[IC] From The Ashes

[Silver Fox]

Ashiek cursed a bit as gunfire rang out, ducking in the cover as he picked up the rangers rifle, quickly peeking out of cover and expertly shooting a attacker between the eyes. "<A tactical retreat is what I'm aiming for.>" the canine growled, shooting another man in the throat, his highly skilled marksmanship quite obvious as he skillfully shot weak points dead center.

Xurga nodded a little as he looked at Ashiek. "<Keep them under fire. I'll get these two."> he said before the large tiger swooped up the ranger by the waist with his left arm, holding him to his broad chest for protection before making a quick run to Keepa and did the same but with the right arm.

Ashiek quickly ran after the tiger, jumping on his shoulders and wrapped his lean legs against Curga's neck, firing gunshots at around to either kill or make their enemies pause. Gunfire roared in the air as the large tiger roared through a pair of Apelesshar, his sheer size knocking them down. His heavy black armor sung as bullets grazed it, but the large tiger man turned a corner quickly.

Skylar had helped lead survivors nearby back to the surface, there were not many, but some is better than none. Pausing as she heard gunfire, she turned her head toward where the sound of footsteps seemed to grow louder and louder.

Xurga grunted as he quickly turned the corner from the exit to the entrance, looking toward Skylar before clicking his tongue thoughtfully before setting the two down.

[Cartwright]

The hybrid ducked instinctively upon hearing the first gunshot come their way and was attempting to push off his cover with his good shoulder to help him up, but by the time he was ever getting off the ground and glancing over the cover the massive tiger came in to remove the ranger from the situation. It was inevitable to sustain a massive amount of pain from the gunshot would when he was being taken but all that came from the anthro were a few grunts and gulps as he tried to bear the pain. He could have fought, but given the circumstances it would have been suicide to challenge a massive opposition with just a revolver no matter how good of a shot he would be if he managed to break through the injury barrier and function like a combatant. He knew it, and that's why he didn't protest being taken away while the last two members of the group battled their way towards the safety. It would soon come and the fight would soon be behind them, but the threat was still there.

Upon linking up with those who were heading to the surface, the hybrid finally found himself being set down, and once his feet touched the ground and he was free, he took a knee and slowly holstered the revolver, locking it in the chest holster with just a button and leather strap. He went straight to his bag with his only good arm, and he was shaking. He didn't know why tremors went down his spine, perhaps it was the adrenaline of combat, or maybe his injury taking a more significant toll, or even the fear of death being soo close. The ranger simply just didn't have an answer, but that didn't stop him from fishing out his medical kit and setting it on the floor, unzipping the red bag and revealing it's few contents: Three rolls of military field dressing, a stitching kit, an epinephrine vial with a packed up syringe taped to it, and even a few small military grade adrenaline shots, ones that seemed to be in individual cardboard boxes that were no smaller than a fun size candy bar.

"I-Is your friend alright?" The anthro with the ranger tags asked, his voice trembling and his only good hand fumbling around with one of the bandage rolls. He brought it to his mouth and bit on the band that held the roll together before pinching the exposed end with his lips and unrolling the compact roll. It was evident why he was using one of his few bandages, the retreat and carrying made more blood circulate and now crimson red was starting to surface on the fabric, despite being rather faint.. Who knows how much longer the man would last before passing out from blood loss. Once he got a good amount unrolled, he paused and started pondering How does one bandage himself with only one hand available?

[Hawlin]

The seconds flashed by in an instant as the ache from the impact shot through me with every movement. The rounds had gone into the ceramic padding of the armor which I hoped was enough...hollowpoint...on contact, the bullet would have fragmented on anything harder than a frozen apple. The armor may be in shambles, but I had still been shot. Bruises, fresh ones at that...yes, that had to be it. It was already going numb from adrenaline, making it hard to be certain by sensation alone as my vision fogged. I knew this day would come, and I guess I was thankful that it wasn't the real thing...still...

I don't deserve to be of Achashverosh. I was foolish and should pay the price.
I don't deserve the clan. I outweighed my value the moment mother was taken...by it.
Life? I had almost sacrificed the group for the sake of...this...
...
...I don't deserve followers, friends...protectors. I will just get them killed. My place was back in the slum I crawled out of, making nearly toxic drugs to enhance the awareness of the night watch. I looked at the gun in my hand as I was lifted from the ground, my mittens with the detached index and thumb in their grip. And now, looting the dead? Stealing from other's kills?

Icarus incarnate.
I didn't even kill a single one of them...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Nuh!" Keepa grunted against the arms of the tiger as he was set down. The bunny tore his mask off, thumbing at the straps on his armor and reaching across the chest, shakily sighing at the lack of discovery of any wounds. Still, they seemed shaken and eager, as well as...disappointed...hurt, emotionally.
"I vowed to try!" He wheezed in English, barely manage to breath from the high-caliber rounds which shattered the vest which sagged from its now worthless state. With the last buckle it fell and Keepa proceeded to pick the ammo from the pockets to distract himself; the boy seemingly on the verge of tears as they stuffed what they could into their messenger bag before going about fixing the last strap on their otherwise sophisticated gas mask. "Its...keh--chheheheh..." He started, catching themselves as they went about replacing the mask over their face which they had done a poor job to hide from the group, convinced any respect for him that they may have had was now somewhere...else. Somewhere close to where his obscured tears lined the seal of his mask, now.
The failure was shocking, in Keepa's mind, so assured at one moment and being dragged off to live another day by his idol.
Could it get anymore embarrassing?

The thought crossed his mind of legends of old Japanese Seppuku, although he was still a set of hands in possession of an automatic firearm...maybe he could redeem himself, yet.
Maybe.

Testing the seal, Keepa trudged to the hatch, his hand on the wall to signify he was ready, though head lowered.

[Kyelin]

This one had been tainted. It was obvious. The smell, was the first sign. A thick and heavy miasma of decay and virulence, thick on the tongue. Such were of poor quality, and found in the many. Long ago, there were others, a fresher and brighter scent, a scent that now drove him into a frenzy just thinking back to it. The thrill of the chase. The destruction of their light, when they knew it was over. The victory, and the spoils of the hunt. Long ago, all had this taste, All still hoped, and it gave them life, a vibrancy to their texture, malleable and tangible in the flesh. But now... Only the survivors remain. Those who knew that there was no need for hope, and that it made them less able to survive. And their bodies showed it: Lean, stringy, flavorless.

He sat on the overturned cart, hunched over it's meal. The body hung limply in his grasp, still dressed in her torn and bloodied clothing, like a sack doll found in a child's play pen. The head was completely gone; most of the thoracic cavity of the stray bandit had been scooped out by his mandibles, a thick slurry of gooey meat chunks and organs pooling in the unfortunate soul's abdomen. His mandibles and fangs clicked and chomped together, delicately slicing and cutting through the flesh bite by tiny bite, like a praying mantis with an insect. They just gave up now. They didn't care. He was actually helping them, to escape this existence... The thoughts made the meat less and less favorable. He eventually just stopped, and stared. Thinking.

Without warning, he stood up, growling and angered by what he had realized. He flung the body into the wall of the tunnel, and it splattered it's contents against the cold stone, creating a horrible portrait of various body fluids. He growled and snarled at it, shouting in a horrible voice that slated together and pierced the ears: "STOP MOCKING ME!" He roared, and smashed his fist into the wall, the aging concrete caving in with ease. They dared to drag him down to this level? He was their greatest fear. No one dared to just ignore him, to use him as a means to die honorably, in some misguided frenzied grasp at meaning. He would show them that they would fear him again. And why. He grabbed his club, blood stainedfrom the kill before, and crawled up the wall heavily, climbing into a large storm drainage pipe that had fallen to pieces long ago.

All he needed was worthy prey.

[Cartwright]

The ranger glanced over at the young Keepa as he tried to bandage himself, his eyes quickly reading the movements and physical stance of the Elviran. A slight sigh escaped him and his attention drifted from each key individual associated with helping him, his ears flicking a few times. This situation is beyond my control... I have to sort this all out. He thought, kneeling in silence for a second before tossing the bandage in the medical kit and zipping it shut, putting it away in his satchel while he stood up with a slight grunt. Once on his feet, the hybrid walked over to the demoralized anthro and placed his only good hand on the individual's shoulders. "Even a good ranger must know that there are fights he can not win." He said in a quiet, soft tone before turning to the others, his hand slipping off the boy's shoulder.

"I need your help again my friends. These survivors can fend for themselves, yes, but it would be best if you could do me this favor..." The ranger stated, his hand digging under the collar of his heavy, blood stained jacket to pull out his dog tags, holding out the necklace to the massive tiger as he continued. "There is a group of people like me not too far away. Show them this and they can take care of the survivors who follow you. I know you've done more than enough in saving my life... But this needs to be done. I have to head over to an abandoned radio station to send a message. Can you do this? I will forever be in your debt." He asked, the dog tags being offered displaying the familiar symbol of a ranger along with the name Wilson Fillmoore. ((Yaay I can finally use different titles now instead of Ranger and Hybrid XD)) It seemed rather risky breaking away because of his condition, but he had survived being alone and injured more than he wished to confess.

[Silver Fox]

Xurga watched as the frustrated younger Elviran turned away from them and moved quite slowly toward the surface before the ranger hybrid anthro spoke a few words to Keepa. The stranger turned toward him and began speaking to all of them. The massive tiger watched the stranger, round ears flicking at the words as his bright blue eyes looked at the dog tags held out to him. Although he could not understand the words, he did understand the tone of voice and expression and this seemed quite important to the stranger. Glancing toward Skylar who relayed the message in Elviran, he looked at the stranger again thoughtfully before giving a firm nod, his massive hand reaching out and taking the dog tags. Agreeing to do this strangers request.

"You do realize you kinda got hurt right? You might not get so lucky if you run into some more baddies." Ashiek said with a grin.

Skylar sighed before following Keepa and gently reached out, touching his shoulder. "<Are you hurt Keepa? Let me treat those injuries before they get worse.>" she said gently.

[Hawlin]

Keepa stood numbly to the pats and most of the words until the Stranger approached him. Hearing what the soldier had to say, the boy couldn't help but blurt "You're leaving, already?"
Although Keepa bit back his words as they continued after brandishing their tags, they still would have liked to have as many people as possible on his side. For the offensive...for the-

Ashiek's hand to hold him back as they passed by struck the point home...Keepa had almost expected Ashiek to tussle his hair, which would have been responded to with a well-placed bite to the hand. Still, Keepa trudged a step off, bracing themselves by the hatch. "<Its...its really just bruises. The vest did well. Please don't let me worry you...>" Keepa sighed response to Skylar

[Cartwright]

A chuckle and a nod came from Wilson, the pain being rather evident in the tone of his strained voice while be spoke. "It comes with the job description of a ranger. Don't worry about me... This isn't the first injury I've ever sustained." He said, glancing between the array of eyes before turning away from the tiger and glancing down the desolate street full of broken down cars and debris. "I'll meet you with the rangers shortly after you arrive if everything goes according to plan. I don't mean to say wait for me or anything. If you all have an issue during your travels there should be an otter fellow willing to help out. Last I recall he was patrolling the Smithsonian American Art Museum." While he was speaking the ranger started down direction he faced, a hanging sign showing the street they walked onj to be G STR NW. He only paused to glance over his shoulder, his right hand going up to give the group a wave.

"See you all at Trinity Church. You can take the street I am on or find a safer route there. I hope we get to meet again on better conditions."