Bungle In The Sand Jungle


Saul, Franky, Yahweh, Iona, Ridley, Nazareth, Karen

Title Bungle in the Sand Jungle
Scene Synopsis Our 'heroes' witness a merchant being ambushed and interfere.
IC Date 8 February, 2194
OOC Date 28 July, 2009
Logger Iona

Wasteland: SH-6/I-45 Intersection

The relatively small four lane State Highway 6 junctions here with the behemoth Interstate 45, which has twelve lanes total. The huge cloverleaf intersection is frequently used as an ambush point by raider bands hoping to hit passing caravans, and NGAF patrols can sometimes be seen scouting the area prior to an expected shipment arrival. The two overpasses of the old super-highway have both collapsed, necessitating a jump off and back on for those traveling to or from New Galveston. In the light of day, the pair of collapsed overpasses look oddly like a smashed ribcage. It's clear, cool, and breezy.

It's mid-afternoon on a bright, cloudless day. The asphalt on the old freeway is hot enough to fry eggs on, and the dusty ground isn't much better. From the northwest, a rising plume of dust in the distance indicates the approach of a party. To the southeast, from New Texas City, a few figures are making their way towards the intersection as well, though they're tiny enough to be mere specks at this range.

Nazareth can be sighted in the same general direction as the party arriving at the intersection from New Texas City. A neatly-arranged, but worn backpack rests easily on his back, giving his posture a slight hunch as he meanders down the road on his lonesome, spear in hand and used as a make-shift travelling stick.

An outlandishly dressed young lady in what might be a modified blue vault outfit makes her way along the unpaved land beside the highway. She's drinking a little water from a canteen as she goes, alone, eyes ahead… she's essentially just following the road where it goes, and doing little more than that for now, though the blue-clad form continues to make her way generally in the direction of New Galveston.

From the opposite direction of the city in the distance, a figure clad in leather makes his way along the intersection, "All I'm sayin', Frank… is that I just wish the goddamn raiders hadn't showed up in the first place, because then I at least could've boned Lacie and you could've gotten her hairy pal…" he pauses in his rambling, before taking a distracted look around the immediate area, the mirrored lenses of his glasses providing some protection from the glare, "Where in the flyin' fuckin' seat of heaven are we, Franky?" he looks to his companion as he voices the question, dragging the shades from his face.

A tall young woman is coming from the west, almost surely having come from Alvin. A cigarette dangles from her lips, though it's not lit. The girl straightens her leather jacket and peers out from behind her glassy green goggles, keeping an eye on the horizon. Long fingers slowly creep into her jacket pocket and retrieve a switchblade, which she flicks nearly habitually; blade in, blade out, blade in, blade out… the noise of the blade syncs up with her footsteps as she trudges along.

Saul comes from the direction of New Galveston. The man is following the road, keeping to the dirt at the side. His pace is plodding, slow, taking him ever closer to the wreckage of asphalt. His only protection from the sun, at this moment, is a hat. One that's presently doubling as a fan.

Franky lulls his head back as Yahweh brings up the topic of Lacie again. "Could be worse…could be like Johnny and…uh…what's his face?" He asks, giving a look to Yahweh…the rising dust gets a look. "You seeing this?" He states, unslinging his rifle just in case.

Karen continues her march, looking up to notice various other travelers… and she becomes curious. Lots of small groups moving around right now, and this gets her moving for the small 'ditch' area off the side of the road, finding it a good place to stand and watch everyone coming and going. She's curious about it, at least.

Yahweh's pulled from his bitching by Franky's comments, slipping the shades back over his eyes and staring hard in the direction of the rising dust. "Dave. Laser-Dave. Could be like the tribals too, but still, man… she was good looking for a knight. Now we're stuck out here in the middle of God-don't-even-know-where, and there's folk coming now. Probably, given the dust, a good number of 'em." he begins to move off to the side of the highway, waving Franky with him, "C'mon, pal. We didn't survive only to get dusted by some random son of a bitch."

Nazareth just keeps on keeping on. Various trinkets, tied loosely to his pack, jingle and jangle as he walks, eyes set upon nothing terribly in particular.

Saul's dim gaze rises up across the expanse of land, narrowing on the puffs of dust in the distance, the specks, and then those other figures scattered across the area. He doesn't stop moving toward the junction, but he's prudent enough to set hat back upon his head and remove the SMG slung over his back.

Franky stares hard at the dust too, but fails rather comically at seeing people. "Huh." He shrugs, looking over towards Weh before following after. A hand moves back to his satchel and produces a bottle for the man, "Stop stressing over that broad." Handing off the bottle as he takes a more watchful gaze about his surroundings. "We are in bum fuck Egypt aren't we?"

There's a brief pause from the platinum blonde, though not long enough for her to remain a standstill target. Her knife is left flicked out as she continues on her trek, seemingly attempting to somehow avoid the two parties. Iona's lips purse faintly as she considers her surroundings, mumbling something akin to, "Fuckin' asshole Wasters."
By now, the party to the northwest is getting close enough to be made out easily. It's a large wagon drawn by two brahmin, with a merchant sitting on its front end with the reins in his hands. The wheels of the wagon are throwing up the copious amounts of dust. A single guard walks alongside it.

The figures to the southeast are getting closer, as well. Those who have spotted them already will notice that they're too far away to make out well, they're definitely carrying weapons.

Karen watches for a few seconds more, then decides most of the groups are just idly traveling… or else are big enough that she does not necessarily need to go near them. And with that in mind, she steps back out to the area closer to the highway, and resumes her march…

Yahweh takes a swig from the bottle that Franky hands to him, giving his head a brief shake, before handing the bottle back. Looking from one group the other, his brow furrows pensively, and for once he shuts up. At least for a few moments. "Hey, Franky… that stuff tastes like shit. Now maybe it's because I'm so damn optimistic, but does this look t'you what it looks to me?"

Nazareth's goggled eyes shift upwards at last towards the overpasses ahead of him, then to the merchant group a ways to the right of them. Rather non-chalantly, he continues on, adjusting his course only slightly to take him on more of a direct path towards the merchant's wagon.

"Uh oh," Iona says to herself. Then she adds, "I have to quit talking to myself. A doc who talks to herself is going to lose business." She starts to move in what she /thinks/ is a very sneaky crouch, her eyes darting to the east of her. A deep breath is taken and the quaint gait is kept up. Iona's goggled eyes stare between the ground to make sure her path is clear, and the various blip-dots of people in all directions.

Franky stares out by the overpass and almost has to do a double take before he crouches down. Grabbing the bottle and Yahweh along with it. He brings a finger to his lips followed by some militaristic signs and pointing in the direction of the collapsed overpass.

Saul's eyes flick between the armed figures in the distance, the dust of the caravan afterward. His fingers flick over his weapon, checking it several times before the man drops into a crouch. From there he walks, slower, making attempt to keep low as he proceeds toward the wreck of the highway.

Yahweh finally shuts his mouth and reaches down to grip the handle of his SMG in one hand, while the other reaches over his back for the head of the crowbar there, pulling it over and clutching it in his other hand. From his crouch next to the other man, he looks from the overpass, to the armed men in the distance, to the caravan, before shaking his head. "Y'just wanna leave?"

The merchant caravan is closing the distance between itself and the collapsed overpass, which means it's going to have to take the long way around soon to avoid falling into the huge hole in the road. Which it does, once it gets to the old freeway exit to SH-6. Meanwhile, the three figures moving in from the direction of New Texas City are getting nearer - near enough for those who have spotted them to make out their guns and combat armor.

The merchant's guard, who has noticed the many people approaching from different directions, raises his weapon and reaches over to nudge his boss. The merchant glances warily around at those he sees. "'ey! All of you, you'll keep your distance if you know what's good for you!"

Karen is not particularly worried by the threat, as she's probably not near enough to hear it even though she is in that general area. She sees the gathering around the merchant however, and that gets her attention. "Huh… and here I thought highway banditry was done away with centuries ago." She must not be entirely in touch with recent history, watching this situation from a distance, no weapon raised or immediately readied.

Nazareth doesn't break step, but does offer the courtesy of bending his arms to hold up his hands to the merchant, showing he is unarmed aside from his walking spear. All the same, he shifts a little more to the side to give them a wide berth.

Saul, at request, makes no further progress. Instead the man rises up, slowly getting to his full height once again. His weapon is lowered, loosely held at the ground. There's a slow rise of one hand to note that the order was heard, nothing more than that.

Iona attempts a nod as a peace offering to the merchant, and tries to sidestep away from that group. She keeps her knife out, though the blade has been palmed in one of her hands. Her eyes are more fixated on the eastbound path — namely those with the combat gear and guns. She pauses for a brief moment to scope out a good exit strategy, pulling her goggles off to rest atop of her dreadlock'd head.

Franky tries his best to look between the three parties before giving Yahweh a shrug. "Fuck man…Some of those people are carrying some badass shit…could off us easily." He thinks for a moment, looking up to see people coming out of the woodwork at the merchants request. "What the fuck is this shit, stay low I'll have a better look." At that he attempts to sneak his way into a better spying position.

Nazareth's eyes flit back and forth now as the figures at the overpass begin to stir and the details about their person become more obvious. He could do something to warn the merchant and his guard, but decides against it. Rather, he makes a sudden break west, but does not particularly increase the pace of his footsteps.

To ambush or not to ambush? Iona seems reluctant to turn her back on the group coming from the east, so she starts backing up towards where she came from — skirting around the edges of the path which she took. "Damn. I have to find a way around without spooking this merch or getting something metal embedded in me." Her eyes scope out the landscape once more, her hand still clutching the blade she withdrew earlier.

As the merchant caravan comes at the closest point to the overpasses, there's a sudden burst of weapons-fire from above, where a group of raiders has been waiting in ambush. At the same moment, Franky's sneak-attack catches the leader, who was in the process of aiming, by surprise.

"The fuck—!?" He screams, his shots knocked somewhat off course by the unexpected injury. The other raiders manage to launch a barrage at the merchant and his guard, however…

The merchant is severely hurt in the crossfire, but his guard suffers no ill effects, moving to fire back against the raiders. Of course, he doesn't know exactly who's who yet, and somehow he gets the idea that Franky is one of the people attacking his caravan.

As shots ring out all at once, Nazareth drops low and cuts north again. Having expected it, he does his best to stay low and attract as little attention as possible as he moves for the outer edge of the collapsed overpasses.

There's a long moment of deliberation on Iona's part before she hunkers even lower to the ground and glances to where the brunt of the gunshots are coming from. "Ugh, I think someone is down…" She mumbles to herself. With her knife still withdrawn, she starts to maneuver very slowly in Franky's direction.

"Hhhha." A rising chuckles is cut short and emits little more than hot from Franky's lips…"..Fuck.." Is that blood? A lot of damn blood! "Spence…they got me Spence.." Frank manages, whinching some as he manages to raise his rifle once more to fire into the group of Raiders.

When the first shots go off Saul's own weapon rises, arcing away from the merchant caravan and up toward the raider's again. A burst of gunfire follows, shells slamming into the asphalt. The following shots encourage Saul to get down, dropping behind the best rubble he can find as another few shots are rattled off with a grunt.

The raider leader takes another hit from the wounded Franky, cursing even louder. Still, he has no idea where the gunfire is coming from, and assumes it's the merchant's guard. "Die, scumfuck!"

One of the raiders DOES notice Saul firing at his leader, however, and the other spots Iona, training his weapon on the woman with a gleeful grin. "It's a dame!" And his buddy spots Saul unsuccessfully plinking away at his boss, as well, which merits a return shot in the man's direction.

In the ensuing crossfire, the raider leader's automatic weapon shreds the mrechant's guard to pulp, while the merchant himself is too wounded to do much but look stunned. The raider wielding a shotgun also manages to land a shot on Iona, who hasn't done a thing to him.

Nazareth scurries along hurriedly, too hurriedly as he nears the edge of the collapsed roads. One boot doesn't find a sure spot and slips, sending his pack to jangle loudly. He curses under his breath but tries not to let it deter him, rather grasping quickly on ledges to heft himself up.

Cue the red mist! Iona gets nowhere near Franky before she's taken a bullet to the side. The leather jacket she wears does little to deflect the searing hot metal from puncturing her flesh, the bullet lodged deep within. A puddle of blood starts spreading rapidly beneath Iona, and she murmurs, "Fuck…" before deciding to play possum. She just lies down on the ground and plays dead as best she can.

A silent grin forms on Frank's face as he lands another hit on the bastard with the grease gun. "I got you now, baby.." He mumbles, working the bolt of his rifle before taking another shot at the leader. Less fire on the raiders is some cause for concern, but at least he's not getting at shot anymore.

"Oh, fuck you." Bullets coming in Saul's direction prove a distraction from his initial target, the man pivoting around his little heap of rubble to angle his weapon toward the man gunning for him. The ratty looking SMG shakes as it delivers another round toward the raiders.

The leader of the raiders emits a victorious whoop at the death of the merchant's guard, now taking aim at the unlucky merchant instead. Unfortunately for him, things are about to take a turn… the rest of the raiders continue obliviously attacking, one of them noticing noises coming from Nazareth's direction. The one that had shot Iona a moment ago begins to scrabble down from the overpass, giving out an exultant cry of, "Whoo! The woman's mine!" However, as he closes on her 'prone' body, his brows furrow and he cautiously raises his weapon again…

The lead raider totally bungles his attack, shooting a nearby rock. One of the bullet ricochets right back and hits him. One of the other raiders manages to kill the hapless merchant, after which he turns to aim at Nazareth.

At that moment, more weapon-fire rings out, along with a loud cry: "Cease and desist, by the order of the New Galveston Armed Forces!"

Iona peeks toward her assailant very briefly, her eyes widening. "Sorry, you're not my type!" She says before quickly rolling to face him. In an arcing motion, up goes the knife right into his crotch. Even she has to wince at that, before beginning to crawl away.
Iona manages to knife the shotgun-wielding raider in the family jewels. He screams and teeters backwards, trying to get away from the crazy biatch, his face turning several shades of green and white. "FUCK… AH! My… my…" And with that, he slumps over momentarily on the ground.

"Argh!" Franky grunts as his shot causes his rifle to slip and wack him in the gut. "..fucking thing.." He groans, as he lays there for a bit as he gets the wind knocked out of him. He coughs a bit then spits out some blood, "Fuck my life."

Yahweh finally arrives on the scene after some gunfire's been issued from all sides, probably motivated by his only friend's well-being. As he nears, he's clutching his SMG and waving it wildly toward the nearest and most raidery-looking son of a bitch he can find. Apparently, that's the one that just got stabbed in the scrotal area. "Fraaaaaaaaaaanky!" he hollers, before releasing a burst of automatic 9mm bullets from his gun.

Saul's response to even more gunfire is a simple one: "Shit." A look toward the direction of the new combatants, back at the current. His gun is slapped once, fist coming down to the side of the weapon as if to berate it for such poor performance. He makes one frustrated grunt, then sets back to shooting.

"Who the fuck!?" The raider leader shouts as he's once again surprised by attacks from a new direction. He whips around to face the onslaught of the NGAF troopers, pointing his weapon right back at them with disgust. "Here's a drill for you, army boys!"

Somehow, Yahweh manages to completely miss the prone body of the guy on the ground with automatic fire, an amazing feat of failure. The castrated raider has at least enough momentum to strike back now, though, as does the fellow that Nazareth totally missed. The last raider focuses his fire on the NGAF troops along with his boss.

The raider leader goes down amongst a hail of bullets, discouraging his men and making all shots made against them a bit easier because of their distraction.

Once the shot at that glowing in the storm went wide, Nazareth was blessed enough to be struck in the side of the torso quite squarely by his attacker. But enough of that, the wily doctor brings his peacemaker up, fueled mostly by adrenalin, to hammer away a shot that still missed, but at least is in the ballpark.

So much for crawling away. Looks like /someone/ is a tad cranky due to unwanted advances. "And y'know what, ya fuckin' perv? The next time you wanna ask a girl out on a date, maybe you'll think with your brain and not yer fuckin' dick!" She cries out, slashing at the man's groin viciously.

A hand is raised as he hears his named called, "Yahweh?" He yells, waving him over with a bloodied hand before he collects his rifle from the ground. He takes a few second to slow down his breathing, he labors through the cycling process before he notices the raider Iora is shanking directly in the johnson. Firing a round at him after leveling the business end at him.

"Son of a bi-" Yahweh's clipped by a hail of buckshot, but miraculously stays on his feet. Wounded, he still makes his way toward the shotgun-wielding raider stretched out on the ground, the crowbar in his other hand swinging viciously toward the poor bastard. "This is what happens when you hit me or my friend! Stupid son of a bitch!" and then another swing at his head! "Crack your fuckin' skull open!"

The swarm of lead certainly makes Saul's life easier. He only makes a small grimace when the lead raider is turned into swiss cheese, but his attention isn't there for long. If Saul's raider isn't going to be paying attention, he might as well catch another bullet.

Out of the three raiders left, one is currently on the ground bleeding heavily from the groin and being beaten on with a crowbar. The remaining two continue to take shots at their targets; one at Nazareth, the other at Saul, now that he's gotten his attention back by shooting at him. The NGAF troopers continue to rain hell on the raiders in the meantime.

Two of the raiders are seriously hurt. However, one of the NGAF troops accidentally runs into his squadmate, causing him to turn the attack on the unfortunate bloke.

Nazareth is struck once again, peppered this time in his shoulder. He wastes no time whatsoever before dropping and quite simply.. Vanishing into a pocket of rubble.

"Oh, hi!" is said cheerfully to Yahweh, although it's clear that her injury is taking a toll on Iona. She yanks her knife forcefully away from Billy Bob's crotch… coming away with… giblets. Briefly, a disgusted face is made before Iona attempts to plunge her knife into the side of the man's head. "So much for thinkin' with yer brain I s'pose."

Franky turns his eye to the raiders getting mopped up by the Galveston boys, seeing as Yahweh and that one lady were giving him one hell of a beating. "YARRG!" He cry's, popping off a round at the raider with a pistol. "Eat shit!"

"How ya doin'!" Yahweh says nonchalantly to the girl near him, casting an appraising, if not entirely acceptable - given the situation - glance at her, before he slams the crowbar down toward the downed's raider's skull, "Damned if I'm tired a'gettin' shot at with shotguns." then once again toward the man's ribs, "Folk call me Yahweh, what's your name?"

Saul is aware of the raider advantage shrinking quite rapidly, though it doesn't seem to be the first thing on his mind. What does concern him is shooting the son of a bitch who isn't dying. He mumbles something to that effect, raising his gun again, pulling the trigger and sending another bullet to visit the man.

With Nazareth having somehow disappeared into the rubble, the raider that had been trading fire with him just sort of stands there dumbly, trying to figure out where his quarry went. Meanwhile, the rifle-wielder is about to take another potshot at Saul… before he notices the increasingly dire odds, and decides to book it instead, turning tail and fleeing. This doesn't stop the NGAF boys from kicking off another barrage of metal at him, though.

And the guy on the ground? Well, he finally gets back to his knees. His shotgun's out of ammunition, but he aims a hard kick at the damned girl who keeps stabbing him.

Oof. Kicks do not feel good, especially when they connect to an area that's near a gunshot wound. Iona makes a feeble swipe at Billy Bob's head once more before she's down on the ground, holding her side. "Name's Iona. Pleasure's all mine," she grunts out through bared teeth.

Saul's weapon remains in the air a second longer, as if his raider friend might leap up and resume shooting at a moments notice. When he doesn't after a few seconds the SMG lowers, sinking carefully to his side. Body is checked for any wounds, and finding none the man begins to sink slowly downward.

"Good t'meet'cha, can guarantee all the pleasure isn't yours!" Yahweh flashes a quick grin - miraculously possessing all his teeth - toward the woman, though it quickly turns into a wince once he notes the gunshot wound. "Hey, ya fuck!" he slams the crowbar down on the man again, "You're interrupting my damn conversation! Just… fucking die already!"

The three NGAF soldiers give a short-lived cheer as they mow down the last standing raider, then begin sauntering over to where Yahweh and Iona are brutally beating the last of the outlaws to death bit by bit.

Speaking of which, the raider gives an incoherent gurgle and aims another kick at the bastard repeatedly bashing him with a crowbar.

Amazingly, the NGAF troops fail to notice there's still one raider left… which gives him ample opportunity to slip out while his friend is being pounded to death.

"Good t'meet'cha, can guarantee all the pleasure isn't yours!" Yahweh flashes a quick grin - miraculously possessing all his teeth - toward the woman, though it quickly turns into a wince once he notes the gunshot wound. "Hey, ya fuck!" he slams the crowbar down on the man again, "You're interrupting my damn conversation! Just… fucking die already!"

Who knows how long Ridley has been scoping out the fight, hidden behind a rather large chunk of highway conrete. She might've been here the entire time, deciding wether or not to pick off the straglers and get her some good loot to sell. Regardless of that, that raider that's trying to make a discrete getaway does not go unnoticed. Pretty easy to pick out a raider when you've been around them enough. Having that certain nasty smell of burnt tires, cheap liqour, broken dreams. Slipping her semi-automatic free from it's holster, she takes a bead on said raider, allowing him to come into decent firing range before pulling the trigger.

Yahweh grunts in pain and annoyance as he's struck by a kick from the near-dead man, before giving his head a brief toss and then slamming his crowbar home once more. As the man becomes a corpse, he offers a few kicks to the ribs for good measure, still shaking his head.
Raider Derelict - 490 has left.

Iona is still on the ground, panting for breath as Yahweh finally dispatches of Billy Bob. She puts her hand over her side and tries to staunch the bloodflow, frowning a little bit. "When most guys try to tear you a new hole, they don't do it like this," she muses to herself with a quiet chortle. "Thanks for the assist, man. I'm a doc, so if you're needing help… as soon as I pull this bullet outta my spleen, I'll be glad to see to ya."

Saul braces himself against his pile of rubble with a mutter, his fingers lifting his weapon, checking the thing of with several clicks and pops. His attention is, mostly, upon the marines that have arrived to bail the group out of trouble. There is a glance at what remains of the last raider, but it's just a fleeting thing.

The three NGAF troops shoot a last glance in the direction of the raider that's turned tail, but none of them look inclined to pursue him. They do notice Ridley, because of her shot, though; one of them trains his gun on the girl, while the other two, one of which seems to be in charge, let their weapons lower… marginally. The one aiming at Ridley shouts, "Who are you, girl?"

The leader advances on the two standing over the dead raider and frowns. "Bastard raiders are horrible for trade. You there, kid. Who the shit are you, and what are you doing here? You two aren't from some other raider band that was tryin' to get the spring on these guys, are you?"

Yahweh lifts his SMG and fires off a single round in the direction of the fleeing raider, before just waving his other hand dismissively and looking to the NGAF men. "I don't even know where the fuck I am. Or who the fuck any of these people are. 'Cept that one." he gestures with the crowbar hand toward Franky, a ways back, "And you look like the type of folk who know where we can get medical attention. The second best kind of attention."

It should be noted that Ridley is nowhere near aiming at the NGAF that currently has a weapon drawn at her. "Whoa whoa! I ain't yer enemy here, bud. Hold on fer a sec." she yells back while firing another shot at the quickly retreating raider. When her shot misses, she scuffs a boot at the ground. "Goddamnit!" she swears, before finally holstering her weapon and facing the marine the properly. "Jest tha kinda gal that thinks another dead raider in tha Wastes a good raider, ya dig? Ain't tha kind that's gonna mess with ya or yer troops. Ain't stupid."

"We don't want anymore trouble than we've already had!" Iona cries out, putting her bloody hands out. "We need medical attention — we're not raiders. We were just minding our business…" She tries to convince, letting out a feeble cough.

Saul seems thankful that the troops have decided to question others first, the man taking opportunity to take one long swig from a flask at his hip before he's pushing himself to his feet again. It's a slow motion, the man raising his arms into the air, palms out as he approaches the leader and the other two combatants. "S'true," He remarks, "Tried to stop the poor bastards from getting robbed."

"Hmph," Grunts the trooper currently training his shotgun on Ridley. After a moment, he lowers it grudgingly.

The leader of the three troops frowns at Yahweh, and then at the others. "Yeah, well, I dunno. You can come get medical attention in the city, all right. And you won't mind staying under Force watch 'til we've cleared you. Lots of fuckin' raiders in these parts, and we hang 'em all." He smiles thinly. "Of course, if you're cleared, you'll be free to go immediately." He glances over to Saul, and then at Ridley. "You two can come in as well. Won't hurt. Unless you're outlaws, of course."

Yahweh glances down at the corpse near him, smashed and beaten by the crowbar in his fist, before looking back up to the patrolman. "You won't get any fight from me, at least… or Franky, for that matter. But you mind if we clean up a bit around here? Ammo's running scarce these days, and I wasted some trying to help out that merchant before he got dusted." As he speaks, he slips the crowbar into its makeshift sheath over his shoulder, and lets the SMG drop and hang from its sling.

Ridley shakes her head, standing up fully and letting the desert colored hide cloak wrap around her person. "I'm jest yer garden variety merc, siree. An jest happened ta be passin by an such." she says, moving slowly toward the group that's starting to gather. She glances from dead raider bits to those that're probably responsible for their crowbar-induced deaths. She almost looks happy about that to be honest.

"Wait!" Iona cries out suddenly, reaching up to take her goggles off. "I'm from New Galveston… you might know one of my parents… my dad's a merch, my mom's a doc, like me. Last name's Temple. Only family with the last name in all of New Gav." Iona furrows her brows a bit in the hopes that perhaps one of the men might recognize her — or her namesake. "Ma's a doc at the hospital."

A shrug from Saul. "I love trips." His assent is a monotone rumble, hands lowering to push his weapon into it's proper place at his back. His arms cross after, head arcing over toward Yahweh, back to the marine leader after. No vehement objection from him.

Just a shadow, off to the side, down the road. An approaching shadow in a helmet and somewhat expensive leathers, the mark of the Brotherhood not nearly so evident on this uniform as her normal armor would be. But Lacie isn't exactly above board right now, so she sticks to the shadows, out of the way, boots bringing her just close enough she can listen to what might be going down at the scene without interfering… and study those there. Her eyes particularly narrow at at least two faces, circling the outside of the group to get a clearer view of Franky and Yahweh.

The squad leader considers Yahweh's request before shrugging. "Yeah, go ahead and go through the scumbags' shit if you want. I'm not touching them. Don't want the fleas." He holsters his weapon, although his hands stays close by. When Iona speaks up, he glances over at her and shakes his head. "Doesn't sound familiar."

One of the men clears his throat, though. "She's tellin' the truth, corporal. I know her folks." The leader considers this then slowly nods. "Well, hell. We can't have a New Galveston citizen going without medical attention. Give the ladies a hand, boys. Oh, and the rest of you are free to come, too." He looks between Saul and Ridley, and lastly at Yahweh. "I'd suggest clearing out before any of those assholes' buddies show up."

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