The Lucky 13 chapter 3

[Irish Wolf]

“I need two hours” said Rogers, trying to keep from grinding his teeth.

“Why” asked Moore, arching a well-sculpted eyebrow.

“Are you really asking me that” countered the Major, giving the PDF officer a flat stare, “A special forces officer, with the authority to send anyone who gets in my way to Darkside?”

“I can give you an hour” mumbled the Colonel, looking towards the deck of the transport, slightly abashed.

“Two”

“One”

“One and a half” said Rogers, offering several coins of the local hard currency to uniformed militia officer. The silver circles glowed softly in the artificial light and reflected in the Colonel’s retinas. One could almost see the man become enticed at the offered money and the wheels in his head clicked together.

“Well” said Moore, taking the offered coins with a smile, “I do think the pilot should run a systems check on the whole bird before we leave.”

“That sounds reasonable” agreed Robert, “Just make sure you and the pilot remain inside, we’ve been having pest problems lately.”

“Will do” said Moore, as the ramp lowered and the army officer walked out into the sunshine. A smile was on the man’s face, as the transport closed back up and he started to count the bribe he had accepted. There was nothing like the corruption rampant within the Federation, to keep all the wheels and cogs running smoothly. A little money to grease the way here and there.

Commissar Fredrickson glared Alistair. The big man had been so quiet, why now, just when they were about to hand out weapons, did he have to return to the way his file claimed he acted like? It was just another headache that Provost didn’t need to have added on to the ones he already had. His finger tightened slightly around the trigger of his pulselaser pistol and then relaxed. He had orders.

“Alright scum” called the Lieutenant, addressing everyone in the bunkhouse, “I hope everyone had a good breakfast. The Major wants you lot out in front of the Armory, for a very special day. Now get in line and lets go!”

Without waiting for further instructions or answering any questions, the Provosts formed (shoves, threats and glares) the convicts into a line and marched them out. Just as they passed out of the line of sight from the transport, they could hear the hiss of the ramp. Behind them, came the Major, eating up the distance with great, almost angry strides and a stony expression on his face. The guards escorted their guests to the Armory, bring them to a stop before the long tables with the samples.

“So” said Rogers, walking around to stand before the convicts, as the Provosts formed a semi-circle behind them, “Who wants a gun?”

[Eisenhorn]

Cross simply gave the Commissar and his Provost boys an amused smirk as they began herding the convicts and got to him. Being angry and belligerent never quite had the same effect as being amused. Amused meant he didn't take them seriously, which got under the skin of the Provosts he had dealt with in the past. Granted, getting into a habit like that could be bad for him, but he made it this far making the odd gesture like that, he could make it further. It was the easiest thing to not fight with the Provosts, it wouldn't lead anywhere, and let them herd them.

Gravitating towards the front of the group, mainly to get a better view of what was going on outside as soon as possible, he scanned the armory once they arrived. The toys were here, it seemed. He guessed that was what the transport would have assisted with. That wasn't the sole goal though, or it would have probably left already. Why waste time here otherwise? That would most likely be answered soon enough anyways, so he contented himself with looking over the toys. They were not pulse weapons was the first thing he noticed.

Non pulse meant old, museum worthy pieces most likely. Just because he was a convict didn't mean he was stupid. He had good marks in history, back in school. Shotguns, sub machine guns, assault rifles, a rifle he had to bet was meant for sniping from its design, and a machine gun. That would probably go to the big guy if they needed it. He could heft the ammo around most likely. What disappointed him most was the lack of incendiary toys. Fire would have fit his talents the best, but he would have to improvise if it became necessary. But for now he just scanned the toys before him, and glanced at the Major when he asked about who wanted a gun.

"Finally getting our guns? Good, give the Provosts a collective nervous breakdown. The scum of society being given weapons." He left out how they were all horribly outdated. That would have been just stating the obvious. He didn't ask about the transport either, if it was important, it would come up. Otherwise he would live with not knowing why it had lingered. For all he knew it was just doing checks and hadn't had time to take off yet. He was scanning what was laying there, already having options in mind. Assault rifle was out. Middle of the road gun here? Yes, but the other specialist weapons beat it out. He was tempted by a shotgun. Up close and personal, where he was comfortable.

Stepping right past the Major, he picked up one of the shotguns and smirked. The particular model had its stock collapsed, and it appeared to be semi-automatic. Fire every pull of the trigger. One of the others had a pump, which he would leave for some other poor sod to fight with. He looked down the sights, noting the room he had and shook his head slightly. It was a shotgun, if they were close enough to need it, he just would need to point in the right general direction, and fire until the problem either went away, or had enough holes put in it to be rather lacking in remaining substance. He kept toying with it, avoiding the trigger all together for the moment.

[DeeviousDemon]

The ruckus outside, had an unnerving effect on Lynx. She didn't like any sort of commotion, simply because it always meant that things were about to change. This definitely wasn't the usual cargo arrival, so much was clear. Rounded up by the provosts, she bit her lip when one shoved his elbow deep into her waist, urging her to move along quicker. She shot him a disapproving glare, grumbling something under her breath, almost tempted to take a lunge at him for even touching her, though for now she tried to suppress the thought.

This bastard isn't worth getting into trouble for, I'll see to you once I get a bloody gun, the voice in her head had an alarmingly happy tone to it, one could say it almost sounded melodic?!

An ugly smirk, tucking away on the corners of her lips, Lynx tried not to smile much, the reason being - it had gone completely lopsided. The scar-tissue on the right side of her face, due to negligence, had formed semi-rough, leaving her with hardly any expressive feature. Not that there was much to smile about, but the occasional pain inflicted upon a provost by some suicidal convict, was worth it. After the initial - push and shove, Lynx found herself next to the brute of a man Alistair and Jason.

She herself was just around the 6 foot mark, but there was something about Alistair that send chills down her spine, she never felt this uncomfortable before. Maybe it was his macabre appearance, the jagged teeth, filed into shark-like fangs, saying his persona was rather unsettling would be an understatement. Trying not to stare at him in fear of what he might do, she focused her emerald gaze upon the major.

"So, Who wants a gun?", now the Major had her undivided attention.

Her eyes flickering up in disbelief, did I just hear that right, questioning herself. Giving her left and right a quick glance, she didn't give it a second thought, Lynx was just about to take a step forward when Jason made his move. She watched him carefully, walking past the Major, picking up a semi-automatic Shotgun, Now all he has to do is aim it at the Major and it's all over. Raising her right hand just above the left shoulder, she let it nervously run over the deep scars placed upon her arm, she felt uneasy at best. There, if only for a moment, was a convict with a gun in his hands - he could put an abrupt halt to her plans.

Surely it isn't loaded or is it?? Following his suit, she didn't waste much time, she felt the need to protect herself.

Walking up to the display of rifles, she looked over the assortment before making a choice. It was between a L115A3 Long Range Rifle and an M16 with an M203 attachment. She weighed the pros and cons of each, first of all the sniper rifle was one heavy bitch, 7 kg when loaded while the M16 was a light weight fully automatic, which was good in close quarters as well as to some degree accurate over a certain distance - but that would also mean she would be most likely in direct contact with the enemy. In comparison to that, the long range rifle was far more safe, she could lay back and provide cover, she chuckled at that thought ... covering who? She made her choice, grabbing the heavy rifle, she heaved it up onto her shoulder. Her athletic frame allowed her to carry something as heavy as this with ease, although it would slow her down to some degree - she took the chance.

[Celedia]

Natalia rubbed the goose bumps from her arms as the man next to her finally spoke, "You were close to being the breakfast, as well as putting on a show." The comment elicited a laugh from the petite brunette and she shook her head vehemently, tousling chocolate hued strands about her shoulders.

”I have faith in our Provost hosts. I think they’re a little –too- trigger happy when it comes to that man….” she trailed off as the Lieutenant began to yell at them, a soft snicker escaping her lips as he said, “I hope everyone had a good breakfast." Hopefully he was being sarcastic. She would bet her life savings (pre-incarceration) that he had never had to choke down one of those vile bars. Good? Not even close. Manageable yet nausea inducing? Closer to the truth.

As she was jostled into a single file line, she skipped ahead a few convicts to make sure she didn’t have Alistair at her back. Though she might profess apathy when it came to the giant of a man, she was truly scared of him now. The rumors had hinted at his darker side but up until today she had seen nothing to fret over, except for the sharp pointy teeth. Instead, she kept ahead of the other guy, Jason, in hopes that he didn’t turn out to be some sort of murdering fiend as well.

Once they reached the armory, her eyes widened with delight. A plethora of goodies lay out before them, some of which she was surprised they would offer to convicts and others which made her wonder how badly the Provosts wanted them to die.

“So” said Rogers, walking around to stand before the convicts, as the Provosts formed a semi-circle behind them, “Who wants a gun?”

Really? They were going up against crazy creepy aliens and they were giving them this shit?

“Where are the slingshots? If we’re just looking to piss them off I might get a better reaction if I just throw rocks at ‘em.” She covered the rest of her statement with a cough. Natalia hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud but she had a bad habit of talking before the words could even be processed in her brain.

Two of the convicts had already gone forward to snatch their guns, a boomstick and a rifle. Good choices but so outdated. She wanted her ship, her guns. That would make this suicide mission suck a tad less.

[klikxx]

“So” said Rogers, walking around to stand before the convicts, as the Provosts formed a semi-circle behind them, “Who wants a gun?”

It was like an open buffet at an orphanage as a whole host of greedy hands fondled the goodies claiming their portion before it was too late. There were only thirteen of them no need to seem too eager. There seemed to be more than enough to go around. Besides, the best of the best was likely tucked safely away for the major and his men.

“That offer include me Major?” Alistair inquired sarcastically.

It was as if the big man was almost daring the Major to turn him down if front of the others. There was a long silence that followed with the two adversaries locking horns once again.This time they matched wits upon a psychological battlefield. Both men simply stood unflinching for several minutes starring each other down waiting for the other to back down.

“Take what you want.” The Major blurted realizing he didn’t have time for games. Not given the details of his recent briefing.

Alistair pushed past the eager beavers that had already rushed forward crowding the table. The collection had included submachine guns, assault rifles, shotguns, a single light machine gun, sniper rifles, a few machine pistols and assorted handguns. Many of which already had grubby little hands wrapped around them claiming them as their own. None of it appealed to him really. His hands were much too large to handle anything he considered so light and delicate.

"Anything?"

“YES, anything ! Just get on with it.” Rogers snapped.

Alistair had spotted the location of the hidden treasure long ago while the others stuffed their pockets with garbage. It took a little time to absorb what he had witnessed but there it was, just as they had talked about. Its presence was improbable given the circumstances that had transpired but somehow it had still found its way here and she had lead him right to it. He walked around the tables and across the armory seating himself upon a small elongated crate situated between two provosts.

“I’ll take what is stowed away in here.” Alistair remarked tapping his long crooked fingers upon the lid.

If his assumptions regarding the whereabouts of the article in question were correct the shit would surly hit the fan. There was no way the Major would allow such a lethal item into his hands. Not without a fight.

[Kohananinja]

It was simply out of habit that Charlie carefully watched Alistair, but at the moment she rather glad she had. The convicts within their summoned group had gone for the little goodies eagerly enough, but the fact Alistair hadn’t made a move had put her on edge. She did however, take the liberty of taking one of the machine guns in the pile and put it into Katrina’s hands, mussel down, and ordering her not to use it unless expressly ordered to by the Major. Over cautious or not, she’d read the girls file (or at least enough of which that hadn’t been blacked out), and she wasn’t going to end up in a bloody heap if or when she went through another of her little episodes.

“Oh cut the bullshit soldier boy.” Charlie cut in curtly towards Alistair, her green cat eyes flashing with annoyance as she used the nickname she’d dubbed him and he seemed to dislike so greatly, just to get the point across. “We’re all batting for the same team here, let’s try and act like it.” It was rather obvious that there was something of value in that crate, and for whatever reason, the Major hadn’t decided to reveal it yet. Him she trusted, Alistair not so much, especially when he was acting like such a little shit. It almost reminded her of the old Alistair, and that thought was enough to put a shiver down her spine. She’d need to watch him more closely, and maybe give the other female convicts some warning…even they didn’t deserve what psycho cannibal Alistair was capable of doing to them.

“So what’s with the toys Boss? We get our marchin’ orders or somethin’?” Charlie asked the Major with her customary address for him, a dark quirked brow as she deprived Alistair of the attention he so obviously was looking for, as heads turned from him to the Major.

[klikxx]

“Oh cut the bullshit soldier boy.” Charlie cut in curtly towards melodramatic convict. “We’re all batting for the same team here, let’s try and act like it.”

Alistair simply rolled his eyes shaking his head in disbelief at the ill-timed chirping.
“Do you really want to go there?” he thought regarding her prodding.
“She really should know better by now.”

“So what’s with the toys Boss? We get our marchin’ orders or somethin’?”Charlie asked the Major in what Alistair believed to be a poor attempt to deflect the approaching conflict. He still had the floor and wasn’t about to let her belligerent attitude towards him go unaddressed.

“You can’t hide forever you know.”

“They don’t call the beast in the box ‘The ‘Ripper’ for nothing. The aggressive little devil is designed to take out enemy aircraft, small watercraft, communications equipment, radar equipment, crew served weapons and similar targets. It no doubt will tear effortlessly through you, your little private puppy you have panting at your side, and whomever else you stack between us before taking out the Tarnakin on the other side of the wall behind you without even slowing down.”

The ill-tempered giant stood as he spoke turning to remove the lid of the container in question. Tossing the wooden covering aside Alistair reached in grasping the weighty object and yanked it one handed from the box. What was removed truly was a beast of a weapon constructed of high grade plastics and light metal to reduce the weight of the forty-pound monstrosity. Weapon in hand he made his way directly towards Charlie.

“I’ve tried the team player thing before, didn’t really suit me. I’m not saying I’m as opposed to this whole fight for freedom idea as I was. I just needed to find a reason to believe; something to look forward to on the outside. It took me until now to realize what it was…. I’ll call that new found inspiration Tyson.”

A sickly wicked grin, followed by a knowing wink would emphasize his point as he stared down his accuser.

“Here, take it!” He stated emphatically roughly thrusting the weighty object into her chest. “Not like you or your butch girlfriend here could lug this thing cross country through enemy lines effectively.
So, shut your pie hole and stay out of my business and maybe I’ll stay out of yours.”

[Kohananinja]

Pure unadulterated fury was the first emotion to flash across Charlie’s face when Alistair uttered the name Tyson, the name of her only living brother. There were only two people who know about him, or at least his level of importance to her, and one had died floating out into space. Even her file didn’t go into detail about her brother, and certainly didn’t give name and location as he was still in the Federation’s foster system. That left the Major, and she was fairly certain he wouldn’t have added to her file (at least not about that), and was positive he would never willingly offer up information of any kind past necessary for the mission to Alistair. So how the hell did he know about Tyson? A snarl escaped her, hate rolling off her very being in that moment as her eyes told him where he could shove that damn Ripper.

As for the butch and lesbo insult flung her way, Charlie could care less. Maybe the rumor, however inaccurate, would help point all the provost suppressed sexual frustrations in another direction. As for Katrina, well Charlie never really knew what the hell was going on in her head. She doubted the girl understood the insult, though she seemed to clutch the weapon in her hands almost defensively due to Alistair’s aggressive and close proximity.

“Is that a threat soldier boy?” Charlie tossed back, refusing to be intimidated and held her ground, and not surrendering an inch, despite the fact he quite effectively towered over her. “And as far as I’m concerned, you with a gun is the business of this entire unit, especially the Major’s, so quit being such a grandstanding peacock and fall in line.” She had no doubts that the Major would give out the Rippers when he was good and ready. She’d come to trust his judgment, and knew from experience, despite his less than enthused way of addressing them, he took care of his own. If Alistair had a beef about the weaponry he could take it up with the Major in private without trying to cause divisions within their ranks, and she felt quite certain that’s what he was trying to do with this little show.

[Irish Wolf]

Rogers reached into the breast pocket of his utilities, pulled out a thin metal case, opened it and pulled out a cigarillo. Closing the case, he slipped it back into his shirt and pulled out a lighter. Touch a flame to the tip of the small cigar, he sucked in drug laced smoke, as the giant and the loyalist of his convict soldiers got into a pissing match. He let it continue for a minute or two, before smoothly drawing the Mark IV at his side. There was a whine and a crack, followed by the smell of ozone, as he fired a single lance of red energy into the ground between the two.

“Children” said the Major, his voice in a firm, neutral tone, “Stop this bickering or I’ll take away your toys.”

Anger and irritation frothed and boiled in his mind. How in Hell, did Alistair find out what was in unopened crate? He didn’t remember telling anyone about that little treasure. It couldn’t have been that he had let something slip last night, while he was enjoying Inali brand of entertainment? Even if he had, he wouldn’t have said all of that about the Mark I, so even if his bed partner and the giant’s former had told him about the weapon, how did he knew so much about it? It would have been surprising if Natalia, the former gun smuggler had piped up with specs for a limitedly produced and rarely used weapon but Alistair had been sent to jail for eating women, not running guns.

Admittedly, the big cannibal was likely the only one of the convicts, who could hump the cannon and ammo around. That didn’t mean Robert wanted to give the biggest and baddest gun to him. He would have rather wasted a few more bodies making it a crew weapon but that didn’t make too much sense given their mission. Besides, Alistair had been behaving himself lately, maybe he could allow….Hell, they were all going to die on the mission anyways and he might have an idea to keep the giant from killing him, on purpose.

“Alistair” continued Rogers, holding his pistol pointed at the ground, “Cut the crap or all you get is a BB gun. Charlotte, leave him alone and worry about your own gear for today.”

“Now then” said the Major, turning to look at the rest of the convicts, “We do have orders but you’ll learn about that later. Once you’ve picked out a weapon, step over dummies we’ve set up. The Commissar will hand you some ammo and you can try it out. Then we’ll let you try out a pulselaser pistol. Once your done, hand over your weapon and head for the bunkhouse. There will be black utilities on your racks. Put them on and wait there. We don’t have a lot of time, so be quick about it.”

“Oh” added Robert, “If you don’t like what we have to offer Natalia, I can always order a second BB gun for you.”

[Celedia]

Natalia kept a watchful eye on Alistair and Charlotte but she didn’t really pay attention to them as they battled verbally. Instead, she was eyeing the candy store of treats in front of her, wondering if the Major would mind if she modded the weaponry that she picked out or if that was against some sort of unspoken rule.

Finally, in the corner, she spotted a ‘Hallsweeper’ carbine with a CR-2 blast attachment. It was basically a submachine gun with about a 53m range and the cryo-attachment dispensed a short burst of cold energy that was devastating to the cold-blooded or other people simply unprepared for the sudden chill, stunning them momentarily. She ran her fingertips along the stock for a brief moment before picking it up.

“Oh” added Robert, “If you don’t like what we have to offer Natalia, I can always order a second BB gun for you.”

She arched her eyebrow at the Major then grinned wickedly, shaking her head. “No thanks, I think this will do me.” It was obvious that she would have to clean the gun, she hated second hands but at 4 lbs it was lightweight and therefore easy for the petite girl to carry, 15 or so inches when the stock was collapsed, 25 inches when it was extended with a rate of fire of about 950 rounds per minute. What a beauty.

The slingshot and even the bb gun might be hilarious options but unless she was planning on baiting herself for the aliens so that the rest of the crew could bring in the bigger weapons, she would stick with this.

She ignored the rest of the convicts momentarily as she removed the CR-2 attachment, checking the intake as well as the battery life. It was an old school weapon so it relied on defunct energy cells but she could probably rig to charge the cells in the compartment if she had the right tools. Replacing the CR-2 and clicking it into place, she finally looked over at the dummies they had set up and waved over the Provost with the ammo, holding out her hand with her palm up as she smiled sweetly. “Can I have some ammo for my new toy?”

Grunting, the Provost slapped a box magazine into her hand and waved her over to the dummies. Natalia wrinkled her nose at the man, she was half-tempted to blast a cryo round at him but decided that he wasn’t worth the effort. Though the effects weren't long-lasting she didn't want to get into trouble right after she had touched a weapon. Strolling forward, she took a practiced stance and fired off a round at the dummy, smirking softly as her line of bullets nearly decapitated the poor thing.

“Next!” She called out happily, clicking the safety on out of habit as she walked back to the tables, fingers wrapped tightly around her treasure.

[wakeangel]

Nemesis pushed herself toward the fore of the group headed outside and stood slightly apart from the rest. The Major's face was impassive, but his tense body language told her that whatever had brought the transport here wasn't good news. Even this early in the morning the sun beat down, so the slight errant breeze that ruffled the strands of her black hair was welcome.

Walking up the small armory arrayed out before them, she ignored the rifles and other large, cumbersome weapons in favor of handguns. Standing in front of them, she picked up one after the other, visually inspecting each gun and testing for grip and balance. Disdaining the flashy models, she went instead for the workhorse guns, pistols proven reliable under the rigors of battle. Many of them were refurbished models, not even new, and she wanted guns she could count on.

A convict stepped in and grabbed a gun she had set aside for consideration. Without saying a word, Nemesis snapped a sharp elbow to his face forcing him to drop it and stagger back several paces. Dismissing him entirely, she tapped a finger to her masked lips thoughtfully for a moment and then decided she didn't want that particular gun after all and threw it back on the table.

Searching through what was left of the pile, she made a soft noise of near-orgasmic pleasure when she recognized the butt of a gun buried towards the bottom of the heap. Snatching it up, she ran careful fingers down the length of its barrel searching for flaws. Finding none, she tucked it into her belt and hurriedly searched to see if there were more. The Sendara Prime Munitions Systems SAL Mark V was her favorite high-powered handgun of all time, and while this was only a Mark II, she'd happily take it over any other gun on the table.

“Hells yeah,” she muttered excitedly as her search dug up another. She grabbed it, too, and a matched pair of Regina Dei Inquisitorial semi-automatics she'd already set aside, tucking each into her belt.

As she walked away, the convict, nursing a bloody nose snarled at her. “Bitch!”

She ignored him, knowing his type. Big mouth, no balls. Once shit hit the fan, he wouldn't last a week. Pushing past others, her path to the provost with the ammo took her right past Alistair and the far too pretty Charlie. She found it funny the way people keep giving Alistair shit. It was like poking a bear in a cage, ignoring the fact that the cage door was unlocked. They were idiots if they thought his trigger-happy guards could protect them should he decide to attack.

When the Major fired a shot to dissolve the tension building between Alistair and Charlie, she didn't so much as flinch. Instead she drew her knife, snatched up the hem of Charlie's shirt as she passed and sliced off several inches. Her new guns needed cleaning and until she could get her hands on proper supplies, this would do.

Itching to try out her new toys, she slapped the first Mark II into the provost's hand saying, “Do me up.”

[Eisenhorn]

Cross observed the drama with silence. The giant was acting up in a way comparable with a child. Stamping his feet and making dramatic noise just to attract attention and try to divide the adults on what they would do with the kid. Whether they would let him keep the toy just to silence his drama, or take it and discipline him for acting up. The latter would bring more noise and arguments, and further press the parents to simply let him keep the toy. Divide and conquer, he could see that. Which, of course, meant the Major would get it as well. He was hardly stupid, even if he did not plan on hanging around any longer than he absolutely had to.

Of course his female partner spoke up and promptly cut the attention between her and the giant. That was just asking for trouble, and the grip on the shotgun subtly shifted. It wouldn't fire a round without ammunition, but he still could use it as a weapon. It wasn't just holding it anymore, he could use it as a makeshift club. Just because she was acting as the voice of reason did not mean it would work. Having seen how the giant worked at the slightest provocation before, what with holding another convict under threat of becoming dinner, he wouldn't have bothered getting involved. Granted, the woman, giant, and Major had history, so she had greater bounds than the rest of the convicts, himself included, had. Watching bounds being tested would be useful, but he would not involve himself unless he had no other choice.

Cross saw the rage at the mention of the name Tyson. Tyson, he had to wonder why that name, of any, enraged her to the point of letting unfiltered emotion flash on her face. Perhaps a former lover, and not just sexual, or family? Regardless, giant had struck low with the name, and now she was pissed. He had to give her credit though, she wasn't going to be talked down by greater size and, apparently, intimate knowledge of her past. Of course, the Major stepped in with a single shot and his grip reverted. The moment had passed. He hadn't been looking through the guns because he had already found his primary piece, but he was going to root through the sidearms and see what he could scavenge up.

Watching another convict get an elbow in the face from the masked woman, and he was careful to avoid having to confront her. No need to make enemies through such trivial matters as grabbing a gun she was considering. What he did see was mostly refurbished and he had no interest in. He dug up a revolver, something ancient even when it came to these gunpowder weapons. What made it unique was the fact it was a Second Suns Twin Tiger .357 Revolver. What stood out, compared to the others was the diagonal barrel design, 6 inches in length, the ends had minuscule holes to help relieve pressure and lower kick, individual hammers for each chamber, punching out two rounds if one was stupid or brave enough to pull both triggers at the same time. Three double shots per reload, six if the triggers were pulled individually. Loud, hefty, slow to reload, but the sheer power was the attraction. Fit with the shotgun rather well as a back up piece.

Walking over to the range after promptly snagging the monstrous revolver and shotgun, he calmly regarded the provost handing out ammo. "Rounds and shells, not slugs, for testing." He was only given four shotgun shells and six rounds for the revolver. Smirking at the provost, and calmly walking to the firing line, he loaded the two weapons, starting with the shotgun. Bracing against his shoulder, he fired the shotgun, watching the four shells take down the dummy target. Setting the gun down, the receiver drawn back and safety on, he set the twin barreled revolver's sights on another target. The first four shots were center of mass, fired individually. Taking extra time to brace, he fired the last two rounds at once. Even braced, it kicked hard, and he had to give and let it kick up more than usual or risk breaking his arm. The results were worth it. The dummy's head was shaped like a slash had been put in the center, the two .357 rounds having punched through together. Subtle, it was not, but it did its job. Setting the revolver down on the table as well, he nodded after a few moments thought. "It's not an energy weapon, but it will suffice." Fit the giant and his brute look more, but it was his now.

[klikxx]

He had gotten to her. The rabid snarl that escaped Charlie’s lips as she glared furiously attested to the fact. Maybe now she would back off.

“Is that a threat soldier boy?” Charlie tossed back,

“Nope, guess not.”

“You seem to be the one with all the answers genius. You tell me.” Alistair remarked shaking his head in disbelief.

The rant continued. Alistair had heard her happy-go-lucky lectures one too many times immediately dispensing with the bleating remarks entering his own personal domain where different aspects of the tirade subconsciously morphed into song.A medley of whimsical melodies cycled through the giant's head accompanying the tedium that encompassed Charlie’s rose-colored propaganda. And he was the one accused of standing on a soapbox.

“Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high.........”

“Way too syrupy, how about....”
~CLICK~

“I need you
You need me
We're a happy Family. (To the tune of the Barney Song)”

“Ack,that's not refreshing either, something .....Something more ME.”
~CLICK~

“I’m a ruthless peacock,
Sly and Smart.
I long for the day,
to tear out your heart.
When you least expect it,
Then I’ll strike.
Chew you up,
And take delight. (To the tune of I'm a little teapot) “

“That’s more like it!”

The smile that had grown during his brief mental departure was quickly wiped off his face as the Major’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“Children. “Stop this bickering or I’ll take away your toys.”

“Children?” If he only knew the childishness that had just transpired within convict’s deluded mind he would cringe. The smile returned once again with the mischievous thought.

“Alistair” Rogers interrupted his delightful bliss once again, “Cut the crap or all you get is a BB gun.”

“Did he surmise what the conniving convict had been formulating? Never!” Alistair reassured himself. ”He’s grasping at straws. Besides I would prove to be more than a handful even toting the childish prank he suggests.

“As you wish." Alistair mocked snapping a salute of allegiance. "I am but a humble bobble-head dedicated to your service Major.”

“If that will be all….Sir?”

Not waiting for the Major’s edict Alistair turned following the others out of the armory whistling happily to the tune of I’m a little teapot. His armed escort trailing diligently behind as they made their way to the targeting dummies. Ushered into place upon the firing line the provost reluctantly handed him a clip containing three 25mm x 169mm armor piercing fin stabilized discarding sabot round, the first man-portable rifle to use this type of ammunition.

Alistair eyed the lifeless targets 50 feet down range loosely wrapping his sausage like fingers around the trigger. Oddly there was more than enough room to accommodate his freakishly large digits. The giant jerked the barrel of the awkward weapon upward by the L-shaped handle located atop the mount containing the ten rotating smoothbore barrels. After several moments studying the weapon toggling a variety of switches the man beast seemed satisfied slapping the near empty metal ammo casing into the vacant slot located in the base of the stock at the bottom of the weapon.

What happened next could not have been expected or prevented as a trio of loud booms erupted from the weapon of destruction. It was all he could do to keep hold of the lower grip the ripper as it whipped vehemently almost tearing his arm out of the socket fighting to control the weapon one handed. The massive recoil from the salvo was enough to spin him counter- clockwise nearly one hundred and eighty degrees from his initial bearing to face the others before he once again slapped his hand upon the L-shaped fore grip. He had once again gained control.

“No, no, no, no no!”What the hell was he thinking? The last thing he wanted to be interpreted under the current circumstances was that he was in control. The Major and his men needed little incentive to shoot the troublesome convict given his history and he wasn’t about to commit suicide by soldier. Not if he could help it. Alistair quickly released the weapon, opening both hands throwing them in unison palms forward above his head, as it fell harmlessly to the ground.

Even out of his grasp the cylinder of barrels continued to rotate furiously as if it had a life of its own. Alistair looked up from the possessed contraption to see several weapons trained upon his position. The big man was utterly surprised that none of the skittish provosts had inadvertently pulled their triggers filling him full of holes. The uncomfortable silence as short as it may have been was broken by an eerie screech of twisting metal erupting several hundred feet to his left.

As if matters were not bad enough the stunned viewers were taken aback bearing witness to the armor piercing capabilities of the finned round. At least one of the stray projectiles had apparently struck the metal post supporting the outpost’s communications array weakening it enough to initiate its descent towards the ground. A loud crash followed by a series of small pops and sparks from beyond the ridge indicated the fatal outcome of the fall. Unbeknownst to the flabbergasted witnesses was the tower’s final resting place precariously perched upon the visiting shuttle.

[Celedia]

Natalia had turned her weapon in as ordered and was holding her hand out for a pulselaser to ‘test’ when she heard a resounding boom filled the outpost, causing her to turn curiously towards its source. The giant cannibal’s eyes were wide with surprise and he tossed his weapon down before throwing his hands up into a position of surrender, which caused her lips to curve into an amused smirk.

The amusement however, was short lived and replaced by utter shock as the screeching of metal sounded from her side, causing her to turn once more only to witness one of the ‘targets’ that the mammoth man had hit.

One of the metal support posts for the communication tower buckled, groaning noisily as it gained momentum on its downward swing towards the ground. Another loud noise caused the brunette to wince and then—utter silence.

For a moment, she was too stunned to speak but then amusement replaced the shock and she couldn’t keep quite any longer. A small giggle disrupted the quiet, followed by a slightly louder chuckle which then erupted into an all out belly laugh which had her clutching her sides to prevent her ribs from breaking.

Natalia doubled over, a hand on each side of her torso as she laughed wildly. The most closely watched convict was not only given one of the most destructive weapons available but also given free reign to shoot it without proper instruction. It was like giving a toddler a flamethrower, someone was bound to get burned but you couldn’t blame the tyke for trying out the new toy he had just been given.

When her laughter had finally died down, she coughed slightly and stood back up, placing both hands on her hips as she surveyed the damage.

“Nice shot there, shark tooth. I’m sure the aliens will be pissed when we go to take out their cannons and end up blowing their outhouses to bits!”

[wakeangel]

With a warning glance that was suppose to inspire fear and a desire for good behavior into a woman devoid of both, the provost dug through his supply crates and gave Nemesis a clip for each gun, one round for each SAL and two each for the semi-automatics. Taking her time, she moved down the range and dry tested her first Mark II before chambering a round. Alistair moved into place beside her toting a behemoth of a gun nearly as big as she was.

She aimed and fired, and was taking a moment to adjust her sights, when Alistair's gun went off with roaring booms in triplicate. Calmly, she finished her adjustments, tucked the gun back into her waistband, and turned, pocketing the remaining bullets. Her mask was stiffer than human skin, but allowed for some expression. She smiled now, the full curve of her lips transferring through the mask as a faint sardonic grin.

While such guns were far to heavy for her to use effectively, one of her lieutenants had heavily favored rippers. She loved watching them in action. The splatter effect alone produced beautiful works of art. Her handguns could spray a wall, but she had to be pretty close to reproduce the same chunky texture.

Bending, she flipped a switch on the side of the gun. The barrel should have begun to spin down towards a halt, but instead kept whirling madly. Nemesis frowned and tried another switch. Still nothing. Finally, she managed to get the barrel to stop rolling by switching from automatic to single shot mode. Hefting the bulky piece, she held it out to Alistair, uncaring of the small arsenal pointed at them. If the Major's men were going to fire, they would have already. Bunch of pussies.

“I know what the switches do, but you're on your own from here. I hate to say it because I love rippers, but I think it's fucked.”

[Eisenhorn]

Cross had taken to watching the big convict with that monstrosity of a weapon as he played with a variety of switches. He'd almost be willing to bet hard currency that the man actually had no clue what he was doing, but just wanted to appear to be doing so. Key word being almost. This should be good, he thought to himself, as the big man took aim.

This was vindicated as big man utterly lost control as the thing kicked hard enough to throw the man one eighty spin. What kept his attention was not the spinning big man, as amusing as that could have been taken. He assumed two of the shots had at least stayed in the general area of the target, but the third one was what had caused the most inconvenient amount of damage possible.

The communication array, something that actually had some importance, had taken a stray hit from the weapon and begun its almost slow motion descent downwards. It hit its final resting place, which the shuttle was unlucky enough to be occupying. Even if it didn't kill the occupant, he certainly was glad he had not been on board at the time. Having a comm tower crash on your ride was not something he wanted to experience ever.

Of course, the one person who had already pissed off the big man was now laughing at his mistakes. Sense of self preservation, this one most certainly lacked. He doubted the provosts would of been able to drop the big man quick enough to avoid at least one blow connecting if it came down to it. And one blow, just going off looks, would hurt. He had enough common sense to avoid laughing, though he did have a faint smirk.

Looking as the masked woman picked the weapon up, and after a few switch flicks stopped the barrels, showed she at least had a clue about how to operate the thing, if he didn't believe when she said as much. But he kept his peace rather than taunt the big man. No need to make unnecessary enemies, especially since he was going to have to fight side to side with this bunch. He, instead, decided to speak towards miss giggles. "Laughing at someone who, not too long ago, had a firm grasp on you and was ready to knock you around is not usually the best idea."

Cross doubted that would garner more than a look and no verbal response, but it was worth saying. Infighting meant distractions, which meant his chances for survival were that much slimmer, especially if said infighting sparked out when it would be the most inconvenient to have occur. It was bound to happen though, considering the actions of the bunch so far, but he could at least try and offer a voice of reason now and then.