Sampson Dubois
Location: Talon HQ, Los Angeles. Kitchen area
Interacting with:
Peacere@Kaithas,
Sombra@MiddleEarthRoze,
Ceri@Caits, whoever happens to come around.
Sampson watched Sombra leave, noticing as she paused for a moment and muttered to herself. Curious. Almost as curious as the presence of a desk and a wastebin in the middle of this hallway, but that was a thought for later. Talon’s sense of interior design was the least of his concerns.
The hacker was… troublesome. She was good, he knew that much, but the way she grinned like she knew everything he didn’t was disconcerting. As was Ceriwedyn. Really, all of them except for the omnic, and he was off-putting in his own way. Part of him longed for the days of putting lead through circuits in the cold Siberian tundra, but then he remembered that this entailed living in the cold Siberian tundra and decided to count his blessings.
He felt a small buzz come from a device in his pocket. The Cicada was chirping again. This wasn’t the actual name of the phone, but God if it didn’t sound like one. Given to him by Vishkar after taking care of a particularly troublesome rabble rouser in Brazil, he swiftly had the device jailbroken and connected to the various illicit Vishkar comm sats the company used for its less legitimate business. The end result was what amounted to a perfect comm link to his contacts, untraceable and compact. Glancing at the screen, it looked like he had a notification on a firefight rapidly developing in Carson City. Pulse fire, snipers in the alleys, and Jesse McCree in the middle of it all. Not too unusual, he’d seen bounty hunters waste more lead on each other than their quarry before. Still, this was some pretty serious ordinance.
Regardless, from the direction the cowboy was traveling, it looked like he would be near L.A. soon. The situation was dangerous, but Sampson trusted him not to get caught, stuffed, or shot quite yet. The mercenary was on contract right now, but that could be a lovely team building exercise. Besides, when he gave his soldiers the opportunity to make a few mil, he had the feeling they may appreciate it.
Shaking himself from his reverie, Sampson looked back to Peacere, the only one still standing with him. The robot maintained the neutral expression only an omnic could, leaving his thoughts an enigma. Oddly enough, Sampson thought he liked him best so far. He was sane.
“Colorful bunch. I’m gonna go eat, but you’re welcome to join. I’ve got a few ideas that I feel like you’d appreciate, though we’re really gonna need Miss Sombra for most of ‘em. I’ll send her a memo.” He nudged the cold metal with his elbow as he winked, setting off after Ceriwedyn.
”Ceri, yes. And you are?”Walking with a speedy step to maintain pace with the skipping teen, Sampson rattled off his introductions.
“Sampson Dubois, callsign: Sellsword. Mercenary, currently working as C.O. of Kestrel squad, leading Fireteam Veridian. Acquisitions, infiltrations, holding objectives, etc. And,” He added, his hand resting on the drooling mutt beside him.
“Currently recruiting other special agents.”“I’ve read your file, and I’m interested. Security officer, means you must not get off-base too often. I think that’s a waste. If you’re interested, I’ve got a potential op coming up. Live fire, exciting, maybe even could make some money off of-”Catching up to the young woman, he was immediately stunned by the state of the kitchen, namely that it was a
kitchen. Full facilities, cookware, the whole shebang. Small, obviously intended for officers. Jimmy panted at his side, drooling slightly from his crooked jaws. He would have to clean that up later.
He looked to the girl, splitting a grin.
“Pardon. ‘S been some time since we’ve eaten. Not what I was expectin’ as a mess, but I reckon it’ll do.” Opening the fridge, he tried his best to hide that his mouth was watering. Jimmy continued to drool.