milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is a Colonel at the Bar. Quaritch actually looks slightly overdressed compared to his usual fatigues (or just plain undershirt if he's working out), but what passes for an RDA dress uniform is being worn because he had to give a very tiring briefing to the Home Office on Luna for both the RDA brass and some select reporters.

If anything, he looks more exhausted than he would after a week in the field...something about dealing with bureaucrats and the press just seems to want to drain the life from the Colonel, so he's indulging in a few drinks while he has some "pause time" in the Bar.

If the look on his face is any indication, he won't be returning to Hell's Gate until morning.

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Will's had a long day and the Bar surprises him when he was hoping to sleep.

He sits down and sighs before saying, "Lady Bar, would ye get me somethin' cold and strong to drink an somethin' with chocolate."

A beer appears in front of him and a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

Quaritch looks over at Will when the latter sits down and places his order.

"You have a long day, too?"

From the way it sounds, Will probably did...and since misery loves company (and a good drink to boot)...

"Aye, na one died but folks are bleedin' an 'eat's makin' it feel like somethin's goin' to 'appen. What about ye?"

He takes a long swig of his beer, he hates the moments when it feels like things will get worse but its not clear how yet.

Will's language sticks out like a swore thumb, as does his decidedly-not-modern clothing.

"Oh, just dealing with a bunch of management jerks who can't make up their mind and want me to tell them in person what I've been telling them for years."

Beat. "I don't think we've met. Col. Miles Quaritch, from RDA Security." The Colonel extends a handshake. "And you are?"

"They sound like the sort who dinna understand what ye're dealin' with,"

Will offers his hand says, "Will Scarlett, I serve Robin o'Locksley in Nottingham, England durin' the reign o'King Richard."

Quaritch looks...well, a little surprised. Granted, it's Milliways and he should be used to this, but the Colonel still looks twice.

"That sounds like it's...about what? Five hundred or a thousand years before my time?"

Do forgive him; he's American. Also, for some reason, he's also having trouble placing that 'Robin o'Locksley' name...though it sounds vaguely familiar, he can't quite place it.

"'rhaps, when's yer time?"

Will smiles at the surprise, its a tired smile but there, he's proud of who he serves, "Robin's also known as Robin 'ood."

"Middle of the 22nd Century."

Ok, there's a name I recognize...

"Robin Hood? The rob from the rich to give to the poor guy?"

"Aye, that's 'im. Most folks 'ere seem to know tales o''im."

Quaritch grins at the recognition. "So, since you know him, which ones are actually true?"

You can rest assured that he's seen enough stories morph when retold several times (or morph over one too many beers) that he knows that centuries-old tales might only bear a passing resemblance to what actually happened. Then again, the original stories are often better...if just because they end up ringing true in a recognizable way that the overblown retellings don't.

"Depends which tales ye know. Seems they're always slightly different an I dinna know all o''em,"

Allan was creating lots of stories in their time and then they just kept growing, Will hasn't paid that much attention to them other than pride they still remain.

"Mostly the Hollywood ones. Uh, ones from movies..."

Moving pictures? Quaritch isn't sure how far he's going to have to break this one down...he's heard reports of Dr. Augustine and her people trying to explain spaceflight to the Na'vi and senses that he might be in for a similar experience.

"Oh aye, I've seen some o''em, get a lot o'things wrong. I've been comin' to Milliways for nigh on four or five years now."

Quaritch doesn't seem at all surprised by that. The length of time Will's been coming to Milliways does, however, get a look.

"That long? How long has this place...been around?"

"Lot o'years, know its been 'ere longer than I've been comin' 'ere."

There's a silent nod at that tidbit as Quaritch gives some thought to the whys and wherefores of why he was brought here now (not to mention how many times over his career he wouldn't have minded the hot shower and bed available to him here).

"So, since we're here, talking...why don't you tell me one of your stories the right way, and I'll tell you one of mine the right way as well."

Both will, needless to say, involve all of the embellishment a few beers offer up.

'Aye, sounds fair 'nough. I'll tell ye o'when I first met Robin. Me parents own a stall in the market o'Nottingham but we've always been one late tax from naught. I started stealin' to aid us 'specially after me siblin's all died, 'ad to do somethin'. Durin' the Fair, I got the purse off a rich man an found meself caught. Turns out this man was Robin's uncle, Robin looked at me an claimed I was 'is servant. Couldna understand why 'e did it but I've been 'is man since then."

Quaritch listens to the story and does crack a smile at how Will met Robin. "So that's how you met him."

And then it's his turn.

"My first day on Pandora, no sooner than I got off the shuttle I went out on a patrol around Hell's Gate. Well, we got a little ways into the jungle and I saw something move in the corner of my eye. As soon as I turned...BAM! A viperwolf landed on me."

The 'BAM' is accompanied by an appropriate clap of his hands.

"It knocked me off my feet and we fell to the ground. I had to wrestle the damn thing off of me so my patrol could safely shoot it. Well, I got it off and they did, but not before it left these as a little reminder of how rough Pandora can be."

'These' are, of course, the Colonel's oh-so-familiar scars.

"What's the tale that gets told about ye now? An 'ow big's a viperwolf?"

Will smirks as he looks at the scars.

"It was about two meters long...about as long as I am tall...it's got six legs and a nasty swipe." Beat. "I think the time I knocked out a thanator is the one that gets told, but I was in my AMP...so I'm not sure if that counts since the machine did most of the work."

"AMP yer armor?"

It has the sound of it.

"Yeah...it's a mobile suit. Packs a nice punch against anything you can come up with, holds a lot of ammo...let's just say it's real nice to have in a fight."

"Oh aye, I've seen those in some worlds. Useful things to 'ave."

Quaritch grins. "You have no idea." Beat. "Bar, another round of drinks..."

Yep, it's going to be a fun night for the two of them.

Ellen has seen that kind of look a few times in the Citadel; Elder Lyons is a man with more responsibilities than anyone ought to have. She knows better than to intrude on it. Besides, she's got to...

....

.... she doesn't really want to, after everything that's happened, but she's got to go over the Tesla cannon in minute detail and make sure everything is cleaned and in good working order. Or at least as good working order as she can manage. She'd mumbled a promise to bring it to the Scribes for a tune-up after she got done taking care of it, after all, which is why she's not going to get up from her nearby table just yet. She'll just keep working on the good-sized device at her nearby table.

Dogmeat might mosey over to have a look around the Colonel's seating area, but he's Dogmeat and he does that.

Dogmeat does, in fact, get Quaritch's attention when he mosies over to the Colonel's seating area...and somehow, Quaritch follows the dog's likely path of approach over to the cannon.

Blink.

Blink.

And the good Colonel is now walking over to Ellen's table to get a good look at her hardware.

...that is, the cannon, of course.

Obviously. She's not wearing her armor at the moment.

... what.

Anyway, it's almost as long as she is tall, and it's powered down at the moment. The electron charge packs are all on a chair on the other side of the table, where it's much safer.

She'll look up eventually, and wave a little. "I'm sorry," she says, "I didn't see you there, sir..."

"'s alright." Pause. "Mind if I ask what this is?"

Other than impressive, which is obvious.

"I've never seen anything quite like it."

"It's a Tesla cannon," Ellen says. "An- an experimental weapon, from home. The Scribes finished building it a while ago. It's for anti-aircraft duty."

She indicates the long, clear windows into the main chamber.

"It fires a heavy-duty electrical charge. Most- most aircraft and vehicles and- and robotic targets, actually- most of them explode with a single good hit."

Impressive.

Ellen and the cannon get a quick glance.

"So, do you mount it on something?" As big as the cannon is relative to Ellen, he'd expect that it would have some sort of mounting...either that, or the recoil would seem to send you through the wall.

"My right shoulder," Ellen says. "It's an energy weapon, not a projectile weapon. There's no kick when you fire it, just a discharge." She ruefully rubs at her shoulder as she admits, "It's heavy, though. I don't- I don't like to use it if I'm not in power armor."

Of course she wears power armor. Everything in the Wasteland wants to kill her, and that's before you add in the humans.

"Power armor? Is that anything like our AMP suits?"

He's guessing it wasn't what she was wearing last time...but then again, he was nine feet tall and blue at the time, so you never know.

"I... maybe?" Ellen says. "I don't know. It was developed before the Great War. My suit was a prototype with a basic artificial intelligence built in. Most people just have ordinary T-45d suits, in the Brotherhood. Full body protection, airtight except for the suit filters, and enough servos to make it feel like you're only carrying about forty pounds of extra weight, instead of a full suit of cerasteel and high tensile polymers."

"My suit's upstairs, but it takes a while to put on."

That gets a shake of Quaritch's head. No, he definitely didn't get a look at that. With that said, he knows how long it can take to get a full suit of body armor on...you climb into an AMP, rather than "putting it on", but he can sympathize with the former.

"I don't think so...and I'm not gonna ask you to put it on just for me. If you do any practice with it out back, though, I wouldn't mind getting a look. It sounds like an impressive piece of work."

And in the good way, too.

"It really is," Ellen says. "I'll turn on the voice circuits when I go out next. It's... got a distant early warning system and sometimes it gets kind of loud."

"Kind of?" For some reason, Quaritch suspects understatement here...but that's probably because he's heard it from plenty of his men before. Of course he's smiling about the line.

"What's the range on this?" His attention is back on the nice anti-air cannon in front of him.

"Well, it doesn't shout too much if it's just a mole rat... most of the time."

She looks back at the Tesla cannon. "Oh. Um. The- the Scribes don't have an exact number, but... it took out a Vertibird five hundred feet up with one hit."

Reasonably respectable for a prototype shoulder-mounted weapon.

Yes, that definitely gets an approving nod. Impressive indeed.

"So, who is it warning if it's so loud? You? Or is it trying to warn...whatever's attacking you off?"

"Me," Ellen says. "The suit talks to the wearer. Anybody else who hears is just a bonus. I'm guessing that the- the final version would've had volume control. This one was just designed to show off to the War Department as an example of what they could get."

Which, for good or ill, makes sense. After all, the Colonel has never dealt with show-off hardware. No, never!

"Now, I know you said it feels like it only weights forty pounds, but how much does it weigh?"

Ellen thinks for a bit, then cites a number*. "It's a little clumsy sometimes, but once you get used to it and compensating for that, it's really not so bad," she adds.

*We wish we had an actual number to give. We refuse to accept that a full suit of riveted steel plates, various polymers, servomotors increasing the wearer's strength while cramping their agility, microfusion power plant, and a layer of silver plating for dispersing energy weapon fire could possibly weigh only forty-five pounds, which is the only number given in the game.

Quaritch nods. "An AMP suit is clumsy if you're not used to how it works, too. Heck, I've seen a few green guys stumble in basic body armor."

*We'll sign off on that as well in light of what a simple set of torso-covering plate armor weighs IRL.

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