04-12-2016, 05:48 PM
A few blocks away, the two smaller primes managed to bring their flight from the breadlines to a stop. With a grunt, Mickey dropped down to the ground and turned his indignation toward Mireya. “Why did we run? We could have helped those people!”
“Help them with that?” The half-night elf demanded. “We’ve walked passed effigies of the Proto Mouse being burn from street lights! You two need to figure out the circles that were receptive to Gilgamesh being overthrown, and that is where the two of you need to direct your senseless urge to be everyone else’s bullet shields.”
At that, Mickey Mouse fell silent, and his robotic companion didn’t bother to make any comments. He simply pulled up the map they had been following and ensured that it was still calibrated to their location. “The place is the next street over…” he muttered as the trio continued toward their destination.
When they arrived at the former crown property half a minute later, not one of them was very satisfied with the scorched, crumbling structure. “It’s just for right now,” Mireya remarked as she hopped up and slipped into a large hole that may have been a window in a past life. When she was through, she popped half her body back out and offered a hand to help up her two smaller friends. After they were inside the building, the half-night elf glanced back out into the alley and mumbled some words to herself.
“This place looks horrible,” Mickey muttered as he walked over to what appeared to be a former desk. Broken chunks of wood were blackened by fire, and there were still singed clumps of what may have been rope or paper. “What did you say they did here?”
Proto Man shrugged his shoulders. “All I know is that this place was owned by the government.”
“Owned by Gilgamesh.” Mireya clarified as she looked at what seemed to be a bronze bust of the ‘deceased’ leader. “I think your guess is as good as mine when it comes to figuring out what this or any of those other buildings were used for. Espionage headquarters. Torture location. Smuggling materiel.”
“Could have been, like, an office building or something…” Mickey mumbled as he looked into the shattered remains of a burnt out crate. “Maybe the people here operated stores or something? We shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
“Those people out there were quick to judge the two of you,” Mireya shot back as she pushed the Gilgamesh bust off of its pedestal and into the broken remains of another box.
“They were scared.”
Mireya glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “They were angry.”
Proto Man didn’t like the way that the conversation was headed. He frowned as he made his way to the other end of the large room. It was obvious to him that the building was probably used for completely legitimate purposes. While he had no love for the removed dictator, he lacked the perfected cynicism of their multiracial friend. Until he found some sort of secret death chamber, he’d go about believing this was just the Nippur equivalent of an office building.
“What’s our next move?” Mickey asked as the mouse settled onto a small stool. Reaching up to his head, he removed the turban and set it on the nearby remains of a desk.
At that, the half-night elf finally shrugged her shoulders and answered without much certainty. “No clue.” She spoke as she started to unload her weapons and satchels onto the floor. “You want me to scout a forest? I’m your lady. You want me to track someone? I’m your lady. Hell, you want me to build you a house? I’m your lady. I’m afraid that ‘public relations’ isn’t really my forte. Otherwise I probably would still be a blissful citizen of Camelot’s outlying duchies.
“There’s got to be ways we can help out.” Proto Man remarked as he tried to pull up all the literature on Nippur from the last few weeks. “Maybe not something like, with lots of pomp and grandeur, but something that will help people. Volunteer work, perhaps?”
“I hear we got a master house builder in our group,” Mickey said with a grin as he looked over toward the mauve-skinned hunter.
“Somehow I expected that I would wind up regretting that remark,” Mireya shot back with a shake of her head.
Proto Man found something of interest on the Dataverse and projected it in the air for the others to read for themselves. “This article says there’s a nonprofit organization here in Nippur that’s been trying to bring in caravans of supplies from the hinterland. It says they’ve been having a lot of issues trying to bring in simple things like water and bread.”
“Hence the lines,” Mireya remarked, eliciting a nod from both of her small friends. The half-night elf leaned forward and read the remainder of the article before nodding her head. “They need some muscle to guard incoming caravans.” She looked over at Mickey and Proto Man. “I think that’s right down our alley.”
Mickey frowned. “We’re going to help people by hurting other people?”
“We don’t have to hurt anyone,” Mireya remarked, ignoring what would have otherwise been bait for another philosophical back-and-forth. “You two being there might be more than enough to scare away whatever petty pendejos are messing with these aid convoys.”
“That’s true,” Mickey muttered as he looked over to Proto Man. “What do you think, Blues?”
“I like it,” the android shot back as he glanced over at his friend and smiled. “Something like that shouldn’t be too tricky.”
“Where do we find these people?” Mireya inquired before adding another obvious question. “And for the record, who are these people?”
Proto Man scanned the rest of the article to find the answer. “I have the address… They call themselves ‘the Gold Cross’.”
“We can head over there tomorrow,” Mireya interjected before either of the smaller primes could make the call for her. “It’s been a long day, and while you two might be able to go all night, I could use a catnap.”
The red robot smiled as the woman settled onto the floor. “Tomorrow sounds good.” He said as he looked over and shared a quick nod with Mickey.
“Help them with that?” The half-night elf demanded. “We’ve walked passed effigies of the Proto Mouse being burn from street lights! You two need to figure out the circles that were receptive to Gilgamesh being overthrown, and that is where the two of you need to direct your senseless urge to be everyone else’s bullet shields.”
At that, Mickey Mouse fell silent, and his robotic companion didn’t bother to make any comments. He simply pulled up the map they had been following and ensured that it was still calibrated to their location. “The place is the next street over…” he muttered as the trio continued toward their destination.
When they arrived at the former crown property half a minute later, not one of them was very satisfied with the scorched, crumbling structure. “It’s just for right now,” Mireya remarked as she hopped up and slipped into a large hole that may have been a window in a past life. When she was through, she popped half her body back out and offered a hand to help up her two smaller friends. After they were inside the building, the half-night elf glanced back out into the alley and mumbled some words to herself.
“This place looks horrible,” Mickey muttered as he walked over to what appeared to be a former desk. Broken chunks of wood were blackened by fire, and there were still singed clumps of what may have been rope or paper. “What did you say they did here?”
Proto Man shrugged his shoulders. “All I know is that this place was owned by the government.”
“Owned by Gilgamesh.” Mireya clarified as she looked at what seemed to be a bronze bust of the ‘deceased’ leader. “I think your guess is as good as mine when it comes to figuring out what this or any of those other buildings were used for. Espionage headquarters. Torture location. Smuggling materiel.”
“Could have been, like, an office building or something…” Mickey mumbled as he looked into the shattered remains of a burnt out crate. “Maybe the people here operated stores or something? We shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
“Those people out there were quick to judge the two of you,” Mireya shot back as she pushed the Gilgamesh bust off of its pedestal and into the broken remains of another box.
“They were scared.”
Mireya glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “They were angry.”
Proto Man didn’t like the way that the conversation was headed. He frowned as he made his way to the other end of the large room. It was obvious to him that the building was probably used for completely legitimate purposes. While he had no love for the removed dictator, he lacked the perfected cynicism of their multiracial friend. Until he found some sort of secret death chamber, he’d go about believing this was just the Nippur equivalent of an office building.
“What’s our next move?” Mickey asked as the mouse settled onto a small stool. Reaching up to his head, he removed the turban and set it on the nearby remains of a desk.
At that, the half-night elf finally shrugged her shoulders and answered without much certainty. “No clue.” She spoke as she started to unload her weapons and satchels onto the floor. “You want me to scout a forest? I’m your lady. You want me to track someone? I’m your lady. Hell, you want me to build you a house? I’m your lady. I’m afraid that ‘public relations’ isn’t really my forte. Otherwise I probably would still be a blissful citizen of Camelot’s outlying duchies.
“There’s got to be ways we can help out.” Proto Man remarked as he tried to pull up all the literature on Nippur from the last few weeks. “Maybe not something like, with lots of pomp and grandeur, but something that will help people. Volunteer work, perhaps?”
“I hear we got a master house builder in our group,” Mickey said with a grin as he looked over toward the mauve-skinned hunter.
“Somehow I expected that I would wind up regretting that remark,” Mireya shot back with a shake of her head.
Proto Man found something of interest on the Dataverse and projected it in the air for the others to read for themselves. “This article says there’s a nonprofit organization here in Nippur that’s been trying to bring in caravans of supplies from the hinterland. It says they’ve been having a lot of issues trying to bring in simple things like water and bread.”
“Hence the lines,” Mireya remarked, eliciting a nod from both of her small friends. The half-night elf leaned forward and read the remainder of the article before nodding her head. “They need some muscle to guard incoming caravans.” She looked over at Mickey and Proto Man. “I think that’s right down our alley.”
Mickey frowned. “We’re going to help people by hurting other people?”
“We don’t have to hurt anyone,” Mireya remarked, ignoring what would have otherwise been bait for another philosophical back-and-forth. “You two being there might be more than enough to scare away whatever petty pendejos are messing with these aid convoys.”
“That’s true,” Mickey muttered as he looked over to Proto Man. “What do you think, Blues?”
“I like it,” the android shot back as he glanced over at his friend and smiled. “Something like that shouldn’t be too tricky.”
“Where do we find these people?” Mireya inquired before adding another obvious question. “And for the record, who are these people?”
Proto Man scanned the rest of the article to find the answer. “I have the address… They call themselves ‘the Gold Cross’.”
“We can head over there tomorrow,” Mireya interjected before either of the smaller primes could make the call for her. “It’s been a long day, and while you two might be able to go all night, I could use a catnap.”
The red robot smiled as the woman settled onto the floor. “Tomorrow sounds good.” He said as he looked over and shared a quick nod with Mickey.