(2016-02-21) Hunters, Horses, and Humans
Hunters, Horses, and Humans
Summary: Terry investigates a noise, and meets someone new.
Date: 02.11.2016
Related: None
Players:
terry..monica..

It's evening when a sharp /boom/ echos over the lake, sounding a little like gunfire, or perhaps a really powerful firecracker. When Terry arrives at the reservoir, there is a horse quietly munching grass. It looks freshly curried and well cared for. Nearby is a cart, obviously hand-made, a mixture of old car parts and welded steel tubing with a truck topper on top of it. On the other side of the camper there's the smell of a small fire and the sound of something, or someone, moving."

Terry takes up a position near a tree, in some tall grass. He's decked out in a pair of Danner Radical Hikers, a worn pair of jeans, black shirt, and a yellow-green denim jacket. A pair of binoculars hang around his neck. After scoping out the area with his eyes, he lifts up a pair of binoculars, and surveys the area again. He notes the horse, and the handmade cart, and begins his search for the owner, figuring they're close by.. probably.

Whoever he/she is, they're a skinny drink of water. And not very tall, either. Probably female then. She's cutting up something meaty, pausing occasionally to fish something out and throw it on the ground. The meaty bits are dropped into a pan of boiling water. A momentary flash as she turns the meaty thing over. She's making prarie dog stew.

Terry mutters quietly to himself, and tucks his binoculars away, before attempting to stealth his way over to the woman. Not right up behind her, but.. closer. Besides, that prairie dog stew does smell rather nice, and he hasn't had anything to eat yet today. He's been busy hunting to keep the camp topped off on food.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Terry=Stealth Vs Monica=Alertness
< Terry: Good Success Monica: Good Success
< Net Result: Terry wins - Marginal Victory

As Terry gets closer, he'd also start getting a whiff of the stranger. She could use a bath. Or two. Or three. She stops and looks straight out, listening carefully, and glances down to the double-barreled shotgun next to her. Then goes back to scraping the meat out of the prarie dog's hide into the water, and picking shot out of it.

Military experience does have its perks, especially when that includes Scout Sniper training. Thank you, Marine Corps. Terry continues to observe his target, enjoying the cool shade of the trees, and the grass. He's not totally sold on her just yet, so he'll continue to observe. He stretches out, shifting position ever so slightly, so his muscles don't get tired.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Terry=Stealth Vs Monica=Alertness
< Terry: Success Monica: Failure
< Net Result: Terry wins - Marginal Victory

Monica tosses the rest of the prarie dog into the reservoir for the fish, and stirs the pan. She looks around again, and moves the spoon to her off hand, still crouching next to a fire the size of a dinner plate. She mutters something about eating rats, but it's muffled by her bandana. She stirs carefully.

Terry figures he should probably introduce himself, so.. he stands. The only weapon visible on him, and that's if one gives him a real good look, is the KA-BAR Becker BK2 tactical knife stashed in his boot. "That smells pretty good. Prairie dog, right?" Both of his hands are in plain view, and he's trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible. Kinda tough to make a Marine look weak, though.

There's a smack of a hand against leather and a revolver in her hand as though by magic. By the time she brings it around she's cocked the hammer back. It's for sure a cap and ball revolver, but still… .44 caliber a big bore when you're looking down the wrong end. Monica looks Terry over, past the gunsights. "Turn around. I want to see the back of your neck."

Terry turns around in a deliberate manner, keeping his hands in sight at all times. He brushes his hair away from his neck — what little there is of it, given his pseudo-high-and-tight haircut — and reveals his neck. "Happy?"

Monica squints a gunfighter's squint to make sure what she's looking for isn't there. There's another click as she lets the hammer down, and a third as she settles it into one of the safety notches in the cylinder. She does take a long look at Terry as she slips her pistol back into its holster. "If you were one of the freak children I ran into near Camp Hopeless, you'd have an implant. If you were a silencer, you'd have already killed me. That makes you human, right?

"Yeah, and if that doesn't convince you, maybe this will." Terry reaches, delicately, for his knife, draws it free of its holster, an gives himself a deliberate poke. He's bled for his country before, so one more time won't hurt. He sheathes his knife, and fishes a bandage out of his shorts, patching up his wound.

Monica winces very slightly behind her bandana. "Who are you? And what's going on around here?" She looks once more at Terry, perhaps at his shorts, her eye caught by the motion. Or something. "Um. You can turn around. Sorry."

Terry turns back around. "I was out for a walk, and heard a noise. Gunfire, firecrackers, something. Saw the horse… Yours, yeah? Looks to be in good shape." He stretches, luxuriously, simultaneously stretching out and showing off his muscles. "I'm Terry. Terry Collins. And you?" He offers the non-bandaged hand, and what he hopes passes for a sociable smile.

Monica blinks, and yes, if Terry had eyes in the back of his head, he might have seen the outline of a smile cross her lips under that bandana. "Um. Mon. Monica Foreman. Gotta say you're eating pretty well. Is there a camp or something around here?"

Monica also does shake Terry's hand. If he's going to kill her, she's just given him all the tools he needs. A handhold and her gun hand.

"Yeah. There's a group of us set up here in town." Terry confirms. "We've been here a while." And then it clicks. "'Camp Hopeless'? Out near Fremont?"

Monica nods. "Fremont, yeah. Camp Hope, they called it. Only by the time I got there, there wasn't any. I've been following … I don't know. Rumors that the refugees from there came somewhere down here. I'm running on fumes, pretty much. Hunting's been lousy for weeks. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to cut Chester loose or eat him. If you know where they are, I'll share my dinner with you.

Terry nods. "I was there when everything went down.. We lost a good number of good people that day." He shakes his head, sadly. "Still hurts to think about it." He takes a moment, before glancing up. "We're set up in town, at the Shady Glen apartment complex."

Monica looks at Terry and blinks once, twice, her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh my god," she whispers. Her body language telegraphs the impending hug. "Oh my god. I found them. I found them."

<FS3> Terry rolls Alertness: Success.

Terry puts up his hands in a sort-of defensive posture. "Whoa, whoa, don't cry.. don't cry. Yeah, you found us." He shifts his position so that he can better intercept the hug. Although he can tolerate the stank rolling off of Monica, he's still not "Yippy skippy!" eager to hug.

Monica hugs Terry and cries anyway. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you guys lost… so much, I'm sorry I was mad at you for… for leaving… Jesus Christ, I'm sorry. Until right now, I forgot what clean smells like, but I've been trying to find you guys for so long…" She draws a breath and coughs. Reaches back to untie her bandana and wipe her nose with it. "You don't want to see this," She says, as she bares her face.

Terry makes a mental note to scrub, hard, once he gets back to camp. He's healthy enough to fight off most things, and he survived the alien plague, so.. yeah. He endures the hug, and waits for the reveal, his expression neutral.

Monica 's face isn't gangrenous. Her breath comes from dental trouble. But the soft, smooth skin that someone as young as she is should have is shot through with varicose veins, spidering through the skin of her face and neck, each one raising a tiny ridge in the skin.

Terry waits an appropriate amount of time before attempting to break the hug. "I was just about to head back to camp. I've got dinner cooking.. hopefully Quinton hasn't torched the place. It took me days to hunt down just the right buck." He offers a grin, and an indicative "c'mon" motion.

Monica looks down at the fire. "Let me hitch up." She doesn't throw out the stew either.

"Alright. I can wait.." Terry nods, waiting a bit for Monica to finish up. Once she's good and ready, he heads off toward camp.

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