Coluans. She could barely tolerate them at the best of times. Give them their insufferable egos and combine that with blind, unyielding panic and you got an obnoxious mixture where everyone thought they were the most important person to evacuate. Such as the man throwing a temper tantrum at the hover lifters where a pregnant Coluan was taking up two spaces, one of which could've been used for him.
America had stepped in, listened to his grievances, letting the vitrol in his fear-filled voice wash over her. It takes about three minutes to wind down. Then she'd handcuffed him to the guard rail. His response was probably predictable. Ignoring the scene he's causing, she moves on.
After a conversation with the hover lift operator, she moves on to check with the other Legionnaire present. "Any word on when we're expecting the next batch of refugees?"
B: EMERGENCY MEDICAL TREATMENT
They'd been escorting a small group of survivors together, America and the other Legionnaire, trying to hit the nearest evac point. Unfortunately, a chance encounter with a swarm meant that they had to lay low for a little while. No comms for fear of being picked up. As little noise as possible.
Unfortunately, that's when one of their escortees pulled America aside for a quick chat and they'd vanished. By now, it's been over five minutes, but the swarms have cleared enough for them to move on. Everyone's ready except America and the straggler.
They're easy to find, at least. There's the sound of muffled protestations behind one of the doors and, when it's pushed open, America's partner is greeted with the sight of the Judge sitting on the Coluan's back. The man has a glove stuffed into his mouth and what appears to be a slowly growing patch of greenish chrome creeping up his fore-arm. She doesn't look up at the intrusion, which is fortunate given the twin red, white, and blue beams of energy shooting from her eyes, slowly heating up the blade of her boot knife.
"Oh, good. You're here. Hold him down, he's a bit of a squirmer."
no subject
Coluans. She could barely tolerate them at the best of times. Give them their insufferable egos and combine that with blind, unyielding panic and you got an obnoxious mixture where everyone thought they were the most important person to evacuate. Such as the man throwing a temper tantrum at the hover lifters where a pregnant Coluan was taking up two spaces, one of which could've been used for him.
America had stepped in, listened to his grievances, letting the vitrol in his fear-filled voice wash over her. It takes about three minutes to wind down. Then she'd handcuffed him to the guard rail. His response was probably predictable. Ignoring the scene he's causing, she moves on.
After a conversation with the hover lift operator, she moves on to check with the other Legionnaire present. "Any word on when we're expecting the next batch of refugees?"
B: EMERGENCY MEDICAL TREATMENT
They'd been escorting a small group of survivors together, America and the other Legionnaire, trying to hit the nearest evac point. Unfortunately, a chance encounter with a swarm meant that they had to lay low for a little while. No comms for fear of being picked up. As little noise as possible.
Unfortunately, that's when one of their escortees pulled America aside for a quick chat and they'd vanished. By now, it's been over five minutes, but the swarms have cleared enough for them to move on. Everyone's ready except America and the straggler.
They're easy to find, at least. There's the sound of muffled protestations behind one of the doors and, when it's pushed open, America's partner is greeted with the sight of the Judge sitting on the Coluan's back. The man has a glove stuffed into his mouth and what appears to be a slowly growing patch of greenish chrome creeping up his fore-arm. She doesn't look up at the intrusion, which is fortunate given the twin red, white, and blue beams of energy shooting from her eyes, slowly heating up the blade of her boot knife.
"Oh, good. You're here. Hold him down, he's a bit of a squirmer."