(2015-09-28) Beavers and Glowy Things
Beavers and Glowy Things
Summary: An Opossum and a beaver are discovered for dinner. There's also an glowy looking alien thing and heaps of honey.
Date: 9.28.2015
Related: None

After their earlier conversation, Dixie snagged Terry for a scavenging/scouting run. She's not the best, but she's been hanging around camp far too much lately. She's now has her pack with her, as well as her canteen and sidearm. As usual, she has her large rifle with her. It's cool out, and it's fall, which might mean warmer clothing is a good thing.

Terry 's wearing a pair of quality "trailblazer" boots, faded jeans, a 'Scorpions' t-shirt, his trusty 'go bag' ruck-sack (looks big enough to carry a tent, at least), and a camouflage handkerchief folded into a skullcap/bandana. He's packing as well, carrying his trusty Barrett M82A1 strapped to the bag, and a knife in his left boot. "This is gonna be good.. I can feel it." He says, going for optimism over pessimism.

"Let's just hope we don't have any contacts," Dixie offers to Terry, as she glances towards him and the duo head into the abandoned street. "Sorry about pulling you away from fishing, but after we had a couple of people grabbed, it's good to have back up in case things go south. I might be good, but even I can make mistake or make poor choices." She looks like she's listening intently for something. "So, which house do you think is going to be a good one to poke around?"

"How about we check the old Emerson Estates?" Terry offers, jerking a thumb in that direction. "Assuming they haven't been picked clean by now." Which they may very well have been, given how long it's been since he's been there.

Dixie glances in that direction and nods. "Ain't got nothing to lose if we do," she offers. "Even if they've been picked clean, ain't meaning somethings not been dropped or left behind." She keeps her hands resting on the scope of her rifle. She starts to mosey on towards the estates, keeping an eye on her surroundings.

Terry starts heading that way himself. "So.. tell me about yourself. You see any action," Beat. "Corporal?" He doesn't recall her telling him. "I didn't see all that much, myself. Just a few hops here and there, plugging holes.. and dealing with some pencil-pushing know-nothing rubberneck who apparently had it in for me.." He rolls his eyes, and sighs, audibly.
Terry pages: Beirut Battalion from October '96 to December '97, Teufel Hunden from December '97 to August '98, and then finished out with the Marine Security Guard Battalion in February '07. Missed the 'meat' of Silver Wake, helped out with the evac in Congo-Gabon, Sierra Leone and Cambodia; chipped in for a bit with Operation Desert Fox; coordinated evacs for Shepherd Venture, and medevacs for Kenya and Tanzania. The 'oops' post was to a warship headed for Afghanistan, and then Serbiaanother paperwork cockupas part of Infinite Reach, and Allied Force, respectively..

"Only left Alabama for a promotion up here," Dixie admits to Terry. "Ain't ever left the US, not even to Canada. Wouldn't see action with a traditional posting." She takes a deep breath. "Only action I've had after my unit was activated when the alien craft turned up." She doesn't appear all that eager to talk about it. "Been shot at though, hurt a few people. The camp I was part of, well, I ended up being moved to a team of sharpshooters." Her faint smile has died off, as she keeps on walking.

"'bama, eh? I'm a Greenfield boy, myself. After I got out of the service, I moved to Boston, joined up with the local boys in blue. They were just /falling all over me/, wanting me to join them.. I said 'sure'. Now, you're probably wondering why I went from being a jarhead to a LEO.. I caught the 'protect and serve' bug hard when I joined the Corps, and I've still got it. I figured they'd really love me if I had a BCJ degree, so I started working on it while I was overseas." Terry responds, raising an eyebrow as he catches the "don't ask" vibe. "Only got as far as the AACJ, though, before my contract timed out. Once I got stateside, they tempted me with the whole 'You want a commission? Bam, here you go' deal, but.. nah. Time to move on.. so, Boston P.D. Didn't even get two years in before they kicked me up to Sergeant, and had me playing grab-ass with an M-24. I miss that gun.."

"Thought I was going to be a lifer myself," Dixie admits to Terry. "Set myself up here, work in a nice armoury. Had no plans of joining the cops, or what would happen when I got out." She takes a deep breath. "My pa used to handle the weapons for the local sheriff back home. Dropped out of highschool to study under him." She then laughs. "That and I kind of blew off my brother's pinky, which meant I weren't allowed out of my father's sight. Still like chemistry though."

Terry nods. "Yeah. I'm more into making things go boom, whether by long-range lead injection, or by assistive detonation. Three-week rotation with bomb squad, EOD. I used to do a ton of 'hillbilly fishing' back in the day." He makes a show of tossing imaginary dynamite sticks into an imaginary pond. "Ahh.. fun times!"

Dixie falls silent again, craning her head as she listens to something in the distance. She purses her lips, and takes a few moments to look around. "I think that was a deer," she comments to the noise she heard. "So any hobbies that ain't got to do with weapons or playing with explosives?" she then asks, as she continues forward again. "Or fishing."

"I play the piano, I cook, I play guitar, and I sometimes fly planes… though, only in simulation. Guitar, cooking, and piano I can do for real, though." Terry responds. "..Deer?" He stops, and glances around.

Dixie glances towards Terry, and she offers a nod of her head. "I think I hear one behind that house," she offers in a soft voice, as she takes a knee and points in that direction. "I think it's a deer. But I know it's not a garden gnome." She takes a deep breath and tilts her head a little to the side. "Well, it looks like I'll be competing with you for the sugar supply."

Terry finds a good spot, unstraps his rifle, deploys the bipod, and loads a round. He takes a knee as well, and waits for a shot. "Good luck."

Well, it wasn't a deer, rather a rather loud opossum. Who may or may not have been in a trash can when Dixie heard it. She starts to creep around the side of the house, keeping low and moving slow. She leaves her rifle hanging in front of her, as she moves to draw her pistol. She slips around the side, and there's the sound of a single shot, then a squeal of an animal that dies off shortly after. She makes her way back around the building, offering a whistle. Her catch? A single opossum. "No deer, just possum," she offers with a laugh.

Nor is a deer Terry's quarry, just a beaver. He figures 'eh, what the hell' and zeroes in on the poor thing. A muted *puff* heralds the end of Mr. Beaver's existence. The animal doesn't even get a chance to squeal. Terry secures his weapon, and heads off to secure his prey. "Beaver-tail stew is delicious." He says, holding up his trophy. "…Possum and 'taters, too.."

"I ain't the type to eat scavengers, but food is food these days," Dixie offers. "Ain't a bad sized one you got there." She takes a few moments to secure the dead oppossum to her belt. "They reckon that you can get something like vanilla from a beaver. Something about its glands."

Terry smirks. "Oh really?" He ponders. "I think I heard that, once.. turned out to be grossly misreported." Beat. "That 'vanilla' from its glands is called 'castoreum'." He thinks back, and then nods. "Castoreum is a substance with a strong, penetrating odor which beavers secrete from 'castor sacs' located between the pelvis and the base of the tail, and spray when scent-marking their territory. Due to the beaver's typical diet of leaves and bark, castoreum doesn't "stink" as other similar animal secretions do, but rather has a musky, vanilla scent. Because of its scent properties castoreum has long been employed in the perfume-making industry, and processed forms of castoreum have also been used as food additives, in the latter case primarily as enhancers of vanilla, strawberry and raspberry flavorings found in products such as iced tea, ice cream, gelatin, candy, fruit-flavored drinks, and yogurt." And just like that, he blinks twice, and shakes his head. "…Whoa."

"Ain't you a smarty pants, Professor," Dixie comments as she listens to Terry. "Well, I ain't going to sniff its behind to find out if its true or not. That is all on you. Maybe you could make some perfume?" She regards the estate in the distance. "Or you can turn it into food. Let me know when you're cooking, because I ain't eating beaver anus." She seems dead serious about that.

Terry shakes his head. "I don't do perfume. Cologne, maybe, but not perfume. I'll leave the foo-foo-girly-stuff to you." He fires off a playful salute, and returns to his scope, checking around for more targets.

"I actually ain't all that big on girly stuff," Dixie offers to Terry. "Sometimes." She purses her lips. "I wouldn't even think of wearing perfume these days. Too dangerous." She continues to keep her eyes open as well, as she regards one of the houses. "I reckon we should do a quick search, now we done got dinner and breakfast." With that said, she starts to approach the house, carefully peeking through one of the windows.

Terry nods. "Yeah, let's do that.." He stashes his rifle, and heads up to peek in another window. "Looks clear from here." He then walks right up to the door, and stomps on the handle once.. twice.. and the door buckles shortly thereafter. He fishes a knife from his boot, and proceeds into the house.

Dixie slips into the house after Terry. "You should have just tried to see if it was locked first," she offers. "One time I came out, we had to lock the door to buy time to get upstairs to lay an ambush. "Kicking it it, kind of advertises our position, but we have both fired, so if anyone is around, they know that there's people around." She draws her pistol as she carefully starts to sweep the house.

"Eh.. Reflex. I see a closed door, I kick it in. Gotta make an entrance." Terry responds, firing off a two-finger salute. "… But yeah, really, you're right. I will check the door next time.." Beat. "..and then kick it in." He begins sweeping the area as well, pulling open drawers and upending throw-rugs with his feet. There could be trap-doors hiding loot-filled basements!

While Terry is loud, Dixie is rather quiet. If she pulls out a drawer, she neatly piles it to oneside. "Just passing on my own tips. Information is the key to survival and I'm still alive after two run ins with the military imposters," she offers with a smile. "If they don't hear or see you, then they don't know you're around. Then you can easily avoid combat or dictate how the situation plays out. Something my Sarge taught me."

Terry actually isn't *that* loud. He knows how to be tactically fast, i.e. slow is smooth, smooth is fast. He's just good at analyzing things, so it *looks* like he's rushing.. again, he's not generating that much noise. Probably about as much noise as a rat scurrying across the floor.

Dixie continues to hunt around, finding beads abandoned in the back of one of the drawers. "Having much luck?" she calls out, before she slips the beads into her pack. However something under a nearby table catches her attention, and she moves over towards it with her head tilted to oneside.

"Toilet seat. Nice.. could play a game of oversize horse-shoes.." Terry jokes, poking the thing with a foot. "What'cha say? Keep or leave?" He moves on in the meantime, swiping a box of tea-bags, a Beginners' Guide to Lingua Italiana, and a half-full bottle of aspirin. "…Come to papa," he says as he finds the latter. And then the glowy thingamajig. "What the hell is that?" He heads over as well, tucking his findings into his pack.

Dixie doesn't answer about the toilet set, as she stares at the glowy thing. She also doesn't touch it, just in case it's something nasty, like a bomb. "I ain't got any idea what it is," she comments. "Ain't ever seen anything like it." She slowly shakes her head and her brow furrows, as she leans down a little closer. "You reckon it's from earth or what?"

Terry shakes his head. "I'm not getting a 'DARPA' vibe. … Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. Genius inventors of the military." He shrugs, and then pokes at it with a boot, waits a few seconds, and then ducks down to scoop it up, after checking it for wires. "..Maybe somebody back at camp will know what it is."

Dixie makes a face when Terry picks it, no doubt waiting to be engulfed in an explosion, though she gives a sigh of relief when nothing happens. "I think we should get it back straight away," she comments. "Hopefully it ain't a tracking device. I call dibs if it ain't going to cause the end of the world."

"You and your superior dib-calling!" Terry responds, sotto voce, rolling his eyes. He gently tosses the object over to Dixie. "Have fun with it, Corporal. You earned it." He goes back to searching.

Dixie offers a laugh, as she tucks it into her pack. "Well, if it does cause the end of the world, then it's totally yours." She smiles brightly before regarding the toilet seat that Terry found. "You know, you should keep that. Maybe there are plans for outhouses? It'd be handy. Or you could start a new fashion trend."

Briefly scurrying off for a bit, the silence is suddenly cut by "…Oh, hey hey HEY!" from Terry, followed by a low whistle. "Look at this.." He returns with a crate of jars filled with honey, and a vinyl record. "We can definitely use the honey. Doesn't spoil, either, so yay there.."

Dixie has turned to keeping a looking out while Terry has taken one more look around the house. She does look surprised by his find. "Great find there!" she offers. "Better than the beads I got. I bet Hippy could use them, though." She moves towards the front door. "So, do you want to head straight back? It'd be a real shame if we got interrupted on the way back."

Terry nods. "I'll watch your six, Corporal." And what a great-looking six it is. Yes, sir. "Lead the way." He gestures indicatively, securing his loot.

Dixie remains unaware what is thought in Terry's head, as she makes her way out of the front door. Her pistol is returned to her holster, and she holds her rifle in both hands as she starts to lead the way back to camp. She's cautious as she moves, keeping a close eye and an open hear on their surroundings. "Won't take long to get back," she offers.

Terry backs out after Dixie, sweeping the area as he goes. On the way back, he picks up his rifle, sheathes his knife, and secures his rifle. "You up for some PT, later?" He offers.

"PT isn't a bad plan," Dixie offers to Terry. "Keep fit, stay in the fight. Drag some of the security detail into it, and I think we'll be off to a good start. Walking around all day isn't going to help them when it comes to running or if things get up close and personal." She then falls into silence as they walk, and she continues to observe the surrounding area.

Scavenging Rolls

1 Toilet Seat
1 Tea bags
1 Book-Fiction-Italian Language
1 Bottle of Aspirin (5 left)
1 Alien Looking Glowy Thing
1 Box of assorted beads
4 Jars of Honey / Molasses
1 Vinyl Record

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