TEINAR > Wastelands

Until You See the Whites of Their Eyes [Nix, Nephebro!]

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Lion:
Of course disabling them from where they were was a long shot at best. So Chance was right in that assessment. Banning too flipped off his mic and nodded to Kiers as he shuffled off to the side. “I’ve got your six,” he thought back to him and threw his rifle up onto his shoulder, aiming it steadily at anything that might suddenly give movement.

Thankfully the only thing that was moving was that clever little water ball that Kiers made. Banning would have opted for wasting a grenade, but this was a much better use of their resources. And without a hitch Banning ducked when the mine exploded and a sliver of shrapnel buried itself in the dirt not but two inches from his right foot.

“Nice one! He seems like a real chicken shit. Hopefully this spooked him enough,” Banning thought to Chance. Because he wasn’t buying that son of a bitch’s act for a second. Banning kept his gun raised and steadily crawled back to his initial position. One mine down, and a dozen more to go. Maybe more. He’d give the little shit  one more chance to comply. If he didn’t it’d be all guns blazing.

A flick of the mic and he hollered, “You hear that, Biscuits?! We can do that again if you don’t disable that field immediately and let us speak face to face! This is your final warning.”

Nix:
Shit. Shit! Goggles was panicking. His whole defense system was designed to intimidate and take out beasts and the hasty brawn with no brains type that the Wastelands was littered with. Think! What could- oh.

Oh that might actually work.

"Ok. I'm disabling the mines." He said as he pulled out some parts he'd been messing with earlier. He didn't need the Pilots taking them all out. If he managed to get through this encounter he would still need those defenses for other things.

Of course now anyone in the area was aware their were Pilots baring down on him which had its upsides and down sides. "I'm not letting you in till you state your purpose here." He could easily reactivate the field if they refused to comply. There was also the matter of stalling for time. He already realized that keeping them out entirely was impossible.

He could do this. He just had to stay calm.

Lion:
The speaker bellowed with a fading interference after he replied confirming that they were clear of the threat of that mine field. For the time being anyway. Banning was pretty sure that wasn't going to last. Just as soon as they got up to go in Biscuits could just as easily set him off. It wasn't like the little scamp inside wasn't completely justified in having all these defenses set up. Other than making the mistake of calling the Wastelands home, it was clear he was used to dealing with nasties on a regular basis.

Such preparation could be complimented at any other time.
Banning just didn't want to get blasted to fuck-all any time soon.

Which brought them full circle back to their current issue. Telling this guy why they were here and just how much of it ought to be the truth. Banning glanced up to Hyperion and Anhur, then to Kiers. The guy didn't need any more bullshit. The sooner they got in there the better. "We're here on reconnaissance, Biscuits," he hollered back through the mic. "Strange signal out here in the wastes. And our scanners indicated it coming from here. We didn't come here to fight, but I'm not going to let you kill either of us."

He scooted up to his knees, peering just around to the front of the doorway of that hovel. "That's the truth of it, Biscuits. Whatcha say? Let us in and talk?" Banning glanced back to Chance, and he pulled the rifle from his head, holding it by the strap. Boots scraped against the soil as he got to his feet and held both arms raised. No doubt the cameras out here would spot him.

"Look, as a show of good faith, huh?"

"Banning!" Hyperion growled. What a fucking idiot! Hyperion stepped forward before his Pilot turned on him, shaking his head as if to say 'Don't'.

Hyperion's throat rumbled low and his head lifted lightly to see the horizon. And the dust clouds that seemed to be billowing up from there. It couldn't have been a storm. Could it?

nephero:
What the ever loving fuck was Lockhart doing? Chance tensed as the Pilot Royal stood, his rifle hanging loosely by its strap from raised hands. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a pressing weight on his mind, the overwhelming presence of his draconic partner steadying him from doing anything too brash like running out and dragging his officer right on back into the rocks.

"Wait," the voice that was both not his own and yet all his own said, and Chance glanced out of the corner of his eye to look in the direction Anhur's head had turned, spines raised and bristling black against the copper-red rocks. At first, all Chance saw was distant dust storms-- nothing out of the ordinary for this festering pit. But that wasn't quite right, was it? The movement seemed off, his hud readings showing that the present wind conditions should be blowing in another direction entirely. So why did that look like it was getting closer?

Well, fucking shit. Chance flicked the safety and shouldered his own rifle, jerking his head at the jagged outcropping of rocks.

"Ambush formation," Chance thought back to the scaled beast, and Anhur's lips pulled back to expose metallic fangs in an altogether unpleasant imitation of a smile. Anhur pulled his port-pocked wings close to his body, and slithered along the spires of crumbling rock, letting the dust coat his patchwork black and metal scales to better match him to the surrounding environment. Between his spines, the dirt, and the angular shadows the rocky spires created, when Anhur settled in it was near impossible to tell he was even there. Which, of course, was the general idea.

Chance glanced up at Hyperion for the barest moment, before turning back towards Banning, his own hands raised up and clasped against the back of his helmet as he made his way out after his commanding officer. He half expected the earth to explode out from beneath him, but he supposed it was a good sign that it didn't.

Still, that was the exact opposite of how he wanted to go out, and being right on top of it all was making him shrivel right up into his core.

"We really just walking in naked, sir?" he inquired, his thoughts muted as if he wanted to whisper even those. Not that he really had much choice; Pilot Lockhart was in charge, after all, and orders were orders. They were here for a reason, and Chance supposed diplomacy worked as well as anything else. Didn't mean he had to like it one bit, though.

Nix:
His scanners were picking up that dust cloud in the distance, it was the sort of movement his system was designed to detect, he usually didn't have to worry about anything flying in on him. Raiders. Couldn't be sure whose people they were but this presented two options.

He could leave the Pilots out there, rearm his system, and let them take care of each other. No doubt the Raiders were coming on account of him calling attention to the fact that it was Pilots attacking him. That was only a few moments ago though. Which meant someone was still watching him if they were rolling out this fast.

It was a good option. He wasn't sure he trusted that this Pilot just wanted to talk, and even if he did there was a lot at stake for a defector. However, the Pilots would likely survive the encounter and one side would be forced to retreat. If the raiders retreated he doubted the Pilots would continue to extend a diplomatic approach to the situation. And if the Pilot's retreated they would no doubt return with back up.. plus he was sure whichever raiders were on the horizon would feel Goggles 'owed' them for their assistance. It was a pretty lose lose situation. But one was definitely worse.

Besides, he had a contingency plan that might work on two Pilots, but probably not more than that.

Fuck. Goggles pressed a button and a large metal box sprung up from the ground and dust. His voice came out of the speaker again as the Pilots stood there. "All yer weapons in the box. You can have em back when we are done."

It was his standard practice for people out here who wanted something from him. No one was coming in to his place hot.

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