"High noon" still has a resonating historical significance not lost on the people of New Amsterdam. Old cowboy movies, complete with John Wayne standing in a dusty, old street are imprinted upon people's memories, helping them recall a simpler past where grudges could be settled with guns. By 2511, these movies have been remade countless times over with different set pieces, but nostalgia continues to be an ever-present factor. It's not nostalgia that drives the UNA soldiers and Morningstar agents into position during this hour, but the time itself serves as a reminder. A call to a different time and a different past.
Outside, the sun burns bright, but people sleep soundly, shades drawn securely over their windows to create a false darkness. This is why the UNA strikes at noon: their targets will be vulnerable, comforted by the presence of daylight only a drawn shade away,
Across town, Morningstar's agents are preparing for their own strike. One of them makes a joke about the non hour. He's told to shut it. They have fifteen minutes. Is everyone ready? Their uniforms are black, tightly fitting. Each of them pulls their mask over their faces. Up ahead, there's a wall to scale.
Fifteen minutes and the plan goes into motion. Each agent knows the costs of this mission. Their last one ended up with numerous dead – lost – with no reward. UNA soldiers are far more threatening than the armed guards Morningstar faced on that day, but the reward is more sure. Worth the risk. They're secure in what they need to do.
Then it's time. Across the city, the UNA soldiers descend in perfect unison. Separate but thinking with one mind, one goal. Eliminate a festering problem, one that only stands to grow in a world haunted by chaos and trauma. It's their job to set things right. To restore order to a world that is currently without.
About forty five minutes in to the widespread assault, El sends out a message to everyone in the safehouse. This time, zeir communication is immediate, without the steady scrolling of text. Prepared in advance:
Hey, so. Emergency everyone. Come to the safehouse ASAP. Morningstar agents are in trouble, including a number who have helped you behind the scenes. Gaby will tell you more once you get there.
Once everyone shows up, crowded inside the part of the safehouse with the cots, Gaby gives everyone the rundown. The risk. The place where the rest of the agents are – this last bit of information being shared with an uneasy edge, arms crossed and body language giving off her discomfort. There are other people at risk, people who can't fight, who try to undermine the corporations with their regular lives, doing their best to keep the people they care about safe from their rebellious activity.
After she hands out the gear, she insists that it must be returned. But Gaby isn't stupid. Her desperation is inherent in her decisions, in the information that follows: exposing most of the inactive safehouses, giving away the addresses of the people likely in danger. Every Morningstar contact in New Amsterdam is likely at risk. So far, agents in other megacities aren't being targeted – yet. But this operation could be a model for future UNA efforts to eliminate the Morningstar threat.
The safehouses are spread across the city. Typically present in disheveled and forgotten pieces of real estate, there will be squatters and homeless alike taking up space as they move inside with the agents. This may prove a risk, and they may need to be bribed to go elsewhere, offered food and supplies. Other safehouses will be beneath bars, convenience stores, and through the storage room in less expensive apartment buildings – businesses and buildings owned by long-time Morningstar agents, kept ready in the case of an emergency like this one.
None of the safehouses will be prepared for living with the exception of cots and communal restrooms ready for use. This is a problem, but not a priority. She'll ask that everyone get out there and save the lives of the agents. Bring them and their families in safely – the rest can be figured out after that.
> RESTORING ORDER
Given the limitations over real estate and space even in a city as large as New Amsterdam, every citizen lives in an apartment building. The great majority of them were meant to be built quickly, similar layouts and designs behind them. A quick bit of research will get anyone the floor plans for these places – they're publicly available, ready for potential tenants. Most of these places are no dreamhouse, however: small and contained, they show the lifestyle of the typical Morningstar agent.
Any of the agents with a child – and there will only ever be one per agent, with the restrictions on childbirth – will have a roomier place, with better furnishing and more space for a child to run and grow up. These places will afford the family within better privacy, and many of them have drones and advanced robotics to help maintain the household, even caring for their child and keeping the door locked as the UNA soldiers move inside.
Where it's viable, the majority of UNA soldiers will move through the front door of these buildings. Never numbered over five, these soldiers will take the endless staircase up, erasing what little chances there are to run into anyone along the way. The knocks are just a cover to soothe the close-packed neighbors. Not all are fooled, and that's where the calls to the NAPD come in – though the UNA is prepared for this, too. Ready to assert their jurisdiction. Rather: their bosses are prepared. These soldiers have their orders and beyond that, only follow their orders with their formidable physicality and swift training.
But they are physically assertive: most of them are tall, seemingly without gender within thick black, metal armor. Despite their size and their robotic carapace, they are human underneath. Their extensive armor doesn't slow them down, instead seeming to propel them forward in a fight, letting them predict their enemies' moves as the mask they wear provides diagnostics and likely attacks on the fly. They carry extensive weapons and supplies, all to wear down any opponents. When they fight together, their actions are perfectly complementary.
They won't start a fight, but as soldiers, they are prepared. Though they enter through the front door, they intend to leave through a window, into a large flying vehicle outside, ready to hold the targets and bring them to a temporary dropsite. They don't expect any assailants, anyone to provide trouble – but they wouldn't be very well-trained, well designed if they couldn't expect or deal with the unexpected. They won't shoot unless someone forces the matter. Their training means their stature should be enough to put down most threats.
> A WELL-LAID TRAP
Confident and well-trained, the Morningstar agents have the plan ahead of them all mapped out. They know the shifts, the patrol patterns, especially at hours like this one. Fewer, right now, but they aren't nonexistent. Several strike teams spread out, ready to move to dismantle the UNA soldiers on site as needed. These are combat-trained agents, but five versus three UNA soldiers, or two, or even one still leads to odds where they don't win. Morningstar knows these soldiers intimately, has studied and discerned their few weaknesses. But these UNA soldiers are formidable opponents.
UNA Soldiers en route to Morningstar's goal will be handled with an eerie lack of follow-up. No reports of reinforcements incoming. The swift-moving Morningstar agents are too focused on their goal, which is close now, to worry about the implications. Besides, their information told them most agents would be away on training exercises. Reinforcements being delayed is no surprise.
Each agent has their own reason for being here, for believing that Morningstar needs to be more proactive, more forceful in fighting back. They aren't career soldiers, but people who thought that they could wield a gun and change a world that hides its problems under false promises and shimmering gloss. Many are impatient, frustrated: they were given a lead on weapons in June. They weren't mislead then, at least not intentionally, but what they got instead was a bus full of disoriented people. This cache is real, verified, and vulnerable, housed here temporarily before being moved for some unknown operation.
Once the Morningstar agents are all inside, the concealed UNA soldiers left at the base line up in formation. Perfectly tailored for the fight ahead, they move onto the site. Any agents on lookout duty will see the UNA moving in, ready to lay waste to anyone in there. This is a trap, they message frantically. The very real weapons inside are meant to mock with false hope.
The UNA aren't worried about Morningstar making off with their toys. After all, this is just as planned.
> INTERLUDE
Numerous officers pass by the holding cells in the NAPD's twelfth precinct, talking softly about what can they even do, muttering to themselves. Others pop a squat nearby and call it a well-earned day off. Let those soldiers take care of whatever mess they're cleaning up. That's not their job.
It's around this time that a third, unidentified group, takes advantage of the chaos. Well-dressed despite what is a late hours right now, they head into the precinct to take care of a dangling loose end. They show credentials that link them to New Beijing's governing body and personal security, they claim the men temporarily known as Tak and Alexei. As they're brought out of their cells, they're injected with the same compulsory drug as always, leaving them veritable walking zombies at first, leaving them unable to speak or act as they're given orders that tell them to do otherwise.
The records of these men will disappear with this action, the two of them swept away into the back of an expensive four-door sedan. The whole incident erased. Two somehow anonymous men didn't kill semi-innocent bystanders during the festival. As long as the records can be trusted, that was a fantasy. A whimsy.
Morningstar cameras will see this sedan stop near the current safehouse, near the typical entrance, and order Hei and Jake out. "Stay here. Sit down. Don't do or say anything until someone comes to retrieve you. It'll be a bit – they're tied up right now."
The man in the passenger seat in the front rolls down his window, leaning forward on his arm. His face is concealed, utilizing technology that's not the same but not dissimilar to what Morningstar has at their disposal. "Try not to do anything else too stupid, will you? The cops are gonna have a bug up their asses about you idiots."
And then the sedan rolls away, lifting up and passing through the city. Morningstar cameras will spot a specific – or perhaps the more apt word is "suspicious" – lack of license plate.
> MEDI-UNITS
Each of the safehouses were designed for the worst case scenario. There is a medi-unit in all of the safehouses, a large and complex machine that can heal most ills, but given the expensive nature of their design and the risk of using them, they're not used lightly.
The medi-units are reserved for the direst of needs. come into play. Dependent on a person's time of death to bring them back to the living, they need the exact time so that someone can clock it in and prepare the restoration process correctly. There are many risks in lacking that information – someone may come back damaged, unhealed, hurt in some way. They may not live for long. Assuming that a body is brought in with a time of death, they'll be directed to a safehouse with a free unit.
The person is kept in a medically induced coma while the machine repairs their body. What dreams someone experiences will be at the end point – which can be between 48 and 60 hours – as they slowly surface, starting to return to the world of the living. As they surface, their mind will be encumbered by images of bright blue lights glowing, swirling, communicating – but language seems thoroughly out of reach.
Once the medi-unit opens, the person inside will be thirsty. Desperate for water. But there will be no other signs of the wear and tear on their bodies.
> FINAL OOC NOTES
Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. The outcome for this event will depend upon character plans and actions developed in both this OOC post, and any additional plots brought to the moderators. Please feel free to submit any game-changing plans to us under the questions thread – but we will be reading all comments on the post!
The Operation will continue until September 11, IC time. An aftermath wrap up post will be made on January 26 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event.
As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by FEBRUARY 23 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.
Our Activity Check will be posted tomorrow, January 20, at 9 PM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on January 27. We will not post a warning list.
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meadowlarklogs2019-01-19 09:58 pm
prompto argentum | ffxv
[according to the map provided by daisy, there should be morningstar agents in danger in this particular building. one of two things can happen: a. the apartment is reached before the UNA soldiers make their entrance and prompto will be at the ready, gun drawn, cock and loaded, double-checking the map.]
This is the place. [quickly, hushed. the sound of rushed footsteps travel from the stairs, just a minute behind their own arrival. the door to the staircase is bound to open any second now.] Wanna pelt them with bullets or we more for a sneak attack?
[or b. the UNA soldiers are already in place, having shot one individual and sedated the child, ready to move out with their sedated target. what the soldiers were not expecting was to find their way to the exit blocked by some loons with guns and masks. prompto's shooting his gun, barrel rolling behind a wall and waiting for the enemy fire to cease.]
We're in the money♪ [he moves around the wall, two guns now in his hands, arms outstretched, shooting away] We're in the money♪ --check your six! Incoming!
2. HAVE NO FEAR, PROMPTO IS HERE! (OTA)
[in need for a rescue, or a helping hand while you're off on the pacifist route investigating or tending to a sedated child? prompto pulls down his mask a second, crouching down near the individual needing help, a hand on their back.]
It's me! [and he pushes the mask back up again, covering his face.] Y'know those soldiers aren't taking any breaks, right? I wouldn't a hundred percent recommend staying here for too long.
...but I'll cover for you if you need me to.
3. IS THIS FOR REAL? (LOCKED: ARDYN)
[there are worse things than being chased by a stubborn UNA soldier, but right now, prompto can't think of any. it's his own fault he provoked the fucker by shooting it twice in both arms so that it'd drop its weapon and be--well, useless. it probably wants to see about incapacitating prompto in other visceral ways. he's got a plan, however, which involves running up the stairs into the roof of the building, busting open the door and nearly falling forward on his face. it's enough for him to tumble on his feet, turn around, and shoot his guns in time for the UNA soldier's appearance at the door. the soldier falls on its own weight, heavy. the force of the shots makes prompto finally fall backwards on his ass, the young man allowing himself to lie flat as he takes in deep breaths and laughs.]
[that sure was an adrenaline rush.]
[it takes him a moment before opening his eyes and sitting up, removing the mask from his face as he looks the fallen soldier over. he's catching his breath, slow movements in getting himself back to his feet. as far as prompto knows, the soldier is dead and he's safe. as far as prompto knows, other UNA soldiers won't be coming to collect the body of their fallen comrade. as far as he knows, he's alone up here, and the shadow slowly looming over him doesn't quite register yet.]
You gotta know when to give it up, y'know.
4. IT'S JUST A SCRATCH! (LOCKED: DUTCH)
[finding himself the target of a number of UNA soldiers isn't exactly what prompto was looking forward to. he's jumping in and out with different groups of people, yeah, but he wasn't actually banking on running into a group of them when he was by himself. they catch him in the stairs which is the worst kind of scenario; it's narrow, with no real exits as they block both up and down. he grits his teeth and his hands hover at the guns on their holsters, his breathing becoming heavier as he tries to thinkthinkthink of a way out of this one.]
[he left himself completely open.]
[the second he removes the guns from their holsters, he extends his arms and starts shooting--above and below him. unfortunately, that only means the soldiers consider him a threat and are now moving on with lethal force. prompto gets shot on the chest--and it propels him backward, over the banister, and falling onto a floor below. it's pitiful, but he's only about managed to fall onto a landing, wheezing as the shots to his chest steal the air from him--thank god for bullet proof vests. being in the line of fire isn't something he is unfamiliar with, though, and he's moving as fast as he can, crouched and clutching his chest as he pushes a door to the twelfth floor open with his shoulder, bullets raining down towards him. it feels like something's broken, and he isn't sure where he dropped the guns. all he knows is that he's got to move.]
Shit-
[he updates his map location, taking cover behind a wall and wincing at the pain from his chest. he's grateful he at least has an extra gun on his leg holster.]
@prom.argentum
anyone in this vicinity
i need help
five to six soldiers on my tail
lol
sos
[you bet he's spamming.]
5. THE BEANS HAVE BEEN SAVED, BOYS (OTA)
[sometimes, not every encounter with UNA soldiers is fighting them. sometimes, arriving too late, there are still children that need saving. get them to the safehouse so that they can wake up in a place where someone can tend to them despite the horrific circumstances.]
[prompto steps inside the apartment, glancing back at his current partner in crime, and grimaces as he faces forward again. there's blood, signs of a struggle, silence. what he assumes is the parent of the child had been shot in the head, all the while holding on to their child, now asleep through sedatives. protective arms around the kid, the wall stained with blood and brain matter, no one stirs. he checks the child, checks for a pulse.]
She's alive.
[he wouldn't imagine soldiers hurting children, but one can never be too careful. he holsters his gun and starts at the limp arms of the parent to extract the child.]
We better get her outta here before things get nasty out there.
[it can either be an easy ride, or they can run into soldiers!]
@yalena.yardeen
[ she's in the vicinity, a little worse for wear from the fight at the warehouse, but she came away clean —mostly, anyway. what pain she feels can be ignored. ("master your pain, little bird" is khlyen's voice, echoing in her mind. some of the lessons he'd taught her still stick. others, not so much.)
she finds prompto behind the wall. ]
Hey. [ she's got a gun in her hand, another in a thigh holster. there used to be a rifle slung across her back, but she's had to toss it in the warehouse. ]
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Hey.
[it's gritted out, but it's not the time for small talk, and he knows it.]
Five or six UNA soldiers. They'll probably burst through the door any second now. [they don't have time, is what he means.] I can still fight but I can't move that quick. We should [a sharp intake of breath, as he shifts, an attempt to stand] probably fall back.
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[ it's not the time for small talk. it's good that he knows it, too —but knowing how well he'll be able to move, how much he can still fight? how badly hurt he is? that'll help dutch know how much she can expect. that he's hurt is obvious from the tone of his voice, the sharp intake of breath.
she reaches out, taking one of his arms. not pulling him up until she knows the damage, but steadying him if he needs it. her other hand is steady on her gun, eyes never leaving the door. ]
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1a. keepin' it short and simple: attack.
Still, he knows enough to get things done.
A short hum from behind his mask, and he's already glancing back to the stairway. When he speaks, it's equally quiet. (If it were possible, he would have preferred the complete silent that came from communicating via the neural implants, but that would be far too dangerous.)]
I believe pelting them would still qualify as a surprise, to them. The doorway is a good barrier to keep them from spreading out, as well. Make shots as soon as they appear.
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[there's something about prompto the longer he spent out in lucis with the others, hunting daemons and fighting off the empire's own; he stops being the comical youth with ill-timed laughter, instead coming down with a chilling seriousness that has become more of a trademark in the gunslinger of the team.]
[he reaches behind him for a second gun and twirls them around in his hands, having already become familiar with their shape and weight.]
[the action stops soon as the sound at the staircases stops, and prompto's grinning behind the mask, arms stretched forward and the guns cocked, fingers on the triggers. there's a pocket of silence--]
Welcome to bullet o'clock, boys.
[--the door opens, and prompto's guns are going off, the once silent floor loud with the sound of gunshots and bullets ricocheting. prompto trusts ignis can handle his own defense, as he lowers himself to his knee for the expected barrage in retaliation. the soldier receiving the majority of the damage falls to its knees, stunned, dropping its weapon; prompto's aiming for the arms and hands and neck.]
[time to change tactics, though, as they push out and try to give themselves room to attack them.]
Iggy!
[prompto rolls out of the way behind a pillar, reloading his guns before aiming for their heads.]
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His shots are far more spaced than Prompto's- carefully placed between the other man's burst of gunfire, trying to line up shots between the joints in their armor. The first is ultimately caught off guard by their appearance and downed by Prompto's rapid-fire attacked, though the second is obviously more prepared.
One last shot grazes the armor at the joint of a soldier's neck, worthlessly pinging away and lodging itself into a wall somewhere, and Ignis curses as he backs behind his own pillar, quickly pulling one of his knives out of his belt in his off hand. It wouldn't be useful for anything but stabbing, given that it wasn't made for attacking anything more threatening than some particularly tough root vegetables, but it's certainly better than nothing.]
Focus when you get an opportunity. And don't hit me.
[He trusts in Prompto's aim. The man's fired into beasts and MTs plenty of times before while the rest of them were engaging in melee combat, and Ignis doesn't think he'd hit any of them before. Not with his guns, at least.
(Magic was a different story.)
Regardless, he drops low and pounces out, taking a few quick half-aimed hip shots at the soldier still standing to occupy it, before lunging at it with the thin blade, trying to jam it into the join between the helmet and shoulder plates in the armor.
For a split-second he has the chance to realize that fighting these soldiers is nothing like battling MTs back home, despite the similarity in appearance and action. The lack of armiger or magic or healing potions, for one. And the fact that the joint isn't as easily accessible, letting the man grab him by the back of his clothes and bodily throw him back towards Prompto highlights it also.]
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wow how did i MISS THIS TAG....
this tag is cursed i missed it too...
Five!
Doesn't mean the air isn't frosty, though. ]
Hurry up, then.
[ Aranea lingers at the door, keeping watch. Her back is to him, yes, but she'll turn around at the slightest noise. Her next words are murmured, largely to herself. ]
... what a damn mess.
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[the sound that will make aranea turn around is prompto opening a door further inside the apartment, into a bedroom.]
Hold on.
['hurry up' might as well have fallen on deaf ears, because this should be a get her and go mission.]
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With an unhappy little huff, she otherwise stays quiet, following him to the bedroom at a few steps behind. ]
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u kno
Ardyn’s grin widens — sharpens, as it often does — and he steps forward as his footsteps dully reveal his presence via a lazy tempo. His shadow is looming, as if attuned to his own theatrical ways and his facetious timbre.]
So they say. Though perhaps it’s advice you should take for yourself, Prompto. Your luck is bound to run out after a display like that; barely surviving by the skin of your teeth.
[And next to him stands Ardyn, a tall figure with a familiar gun (supplies partitioned out by Gaby) hanging loosely at his hip. Behind him, sequestered near one of the rooftop’s corners is the rest of it: bulletproof vest, and a mask made to obscure his identity.
Obviously helping other Morningstar agents was not on his list of high priorities.]
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[it's like he's been hit by a jolt of lightning; he's up immediately, up on his feet and stepping back from ardyn. mask forgotten, hands raised with gun at the ready, pointing at him.]
Stay back.
[he's not taking his chances with ardyn--not anymore. the man is not to be trusted and he's already messed enough with their heads to be trusted. he stands firm, however, now that he's put some distance between them.]
[...it's after a moment that prompto finds it in him to grin, as unhappy as he is about being in ardyn's presence. he's still catching his breath, his chest erratic in its up and down.]
My luck's shit considering I end up in the same rooftop as the one you're scheming in, out of all rooftops in this city.
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But does he act worried? Show even the smallest tinge of anxiety? No. Ardyn doesn’t move forward, but that smile on his expression remains indelible, and when he raises his arms it’s not to placate Prompto, but to gesture towards him in a grandiloquent way.]
And what makes you think I’m scheming? Maybe I’m just enjoying the view; the chaos below, from high above. You’re the one—
[Ah, a gesture at the fallen UNA soldier behind him, armor still steaming from where Prompto’s shots had made contact.] —bringing trouble to me. Dragging up here one of those mindless things.
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wow i lost this notif GOMEN
:T
>8|
1a
Bullets, teeth, claws. All of the above, I say.
[And there's something in his face, a kind of quickening, a thirst for blood that runs bone deep and won't be sated until he's drenched in it.]
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[he pushes up his mask for a moment to wipe at the sweat building over his brow, grinning (perhaps out of nervousness) at the other's expression. the mask goes back down, adjusting it so it fits his head comfortably.]
[with a tap of his fingers onto giovanni's mask, he throws in the reminder.] Use y'mask. We don't wanna get you in trouble for getting your ID scanned by accident. Would make things pretty shit.
[he gets it, though, the excitement; the jolts of adrenaline at just waiting for someone to come in, get some of these bullets waiting for them.]
Watch my back and I'll watch yours, okay?
[any second now]
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2
Regardless of where she is when, she's momentarily at a disadvantage when she runs into a unit of soldiers; she hadn't taken a gun, ultimately deciding against it, but short of actually waiting for them to pass on by from her hiding spot she doesn't know what she'll do if she unexpectedly encounters another group of them when it's just her.
She doesn't jolt in surprise when someone jumps down next to her, but there is a moment when she wonders if she's been caught before the mask comes down, and Gaby breathes a visible sigh of relief. ] Are you alright?
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[he offers with a grin, even if she can't see his face anymore. he holsters his gun in front of his chest. his gloved hand is on her shoulder, so they can keep as out of sight as possible, even if there's no imminent threat.]
And you? I can give you a hand if you need it.
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5
It is a mercy that this child is left sleeping, hopefully put down ere the madness started. He has seen all too often what can happen to a child – to anyone – who has witnessed such violence. For whatever paltry comfort it may bring, these UNA soldiers have showed more mercy than the enemies X’rhun is used to. Were it Garlean soldiers knocking down these doors, not a soul would have been spared.
But those are thoughts for another time, for they’ve just happened across precious cargo indeed, and now it is their job to see this little one ferried to safety. ]
I will take her, then.
[ X’rhun hasn’t yet managed to figure out how to use his strange new power at will, but it has had a habit of cropping up when he most needs it. Hopefully if bullets begin flying (and they will), it will spring up to keep the girl safe.
Once Prompto has freed the child from the lifeless arms of her parent, X’rhun scoops her up to gently cradle her against his chest. ]
Keep a sharp eye, my friend. You’ve far better aim than I.
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Okay.
[he stands back when the other suggests carrying the sleeping girl, then worries about finding a blanket to cover the corpse they are leaving behind. it's a matter of respect, right?]
[seeing a dead body is never easy. he hopes not to have to do that too often, anymore.]
[eyes lingering on the shape of the body, he answers the other's words.]
There's a safehouse in the building next to this one. Under the basement, seems like. [to think that if they would have had five minutes of warning, they could have all escaped there without problem.] Let's avoid the stairs.
[hand going for his guns, prompto walks towards the door.]
The elevator should be safe, but let's not get out on the lobby. Ready?
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two.
This was meant to be an assist. Her implant had pinged a nearby apartment with the indication that another Morningstar agent was already on site to extract their colleague, but something's wrong. When she gets to the floor, she sees why — the rescue's gone south, one agent dead and the other sedated and on the way out with UNA soldiers. But Peggy's thrown a wrench in that smooth escape, firing at them from the hallway and using the doorway as cover. Prompto arrives not long after her, likely with the same idea, and were it not for the mask, she'd be flashing a grin at him now.
Even as the bullets spark off the painted metal wall she's currently sheltering behind. ]
I might just, [ comes her reply, whipping back into the doorframe to return fire, and ducking back. ] They have an agent. Distract them while I go in?
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You needn't ask twice!
[it's almost natural, how the two of them switch places quick; he's got two guns to play with, cocking both and starting to fire with expert confidence.]
Go ahead! I won't miss, and I certainly won't shoot you either!
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this is so late i'm sorry
no worries!!
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2.
[ He's - super on fire is what he is, smoke is pouring out of his fire resistant clothing, covering his hands and catching the ends of his hair on fire. Prompto means well, and - and that's enough to stop him from, lashing out at him. He's hurting but it's not bad enough to, well, be bad.
But they're pinned down. Damian leans back on his haunches and rakes a fiery hand through his also very on fire hair. ]
How good a shot are you?
!! burn-y boy
[the important questions. but prompto draws his hand back immediately at the command, squatting down with the other because hafid isn't entirely telling him to fuck off.]
[it's hard to fuck off in their current situation, anyway.]
Better than my hand-to-hand combat skills. A whole lot better. [he eyes the other warily.] You sure you're okay?
roast marshmellows on him prom
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2
[Flat and dry as the desert, he passes Prompto a quick glance, mask still fixed over his own face. Where he's crouched on the ground in the corner of an apartment building's hallway, it wouldn't look like there's much to be said for the defensive position - except for the heavy burden in his arms. Cain is carrying a sedated child. The girl can't be much older than eight or nine, short dark hair, face smudged with soot, and wearing a brightly-patterned dress. Gun tucked into his belt, he hasn't yet dared to make for the exit, not after what he witnessed past the door ajar to his right.]
Don't go in that apartment. [Assuming Prompto's here to cover his back, he climbs to his feet with the girl bundled against his chest.] Let's get the fuck out of here. You know the way?
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[cain doesn't even have to ask him to check out for possible exit routes as he's already doing so, standing up at the same time as the other as he scans the map for alternatives.]
Safehouse behind a bar two blocks down. This building has a number of agents so there's UNA crawling all over.
[he glances around them, at the hallway, then at the closed doors of both the elevator and staircase.]
We could head downstairs but we run the risk of soldiers in the lobby area regrouping. Roof's another option, jump into the building next door. [another quick map search] One UNA incident there, but gives more room to escape without running into 'em.
[he isn't a leader!! but he has half a mind set to avoid the most amount of confrontation as possible, with a child in the middle of it all. gun in his hands pointing down, he moves to the wall diagonal from them and then motions with his head towards the stairs and elevator.]
quickly
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