Gordon Freeman

"Good. So that's what those are. I found one when I got my armor but I didn't know what it was."

Annabelle looks at her vial curiously, "Do you need this one and do you swallow or inject these things?"

She heard the bug juice comment. She's employing the age old human defense mechanism of 'not thinking about it'.

She turns to Ryan when he comes over, "How about you? Any injuries?" Michael may be avoiding him for some reason, but she doesn't know anything about him. Besides, he's on the same team and therefore deserving of civility and concern.

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"I'm all right," says Dora. "Swallow, definitely. It's only the ones in actual medkits that're pure enough to inject."

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"I'll keep that in mind," he says to Dora. Who knows? He may need medical attention before the day is out.

"I'm fine, thank you," Ryan answers politely. For his part, he doesn't know she's affliated with Michael, and even if he did, well. She hasn't threatened violence against him. He taps the fanny pack. "This doesn't let anything through, fortunately."

He does not switch it off. There's no guarantee of safety, here.

"Are we going to keep moving, or do we want to hold position here?"

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Annabelle grins when Dora tells her she's all right and stores the vial somewhere in case she needs it later.

"I'll remember that. It's just as well, finding an injection site in a hurry with this armor on is likely to be tricky."

Annabelle nods when Ryan responds and eyes the fanny pack curiously. "Sounds useful."

Annabelle liberates a machine gun and some ammo from another Combine corpse, just in case.

"What can we expect in the next wave?, she asks Dora. "Those strider things?"

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X, covered in soot and blood, returns from the scene of the wreck, such as it was.

"They will expect you to create an ambush?"

It seems like a relevant question. To her.

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"Not yet, I don't think," says Dora to Annabelle. "Elites, maybe. And more scanners, so make as much of a mess as you can, okay? Let 'em get off a picture or two before you take 'em down, all of you. They'll cue the Citadel in to where they've got to send the next reinforcements."

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Annabelle nods. "The Elites are the ones that carry sniper rifles, aren't they? I'll make sure to let the scanners take some pictures before I shoot."

Annabelle looks briefly concerned at X's appearance, but figures that from the way she's moving most of the blood must belong to other people.

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X nods just a little.

"Okay."

Beat.

"I will remember."

One thing she can do very well is make a mess. In case no one figured that out yet.

She also notices Annabell's look.

"I am okay. I heal."

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Annabelle smiles a little at X's answering her unspoken question. "It's a good thing I picked up that body armor," she says wryly. "I seem to be the least bullet-resistant member of our party."

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Snipers plus more of the same. Ryan nods.

"I'd've done the same were our positions reversed," says the werewolf keeping an eye on their surroundings. He is, after all, wearing Kevlar underneath his shield. "I received the shield generator as part of the kit for another mission. Talk to Ray Stantz when we get back; he'll probably be willing to make you one."

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"Pulse rifles," Dora corrects. "Capture the rifles if you can, we can always use more top-quality guns like that. And don't go near the orbs. Those disintegrate people."

The hum of engines in the sky and the faint but real smell of something living but not quite right comes on the wind. "Incoming dropships!" calls one of the rebels.

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X is already moving, attention directed toward the sound.

And the smell.

She does not jockey for position, but a frame of reference is important.

She needs to see what is coming. And where it is going. Then she will know how best to strike.

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Ryan tilts his head at the sound, stepping away from the small collection of people that's gathered. Smaller targets are better.

"How many on a dropship?" he calls back, switching out an old clip for one he knows is full.

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Annabelle nods at Ryan's answer. "Thank you, I'll ask him when we get back." As AEon's aiming system Annabelle generally ended up with the more offensively oriented of Dixon's inventions, but she's not going to turn down something that reduces bullet holes. She hates convalescing.

To Dora she says somewhat sheepishly, "Sorry, pulse rifles. And I will stay away from the orbs."

Weird devices that disintegrate people, vastly outnumbered and fighting the good fight, it's just like home!

There is a certain amount of glee in Annabelle's scent at the mention of pulse rifles. ~~Some people collect snow globes, Annabelle collects weapons.~~

As the dropships move in Annabelle moves to a defensible position and prepares to open fire.

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"Six to eight," Dora answers, skittering sideways to the partial shelter offered by a chunk of fallen masonry. "That's what they said at Lighthouse Point, anyway."

The first of the dropships- there are two- passes overhead and begins to lower itself for a landing. If one were to cross some sort of crab with a massive flying robot, engines glowing blue in the ends of the larger legs, it might look like that. Its smaller legs are clutching a dull black metallic container, which it sets down before landing entirely. The other hovers, awaiting its turn.

As the door opens on the container a pair of scanners drop from the hovering crab-thing's underside, sweeping down the street and beeping furiously.

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X notes the scanners' path with a corner of her brain; the majority of her attention is fixed on what's coming out of the container.

And, of course, on what the second dropship is up to.

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Annabelle notes the number mentioned and takes aim with the machine-gun. Any Combine behind the opening doors is just asking for a bullet between the eyes. The scanners should have plenty of interesting photo ops in the next few minutes.

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'Eyes' may be something of a misnomer. The white-armored figures that appear as the doors slide open only have the one ocular each. It doesn't seem to slow them down, though; the first one's got his rifle at the ready as soon as the door starts to move down...

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In the eye it is, then. Time to see just how fast they are compared to a normal human.

Unless elite number one is very good at dodging he's going to get a bullet in the ocular as soon as Annabelle can get a clear shot...

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He's good, but not good enough. The rebels don't usually have anything like that degree of accuracy, a fact which made him careless.

The instant the bullet strikes the other Elites are on alert. The heavy thudding of pulse rifle energy fire rips through the air even as the doors finish opening; the Elites believe that the best defense is a good offense. Scanners swoop down to note the number and location of the rebels as Dora and her forces begin shooting back.

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X, meanwhile, has slipped away from the main group and attempted to approach the drop-boxes from a different angle.

She's dropped from a helicopter before--surely dropping from a ledge on the side of a building shouldn't be much different.

And maybe the Elites aren't expecting an attack from above.

Maybe.

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OOC: I'll be away from the computer between noon and about 4:30 central time FYI.

The best defense being a good offense is Annabelle's strategy as well. This was occasionally a point of friction with her teammates.

Annabelle keeps aiming for the red oculars while dodging pulse rifle fire. She's not certain that the body armor would stop that kind of fire, after all.

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Ryan believes more in whatever works. If headshots take them out faster than anything to the torso, so be it. And even if it just blinds them, that's still a plus.

He's being a bit more careful about being hit, though, mostly because he's fairly certain that pulse fire is not made of atoms and therefore is not stopped by his shield.

But at least it's not a laser.

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md_donighal

Michael decides he's been their ace in the hole long enough. He raises his right hand, and a ball of fire appears above the palm. A moment later, that ball homes in on an Elite's optic like a ring tossed by a carnival champion. By the time the first fireball launches, he's already forming another over his left hand, which will seek another target.

Any energy bolt that hits him will be absorbed into the glowing aura that surrounds him, and that'll be another bit of energy he doesn't himself have to provide for the returning of, as it were, fire.

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