“Rude,” Lucius answers and finishes the last item. Though the news of a year’s stay kept him from considering more food.
“A year? No travel or nothin’ to other places?” He asked Roswell.
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“Sonny, the minute I walk outta this island the whole government will be after me to try and replify what I got.” Roswell pointed at Lucius with his plastic fork. “I don’t have sense for that legal _non_sense, so I sit tight until it’s all figured out. And then?”
“Back to my farm, my cars, and my retirement.” Roswell leaned back and rested his arms against his head before flailing and catching the table to prevent from spilling over backwards. “Would it kill them to add a back to these things?!”
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Wen got up from his seat to acquire a new set of fowl to feast on, intersecting the two others that had wanted to get food.
Wen grabbed a new selection, before observing Veronica and the mountain of
person , his clicking very much audible.
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Veronica was fumbling, trying carefully to touch the edges of some of the trays and utensils, to prevent too much burning. She turned around to the massive figure. “Hello. You are-?”
“Oh. That’s fair, I guess. Not really great with the law stuff either.” Lucius says before Roswell almost falls over. In response to adding backs he says, “Maybe chairs were too much for the budget?”
“Judging by the size of this whole place, I doubt budget is ever an issue here.” Silas said as he cleared the last piece of chicken, placing it on top of the pile of bones already on his pate before rising, dumping the trash in the garbage, and setting the trays where the other dirty one’s were located.
“Until there’s a union and suddenly there isn’t money,” Lucius retorts. He would have been done by now as well, but doesn’t get up to remove his items as of yet.
“Yes.” The man responded, and after a moment seemed to catch himself. “Oh! Oh, you mean my name. Sorry. I’m Reggie. Or Reginald. Same name. One’s shorter. I don’t suppose you’re new here? I see a lot of faces. I know most of them. Some of them I don’t. The elderly man who gets angry with me. The frail girl with hollow eyes. A good friend. You’re…”
There was a tiny shine of light in Reggie’s eyes, and they seemed to sink further into his head as an expression of suspicious realization danced in the back of his pupils, but he was broken out of his observation by a slap on the shoulder from Huber.
“Making new friends, Mr. Jackson?” The doctor grinned pleasantly, but Reggie grew apprehensive under his grip. “Double entendre.” The massive figure replied. “I noticed.”
“Well, well, I suppose it is,” The doctor replied with a laugh. “Well, make haste with your meal, as we’re all due in the courtyard in a few minutes.” No sooner had Dr. Huber released his hand and turned to go than Reggie began devouring chicken at a ferocious rate, pausing mid-devour to process that doing this in front of Veronica was super gross. He sidled off to the side before continuing.
“Courtyard in five minutes.” Huber sounded off as he walked past the tables and out the main entrance.
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Wen turns to Veronica. “You had asked me a question.”
He spoke simply.
“I am the only one of my kin. Well, I hope i am. And yes, they did experiment on me. Tiring tests of all kinds, from guinea pig to hunter.”
Having finished her meal already, Renata opted to go ahead and follow the doctor outside, sheilding her eyes from the sunlight.
Lucius excuses himself from the table, disposes of his items, and goes where the others are heading.
Silas nodded, following after the Dr. and Renata .
“I am not surprised from this group,” Veronica replied. “I could not imagine being treated like an animal like that.”
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“Well,the good news is, you don’t have to.” Wen answered.
He clicked again.
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As the party finished their meal, they were ushered along into the courtyard, standing mostly disorderly in a group as Huber spoke in hushed conversation with one of the guards. All the people the party had met were in attendance, including the American General, who stood separate from the party and closer to the doctor.
“I appreciate your expedient arrival here.” The doctor began, not bothering to turn from the guard until after he finished the sentence. "For most of you, this process is quite familiar, but for those who have just arrived I will go over the explanation again.
In the back of the group was Max, his body now fully recovered, with his hands in his pockets, angrily murmuring comebacks under his breath while kicking a rock embedded in the ground. The muscular, wrinkled fellow named Hector was awkwardly pacing in place while the woman who had accompanied him in the gym stood next to him with her arms crossed and a look of utter contempt plastered across her features.
“All of you are here to hopefully facilitate your eventual return to th rest of the world, and many military organizations are looking for aid.” The doctor continued. “Our associates in the American military frequently engage in counter-terrorist operations which occasionally end up too risky or too dangerous for men with firearms to approach directly.” The General coughed with some irritation, which Dr. Huber only acknowledged with a glance. “General Trent is here to ask for willing assistance and has been informed that if no one is willing to assist, he will have to leave with no one.” The doctor’s words seemed to be aimed at the General in particular, who took it with a shrug and a smile.
The goth girl was slowly leaning back and forth in the crowd to keep her eyes fixed on Lucius. Roswell was in a whispered argument with the guard who had escorted him earlier, having suddenly gotten the idea that he should volunteer in spite of his condition and how badly the U.S. Military wanted to monopolize his ability. Violet was rubbing her chin for a moment, and just as the General was about to speak, she stepped forwards.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
Dr. Huber slowly rubbed the bridge of his nose while the General chuckled. “Give me a moment to explain what you’re volunteering for, dear.” Violet fell back with a frown, folding her arms and waiting impatiently for Trent to finish his spiel.
“There is a former military compound in Turkmenbashi belonging to the French, which in typical fashion was surrendered during an assault by the terrorist organization MOL.” Three guards appeared to be offended. “They are holding hostages, six civilians and three U.S. soldiers. It is up to the Green Berets to secure their release, but another mission must also occur at the same time.”
“MOL took control of the base with the intent of securing a material which I unfortunately do not have clearance to describe the nature of.” He folded his hands behind his back. “Once MOL learns the hostages have been rescued, they will most likely try to either destroy or escape with this substance. If you choose to go, you will be airdropped a mile from the opposite side of the base and head in through the rear. All the major combat will be occurring at the front, so your opposition will be minimal. Before I go further into details, are there any volunteers willing to-”
Violet stepped forward again, still cross.
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Renata opted to not ask any questions, nor volunteer. Her inability to communicate effectively would simply make her a hindrance in a military operation.
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“MOL, what can you tell us about them that isn’t classified?” Silas asked as he stepped forward from the group. Silas did plan on volunteering, but a little more info beforehand wouldn’t hurt.
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Yes, yes - MOL, Turkme-whosits, all things Lucius definitely knew. And not just from glancing at the messages he requoted from Brickwall to get them more seen in the algorithms. But, you know - even though he knew - maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask for confirmation? It’s not like any of his followers would seem him say something dumb here. Not that he would ever say something dumb.
Lucius raises his right arm up.
“Where is it again? Russia’s Turkey? And what he asked,” he said in reference to Silas.
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General Trent paused for a moment before answering.
“MOL - Men of Lebanon, pronounced Mole by the American public, describes itself as a people’s movement based in Lebanon freeing the middle east from western oppression.” He pulled out a slip of paper as he spoke. “Last year MOL fought the Egyptian military just inside Egypt’s border, and some tail ends of the force have kept up repeated strikes there to allow the main body to separate and traverse through numerous countries with little attention drawn. Despite beginning very disorderly, MOL has outfitted itself with more advanced weaponry and equipment than other terrorist organizations in the past.”
“We suspect the main body of the force is not present at the compound, but a successful strike here would force them to retreat outside of Turkmenistan and back into Iran.”
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Silas nodded before stepping forward next to Violet. This is what he had signed up for. He didn’t particularly relish the idea of combat, but it was a way he could serve, give back after his life should have ended.
“I’m in.”
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