Crash Site of the Yellow Jacket

[from here]

"Shit-SHITSHIIIIIIIIT!" Jean exclaimed as he was losing altitude fast, and could already feel the palm trees bending and snapping under the drop ship as he was coming closer to a halt! "Hold on tight kid!!" He screamed back to Tobin, unaware...

He felt the ship grinding across stones, the oppressive jungle overgrowth, before the ship finally slammed into a tree, splitting it down the middle!

---

Smoke and alarms continued to ring, as the 'Lockheed Fire Prevention System' self activated, and sprayed water down upon everything flammable, with the recorded laugh of the 'old man' as it rained down on the flames and caused smoke to rise and fill the cabin and bay. Thankfully, the cockpit windows were smashed, and the aircraft's hull was already torn apart enough to keep the unconscious Jean from choking to death on the fumes. The water, also healed his minor injuries, the Scardian winking his eyes as he found himself drenched in water and sweat from the humidity. "Shit..." he coughed, undoing his belt, only to find that it wouldn't release due to the plane's landing gear not being down. Whose dumb decision was that, anyhow? He thought, before thinking the buckle could have been jammed from the collision. Even so, he whipped out the survival knife from his boot and cut the cordage holding him down, not that his bulky strength couldn't rip it out on his own.

"Kid? (coughs) You... back there?" Jean covered his mouth, slowly peeling himself from his seat and made his way to the bay. Upon nearing the ladder down into the cargo hold, he already felt his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. He could see daylight... which meant either the hatch was open... or there was some serious hull damage.

Ah shit... He thought to himself, and slid the ladder down, feeling the oppressive heat and jungle humidity flowing through the gaps of the hull before he even saw them.

Turning around, the man stood with a heavy heart...

The Cargo hold was derelict. The cargo, the 1500 lbs of it was all lost and probably scattered to the winds upon the descent. As was Damian Lockheed's things... and Damian, Tobin Lockheed, himself. He grimaced, punching the nearby wall, denting it. "FUCK!"

Jean sighed heavily, panting in the heat as he brought himself to mentally deliberate the situation.

Okay... alright Jean, listen up... you've crash landed on Shi no fuckin' Shima... with the CFO/CEO's son, who isn't supposed to be on this flight, in the first place! Not only that, the cargo is all but gone and destroyed, the Dropship is totally inoperable with the structural damage its got. Damian either blew out the back when everything fell to shit and is dead, or wandered off when you were unconscious. How the fuck do we plan to get out of here? Its beyond me, Jean, I've never heard of anyone who actually managed to get off Shi no Shima actually ALIVE, JEAN! If we somehow pull ourselves out of our asses and actually get off this island, you, I am going to be a dead man! For if Damian Tobin Lockheed is...was that thunder? No, if we try to leave without confirming he's dead... Shit... Ugh, the kid's smart, probably walked out since the smoke and fire. Okay... lets assume he's alive. How do we get off this crazy island?

He paused, and looked up, back to the bridge. "Well... I guess one thing at a time. Get bearings... try to raise help, find the kid... then, well, we'll see if we survive step one." he says to himself as he climbed the rungs upward once more.

---

It was getting too humid, so Jean stripped off his hat, letting his sweaty black hair fall out, tucked away the scarf in case he needed to make a splint, and removed the leather and fur lined bomber jacket, tossing it to the side.  





His muscular frame sneaking out of his bomber jacket, the t-shirt still felt too much, but he'd wear it for now. He felt the Mark XII Scardian Royal Air Service Revolver against his left armpit, and knew it was loaded. The antique was provided by Lockheed pilots as a defense weapon, given some of the cargo they carried was some valuable material, while other times dangerous. You could never be sure when a bandit, pirate or monster would show up to fuck up your day after all:



It carried a not too common cartridge, so he stocked up on all the ammo he could from the weapon's locker affixed to the wall outside the cockpit. He unlocked the bolt and padlock with his card key and physical key, before opening the mesh, blackened Scardian steel door to reveal a rack with a pair of Chesluk Industries 'Asgard' Field Assault Lightweight Battle Rifles (FALs) with a lock bar across them.



He unlocked the weapons, leaving the one behind whilst applying all the little upgrades to the one which he'd be carrying around the jungle:



A deadly automatic weapon, accurate in single fire, and chambered a more available cartridge, a 7.62 x 45mm Izhevesk cartridge that used to be used by DarkSEED and much of the Izhevesk Military. Unlike the .432 Special used in the six shooter Lockheed provided, this rifle which he also provided to his dropship staff was probably going to be a lot more useful. If the rumors of Shi no Shima were true, he'd hazard a guess that the rifle's munition would be a more likely sight than the antique revolver. He'd also bank there being more .44 as well, which would be good for the magnum strapped to his thigh:



It was his father's pistol, when he was in DarkSEED. He also had his own 'fist' for melee in case something needed a swift punch to the face, as well as his survival knife:





As an extra precaution, he took one of the first aid kits, and the survival kit which included a long machete like combat/survival knife which he then strapped to his shoulder holster:



He checked out the blade, swinging it around to get used to its weight. "...might be useful for the vegetation." He says to himself, and sheathed the blade upon his left shoulder.


With that done, he collected as much ammo he could and packed it away in a rucksack which he slid onto his back, and then slid down the ladder one handed, his left hand holding the foregrip of his rifle as he slid down. Without the bomber jacket and hat, it felt a lot cooler. He cautiously took a few steps out the back of the hold, using his free hand to cover the setting sun beating down over his eyes... to see the Rough Rider and the dragon still tearing it up in the skies. "Fuck... what the hell was that shit that Kit tossed? It broke through my ship like acid..." he spat, before looking around for signs of Tobin.

He saw plenty of tracks in the mud, but none too fresh or human. A large trench also carved through the jungle where the craft first touched down, and supposed checking up there was the natural place to see if Tobin fell out. Even so, he needed to get his bearings before it got too dark. He didn't want to think about... the fauna of the infamous Shi no Shima... Even so, he kept a watchful eye for the flora as well as he hiked his way up the trench...

(From here)

Barb made her way through the forest with ease, she was a veteran of the island's terrain after all. She found herself taking a risk, entering the 'Green Hell Zone' where this airship crashed, given the numerous dangers from giant lizards and man-eating plant life to simply things that would just kill you for the hell of it.

She came across the muddy slope of the river and could see the belly tracks of a particularly large Crocodilia... the large impressions of its tits left in the soft mud told her the creature had to be a little over a year or so old, maybe three. Great... those half mortal cannibals are in the area... best keep my guard around the water... Barb thought, and proceeded up the bank and towards the landing zone of the smoking ship. It was derelict, as she expected, not that they could leave with it in tact anyway. She observed the scene... and could make out human boot prints from far away, but was unsure if they were from survivors or that 'crazy old man' deeper inland.

She kept low in the high grass... and then proceeded into the muddy clearing, to see what could be salvaged.

Jean found the point of impact in the jungle perhaps a football field away from the landing zone, or more appropriately the 'crash site'. He looked around. "Kid? Damian? Sheesh... Tobin!! You out here buddy?" He called out a few times, feeling like an ass as he felt like a walking target out here. Damn it... I can't find any signs of him. I hate to think the worst, but... with all the cargo gone? He must have blown out the back with it... poor bastard's probably a pancake or skewered on some Godsforesaken tree... He thought, trudging his way back to the crash site for the time being. He needed to check around the front of the dropship, and then fan himself out in a circle around the immediate area, just in case Tobin Lockheed had miraculously survived and was just wandering about the site.

He was at the top of the hill over looking the crash site, when he noticed the figure with a spear. The setting sun was upon his back, obscuring him whilst revealing the figure ahead.

"Hold it right there!" He called out to the caped figure, their back lined up in the cross hairs of his scope:



The weapon was tucked and shouldered and he could easily take them out, but he wasn't some blood thirsty killer. "Turn around, slowly, and drop the weapon! Do it, or I'll shoot!" He warned them, keeping his superior distance and position. I'm surprised to see another human, in all honesty. Are there really natives on this crazy Island? The cape and the spear looks crafted from animal parts. Long hair... Best be on the safe side, if they become hostile I'll have no choice but to retaliate.

Jean Maverick wrote:Jean found the point of impact in the jungle perhaps a football field away from the landing zone, or more appropriately the 'crash site'. He looked around. "Kid? Damian? Sheesh... Tobin!! You out here buddy?" He called out a few times, feeling like an ass as he felt like a walking target out here. Damn it... I can't find any signs of him. I hate to think the worst, but... with all the cargo gone? He must have blown out the back with it... poor bastard's probably a pancake or skewered on some Godsforesaken tree... He thought, trudging his way back to the crash site for the time being. He needed to check around the front of the dropship, and then fan himself out in a circle around the immediate area, just in case Tobin Lockheed had miraculously survived and was just wandering about the site.

He was at the top of the hill over looking the crash site, when he noticed the figure with a spear. The setting sun was upon his back, obscuring him whilst revealing the figure ahead.

"Hold it right there!" He called out to the caped figure, their back lined up in the cross hairs of his scope:



The weapon was tucked and shouldered and he could easily take them out, but he wasn't some blood thirsty killer. "Turn around, slowly, and drop the weapon! Do it, or I'll shoot!" He warned them, keeping his superior distance and position. I'm surprised to see another human, in all honesty. Are there really natives on this crazy Island? The cape and the spear looks crafted from animal parts. Long hair... Best be on the safe side, if they become hostile I'll have no choice but to retaliate.

She could hear someone, a survivor, calling out for someone, Damian? Tobin? Two other survivors or just one? She didn't know, didn't care. She quickened her pace across the stretch of mud, shaking her head. Great place for this thing to land. Its in the middle of the river bank, or, it will be come wet season which isn't too long from now, the earth's already becoming like peanut butter... Barb noted, as it took, even with her years of knowledge of the Island and her trained body, several seconds to cross the muddy path leading up to the drop ship. If she had a gun, like the 'Man of the Moss' as the lizard folk called him, she would be less worried- well, not that she had much practice. Just a quick check of the hold, in and out, or hide if he comes back this way. Hurry Barb, hurry...

Barb was about to enter the dropship, her mouth already dropping. Shit, nothing?! She mentally screamed at the empty space, before she heard the man call her from behind.

----
Fuck me...

Barb had never once felt so... exposed, as she had till now. She was impressed by whoever it was behind her though, he was able to move around in this muck better than she could. That's brand new gear for you... I doubt it be as effective in another two years on this cursed mudball... She thought, complimenting the man whilst also placing doubt in his own skills. He just crashed on this island, he knows about the rumors, I could probably get by pretending I'm a native and at the first sign of freedom I can take off... still, its been a while since we had a new person who didn't die in the fall... She told herself, as the man demanded she turn around.

"Hah...." she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. She did NOT drop her weapon, no way in hell she would do a thing like that in the Green Hell Zone, but she did comply by turning around in slow, but forceful manner.

Boing-oing~



Barb's massive chest bobbled as she looked up at the silhouette of a tall, muscular man on the top of the hill. His discerning features were obscured by the sun, but he did in fact have a rifle trained on her... Barb glared at him, a scowl upon her face, her grip on her spear which she held stabbed into the mud beside her was firm. Her Beijionese eyes glared up at him, waiting for him to take an action.

Jean focused on the figure as they turned around, but they did not drop their weapon. He admitted to himself, he did hesitate to shoot, as he didn't like the prospect of being alone on this island with no intel, but if the natives of the island could understand that he came in peace it would make everything-



He pulled his head away from the jiggling bosom which had completely filled his scope! He looked down at the woman, several yards away, blinking before looking through the scope once more, inspecting her.

She looks... native? But not really. That shirt and thong are definitely not hand made, but the armor that looks almost like ancient Scardian, and she's wearing the tattered remains of a skirt of sorts? He pondered as he pulled his head away from the scope again, keeping the weapon trained on her. "I said drop your weapon!" He called out to her, firmly pushing the stock against his shoulder once more.

Barb would not do such action as she was commanded, and instead, spoke up:

"You shouldn't be raising your voice..." She said in a calm, somewhat cynical tone, which surprised her. She hadn't spoken to a person in years, so speaking with one now felt almost awkward, or like breaking a rule. "That's the first rule of living on Shi no Shima..." She added, grinding her spear into the mud. "Second rule is to never be inches away from a tool that could be used as a weapon. So if you want shoot me, aim for my chest, I'd rather die with my skull in tact." She sighed, and slowly turned towards the trickling creek nearby that would later become a major river- the one she mentioned prior, during the wet season. I don't see any of the scaly bastards... not even the giant iguana's which like to roam these parts... good, good...

...She just blew me off.

Jean felt sweat roll down the back of his neck, his authoritative presence weakened, or non existent at this point. "Urgg... well, she understands me at least..." he mumbled under his breath and saw her looking off to the creek. He ignored what she was looking at, not wanting to be caught off guard, he took this moment to advance whilst still aiming his rifle at her, in case she got hostile. She told me to stop shouting, and its a rule... Gods above, there are actual PEOPLE on this damned island?

He got down the hill, out of the sunlight his weapon shouldered and aimed at the woman's chest. He was just out of her spear's distance, judging roughly from the position of the spear and its height. "If you won't relinquish your weapon, I request that you keep it to yourself or have it lowered." he says to her. She was fairly tall, still shorter than himself, maybe 5'10 or so, give or take. "Now, can I trust that you wont skewer me if I lower my weapon once you've lowered yours, lady?" he asked gruffly, sweat rolling down his forehead.

Jean Maverick wrote:...She just blew me off.

Jean felt sweat roll down the back of his neck, his authoritative presence weakened, or non existent at this point. "Urgg... well, she understands me at least..." he mumbled under his breath and saw her looking off to the creek. He ignored what she was looking at, not wanting to be caught off guard, he took this moment to advance whilst still aiming his rifle at her, in case she got hostile. She told me to stop shouting, and its a rule... Gods above, there are actual PEOPLE on this damned island?

He got down the hill, out of the sunlight his weapon shouldered and aimed at the woman's chest. He was just out of her spear's distance, judging roughly from the position of the spear and its height. "If you won't relinquish your weapon, I request that you keep it to yourself or have it lowered." he says to her. She was fairly tall, still shorter than himself, maybe 5'10 or so, give or take. "Now, can I trust that you wont skewer me if I lower my weapon once you've lowered yours, lady?" he asked gruffly, sweat rolling down his forehead.

She could see him approaching, given the angle of his shadow, and could see in the corner of her eye that he 'thought' he was out of her spear's reach. She smirked, before frowning again. With a swift movement she yanked and swung the spear out in a windmill like motion, the bottom of the spear dredging up mud which flung into the man's eyes whilst the shaft slammed into the side of his gun, knocking it from his hands towards his left. She took one, long, step in and soon had the spear's tip nuzzled against the nape of his neck! He thought her spear was out of range, but when she had stabbed her spear into the mud earlier, she hid its actual length from him, giving herself a literal edge.

"No." she says to him.



"Rule three- trust no one." She advised. "Don't dare budge a muscle... the blade of this spear is fashioned from a basilisk beak. One scratch, you'll be turned to stone... but you'd make a fine statue." She says, and glanced him over.

He was taller than her, probably over 6 foot. He had short black hair with short parted bangs, shaved sides. He looked in his mid to late twenties? "Now, this is how its going to go, now I've disarmed you. You're going to do as I say and not give me shit about it, or I turn you to stone, got it? Good," she began, her hand reaching out, grabbing the revolver he had hanging under his armpit. She could feel the heat radiate off of him, he wasn't used to this kind of humidity it seemed- then again, crash landed.

"Who are you? What country you hail from? What's today's date, year included? Why did you call me 'lady'?-" she asked, whilst keeping her eyes out for trouble. "-Step into your cargo bay, now, make any movements I don't like you're dead, continue to answer my questions and keep your hands where I can see them." she continued, prodding him towards the cargo bay, so they would not be exposed, yanking the revolver from the armpit holster.

Jean did not expect the disarm, nor the strength the woman held. Feeling his rifle leave his hands, thankfully not into the mud but now it swung off his hip, he next felt the tip of her spear against his neck whilst he winked his eyes of the mud. "Shit..." He grumbled, slowly raising his arms. What the hell was that? She knocked my gun out of my hands with ease! He grunted as he fluttered his eyes rapidly, her hazy form solidifying.



Attractive, if not for the stone-touch spear against my neck. Shit... now what the hell's with these questions? He asked himself as she pushed him towards the cargo bay of the Yellow Jacket. "Okay, okay I'm movin', sheesh Lady..." he says, before reflecting upon her questions.

"Who are you? What country you hail from? What's today's date, year included? Why did you call me 'lady'?-"

Why ask about being called 'lady'? And the date? He asked himself, before looking concerned, watching her take the revolver under his arm as he backed now into the shade of the cargo bay of his derelict ship. "Look, Lady, I'd call you by your name if you gave it to me, I ain't a mind reader." he began, before raising a brow. "Now, but I'll bite... I'm Jean Maverick, its Julius 10th, 2567. Now could I ask who you are and why you're so keen to skewer me?" He asked, observing her. He was pretty calm about the ordeal as a whole, waiting for an opportunity to counter if she did not willingly stand down. He'd have to resort to more drastic measures if she was still keen on prodding her stick against his neck however.

Jean Maverick wrote:Jean did not expect the disarm, nor the strength the woman held. Feeling his rifle leave his hands, thankfully not into the mud but now it swung off his hip, he next felt the tip of her spear against his neck whilst he winked his eyes of the mud. "Shit..." He grumbled, slowly raising his arms. What the hell was that? She knocked my gun out of my hands with ease! He grunted as he fluttered his eyes rapidly, her hazy form solidifying.



Attractive, if not for the stone-touch spear against my neck. Shit... now what the hell's with these questions? He asked himself as she pushed him towards the cargo bay of the Yellow Jacket. "Okay, okay I'm movin', sheesh Lady..." he says, before reflecting upon her questions.

"Who are you? What country you hail from? What's today's date, year included? Why did you call me 'lady'?-"

Why ask about being called 'lady'? And the date? He asked himself, before looking concerned, watching her take the revolver under his arm as he backed now into the shade of the cargo bay of his derelict ship. "Look, Lady, I'd call you by your name if you gave it to me, I ain't a mind reader." he began, before raising a brow. "Now, but I'll bite... I'm Jean Maverick, its Julius 10th, 2567. Now could I ask who you are and why you're so keen to skewer me?" He asked, observing her. He was pretty calm about the ordeal as a whole, waiting for an opportunity to counter if she did not willingly stand down. He'd have to resort to more drastic measures if she was still keen on prodding her stick against his neck however.

She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

After she exploded, then calmed down, and eventually revealed she was no longer a threat, Jean slowly removed the blade from her neck and then swiftly pulled his gun from her hand and his leg from around hers, taking a full step back. He spun the revolver around so the pistol grip was in his right palm, he pulled the trigger whilst holding the hammer, easing the hammer down slowly so it wouldn't strike the primer. He then spun the revolver back into his armpit holster, tossed the knife from his left to his right hand, and slid the blade back into the shoulder mounted sheath. "Just Jean. And, no. ADN Vanguard and Pilot, though I was born and raised in Cretu." he says with a soft smile, brushing away the flecks of dust surrounding the new hole in his shirt. Impressive reflexes... definitely a survivor. He thought, before placing his hands on his hips. "So, you really don't remember what a 'Cafe' is?" he paused, cocking a brow. "And the jungle does rain blood?" He smirked in an effort to be a little charming and try to ease the mood further. "How about a pre-packaged meal and instant coffee for a name, to start?"

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

After she exploded, then calmed down, and eventually revealed she was no longer a threat, Jean slowly removed the blade from her neck and then swiftly pulled his gun from her hand and his leg from around hers, taking a full step back. He spun the revolver around so the pistol grip was in his right palm, he pulled the trigger whilst holding the hammer, easing the hammer down slowly so it wouldn't strike the primer. He then spun the revolver back into his armpit holster, tossed the knife from his left to his right hand, and slid the blade back into the shoulder mounted sheath. "Just Jean. And, no. ADN Vanguard and Pilot, though I was born and raised in Cretu." he says with a soft smile, brushing away the flecks of dust surrounding the new hole in his shirt. Impressive reflexes... definitely a survivor. He thought, before placing his hands on his hips. "So, you really don't remember what a 'Cafe' is?" he paused, cocking a brow. "And the jungle does rain blood?" He smirked in an effort to be a little charming and try to ease the mood further. "How about a pre-packaged meal and instant coffee for a name, to start?"

Free of his intense humidity, closeness, and his blade, she watched him sheath his weapons and didn't lower hers till he put his hands to his hips. She gave him, lidded, cynical eyes as he tried to be 'humorous' with her, and she blinked blankly at her own statements being thrown back at her. "What do you think?" She asked gruffly, before his bait of... food. Real, sodium enriched, 25 year shelf stable food with crappy instant coffee made her eyes light up. I would strip naked for a cheese burger, of course I'll take a free meal and a coffee for my name! The woman thought, flustered, but not because of the context in her head, but the fact she was excited to eat something... not from this damn jungle for once!

"I won't say another word till you provide me with such a feast, Jean." She says, before adding: "However, this free tip- we may want to push ourselves a little deeper inside the Cargo Bay... and not linger for too long." She states. "Your dropship landed into an off season river bed, perhaps in a few days, the rains will fill the nearby lake, which in turn will fill this river. Your ship will be swallowed by the rapids of a dangerous river by then, and the seasonal monsters who live in this sinkhole have been preparing for the wet season and they are not a pleasant bunch." She warned.

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

After she exploded, then calmed down, and eventually revealed she was no longer a threat, Jean slowly removed the blade from her neck and then swiftly pulled his gun from her hand and his leg from around hers, taking a full step back. He spun the revolver around so the pistol grip was in his right palm, he pulled the trigger whilst holding the hammer, easing the hammer down slowly so it wouldn't strike the primer. He then spun the revolver back into his armpit holster, tossed the knife from his left to his right hand, and slid the blade back into the shoulder mounted sheath. "Just Jean. And, no. ADN Vanguard and Pilot, though I was born and raised in Cretu." he says with a soft smile, brushing away the flecks of dust surrounding the new hole in his shirt. Impressive reflexes... definitely a survivor. He thought, before placing his hands on his hips. "So, you really don't remember what a 'Cafe' is?" he paused, cocking a brow. "And the jungle does rain blood?" He smirked in an effort to be a little charming and try to ease the mood further. "How about a pre-packaged meal and instant coffee for a name, to start?"

Free of his intense humidity, closeness, and his blade, she watched him sheath his weapons and didn't lower hers till he put his hands to his hips. She gave him, lidded, cynical eyes as he tried to be 'humorous' with her, and she blinked blankly at her own statements being thrown back at her. "What do you think?" She asked gruffly, before his bait of... food. Real, sodium enriched, 25 year shelf stable food with crappy instant coffee made her eyes light up. I would strip naked for a cheese burger, of course I'll take a free meal and a coffee for my name! The woman thought, flustered, but not because of the context in her head, but the fact she was excited to eat something... not from this damn jungle for once!

"I won't say another word till you provide me with such a feast, Jean." She says, before adding: "However, this free tip- we may want to push ourselves a little deeper inside the Cargo Bay... and not linger for too long." She states. "Your dropship landed into an off season river bed, perhaps in a few days, the rains will fill the nearby lake, which in turn will fill this river. Your ship will be swallowed by the rapids of a dangerous river by then, and the seasonal monsters who live in this sinkhole have been preparing for the wet season and they are not a pleasant bunch." She warned.

He nodded at this, and ushered her further inside. "That's a lot of info for a free tip, Lady." he teased, before removing his rucksack and pulling out a field ration made by Lockheed, his employer's business:



It was being tested by the Beijionese military forces and thus found in all pilot ration stashes. He pulled out one that may have felt more at home with someone who hadn't likely had beef in her six year isolation... granted, with her bulbous mass bouncing with excitement for some high sodium food... he found it hard they didn't wither away. Lets not be a fifteen year old, act your age and make the damn curry ration. He thought. He pulled the contents out, slipped them into the bag with the flameless heater inside, poured water from his canteen into it, rolled and sealed the bag up and in moments it was inflating with steam. "It'll take a bit for it to heat up." he explained, sitting cross legged with his knees bent outward, ankles supporting his thighs as he sat in front of the inflating bag as he prepared himself one in case she got paranoid of him. "So... my ship landed in a river bed that crawls with monsters huh? Great..." He sighed.

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

After she exploded, then calmed down, and eventually revealed she was no longer a threat, Jean slowly removed the blade from her neck and then swiftly pulled his gun from her hand and his leg from around hers, taking a full step back. He spun the revolver around so the pistol grip was in his right palm, he pulled the trigger whilst holding the hammer, easing the hammer down slowly so it wouldn't strike the primer. He then spun the revolver back into his armpit holster, tossed the knife from his left to his right hand, and slid the blade back into the shoulder mounted sheath. "Just Jean. And, no. ADN Vanguard and Pilot, though I was born and raised in Cretu." he says with a soft smile, brushing away the flecks of dust surrounding the new hole in his shirt. Impressive reflexes... definitely a survivor. He thought, before placing his hands on his hips. "So, you really don't remember what a 'Cafe' is?" he paused, cocking a brow. "And the jungle does rain blood?" He smirked in an effort to be a little charming and try to ease the mood further. "How about a pre-packaged meal and instant coffee for a name, to start?"

Free of his intense humidity, closeness, and his blade, she watched him sheath his weapons and didn't lower hers till he put his hands to his hips. She gave him, lidded, cynical eyes as he tried to be 'humorous' with her, and she blinked blankly at her own statements being thrown back at her. "What do you think?" She asked gruffly, before his bait of... food. Real, sodium enriched, 25 year shelf stable food with crappy instant coffee made her eyes light up. I would strip naked for a cheese burger, of course I'll take a free meal and a coffee for my name! The woman thought, flustered, but not because of the context in her head, but the fact she was excited to eat something... not from this damn jungle for once!

"I won't say another word till you provide me with such a feast, Jean." She says, before adding: "However, this free tip- we may want to push ourselves a little deeper inside the Cargo Bay... and not linger for too long." She states. "Your dropship landed into an off season river bed, perhaps in a few days, the rains will fill the nearby lake, which in turn will fill this river. Your ship will be swallowed by the rapids of a dangerous river by then, and the seasonal monsters who live in this sinkhole have been preparing for the wet season and they are not a pleasant bunch." She warned.

He nodded at this, and ushered her further inside. "That's a lot of info for a free tip, Lady." he teased, before removing his rucksack and pulling out a field ration made by Lockheed, his employer's business:



It was being tested by the Beijionese military forces and thus found in all pilot ration stashes. He pulled out one that may have felt more at home with someone who hadn't likely had beef in her six year isolation... granted, with her bulbous mass bouncing with excitement for some high sodium food... he found it hard they didn't wither away. Lets not be a fifteen year old, act your age and make the damn curry ration. He thought. He pulled the contents out, slipped them into the bag with the flameless heater inside, poured water from his canteen into it, rolled and sealed the bag up and in moments it was inflating with steam. "It'll take a bit for it to heat up." he explained, sitting cross legged with his knees bent outward, ankles supporting his thighs as he sat in front of the inflating bag as he prepared himself one in case she got paranoid of him. "So... my ship landed in a river bed that crawls with monsters huh? Great..." He sighed.

Barb's eyes lit up at the sight of the box, and could easily read the words she had not thought to see in her foreseeable future: "BEEF CURRY".

She inched her way over to him, and then sat, Wariza, or 'w' style upon the surface of the cargo hold, with her hands between her thighs. She looked at the intriguing ration inflating, her chest excitedly jiggling from her rapid chest movements, her huffing and puffing. She glared up at him as he spoke, as if... he interfered with her favorite television program or something, and raised a brow. True to her word, she wasn't going to say a single thing till everything was finished.

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

After she exploded, then calmed down, and eventually revealed she was no longer a threat, Jean slowly removed the blade from her neck and then swiftly pulled his gun from her hand and his leg from around hers, taking a full step back. He spun the revolver around so the pistol grip was in his right palm, he pulled the trigger whilst holding the hammer, easing the hammer down slowly so it wouldn't strike the primer. He then spun the revolver back into his armpit holster, tossed the knife from his left to his right hand, and slid the blade back into the shoulder mounted sheath. "Just Jean. And, no. ADN Vanguard and Pilot, though I was born and raised in Cretu." he says with a soft smile, brushing away the flecks of dust surrounding the new hole in his shirt. Impressive reflexes... definitely a survivor. He thought, before placing his hands on his hips. "So, you really don't remember what a 'Cafe' is?" he paused, cocking a brow. "And the jungle does rain blood?" He smirked in an effort to be a little charming and try to ease the mood further. "How about a pre-packaged meal and instant coffee for a name, to start?"

Free of his intense humidity, closeness, and his blade, she watched him sheath his weapons and didn't lower hers till he put his hands to his hips. She gave him, lidded, cynical eyes as he tried to be 'humorous' with her, and she blinked blankly at her own statements being thrown back at her. "What do you think?" She asked gruffly, before his bait of... food. Real, sodium enriched, 25 year shelf stable food with crappy instant coffee made her eyes light up. I would strip naked for a cheese burger, of course I'll take a free meal and a coffee for my name! The woman thought, flustered, but not because of the context in her head, but the fact she was excited to eat something... not from this damn jungle for once!

"I won't say another word till you provide me with such a feast, Jean." She says, before adding: "However, this free tip- we may want to push ourselves a little deeper inside the Cargo Bay... and not linger for too long." She states. "Your dropship landed into an off season river bed, perhaps in a few days, the rains will fill the nearby lake, which in turn will fill this river. Your ship will be swallowed by the rapids of a dangerous river by then, and the seasonal monsters who live in this sinkhole have been preparing for the wet season and they are not a pleasant bunch." She warned.

He nodded at this, and ushered her further inside. "That's a lot of info for a free tip, Lady." he teased, before removing his rucksack and pulling out a field ration made by Lockheed, his employer's business:



It was being tested by the Beijionese military forces and thus found in all pilot ration stashes. He pulled out one that may have felt more at home with someone who hadn't likely had beef in her six year isolation... granted, with her bulbous mass bouncing with excitement for some high sodium food... he found it hard they didn't wither away. Lets not be a fifteen year old, act your age and make the damn curry ration. He thought. He pulled the contents out, slipped them into the bag with the flameless heater inside, poured water from his canteen into it, rolled and sealed the bag up and in moments it was inflating with steam. "It'll take a bit for it to heat up." he explained, sitting cross legged with his knees bent outward, ankles supporting his thighs as he sat in front of the inflating bag as he prepared himself one in case she got paranoid of him. "So... my ship landed in a river bed that crawls with monsters huh? Great..." He sighed.

Barb's eyes lit up at the sight of the box, and could easily read the words she had not thought to see in her foreseeable future: "BEEF CURRY".

She inched her way over to him, and then sat, Wariza, or 'w' style upon the surface of the cargo hold, with her hands between her thighs. She looked at the intriguing ration inflating, her chest excitedly jiggling from her rapid chest movements, her huffing and puffing. She glared up at him as he spoke, as if... he interfered with her favorite television program or something, and raised a brow. True to her word, she wasn't going to say a single thing till everything was finished.

He sat there, waiting for her to answer, when he realized she was sticking to her word. He propped his chin up off his fist, as he leaned onto his elbow onto his thigh. "Hrm.... persistent aren't you?" he sighed, bowing his head. He glanced over to the ration, thinking he didn't have time for this... especially with Tobin's fate not confirmed yet and the dropship being in a hostile zone with monsters.

Still, best to have info.

With the first ration complete, he unpacks it and hands it to her. "Here ya go." he says, leaning back, placing a spork on the small tray.

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:

Barbara Lockheart wrote:
She narrowed her gaze on him when he didn't answer her immediately, but as soon as he introduced himself as 'Jean Maverick' and gave her the date, her brow twitched. "I... I see." she began, looking off to the side, her left hand, which held his revolver trained it on his chest as she lowered her spear, thumbing back the hammer to keep him from jumping her now that she appeared to have her guard down. "I can see why you called me 'lady'... wow... my math was right, I really have been here for six years... I'm twenty three? Shit... I've missed a lot." She thought, thinking back to when she set sail with that lowlife who worked for that slug, Mr. 'Jay' whom she was glad she didn't have the displeasure of meeting face to face with. Still... six years. She turned her attention back to him, and raised the revolver to his head. "You didn't answer my other questions."

He didn't react to her change in demeanor, as to not lead her on. She switched to using his pilot revolver instead, talking to herself as she trained the gun at his chest at first. "You've been stuck on this island for six years?" He asked, surprised, despite trying not to act such. It was hard to believe the Island of Death wasn't living up to its namesake yet... if she could survive six years on this island, then... perhaps others were around as well.

When she returned her attention and raised the pistol, he acted quickly with Scardian speed and efficiency. His right hand grabbed the cylinder of the revolver whilst his left hand went for the knife hanging off his left shoulder; drawing the long blade which hung there would be significantly slower than if he had used his right hand, but the right hand was busy disabling his own weapon whilst also bringing him closer to the woman. His right thumb slipped behind the cylinder to block the hammer and firing pin, his right arm forcing her left out as he came in close, the long machete like survival knife's edge pressing against the woman's slender neck!



He closed the distance, his chest practically against hers, his right leg swung behind her left as he towered over her, glaring down with his collected brown eyes. "Let's reevaluate our situation here. I'm not in the mood to play hostage, and I don't intend to make you one. I lost my boss' kid, and I can't leave this place till I find him. I am willing to trade you supplies for intel, but only if its legit, and though I'd rather not, if you continue to be an obstacle for me, I will remove you. Now... can we please, just talk like two, civilized people? No more tricks or maneuvers? No pointy, bladed objects against our necks? Just two people, talking, like if we were at a cafe." He bargained.

She was surprised slightly by his swiftness, which answered her question on where he was from at least by the time he had his knife against her neck and had blocked his revolver from firing. Her massive DDD's curled and rubbed up against his rugged, sweaty black tee and she looked him evenly in the eyes with her red brown gaze as well.

"If you lost someone, he's probably dead. The island claims the weak with ease..." she says, still threatened by knife point, not that she had to worry as her spear, in her right hand, was poised against the man's left side, where his kidney was located. The threatening spear tip prodded his shirt, some of the fabric tearing and falling away like dust... "We can kill each other right here and now, and it would be a release from this hell hole of an island... and you wish to trade supplies with an unkempt gir-woman, who could tell you the island 'rains with blood' each night? News flash, it doesn't. Or does it?" She said in a cynical manner, unsmiling. "A cafe? What a foreign word for me... I've only been living in this hell for nearly a decade, why not? Remind me what a cafe actually is again? I've had to push such unnecessary experiences from my mind in order to keep the plants, animals, the very air from killing me for six long fucking years!" she gasped, huffing and puffing, blushing. "A-and you're too close...!" she gasped, gulping, glaring daggers at him!

She inhaled and exhaled... calming down. "...I suppose, I could, for the time being, keep myself from turning you to stone... Jean Maverick..." she emphasizes his name, but more so she could remember it, she almost called him John. She pulled away the spear, lowering it, and releases her grip on his revolver, allowing him to take it back. With arms held wide, she looked as though she was going to embrace him fully now, but she instead tried to take a step backward and way from his blade, her right leg stopping her from tripping back since her left shapely leg was blocked by his right leg. "Scardian Foreign Legion? You are Scardian... that much is certain." she asked, still waiting for him to back away as well. She didn't like her back facing the jungle behind her.

After she exploded, then calmed down, and eventually revealed she was no longer a threat, Jean slowly removed the blade from her neck and then swiftly pulled his gun from her hand and his leg from around hers, taking a full step back. He spun the revolver around so the pistol grip was in his right palm, he pulled the trigger whilst holding the hammer, easing the hammer down slowly so it wouldn't strike the primer. He then spun the revolver back into his armpit holster, tossed the knife from his left to his right hand, and slid the blade back into the shoulder mounted sheath. "Just Jean. And, no. ADN Vanguard and Pilot, though I was born and raised in Cretu." he says with a soft smile, brushing away the flecks of dust surrounding the new hole in his shirt. Impressive reflexes... definitely a survivor. He thought, before placing his hands on his hips. "So, you really don't remember what a 'Cafe' is?" he paused, cocking a brow. "And the jungle does rain blood?" He smirked in an effort to be a little charming and try to ease the mood further. "How about a pre-packaged meal and instant coffee for a name, to start?"

Free of his intense humidity, closeness, and his blade, she watched him sheath his weapons and didn't lower hers till he put his hands to his hips. She gave him, lidded, cynical eyes as he tried to be 'humorous' with her, and she blinked blankly at her own statements being thrown back at her. "What do you think?" She asked gruffly, before his bait of... food. Real, sodium enriched, 25 year shelf stable food with crappy instant coffee made her eyes light up. I would strip naked for a cheese burger, of course I'll take a free meal and a coffee for my name! The woman thought, flustered, but not because of the context in her head, but the fact she was excited to eat something... not from this damn jungle for once!

"I won't say another word till you provide me with such a feast, Jean." She says, before adding: "However, this free tip- we may want to push ourselves a little deeper inside the Cargo Bay... and not linger for too long." She states. "Your dropship landed into an off season river bed, perhaps in a few days, the rains will fill the nearby lake, which in turn will fill this river. Your ship will be swallowed by the rapids of a dangerous river by then, and the seasonal monsters who live in this sinkhole have been preparing for the wet season and they are not a pleasant bunch." She warned.

He nodded at this, and ushered her further inside. "That's a lot of info for a free tip, Lady." he teased, before removing his rucksack and pulling out a field ration made by Lockheed, his employer's business:



It was being tested by the Beijionese military forces and thus found in all pilot ration stashes. He pulled out one that may have felt more at home with someone who hadn't likely had beef in her six year isolation... granted, with her bulbous mass bouncing with excitement for some high sodium food... he found it hard they didn't wither away. Lets not be a fifteen year old, act your age and make the damn curry ration. He thought. He pulled the contents out, slipped them into the bag with the flameless heater inside, poured water from his canteen into it, rolled and sealed the bag up and in moments it was inflating with steam. "It'll take a bit for it to heat up." he explained, sitting cross legged with his knees bent outward, ankles supporting his thighs as he sat in front of the inflating bag as he prepared himself one in case she got paranoid of him. "So... my ship landed in a river bed that crawls with monsters huh? Great..." He sighed.

Barb's eyes lit up at the sight of the box, and could easily read the words she had not thought to see in her foreseeable future: "BEEF CURRY".

She inched her way over to him, and then sat, Wariza, or 'w' style upon the surface of the cargo hold, with her hands between her thighs. She looked at the intriguing ration inflating, her chest excitedly jiggling from her rapid chest movements, her huffing and puffing. She glared up at him as he spoke, as if... he interfered with her favorite television program or something, and raised a brow. True to her word, she wasn't going to say a single thing till everything was finished.

He sat there, waiting for her to answer, when he realized she was sticking to her word. He propped his chin up off his fist, as he leaned onto his elbow onto his thigh. "Hrm.... persistent aren't you?" he sighed, bowing his head. He glanced over to the ration, thinking he didn't have time for this... especially with Tobin's fate not confirmed yet and the dropship being in a hostile zone with monsters.

Still, best to have info.

With the first ration complete, he unpacks it and hands it to her. "Here ya go." he says, leaning back, placing a spork on the small tray.

With the tray of BEEF CURRY now before her, she... didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent. It was imitation of a true home cooked meal, but it did the job boosting morale. She clapped her hands in a prayer gesture over the meal. "Bless the 12 for this rare treat... I don't deserve it~" she purred, before taking the spork and greedily digging in!

"Mmhmmmmm?!!" Her eyes widened and her spirits lifted, she was completely enraptured by the texture, flavor... she hadn't had something like this in so long. And by the 12, the RICE! She hadn't had rice in 6 years! "Omnomphnomphomph!!" She greedily dug in, wishing she had that coffee to wash it down, the spices, the flavor were all so... GOOD!

"IthinkshImfInfTheSpiritRealmph...! Sho...Good! OmphmahGahdsmphyeshmph!" She salivated, and ate without any sort of table manners. For her, the basic meal was comparable to a gourmet dinner! She had clumps of rice and curry gravy smeared on her lips, as she ate the entire thing...! Then felt somewhat sad. "Hah...ah... seriously, you have no idea." She gasped and panted, licking the corners of her lips before her large red-brown eyes smiled up at him. "The only rations I keep finding around here are DarkSEED MRE Mark II 'Cheese Sandwich' and 'Ener-Drink' from, like, back from the 30's. They're still fresh, but Gods... that 'cheese' is like styrophoam..." She says, before... licking her lips almost salaciously. "Barbara. Just Barb though." She finally introduced herself, licking the spoon of the residual gravy, and then the tray. "But yeah, your- ship's fucked come wet season." she says, before setting the tray down.

(OOC: A little music for this scene )

From the deeper part of the currently low tided river, which was essentially a small stream surrounded by damp marshes and bogs in the off season, a creature of immense size, power and patience awaited, watching. Large yellow eyes wide awake and alert were watching the fallen ship from the thick reeds and river grasses. The creature was downwind of the crash site, and she could smell the humans inside, along with another aroma that tantilized her sense of smell. She couldn't pick it out, but the smell of cooked food drew her senses like a homing beacon.

Still the human portions would not fill her belly, no matter what it was. So she'd supplement it with the two of them if need be, and with a smile, she let out a low rumbling growl before sliding back into the water, concealing her huge 45 foot long frame beneath the glassy surface.

Upon viewing... Barb's overflowing... enthusiasm, Jean gulped, and slid his ration over to her, only somewhat afraid she'll end up biting his hand in the process. "Barb huh? No last name?" He asked. He didn't want to bring it up, but... in the back of his mind, he... seen her somewhere before. She looked oddly familiar, as if it was on the tip of his tongue, but... couldn't quite place it. "How'd ya end up here? Same as me?" he asked, filtering the boiled water from the rations to fill her a tin cup filled with instant coffee, gently placing it beside the tray.

He heard the low, rumbling growl and chuckled. "Wow, you must be hungry!" He chuckled.

Jean Maverick wrote:Upon viewing... Barb's overflowing... enthusiasm, Jean gulped, and slid his ration over to her, only somewhat afraid she'll end up biting his hand in the process. "Barb huh? No last name?" He asked. He didn't want to bring it up, but... in the back of his mind, he... seen her somewhere before. She looked oddly familiar, as if it was on the tip of his tongue, but... couldn't quite place it. "How'd ya end up here? Same as me?" he asked, filtering the boiled water from the rations to fill her a tin cup filled with instant coffee, gently placing it beside the tray.

He heard the low, rumbling growl and chuckled. "Wow, you must be hungry!" He chuckled.

Barb's eyes widened as he handed her the second plate. Such unnecessary generosity...! She thought, gulping before glancing up... trying to smile. "Th-thanks." She says, her hand falling on his as he set the coffee mug beside the tray. She didn't think nothing of it at first, then flustered and recoiled her hand back. "My last name..." she paused, and... old, pent up feelings she thought she disposed of strangely resurfaced. "...its, not worth, mentioning. Maybe another time..." she says, running a hand through the braid at the side of her head, before she glanced over to him when he changed the subject. "Oh, so you were on a Yacht with several other attractive and 'hot' looking ladies, tricked by a gangster scumbag in a digital suit who was going to deliver us to some giant slug monster named 'Mr Jay' and then got ship wrecked as well? Huh, small world. Doesn't explain the drop ship though." She says, back to her sarcastic demeanor as she waved her spork around to emphasize the ship they were in. She raised the tin mug to her lips, the piping hot coffee was bitter, but it was different. It wasn't boiled river water or rain water.

When she heard the low growl and he mistook the growl for her stomach she nearly choked on the fluid! "Pah, clah, hot!" she gasped, finding herself breaking her own rule on shouting, before quickly setting the cup down, and her hand grabbed her spear while she leaned over him and placed her free hand across his mouth, their faces close, her eyes in line with his. "Shhh... that wasn't my stomach." She whispered, and listened closely, before pulling her eyes away from his, and she looked around. "We need to move. Quickly. To the tree line. Follow me, leave everything for now, but consider it gone." she says softly.

I could have been wrong... but, I swear... that was one of those scaly cannibal bastards... like the one who ate Molly, Fran and Kimi six years ago... She recalled, watching the other potential models, a human from Fenira, a Rabbit Beast-Kin and a Kitsune who strayed too close to the river. Kimi the Kitsune was the first taken... she didn't stick around to watch the others get eaten, she was barely able to make it out herself!

"HELP!!"


She shook her head, and pulled herself away from Jean, spear at the ready. She had that Playfaire shotgun holstered to her hip yet, hidden by the cape, as well as the bayonet knife in the sheath hidden away. She cautiously poked her head out of the cargo bay, cautiously checking the water line.

Nothing.

She beckoned him anxiously, keeping her eyes on the water as she began to exit the cargo hold. "Jean, hurry...." she called to him in a soft whisper, her reddish brown gaze fixating on anything amiss in the water... damn, those scaly freaks knew how to keep themselves hidden!

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:Upon viewing... Barb's overflowing... enthusiasm, Jean gulped, and slid his ration over to her, only somewhat afraid she'll end up biting his hand in the process. "Barb huh? No last name?" He asked. He didn't want to bring it up, but... in the back of his mind, he... seen her somewhere before. She looked oddly familiar, as if it was on the tip of his tongue, but... couldn't quite place it. "How'd ya end up here? Same as me?" he asked, filtering the boiled water from the rations to fill her a tin cup filled with instant coffee, gently placing it beside the tray.

He heard the low, rumbling growl and chuckled. "Wow, you must be hungry!" He chuckled.

Barb's eyes widened as he handed her the second plate. Such unnecessary generosity...! She thought, gulping before glancing up... trying to smile. "Th-thanks." She says, her hand falling on his as he set the coffee mug beside the tray. She didn't think nothing of it at first, then flustered and recoiled her hand back. "My last name..." she paused, and... old, pent up feelings she thought she disposed of strangely resurfaced. "...its, not worth, mentioning. Maybe another time..." she says, running a hand through the braid at the side of her head, before she glanced over to him when he changed the subject. "Oh, so you were on a Yacht with several other attractive and 'hot' looking ladies, tricked by a gangster scumbag in a digital suit who was going to deliver us to some giant slug monster named 'Mr Jay' and then got ship wrecked as well? Huh, small world. Doesn't explain the drop ship though." She says, back to her sarcastic demeanor as she waved her spork around to emphasize the ship they were in. She raised the tin mug to her lips, the piping hot coffee was bitter, but it was different. It wasn't boiled river water or rain water.

When she heard the low growl and he mistook the growl for her stomach she nearly choked on the fluid! "Pah, clah, hot!" she gasped, finding herself breaking her own rule on shouting, before quickly setting the cup down, and her hand grabbed her spear while she leaned over him and placed her free hand across his mouth, their faces close, her eyes in line with his. "Shhh... that wasn't my stomach." She whispered, and listened closely, before pulling her eyes away from his, and she looked around. "We need to move. Quickly. To the tree line. Follow me, leave everything for now, but consider it gone." she says softly.

I could have been wrong... but, I swear... that was one of those scaly cannibal bastards... like the one who ate Molly, Fran and Kimi six years ago... She recalled, watching the other potential models, a human from Fenira, a Rabbit Beast-Kin and a Kitsune who strayed too close to the river. Kimi the Kitsune was the first taken... she didn't stick around to watch the others get eaten, she was barely able to make it out herself!

"HELP!!"


She shook her head, and pulled herself away from Jean, spear at the ready. She had that Playfaire shotgun holstered to her hip yet, hidden by the cape, as well as the bayonet knife in the sheath hidden away. She cautiously poked her head out of the cargo bay, cautiously checking the water line.

Nothing.

She beckoned him anxiously, keeping her eyes on the water as she began to exit the cargo hold. "Jean, hurry...." she called to him in a soft whisper, her reddish brown gaze fixating on anything amiss in the water... damn, those scaly freaks knew how to keep themselves hidden!

"I see one can still find humor and sarcasm after six years of isolation. Cute." He says, but was concerned about the mention of 'Mr Jay'... he was a somewhat notorious criminal who tried to muscle in on Lockheed for a time, which was concerning.

When she choked on the coffee he was alarmed. "H-hey, take it easy its hot-mmph?" He found the woman now leaning over him, hand across his mouth. She spoke softly and calmly, but saw the anxiety in her eyes. He nodded gently, a little sickened by the fact he apparently did not have enough time to grab the second rifle up in the cockpit gun rack for her, but he supposed depending on the length of his stay on the island, he could always try to come back.

With his rucksack back on, the mug's contents chugged for himself, he then tossed the mostly dry cup into a side pocket on his bag. He glanced over to her, noting the anxiety now, and swiftly followed behind her, his assault rifle which had hung off his hip now firmly held in his grasp. He looked around as soon as both were outside, weapon raised, but unsure what he was looking for. "How many and where we headed?" he whispered.

Jean Maverick wrote:
With his rucksack back on, the mug's contents chugged for himself, he then tossed the mostly dry cup into a side pocket on his bag. He glanced over to her, noting the anxiety now, and swiftly followed behind her, his assault rifle which had hung off his hip now firmly held in his grasp. He looked around as soon as both were outside, weapon raised, but unsure what he was looking for. "How many and where we headed?" he whispered.

She didn't answer immediately, reaching for his shoulder while her eyes continued to fixate on the shallow water of the nearby stream. "I can't be certain, but we shouldn't stick around to find out. Head for the trees behind me, you turn for them take three steps, with me, tell me if its clear, then we'll pivot and you watch the water line, I take three steps... you get it, right? Okay." she says stepping back with him now.

I doubt keeping an eye on the water is the best solution... its why we need to constantly switch back and forth, in case one of us spots something off to the sides as we make our retreat into the jungle... She thought, before swallowing back adrenaline.

"If you see something, pick me up and run for the trees. You Scardians and your famed speed better live up to the legends, unlike the legends of your so called 'prowess in the bed chambers'- I can't speak for all girls, but I sure don't like someone whose too quick in there. How utterly disappointing." she scoffed, in a cynical jab at her new companion.

Barbara Lockheart wrote:

Jean Maverick wrote:
With his rucksack back on, the mug's contents chugged for himself, he then tossed the mostly dry cup into a side pocket on his bag. He glanced over to her, noting the anxiety now, and swiftly followed behind her, his assault rifle which had hung off his hip now firmly held in his grasp. He looked around as soon as both were outside, weapon raised, but unsure what he was looking for. "How many and where we headed?" he whispered.

She didn't answer immediately, reaching for his shoulder while her eyes continued to fixate on the shallow water of the nearby stream. "I can't be certain, but we shouldn't stick around to find out. Head for the trees behind me, you turn for them take three steps, with me, tell me if its clear, then we'll pivot and you watch the water line, I take three steps... you get it, right? Okay." she says stepping back with him now.

I doubt keeping an eye on the water is the best solution... its why we need to constantly switch back and forth, in case one of us spots something off to the sides as we make our retreat into the jungle... She thought, before swallowing back adrenaline.

"If you see something, pick me up and run for the trees. You Scardians and your famed speed better live up to the legends, unlike the legends of your so called 'prowess in the bed chambers'- I can't speak for all girls, but I sure don't like someone whose too quick in there. How utterly disappointing." she scoffed, in a cynical jab at her new companion.

He nodded, before her jab at his Scardian pride. Without taking his eyes off the tree line as they walked, he leaned over towards her and whispered: "That's probably because you've not been with a real Scardian, lass." He teased, before resuming his stance again. "Clear on my end, switch." He says, pivoting around, weapon now trained on the stream past the drop ship, back walking with Barb now walking ahead. "Besides, getting action in this place? By who? By what? You were what, seventeen when you landed here? I call bullshit." He says in a teasing manner back at her. The banter was at least... somewhat anxiety relief. He didn't know what she was worried about at the moment, but he supposed it were the 'monsters' she spoke briefly of earlier.

"Clear."