Utterly Mad

Des checks the chambers on both his UZIs and says "Ready when you are."

Seb gave a casual salute. 

"Right.  See you soon."

He slipped outside and begins crawling on all fours through the tall grasses, the RPK secured to his back, with such fluidity it was as if he were always meant to move this way.  The strands of green grew thick, completely obscuring his vision of anything but the sky above and a glimpse of the billboard, but he hardly needed it.  This was his element.  The reason why Deliverance Company even picked him up to begin with and what he spent the last year doing in their ranks.  He felt liberated as he allowed his senses to open up, his ears swiveled about and he constantly sniffed at the air, taking in every detail; the aroma of the earth, small burrowing animals scampered throughout the plains, the wind that rushed through the carpet of grass carrying the smell of life...and that of his prey with it. 

He found a position a good forty meters or so away from the road at the edge of the burnt circle of grass, the traces of the fire irritating his nostrils, with a relatively clear sightline to where the group of Remnants were standing.  He laid prone, deployed the RPK on it's bipod and waited, almost perfectly still, with his ears folded flat against his skull.  Watching, waiting, and listening for the sign to spring into action.

Des nonchalantly slides off the seat and flops onto the floor, holding both UZIs parallel to his head. "Hiding." he says, without emotion in his voice or face.

"Please Help, my friend is "injured"."



Everyone:

Zaweri "The XM8 Fetishist" gently applies pressure to the gas pedal, the RV gently rolling towards the Remnants down the hill. Everyone is feeling on edge about this, and the tension is laying itself thick upon the crew. The RV starts to pick up speed as it cruises down the hill, two of the Remnants scamper into the tall grass, leaving only one in the road. He clutches his hip, and puts his hand over his face. Pretending like he was just attacked.

Seb can see one of them just mere feet across from him, the stink of blood, sweat, and gun powder reeking off the 'forgotten soldier's' aged gear. If he pulled the trigger now, this man would never see it coming. Taking him out of the world suddenly, like he did to his victims.

As the RV approaches closer, the "victim" starts moaning and groaning, "Puh-Please.." He struggles out as he starts approaching the front of the vehicle. "My friend is injured, three raiders from up north ambushed us and took our gear, please he's right over here, we need help please!" He lifts up his face, revealing his ugly fat mug, scars, mud, and blood caked in-between the crevices of fat. He notice's that, you're not buying his pleas for help.

Amy remains silent, crouching down and tightening her grip on the rifle.   "...Really?   Like, seriously?   They're going with the whole 'wounded' thing?  Yeah, like that's gonna work."

Seb suppresed a snarl as the Remnant trooper took cover directly in front of him.  His claw rested on the trigger, the sight zeroed in on the coward before him.  It would be so easy to squeeze and end the life of this 'man'.  However, he had another idea. 

Shooting a quick glance at the road to see the troopers distracted by the incoming RV, he released the trigger and rose into a crouch, drawing one of his daggers and inching towards the nearby trooper, using the wind ruffled grass to mask the sound of his approach.  His ears perked up at the pathetic act from the road and Zaweri's warning shortly afterward, and took that as his cue.  Lunging forward with a growl, the wolf looked to pin the trooper to ground and slam his fist into the back of their skull to try to knock them out, with a follow up pummeling if necessary. 

Des blinks when Zaweri fires off his first shot. "It's go time." He leaps to his feet, and moves across the RV. Holding both UZIs at the ready he kicks open the side door of the RV and leans out, scanning the nearby grass for the two other soldiers.