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Entry tags:
Simple Things
Who| Shepard And OPEN
What| Shepard strips various depots of supplies, runs recon, encounters tributes and possibly even roombas
Where| various, but please feel fee to specify any store, not just the presented options
When| Week 3, various
Warnings/Notes| Language, mention of violence and/or torture
Shepard heard a lot about it, but she had never been subject to no-fly lists or real security checks even once in her life. She understood the concept-- dangerous items, weapons, and what could be used to make them, didn't belong in places that were particularly vulnerable. Like spacecraft in close proximity to high population densities.
But, in her own experience, the most dangerous people, the ones who went through life looking for the next fight, were the ones that got waved through, no questions asked, carrying an arsenal on their backs. Shepard tended to fall into that category.
Mordin Solus, on the other hand, had learned a thing or two about circumventing well-meant restrictions in creative ways-- it was to him that she owed the crossbow in her hands, fashioned from, near as she could tell, salvaged clothing elastic and magazines laminated and cured under a tiny gas-flame. It was insane, the ingenuity of that man, and she was grateful. So, when Mordin handed her a shopping list, she crept out, and went shopping.
Option Option Two; CELL-U-LAR Zone
As the fruits of the harvest do come from the trees, so did Shepard make the rounds, stripping batteries from the antique flip-phones and dumping them into a bag that had begun life as a child's jacket. Now it was a carry-sack for the seeds of destruction.
She moved methodically through the store. It was a bit of a challenge with one hand, and more than once she just took the whole phone rather than the battery, but if Mordin didn't like it, he could piss off, or ask someone whole to do his pick-ups.
It really took her back. Still the grubby, scraped-off trashpicker, huh Shepard? Looks like red isn't as dead as you'd like her to be. But, as unquiet as she might be, she's not unaware, nor is she stupid-- she's got cargo, and somewhere to take it. She's not going to stand still for a fight.
Option Three; Experience: the Power of Crystals
Shepard hadn't really intended to come in here. She didn't have a reason to; it was bright, sparkly, and full of easily-toppled twinkling displays, liable to make a lot of noise to no benefit. Still, something in there caught on her eye; checking every detail was a habit too long engrained in her to abandon now, and it had never failed to pay off, in some respect.
Besides, it was hard to argue that the place was functionally useless. Pretty, but useless; maybe that would keep people out of her hair as much as it put her at risk. Her eye caught on a spar of amethyst, sparking a memory. Lost in the dark, digging the wrong way.
Wisdom comes from pain-- and we have been made very wise.
She wasn't the worst off here, she could still fight. No matter what happened, she could still fight, and win this. Not the arena, that was a battle, but the war. Shepard took the crystal off the shelf. It was slightly warm from the display lamps, a sharp-pointed stick of quartz that weighed in her hand. A simple crystal, but it could be her chisel.
Or her weapon: Shepard turned, suddenly sure that someone had come in after her, and made the momentary refuge into an ambush.
What| Shepard strips various depots of supplies, runs recon, encounters tributes and possibly even roombas
Where| various, but please feel fee to specify any store, not just the presented options
When| Week 3, various
Warnings/Notes| Language, mention of violence and/or torture
Shepard heard a lot about it, but she had never been subject to no-fly lists or real security checks even once in her life. She understood the concept-- dangerous items, weapons, and what could be used to make them, didn't belong in places that were particularly vulnerable. Like spacecraft in close proximity to high population densities.
But, in her own experience, the most dangerous people, the ones who went through life looking for the next fight, were the ones that got waved through, no questions asked, carrying an arsenal on their backs. Shepard tended to fall into that category.
Mordin Solus, on the other hand, had learned a thing or two about circumventing well-meant restrictions in creative ways-- it was to him that she owed the crossbow in her hands, fashioned from, near as she could tell, salvaged clothing elastic and magazines laminated and cured under a tiny gas-flame. It was insane, the ingenuity of that man, and she was grateful. So, when Mordin handed her a shopping list, she crept out, and went shopping.
Option Option Two; CELL-U-LAR Zone
As the fruits of the harvest do come from the trees, so did Shepard make the rounds, stripping batteries from the antique flip-phones and dumping them into a bag that had begun life as a child's jacket. Now it was a carry-sack for the seeds of destruction.
She moved methodically through the store. It was a bit of a challenge with one hand, and more than once she just took the whole phone rather than the battery, but if Mordin didn't like it, he could piss off, or ask someone whole to do his pick-ups.
It really took her back. Still the grubby, scraped-off trashpicker, huh Shepard? Looks like red isn't as dead as you'd like her to be. But, as unquiet as she might be, she's not unaware, nor is she stupid-- she's got cargo, and somewhere to take it. She's not going to stand still for a fight.
Option Three; Experience: the Power of Crystals
Shepard hadn't really intended to come in here. She didn't have a reason to; it was bright, sparkly, and full of easily-toppled twinkling displays, liable to make a lot of noise to no benefit. Still, something in there caught on her eye; checking every detail was a habit too long engrained in her to abandon now, and it had never failed to pay off, in some respect.
Besides, it was hard to argue that the place was functionally useless. Pretty, but useless; maybe that would keep people out of her hair as much as it put her at risk. Her eye caught on a spar of amethyst, sparking a memory. Lost in the dark, digging the wrong way.
Wisdom comes from pain-- and we have been made very wise.
She wasn't the worst off here, she could still fight. No matter what happened, she could still fight, and win this. Not the arena, that was a battle, but the war. Shepard took the crystal off the shelf. It was slightly warm from the display lamps, a sharp-pointed stick of quartz that weighed in her hand. A simple crystal, but it could be her chisel.
Or her weapon: Shepard turned, suddenly sure that someone had come in after her, and made the momentary refuge into an ambush.
3!
"Woah!" Instantly, he was in a defensive position at the sound. Then he realized who it was. "Shepard..."
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"Donatello," She didn't relax, couldn't afford to. He'd given her a reason to stay on guard, "Can I help you?"
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He looked at her arm.
"Are you doing all right?"
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She tracked his line of sight and the line of her mouth thinned, her chin became more firmly set. It was still in the brace he'd made, after all. No sponsor had been willing to take a chance, it seemed, on any of them, "It's fine. Not much anyone can do, at this point."
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no subject
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Yet. But he has no doubt that it will have to happen soon. Especially if he really wanted to win.
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It's a joke. Maybe she didn't mean it as a joke- she'd meant it cruelly, but somewhere between mouth and brain the sarcasm twisted around onto her face and the smirk cames out conspiratorial. Traitor.
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Even if it admittedly worried him that something would happen in the heat of the moment, like the last Arena. He still wasn't sure why he'd slipped like that.
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Shepard bit the inside of her cheek and remembered the plan. Stay alive. Gather resources. Wait, for the fucking signal. Hope that she recognized the signal, now that her own cracked self-worth had endangered the mission. Even now, she didn't regret it, and that lack of regret tasted strongly of shame.
"It pisses me off, you know. All these half-measures," If they were going kill, Jane wished they'd just do it. Honest death, she could take that with more grace, even if this way afforded a greater chance of victory, "I've been fighting a long time, and I've waded through some rivers of shit before, but this is by far the worst crapshoot of them all, politics included."
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He let out a sigh.
"There're plenty of hiding places, and the Capitol hasn't found it boring just yet."
2
The door in the back of the shop labeled "Employees only" but the figure coming out of it was not an employee. It was Sandy holding a shiny key.
Not exactly the traditional ambush but it was sudden.
Sandy looked like she was on the return flight from hell. Her fingers wrapped in bandages, her eye bruised and lips cracked. A deep burn from her branding was peeking out from under a stocking cap.
"Shepard?"
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Still, she was three steps towards the door before she heard the kid's voice. It paid to be skittish, in this economy, "...Sandy?"
The kid was still alive. Will wonders never cease?
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"What are you doing with all that junk?" She asked eyeballing Shepard's seemingly pointless haul of bits and pieces and cell phones.
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It wasn't the first time she'd talked to Sandy as if she were an adult, but it was maybe the first time Shepard had done it as if she were an equal. It was worth remembering that most of Jane's peers were dead-- for the usual reasons.
But then she remembered herself.
"...Hi."
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"It's a key." She answered honestly "I got it on the first day and it opens like...everything."
She relaxed a little at the greeting and nodded taking a step closer.
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As evidenced by the machinations of one Steve Rogers, Captain.
"A friend of mine is pretty good with this stuff," she indicated the sack of cellular miscellanea, "He asked me to go shopping for him. I'm a little on-edge."
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"What's got you so worried?" She asked immediately and cast a glance to the entrance of the shop in case whatever Shepard was alluding to was right outside.
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"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she gestured with the injured hand, hoping the swollen, discolored fingertips were enough of a testament to the hidden damage, "But nothing's after me, at least not right now, specifically. I'm not exactly 'fighting fit' at the moment, so if I get caught on my own, I'm pretty screwed. Lost-"
Garrus. Even thinking it was a wrench.
"-someone that way, earlier this week."
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This sounded different through.
"Do you know how they went?" She inquired hesitantly.
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She hoped. God, she only hoped so.
"I'll find out, later."
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"I'm sure he's cheering us on. Everyone on your crew knows you're only in here because you haven't decided to win yet."
She smiled faintly at the little bit of ego stroking hoping it would cheer her up.
Option 2
Elsa is on a mission to introduce Anna to someone important to her, the one responsible for helping her gain control of her powers. She's leading Anna along quickly, ducking into each store and keeping an eye out. "We should find her soon," she'll murmur every now and then-
And then their searches pay off. It's a store full of things she's never seen before, but she lets go of Anna's hands to look around until movement catches her eye. "Oh, there she is!" She ushers Anna over. "Hey!" she calls, moving towards the older woman.
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When they find themselves at the mouth of what appears to be a store full of tiny electronic boxes, Anna takes a moment to gape around at them all. Of course, none of them work, and many have been pulled down off the ground, but it's still quite the marvel.
"Ooh, coming," she snaps out of her daze, following her sister toward an older woman who appears to be stuffing the tiny boxes into a bag.
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Well, to be completely fair, Jane hadn't made herself particularly easy to find, these last few weeks. Getting herself arrested, and then the important business of not-dying had kept everyone occupied, herself included. Still, she wasn't exactly expecting a social call in the middle of her resource-mongering.
"Elsa?" And there she is, trailing what can only be the infamous Anna, "Everything okay?"
Because if someone is chasing you, God help them.
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"Everything is fine," Elsa is quick to assure the older woman, stopping just in front of her with Anna in tow. "I've been looking for you, though. I wanted to see you again, since our first meeting was so short."
he gestures to Anna, "And I wanted you to finally meet my sister, Anna." In turn, she gestures to Shepard. "Anna, this is my friend, Shepard. She's... the one who helped me control my powers, like I said. If it hadn't been for her, I would probably still be afraid of them."
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"It's so nice to meet you!" She grins. "And thank you. For helping my sister. Since, y'know, I couldn't be here to help her."
She glances around them, still curious. "What is all this?"
I am the fastest tagger in the world, obviously.
"Uh- Hi, nice to meet you," She does look a bit tough right now, between the bruises and blood and the stolen sweatshirt, like some kind of war-torn refugee, "I'm just picking up some tech for my team. Doesn't look like much, but you can get a lot of impact out of these things if you know how to use 'em."