tylatz
EFF 
Sergeant
Posts: 261
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Post by tylatz on Jan 6, 2010 0:19:15 GMT -5
It was victory. So long it had been since it last visited the African Union that Des was unsure of how to accept it and move forward through the melancholy that followed battle. In defeat it was easy. Everyone shared in the same despondency that crippled the morale and slowed their movements to a languid trudge, but victory created a pitched dichotomic atmosphere of somber jubilation that varied through their ranks. For some were relieved by the final destruction of RF-2 which had exasperated them for the majority of September and were ecstatic with energy. Others questioned why it had taken so many lives in previous attacks to destroy the mine when the casualties were so few for the final attack; a question that Des could only answer as his own failing to properly lead. A few were uncertain on how to feel knowing that the future battles would only become more difficult and the losses of the Union would continue to rise in their quest for independence.
Then there was Elden and Nu whom were making themselves at home aboard the newly acquired Samson with a collection of spray paint, welding torches, and random junk scavenged from the remains of the mine. They were quite handy with a can of paint which didn't come as a surprise to many of those within the AU who'd spent any amount of time around the pair. In hours the Samson was fronted by a large skull bellowing fire from it's mouth and streaming back from the eye sockets and streaked down the sides of the vehicle. Along the top of the cargo trailer a flat sheet of metal is ran perpendicular and missile tubes from the destroyed Type 50 were being put into place on the far edges to create the look of a pair of wings with weapon pods attached.
Contessa was quick to voice her opinion on the creation of the diabolical twosome with a, “wha'tha hell y'all doin',” to the tune of a Southern twang. That only brought additional attention with Shu suggesting the addition of a skirt and Ted mocking them that the tubes from the Type 50 would just explode if they ever attempted to fire them. A swig of rum from Des' flask convinced Sergei to let them continue with their alterations. At the very least the antics were rousing the freedom fighters from their stupor.
Victory; it's a good feeling.
“We received word from Jess,” Jocelyn interrupted Des and Sergei while joining them in what remained of the commander's office. It was pocketed in the corner of a larger building and faced the greater extent of the compound. The office was also much more accessible now that two of the walls were missing giving an unhindered view of the destruction they visited upon RF-2.
“What's he have to say?” Des questioned while attempting to take the flask back from Sergei, but was intercepted by Jocelyn.
“That Jane Sheppard woman you contacted was killed in a major operation in North America.” She took a swig and continued, “no word on Ela. They are assuming the worst.”
“Fuck!” was the only word Des could spit out and his Russian comrade grumbled something incomprehensible.
“Seems the Feds want to keep it quiet. Rumor is that they had an embarrassing incident with a ship,” she smirked and leaned back on the desk set next to the couch the men were occupying. “Will they never learn?”
“If they did we wouldn't be in this mess,” Sergei chimed in.
“Is Sage still prepping for the funeral?” A simple nod from Sergei answered Des' question. After a short sigh Des' voice acquired a new edge to it as he rattled off orders to his compatriots. “Jocelyn, see if Frisby needs help with routing the supply lines through this mine. I want to setup a forward operating base here immediately. Sergei, get Ozie and Marcelino working on a feast for this evening. There's a lot of food in those freezers going to waste. Have Ted pass around the word that I want to speak with everyone after the funeral. I'm going to go give Sage a hand in the shaft if you need me.”
“Sounds good,” commented Vastimov as the three went their separate ways to handle their own tasks.
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jon
Junior Member
Palm Pilot
Posts: 169
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Post by jon on Jan 6, 2010 5:16:49 GMT -5
Liliana Frisby wandered towards Des's position. The grouping of staff members dispersed as he drew near, leaving only the African Union's 'unique' leader standing on his own in the half-ruined building. He sidestepped a pair of soldiers, cleaning their weapons, and the two gave him an odd look. He knew he stood out amongst this motley crew. But even as he glanced back at them, their attention was drawn by a sharp "Yip!"
Darting past between them came Gunther. His paws trekked across the dirt as though he had been doing so all his life - instead of the reality in which he spent it primarily in small mechanical corridors. The small dog's energy had seemingly been renewed from the moment they had touched down planetside. Liliana supposed it was the fresh air, or something.
'Maybe it's that now he can finally mark his territory the old-fashioned way?'
Whatever the case, at least one of the two of them seemed to be without doubts. Liliana rubbed his hands together as he strode towards the open side of the command room, thinking back on his decision to drop everything and join in this new cause. It had been so out of character for the man. Perhaps it had been the news of their fight, worded just right to grab his atteniton. Or maybe he was just bored with his stagnant life, never changing anything from his trading routes right down to his clothes.
'A midlife crisis?' Larry grinned to himself. 'Whatever would Sally think?'
That name in his thoughts brought him quickly back to reality, and the smile vanished. He strode finally through the ruined wall. At his feet, Gunther trotted happily behind him and settled on his haunches nearby. Liliana turned to face Des, and offered a half-hearted salute, tipping his cap slightly. As the two stood opposite one-another, the flamboyant Mielle's whole bearing seemed to dwarf the somber demeanor of Frisby. Both men could surely feel the difference in spirit, which was yet another reason, perhaps, that Liliana had found his way into the Union.
Regardless, it was Liliana who spoke first.
"Good to see you, boss. That seemed to go..." Liliana paused for a moment, searching for the right word. "... I suppose it went well, didn't it?"
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tylatz
EFF
Sergeant
Posts: 261
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Post by tylatz on Jan 7, 2010 1:42:54 GMT -5
It struck Des as humorous how the small dog seemed to make himself right at home in the battered office; almost like it belonged to him. Seemed to always be the smallest of creatures that made the biggest of claims. That same line of thought could be applied to the AU itself and the audacity of it to claim all of Africa.
"Good to see you, boss. That seemed to go ... I suppose it went well, didn't it?" Said the older gentleman whom had intercepted Des before he could even leave the office.
“That it did, Mr. Frisby,” Des smiled at the newest ally of the African Union and reached to offer his flask, but found the pocket typically holstering the metal case to be empty. “Excuse me just a second.” He nodded to Liliana and popped a wheel off what remained of the office chair intended for the desk. Tossing the wheel up and down in one gloved hand he focused on his target walking away from the office. Having acquired a good feel for the weight of the wheel he arched the piece of plastic through the air and clipped Jocelyn on the ass. “Yeah! Thought you'd get away with it, huh?!” He called out even as she reflexively spun around and took aim at him with the Uzi that hung from her belt. One eye brow fleetingly piqued and she gave the slightest of smiles. “Mr. Frisby and I have some business to discuss, so how about you just take care of that by yourself then make sure Sage is ready.” She turned and continued about her way without a response. “And I want that full when you return it!” To that she flipped Des the bird without looking back.
“Watch out for that one,” Des commented turning back to Liliana with a grin. “So how are you liking Earth? They told me you caught one of those Zeek bastards with a heat axe. Pretty good for an old man.”
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jon
Junior Member
Palm Pilot
Posts: 169
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Post by jon on Jan 7, 2010 5:36:17 GMT -5
Liliana watched as Des pulled the wheel of the chair off and tested its weight. He followed its flight from Des's fist to its chosen target, the backside of that extraordinarily tall woman - 'Jaclyn? Something like that...' As she turned and sighted towards the two of them, Liliana flinched instinctively, moving towards the ruined wall of the room. Des, by comparison, simply stared her down. As the two of them traded barbs both verbalized and otherwise, the byplay between Des and his officer had Liliana grinning in spite of himself.
The relaxed atmosphere of the African Union created a far more easy transition for Liliana than a traditional military's discipline might have. Even if their methods were a tad unorthodox at times, they seemed competent on the whole.
'And not having to go through some ridiculous "boot camp" is worth ducking away from the odd submachinegun pointed at your head, I suppose. I'll just have to work on the ol' reflexes.'
Des turned back towards the older man with a broad smile. "So how are you liking Earth? They told me you caught one of those Zeek bastards with a heat axe. Pretty good for an old man."
Liliana's grin faded somewhat, and he shrugged. That success had shocked him almost as much as it must have shocked the Zeon pilot who caught the wrong end of the Zaku Worker's weapon.
"I kept myself busy during shipping runs by running through a series of simple drills and maneuvers. I must have been doing something right. Or maybe that Zeek was just doing something really wrong." Liliana managed to recover his own smile. "Either way, I'm glad it was him and not me. My suit and I may be a bit older, but there's life in the old joints yet. For both of us."
He turned and looked off towards the distance, where his suit was being repaired following the attack. The massive agglomeration of metal and electronics had afforded him a true victory - something he had never really been a part of in his life before now. Gunther stepped over to his feet, and Liliana absentmindedly picked him up, listening to the bustle of noise that surrounded him. Scratching the dog behind its ears gave Liliana a sense of familiarity, even in such an unusual environment. Holding onto that feeling, 'Larry' gave a look over his shoulder back at his charismatic leader.
"Give it to me honestly, Des - do you really think we can win? I don't mean, some of these battles. I mean, you know - the long term? I'm new to all of this - " and at 'this,' Liliana stretched out his free hand and indicated the camp - "but I have to imagine we're fighting an uphill battle, on a hill that may be very tall indeed. Don't get me wrong, I know what I signed up for. I just don't have a good handle on the situation, I suppose." He turned fully, then, back to face Des. The look on his face was hardly depressed, simply curious. The concept of 'freedom fighting' truly was really new to Liliana Frisby, even at his advancing age.
"Or am I wrong?"
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tylatz
EFF
Sergeant
Posts: 261
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Post by tylatz on Jan 7, 2010 12:02:09 GMT -5
The shift in the mans vibe as he responded was clear as day and a bet unsettling for Des. Was the man just humble and lack confidence in himself or did the memories of sailing the stars looking to scavenge a dime depress Liliana so much? There was no doubt in Des's mind that such a thing was very lonely; the evident bond between man and beast proved that. People aren't always the same after going through long periods of isolation, a subject Des learned a great deal about as a SERE instructor, and given the skill that Liliana had displayed yet unable to relate a similar encounter before indicated the elderly man had spent a great deal of time in solitude. Or maybe it was just the idea of taking a life with his own hands? It was likely that it was all true in this case.
The transient vibe passed quickly enough as Liliana related himself to the Zaku Worker he piloted. It was probably very useful in space by warding off piracy by simply having a mobile weapon around or performing large scale emergency work around the ship. It was going to require a great deal of maintenance to operate in the Sahara though. Hopefully that's not something the two have in common.
Then Liliana unloaded on Des by asking him some of the very same questions that he often posed to himself. They were very reasonable and something that someone in his position should be able to answer with little difficulty. He stood at the fore of a revolution that he tirelessly fought to advance across Africa. When it came down to it, he was the center point of the African Union, but Des hesitated to answer a simple question on if the lofty goals were even possible. It wasn't that no one had asked him the question many times before. Des was just prone to constantly reassess the situation and he learned many things while at Malta. It was no longer so clear on if a unification of Africa and the removal of foreign forces was possible. They barely survived a run-in with what turned out to be the elite of the Zeon infantry. Their reinforcements and supply lines were sluggish leaving them unprepared for their previous attempt against the destroyed compound they inhabited. Things weren't good. Des could see that clearly which made this latest victory so important. It developed a bit of the momentum he needed to foster with a clear and decisive answer, but he couldn't. Honestly, he was no longer sure.
At some point Des became aware that he was staring at the hijinks of Alpha Platoon with the Samson. There was no certainty on just how long he stood there lost in his thoughts, but at some point he had placed his right hand over the box tucked in an inner pocket. His shoulders heaved with a deep sigh and a short lived smile. He had to face the facts, there really wasn't any other choice at this point. Running away just wasn't an option.
“I think,” he started then paused for a moment, “this isn't a situation of can and can't. It's a must.” The words didn't completely make sense to him, but they felt right as if it was the natural way of things. A wildebeest doesn't question if it can get to the only water hole in miles which happens to be surrounded by predators. It only knows that it must do it just as the predators know they must eat. Somehow, someway, there was a finality to that sort of thought that defied the possible. Des chuckled at his own thoughts. “I'm sorry,” he apologized to Liliana, “I'm not very good at these things and fail to make much sense.”
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