Peaceful Distress (Altamira)

OoC: Got it up. Just so you know, I'm not holding back.

BiC: It was not so busy as the crew expected today. Usually after only a couple of hours past noon would there be an emergency, or at least something to do, but it was such a peaceful day for everyone that nothing bad seemed to be able to happen anytime soon. It was relieving for the team, knowing that everyone in Narconeia was living a nice day without problems for a change, unlike the usual dangers that haunted the citizens, sometimes leaving them scarred in the aftermath.

Nonetheless, it put everyone at ease for the time being. The crew took the chance to rest easy for the time being, taking the opportunity to do whatever they wanted. As for Spearhead, he laid in his bed in his room with the metal blasting, like he always played it when alone. The current situation put him on edge today, knowing that something was going to happen. The fact that nothing was going on for the past several hours, leaving the entire team doing nothing, bothered him alot. Peaceful times like these never happen so suddenly, so something had to happen soon.

The communication earpiece on his desk beeped, alarming Spearhead of incoming orders from the General. He quickly got up from his bed and grabbed the earpiece and put it to his ear.

"Colonel Spearhead," the colonel responded.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" the voice asked, perplexed by the colonel's response. It soon dawned on the colonel that the man he was speaking to was their new General, and didn't know of the colonel's codename.

"Sir, Ethan Warrick reporting, sir," he corrected himself.

"Ah, I see," the voice realized. "So you're the leader of Team Hybrid. My apologies for my rude behaviour."

"No need for apologies, General Marc," Spearhead assured him. "What are our orders?"

"We've been getting messages of distress from a local town north of your area," the General explained. "It's not a big problem that we need any heavy suppresion. One of you will do."

"Who is to go, sir?"

"It's for you to decide, colonel," Marc replied. "And remember not to overdo it this time."

Spearhead felt more relieved, knowing that the day is now like any other normal day. He thought of who to send, thinking who could get the job done quickly and exceptionally. The colonel thought of reaper, knowing she could complete the mission without trouble and alarming the enemy. Maybe Heat Surfer, since his aerial capabilities are superb with his experience as a Cloud Surfer, so he can get in and out fast. So who should I send?

"But the General did say 'north', right?" He remembered the location of the source of the messages. That was where Mirshan was, a well-known merchant town. It was also a place known to have the answers to almost anything. Spearhead was meaning to go there to get answers on his origin, something he wondered about since the letter he recieved.

"I guess I'll go then," he decided. He turned off his radio and took his trident from the corner of his room, along with his MP3 player.

The colonel entered the hangar, seeing Heat Surfer tuning up his cloud-board. Looking up, the red-haired pilot stood up and saluted to his officer. Spearhead did the same, and ordered him to be at ease.

"Do you need something, sir?" Heat Surfer asked.

"I need to borrow your board for the day," the colonel told him. The pilot quizzically looked at his officer.

"You need to borrow my board?" He made sure he wasn't hearing anything.

"I need it to get to Mirshan quickly," Spearhead explained. "I have some errands I want to complete before the day's over."

"Alright, but it's not able to go the extra mile like it usually does," the pilot warned.

"I just need to go quickly, not fast," Spearhead explained.

Heat Surfer handed the vehicle to the colonel, and opened the hatch to let Spearhead exit the ship. Once the colonel exited into the skies, the hatch was sealed shut until his arrival.

- - - - -

Mirshan was as busy as it usually is, being one of the biggest merchant towns in the region. It was hard to find someone who actually lived there who did anything other than taking care of a shop or recreatonal centre. Everyone who lived in Mirshan either owned a shop, an inn, a bar, or any sort of public building. There was always something to do in the town, for both patrons and owners.

The colonel placed the cloud-board in the hands of Bardik, an innkeeper he befriended awhile ago on his last visit to the town. He also asked him about the best place to find any information one would want to know.

"The best place is the bar, especially the one a couple a' shops down to the left," Bardik explained, stocking the shelves behind the counter. "It's a nice lil' place called 'The Wanderer's Safehouse", always full o' travellers every day of the week. It's small, but it's always full of even the smallest of news. There should be something you can get outta someone."

Spearhead walked out of the store and headed left, walking down the street until he stopped at a bar with the name "The Wanderer's Safehouse" flashing above the entrance. He walked in to see many patrons sitting at tables and counters, discussing different sorts of matters and drinking with friends, some singing beer songs for enjoyment. The numerous events occuring in the bar lead Spearhead to believe that it might have not been a good place to start.

Spearhead walked to the counter and sat on a seat. The bartender walked up to him, cleaning a glass with a white dishcloth.

"What'll it be?" he asked in a low, gruff voice, appropriate for a man of his enormous size.

"Anything you have on special," came the response from the colonel. The bartender walked away to bring him his drink, but stopped suddenly to notice someone in the doorway. the figure appeared to have caught everyone's attention, for everyone's eyes were looking at the entrance. Spearhead ignored the person, but couldn't help to look when he saw the figure walk to the seat next to him.

OoC: Haha, I don't expect you to. : P I'm using Louis Fritz--the link to his profile's in my sig. Sorry that this is short/blah, but I'm kind of rusty right now. ^^;;

IC:
Granted, maybe his clothes were a little old-fashioned. A little too "back-country farmer". But he didn't think that warranted all the attention he was getting here as he strode in, his tall hat knocking into the top of the door frame as the instrument cases rattled on his broad back. He nodded his head to people here and there as he walked by--anyone who was staring at him a little too long. They gave the piece of hay he had stuck jauntily in his mouth a distasteful look, but he just went on chewing on the end of it, pretending to be oblivious to it all.

There was an interesting-looking fellow at the bar--blue-hair, grim face, sort of nonchalant expression. Just the sort of person the minstrel enjoyed drinking with, just to see them loosen their stiff upper lip a bit, and maybe to hear their story. They always had an entertaining tale in their past to tell, if you could get it out of them. He adjusted his hat on his head, dusted off his shirt, and took a seat next to him, ordering a beer. He wasn't here this evening to hear any stories, but...relaxing a little bit before a job couldn't hurt.

Without taking his eyes off the beer taps in front of him, he asked the blue-haired man, "So...what brings a fellow like you out here, eh?"

OoC: Considering the lack of sleep and the amount of coca cola I decided to drink to keep me awake, I did pretty well with this entry.

BiC: The man's cheery attitude bothered the colonel slightly, not because it was strange, but because it was awkward. A complete stranger doesn't talk to another such person, yet this man took a seat next to him and asked about his business. It may not be a normal way of thinking, but Spearhead believed it was unwise to get involved with other people and their lives. He thought it would be a smart decision for the stranger to leave him alone before complications may momentarily arise.

"Not much for talking, huh?" The stranger responded to the colonel's silence. The rugged appearance and dirty clothing told of many adventures in the man's past life, maybe so much so that he was possibly eager to share them with Spearhead to lighten the load of memories off his mind. Regardless of his intentions, Spearhead was in no mood to speak. The mission was his main priority.

"Here ya go, kid," the bartender said as he gave the colonel his order. Spearhead took it, raising the glass as a thank you to the bartender, and started to drink the beverage slowly to savour the taste, however spoiled it was from the odd stranger sitting next to him. He couldn't help but ask the man, at least to understand why he's here.

"Do you have any errands you're running?" Spearhead asked nonchalantly, waiting for the rugged man's reply.

"No, just stopping by is all," he retorted with a satisfied tone, as if he were hoping to talk to the colonel. Seeing that he is a hardy traveller, Spearhead decided to ask him some questions about his travels - mainly to try and get rid of him - to see if he knew anything about the distress calls he was told about, along with possible information on his strange powers.

"So where are you headed?" he asked, sounding as interested as he could make himself seem.

"Just a traveller passing by," he simply responded, as if he rehearsed the answer many times. "I really don't have a set place I plan to go to. What about you?"

I guess I should mingle with the guy, Spearhead thought. Just so I can get more out of him, and get him off my back.

"I'm here on duty," the colonel replied. "I was informed of a distress signal coming from this town. Did you hear of anything unusual?"

"Can't say that I have," the stranger scratched his head while trying to remember of what the young soldier spoke of. "Sorry, but I can't help you there."

"Didn't think you could," Spearhead mumbled to himself. The man eyed him curiously, making the colonel feel more uneasy about the cheery fellow.

"What do you mean by 'on duty' ?" he asked curiously. "What do you do for a living?"

If it means getting him off my back, he thought.

"My name is Col. Spearhead, soldier of the W.P.F. and team leader of special forces Hybrid." He believed he made it somewhat too direct of a reply, but as long as his curiosity was quenched the better it was for Spearhead's tolerance of the man.

"Spearhead? That's an unusal name," the stranger retorted, perplexed. "Is that your true name?"

"My real name's gone," the colonel explained, slightly raising his voice in frustration. "But enough of that. If you don't know of the distress signal, and you feel like doing nothing but ask me questions, maybe you could answer mine."

The colonel put his glass down with a thud onto the wooden counter and turned to sit directly facing the man, showing his tattooed arm to the stranger. Being a traveller, he should have some knowledge of the markings he learned from his journeys... right?

"Do you know what the hell this is?" Spearhead asked impatiently, almost demanding an answer. The stranger looked at the arm, observing the strange markings on the soldier's forearm. Given his drink by the bartender, he took a sip from the glass as the soldier waited for a reply.