"Queen of all nomad folks, me. You can come too if you want, Jess, I'll need someone to tell tales of my glory."
That got a small, albeit nervous, chuckle out of Astor. How could she be so nonchalant about all of this us? Well, unless she was faking too. Though, if that were the case, it was perfectly understandable. Still, at least she hadn't caught her hands shaking and had stuffed them into her pockets in order to hide said shaking like some people. All 'Jesse' needed was a decent wall to lean against then he could go for that ol' badboy pose. Such a ladykiller. Nevertheless, it was hardly the time for that: this was super serious mission time! Didn't hurt to blow off some stress with snarking, though.
"Touché." 'Jesse' said, "Of course I would bear witness to your glory, Nomad Queen, but only as a king by your side."
He still had it.
***
Frustration turned to anger as Jun cursed how helpless he was. However, as soon as he heard Bryan's orders, his mind latched onto them. No time for anything else, not even questioning whatever Bryan had planned. If he had a plan. Nevertheless, the injured soldier tried his best to throw his pistol over, using his hands like tongs. Then, silently seething, Jun ran.
Firing blindly over the hood of the crawler, Bryan considered his options. Run with Jun? No. Without covering fire, they would both die.
Click, empty. He dropped his pistol, grabbed Jun's, and kept firing.
That left the Crawler he was using as cover. Opening the door, he ducked inside and kept low. In an instant, gunfire started drumming on the armoured hull.
Like all military vehicles, its ignition was secured with an access code rather than a key, and he thumbed it in and hit the accelerator.
The vehicle lurched forward, gaining speed. Turning, he drove straight at the squad of imposters. Most of them scattered, but one went over the top and hit the dirt, twitching. With a 180, Bryan sped off in the opposite direction, incidentally running over the fallen imposter, and set off after Jun.
A battered Crawler, along with its driver, came into view. Still running, Jun shouted over to Bryan, "Going to let me in?"
Leaning over and popping the passenger-side door, Bryan grinned. "Depends, you got taxi fare?"
The response to that was just a sigh, though Jun was extremely tempted to say something else entirely. Regardless, he got in. Staring out of the wrecked widescreen, Jun asked, "What now?"
"We get you somewhere safe," Bryan replied. "Our barracks and Tsu's apartment are here, so they're out."
As he drove through the checkpoint (unmanned in the chaos) he thought. "I got somewhere in mind," he said. "But you ain't gonna like it."
Of course, dump the load. And those last five words made it even better. Jun replied, ever so eloquently, with, "Whatever, just be quick."
Jun's sour reaction didn't escape Bryan. Putting on a grin, he said, "hey, don't be like that. I do need ya to do something for me. Could be at a time like this, Asad or Tsubaki might check the old Samsara radio frequency. We'll get you set up so you can try and get 'em to respond while I go back in."
With Bryan avoiding the main roads, it didn't take long for them to get deep into the more maze-like parts of the city. Eventually he came to a halt. Time to dump the car in case anyone was tracking it.
"...Roger." Was all Jun said to that. At least now he could look forward to pressing some buttons and fiddling with dials with his toes or something. When they stopped, he kicked opened the passenger-side door (which was in a sorry state) and got out, waiting for further instruction.
Wordlessly leading Jun through the alleys, Bryan eventually found himself on familiar ground. One of the perks of being an ex-street rat was a knack for navigating urban sprawl.
Their destination was the pub Bryan had brought Jun to after they'd gotten out of the hospital. It was mostly empty in the middle of the day, and Bryan walked right up to the bar, and asked for the owner.
While they waited, he turned to Jun. "Said ya wouldn't like it. But the owner and I go back a ways, and he's a mate. I dunno what the fuck's going on, but he'll keep quiet under heat, I reckon."
"I expected worst." Jun stated. He honestly wouldn't put it past Bryan to suddenly invade a closed strip club or the like. Still, Jun wasn't entirely convinced of the owner's trustworthiness. Civilians panicked all too easily.
One exuberantly loud hello was followed by a brief discussion, and soon Bryan and Jun were sitting in the bar's second attic room, where the best reception was.
Straightening up from setting the frequency, he put the radio's stand-mic on the desk. "Alright," he said. "Push that down and hold it to talk, I reckon. Bloody older models, eh? Still, I reckon you can still do that with a pair o' medical mittens on."
Jun demonstrated that he could. He turned to Bryan, "I can take from here. Go."
Bryan nodded. Slinging his swords across his back, he headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned.
"Hey Jun."
"Yer in a shitty position right now, and I know how ya must feel, not being able to do nothing. But just you wait, man. Whatever this is, it's big. Assuming the man who gives us our wage packets is still alive at the end o' the day, we're gonna be dealing with this.
"You might not be able to do anything right now," he said, "but you'll get your bloody chance, mate. 'Cause we are gonna fuckin' well get our own back fer this."
...That wasn't a quip. That was something else entirely. Jun wasn't really sure how to take it. Nevertheless, he sat himself down near the desk and the microphone and simply mumbled, "...Thanks."
"No problem," Bryan replied, and turned for the door. When he was back out in the streets, he turned and looked at Basillio tower in the distance. You could spot signs of violence and destruction even at this distance.
Reaching into his combat jacket, he pulled out a hipflask and took a swig of whiskey before setting off in the tower's direction.
***
With most of the Iron Maidens out on their little heist, there really wasn't much to do. Sure, Maria could just take it easy but there was this little piece of dirt which simply wouldn't go away. She'd gotten everywhere else so clean as well.
The doctor was almost about to give up when some girl entered the scene. Probably one of the Austinites or something. Maria sighed, it would probably have to wait until later. Vowing to vanquish that little caked-on bit of dirt, the doctor then turned to the girl with a stern, "What is it? Kinda in the middle of something here. Something
very important."
"Um..." The girl squirmed, "Well..."
Another sigh, "Spit it out already."
"Okay." The younger of the two begun, "Me and the lads were shootin' cans, then we got Whiskey's girl to have a go. Then..."
"Yes?" Maria said.
"She pulled the trigger and kinda knocked herself out. Whiskey got sorta mad." The girl finally explained.
"
Maldición." Maria replied while passing the cleaning equipment to the girl, "Alright, I'll take a look. Buuuut, you gotta clean this mess up as punishment."
The girl nodded but before she could make any comments about how there wasn't any mess, Maria was gone. Arriving at the armoury, the doctor found a very worried Whiskey pacing about the armoury floor and her daughter in the recovery position. Maria immediately began examining Millie, stopping only once to ask Whiskey something.
"Are you okay?"
