eye out, guys. Do you have an established routine, or what?"

She didn't mention the creep factor she was getting from Marcus though, keeping that particular worry to herself. After all, the poor guy was in his own personal hell. Maybe he would snap out of it eventually and no one else needed to be freaking out about him. Until there was a reason to.
 
as written by Azrican

Riley stood in front of the entangler, one hand holding at an empty beer can and the other holding at an Old Fashioned. When the image of Alexander faded and Erika spoke, Riley’s eyes lingered at a point beyond the array on the far wall. Some alcohol and a bit of sleep deprivation was beginning to claw at his mind, but he let the words the Field Marshal spoke seep into him for a few more minutes. “This ESOG team is only here to scout the planet and make contact with the civilizations. That’s how we do something about these Aschen, indirectly.” He said, taking a swig and wiping his mouth on his sleeve before turning around. He walked towards the ornate glass doors, putting the empty bottle on a reading stand besides a couch. “I have contacts that can give us all we need to know about these Aschen. PMCs, knew several of them from their branches operating in the Garden.”

Charles sat with one leg crossed over the other, four robotic fingers holding at a glass of whiskey. The automaton’s eyes shifted from the entangler to the Cobalt agent. “I assumed we’d be making contact with the Invictus promptly after making landfall, I took the liberty of passing a line to a secret confidant.”

Riley nodded his head, either confidence from a good Hykan kladivo or all those extensive years of field work that had landed him on an unknown planet again. As the woman who had been their benevolent (if practically shanghaied) transport appeared in the hall from the kitchen with plates of food the agent finished the last few gulps of the small glass in his hand. “The rest of this shit can be saved for later -- we all know what we have to do now.” He said, speaking before the woman had managed to enter through the doors but giving an indifferent, wayward glance at the two soldiers behind him. “Stomach the worst this godforsaken planet can spit up.”
 
as written by glmstr

"If you say so," Erika leaned back in her chair and stretched. She looked around, remembering that the fridges and pantries were more or less empty.

"So, we need to get our hands on some food. Shall we go hunting, go raid some homes, try to work and barter for it?" The Hykan was going to try to avoid eating exclusively pre-made rations if she could try, and having the ability to at least somewhat feel like a permanent resident on this planet would be great for morale.
 
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