Frags And Field Exercises

Shanty Town -  -- Crude constructs made out of wood, metal, bits of car and whatever else is available crowd the area. The smell of unwashed bodies mixes with the stentch of bodily waste that runs down the gutters. A broken water main, which carries fresh potable water, appears to be the only clean drinking source. One trail runs off to the East, winding its way through the shanty town to what appears to be a market.

A single building stands out from the rest, seemingly out of place in the bleak environment. --

All's quiet around the shanty town, or at least through most of it. The Angel's Trumpet, as is normal, is rather loud and rowdy, perhaps even more so than usual tonight. The door opens and closes at erratic intervals as people arrive and leave -- some of the departures more violent than others, of course. Of particular note are a group of about ten rather grubby men emerging all at once, talking and laughing roughly.

Sheppard is wandering about, Ash at the ready. He doesn't really seem to have an objective, just wandering around.

Well, it -was- quiet, anyway. As the men start to move away from the bar, toward Ritter's Market, it becomes more readily noticeable that one in particular seems to stay toward the center of the group, and the group seems to stick fairly well in cover as much as they can. It all becomes largely academic after a few moments, though, as a bullet, nearly silent, zips into the tightly-packed group.

The man from the group's center slumps over, badly wounded but clearly not dead. "Inside! Get him back inside!" one of the others shouts roughly. Two of the others start moving him back toward the building. The rest, well, they arm themselves and start in the general direction the shot came from.

The very perceptive might catch a small, shadowy figure moving away in that direction.

Sheppard continues to move around the area, not seeming to care about the bullet or the running armed men, Ash's just out and ready.

"THERE," one of the men calls, pointing straight at that figure -- with a handgun. Two others follow suit, though they seem to be having difficulty spotting what he's pointing at, at least at first. "Don't just -stand- there, you fuckin' morons, GET 'ER." The rest move toward the direction indicated, staying generally out of the line of fire of their comrades.

That shadow? It pauses only for a split-second before -dashing- for the nearest alleyway, all semblance of stealth abandoned in the obvious need to flee. That... would be Kes, dressed down in faded gray and black, a bandana even tied tightly over her pink hair. As soon as she breaks cover, of course, the men moving after her pick up the pace on their pursuit.

After all, she's just a girl, right?

Sheppard continues to move along on his way. When comes to an alleyway he stops though, looks down it, and then moves into it. A moment later and he pops his head and Ash back out, taking a moment to aim at the man at the front of the pack, he lets off a burst.

To say that a hail of bullets tears through Shep's target isn't far from the truth. In fact, it probably doesn't go far -enough- in describing the sheer amount of carnage inflicted from that one salvo. The man doesn't even have time to stop before he dies, simply slumping over mid-step and tumbling to the ground in a bloody mess. That mess is made even bigger by the fact that his body keeps tumbling for a few steps' worth of space -- momentum is funny that way -- before coming to rest against the remnants of a section of chain-link fence.

The slim, shadowy figure, otherwise known as Kestrel, swarms up and over that fence with no problems, despite her short stature, closely followed by the aforementioned corpse hitting the fence. The other four men after her manage to not trip over their fallen comrade as they continue their pursuit, up and over the fence and out of sight down an alleyway, amid various exclamations of surprise.

That leaves the three with handguns, who all break for cover, firing at Shep as they do.

Sheppard takes off running down the alley after he fires off his first salvo. He gets clipped by one of the handgun shots, but it doesn't seem to slow him down in the slightest. The big Solan powers towards some refuse a good ways down the alley, taking cover behind it and raising Ash towards the entrance to the alleyway.

The handguns outside the alleyway all go quiet when Shep disappears from view, the men wielding them apparently not being overly keen on leaving their -own- cover to hunt down a man with an assault rifle. Several seconds into the lull, a concussive blast goes off in the direction that Kestrel and her four pursuers disappeared in. It's more than easily identifiable -- that, friends, is a frag grenade. A couple of surprised cries follow the detonation.

Sheppard waits for a moment, but as none come back out to follow him, he moves back towards the alleyway's mouth, poking Ash and his head out to take a shot at where one of the men at least /had/ been in cover, before popping back into his own cover.

Make that two bloody, pulped messes to Shep's credit tonight. There's a pattern forming here, a pattern that the two men left out there have definitely picked up on. They hunker down in their cover, only raising their gun hands to fire blindly -- all for the slim hope of keeping Shep pinned down.

A bit further away this time, another frag grenade detonates, sending debris flying in every direction.

"Yah could give up 'er somethin', yah know," Shep calls out as the bullets go wide, moving out of the alley and into cover in the street.

"Fuck you, asshole!" is called back to Shep. It's a classic, and requires nothing more, really. These two, however, look as if they're going to give the comment a little extra zing in the form of flying lead. Both of them peer up and out of cover this time, but duck down again as a third frag grenade goes off, a bit further away this time.

"Fuck this shit, man, I quit," a different voice -- the second man -- says, before he gets up and flees, holstering his gun as he does.

Sheppard /smiles/ at that, taking aim at the running man, he shoots at the man's back with Ash, letting her speak her soothing words of death to the other man.

Nothing like killing a bunch of mofo's to make one's day.

"Holy shit, son of a mother-!" the fleeing man exclaims as bullets zing all around him. He throws himself flat behind the burnt-out remnants of a building, and crawls away. He might just be crying. The man still there, however, pops off a shot at Shep.

Nothing else explodes, in any case. Aside from a single pistol shot, the distance is all too eerily quiet.

Sheppard takes the next shot in the shoulder, "Sunnovabitch!" he states as he gets up. He runs full tilt at the man, sending Ash's butt straight for his face.

"Shit!" is the man's oh-so-witty response at the incoming Solan. He manages to dodge the gun's stock, and whips a short blade out from his sleeve. "Nice piece," he snarls as he steps in and takes a swipe at Shep with the knife. "I'll kill that sneaky little bitch with it when I'm done with -you-."

Still nothing in the distance -- only silence.

Sheppard brings Ash up to block the knife, but it isn't quick enough. The blade sinks into Shep's kevlar and...either does nothing, or doesn't slow the big Solan down, "Mah turn, sausage fucker," Shep replies, swinging Ash at the man's gut.

The man with the knife just laughs, easily sidestepping the swing at his gut. "Is that all you've -got-?" he taunts, giving a 'come on' motion with his hands. "She's so dead. Betcha they caught her." Another swipe is taken with the knife. "Betcha I know what they're doin' to her..."

Sheppard easily blocks the blow, "Bet yer life 'at 'ey didn't, asshat," he replies, sending Ash for a blow to the man's head, before he swings her around, steps back a pace, and lets out a burst at the man's stomach.

Well, either way, it was a good bet -- just not for the poor sot with the knife. He's knocked halfway senseless by the blow to his head, and then messily shredded by automatic rifle fire. Somewhere in there, the knife drops to the pavement with a small, metallic 'ting' that's all but unheard amid the sound of the man's body crumpling to the pavement.

And still, nothing from the distance.

Shep kicks the dead guy once or twice after he goes down, switching out mags on Ash as he glances around, "Yo, Birdie, 'eard some boomin' goin' 'round, thought Ah'd drop by an' say 'ello,"

No comment seems to be forthcoming from the peanut gallery. Notably, nothing else explodes, either. It's as quiet as quiet can be after a firefight like that -- everyone's either dead or hiding. As it should be.

"Fucktards," Shep states, moving off in the direction where the explosions were last heard from.

Over that damnable fence, down a series of twisty little passages, all alike... it's actually really -easy- to follow the carnage. It would appear that frags were placed at key points along the winding alleyway, and that these poor schmucks were purposely led down this way. There's actually part of a tripwire left behind at one of the blast sites. There's no bodies to speak of until the third blast site, where three shredded corpses lie. The fourth is a little further along, a single pistol shot in his head along with some frag damage. But still, no Kes.

"Little birdie, the tank's 'round, ain't no body else," Shep calls out as he keeps moving along, following the carnage.

"...The fuh?" Kes asks, peering out from behind a turn in the alleyway. Her speech is muffled, and it's easy to see why -- she's got a loop of wire coiled up and held between her lips, and a frag grenade in one hand. Rifle across her back, pistol nowhere to be seen -- probably back in her pocket. She looks surprised, to say the least. "Whashup?"

"Jus' turned three fuckers with peashooters inta swiss cheese," Shep replies, looking at himself, "Oh, an' Ah'm bleedin'. What 'bout yew?"

Kestrel blinks, takes that wire, and coils it up neatly. She pockets it and the grenade, then starts to straighten, but doesn't quite get there, instead leaning heavily against the wall. "Me too," she admits, wincing, and favoring her left leg -- now that she's out in the open, the bloodied, improvised bandages are pretty easy to see. "Frags ain't 'zactly th'best fer traps, but all I could do on short notice. Cut it too close." She squints suspiciously at Shep. "So why're ya out 'ere? Jest happened'a be takin' a walk 'r somethin'?"

"Was inna neighber'ood, saw a sniper shot an' 'bout ten guys take off after the sniper," Shep replies, "Yer the only one Ah knew 'oo 'ad a sniper, an' Ah felt 'at field testin' Ash was a good idea, so Ah gave it a go,"

"...Didn't need no help," Kes says, then sighs, putting a hand to her forehead. "Was doin' alright, an' now ya went an' got yerself shot up 'gain, all on my 'count." She wrinkles her nose, and limps over to where Shep stands, frowning up at him. "Course, I'm th'one what fragged m'self, so..." A wry smirk is given at that.

"Little Birdie, the tank 'ad /fun/ tanight. Don't go tellin' me yer complainin' 'bout mah fun, are yah?" Shep asks, /smiling/ a touch.

Kestrel chuckles and scuffs a foot -- or tries, anyway. That left leg's not cooperating so well. "Naw," she admits, then frowns just a bit. "Jest... eh. Got somethin' ta prove, I guess." A listless, jerky little shrug follows.

"What, 'atcha don't need the tank 'round?" Shep asks, "Ah ain't sayin' yer not good Kes, but eight guys? 'At's even pushin' it fer me,"

"'At's what frags's for," Kes points out, shrugging. "Hells, m'so good, I even got m'self." An attempt at a chuckle is made there, and she rubs a hand through her hair and slouches against the wall again, weight taken gingerly off her injured leg. "Tryin' ta prove I ain't a fuckup," she says, scowling at her feet.

"Kes, yah ain't," Shep replies, "Ain't it enough comin' from me?"

Kestrel swipes a hand across her eyes, and scowls again. "Should be," she replies, with a sigh. "'Cept yer th'one I keep 'bout killin' cause m'stupid." A sheepish little grin and a shrug are offered. "Ain't worried 'bout me, Shep. I know where m'goin' when m'number's up..." Her expression goes pensive at that, studying Shep. "Eh... wanna go home? Kin talk better 'ere," she offers, shrugging. "An' patch us both up, too."

Sheppard nods, "Aye, 'at sounds good," he replies, slinging an arm around her, "An' don't yew ferget, yah ain't a fuckup, 'ese bitches we killed? 'Ey're fuckups."

"Naw, 'ey're jest dead," Kes replies, shrugging. She eyes Shep sidewise. "Don'tcha go walkin' too fast, ya big dumb goon. M'all gimpy 'ere. Again." A short snort of laughter follows that does nothing to camouflage the fact that she -is- leaning on him heavily. "...Didn't kill 'im, did I?" she asks then, again scowling as she starts to limp homeward.