Twila@M3 - Wednesday, December 29, 1999, 9:30 PM ------------------------------------------------
Barracks <Hunter HQ> The hallway to the barracks of Light Labs is wide, the corridor lit by warm glowing overheads as it stretches towards the windowed far wall. Doors line the hallway, each the home of one of the Maverick Hunters. Small nametags line each door, showing which rooms are occupied, and which are not. The floor is covered with actual carpeting, giving this place a homey feel and somewhat cancelling the laboratory feel that dominates the labs. The hall is mostly empty however, being merely a transitory point between the Hunters' rooms and the rest of the world.
Twila Peterson makes her way into the barracks area, hobbling along on her cane. However, she does seem to be walking a bit better than she had been just a couple of days ago.
Rick Morgan steps out of his quarters, shrugging his jacket into place on his shoulders, and pulling his gloves on as well. Albeit, his new gloves that he acquired thanks to a certain someone. As Twila comes into view, he glances up and gives her a small smile, followed by a wave. "Heya Twi. How's it goin?"
Twila Peterson offers Rick a wave and a smile of her own, not making an issue to glance towards his new gloves...but grateful he's found a use for them all the same. "Hi, yourself. Hmmm...goes alright. Somewhat bored maybe. But guess medical leave will slightly do that." There's a frown cast towards the cane somewhat. She wishes it wasn't needed. But no sense griping about it. She'll use it as long as she must. "Just visited Kalinka down at medbay. At least she's feeling a little better. Still not sure what caused her sudden illness." She then tilts her head towards the mechanic's direction. "And just where are you headed?"
Rick Morgan gives a small smirk, zipping the bottom of his jacket up just a bit. "Actually was just about to head out to San Angeles. Got some stuff to pick up in the wharf district for parts for the armors. Got a flatbed I'm gonna drive out there actually. You wanna come along?"
Twila Peterson muses that but all for a few seconds. "Sure. You headed out there now...or I have time to snag a jacket?" she questions, liking the idea of leaving the base if only for a little while. It does have a tendency to get just a tad too stuffy.
Rick Morgan grins. "Sure, I'll meet you outside, no sweat. I got the truck parked around front, you really can't miss it. With a big tarp over the back and all..." he smirks and shows the keys. "See ya there?"
Twila Peterson noddles in turn and starts finishing the trek towards her home and hearth. "Only if you don't be happening to time me," she chuckles after tossing him a mock salute. "Be there in a few."
<Soon...>
Donachi Business District - Neo-Tokyo This is the economic heart of Neo-Tokyo and a great deal of the world. It is within these few square kilometers that corporate empires rise and fall, deals determining the fate of the world's commercial enterprises are made, and where the greatest commercial structure ever created dwarfs everything around it, the Stratoscraper. This immense building is so tall that aerospace technology had to be applied to maintain the building's atmosphere near the top, while the foundation below bores deep into the planet's crust. Around the base of this building are the smaller, though by no means small themselves, skyscrapers that house the headquarters of countless corporations and globe-spanning enterprises. The city has reached so far into the sky here that special public transports race up and down between suspended platforms that connect many of the buildings. Floating food vendor booths drift to and from specialized airlocks on the side of the buildings, and the lights from various holographic ad signs reflect from the mirrored windows.
Rick Morgan stands already near the back of the truck, tugging on one of the ropes that secures the tarp in back, perhaps to make darn sure it's set in place. Appearing satisfied, he gives a curt nod, then turns and circles around to the front, lifting the grill that protects the engine and glances quickly inside, giving it a once over as well, then slamming it back into place, also satisfied.
Twila Peterson makes her way out of the confines of the Labs and out into the Neo-Tokyo night...keeping an eye out for flatbed truck just as Rick described to her...like she could readily miss something such as that. She spots it, and the driver for this truck, easily enough and proceeds to approach. "Everything ready?" she asks, observing his last minute checks.
Rick Morgan turns around at Twila's approach, and gives a quick thumbs-up. "Yep," he says with a big grin, moving around to the passenger side, to reach up and open the door. The truck even has a somewhat stair design to get into the high cab, so even those with disabilities....or injuries to one's legs can get in without having to struggle too much. "All set and ready to go."
Twila Peterson silently blinks at the small stair but seems rather grateful for it as she proceeds to careful climb on it. "Thanks," she offers as she gets herself settled inside...making sure she and the cane are away from the door. "What exactly were you needing to get from San An again?"
Rick Morgan makes sure that Twila's clear of the door before he pushes it shut, circling around to the other side of the vehicle, then hauling himself up and into it, slamming his own door shut and starting up the engine with a dull thrum. Unlike the standard hovervehicles that are often seen, this hauler is of the old-wheeled design. "Buncha components and stuff we're gonna need for the armors. We were getting low so I placed a bunch of new orders. Myomer cables, skeletal support rods, stuff like that. We got contract work to guys who make standard versions for us, we just modify em as we need." He gives a small smirk as he presses down on the accelerator, steering the truck away from Light Labs and beginning on it's journey. "Military hardware used to be hard for a private organization like us to get. Luckily we got our connections."
Twila Peterson nods in response as she makes certain she's belted in. She's a little surprised the vehicle is wheeled instead of making use of hovering mechanisms...although she really shouldn't be. She recalls being within something akin to this several years ago actually. "Suppose it would at that," she muses to herself more than to Rick. "Always pays to be prepared at any rate. Hmmm...lemmee guess...for right now I'll be...supervising?" she asks in reference to what she'll be doing in San An. If there's anything more she's sure Rick would tell her...although she half suspects he may have simply wanted the company as well as to get Twila out of the confines of the walls.
Rick Morgan smirks. "Even if there was heavy lifting to do I wouldn't be asking it of you." He guides the truck through the streets, heading towards the direction of the teleporters, and those designed for large traffic vehicles. "Specially not with your leg. No big deal though, we just drive on up to the ship in the harbor, and they lower the crates with a crane into place. Easy as pie. Figured you were being driven nuts by getting all cooped up in there and stuff....."
Twila withholds a lopsided grin. "This is scary. You're beginning to know me too well..." She pauses before questioning, "So...just stop 'n' plop, huh?" Rick Morgan hmmms, giving a quick nod as the lights of the night time city filter into the truck's cab. "Yeah, pretty straightforward and all."
Not too long later, Rick guides the rig through the less lit up area of San Angeles, moving down quiet streets. He tilts his head, glancing at the lit up wharfs in the distance, then notes one of the streets. "This is a shortcut..." he says, turning the wheel to steer the rig, the hiss of hydraulics issuing forward in the process.
Twila Peterson quips, "One of us know where we're going...good enough for me..." as he guides the truck through the metropolis. "Exactly where in San An are we headed...which section I mean? Pretty big city. North or south?"
"Northern section of the docks," Rick says, pausing to flick the signal lights off as he straightens the rig out again. His foot eases down onto the clutch, and his right hand shifts into a higher gear with a metallic thud and the grind of the engine. "That's where most of the sea traffic from Canada comes at any rate. That's where our current supplier is right now. Actually we've got a whole section of the docks themselves reserved just for em....so it's pretty ha....." he trails off as his eyes narrow, staring ahead at what the headlights are illuminating on the empty street. About 100 feet ahead, a large caution sign is set into place, with STOP written on it, and the universal picture suggesting that there's construction going on. Rather odd that there would be construction just -here-, what with this entire section of town being somewhat.....run down. In fact there's no sign of anybody about, though it isn't surprising at this time of night.
"Hmmmm...." Rick mutters, easing on the brake and slowing the truck down with a loud hiss of air brakes.
Twila Peterson settles back within her seat. To be honest, it doesn't particularly matter just where in San Angeles they are. She was just curious if this happened to be anywhere she was a little familiar. But judging by the surroundings she sees...prolly not. That easing of the brake jars her from her musings as she catches sight of the curious sign in front of them. Just as Rick probably had already done she takes another glance around them with a confused blink. "Odd. Pretty big section for them to reconstruct..." she ponders, suspicions already starting as there appears to be no signs of actual construction work or the remains of construction work anywhere about them.
San Angeles - Wharf District Sniff, Sniff... Smell that? No, not that, we'll get to that in a minute. The over-powering smell is seawater. The wooden piers at one end of the area merge almost seamlessly into the modern plasteel ones at the other end. The next prominent smell is impatience. People unused to the time frames used to aquatic transport are constantly bothering the Dockmaster with requests. Failing that, they bother dock workers. Many have never been heard from again. Large grizzled reploids and humans operate even larger equipment to get cargo from the waiting ships to the many wearhouses. A few shady types can be seen in the darker corners, and lounging about the few pubs in the areas. If you don't have business here and perhaps an armed guard, this place might make you just a bit nervous.
Rick Morgan hmmmms, and sets the truck into neutral as he pulls his door open. "I'll check it out, see if it's just some little job goin on or what. Backing this rig up on this street would be murder. Wait here..." With that said, he slips from the seat to the ground below and out of sight, though the hard *CLANK* of his legs can be heard quite audibly. A few seconds later, his jacket flashes into view as he steps in front of the truck's headlights, approaching the barricade and glancing down at it curiously, then tilting his gaze beyond, down the street somewhat. Now as one sits here and has time to look around, they can see that this is one of the more run down areas indeed, in fact...the buildings around the area all look to have been abandoned long ago.
Twila Peterson merely blinks as her gaze pans around once more while still within the truck. "Like I said...pretty big section for them to reconstruct..." she states as she looks back down towards her friend issuing his own investigation just outside. The headlights illuminate Rick's back, blocking some of the sign and whatnot from view for several moments. "Find anything?" she asks, starting to have some sort of feeling about this whole situation. She's not sure of what feeling. But it's not a good one. Of that she knows.
Rick Morgan frowns to himself, glancing back in Twila's direction for a second, having to listen hard to hear her over the sound of the engine idling. His only answer is a shrug, as he glances back at the sign, stepping around it and turning his view to the street beyond. Considering his options, he finally shrugs again. "I can't see anything....I'll just go real slow..." With that, he reaches down and takes a hold of the sign with both hands, intending to move it out of the way.
Somewhere, seemingly far off, but sounding odd in its resonance, something akin to a deep rumbling begins to fill the air. Rick doesn't even notice it until it rises above the pitch of the truck's engine, causing him to stop in his action and lift his head just enough to cock his ear to one side. The rumbling grows louder very quickly, starting to build in pitch at the same time.....and it takes the technician a few moments to realize what it is.
.oO(Motorcycle...combustion engine...)Oo.
What happens next is almost a blur in its speed, as the building to the very right of the truck simply seems to have it's entire front explode outwards, the boarded up windows and doors having been there merely for show. What follows is several figures riding on large motorcycles, near deafening in their simultaneous thrumming that fills the street, and the squeal of their rubber tires tearing across the pavement. The lead biker homes directly in on the technician, wielding a large rope that he throws forward, tied in a lasso. Rick himself has the presence of mind to duck to the side, rolling just away from it in the nick of time, though when he stands, another biker takes his open palm and smacks it square into the technician's back. The impact is nothing less than breathtaking, or robbing in this case, and with a loud grunt, Rick stumbles forward, sprawling flat on his face as the motorcycles begin to circle back, to begin orbiting around their prey.
The young woman's eyes widen considerably. Of course, being within the position and place where she is she can perhaps see the danger a little before Rick does himself...but not by much. "Riiiiick!" The only thing she is able to do at first is yell out a warning to the vulnerable technician just moments before one of the bikers attempts to assault him. However, her cry is more than likely lost within not only the idle engine but the combination of other engines as well. As the sharks encircle their intended prey she makes certain the doors are locked before scooting herself carefully over towards the driver's side...trying to find something, anything, which may be of some help. But what exactly could there be? As she looks she does the only thing she can think of what to do...no matter how foolhardy it may appear after the fact. She presses down firmly on the truck's horn, allowing it to blare long and loud. *BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOORM!!!!*
The reaction is instantaneous as the horn's ear splitting sound rips forward, the bikers slowing in their closure on Rick's frame to cast their glares towards it. The leader raises his finger and points towards the vehicle, shouting something that's lost except to those right next to him. In response, one of the bikers on his right grabs something akin to a large crossbow, lifting it to his shoulder and aiming it towards the cab. Then his arm lifts just a little higher, the crossbow snapping off with a visual twang and sending it's projectile forward....which consists of a tiny explosive head.
*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO* *BOOOM!*
With a rather loud flash, though thankfully only contained damage, the horn array on the top of the truck's cab bursts apart from the shot, reduced to nothing more than metal fragments. The bikers give a collective cheer, followed by rounds of raucous laugher. One of the larger members of the group, an 8 foot reploid built much like a bull, giving him very much the appearance of a minotaur from fantasy stories and novels, plods up to the truck, sinking his fingers easily into the door to rip it free.
Rick struggles from where he fell, gasping for air, moving to get a foot underneath him as he clutches his chest, shutting his eyes tightly. Slowly, he starts to get up....
Meanwhile, the reploid biker sneers in at the occupant of the cabin, then reaches in grabbing roughly for her arm with a large hand......
.oO(Nice one, kid...)Oo. Twila mentally chides herself with a nearly audible "Oops!" as she spots the massive crossbow-like weapon and aims it just above the cab's front. She shields her face the best she can and ducks just as the bow is fired...surprised she doesn't here the sound of glass shattering around her. The sudden silence of the horn lets it be known what the exact target had been. Confused, the young woman lifts herself up...just in time to see the hulking biker tramp his way over to the driver's side of the door. "Uh, oh..." she breaths as she tries scooting herself back to the passenger side...reaching for her cane in the process. It's a futile gesture at best and she knows it. But it's not as if she has too many options either. She winces with come of the movement and then settles...a hand reaching for her com-link...
The reploid hulk isn't going to be dissuaded so easily, especially by the cane. Though his eyes narrow as he sees Twila's hand go for something else, something he assumes is linked to the local authorities or somesuch. "Not a smart move sister....." he grunts, voice a very deep basso as he seizes his hands around her upper arm and lifts her out of the cab bodily in the process.
Rick himself shakes his head meanwhile, crawling to his feet and reaching inside his own jacket, drawing his revolver just in time to have one of the bikers crack a switch across his wrist. With a loud exclamation, the technician releases the sidearm, though not before reacting and spinning around to put his foot physically into the punk's gut. With a dull thud, the thug falls clean off of his bike, sending it crashing into the sidewalk nearby in a shower of sparks and a shriek of metal. An another motion cause Rick to spin around as if to confront the others, but the leader holds up a restraining hand to them, eyeing Rick carefully. "Hey.....this guy's familiar...."
Meanwhile, the bull-reploid clamps his arm firmly around Twila's torso as he physically keeps her close, and where she can't squirm very much, eyes searching for that communicator she was reaching for.
Twila Peterson emits a yelp as she handled...one of fear certainly. However, it's also one of pain as well. The sudden grab by the reploid sends an eruption of a sudden protest from her previous injury. It's a fairly good guess if the reploid's order for her not to proceed for the radio was not enough to persuade her, the wash of pain was. As she's forced out within the hulk's arms her voice falls silent. If that horn didn't gain attention before its untimely demise than certainly a scream wouldn't fair much better. Something else causes her to stop. As the leader point's out the technician to the others she tosses Rick a quiet glance while trying to steady her breathing. The pain emanating from her hip begins to subside a little, at least enough for her to glance back and forth between Rick and the others surrounding them.
The leader is obviously a human, his head shaved bald save for a single black length of hair from the back of his head, tied into a long ponytail that hangs down to his lower back. He's dressed in his own dark leather jacket and pants, with a set of fingerless gloves much like Rick's, only his are rather torn from use, and have wicked looking metal studs sewn into the knuckles. A pair of visor-shades rest over his eyes, as he glances straight at the technician. "Well well well....." he mutters, sliding to the side, and finally off of his bike, stepping forward and coming face to face with the other. "If'n it ain't Slider, the blonde streak that could handle a bike better than any other gang-punker around huh?" His face twists into a slight sneer as he eyes the other calmly for a moment.
Rick glares back at the other, regaining his composure from earlier and straightening up fully. "I was done with that long ago, Mason..." he growls, appearing about as tense as one could see him get right about now. "I ain't into that stuff no more."
Mason chuckles, placing his hands on his hips and cocking his head to one side. "Yeah so I heard. Went and cleaned up your act and everythin huh? University and all that jazz. A real role model...." The tone is obviously mocking as he says it, before his gaze centers downwards. "Like the new additions....musta cost ya a pretty fortune...." He reaches out as if to rap one of Rick's metallic knees with a finger, but is immediately stopped by the technician's hand seizing around his wrist.
Rick's glare could be considered nothing less than deadly. "Don't...."
Staring back for a long moment, Mason almost looks as if he's about to strike the other, but he slowly breaks into a long grin. "Sure thing...what're old buddies for huh?" With that, he straightens up again, and gestures to the large bull reploid to bring Twila closer, his eyes moving up and down her for a moment. "Pretty little thing. She your new girlfriend?"
Rick's only answer is a low growl. "Don't even THINK of hurting her...." his glance then snaps back to Twila herself, somewhat of the familiar sense of him coming visible. "Twila...you ok?"
Twila presses her lips together tightly, holding in a wince or three as she's moved. Her injury isn't all that visibly apparent to except by the way she's holding herself to try and stave off as much as the protest as possible. She tosses this "Mason" character a glance of her features as his eyes rove across her five foot frame before turning her attention towards Rick. "I--yeah. I--I think so," she states, although some traces of uncertainty can be possibly detected within her voice. It's not hard for her to put two and two together as her mind goes back to a talk she and her mentor had the other night regarding some of his past. Not very hard for her to take a wild guess that these had been the friends within his young days. Nice bunch.
"Don't worry, I'll get you outta this...." Rick grunts, his glare centering back on the one in front of him.
Mason breaks into a toothy smile, spreading his arms to the side. "Awwww..now ain't that cute?" he says. "Ol Slider's gone and become one `o them hero-types. Lookee, he even wears it on his bandanna now instead of the Hammerhead's logo. Guess you really gone up in the world huh?" He smirks somewhat and crosses his arms. "Ya know....it's been a long time since we had us a Rash.....maybe it's time to live up to old traditions." A few snickers issue forth from the other bikers, mingled with an occasional hoot of agreement.
Rick narrows his eyes, imperceptibly shifting one of his feet. "I haven't touched a bike in years....." Rick growls. "What makes you think I'm any good anymore? Or that I'm even gonna do it in the first place....?"
"Do I even have to ask you that?" Mason returns, gesturing to the young woman still held in the large bull-reploid's strong grip.
Fingers tighten somewhat into fists, and the technician's glare centers back on the biker. "Darnnit, Mason...it was never about this....we caused trouble and stuff but we never tried to hurt anybody!"
His only response is a round of laughter from the bikers, their leader included. "Times are tough Rick..." he says finally upon finishing. "Makes a guy tough too.....besides, this is all in good fun. Tell you what, you gimme a good Rash.....and you and your girlfriend can go back to whatever it is that you guys who save the world do..."
Twila Peterson tightly shuts her eyes only to open them again. Oh, terrific...Manson's one of *those" types. She attempts to struggle at least a little, but a sudden reminder from her hip and possibly from the one holding her, quiet any further thoughts on the matter. "Good thing for you saving the world includes you and your friends here," Twila pipes up.
The bull reploid growls, lifting his free hand to cup Twila's chin firmly, "She's got a good lip on `er boss...." he grunts.
Mason chuckles. "Yeah, Slider always went for loud gals didn't he?" He then smiles at Twila. "Don't worry sweetheart, us big boys can take care of ourselves when the goin gets rough. Your concern's appreciated though..."
Rick's glare only darkens that much more, as he makes an impatient gesture. "Let's get this over with already!"
Mason laughs, and gestures towards the other bikers. "Right on my man. Hey, Cheesie, bring your hog up here and lend it to Slider wouldya?" With that, he climbs onto his own bike, gunning the throttle and tearing away on the pavement, moving several hundred feet down the street before screeching to a halt and pulling his bike around in a full spin to face back the way he came.
A biker sporting a large mohawk and an equally large nose-ring brings over his own speedbike, hopping off of it and handing the handlebars over to Rick, who stares down at the machine uncertain for a second, then slowly back up at Twila again. A few seconds pass, and he seems to come to a decision, his jaw setting into a grim line as he swings a leg over the bike's seat, easing into place, his hand moving to a familiar spot down by his right side. His hands then raise upwards, with something that consists of nothing more than a handle, with a long chain attached to it......
Twila Peterson furrows her brows as she's touched and the hand remains there against her soft skin, biting back whatever it was she was thinking of retorting. She may not like it, but there's precious little she can really do in retaliation. The young woman darts her gaze back towards her mentor, offering a silent prayer for his protection, and that he knows what he's doing. Not that he has much of a choice right now mind you.
The sound of revving engines is what fills the street right now, namely the two souped up engines that both riders sit on, facing one another. Mason copies Rick's own gesture, as he pulls out a handle with it's own chain attached, giving it an experimental swing overhead.
Rick grips the throttle control firmly, his thumb working with an expert hand as sheer exhaust belches out of the old-style engine, the muffler banging as it crackles with the power behind it. One of his metallic feet lift upwards, setting on the footrest, as the other remains on the ground, waiting.....for that very moment....
Mason's mouth curls into a dark sneer, as he glares down the street at his opponent...then his fingers squeeze the throttle...
With a shriek of tires on pavement, both bikes suddenly roar to life, their engines belching out their pure horsepower into momentum, as they squeal for purchase, leaving long, snaking black trails on the road surface behind them. The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline fills the air, as the two riders begin to pick up rapid speed, the several hundred feet between the two of them rapidly starting to disappear......
Whatever cheers and hoots are brought about by Rick's former manner of company are drowned by the ancient soundings of those aforementioned engines. Twila, of course, doesn't join in for obvious reasons. Aside from her being used as pressure for Rick to join in on this obscene game of theirs she's really nothing more than a bystander. She offers nothing by way of words. However, her features betray a catalog of concern. She's not even thinking of what might happen to her should Rick loose...
Indeed the hoots and hollers grow even louder as the two jousters grow closer, even the reploid that's holding Twila fast in his grip relinquishing his hold on her chin to pump his arm in a wild motion. "Yeah! Get `im boss! Take it to im!"
The two bikes continue to roar straight for one another, their pitches growing almost to a shriek as their RPM's seem almost painful for the machines to handle. Mason is the first to begin swinging the chain over his head, quickly followed by Rick spinning his in a sideways motion, eyes narrowed in concentration. It's almost as if time slows down when the two close to those critical dozen feet, and as if by simultaneous motion, both riders swing their 'weapons' forward in twisting arcs..
Rick's chain swipes forward, heading directly for Mason's chest, only to suddenly be whipped upwards as it collides with the windshield of the motorcycle at the last second. There isn't even time for that sense of dismay to set in, as Mason's own chain moves low, striking the wheelguard of Rick's bike, and sending up a horrible shower of sparks. The two pass one another, and it's immediately evident who's losing his edge, as Rick struggles with the vehicle under his command, then suddenly loses it, twisting hard to the side and skidding over, the bike's side hitting the ground in a deafening scream of tortured metal and sparks.
More than likely any sound Twila emits amongst the crowd she's forced to find herself among goes ignored if indeed it is heard at all -- or even sounded at all. Her eyes widen wider than they had been before just as her mouth momentarily drops open in disbelief. She breaths in a sudden gasp of air as Morgon's bike falls the hard, unyielding ground. "Rick?" is all she can utter within a terrified whisper.
Even before Rick's bike has stopped skidding across the ground, Mason skids hard to the side, coming up to the others with a victorious smirk on his features, the very pause in momentum enough to bring his ponytail whipping around front and over his shoulder. "Check it out...." he smirks, turning his gaze to the others, jerking thumbs back at himself. "Bad***, or what? Hah! Guess he was outta practice. Next time I'll believe `im...." With a quick motion, he spins the chain around and sets it back at his side again, his glance coming back to Twila dead on. "Sorry bout your boyfriend, sweetie....." he intones, "...kinda tradition and all. He was the best one of us at one time y'know? Guess that makes it official that I am now..." A chorus of laughter and congratulations from the other bikers drowns out anymore words then....
Down at the edge of the street, the other bike had come to a complete stop, resting on it's side, surprisingly still active despite it's crash...though the bodywork had taken a severe tearing in the process. With sudden movement, something tugs at the bike, and it's slowly hauled back up again, the figure of the lone rider easing back into the seat again, even at this distance the tears in his jacket easily visible, though it's hard to tell what other damage he suffered.....
Twila Peterson can still be seen staring within the direction of where the Hunter's bike had gone down even as her eyes glaze over and moisten. However, as soon as a glimpse of movement is seen, her eyes once more widen momentarily just moments before she forces herself to turn away, not wanting to attract attention towards him if it can be avoided. Her brows furrow towards the other bikers. She doesn't say very much, even now. But what she's thinking and feeling are clearly written on her features almost as if she had. "I don't see how you could have won *anything*," she finally manages after a moment or two more of silence.
Mason smirks back at Twila. "You got -no- idea do you sweetheart? See, now I got rights to stuff he had. Guess that includes his girlfriend too. " A devlilish grin spreads on his features, as he moves to begin climbing off the bike...
It's then that the dull roar of an engine fills the air, pulling silence from all the bikers assembled, their shouts turning into quiet staring. Mason himself slowly turns his head to glance back, scowling.....
Rick sits on his bike, chain still in hand as he glares at the assembled crowd, fingers gripping the handle of the chain tightly. The pain in his shoulders and sides is all but ignored right now....the kevlar lining in his jacket having done something to ease the contact he did make with the pavement. But by the bloody patches on his arms and upper legs, it's evident he didn't make it out unscathed.
Wordlessly, Mason climbs back onto his bike, swinging it around to face the challenger again, drawing his own weapon and revving his engine.
Within seconds, tires squeal once again, both forms shooting forward and picking up speed at a frightening pace. Compared to before, it's almost blinding in how quickly the two close the distance....and when they pass one another, there's the flash of steel again, and another explosion of sparks. At first, it's difficult to tell who connected with who....until Mason's bike literally jumps of it's own life, it's front tire locked by the chain jammed into it's spokes. With a howl of surprise, the rider completely loses his grip, turning airborne in the span of a few seconds and rocketing freely through the air, tumbling end over end, and disappearing out of sight as he smashes through the boarded up window of an abandoned storefront.
Continuing in his charge, Rick pulls his bike hard to the side, screeching sideways and coming to a rest within the circle of silenced gangers, some staring at him, others staring at where their leader disappeared.
The bull reploid glares for what seems like a few minutes, then finally growls. "Rules `r rules..." And reluctantly, his hold on Twila releases, as he deposits her on the ground once more, just as Rick slowly pulls himself off of the battered motorcycle, panting heavily....
Even as the reploid lets the young woman go she's able to stay there on her own for a full few moments as she tries to regain the breath that she held in when the point of impact was made. This is just before her hip voices its own disagreement with how she's been handled and decides at that moment to give out from under her, forcing her towards the unforgiving asphalt. .oO(Of all the...)Oo. she scolds herself even as she catches herself on the pavement. However, she's never been one to let her own injuries stop her...and slowly, very slowly, she limps towards the battered and bruised mentor of hers. "Rick?" she whispers as her eyes take in the toll his own frame was forced to undertake.
Rick Morgan has a wicked cut over his right eye, that oozes crimson in a steady stream, and his jacket has most certainly seen much better days, the kevlar underlining easily visible underneath. Elbows and his forearms are badly lacerated, much like the appearance of when one scrapes a limb on hard gravel, and his right hip looks like it took a good gash, hints of red showing from underneath the torn fragments of his jeans. He doesn't seem to react right away though, glancing towards Twila for a moment, and giving only a small nod, no verbal answer. He turns and jabs a hand out to the others. "You know the rules...." he finally grunts, as if having difficulty speaking. "I won. We can go."
Silence falls on the bikers as they seem to think over their current situation, glancing at one another. Finally, one of them speaks up. "Mason's gonna want your tail for this...."
Rick merely quips, "I'm aware of that....and I don't care. We can go...." With that, he raises one hand to touch Twila's shoulder, as if to help provide support, and guide her towards the truck as well...
As luck...or perhaps unluck might have it. The very ground begins to tremble, shake, vibrate and practically break apart as the big-bellied, overly muscled, insanely gigantic body of Colossal enters the area. The monstrous repliforcer looking around and overcrowd, beady eyes observing the area. Big arms at his sides and huge body moving in a loping prehistoric hunch. Muscled back arced into the air like a hill. As big as a moving warehouse with legs...the giant moves along the area. Not on the wooden piers though, but enough to rattle, shake and dwarf even the grizzled reploids that are in the area.
Twila nods quietly, centering in on those words: We can go. A hand of hers is raised as well and rests itself upon the man's wrist, almost wincing as she touches the wetness as it expands over his arm on further down towards his hand as she takes a step forward back towards the truck. "Let's go home---" she manages moments before the ground begins shaking underneath their feet. Her first impulse is to move closer to Rick, regardless if he's a bloodied mess or not.
The bikers notice it too, though some of them are too busy digging their unconscious leader out of the building to pay much attention. As Kong lurches into semi-view (as those who are large enough to dominate a part of the skyline are want to do), some of them point and mutter amongst themselves, though there's a lack of concern, since they have nothing to do with the large reploid. Even the big bull reploid who held Twila earlier tilts his head in Kong's direction, muttering, "Get a load of the walking gut...." before shaking his head and mounting up on his bike. Carrying their leader's form, the others do the same, revving the ancient combustion engines in a cacophony of rumbles that thrum through the street, mixing with that of Kong's footsteps, then peel out, vacating the scene in quick, orderly fashion.
Rick either doesn't notice the shaking or is too preoccupied to deal with it right now. His breathing heavy, he manages to make it as far as near the front door of the truck, when the bikers take their leave and he finally collapses back against the front tire, sinking to the ground with a loud groan, his head tilting forward just a bit. Even glancing at the ground, his first question can be heard. "Did...did he hurt you Twila?"
Colossal Kong grunts a bit and emits a rumbling snort from his nostrils as he straightens up to his full height and observes the movements of the bikers. A dangerous and annoyed rumble escapes him, followed by a dull amused grin before he turns his attention to look about the area. Beady eyes sweeping down the roads towards the couple who in the distance seem to be in abit of trouble. He pauses abit and hmms.oO(This aint exactly Repliforce juris..juris..what's th'word..jurisidiction. But they look like they need help. Huh, wonder if those bikers are part o'this..)Oo.
Twila Peterson follows the attentions of the other bikers as they depart the area as she and Rick seem to help one another towards the flatbed. Her grip on his wrist offers an extremely gentle squeeze before she tosses the massive reploid ahead of them a wave of distress, not of greeting, hoping she can gain his attention even as Rick slides to the city floor. She can't really do much but join him as her own hip one more attempts to give out. A hand is placed on his shoulder as she answers softly. "No. You didn't give him a chance to..." before she waves another hand towards the Repliforcer. Yes, it does indeed seem as if she recognizes him. Finally, she calls out his name. "Kong?" she cries hopefully.
Rick Morgan shifts just a bit, giving a small nod as if to let her know he understood. He squints, one eye closed as he finds it hard to see through the crimson threads on his face. His right leg looks extremely blackened and scratched....but surprisingly appears to only have cosmetic damage on it's form. "Didn't think I'd...make it back that second time.." he breathes heavily, laying his head back against the rim of the tire....
Recognizing Twila's voice, Kong blinks and begins to quickly lope forward. Using his huge knuckles to press him ahead with reasonable speed. "Huh, Miss Peterson..?" rumbles his massive voice as he approaches the two. His optics then widen as he looks down and sees Rick's condition and then he rumbles in shock, "What happened?! Did those gangs do this? What's goin' on?" he snarls, anger rising up quickly in him as he straightens up to his full height and then sweeps his gaze across the harbor to see where the gangs took off to.
Said gangs are of course already on their way out, thick exhaust following in their wake as their motorcycles carry them at top speed away from the scene, not so much fear of just Kong retaliating.....but rather that of the authorities showing up too. Anything that would cramp their style.
Twila Peterson turns back to Rick momentarily before opening her jacket and sacrificing her outer shirt to use at least as a something to hold back the river flowing from his head wound. She carefully applies pressure against the wound using the shirt, hoping the injury isn't as bad as it looks. "Shhh. Just rest," she tells him as she looks back towards the giant as he arrives. "Kong, it'll have to be explained later. Right now Rick has to be gotten back to Hunter Headquarters for immediate attention. Could...could you help us get back?"
Colossal Kong rumbles, "Ahhh.... Alrighty...alright." He frowns, unsure if he should move Rick however and he shakes his head, "Yeah..yeah. But...Well. Ah, heck. Okay.. Lemme see what I can do." He crouches down low and looks Rick over, trying to see how hurt he is. "Man, o man. Okay buddy. I'm gonna try and move you 'ere. I hope yer not to badly hurt. I don't think I should be movin' folk if they're hurt pretty bad. Yer not exactly a reploid."
Twila Peterson takes the opportunity to wrap the makeshift bandage gently, but firmly over the gash and around Rick's forehead, hoping that would help lesson the bleeding somewhat before scooting hers to his other side. "Feeling any bones broken, Rick?" she asks quietly.
"I hope not...." Rick returns, trying his best to remain even a semblance of his usual self right about now. "I don't need more busted ribs. " He takes a deep breath as he moves his arms somewhat, "Feels like I went through a meat grinder though...." He keeps his eyes closed for now, perhaps as a force of habit, or perhaps not wanting to look down at his own bloodied form right about now. Finally, his response seems to go towards Kong, "Just go `head and do it...before I leak all over the place here..."
Twila Peterson offers a nod towards the Repliforcer as if in extra encouragement to try. "He'll be better moved than not..." is all she offers.
Colossal Kong rumbles, "Alright, alright." He reaches down and begins to gently scoop Rick up into his huge arms. "Easy there." he mutters, going slowly and then grinning, "I don't wanna accidentally hurt you more." he slowly rises up and begins to step backwards while rumbling towards Twila, "You go on ahead o'me ma'am. Lets get you both back to the Maverick Hunter HQ."
Rick Morgan grits his teeth as he's moved, the raw flesh from his dragging across open pavement being painful to the touch, but he bites back any sort of expression, instead relying on just staying as physically quiet as possible right now. "Guh......." he mutters, moving his head back again as he tries to relax in Kong's grip. "Th...thanks...."
Twila Peterson glances towards the ground for a moment before forcing herself up using the tire as a support before stumbling towards the ripped open door of the driver's side and obtaining her cane...suddenly remembering that although Rick knew they way down here, she did not. She slowly pulls herself out, appearing somewhat embarrassed. "Which way is it from here?" she questions.
Colossal Kong rumbles, "Here, I think this way." He starts to thud slowly towards the east. Rocking and shaking the ground yet using the enormous mass of his frame to cushion Rick so that the shockwaves don't jostle him to much as they rumble through Kong's body upon impact. "I got the lead. Just stay close t'me, Miss Peterson."
<Soon...>
Medical Bay <Hunter HQ> This room is kept immaculately clean and organized, from the polished tile floor to the bright exam lights and walls painted with soothing colors. Several repair and medical beds for robot and human patients line the walls, monitors above them indicating the status of the patient's vital signs. There are no windows here, as this is in the center of the floor and heavily reinforced against possible attack. It is here that the Maverick Hunter medics patch up the wounded.
Colossal Kong lurches into the bay with his usual immense steps. He frowns and then moves to set Rick down towards a medbed while stepping back worriedly. "Just wait till I get back t'that city and find that gang," he snarls darkly..
Rick Morgan grunts as he's set down, now that he's in the light his form looking rather bad compared to the white linen sheets underneath him. "Don't....worry bout it.." he says quietly in Kong's direction. "They'll be.....long gone by now....anyway. No point in lookin...." Slowly, he shifts and forces himself upwards, trying to move his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, in an attempt to remove it...
As soon as the odd trio arrives back within the bay, Twila immediately heads for the medical supplies. About now she's tired and rather hurting. And it can be perhaps noticed by the way she's carrying herself as well. But she can't deal with her own discomfort at the moment. Someone else needs her. As she sets out what it she needs takes hold of a stool so she can at least rest her injury while she works. After getting what she needs to ready she reaches up to help Rick remove his coat. "Have a feeling that may need a little more than just dry cleaning..." she idly notes as she proceeds to help him move the first arm through the sleeve. "We were lucky you happened to come by when you did, Kong. What...brought you down to the Harbor?" she questions the Repliforcer as if in an attempt at a distraction.
Colossal Kong listens and then rumbles to Rick, "I dunno. I'm thinkin' that maybe I should go back..." he snarls. Not wanting to disturb the efforts but barely concealed rage in his throat is probably obvious. He calms and then rumbles to Twila, "No problem. I was just..takin' a stroll. Wanted to see San Angeles and all. Was off duty at th'time."
"Wouldn't be the first time...." Rick grunts, pertaining to his jacket's condition, as he slowly allows himself to be helped in disposing of the first sleeve, then the second in similar order. With something akin to relief, he sinks back onto the bed, though his face remains scrunched up in pain from the lacerations on his arms and hip, looking like he'd indeed suffered a severe case of road rash.....which is just what he got.
Twila Peterson nods as in reply to Kong as the coat is discarded for the moment. She sighs quietly as she looks on what the coat had concealed. After a gentle wag of the head she first checks the head injury. Well....the bleeding has stopped...or at least slowed due to the pressure applied against it. But, "Kong...I need you to keep talking to Rick. Try to keep him awake for me. Can you do that?" she asks as she starts cutting into Rick's shirt in order to get to his wounds.
Colossal Kong rumbles, "I wanna know who did this to 'im." He narrows his eyes and grunts, "C'mon buddy. Stay with me. You still owe me that match with the Kodiak, right?" he grins. "Me and it, goin' one on one. Come on buddy. Keep talkin' to me.."
Rick Morgan was saved horrible injury thanks to the lining of his jacket, though he certainly has still got his fair share of punishment he took....and bruises for that matter, the skin underneath greatly purplish in appearance where he took the worst hits. It's a wonder he even lugged the bike back up to a standing position again.
"Y'keep talkin like I'm gonna go into shock or somethin..." Rick mutters slowly, his eyes starting to take a rather dazed look to them as he stares upwards, though they twitch just enough to glance over in Kong's direction. "Yeah...." he says quietly. "Take it to a good match with us or somethin.....gotta get to that soon, else we're gonna forget...." Even as his ramblings continue, his voice keeps speaking as if in a faraway zone.
Twila Peterson moves allows the hip injury to wait a moment as she starts tending to the worst of the injuries first. The girl gently cleans the skin in and around the wounds before rubbing an ointment over the lacerations of his arms and shoulders before starting to carefully wrap them within bandages. "Come on, Rick...stay with us here," she prods. Before moving to the his injury she gestures Kong over and retrieves some sort of ice pack after unwrapping the man's head wound. She knows the reploid's rather huge. But he has been known to be rather gentle as well. She gently places the cold pack where the wrapping had been. "Gotta bring down that swelling. Kong...another favor? if you could make sure that pack there stays were it is ok?"
Colossal Kong glances up wards Kalinka briefly and then rumbles down towards Rick, "Heh, go into shock. Well y'know.. Uh..." He pauses as he hears Twila and then rumbles, "Er..I can try, Miss Peterson." He reaches a gigantic finger down and presses it as gently as possible along the cold pack. Granted, his finger is big enough to engulf all of Rick's body so soon it'll have to move if Twila is intending on continuing to work. "I'm not exactly good with workin' with small things ma'am..."
Rick Morgan blinks slowly as he gets nudged just a bit with Kong's huge finger poking close, though he doesn't move at all. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side, watching Twila work quietly, his own eyes half-lidded, though he seems to be trying to concentrate on something or other. "Glad they...didn't hurt you..." he murmurs. "...didn't know....what else....I could do. When I...wiped out...I knew I....hadda get back.....up again. Couldn't....let y'down..."
Twila Peterson looks up from where she was about to cut into the jeans. She pats the finger with an actual smirk. "Just...keep your finger there on the other side of the table. That should be enough to keep it from falling," she says, trying to encourage him. "It doesn't have to be right on the pack per say..." As soon as Kong moves his finger she starts working on the fabric...mindful to place a towel or two by the area so nothing would be revealed in case some of the jeans decided to flap over. Upon her mentor's injection she glances up and nods with a tiny smile. "You could never let me down, Rick..." she merely tells him.
Colossal Kong rumbles, "Alright." He frowns abit, still thinking about heading back to San Angeles to try and find that gang. He mutters under his breath and shakes his head now and then but otherwise remains quiet and still and moves when asked to. Looming over both Twila and Rick and assisting as best he can. "What a mess..." he grunts...as he now falls into the background.
"Could be worse...." Rick mumbles. "Coulda got tagged by that first guy that ran at me.." he shakes his head slowly from side to side, closing his eyes for a few moments. "Kinda funny....doesn't really hurt as much anymore..."
Twila Peterson begins wrapping up the hip as she had the other injuries as carefully as she can after placing a bandage over the broken tissue. After cleaning the rest of his torso she checks something once more on the nearby monitor that had been watching his activity. Well...he's lost some blood, that's true. But not enough to justify a transfusion...at least not at this time. But she or someone else will have to monitor him. However, she does hook him up to an IV hooked up to him before she also injects something else into his system. One is to help in the pain, the other is to help with repairing or replenishing what had been injured or taking away. She returns to where she had placed the ice pack to check on how the swelling is coming. "Yeah...you definitely have a bump on the head..." she offers as she gently wipes the crimson from his features. "Stopped bleeding...but...you'll need stitches." The girl says this as she pulls the blanket over the rest of him up to his chin, then reaches for the desired items...
Rick Morgan sighs slowly, as he appears to relax all the more right now, though his senses seem to return about him somewhat. "Not like I'm new to it...." he says, then falls quiet again for a few moments, before his glance darts over to Twila again. "And yeah.....that's...some of the bunch I used to.....be associated with...." he says, almost as if ashamed of admitting it, before darting his gaze forward again.
Twila nods in acknowledgment as she gives the area a local anesthesia before proceeding on. "Yeah...I kinda gathered that," she tones softly as she works. "But remember, it's 'used too'. It's in the past, Rick. You're not with them anymore. You're here..."
Rick Morgan glances straight ahead, flinching only once as the anesthesia is applied, the returning to his quiet stare again. "I know....." he says. "...but -they- don't seem to. They won't let me drop it..." Again he closes his eyes for a few moments. "You saw what they did tonight....I would have normally told em to go do something to themselves.....but they'll find ways to get at me..."
Twila Peterson remains silent as she finishes up with closing the would before bandaging and wrapping...as well as reapplying the ice pack. "I saw..." she says in agreement as she sits back to take a momentary "breather". "Kinda like you trying to 'bury the hatchet' and them wanting to leave the handle sticking straight up..."
"What you saw was just the edge of it Twila..." he says quietly. "When I said we didn't try to hurt others.....it was that we didn't bother the average person. Life inside the group is usually fast-paced, brutal...." He sighs. "...and short." He then makes as if to shake his head slowly, mindful of his fresh stitches. "I was...into some pretty rough stuff, I'm not particularly proud of it.....I was just a kid too."
Twila Peterson studies him with a softened gaze thinking the placing of the various supplies and instruments she used can wait to be placed back until a more proper time. She touches a place upon his shoulder where she observed no injury and rests her hand there. "Rick, I'm a friend. I'm not a judge and jury. I'm not going to condemn you for whatever you may have done within the past."
Rick Morgan glances down again, her touch seeming to do little to cheer him. "Thanks Twila, " he says quietly. "But I think it's more of a case of me judging myself for things I've done in the past...."
Twila Peterson presses her lips together not commenting on that, at least at first. "Guilt isn't something that's easy to deal with," she concedes.
Rick Morgan nods. "Yeah....I know," he says quietly, then shakes his head. "But it's mine that I gotta deal with. I done those things....I gotta make up for em. Maybe with me doing this kinda work that I do now...." He clenches one fist. "...maybe it can start to make up for it."
Twila Peterson offers a small squeeze. "If that's the case, I think you've already started some time ago," she tones. "The past can't be changed no matter how hard we want it too...and no matter we do. And...there will always be scars. But the biggest thing that counts is you walked away from whoever you were and whatever you done and began again. Not many people make it that far."
Rick Morgan remains silent for a long time under her touch, finding no words to answer.......until finally. "Are you tryin to cheer me up...? It's workin.....a little."
Twila Peterson allows the tiniest of smirks touch her lips. "Guilty as charged."
Rick Morgan smirks just a bit, then sighs. "Guess my biggest worry is they're gonna try and bust my hoop next time they see me too. Mason ain't the forgiving sort." He shrugs then, and settles back. "Guess I'll deal with it then when it comes to it....."
A "Hmph!" is sounds from Twila. "Bet they're great at parties too." She keeps her hand where it is as if trying to offer whatever reassurances she can. "Hey, it's something you may have to deal with. Just remember...you don't have to deal with it alone. You...said the other night that I would be missed by the others here if something ever happened, just as Dr. Light and Rock state I'm now a part of the family. Unless I'm mistaken that goes for just about everyone else here...including you."
Rick Morgan glances back to Twila again, and raises a hand slowly, open palmed towards her. Notably, even with the crash he took, the new gloves she gave him came out of it all without a single scratch. "Thanks....." he says quietly....
Twila Peterson offers a warm smile and slides her hand within his, applying a gentle pressure within the process. "Welcome...Bro..."
Rick Morgan hmmms. "Careful with that name...could be gettin to stick a bit too much." He chuckles, then slowly closes his eyes again, noting the aches just starting to set in now. "Ugh...."
"Could always go back to calling you 'Teach'," she offers lamely in response as she lowers his hand back to his side, sliding it under the sheets, although she still retains a gentle grip upon it. "You're going be sore for a little bit and need some rest," she reminds him, as if he really needed reminding. "For right now I can't let you fall into too deep a sleep. But...if you want to simply rest..." *pause* "I'll be right here if you need me. Kay?"
Rick Morgan grunts. "Gotta rest...but can't fall to too deep a sleep...." he sighs. "Sometimes I hate flesh and blood...." he then glances down at his legs. "And other times I miss it....no such thing as a happy medium." He then tilts his head to the side, eyes drooping just a bit. "Yeah..I'm feelin kinda beat..."
Twila Peterson bobs his chin before reclaiming her hand. "You look kinda beat," she agrees. Come to think of it...she does too. But she can't allow herself to fall asleep...not with Rick needing to be watched for at least the next twelve hours. Well...she was told this would happen at times. Caffeine...here she comes. "Remember, someone's here beside you. You'll be all right," she says softly before adding a whispered, "Rest well, Rick. And...thanks."
Rick Morgan mumbles as he allows his eyes to droop further, a small, "...welcome...." as he allows his breathing to grow a bit more regulated, if somewhat fitful. His hands rest easily at his sides as he stays under the blanket.....savoring its warmth right now..
Twila Peterson observes the technician for a few lengthy moments as he's overtaken by exhaustion. She bends forward and places a light kiss on top of his head before she once more sits back within her seat. After a small amount of time passes she claims her cane and forces herself to stand...if only to place the supplies she used pack within their own places...to be kept there until the need for them is called for again.