KirayaTiDrekan
Adventurer
"The less paperwork and BS the better. If that means ditching that D-bag, then I'm cool with it. This whole FCC thing never made sense to me, anyway."
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CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE
- Thread starter CanadienneBacon
- Start date
CanadienneBacon
Explorer
Marks clammed up for a moment. Feral spied small beads of sweat form on this temple. "Just beware Garvey. She'll be here soon, and she's a bad mother f--."
KirayaTiDrekan
Adventurer
Feral nodded, then asked, "Just tell me one thing. Did the FCC, or whoever we're really working for, know about this alien BS before they recruited a group of expendable convicts?"
CanadienneBacon
Explorer
Marks shook his head no. "FCC. If they knew they didn't tell me."
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KirayaTiDrekan
Adventurer
[roll0]
CanadienneBacon
Explorer
Marks is sincere.
KirayaTiDrekan
Adventurer
Feral offers a hand to signify the truce and to seal whatever deal they just made, then leads the way back to the kitchen.
After her moment of assessment, Death Otter shrugs and waves Kiehn to follow.
"She's back this way."
She guided Kiehn through the church back towards where Marks had been trying to save...then hide...the dead woman.
"So, FCC Marshall huh? Sounds like a pretty cush assignment. What's Garvey got you hanging out here with us lowlifes for?"
"She's back this way."
She guided Kiehn through the church back towards where Marks had been trying to save...then hide...the dead woman.
"So, FCC Marshall huh? Sounds like a pretty cush assignment. What's Garvey got you hanging out here with us lowlifes for?"
Rubberneck
First Post
J.R. watches as D0 and Kiehn depart the kitchen,
"Sumpin abaht that guy isn't right, he's hiding sumpin and I have a bad feeling."
He waits around for a response then stands from the table, setting his plate in the sink. He leaves the kitchen and heads towards his cot. Once he's there he reloads his pistol and refills the half empty mag with a box of bullets. He slips out of his pajama bottoms and slides on his jeans and t-shirt and begins stuffing his belongings in a backpack in case he needs to make a run for it.
"Sumpin abaht that guy isn't right, he's hiding sumpin and I have a bad feeling."
He waits around for a response then stands from the table, setting his plate in the sink. He leaves the kitchen and heads towards his cot. Once he's there he reloads his pistol and refills the half empty mag with a box of bullets. He slips out of his pajama bottoms and slides on his jeans and t-shirt and begins stuffing his belongings in a backpack in case he needs to make a run for it.
CanadienneBacon
Explorer
Marks looked at the hand Feral stuck out and paused. He shook eventually, but it took him a beat to do it. Feral returned with Marks to the kitchen just in time to see Keihn trail after Otter out of the room.
Otter lead the way to the small office near the church foyer. Keihn didn't enter the office; instead, he stood in the doorway, gazing at the dead girl. He asked Otter how Esmeralda died exactly, when she died, what the wounds on her body were from, how the thrall was dealt with, and scribbled down answers on a cop-like pad of paper he pulled from a coat pocket. To Otter's query about being a marshall, Keihn replied, "Marks is one, as is Garvey. Thought you knew that? Goes with the territory, us being field agents. Marks didn't tell you? You should ask to see his badge. I'm surprised he didn't broadcast having it--he just graduated from training. As to whether it's a cushy job, well...I wouldn't describe responding to a 1 am phone call in the dead of the worst winter in history about an impending threat with a team of convicts 'cushy,' but perhaps having come from prison it seems so." His tone was dismissive.
Back in the kitchen, Bukowski surveyed the room's occupants. He kept close to his hard black plastic case. Thirty seconds after the sound of Keihn's and Otter's footsteps faded from the church hallway, Bukowski piped up quietly. "You're right to mistrust Keihn. He's dangerous. I tolerate him because he occasionally nets me good research intel. Or specimens, from time to time. But both the intel and the specimens have become less regular of late, while his demands have increased. Perhaps you feel similarly? Perhaps our interests coincide?" His tone was suggestive.
Otter lead the way to the small office near the church foyer. Keihn didn't enter the office; instead, he stood in the doorway, gazing at the dead girl. He asked Otter how Esmeralda died exactly, when she died, what the wounds on her body were from, how the thrall was dealt with, and scribbled down answers on a cop-like pad of paper he pulled from a coat pocket. To Otter's query about being a marshall, Keihn replied, "Marks is one, as is Garvey. Thought you knew that? Goes with the territory, us being field agents. Marks didn't tell you? You should ask to see his badge. I'm surprised he didn't broadcast having it--he just graduated from training. As to whether it's a cushy job, well...I wouldn't describe responding to a 1 am phone call in the dead of the worst winter in history about an impending threat with a team of convicts 'cushy,' but perhaps having come from prison it seems so." His tone was dismissive.
Back in the kitchen, Bukowski surveyed the room's occupants. He kept close to his hard black plastic case. Thirty seconds after the sound of Keihn's and Otter's footsteps faded from the church hallway, Bukowski piped up quietly. "You're right to mistrust Keihn. He's dangerous. I tolerate him because he occasionally nets me good research intel. Or specimens, from time to time. But both the intel and the specimens have become less regular of late, while his demands have increased. Perhaps you feel similarly? Perhaps our interests coincide?" His tone was suggestive.
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