1055/Log
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| Log | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 20 June 2017 |
| Location: | Unknown |
| Synopsis: | Summary needed |
| Cast of Characters: | Lady Blackhawk, Little Blackhawk
|
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Tampico cooks this time of year, and the city's not done great as of recent anyway. Well hell it's been turning into a shithole since Zinda first came here, All the same the pair were here on business. They needed to see a man about a job, dude wanted humanitarian aid run down into Venezuela and that's up the Blackhawk's alley. Only, well this is Mexico. So when that PC-12 comes to a stop, Zinda makes note to double check her pistols. She's good enough to bring a rental car around for Elliot after she's locked up the plane, but she makes a note to remind the girl. Pistols and carbine, because...this is Mexico.
It's a short enough drive at least, and the hotel at least looks nice enough. Armed security outfront, which is an encouraging sign. "Alright honey, stay on my wing and watch your corners. This should be fine, but you never know."
Through lobby and everything seems chill enough, Elliot and her carbine get the eyeball but nobody moves to stop them. "Howdy darlin, we're here to see Jimenez?"The receptionist blinks, before nodding and with a button push the elevator beyond opens with a ding. So far so good..
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
Elliot's gaze isconstantly wandering. She walks close to Zinda, a step back and a step to her left, the carbine across her back and pistol holstered at her side. She settled on the trousers today. Given the amount of leering Zinda gets in that exceptionally short skirt of hers it might be pretty easy to see why the younger blonde abstains.
As the pair step off the elevator Elliot takes a deep breath. She shifts her hips slightly, her gear rattling slightly as she moves. As tends to be the case the young pilot is silent in favour of continuing to watch everything thaat hapepns with a critical, attentive gaze.
Zinda is the only one who would be able to see the tension. It's slight but in a girl as calm as Elliot? It'slike sending up a flare. She's probably ready to jump at the first sign of danger.
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda notices, she's tense but it's burried. White gloved hands half slung in her tunic pockets as she leads the way, cool as a cucumber as far as the world is concerned. The elevator dings to a stop, and she leads the way out with a roll of the shoulders and a little yawn.
It's a lovely modern reception area, but it's deserted. Which is, wierd right? Zinda slips foreward with a raised eyebrow, peering around. "You like Mexican food honey, this goes chill we could swing by and snag something to eat."The rooms beyond are barred by a single heavy door, but the place is cool and as quiet. Glancing over her shoulder absently as the elevator shuts with an audible ding.
"Darlin, check the desk for me. You see a switch or something that controls the door, I don't like this gettin all wierd and shit."
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
"Mexican food? I mean. I don't think taco bell is real Mexican. I'll try it, sure..." replies the tiny blonde who eats like an entire sports team. She blinks afew times as she's lead through the reception area.
"Yeah... this is all wrong. Downstairs is full of people. There's a sign, but..." Elliot is shaking her head as she heads over to the empty desk, swinging around to get behind it and up nextot the large blue swiveling chair with the extremely high back. She reaches around beneath the table quietly.
"I found the switch for buzzing people back to the offices. Let's see..." Ellie's left hand goes to the pistol on her belt. Discretely. Blue eyes dart around the room over and over, in circles. Her right hand settles over the button and presses on it, hard.
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
*-BZZT-* and the door swings open, and nothing happens. Zinda shares a look with Elliot, before advancing slowly. "Keep tight Little Hawk", as those hands finally drop and through the doorway she goes. There are cubicles, with chairs and computers and all the rest. Like every other office, lights on, screen savers saving. The only irregularity is a coffee mug overturned in the middle of the floor, the dark puddle surrounding it still steaming. Then comes a noise from an office off to the right.
Like Zippers and trash bags, which is entirely enough to key Zinda up. Pointing wordlessly towards the door, before motioning for where she wants Elliot to stand. Glancing carefully back towards the exit, ju-..everything goes out the window.
Dark brown fatigues, ski-mask, Colt Commando held casually under his arm. He just pops the door open, and there's a moment of mutual surprise. A scream from behind him, a low murmor of voices. That M-16 starts to come up, and Zinda's hardly idle. It's amazing, it's like something out of a text book. That right hook comes out fast, blasting the fucker's head into the door jamb with an audible -CRACK- of leather gloves against his face. It's enough for Zinda's off hand to grab ahold of that Commando's handguard and pull, stripping him of his rifle. "Bandits front!"
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda launches into motion, cracking a skull against one of the doors and Elliot is unslingign herrifle. Her first instinct is to take cover againsst the desk- minimizing her visible profile if not acually providing any protection from being shot.. The carbine is up and she's sighting down the barrel. Deep breaths. Remember your training...
Zinda will quickly discover that there's little Elliot is better at than twitch reflexes. She stops just shy of putting a bullet into the man that Zinda just disarmed but by the time his companion has his M16 leveled on her? A pair of holes appears in his chest, blood spatteringthe wall be hind him.
Elliot is just staring afterward.She has the hallway covered. Anyone approaching will risk being shot if they show any hostile toward Zinda or ELlot but the girl herself? She's already starting to lose it a little bit. The fact that she is still present enough to keep Zinda covered is a testament to her training because if she put the rifle down she'd probably start to cry.
At least Ellie is a crack shot. Somehow. When did thath appen?
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Shouts as Zinda flips that Commando around, and one hand chops the charging handle before click-click. She eases foreward as the first guy is still going down, putting another round into his skull before he can hit the ground. The fellow standing behind him with his mask half rolled up to permit a smoke, he never had a chance. Zinda dumps a string of automatic gunfire from shoulder to the top of his head before making entry, and well it's easy to get distracted. "Bandits two!"
The meeting table is strewn with discarded knives, blood and gore. A camcorder on it's tripod lies beyond, and then theres the mass of flesh on the table that once had a name and a face. There are indeed three other fellows left. One in a butcher's apron, who was apparently filling a bodybag with another limp form. The other two are not quite so distracted, one in a bright blue berett is already swinging his rifle towards Zinda and off to his side the third is hurriedly unslinging his rifle.
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
Number three doesn't stand a chance. Elliot fires off a few more shots, one of which catche s im in the throat and sends him to the ground in a spray of blood as his rifle drops. "B-bandits two...!" The other gunment spray a barrage of shots at Elliot and then girl is cowering beneath the desk. Bullets tear up the wood and send shreds of paper everywhere. The smell of smoke follows as the computer is smased and then an electrical surge sets it and the papers next to it on fire. Now there's smoke filling the meeting area where Elliot's been pinned down.
It gives the girl a chance to get a breather which is the last thing she needs. The blonde might be a good shot but it's no substitute for experience and as bullets scream around her she curls up a bit to minimize her profile and returns fire in a way that doesn't actually manage to hit anything at all.
Of course, most firefights are primarily wasted ammunition.
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Zinda is, well Zinda. She seeks neither cover, nor does she give pause. She dumps the rest of that magazine in a barrage of hot lead, enough to send number two to the ground with a scream. The last one's just about changed his target, but it's already way too late. She tugs those pistols free, and looses three in his upper chest. Then...everything is still.
"Hey Sweet pea, you alright?"Zinda's not looking, instead she's distracted with verifying those kills. "Reload, and start towards the elevat. Slow and steady, we don't know this is over for sure..."
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
Coughing answers Zinda's question as Elliot slowly emergs from bheind hte desk. She appears to be uninjured though it seems the smoke inhalation may have left a mark. She spends a few seconds more coughing, perspriation on her brow. Elliot is pale in the cheeks but she manages to reload smoothly anyway, purely on reflex.
"I-I'm-" The coughing starts up again but Elliot quickly shakes her head. "I'm fine. S'just smoke." She moves toward the elevator as ordered, keeping relatively low to the ground. "D-do the sprinklers not work or...?" She braces against the wall beside the elevator and covers Zinda while she waits.
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
"This is Mexico honey.."is Zinda's only immediate answer, falling in line behind until they're back to the elevator. She punches the basement parking button, and the doors sweep shut. "Well, that was unpleasant. Still up for Mexican?"because this is Zinda, folks. Casually exchanging one magazine for a fresh one, whilst the elevator gets going. "You're doing good, just keep it up. Out of the parking garage, we have another two hundred yards to the car and then we're home free."
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
"M-Mexican. Haaaa..." Elliot exhales with a wheeze as the elevator is descending. She is continuing to sweat, leaning against the elevator wall with an elbow. She's clearly about ready to double over, curl into the fetal position, and start sobbing or pass out. Somehow the girl does neither and instead watches the door to see what will emerge. A frozen span of time while she considers what could occur at any moment. "I'll be fine," she promises in a very quiet voice. "Don't worry. I've got your six."
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
Ding, the elevator lurches to a stop. Zinda peeks her head out for a glance around, and proceeds to holster her iron. "Carbine at low ready, play it cool."and out into the open, there are parked cars and a few folks in business suits with cellphones but..everything -seems- cool. Zinda even goes so far as to pause to light a cigarette, but the pair of not only not challenged? They're largely ignored all the way back to the rental car, where Zinda again pauses to glance about before finally flicking that cigarette aside and getting inside."Alright, all sectors look clear."
She cranks the engine over and, yeah ok. Like nothing ever happened, except it totally did. Except for the smell of gunpowder and burning PCBs that lingers in the car. "Now then, you alright? No jokes, let me know how you're feeling ok?"
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
"H-hey, wait!" Elliot's response is to check the outside of the car. She searches it quickly for an explosive (presumably) and does not actually open her own door until she's donne checking. At this point Elliot is hyperventilating, leaning hard onto the cadoor where it meets the side of the car.
"I-I'm. I'm o..." Elliot leans forward and then she squeezes her eyes shut for a second. Then the girl climbs into the car and leansback, looking up toward the ceiling. "I feel like I'm going to vomit. Or- I don't know... I just." She grimaces and shakes her head.
"Let's just get out of here and find something to eat."
- Lady Blackhawk has posed:
"Just breathe, your body just dumped all the adrenaline it had. Thats called panic, thats what this is."Zinda replies cooly, offering over a hand to hold if desired as she sweeps the car back towards the airport. "You're ok, you did really good. This is just the adrenaline, it's a chemical it isn't you. This is perfectly regular and normal for the very first time, you did everything just right."Reassurance and explanation, Zinda's surefire cureall.
- Little Blackhawk has posed:
Elliot responds well to that sort of treatment.. The nuance of reassuring voices andtrite doubletalk is hard for her to follow, bu clinical explanation and knowledge? She comprehends that, checks it against what she knows, and apparently accepts it as she starts to calm herself. Elliot reaches out andtakes the offered hand, closing her head as she leans her head back against the seat. "I-" There's a brief pause. "Need to start a killcount."