Arthur was as giddy as a kid in a candy store at the sight of the backup he'd have. He really was on cloud nine, or whichever cloud wasn't gray. Being chauffeured by an Orlock was like no other thrill in life. He has been driving since an early age himself, but Orlocks are trained to man these mammoth vehicles with the slightest of ease. The ride was surprisingly smooth, considering the rough terrain the group would skate across. Glancing at the Captain in the passenger seat, and Alec right next to him, both men looked bored. Were these gentlemen action junkies? Artie assumed they were chomping at the bits for some action. He attempts more conversation with the crew. "So, you fellas always this anxious to get out there? I mean, I hope we don't have to cross paths with anything unfriendly, but you fellas seem to look forward to it. Is that routine for you guys? Do you ever get nervous before you fight? Does it help you guys? Am I asking too many questions? Just say the word, and I'll shut up right away."
A heavy gust of wind rocked the vehicle and the a sound like a tea kettle whistling could be heard outside. The storm was beginning to pick up at last, a fact reflected by Gask's attentiveness to the monitors. He knocked a few of the gauges and gave a few quick nods as he muttered to himself and adjusted a few sliders on the the instrument panel. "Gask, right?" Omar asked, mouth full. "Is that a first name, or a last name? Or a spunky nickname?" Not turning away from his task, he spoke. "Parents used to call me their 'little Gasket'. Working on some of the larger rigs in some convoys, names usually don't make it past one syllable; its takes to much time to dish out orders if you have to say someone's full and there can be a lot of vital things that need doing." He glanced over his shoulder, "I think it has a nice ring to it too, don't you?" Once more not waiting for a response, he turned back to the instruments.
Omar grinned. "Gask it is, then. I'm Doctor Djalili. Not as nice a ring to it, but what're ya gonna do. This is fun... male bonding. You're a very open person, Gask. That's an endearing quality. Not like these chicks. Colder than the winds outside, they are." He chuckled, amused by his own antics. Immediately verbalising his every thought was just about the only thing he could do to prevent himself from being overwhelmed by the situation.
"Not so endearing as you might think. It tends to put people off a little when you tell them that you might have been a Reaver once, but I figure we are going to be spending more than a little time together in this boat...assuming you don't die of course. Even then its good to be able to trust the person who might be sewing you up later." Gask puffed a little on his cigarette and shifted gears, causing the entire rig to lurch forward a little. "So whats your story Doc?"
"So whats your story Doc?" Omar shrugged. "It's not half as interesting as yours seems to be. I'm an Arabian. Grew up there. I was a pretty smart kid, so they sent me to England to attend Cambridge University, one of the few left standing. Life was fairly easy there -- easier than I'd had it -- so I stuck around. After I got my degree in Medicine, I continued on and got a doctorate in Genetics and Virology. After that, I got drafted into the army as a field medic. Got shot. Went home. Then they set me up with my own lab; had me leading a team of the world's greatest minds, trying to... uh... well, it's a black-lab, actually, so my research is highly classified. You know how it is. Actually, that's the reason I was sent on this mission. Conducting research. At least, that's what I was told..."
I gave the storm just as much as hell as it was giving me. I smiled at the thrill of driving blinded by a storm and sometimes lighted by a slight lightning strike. I am sure this baby could take a good strike or two also. Man this mammoth I was driving was a beauty. She handled like she was as a slim as a regular car. I got the shivers a bit thinkin' a bit about how good this rig is. I look around at my team again. Hawke is comfortable just chillin' in the front. Gaston was watching and searching for anything to shoot at. I am sure he really wants to shoot a load at some Drekk when we get to that point. Artie looked like a school girl all happy with glee. He looked like he shot a load himself bein' in a rig with some of the toughest guys left on this planet. If something bad happened to this baby it would be up to him mostly to get it goin' again and he is gonna be the one blowin' them damn Drekk so the guy is pretty cool. I grabbed the radio and flipped from channel to channel in our convoy since we were out and about in our journey. Don't know who could be listnenin' in on us. "Alrighty folks this is your captain speaking, We have hard winds and another 25 miles to go till we reach Cornwall which will take about 2 more hours so we got till to kill yall. David out," I said then letting out a short chuckle. This is gonna be fun.
Gask had just been about to respond to the Doc when he heard the faint crackle of the radio and the vague sound of a man's voice coming through the communication fuzz. He reached for one of the knobs and turned it until the crackling fuzz was reduced to a barely audible humming sound and the voice came in loud and clear. "...captain speaking, We have hard winds and another 25 miles to go till we reach Cornwall which will take about 2 more hours so we got till to kill yall. David out." That would be David Wayne, the lucky, or maybe unlucky, Orlock who had been selected to lead the convoy. He had to admit to being a little jealous of David since he was the one who got to pilot that hulking beauty they called a Truck. Gask grabbed up the radio and spoke into, reciting almost from memory what protocol dictated he say. "This is Coms Driver reporting in to confirm transmission. Weather is bein' a b*tch but we are running smooth. Gask out."
Drake Bruce Drake was simply unnoticed in the truck owing to a good hiding place where he stood. Having heard the conversation between Helena and Spencer he decided that it was time to introduce himself in a very strange manner. He walked from the hiding place and when he was visible to the others, he, holding the automatic rifle, walked to the seat next to Spencer and placed his rifle in his jacket's large pocket. He sat on the seat and from another pocket took out a newspaper cutting that was about the recent Reaver activity. He turned towards Spencer and asked him, "Did you hear about the recent Reaver menace, Spencer?".
"So, you fellas always this anxious to get out there? I mean, I hope we don't have to cross paths with anything unfriendly, but you fellas seem to look forward to it. Is that routine for you guys? Do you ever get nervous before you fight? Does it help you guys? Am I asking too many questions? Just say the word, and I'll shut up right away." Artie asked Hawke took out another of his large cigars and bit the end off then lit the long stick with his lighter. Smoke sucked into his lungs and spat out from his nostril. A relaxing feel once more. He turned to look at the excited Artie. “Anxious isn’t a word I’d use lad. First of the worst is the Reaver’s see even the Drekk fear those maniacs. If you get caught up in a Reaver raid worry. They will rape you beat you skin you and feat upon you will raping you again. And they don’t care on gender either. All this if your lucky. There’s a reason people fear the Reaver’s and that’s a pretty good one. I’ve fought these sick bastards more times than I care to remember. The Veridian’s come pretty close to evil sons of b!tches and the Van Haar could be as well equipped as a good old Orlock convoy party. Then the Drekk. Well you’ll know how to fight before long.” Hawke explained blowing smoke across the cockpit. "Alrighty folks this is your captain speaking, We have hard winds and another 25 miles to go till we reach Cornwall which will take about 2 more hours so we got till to kill yall. David out," David said then letting out a short chuckle. He said “This is gonna be fun.” Hawke looked on at the fog like snow outside. They were out of Dartmoor and heading into dangerous territory. Soon enough the fun would stop and the screaming would start. These none fighter types always saw adventure before the fear settled in. Though David had probably seen a fight or two in his time hard not too when you’re a Convoy trucker crossing the Ice Dunes for a living. “Speed up we need to get to those cliffs before this Storm grinds us to a stand still.” Hawke explained as he pulled out the map again.
Spencer sensed the movement near him. It certainly was a good thing for the Englishman that Spencer knew it was him. If Spence had had any reason to think it was an enemy, his head would've been gone by now. "Kid, I've seen every published account of Reaver attacks, and several that were far too gruesome to publish. Know the enemy." He looked the man over. Thin and unassuming, dressed in blacks and grays with a bottle hanging off him. The rifle in his pack impressed Spencer more than any other part of the man. Hopefully, he would know how to use it.
Suddenly a large bang Of thunder crashed across the sky followed by heavy hailstones that come crashing down slamming hard into the convoy. The vision ahead becomes even more foggy as the snow starts kicking up from the ground as the Wind suddenly picks up and begins to grow in strength
Gaston looked forward to David, who seemed to have a firm grasp on the worsening weather situation. He slid the metal plate away and looked out the at site. Dangerous, sure, but Gaston didn't trouble himself with what the driver should be worried about. Especially if the driver didn't look worried or, if he was, he didn't show it. "Maybe we should've named the truck before we left, eh?" he asked jokingly. "Bad luck to go out without a name on the beast, I think."
The sound of something small and hard striking the metal reverberated through the truck. It was neither sharp enough, nor sustained enough to be gunfire. Spencer peeked out the window. The weather had worsened. They had hail now. It was probably best to be up where he could see everything. He rose and left his seat in the back, and strode up to the front of the truck. He strapped himself into the front passenger seat, next to Helena. "How's it holding up?" He asked.
Sadie closed her eyes in her seat, listening silently to the others’ conversation. The corner of her mouth twitched up in a smirk as Mika put the good doctor in his place, and she was tempted to ask if he’d like to put his medical degree to the test against her fists. But such a comment might not be appreciated by their driver, and as convinced as Sadie was that Gask wouldn’t actually shoot any of them she didn’t particularly want a rifle waved in her face again. She did open her eyes during Gask’s story. The man was cold and didn’t have the best attitude, but Sadie would never have suspected anything so traumatic in his past. It was almost impressive, the way he was just able to talk about it. When he was finished, Sadie closed her eyes again. Omar seemed to enjoy in excusing for ‘male bonding’, though Sadie was more convinced that it was simply that the doctor felt the need to say everything that came in his head. Well, whatever, as long as they didn’t feel the need to talk to her or ask her ‘story’. Not that she had one. She just liked to blow things up. The crackling of the radio and another snarl of thunder broke through the conversation. Hail began clattering down, hitting the truck in short, staccato bursts. The noise echoed in Sadie’s head, and a quiet, frustrated sigh escaped her lips. So much for getting a nap during the journey.
Helena ignored Spencer at first and picked up the radio. "Roger that. Thanks for the heads up. Over." Duty first. "She's holding," She said addressing Spencer, "If she couldn't stand up to a little weather, we may as well go home." Helena took her eyes off the road long enough to flick a glance at Drake. "It speaks."
The panicked man who had frantically tried to get the truck was still in front of him. Merle didn't mind really. He had his overcoat button, but he cold was still getting to him. He even had feathers and he was still cold. "Its great how these sticken people just leave without you," the bird said. The panicked man who had been running for an ingenius amount of time finally stopped the truck. The man in the truck yelled something at the man outside. He stared at the bird. "Of course," the bird said. The bird flew right on top of the truck. He stared at the man who had the door swung right open. He stared at him with a birdy eye. "You must wait for my other part of my body," the bird said, "He's only a few inches from here...and if you don't wait we'll see how nicely you rip." The human companion a few inches away from the truck put his hand on his forehead. The bird just didn't get not to insult people or how not to threaten someone. The bird came flying back onto his shoulders. "I asked him to wait," the bird said. He just stared at his companion and shook his head. He was finally close enough to the panicked man and the man looming out of the truck. He stared at the panicked man. "You go inside first since we watched you flop around like a great fish," the bird said.
Spencer nodded at her reply. The view out the front window was a familiar one; a haze of snow punctuated with the larger hailstones against a matting of dark gray. The headlights didn't help the visibility too much, but Orlocks were known for their ability to drive anything in any weather. The recruits were always exchanging stories about how they saw things differently; how the snow was transparent to them and they could see right through it. Having worked with Orlocks in the past, Spencer didn't think the stories were too far off the mark. He'd seen them do some amazing things. "Only a little." Spencer said. He didn't know what to think of Drake thus far. But, the trials ahead would fix that fairly quickly.
Helena didn't have much time to focus on her passengers. She trusted they were competant enough. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here. Her primary concern was driving this behemoth through the storm. She was confident in both her vehicle and in her own ability to drive through the rough weather. Still, it took a lot of her concentration to see through the snow and hail and keep a safe following distance with the trucks in front of her. The wheels slid periodically on the icy surface. As they approached the cliffs, visibility improved and the storm lessoned its intensity. A good thing. The cliffs would bring dangers of their own. She would focus on driving and trust her companions to take care of any other dangers. Her shotgun was handy...just in case. In the meantime, eyes on the road.
Artie's eyes widened as Hawke gave him insight on the Reavers. Then the Veridians. Then the Van Haars. Then the Drekks. He was baffled by the quantity of enemy tribes they'd possibly endure. As capable as these men were, would they really be able to sustain all that? And Artie, armed with a nail gun and a crossbow, what would become of him if caught in Reaver territory? He liked sex, but not THAT kind of sex. Now Artie was trying to remember if the Reavers were the first potential threat they could run into. It was either them or the Drekks. Either way, he wasn't prepared. Reality hit, and it hit hard. "Well, luckily we have Alec here to spot them before they spot us, isn't it?" he asked with a nervous laugh. "Just a question, fellas, but what kinda technique do the Reaver people use? What kinda weaponry? What kinda methods do they use to bring people down? Anything you can tell me, so I can have an idea of what these pervs can do."
Two of the trucks began to stop. Steward bent over taking a breather.... after a few minutes he started walking towards the truck with the ramp down, getting closer he noticed a door open from the other truck and then slam shut again. Feeling embarrassed about his situation he began to jog towards a person standing at the opening beckoning him to move his ass. "Hurry it up!! You're letting all the heat out!!" Stepping up on to the ramp Lewis replied “A bit of cold aint gonna kill ya" a shadow appeared above the entrance it was a bird of some sort "Its great how these sticken people just leave without you." "What the ****?!" Lewis said in disbelief "Of course....You must wait for my other part of my body, He's only a few inches from here...and if you don't wait we'll see how nicely you rip.” confused at the fact that a bird was speaking to him, he began to chuckle "what are you say..." before he could finish a man came into view the man placed his hand to his forehead as he did this the bird returned back to its owners shoulder. "This critter belong to you does it?" Steward indicated the bird "What's its name?"the bird turned its little head towards its owner "I asked him to wait," turned back towards Stewards direction "You go inside first since we watched you flop around like a great fish," Lewis chuckled at the comment "Awesome bird ya got there.... for ya information I wasn't flopping like a fish” looking away from the bird he muttered "I have a feeling I’m going to end up shoot this bird" Taking the birds advice Lewis continued walking into the truck, patting the men who beckoned him to hurry up on the chest "sorry about that... names Steward, Lewis Steward, but ya can call me Louie. And who’re you?”
"Well, luckily we have Alec here to spot them before they spot us, isn't it?" Arthur asked with a nervous laugh. "Just a question, fellas, but what kinda technique do the Reaver people use? What kinda weaponry? What kinda methods do they use to bring people down? Anything you can tell me, so I can have an idea of what these pervs can do." "You never know, mate," Gaston said, staring out the window. The storm had calmed, but something in his gut made him feel uneased. "From reports I've read, and some firsthand experience, I can tell you those buggers are just a bunch wild dogs. Get ya how they can, kill ya how they can, enjoy ya how they can." Gaston looked at Arthur. "Not even sure if I can spot 'em all myself," he said and winked.
Chris continued to shiver as he watched the two late arrivals chat it up outside in the cold. He wished they could finish their talk inside. The bundle of clothes, Chris determined to be English in origin, finally boarded, walking up to Chris and patting him on the chest. A man with a huge bird followed close behind. "sorry about that... names Steward, Lewis Steward, but ya can call me Louie. And who’re you?” Asked the Englishman. Chris shot him a frown. "My name's Kimsey, Chistopher Kimsey, The punctual Mechanic. You guys take the scenic route to the trucks or something?" Chris turned his attention to the Orlock. "I think that's everyone. Raise ramp and blast the heat please." Chris turned to the man with the bird and odd clothing. "What's your story?"
I smiled as we neard the cliffs of Cornwall. I looked for the ice road that headed down towards Callis Dunes. These roads were the safest but threats still loomed that were much more lethal than these puny storms on the surface. I veered to the right a bit and began on the ice road down the cliffs. I checked my side mirrors to make sure everyone was following orderly. I grabbed the radio and went from channel to channel again. "This is your captain speaking we are heading down Cornwall towards the Callis Dunes all. So Orlocks slam on your hammers and let's get this damn thing ROLLIN'," I yelled into the radio. I sped up towards the cliffs and looked to my team. "You boys ready for a ride," I asked them with a big smile on my face.
Gaston looked at Arthur. "Not even sure if I can spot 'em all myself," he said and winked. Again, Arthur belted out a nervous laugh. He thought Alec might have been joking, especially with the wink and all. But to be honest, he wasn't certain. And the idea of the Reavers "enjoying him how they can" was truly haunting. He decided to test out his theory. "You're just putting me on, right? I know you can see anything out there. Especially wild dogs. Right?" He trembled a little on that last question, fearing he'd hear an answer that would tie his stomach in knots. Now he had trouble hiding his fear. And it stunk to High Heavens. He wish he wasn't such a wimp, but he isn't a fighter. The only tussling he had done was with his wife when she tried to beat him senseless for the dumbest of reasons.
