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    1. JustDoingMe 9 yrs ago

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Carla Lobo



Location: Conference Room



Carla leaned back in her chair and exhaled. The air of frustration in the room began to peak between the captain and assassin. They were prisoners of value supposedly for their skill and proven successes. This made the Alliance jerking them around that much more of a treat. "There's nothing artistic about bombing." She gave Quinn an aside glance to not mention her penchant for fighters or aerial strikes. Efficient and impersonal. She had a natural affinity for and respect of the craft. It was being on the wrong side of a few aerial raids that left the 'bombing' phrase a little sour in her mouth. "About the strawberries--" the P.A. announcement ran through the ship.

Carla bit her lip. Time on board the ship was a face on the water muddled by ripples. It dragged and lulled and slipped by the assassin. "You want to try to make it to the bridge before blast off?" She asked while half-heartedly fiddling with the secure harness attached to her chair. The straps always leave wrinkles. The crew had lovingly nicknamed her Quinn's shadow. Her exact orders were to follow Quinn's instructions and fulfill the mission. Shadowing and keeping Quinn safe were friendship bonuses. She made a game of it and once told Quinn that he was the Alliance's last honest officer and she was his loyal bodyguard. Their integrity and good work the last beacon in a bleak 'Verse. He rarely smiled but the chuckle that rose out of him was downright unsettling. Carla counts it as the funniest joke she's ever told.
Genevieve Dupoit/
Carla Lobo


Location: Port Shuttle -> Cargo Bay



Location: Conference Room -> Personal Quarters -> Conference Room



Carla was a proficient practitioner of patience. She could lurk for weeks before the sweet moment of a kill. Waiting for a ship to get ready to blast out of atmo was entirely within her power. The woman made a career off of laying still in place. Child's play. The thought occurred to her as her hands curled into tight fists. She clenched her teeth and exhaled. She didn't do anxious. Greg's impatience is contagious.

Carla stood and left the conference room. Quinn would be busy doing his Captain thing. There was time enough. She made her way to her quarters and opened her portable computer. Rapid keystrokes established a secure private connection through a third party on Persephone. She then cycled through her contact list.

All my friends are heathens or dead. Names scrolled by until she selected the contacted labeled GENE. She hit the enter key and let the tone dial out. Gloves were stripped off and she hung her jacket on a hanger while she waited to leave a message.

Genevieve heard her communications station beep shortly after Jackson left. She stood up and strolled over to see who it was from. She assumed it was a client wondering where she was and was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar name pop up. She settled herself down, letting her hair down along her shoulders. She quickly fixed her face before she accepted the call with a warm smile and a watchful eye.

"Hello Carla, long time no talk. I am glad to hear from you."

Carla had rolled up her sleeves and locked the entrance to her quarters when Genevive answered. She turned around and realized how she looked. Hair still wet from the shower, lips stained red, and open collar. She looked a mess and Gene looked like she woke up like that: pristine and serene.

Eyes met through the screen. Carla took a step, tripped, and fell off-screen. Her hands then groped in the dim light for a towel. "Yeah. Long time." She said from the deck while suppressing a groan. Carla found the face towel draped over her bed post. Her scarred arm appeared on-screen briefly before snatching the towel and retreating out of Gene's view. "I'd have reached out sooner but I figured you wanted space." She started to wipe at her face.

Gene paid particular attention to the woman's arm. Albeit brief, she noticed it, but also noticed that Carla didn't want to show it. Another topic for later down the road she thought to herself.

"How could you think that? I enjoy hearing from you. I assume, by the fact you contacted me, that you want to talk, so I am all ears. I am indisposed at the moment so I have a lot of free time right now." Gene would casually lean back in her chair and wait for the woman to begin. She already had her own thoughts about this give and take the two did, but Carla was a tough woman and a dear friend, so she would do her part.

Carla sat up and her face came into the camera's view. "It doesn't have to do with me, priy. People need space. You don't leave like you did just to see the sights." She propped her knee up and rested her arm across it while leaning against the bulkhead.

Carla sighed. She could hear the gears turning in Gene's head. "I was just getting ready for a vacation. Got a list of delays longer than my leg. When you get time you get to thinking and I just thought I'd check up. If you're eating right and not letting some Huen Dahn take advantage of you." Carla's voice had a borrowed frontier ring as natural as breathing.

Carla let the slang into her voice around Gene when alone. The neutral Alliance baritone slid off one night after drinks and the companion had caught it. Carla then laughed it off and swore her to secrecy on her hick roots. Shy, career-driven Alliance girl with a humble background became her story. The best lies had a hint of the truth.

The words Carla spoke hit Gene particularly hard. You don't leave just to see the sights. She was right and the memories came flooding back without much effort. The whole time away, the memory of the man who almost had his way with her, whatever he was planning on doing, and her surprise vacation away from it all. She looked towards her bed, to the small stunner that laid underneath it, a forever memory that she wasn't safe, that she was weak and troubled. Just part of the reason she was on the ship to begin with, because she needed to be better.

She masked whatever worry she had on her face and returned a smile back to Carla, "Your concern is heartwarming. I am fine. I apologize for that absence, but I was long overdue for my own vacation. I am doing well for myself, eating and sleeping. No worries there. What about you though? Are you doing ok?" The concern on her voice wasn't faked either, Gene felt herself worrying about this woman who she has come to know really well. She knew there was more than meets the eye to this situation, but then, both of them would have their secrets.

Carla winced. The sudden concern for her well-being made her want to stop this wave. "I'm fine. Took a break with this war going on. Probably go off the grid until this thing blows over." She sat for a minute and considered the image of the woman on the screen.

"I miss you. I'm happy you're okay." She took a moment for Gene to process and respond with her distant platonic affection. He's gone. You don't have to worry. She thought it out and searched for the words she needed to say.

Gene noted the uncomfortableness she sensed and made a point in the future to make sure she didn't do that again, and find out why. "Well I hope I hear from you more in the future. We should make plans sometime to get together when both our respective schedules line up."

"Yeah. Schedules should line up and all." Carla wanted to tell Gene she was safe. Instead she said, "Yeah, no. Schedules probably won't line up." She cast her eyes downward and let raven locks obscure her face. Quick. Like ripping off a band-aid. She mouthed the words and took a breath.

"I just wanted to tell you that...it's dangerous. Core, border, rim. It don't matter. The 'Verse is bleeding and people will walk over your body if it means a chance at getting ahead. Stop traveling and get somewhere solid. Get somewhere you feel safe. 'Cause feeling safe is the closest you'll get. I got to go." She reached out and ended the transmission. It felt better than letting her leave her again. It felt like she was back in control.

Before Gene could respond in turn, Carla cut off the transmission. Gene sat there, dumbfounded at the bluntness of the woman's words. Though she wasn't what one would call a "light in a dark room" the impact of Carla's words worried Gene. Just what did she mean?

Gene wasn't blind to what was going on in the Verse. However, she felt safe where she was. She had a ship full of people that worked together well, despite the vast differences, was that good enough?

Gene turned off the screen and stood up, letting the words sink in again. She was safe. She was secure. And even if danger reared its ugly head, she was sure she could face it with her new found crew behind her back. No more running. No more hiding.

Carla dressed herself in a fresh blouse and re-donned her jacket. She washed her face, tucked her hair behind her ear, and took a moment in front of the reflection. The woman in the black suit stepped out of her quarters and strolled back to the conference room. She found Quinn inside waiting for her. “Had to make a call.” The doors hissed shut behind her. She took her seat at the table to Quinn's right. “I had thoughts on Whitefall. You got enough info for a brief?” Information was what kept operatives alive. Thing about working for the Alliance was this compartmentalization concept they had. Need to know. All it did was cause unnecessary complications and death. Usually to cover some official's dirty business.

As Gene set outside of her shuttle, her personal comm device beeped. She knew what that meant, there was something going on. She checked it out and heard the message. She didn't know what problem, but it couldn't be good. She went to her bed and grabbed her stunner and her rapier and quickly and quietly made her way towards the cargo area.
Carla Lobo



Location: Bridge -> Conference Room



Carla was a fixture standing by the Captain nibbling on the tart fruit. Lithe fingers impaled the berries and lifted them up to her mouth. She chewed as the pilot and Captain exchanged pleasantries. The message came through notifying the crew of delays and Carla found a particularly plump berry. By the time the doctor made it to the bridge the box had been cleaned out.

The woman in the black suit licked at stained teeth with her mouth shut while the crew around her completed their important tasks. She turned on her heel and gave Quinn a glance. "I'll be in the conference room. When you get the chance." She left the bridge empty box in hand. Greg needs a target. She could feel his impatience radiating off him on the bridge with each notification of a new delay. Almost like the 'Verse didn't want them back in the black.

Carla made her way through the passageways and the crew hurried out of her way. She would have to look into the latest scuttlebutt about her once they were in deep space. The doors hissed shut behind her as she sauntered into the room and took her seat next to the Captain's.

Whitefall.

Carla closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let her body shudder for a moment. "Shāntiḥ." She opened her eyes and lifted her hand up over her face. The shadow of it stretched over her features. Her fingertips were stained ruby red. She brought her hand down, licked each finger methodically, and brought her hand up into the light. Clean.
@Morose I call for lemon cake and wine to be served. Words will be said. I will weep gently. Now I really need to finish that CS.
Carla Lobo



Location: Eavesdown Docks -> Bridge



Carla was on Whitefall. She was a kid again; young, sanguine, and on the hunt. The mule the targets were riding had erupted into flames. The girl tossed aside her sniper rifle and ran up to the wreckage with all the glee of a fledgling savant. Two smoldering -mostly intact- corpses lay in the wreckage. A trail of soot, sweat, and blood lead away from the wreck and to a young man clutching at dirt. He clasped a handful, dragged his torso up, and reached for a second lunge. Carla was on him pressing her heel into his red-stained back. He gasped and opened his mouth to scream. "Promise...Promise you'll at least--"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Eye lids fluttered open. The room was dark but for the sun outlining a golden hue around the drapes and let in filtered light. The monitor had been notifying her of a wave. The woman rose from her bed and stretched. The old wounds ached but complied and were silenced once she stood and began to dress.

A sharply dressed kid in Alliance uniform left a message informing her that all crew members were to report. A new mission. Carla went through her routine of hygiene and dress with efficient methodology. She dressed in a fresh suit, left the tie on the hanger, and opened the neck of her shirt.

She grabbed a wooden box on her end table and walked out the building onto the Eavesdown Docks. A short walk led her to the small line of crew members checking back onto the ship. A fresh-faced officer checked her in for muster on board the Retribution. Carla navigated through the passageways bustling with activity and up to the bridge. She walked up to Quinn's side, opened the lid of the box, and popped a strawberry into her mouth. Her face soured and she offered the box to Quinn with an aside glance.
I am both excited and terrified.

...I'll be working on a CS now.

@Peaceless Mhm. We've got two sociopaths and a war criminal. Now we all just need to decide on our evil accents.

And mustaches.
@Lady Amalthea Moved to CHAR

@Pundii I will be reading all of Gregory's dialogue in Amon's voice. And that has made me too excited to read his posts.

Not even the Alliance side is for the Alliance here. Surprise twist: Everyone gets Browncoats!






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