"Of course." Frederick listens with a frown of momentary consternation twisting his lips but recovers quickly-- more frustrated with himself than anything else. Perhaps the situation is a little more unnerving for the ex-Aesculapian than he has been letting on. He smooths his mussed-up and dirty hair and then shifts the worn clothing on his frame as he clears his throat.
"We are mercenaries representing a multi-national business interest with possible future prospects in the area. We have been tasked with scouting the area in the hopes of ascertaining current population levels, social structure and the state of the environment." He falls into the deception as he speaks, the earlier nervous gestures forgotten as he sets his shoulders and straightens his back, one arm folding behind it. "They also wish to know if there is any chance of corporate competition setting up or currently inhabiting the general vicinity."
He sighs, wondering silently why this wasn't the first idea come manifest in his mind but dwells only briefly on the unproductive thought. He simply has spent too much time in the same role recently and it's reasonable that it might take a few moments to regain his sea-legs, so to speak.
"This cover story should acceptably cover all facets that we need it to and would explain why our dress might not necessarily match our demeanor. It does not necessitate that we establish aliases and we can simply reveal said 'business interest' to be Trinity at a later time should it become necessary. Our transport also fits into this story as we would have needed some way to get here."
Thérèse nods, her frown fading. "Trés bien," she says. "M'sieu Urso, will you lead on?" She settles herself, trying - albeit without much success - to convey a sense of "mercenariness" in her posture, as Frederick has just done.
"Mercs? Yes, that could work nicely. Just be sure to keep me between you and them until the initial negotiations are over."
Thérèse nods, her frown fading. "Trés bien," she says. "M'sieu Urso, will you lead on?" She settles herself, trying - albeit without much success - to convey a sense of "mercenariness" in her posture, as Frederick has just done.
Urso nods, easily shoulders the trade goods, and heads for the access road.
As the group cautiously approaches the access road near the airfield, they hear little more than the sound of their own footfalls upon the dry, scorched earth. They pause for a moment just a few meters from stepping on to the road just to scan their surroundings again. A rusted-out husk of what was once perhaps a minivan sits off to one side of the road with a large white cross painted onto the side facing the highway. It would seem to be a marker of some kind. There are various pieces of debris and vehicle parts, all rusted beyond usefulness, scattered around the area. Looking to the airfield itself, the motorcade is immediately obvious, containing at least half a dozen vehicles, most quite large, and all fitted with varying degrees of weapons and rudimentary armor. Similar religious iconography is evident on all the vehicles.
Spraypainted on the side of one of the blasted-out hangars are numerous verses, including:
"Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. - Matthew 5:5"
"And forgive us our sins; for we also forgive every one that is indebted to us. And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. - Luke 11:4"
There appears to be evidence of frequent combat in the immediate area, with many pockmarks from gunfire and a few spattered bloodstains. There are no bodies to be seen, however. The spraypainting and religious symbols appear to be fairly recent additions as well, the colors are still stark and bold. At this distance, you can make out the vaguest hints of sound coming from the hangar at the far west end of the airfield. The cadence of the sound suggests someone speaking, perhaps a group of people speaking in unison.
Thérèse peers into the darkness, in the direction of the airport tower. "I think I see someone up there," she whispers to the others.
Walking along cautiously, Spyros stares around looking for any kind of heat register oblivious to signs of fanaticism marking the borders. "Still nothing so far... I can hear them, but we're still too far to see anything. Once we move in I might be able to get a body count or at least a general idea."
When Therese mentions the person on the tower, he looks and squints. "I can't see him... How far away is he?"
"A religious gathering." Frederick observes, eying one of the phrases marring scratched and sun-bleached paint as they pass an abandoned truck. "That tends to be a mixed blessing."
He might have intended to elaborate further but Terese's warning cuts him off and he tries to pick out the lookout from the shadows. "We came with plans of making contact, there seems little point in trying to obfuscate our advance now." He glances down at his ratty coat and smooths it over where the small bulge of his pistol might be obvious. "If you notice him making hostile moves I would appreciate a warning, however."
He smiles faintly, already toying with different ways in which to approach the coming confrontation.
When Therese mentions the person on the tower, he looks and squints. "I can't see him... How far away is he?"
"Roughly three hundred meters," Thérèse answers immediately. "There may be more than one person up there; I saw more movement than shape. Regardless, if they have a rifle available to them, we are likely already within range."
"A religious gathering." Frederick observes, eying one of the phrases marring scratched and sun-bleached paint as they pass an abandoned truck. "That tends to be a mixed blessing."
Thérèse offers a low laugh of agreement.
Reading the slogans scrawled on every available surface, Urso is suddenly inundated by the memories of catechism and services at the small church where he grew up. Forcing himself to relax and adopt the best "dumb muscle" look he can muster, he adjusts the weight of the pack and stands up.
"It is time to judge and be judged, amigos. I'll take point. Frederick, try to keep me directly between you and that tower. I get the feeling I can take bullets better than you, irmão."
Unless someone objects, he begins walking slowly toward the sound of chanting, alert for any ambushes along the way.
The group cautiously approaches the access road, bringing themselves into the flickering light of the fire barrels. They continue to watch the shadowy control tower cautiously, waiting for any sign of movement or attack, but it never comes.
The group reaches the tarmac at the far eastern end of the runway, able to see the small airfield in it's entirety. Along the southern end, there are perhaps a dozen hangar bays, many of them flattened and rusted beyond anything resembling usefulness. The one nearest the access road has had the eastern wall propped up by lengths of wood to presumably serve as a billboard of sorts, the eastern face slathered heavily with verses and prayers. Within the remains of that hangar is a large scorched spot on the concrete floor with a framework surrounding it that suggests it frequently hosts bonfires. The airfield appears to be largely deserted except for the chanting emanating from the intact hangar at the far end, but the group makes its way closer to the control tower for a better look.
As they near the tower, they are finally able to make out the humanoid shape Therese had spotted earlier... a man crucifed to the northern face of the control room, his bones exposed through ragged and emaciated flesh. The man has clearly been dead for days, possibly weeks, and the ragged tatters of clothing that still cling to his frame swish intermittantly amidst the nearly non-existant wind.
On the western side of the control tower is another hangar, this one more intact than most, that contains a vast assortment of crates and a few vehicles that appear to be serviceable, if a bit rusted and damaged. The chanting is discernable at this distance, and the nature of the chant is clearly of religious significance.
"Oh Lord, praise be unto you this day for we have cleansed ourselves of Lucifer's taint, another hellspawned vermin sent back from whence he came. Though our trials and tribulations be difficult, your wisdom, your love, and your guidance have seen us through. For this we thank you, Lord, and deliver unto you a sacrifice of our worth and of our flesh."
Urso scowls at the sight of the crucified man. Turning to regard the hangar, he whispers a prayer and crosses himself reflexively.
Portuguese (muttered angrily):
Urso looks around for any obvious entrance to the hangar and approaches it. He looks over his shoulder at Frederick and raises an eyebrow as if to say, "I sure hope you have a plan."
Thérèse pales, visible even in this gloom. "There's a woman in there, crying," she whispers tensely. "I can hear her. I think they may be about to replace that foul decoration with a new one. We must hurry, and pray that I am very, very wrong."
Thérèse pales, visible even in this gloom. "There's a woman in there, crying," she whispers tensely. "I can hear her. I think they may be about to replace that foul decoration with a new one. We must hurry, and pray that I am very, very wrong."
Urso holds up his hand, whispering in the gloom, "She's the widow. Be patient. If we spook them, many will die." He continues moving steadily and at a moderate pace for the door.
The team approaches the massive hangar doors cautiously. There are many places in the corrugated metal frame that have suffered damage and have been subsequently repaired by having boards nailed up or scraps of metal welded on. Places along the sides that may have once hosted windows are also similarly sealed, permitting no visibility within or without. Set into the side of one of the main hangar doors (which do not appear to be functional as doors any longer) is a smaller entrance, blocked off by a heavy steel door that was clearly not part of the original construction.
Inside, the sermon continues:
"Accept our apologies, oh Lord, for one of our own has succumbed to the Devil's wiles. Her wretched spawn, a child of Satan, has been stricken down by the hands of your willing servants and purged from the face of this Earth. We now turn to beg your forgiveness and your blessing as we commit this sinner to the flames."
There is also a person standing just inside the doorway your group has approached, though his thermal image is distorted by his proximity to yet another fire barrel. This one bears another firearm of some kind, perhaps a shotgun by the shape of it. Amongst the main gathering, you note that there are four children. Total adults (including the armed men and the sobbing woman): 21. You do not see evidence of a bonfire or anything of the sort that might be used to presumably burn this woman. You suppose they will likely escort her out to the "burning spot" you all located earlier. Your vision is able to see nearly all of the hangar, but the far side is just out of range. You suspect it's likely there may be another armed sentry there, but you aren't sure.
The entire group feels a very subtle psionic ripple roll off of Urso. His dossier did not specifically mention it, but he's evidently quite a potent psion.
"I will tell you now that this may not go the way you wish it to." Frederick mutters darkly after hearing a bit more of the sermon. His brow is furrowed in concentration but he tilts his head past Urso to indicate that the larger man should increase his pace somewhat. "Every reasonable effort will be made to save the woman but it might not be possible."
"If they are too lost in their fanaticism to sway or too many to overpower we might need to go along with whatever this is to gain access to what we need." He opens his coat slight and adjusts the pistol hidden beneath, making sure that it's easily accessible should the need arise. The suit glanced to each of the other three in turn as he spoke but the look he gives Thérèse carries a more obvious weight.
"But I will do everything in my power to make this--" he cants his head towards a handful of the religious phrases and iconography-- "work for us."
Thérèse is silent for a few moments as the group approaches the doorway. She clears her jacket away from her pistol grip almost unconsciously as she goes. Finally, just before they arrive, she looks at Frederick. "I will not sacrifice the right thing for the sake of expedience. Not again." She takes visible control of herself before adding, "Just remember that as you do what it is you do."
"My god- If they are going to burn her for a miscarriage
then how are they going to receive us?"
"Okay listen up- I can't see everything, but it looks like we've got at least twenty in there. Kids too... I can see four of them. Judging by the shape I'm going to say they have a couple of assault rifles and one guy has... I don't know... maybe a shotgun? They might have another guard on the other wall, but I can't quite see that far."
"Hang back for a minute... If they are going to burn this woman I don't think they are going to do it indoors. Besides they don't have a bonfire built or anything. Didn't we pass some kind of execution style burn pit earlier? I'd bet that's where they are headed."
"A good point," Thérèse says, relaxing slightly. Three weapons, possibly four. Will fanatics run into gunfire? Those numbers are not good...
"It sounds more like they murdered the newborn and now plan to punish the mother for copulating." Frederick observes with a glance at Spyros, his expression remarkably neutral considering the unsavory nature of the topic at hand. "Perhaps the sect... suggests celibacy."
"We can wait until they leave the building-- assuming they plan to-- so we are not stuck in tight quarters should this escalate to violence. If we are forced into a firefight it would seem logical to eliminate the armed individuals first, yes?" He looks to Urso for confirmation on that simple point, making sure that they're all in agreement before he asks of Spyros and Thérèse; "Neither of you are aware of additional persons in the immediate vicinity?"
"Neither of you are aware of additional persons in the immediate vicinity?"
Thérèse shakes her head, but glances both at Spyros and at Urso.
Urso's voice is little more than a deep, rumbling growl, hinting at the events to come. "I do not think that we can save the woman and avoid bloodshed, and our timeline is not long enough for one of us to become the leader of this cult. Should the worst happen, we kill only the armed people and drive the rest away. Once we have finished what we came here to do, they can reclaim this forsaken place."
At the question of sensing others, Urso shakes his head. "The only people I sense are us and those inside. Be aware that they will likely consider us demons if we manifest our abilities openly."
Thérèse frowns. "Now we must make another decision, and we must make it quickly. Do we prepare ourselves for an assault here, where we can use cover and the darkness to give ourselves an advantage for combat, or proceed with Frederick's plan to present ourselves openly, sacrificing the tactical edge in the hopes of a peaceful resolution?" She glances around at her companions, her low voice carrying no farther than their ears - or so she hopes. "We must remember that a woman's life may be at stake, but we cannot yet know that. We only know that something is happening soon, and if we draw weapons, lives will be on the line."
Urso narrows his eyes.
"Lives are already on the line. It is naive to think otherwise. We are to be covert, gathering intel, not soothing your conscience. This woman may be beyond our help, and you need to steel yourself against endangering the mission solely out of your own guilt."
Thérèse narrows hers right back at him. "Don't presume to judge me or my guilt, filho. You can lecture these others all you like about the 'need to be able to kill' and how 'not everyone has it in them to be a killer,' but I have seen combat, I have taken lives, and I promise you this, the next time I do so it will be for the right reasons. And as for the mission, it might have occured to you that we are already quite far off-book. What we do now is up to us, not to the Trinity or anyone else."
Brow furrowed, Spyros interjects, "We take out the gunmen she lives for the moment, we'll grab one of these killdozers and hide our plane, find out what we need to know and get on our way. Deal? We can keep our cover story. But we need to hit them once they are outside."
"Urso has a point with the demon thing. Let's keep a low profile on the flahy-psi front."
The assembled group inside the hangar has begun some form of Latin prayer while you conduct your discussion outside. None of you are really sure what is being said, but the cadence of the chant seems to indicate that it will soon draw to a close. You likely have less than a minute to prepare before the assembly will emerge. What are you doing?
Brow furrowed, Spyros interjects, "We take out the gunmen she lives for the moment, we'll grab one of these killdozers and hide our plane, find out what we need to know and get on our way. Deal? We can keep our cover story. But we need to hit them once they are outside."
"Urso has a point with the demon thing. Let's keep a low profile on the flahy-psi front."
Thérèse nods, but she does not look away from Urso.
"Their rigs are too close to the hangar for my tastes. I don't want to be in the thick of it if things get out of hand. Frederick, if you still want to open with diplomacy I'm all for it, but right now I'm going to get to some cover in case things take a turn for the worse."
Urso smirks at Therese. "If you have seen combat, menina, you should not let your emotions rule your head. Whatever you carry on your shoulders, now is not the right time for 'the right reasons'."
Urso turns his back on Therese, addressing Spyros. "Since it is a foregone conclusion that this will end in violence, you may want to take cover in the motorcade, keeping a line of fire to the burn pit. We will need the cover fire."
Urso turns to the other members. "We should set up station near the burn pit and attempt a little diplomacy. If that fails, we take cover and remove the threats. With a little luck, it won't come to that, but if we have to fight, do so with efficiency and not mercy. Mercy gets you killed on the battlefield."
"The fact that you think there is ever a time for anything other than the right reasons frightens me no end," Thérèse mutters, shaking her head.
Urso turns his back on Therese, addressing Spyros. "Since it is a foregone conclusion that this will end in violence, you may want to take cover in the motorcade, keeping a line of fire to the burn pit. We will need the cover fire."
Urso turns to the other members. "We should set up station near the burn pit and attempt a little diplomacy. If that fails, we take cover and remove the threats. With a little luck, it won't come to that, but if we have to fight, do so with efficiency and not mercy. Mercy gets you killed on the battlefield."
"Spyros, you and I can provide cover fire from concealed positions near the station. We can leave our condescending Norça to provide more direct protection for Frederick while he makes his pitch." Thérèse looks over her shoulder at the hangar. "We need to move. They will be coming out in moments."
Urso shrugs, "Works for me. Fewer of us they see, the less they may spook. Frederick, let us start the dance." Urso heads briskly for the agreed upon meeting point.
For whatever reason, Frederick remained silent while Urso and Thérèse had it out-- simply standing there looking between the two as if he were studying them and filing away little bits of information for future reference.
Once they've stopped and tactical plans are being made he does finally nod and motion Urso on, pausing only for a few last words with Thérèse. "I understand your point and can empathize with where you are coming from but what we do or do not accomplish here has the potential to greatly effect the healing and reshaping of our crippled world. Saving this one woman here may cost many others their lives in the near future. Please, trust me to make the right decision, I would never throw away any life lightly."
He smiles a faint, reassuring smile and offers a shallow nod, turning to follow his large escort so that Thérèse might make her own decision without him there looming over her. He said his peace and has no desire to make the woman feel cornered.
"Good luck." He offers in passing to Spyros and then jogs a few steps to catch up with Urso, patting the man once on the back to signal his arrival.
Therese and Spyro move quickly to hide themselves amongst the remains of one of the toppled hangars, peering over the edge to look upon their companions taking a stand near the "burn pit" some 30m away. Urso watches them as they duck down into their positions while Frederick clears his throat and waits for the zealots to emerge.
Only scant moments later, the murmur of prayer dies down and the sound of groaning metal rings out to signal the opening of the doorway on the north side of the hangar. The guardsman who stood behind the door emerges, shotgun leading, and scans the immediate vicinity. He is followed immediately after by an older-looking man, bedraggled and dirty, with a look of madness in his eyes. The rest of the procession, including two large men bearing the sobbing woman, filters out afterwards. The group spots the two obvious team members and stops, several raising weapons in their direction. The wild-eyed old man grins a nearly-toothless grin and raises a hand to stay the others. The procession stops and the old man steps forward.
"Who are you, lonely sheep? Have you come to receive the Lord's blessing this evening? I would welcome all who seek shelter to our fellowship in these dark times. It is naught but the grace of God that sustains us in these nights." The man's smile is disconcerting, but his voice has an eerie calm to it. Were he sane and clean, he would likely make a successful evangelist.
Also, I assume there's no way for me to focus on the disturbance to localize it?
Thérèse's eyes narrow in her hiding place, her weapon out and trained on the group's leader as she scans across the "congregation." It might have been something Urso did, she thinks, or maybe the priest is a latent. That could be it... Somehow, she's having trouble believing it.
"The fires caught our attentions and the holy words and markings drew us in until we could hear your sermon, preacher." Frederick responds in a voice lightened by awe, the smile on his face sublime. He stays behind Urso but slightly to one side so that the bulk of his smaller frame is easy for the paranoid guardsmen to see. The psion also keeps his hands out to the side, open, and elevated slightly in a position of simple submission-- he means no harm.
"We were surprised to find a House of Worship in this blighted land-- I feel my heart has lifted with hope to see that He has not been forgotten in this place." His gaze shifts as he talks, ever flitting back to the preacher but examining the armed guards, escort, and weeping woman all in turn. "What sort of service is it that you're holding now, preacher, if I may be so bold as to wonder?"
The preacher's smile widens, if such could even be possible, and he raises his hands as if to hug Frederick from afar. "Praise the Lord, brothers and sisters, more of the faithful have come to us this evening!" He turns to face his congregation, who all cheer and applaud, offering various 'Hallelujahs' and 'Praise Jesus'es to the night.
The wizened man then turns back to Frederick and Urso, his expression still filled with excitement, but with an edge of darkness to it. "My children, you have come to us on the eve of a sinner's destruction. This woman you see behind me has consorted with the Devil and given birth to his unholy child! We have seen it with the Lord's guidance, however, and lo the ill-spawned babe has been sent back to Hell. The woman must be cast out as an offering to the Lord for His forgiveness. He are about to carry out her sacrifice. You are most welcome to join us, brothers. We welcome you to our home."