Summary:With a little ingenuity Hank and Neena get word out to RESCUE for a rescue. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Darkness. An incredible weight. And… Warmth? The warmest Domino's felt ever since having returned from the Abyss. But with the comfort of warmth also comes a pressure which makes it difficult to find breath. An ache her entire body over. Also a complete..inability..to move…
Also half of her face is covered in fur. Covered..? No. -Buried.-
"Ah…" she croaks, her voice ragged and raw. "Uh, Hank—jeezus feel like I fell off a building - - Hank. Buddy. I can't..I can't move. Hello? Wake up, McCoy - - aah my head's killing me…" she hisses slightly. "Don't make me go to Plan B here. Just..if you could..maybe a little..rrrf! Roll over, BigMac!"
*
Darkness, and a woman's curves wrapped up in strong arms, he starts to murmur one name…then his nostrils flare and he scents entirely another. Shock stiffens his whole frame. "Neena?" He rumbles more than says, and then he hurriedly releases her, trying to gather scattered wits enough to figure out what happened. "I…there was a fight. I remember…hounds, you almost shot me…" Hank is /clearly/ straining to remember, Dom's demon-eyes able to see the befuddled look on his face.
"Hounds…and blood…and then pain and anger." A sigh. "I got nothing else, just…snippets. Do /you/ recall?" He rises apparently mostly recovered, though he grimaces when he feels the matted fur, the overwhelming effluvium of the dead Matron Nova Hound, the rot of the subway, more rust than the blood stink, /actual/ rust. "Smells like death in here."
*
"Last I checked" Neena grumbles with a sharp wince. "Expecting someone else?"
The mere act of Hank rolling away brings with it a whole new world of hurt for the albino. With so many fresh lacerations having begun to scab over the fur overlay is like ripping off a sheet of Velcro. "Ah..ah Aaaah - - Dammit be careful you dolt! I - - whoooah my head's heavy" she breathes out before going fairly limp. When she speaks again her voice is more distant and hazy. "I don't mean to alarm yooouuu, but..I maaaay have lost a -little- bit of blood—fuck ow!"
Once free of the other mutant the albino slowly rolls to one side. Hank will be able to hear the sticky sound of congealed blood being separated between her and the floor of the old railcar.
"Gahdamn it is -rank- down here. Love wakin' up to that fresh corpse musk," she says with a sigh.
Pausing while half on her side she nods a little then seems to realize that he probably can't see it. "Yeah. I remember. You were quiiite the powerhouse. We're beneath the basement of some twice-baked diner. And my -target-" she seethes while gently feeling one side of her head "turned out to have a twin. And a mother. Lucky you were around—did you say I almost shot you?"
She pauses again, blinks once, then lightly dips her head. "Sounds like something I'd do."
*
"I've…only woken up with one other woman in my arms, my girlfriend. So yes…I kind of was." Hank admits rubbing at the back of his neck. "Gah. I /reek/. So much blood….the stink in here is going to kill me." He rummages about, and then sighs with relieve when he finds an…eyeglasses case? Whiskey Tango the hell Foxtrot!?
He'd wince at her cursing and the pain he caused. "M'sorry." Opening the glasses case he takes out a what looks to be some very 1950's looking reading glasses, which he puts on, then taps the side of the frames, and starts typing in the air.
The glasses morph, and become something more like Gargoyles with clear yellow lenses. "Ah…here we go…might want to avert your eyes." He'll wait a moment, and then a small sphere of light will just sort of grow like an old CRT TV being shut down, only played in reverse.
The ball of light floats just over and behind his head, and provides ample light for both of them. "Much…OH MY STARS AND GARTERS…don't move…"
He frantically starts rummaging through his pouches on the harness he wears, and then digs out some medical supplies. "Alas, this is primitive, just some basic stuff, but let me look at those wounds. Don't move any more than you have to…"
*
"You have a girlfriend?" Dom asks with a note of curiosity. "Eugh, we -all- reek" she corrects while also implying the hound corpse not far away. "I won't say anything if you don't."
"Hey Doc, nice specs" she deadpans with a faint smirk. The suggestion to look away is..odd..but a hand comes up to shield her eyes and it turns out to have been the right call to make. One ethereal sphere of light surrounded by so much darkness is pretty damn atmospheric. And bright. Because -anything- down here is really damn bright.
"Mmh?" the albino distantly inquires while trying to glance down at herself. "Oh..s'nothing. I've had worse. All I need is a cold beeAUH Dammit!" She goes right back to lying still with a muttered "Changed my mind."
*
"You sound surprised." Hank murmurs. Honestly, so's he. Every day. "We do." Reek. "Hopefully we'll not end up like the one in Game of Thrones."
He smirks at little at the 'compliment' abou7t his glasses. "Thank you, Neena." He half purrs before morphing them. "Thankfully I was able to restrain the urge to say 'let there be light'."
Well, until /after/ the fact.
"It is /not/ nothing." He states firmly, and then points an imperious (and beclawed) finger. "Sit down." His voice brooks no contradiction.
Once she's seated he will clean her wounds carefully, bandage what he can, fortunately he has a spray bandage that also has antibiotic properties. And then he takes out medijector - she's seen it's like before, but he doesn't just dope her the hell up, nope, he fiddles with it. "This will help with the pain but not impair your reason." If she doesn't stop him, he presses the hypo-spray to her throat, and gives her a hit that really does a fair job of dulling and distancing the pain.
*
"Maybe a little" Neena admits. Soon following is a snicker, the bloodied and battered merc staring back at the Doctor with big eyes. "Did you just -purr?- Admit it, that totally sounded like a purr. Ha—ow."
To being bossed around she makes a show of rolling her eyes and muttering "Whatever" before sloooowly easing down into one of the rickety old railcar seats. "Fine. Let's play some Doctor. Might as well make use of being stuck in the ass end of New York with one of the smartest minds on the planet" she grumps while pulling out a small field medicine pack from her own harness for him to use.
When Hank starts with an injector of any kind going towards her -throat- no thought is given to firmly catching his wrist while her other hand falls to the grip of one of her holstered pistols. Both run completely on automation.
Those two eyes gleaming in the darkness stare long and hard at the other mutant before she reluctantly lets go of his wrist and takes a deep breath. Eye contact is never broken despite tipping her head back and to the side, just enough.
She still doesn't let go of the gun strapped to her leg. Not even after the shot's been given. Not until she's given it a mental count of thirty does she start to relax.
"Don't take too long. We still have to find a way out of here."
*
"No." He didn't purr, REAL purring takes specialized anatomy he lacks - so, *obviously* he did not 'purr', his TONE might have been akin, but it was NOT, technically, a 'purr'. So there.
Hank just nods approval when Neena sits, she can roll her eyes all she wants, just so she complies. He does TRY to be gentle about things - he just has limited options until he administers that shot.
"Alas, we're too deep for my comms to reach the surface, we'll need to either dig ourselves out, which is a risky proposition or perhaps find a way to signal boost the broadcast…perhaps improvise an antenna…"
Yeah, he's rather 'thinky', Hank's mind is elsewhere as he treats her injuries on the sort of autopilot that speaks of years of practice.
He comes back to himself when she grips her gun and his wrist. He stops, immediately, and waits for permission, and then finally gives her the shot. "Sorry this couldn't have been first, but I needed to see what hurt and where. Fortunately you didn't break anything, though I believe there's some bone /bruising/."
Rising, he starts exploring the trolley car, and then the section of track. "Come on…" He leads the way a short distance until he finds some old (rusty) bracing, all metal. "This might do…"
*
The pale lady sits still and lets Hank work with her jaw set against the pain. This is a perfectly familiar, if not exactly comfortable, sequence of events for her. It doesn't take a doctorate to realize that all of the scars lying beneath the thermal layers are from 'quick and dirty' field medicine, likely done by her own hand some time after the fact.
Having someone on hand to help is something of a novelty.
An antenna? "Aren't we parked on a rail line? How much metal do you need?"
Once the shot has been administered she (slowly) reaches for her phone and checks it over. The screen is cracked but it still seems to work. More importantly, perhaps, it has a lot of battery life left. She offers it over, it's up to Hank if he thinks he can make use of it.
"Not even I'm lucky enough to have a signal down here, but… Well, you're the egghead of this sitch."
With half of the railcar already destroyed she steps up over a seat and climbs out onto the subway platform. "God, I could really use a—" she stops short and tilts her head to one side. Is that..?
Dom smirks faintly and voices a soft "Heh" before bracing an arm against a tile-laiden pillar to reach down for..a bottle of Jim Beam. Still sealed! "Hey Hank," she calls back. "Sealed whiskey doesn't go bad, does it?"
Of course, trying to get the damn bottle OPEN is a little more challenging with her injuries but she perseveres!
*
No, it doesn't take a doctorate, and Hank's expertise is a skill he truly wishes he had less practice at!
The novelty of the situation is pretty well lost on him, but he's used to being part of a team, so…yeah, Hank is used to having help around fairly often. Something those lone wolf-she assassin merc types wouldn't know much about.
Though…perhaps she might be learning?
Hank accepts the phone, and soon strips it for parts, using it as a booster, and then wiring it to the metal frame. "Well…the tracks are still down here, what we need is a 'path' through the rubble, which structural supports might offer."
He's just about to call for help when the whiskey bottle question is asked. "Not usually, no." He takes it from her hands if Dommie permits, then effortlessly unseals the thing…and sniffs. "Actually, smells really smooth." And hands it back to her.
Miles away at the RESCUE campus, a weak signal comes in on one of the reserved frequencies. "This…skrrrRRrk…Hank Mc….hissSSssst…we are in SKRREEEEE….stress." More static, then a weak locator beacon, starts to pulse, the geo tags putting the signal about two or three stories UNDER the Disaster ZOne.
The audio track repeats, eventually resolving after many repeats to: "This is Hank McCoy…Domino and I are in distress, buried…need assistance." Coordinates are also spoken, just in case.
*
A path through the rubble leaves Neena stating "You're a smart guy. You'll figure it out." Maybe her way of 'helping' is to stay the heck out of his way? Still, she seems oddly casual about the situation. Like she's not even a little bit concerned. Perhaps the bloodloss has left her foggy.
The bottle is surrendered so that Hank can break the seal and get it started. No more words follow until she takes a drink from the aged bottle, soon voicing another soft "Hmm. This'll do."
While he's working up his SCIENCE! she takes the opportunity to simply walk around and work out some of the muscular kinks which have already had ample time to take a set. Only after he's gotten the message out and seems to leave things be does she return with bottle in hand to offer to the other mutant.
It comes with a slight frown as she gives him a peculiar looking over. "Hey. You've got one of those healing factors, right? Which means all of that blood is either mine or the hound's?"
A hand reaches forward to lightly poke at a suspicious looking mark at his neck.
*
The call comes in, and one of the guys in the communications stations speaks up. "Hey, Sarge? We have a distorted transmisison, here. Seems like it has half of a RESCUE identifier."
One of the other guys pipes up. "What? How can it have half an identifier?" He walks over to the station and tries to help work things out. As soon as he hears the transmission, though, he too calls out. "Sarge, that sounds like McCoy. Don't know how, but I think this's legit."
They put the transmission on the speakers for Posse and the rest of the crew to hear, even as they continue to try to make sense of the scrambled and weak locator and identifier.
*
Situated in back of the command center, Posse looks up from her arc of displays while discretely minimizing her browser and furrows her pale brow. "That's Dr. McCoy alright. Get me intel on that GPS fix and the closest things we've got to tunnel rats - start with drones," she orders without missing a beat before turning to the phone that, like most things at her station, is to her right. A long press of speed dial is all it takes to ring through the campus' intercom system to a certain lab.
"Hey Doc, it's Posse. TacCom picked up a distress beacon from McCoy and Tamara. They're buried somewhere nearby - we're getting a fix now."
*
Hank repeats the broadcast twice, adds the geo tags, and then activates his locator beacon, Dommie's phone probably not going to survive the experience in the long run. "I backed up your phone to my visor, we can download to a new one up top." He mentions offhandedly. Now that the beacon is playing, Hank will also search the area, though he stops when Dom approaches, and takes a hit off the bottle. "We really need -water-, that said…that was the best Jim Bean ever."
The question draws a faint frown. "I /do/ have a healing factor, and I think a lot of the blood fouling my fur is my own, shoulders are a bit stiff, collarbone aches…" His fingertips raise to the spot indicated, and return with some fresh red on them.
A nod. "So…good eye, first of all, second…can you help me clean it? Then hit it with the spray bandage, please."
Hank'll even sit down and make it -easy- for the Murder Cookie, see…this is how you do it!
*
Hearing that call, Dr. Kelsey looks up in her lab and frowns. "Acknowledged." she calls out. Then, "Cassandra, please save all work. Render lab iso chamber safe and secured. Shift lights to green when complete." Then she issues the commands to spin up and prep the Augmenta armor.
Rambler drones are prepped and launched, heading off-campus towards the geotag beacons as they try to get better readings, always narrowing towards the stronger fragments of signal. Humblebees are launched to keep an eye on everything and everyone in the area, their cooperative programming making rapid work of pinning down the closest location to the signal … which, given the physics of resistance and interference, may not be the closest location to where they actually are. But they have to start somewhere.
The guys in the communications team manage to get verification on the butchered ident tag, and then pull up the past locator pings on McCoy's communications for the entire day, trying to put together a picture of what has been going on leading up to that call.
*
"What? Oh," Neena seems confused by the concept of backing up her device. She's so used to going through them like they're going out of style! "Hey. Do the best you can with what you've got. What -I've- got is half a war's worth of injuries and a frickin' Jim."
To this effect the albino takes another drink from the bottle then pours some onto a clean bandage. "Swear if it'll make you feel better" is the only words of warning he'll get before she presses the soaked gauze to the puncture marks. It's not elegant but it'll do the job.
She'll clean it and dry it as best she can (damn fur…) before spraying on the liquid bandage.
"You a betting man?" she asks out of the blue while putting the spray away. "We can take bets on how long it'll be before they show up."
Digging up the details on Hank's locator would show that he had been in the DZ hours ago, last pinging around a ruined diner. Surface evidence would show fresh rubble due to a gas leak explosion. The ruined building is now somewhat more thoroughly ruined.
*
With Veronica beginning to move, Posse taps a button to bridge the call to a second channel and adds on the Overwatch tactical frequency. "Last known is at a diner that's been cratered - rubble's fresh. Current location still WIP," she feeds in.
*
"I always strive to do just that, Neena." Hank murmurs. He barely even twitches as the crude cleaning is done, and then mmphs thanks when she spray bandages it. "Thank you."
He stretches, several joints popping as he does, and then chuffs laughter at the question. "Betting? Against a mutant who's super power is luck manipulation? I think not, but…if I had to hazard a guess I'd say a couple hours at the earliest depending on whom is available."
He will take one more hit from the bottle if she shares, and then digs out an energy bar, offering Domino half of it. "It is designed for my metabolic needs, that will likely be a little…rich." As in /disgustingly/ cloying and chock full of obnoxious amounts of calories.
Reconstructing the movements, it would be obvious that Hank was following a search pattern, Roni having the math to parse it out, Posse having years of experience to figure it out easily too.
Clearly he was out in the DZ /hunting/ something or someone.
*
"Activate the mining disaster load-out, Posse, please? I'll get the van." Veronica answers her friend who as always has tactical command. "Can we spare the REACT squad to come with me and get these set up and guard their exit?
Veronica rolls out of her lab, sealing it up, and rolls down the hallways heading not for the Overwatch underlevels, but for the parking garage and her van. She can laud Augmenta, the ramblers, their digging drone fleet, and the rest of their gear into that, and get them as close to on-site as possible. "Can you ask the Humblebees to get us an overhead terrain map of the best driving path to that location? If there isn't one, I'll suit up and fly the van over." Because she can do that.
*
"I guess that cat's out of the bag, huh" Neena softly laughs. "Fair enough."
Another drink exchanged for half of an energy bar. "The man makes his own processed food" she mutters in amusement. With one small bite taken this expression quickly changes. "Cripes McCoy, you grind up bricks for this recipe?"
It isn't complaining! It's another excuse to give someone some flak. When she's being a snarky brat it's safe to assume that she's okay.
"So. A few hours to burn without so much as a deck of cards. There's a few strong arguments -against- finishing up this bottle. Oh, I know! I can patch up my thermals. That'll pass some time. Ugh, could use some more light though, kinda hard to make out the fine detail—
Something falls from the ceiling and bounces off of the body of the dead hound, sending the object sliding across the floor right up to the front of her toes.
It's her shotgun. Complete with a flashlight.
"Right" she nonchalantly replies while picking up the dusty and battered Remington.
*
"REACT's already mobilizing, just waiting on signal fix," Posse radios back from the command center, seamlessly handling the switch from intercoms to phone.
"Mining load-out queued for the ramblers," another voice cuts in, over the radio as well as across the room from the one-eyed cyborg as the stations of the command center, all patched into the situation, work through their respective roles.
"Lock acquired, one klick bearing 34 degrees. Nav points loading in, beginning route guidance."
Tapping at her workstation, Posse cycles her monitor over to humblebee drone feed to pull up a closer view of the ruined diner that marks Hank's last location. "Whatever took this out went off fast… no discharges or bullet holes," she murmurs, then keys her radio again. "Tentative - nothing hostile at the site. No signs of combat but be careful."
*
"Unbagged totally, yes." Hank says with another chuffing laugh, it is actually kind of cute sounding.
"Bricks, lobster shells, pumice and pemican bars. How'd you guess?" Hank replies without missing a beat. "The hardest to grind…the Pemican bars."
He just watches the gun fall, the roll, and then laughs as the light on the end of the gun winks on during the process. "Of course, your power over luck is really not very obvious at all." Drily stated. "Of course…I could have increased the power output to the holosphere, but whatever works."
Eyes of yellow study the wrecked thermals, and he shakes his head I'll make more patch kits for you when we get out of here."
He's about to offer to help, when he notes how battered they are, and then flushes and looks away. "Mmm…yes, good idea to fix those." He rises. "I'll scout about." He offers as he does so.
*
"Roger, Posse. Thank you." Veronica answers, as she rolls out across the macadam and into the parking garage at frankly unsafe speeds, heading for her van which is already running. Hooray remote start!
"Hi, guys. Sorry I'm late." Roni murmurs, as the REACT team arrives with their gear in their own vehicle, as she waits for the van's chair lift to open up, pick her up, and put her inside the van. "Let's get this stuff loaded as fast as we can. We have no way of knowing how much air they have."
Before long they have loaded up the Augmenta armor, two large Rambler drones, a stacked collection of rolling trailers, a collection of much smaller drilling and acid-spraying macro-bots, two large tanks of high-molarity acid, several bricks of self-deploying self-expanding 'earthquake foam' and a few other collections. Even a couple tanks of pure O2.
"Make sure you tell Toni we're leaving. She's been so distracted with repairs and improvements to her lab, make sure she acknowledges what you tell her." Veronica offers. And then she turns on the nav system and syncs with the feed from the Humblebees and the comm center. "We're heading out!"
*
The ingredient list provided may not be accurate but it doesn't stop Domino from groaning "Oh my god, Hank."
The cut-down shotgun is easily propped up by a bench, filling half of the station with the dazzling beam of white surrounded by a generous flood. "You have your light and I have mine. I see nothing wrong with this."
With the supplies in hand she suggests "It's gonna take more than a few more kits after that scuffle. Might want to put me down for an annual order of fifty-something unless you can figure out some techie way to make 'em self-heal."
At his call to scout around she suggests "Don't wander too far. No telling how stable this place is. If you go down the odds of my being able to help aren't in our favor."
*
"Roger that, I'm familiar," Posse responds with a small chuckle. Very familiar, in fact.
Shifting her attention back to her monitor array, the cyborg watches REACT depart with Roni in tow then flips back to the humblebees and tries to take a closer inspection of the diner and surrounding area.
"Christ if this is what it's like controlling a UCAV, I'll never give those joystick jockies flak again," the green-eyed woman almost immediately grumbles. "Who /uses/ inverted controls?"
*
It's an awful bumpy ride to get to the location of the collapse; the Disaster Zone is not exactly smooth sailing, given its name. But Veronica is damned determined, and the van is a whole lot more capable than it looks on the outside. It may still be street legal … but she has never actually taken the thing back to the DMV for re-evaluation. "Passing waypoint baker, Posse. Any visible on-site changes?"
*
Hank McCoyo, the ingredients are not even close to accurate. "What? I left out the diamond dust and carbon fiber nanotubes!" Now /that/ would be all kinds of chewy!
"Fair enough." The still flustered Hank replies to her light comment. "A self-repairing suit would be a lot pricier, Neena. I could design one, however, see what I could come up with, right now the patch kits are probably the most cost effective and efficient solution. Also, no power requirements, self-repair would need something."
And then he mms. "I won't go far." He promises, and then sets off to try and get a feel for their locale. See if there's anything else useful to be found, he's /really/ hoping to find water that isn't toxic sludge. Alas, the search proves fruitless. "I found a possible way up, but it will require digging, I'd suggest we give RESCUE four hours, then see about trying to get out on our own."
*
"Price isn't too much of a concern but are you sure you couldn't power one off of my natural radiance?" Neena teases.
Hank is given his time and space to scout around. There's no shortage of gashes for Dom to glue back together! Though when he comes back she's kicked back and looking tired, having run out of energy before she could use up all of the patch kits. Instead she has a small collection of what might look like packs of cards (was she holding out before?) and a couple small spools of wire.
"I don't know about digging, but I've been giving our predicament some thought as well. Blowing up the ceiling may seem like suicide, but…" she trails off before raising a hand with a wry smirk. "All options on the table. Think they'd be able to detect a seismic event? Might be able to help them pinpoint our twenty."
*
"Nothing but settlin," Posse radios back as she maneuvers a drone closer to the entrance, focusing between a collapsed column and shattered roofing. "No life-signs on the surface layer, and the transmission ping is offset…" Switching off her radio, the cyborg turns out to the room. "Get me an underground map of broadcast and last known locations - tunnels, subways, basements."
*
"Good idea." Veronica opines, as she keeps driving. "Coming up on waypoint charlie. Guys, can you start checking the drillipedes, please? Make sure they're fully charged and ready to go. I know the ramblers are, but we haven't had to mobilize the drillipedes in over two months. I don't want to show up and then have them dead on arrival. If we need to switch power packs, I want us started on that while driving."
*
As luck would have it, one of the maps they uncover is an old survey map from the 1900s…it showed an old subway trolley, about the same depth as the geotags and signal read at. Better still, it shows enough detail that the RESCUE forces - REACT, Overwatch and Roni herself would be able to have a fair idea where it runs, roughly 30' down.
The diner is still burning a bit, and though there's no signs of combat left, there are remains found of some sort of 'dog' creature, though…no fur, it was covered with spiky hide, looks like something crushed it's skull…and punched four deep holes through it too.
Yeah. Definitely hunting someTHING, not someONE.
"Sadly, I can broadcast…but can't receive, so they can't answer us. We'll just have to be patient." Hank eyes the explosives. "Semtex?" He looks back over his shoulder, and then studies the roof. "Roof would collapse, not even you are that lucky. The exit I found would be better, but we'll give them more time…okay, Neena?"
*
The albino gives Hank a lopsided grin, not putting up any sign of a protest to the idea of -not- throwing high explosives at a questionably stable ceiling. "Can't hurt to have a last resort is all I'm saying."
In the meantime she flicks the gunlight off to conserve power then gingerly lies back on the old wooden bench, the boards creaking with the shifting weight. Resting and recovering seems like the best course of action for now.
*
"There's an old subway line under the diner that runs to their transmitting location. I've added it to your maps in blue," Karl radios. It's his day to pull a TOC rotation - isn't he lucky?
"Something dead in there - not human," Posse adds grimly as she cycles through the humblebee's spectrums and strafes the rubble to try to get a better look at the… /thing/ inside. "Some kinda wolf almost - real big. It seems Dr. McCoy was patrolling for it, Tamara might have tagged along. Keep a weapon close in case there's more underground."
*
"Roger, Posse. I see the map update, Karl. Thank you." Veronica answers. "Coming up on final waypoint, delta. Guys, sound off."
The members of the REACT squad do so quickly, and they give her the information she needs. "Drillipede one checks five-by-five. Full power, chelae and grinder mobility confirmed. Hydraulics check. Actuators check." Three more of the REACT squad include similar reports as they check in.
Once the team arrives on-site, Veronica confirms and then opens the ramp, unloading the Ramblers and there trailers, the rest of the gear and the smaller drones. Then she takes a minute while the team is arranging things to get suited up in Augmenta.
"OK. Ready to deploy." Veronica transmits.
And then it begins.
Four five-foot long, foot and a half wide metallic segmented centipedes with tracks every thirty degrees around themselves start boring their way down into the earth and stone. Behind them, one Rambler follows down into the hole, dragging along several open mining-cart like trailers and armed with several small articulating arms with vaccuum hoses and pincers, gathering up what the drillipedes generate while boring down in. A second Rambler follows with its tubes actually processing that stone dust and earth with onboard chemicals and spraying out 'earthquake foam' to stabilize the tunnel behind them. Several small Humblebee-like drones equipped with spray nozzles reload from a tanker in the array and then spray acid ahead to weaken stone. The whole array follows its programming and adapts cooperatively as a single unit, boring down towards their target goal.
This is why RESCUE are so highly valued by so many: they really do build technology that overcomes some of the most outrageous challenges the world has ever seen.
*
Closer investigation would find charred remains of a second dog-thing, roughly two hundred pounds of brute, this one's body more intact, and covered with spiky-hide, looks like something broke its back. There's also signs of a /third/ animal, one paw print in particular spanning almost eighteen inches wide…no body for that one though, thing had to be the size of a compact car!
Which augurs ill…though…the broadcast continues, even though it is clearly on a loop. Wouldn't it be fun to dig down to find the giant hound thing feeding on the remains of their friends?
One very good thing about the drillipedes? They're not /quiet/. Hank's senses are keen, the sound of the grinding of stone and concrete, even metal, yeah…he can hear it, and perks up quite a bit. Eyes of yellow track to the wall. "Neena, they're on their way. Rest, it will be a bit, but they made amazing time."
*
"Damn, already?" Neena's ragged voice calls back with a slight chuckle. "I might have won that bet. Hey..so long as it's still just the two of us down here I want you to level with me, Hank."
Shiny filtered eyes stare upward at the dark ceiling, making out the faint lines of tile seams in monochromed hues.
"If it was just me down here and I had the same way of sending them an S.O.S. Do you think they'd still make such good time digging my sorry ass out of here? Would they have come at all?"
*
"Two dead wolf-things, trail of a possible third…" Posse radios in real-time as she scans the drone video feeds, stopping to zoom in on something that at first looks like a small shell crater. "Load for Jurassic Park - if that's a pawprint there's nothing out of Africa that large. Remember neuro-darts need to penetrate to be effective, if sighted go screamer before engaging and aim for thin targets."
*
"Roger, Posse. Changing loadout and increasing launch speed and pressure on the darts." Veronica offers, as she watches the sensor feeds from the drillipedes and their friends.
The team of drones make incredible time burrowing down through, but even so this is not going to be instantaneous. The great thing is that as they dig down they are creating a solidly stabilized passage big enough for human passage up to the surface; they aren't just digging down, but creating the escape tunnel for those below. And they come with o2 cannisters and masks.
*
"Neena…yes, absolutely they would." Hank states without hesitation. "You may be on probation, but these people absolutely do not leave one of their own, no matter how irritated they might be with them, out to dry. They will /literally/ move earth and shake the pillars of heaven to get it done too." Hank hunkers down next to the Hellbino, and nods firmly. "So yeah, that's my honest and expert opinion. They shive a git. They care. They believe in loyalty to each other, and gosh darnit they are courageous as all get out in their earnest desire to help others." He smiles. "Even you." And yes, he's both serious and at the end there he might just be teasing a bit.
Could Hank be warming a /smidge/? Possibly.
*
As Hank takes a seat Neena can feel the boards warping upward beneath her with a much more pronounced protest chorus. The bench holds… For now.
"Shiving gits. Always a fun past time," the wounded albino smirks.
At the 'even you' she rolls her eyes but it's clear that she's not bothered by it.
"Yeah, so..not to get all deep or sappy or anything but my power is kind of a screwy thing. All that's happened up to this point could be leading into something much bigger. Not saying what I did was -right- but it's done and this is the path we're on because of it. Damn all of you but I might actually be learning how to play nicely with others. ..Maybe," she adds while wrinkling her face some.
*
"Drill-" Posse *almost* hesitates, "-ipedes are holding steady. No new sights. Humblebee perimeter is clear of vitals," she radios terse and matter-of-factly.
*
"Roger, Posse." Augmenta acknowledges as she continues her own monitoring of the drillipedes' progress boring down towards their friends below. This is why she and Toni invented and built the crazy things, after all. "Stay alert, guys. I'm not picking up any signs of that third one, but anything can happen. Remember, we may have critical medical needs once they get through."
*
Truly, it isn't all that long before the Drillipedes manage to break through into the old (sub sub) Subway station below the diner, and yeah, there's the big dog…impaled on the wreckage of a trolley car, and inside it are Hank and Neena, both clearly weary. Honestly, Hank looks a /fright/ - blood matting his fur. Neena is visibly bandaged, her thermal suit showing signs of having been patched. Hank blinks at the digging drones, his hackles raising in instinctive fight response at the mechanical digger's insectoid appearance, but then he relaxes.
He rises then, and looks to Domino as he offers her a hand up, and an arm to lean on.
Softly. "I hope you're right, these are people worth your time, one and all." He states sotto voce to Domino.
*
The roof opens up as four giant metallic centipedes - drillipedes - come boring through the ceiling in full-on nightmare-fueling glory. With nothing to continue against they step with their heads emerging into the open tunnel space. Then they push down one at a time, falling with loud clanky thunks to the ground below. This clears the passage they have bored through and managed to secure, leaving it wide open to the sky above.
And then down comes a pair of climbing lines.
"Lookout below!" comes a shout, followed by a repelling Augmenta. Got to love the lighting rig on the suit. "Did someone call for extraction and a doctor?" the suit inquires.
*
Old habits die hard. When the drillipedes get close enough that Neena can sense she nonchalantly thumbs a couple of shells into her shotgun and trips the bolt release with a *Chak!* right in time to be greeted by—
"What the -hell- am I looking at, McCoy?" the surprised albino inquires from behind the sights. "Those are -ours?- Gonna give me a damn heart attack!"
A weary swear is voiced as the weight of the gun drops right back across her lap. "Sorry, sorry…" is grumbled in apology for once again being all jumpy, catching the other mutant's broad hand to stagger back to her feet.
"It's still gonna take some time to adjust" she softly offers back to Hank right before Augmenta comes in for her dramatic entrance.
It's true. The two survivors down here look..and smell..like high hell. Roadkill turned into something a cat might have dragged in then forgot about for a couple more days. Or more accurately, two survivors of a vicious string of animal attacks. There is blood -everywhere- though most of it had dried some time ago.
Neena gives Augmenta a lopsided smile and holds up the bottle of whiskey. "Join us for a drink?"
*
"Those are clearly mechanical, and yes, based on the structure of the 'musculature', the design is consistent with RESCUE tech. So…I stood down before smashing, or shooting multi-million dollar drones." Hank's louder reply to Domino. He grips her arm a moment, carefully avoiding any inured spots, and then nods to Roni. "Exfil and medical were indeed on the order, unfortunately we cannot validate your parking." Hank looks to Augmenta. "I had read some reported sightings of a 'dog monster', there were attacks, and then a family was destroyed leaving a six-year old girl an orphan, so I came out hunting them. I am not sure why Neena is here, but…we defeated them, at some small cost of blood to ourselves. I'll probably need my collarbone broken and reset, Neena is the one in worse shape."
Sitrep in a babble, not quite a message in a bottle, but it it will do.
*
"OK. If no one is in critical condition, we will exfil first. Neena, no offense, you're smaller. C'mere." Augmenta responds. She recorded every word they just said, to each other around the drones, and then to her. Information for later.
Then Augmenta steps to the side and preps a harness, which she will then connect around Neena, so she does not have to do anything but hold on. A quick tug, and then Augmenta launches herself up into the air holding Domino, tucking her into the hold before the rope starts drawing her upwards.
"Posse, Neena is OK, but in need of medical attention. I am going to recommend since the third dog is dead down here that the team mount Neena in their vehicle and head back to the Wellspring for treatment. I will get our larger, heavier friend up and then transport him myself."
*
"Oh relax, I didn't hurt any of the friendly nightmarish multi-million dollar burrow bugs" Domino counters.
Of course, all of this time had passed and -she- had no idea why Hank was here! Though when it comes to the matter of HER involvement she rolls her eyes and looks off to the side, summing it up in one very straightforward word:
"Contract."
At least it was for a better reason this time?
The on-again-off-again merc tries to stow the shotgun back behind her shoulder but can't make the motion anymore, hissing slightly as the motion pulls on her wounds. Without another word offered she holds it out to Hank. It's far from a complete disarming, she still has like four pistols and a bunch of blades plus a freaking machete. Someone had definitely been running another gig on the side.
To Augmenta she smirks lightly. "Why would I complain about being the first one out of this pit?" The bottle of Jim is left behind, perhaps for the next time she falls into this tomb, and moves toward the dressed up form of Roni for extraction.
She's just about to confirm a "Clear for take-off" when Augmenta launches upward and Dom's last word comes out sounding more like an "Urk!"
*
The shotgun is taken, the shell unchambered, and then slid wild west style into his combat harness. The shell tucked into one of a myriad of puches. Eyes of yellow track to Roni. "Nobody is in critical condition, Augmenta." Hank confirms. He'll help Neena to walk to Doc Kelsey's armoured form, and then nods. "Go ahe—" Zoom! Up they go, despite being basically okay, Hank waits, Roni will be upset if he tries to climb out on his own.
Eyes of yellow study the room, his holosphere of light giving just enough illumination that he can see it all. Troubled, he looks to where they woke on the floor, and to the slain Matron Hound. "Sorry." He murmurs to the corpse. "Rest easy, now."
*