Friday, June 6, 2008

A Simple Flashback: 2

Anastacia Sliebowitz was not happy. She looked over the gears in her hangar with a mix of disgust, relief and annoyance: disgust that her gears - hers because she maintained all of them - were all damaged badly. Relief that despite the fact that so much of her gears had been turned to scrap, not a single pilot was dead. In fact, all the Regulators had survived. But there was annoyance. She had an hour before the recon team set out, and she had more than a day's work to do.

Lloyd Dunn sighed angrily to himself, sitting in his office just down from the Regulators' building. He couldn't escape the fact that at least some of what Delacroix had said was spot on. He was wrong not to have trusted the marshal with the information about those gears. He knew it. And there wasn't any way to make it up to him either. Dunn frowned and put it out of his mind, focusing on the datadisk readout in front of him. The AST Mission requested his presence tomorrow morning. Time was running out for Baja.

Julie Pojhola was crying. She sat in her room in the Hangover Inn, cradling a picture of her daughter. She blinked through tears, gazing at her daughter's face. She hadn't been able to carry out Hill's orders to kill Kain and Sam. The New Baja Gang would know that something was wrong. Julie's daughter was in terrible danger. After a moment, she put the holopicture away and checked the safety on her pistol. It was time to put an end to this.

The Regulator recon team was tired, but they kept up a strong front. Avatanya sat quietly and clenaed her assault rifle. Josephina nodded off in a corner of the armoury, her armour and weapons ready beside her. Emil sat cross-legged on the floor, triple checking primer cord, satchel charges and detonators with practiced ease. Ethan hummed quietly, running some diagnostics on his electronics rig. Kelly was curled up on a bench, writing a letter that would never reach her family. The Regulators were tired, dirty and bloody. But they kept up a strong front.

Preston Hill frowned darkly as he sat in the jeep, leaning against the door. The car sped along some old road in the Karak Wastes. It was late afternoon and he was deeply, deeply troubled. Preston was not a pawn of the Southern Republic. He repeated the statement in his mind like a mantra, but the marshal's words kept bothering him. His gang, his ideals, his life had been subverted by imperialism, greed and violence. A nerve gas attack on civilians! Indiscriminate shelling of Baja. The destruction of Baja's only surviving water tower. He never wanted any of this. He was right not to have trusted Xiao, but all that was over. Preston Hill sighed and gave a sidelong glare at the mercenary driving the jeep. He would have to figure something out, and fast.


Hermes 72 - Heavy Gear RPG - Most artwork Copyright 2002 Dream Pod 9, Inc.