shatterverse | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

There's a flash and a bang and suddenly there is a well-muscled man in a rather ridiculous looking costume standing in the woods. But that might go overlooked since he's also wearing a frilly white apron (someone took his more manly one) and holding a skillet in which a pair of eggs still sizzle half-fried.

"Huh," he says casually as his head swivels around searching for threats. Definitely not Kansas.

Not that he was in Kansas before...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lawton follows, close behind Blake, still indifferent to everything.

Which doesn't mean he's not thinking, and what he's thinking is: weirdest ambush ever, unless whoever's behind itwanted to get him and Blake out of the way to get at the others.

In which case, they're also morons.

"This is pretty weird," Blake says after they've gone maybe a while. "Even for us, I mean."

Pity the suckers who attacked Scandal, much less Scandal with the rest of the crazies at her side.

Just as he says that, there's a twang above their heads to the left, and an arrow shoots straight into the path, right at their feet.

Lawton steps past it.

"Think this is some fancy pants way of hirin' us?"

Considering some of the ways people have hired them in the past... it's certainly possible.

"That or someone's just a really bad shot." Because... really... Starting your ambush with a miss? "If we wait I bet we'll find out--" he's cut off by two more arrows missing them.

Lawton shoots a young woman dead out of the trees behind them. Without looking around or even stopping his progress. Three arrows were all he needed to identify the location of the archer.

"Maybe this is just the welcoming committee," he says, over the resultant shouts.

"Maybe they don't know who we are," Blake suggests. "Because they're running the wrong way." That is: directly toward them.

The five raggedly dressed people with makeshift weapons do not inspire much in the way of fear. Not considering the sorts of people the Six spend time around.

Lawton shakes his head. He's not sure how long it'll be before they get to civilisation, and he's not exactly short of bullets.

But this seems such a waste.

"All yours."

Isn't he generous?

Blake sighs, looks put upon, and wades into the onrushing "horde" with his frying pan. The massive cast-iron cooking utensil makes for a rather effective makeshift weapon, it turns out. Bones break, blood flies (none of it his), and only one guy slips past to get anywhere near Lawton.

Not that the guy in question is paying attention to that. He's too busy staring at the man in the apron who's killing people with a skillet.

Which means he hardly even noticed the bullet in the base of his brainstem that leaves his dead before he hits the floor.

"So no one who's heard of us did this."

"Definitely not. Unless this is one of those insane 'lull them into a false sense of security' things, in which case I've seen it done better."

He hefts his skillet. "I gotta say, I love cast iron."

Lawton has nothing to say to that, so he doesn't.

"Would expect something more interesting by now, though."

"Yeah..." Thomas looks up at the sky, eyes scanning for... anything.

"I'd say it's too quiet, but I'm trying to cut back on my cliches."

"Good idea," Lawton agrees. "It'd be a pity if you got more cliched."

"Says the hard-boiled heartless assassin." At least Lawton doesn't have a Heart'o'Gold.

Damn straight he doesn't. Next you'll be accusing him of having family issues.

...oh wait, right.

"Hey man, I'm a dying breed."

Thomas looks around. "Given our current situation, that's entirely possible." Floyd may have his guns, but Blake is stuck with a freakin' cast-iron skillet in the middle of nowhere.

Lawton raises an eyebrow in Blake's direction.

"not the first time I heard that."

"Not the first time I've said it."

"So... I guess we should stop standing around. Let's search these people and see if we can figure out what's going on."

"Do I gotta?"

Blake just sighs theatrically and rolls his eyes as he walks over toward the nearest body and begins a practiced rifle through pockets.

And, just think, Lawton would be his first choice for someone from the team to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with.

Lawton is never going to admit to having a preference for teammates in that way. But Blake would definitely be above self righteous junkie and bendy sex-crazed freakshow, so that's a plus.

He strolls over to the next most convenient corpse and checks it quickly and efficiently, rifling the pockets.

"Ever heard of SHIELD?"

"Nope. Sounds like one of those moronic government outfits. You know, bad acronym, dumb uniforms, secret base on a deserted island..."

"Not one I ever heard of."

Not that Floyd was given all that info in his government days.

He's interested, though, to discover one of the unarmed assailants was packing rounds of ammo for a firearm. Rounds he takes without a thought.

"Tell me you got a plan."

"I've got a plan."

Thomas does not elaborate because he does not, in fact, have anything even resembling a plan.

"Good."

As long as the plan-having burden is on someone else's very manly shoulders.

"Is it a plan that has us back at the House by... what time is it?"