Death Patrol
Death Patrol
Summary: Medical is dispatched to the Peerless to start sifting through dead bodies. Six hundred dead bodies.
Date: 121 ACH
Related Logs: Peerless logs

Landing Deck Peerless - Deck 18
121 ACH 23777 Souls

This Landing deck has been used mostly for those now living here. The research shuttles have been shoved off into the back areas. Whatever people could find to store from the areas outside, have been stored here in crates and boxes.

Marines are on guard here, in their battle dress and carrying rifles, stationed all around the landing bay. All of them are wearing masks with oxygen supply. Medical personnel have been arriving by shuttle, dressed in bright white hazmat suits with a red Genesis emblem on the back, and fishtank helmets with air hoses. No chances here. Zaharis is checking people off on a clipboard, doing his best to ignore the dull roar of the air going in and out of his suit.

Mellie arrives on the latest shuttle, all decked out in her whites and pretty fishtank helmet. Over toward Zaharis she goes, clearly ready for work. She doesn't have her usual bounce - but then again, who does? She's studiously avoiding looking around too much.'

In this light, the white of the hazmat is even brighter. Like marshmallows. Tais' framed eyes blink at the thought, a growl of her stomach indicating her algae shots are wearing off. It's quite alright, since she's got a feeling she'll be happy her stomach is unencumbered for the next several hours. Seeing Reed enter, she nods in acknowledgment of his presence.

Reed enters off a Raptor. Cleansuit? No problem, he can give anyone here a run for their money in hours logged in a cleansuit. gloved fingers moving over his wrist indicator, he steps off the Raptor, looking around. A local Prox channel opens in his suit, "Uh..huh." He murmers, taking in the scene, nodding in return.

Zaharis notes Melia as his eyes flick up, and marks her off on the sheet. Same with Tais. Even if either of them might've gotten a small smile anywhere else, the CMO is somber and focused on the task at hand right now. When he notes Reed he salutes, the gesture sharp even with the gloves and rustle of the suit. "Colonel." He scribbles something on the sheet in his hands and tilts the clipboard towards Reed so he can see the words, at the same time talking through the channel connecting the large group of volunteers. "We're all here. Everyone form up."
You paged Reed with 'Note says: Giving quick brief on procedure. You want to say anything first?'

As Mellie sees Reed - and has to take a moment to identify him in that suit - she pulles into a salute and stands at attention until the CMO gives the order to form up. Into line she gets, lips thin.

Tais looks pointedly at the Colonel's arm, a silent confirmation there are no errant effects from his run in from earlier in the day. She listens to the artificially induced dysphonia the suit produces and without further comment, she does as ordered; taking her chart in hand, her med bag of equipment to gather samples. If she were religious, she be saying prayers. A shame she's not, though this may turn her.

Reed looks at the clipboard, and nods, tapping the last part of the message, "Yeah." He says, then moves to the side, looking at the teams forming up. when they're in place, he lifts his head in the suit and the Proximity Channel opens with his voice.

"We're still not sure what happened here completely, but this is a look into the aftermath of this little drama. Lives were lost by the hundreds. That ends now. Whatever killed these people, I have every confidence that you will uncover it safely. We're going to work out what happened and get this ship up and running to keep the rest of this fleet alive."

His arm lifts, hand pointing down the row of MedTechs.

"You're the best. Each of you have earned the right to wear the uniform and these cleansuits. They're not an encumberance, but a mark of your skill. In these suits you can walk through nearly any environment untouched to get the job done, and you're the people who can do it. In all of humanity that is left, the right to say that can be shared by no one else. Work smart, think clear, and you'll all get through what's coming with flying colors. That's all."

Reed steps back, looking to Zaharis.

Zaharis nods at Reed's 'Yeah' and tucks the clipboard into the crook of his arm, waiting and listening. When Reed finishes he offers another salute and then looks at the large group of doctors, nurses, and medics that gave their time to be here. "Inside this storage unit is approximately six hundred men and women who lost their lives. It's been sealed until now with the protective plastic you see in front of you and negative airflow, and will remain so until we're done here. As first shift our job will be to go through each and every one of these bodies and catalogue them as well as possible. Each will be toe-tagged and bagged. Note any names from any form of ID you find - remember these are human beings and we want to preserve as much dignity as we can. ID is to be removed once noted and bagged separately along with personal items. Any military dogtags are to be stored and turned over. Make notes of other identifying features as you were briefed on on the Genesis. We are drawing blood and samples from every body. Samples should be labeled with the same number as the donor and stored in the cases you've been given. If you run out of room in your case, radio back to the shuttles for another." He pauses, taking a slow breath from the air coursing through his helmet. "Should you need to take a break at any point, notify myself or your shift head. This is going to hard on all of us, and the fleet salutes your courage as volunteers. I salute your courage. Are there any questions on procedure before we begin?"

Tais murmurs, unaware if her comm is open or not, "We who are about to die salute you? Thanks, Colonel." She knows her duty on this one. She was on the team who had to autopsy the legion found in the carrier Indefagitable. Each and everyone decompressed to a leathery hue. That vision still keeps her up some nights.

Melia seems to be taking mental notes at what both the CMO and Fleet XO have to say. Her face has about gone the color of her suit, but she seems ready to get to work - that Terrier stubbornness in play again. "Shall we work in teams, Sir," she pipes up quietly.

Reed looks to Zaharis, listening, then glances to Tais as the evils of a Proximity Channel in place broadcast her murmer to, well, everyone in proximity. Which is everyone here. He does not reply, but looks to the group and waits for the questions. As they come in he stands there, letting the CMO handle things.

Zaharis nods to Melia. As much as one can nod in a fishtank for a helmet, and he supplements it a moment later by speaking. "Teams of two. The list is posted just outside the storage bay. I believe you and Lieutenant Pomona are together." He looks around, fielding a handful of other questions that come up from the group, and when it goes quiet again he motions to the sealed storage area. "Four hours. Everyone report back here for decon at 01:00 hours. Let's move."

Thank the gods the helmet conceals more than it reveals as Tais realizes her prox was indeed open. She refrains from further comment, simply wanting to do her job and get the hell away. A deep breath, thankful for the SCBA to regulate fresh air and she waits to be allowed entrance.

Melia looks over to Tais and offers a bit of a smile from within the fishbowl. Turning her prox on again, she asks, "How do you want to handle this, Sir? I'll look for the ID and what not, you do the writing? I can take the hands on."

Reed watches the groups start settling to get to work, then, lifts his arm, fingers moving over his wrist console on the suit, turning down his gain on the Prox, and moves to Zaharis, effect that one needs to -listen- for him unless he's close to them. To Zaharis, he says, "Looks like you might be able to use another Biologist and Chemist."

Storage Bay Peerless - Deck 18
121 ACH 23777 Souls

This large storage bay was full of items that are needed on the year long journey of the research vessel. Now it's full of bodies, the bags of grains and supplies having been cleaned out to make room for this morbid scene. Nearly 600 corpses have been piled in here, stacked in gruesome heaps. Many of their glassy eyes are still open, faces contorted in the final grimace of painful agony. Their clothing is ripped and stained with bodily fluids. One can imagine the thick stench that could be smelled if not for masks and airtight HAZMAT suits.

Tais says, "Let's take the upper quadrant of the room. Move from one to the next. I don't mind hands on, Ensign." Together, they can catalog and collect fluids quickly. Tais figures they've got a good two hours before the suits begin to weigh on them, especially those unused to the limited movement and the strain of carrying the extra equipment around. "We'll…." Her voice falls and all that is heard is "Holy mothers of gods."

"Your lucky day," Zaharis replies in that muffled voice to Reed. "We were an odd number till you walked up." His hesitation to steel himself is barely noticeable as he heads through the complicated series of biohazard guards and into the huge storage bay. The sheer sight just makes him stop for a moment in his tracks. No words, his eyes just flickering over this godsforsaken place.

Mellie doesn't quite balk at the door, but she does falter a little, lips going thin. "Come on, Lieutenant," she says quietly, briefly gagging, before touching Tais' arm. "I'll do the hands on for the first hour, then we'll switch off. Let's start up where you suggested." She's not overly comfortable in the suit, but she has that must-go-on air about her.

Reed nods in the suit, "Well, fortunate me." He says, and as he steps in, he shoulders through the heavy plastic, passing the Neg-Pres seals in a squeak of rubber and plastic, till he stops, looking around and up. He swallows and sets his jaw, "Definately gonna need a large supply of cases." He reaches to his belt, clicking off a handheld, "..and more lights."

Tais shakes her head slowly, putting the grizzly sight to the background for the moment, to be reexamined at a more appropriate time. Perhaps after several rounds of strong liquor. A definitive nod, her step determined, though cautious so she doesn't slip on the body fluids which have pooled randomly on the floor.

Zaharis' teeth press together, lips thinned. Even though the smell can't get through the helmet, his mind is trying to imagine it whether he wants it to or not. "Shift heads," he says into his little mic. "Spread out. Alpha and Bravo…" He lifts his arm, gesturing them to the left side of the giant room. "Charlie and Delta…" To the other side. "Echo and Foxtrot take centre. Golf, set up the cataloguing base near the doors and unpack. Let's stay focused."

Mellie starts toward the first body in her quadrant, taking a deep breath. "Here we go, Lieutenant," she says, glancing over her shoulder. "Caucasian male," she begins, slowly and quietly reeling off observations as she reaches out to touch the body. There's a very definite care in the way she approaches this, an almost reverence that's probably born of her upbringing. Once the initial observations are made, she reaches for a pocket.

Tais stands ready for the first name to be noted, the dog tags collected and then samples. Clinically, she observes the dead…Helmsman…she writes, his mouth retracted showing the death mask of grimace. His pain must have been excruciating, she conjects as fingers thick with encumbrances attempt the note taking. Her voice is clipped, no sign of anything other than gathering information. The realization they were once human will press in upon her soon enough. Feeling a brush against her leg, she looks down to see an outstretched hand, the last vestiges of rigor leaving the crewman's body limp. She takes note of the greenish-blue tinge of his neck, the sunken eyes.

Reed sticks close to Zaharis and taps a few things into the handheld, then clips it back to his belt, looking around, then to Zaharis to see where he's supposed to be. Hell, he's not a medical man, but he's here.

Near Zaharis and Reed, a doctor in their group is unrolling a long tarp. What they need is an industrial sized shovel, but all they have is Zaharis and the others in this clump, who start with the first body and gently pick it up, carrying it to the end of the tarp. Then the next. And the next. As bodies are laid out, Zaharis kneels by the first one and writes out an ID tag, fastening it on the young man. He then pats down the man's pockets, stopping as something jingles. Small silver chain, not dogtags. There's a religious symbol hanging from the end. "Care to help me with the writing, Colonel?" He offers to Reed. "There's a section there for personals."

Mellie works alongside Tais, much in the same way that Zaharis and Reed are working, though perhaps a little more slowly. Two small women, lots of bodies - but they're working. Mellie seems to settle into a groove quickly enough. Move, pat, tag, sample. Lather, rinse, repeat. Any observations are called over to Tais quietly. The first man's eyes are open when they finish, so Mellie takes just a moment to close them before moving to victim #2.

Reed nods, moving to take a clipboard and take notes. "Certainly. We've got a lot of writing ahead of us." He begins with the basics of the form, starting to fill in the details asked for on the paperwork. He takes a step to the side, sliding a little on a black pool of a substance that seems to resemble curdled milk, but rights himself smoothly.

Tais removes the thermometer, slipping it into the liver in order to take the core temperature. She can look into his eyes, seeing the film-covered gaze and grateful for Melia's closing of his lids. As much as one tries to remain dispassionate, there are moments when one is disconcerted. The eyes which seem to bore into yours, calling for justice to be discovered. As there is movement elsewhere, her gaze is split from her immediate surrounding briefly. And then returned as Mel reads off another name, handing her his dogtags.

Elsewhere in the bay, someone's pulling a body up as carefully as she can. The whole pile shifts, sliding corpses down on top of each other with sickening thuds. "Frak," a female voice calls out, and she pauses to get her breath and stop her hands from shaking before continuing.

Zaharis glances that way and then back to Reed, giving the Colonel the details on the body they're working on. He shifts on his knees, pulling a small syringe from his case and leaning over to draw blood as the young man's cloudy eyes stare at the ceiling. "Sticky label at the bottom of the form. Write his number on there and hand it to me, would you."

Reed write writes, then pulls of the sticky with his gloved hands. THAT'S something that takes practice in these suits. He hands over the sticky label, and preps a new form, "Is it just me, or does blood vomit seem common for these corpses?" He asks with a low gain on his channel.

Mellie continues to work, even after she gets the first spattering of black, brackish looking blood on her suit. She pauses to look at it for a long moment, as if studying an utterly alien life form. But then it's back to work, moving the second body into place and sliding her hands around to find the identification and dog tags. "It's almost as if I can feel the heat from the bodies through the suit," she tells Tais quietly. "I expect them to move at any second, to be alive. Make a note that this one has some kind of foam at the corner of her mouth, please."

Tais also watches a corpsman attempt to slide a body bag beneath one of the dead when the skin of his leg sloughs off, leaving the remains in the man's hand, the rest falling back to the ground with a sickening thunk. As Reed voices the question, she turns slowly, also noting the inordinate amount of vomit littering the floor. In addition, of course to the various body fluids expelled from their bodies. She so notes the foamy mouth, though her brows knit as she shifts her attention, not on the bodies themselves, but the fluids around them.

"It does," Zaharis adjusts the gain on his channel likewise, lowering it. He reaches for the man's mouth, turning his head by the jaw. "Difficult to tell if the blood is in the vomit or the sputum. Could be either respiratory or GI origin at this point." He sticks the label onto the small bottle of blood, then gets a sample of the bloody fluid. What he can at least, since most of it is soaked into clothing.

Reed nods, taking the new chart and watching the progress, frowning. "Could be any number of things to cause this, but.." He looks around, "All this at the same time, but not affecting a single Genesis crewmember?" He shakes his head, "Strong case against airborne agent."

Mellie reaches out to take a sample of her own of the foam dried on the corner of the woman's mouth, flaking it off into a sample container and labeling it. "Do you notice anything about the eyes, Lieutenant," she asks, glancing up at the doctor. "What do you see with the pupils?"

Tais says, "Major, note the composition of the stool. All of them are loose, with a brackish blue tinge. Ensign, make sure to gather samples from each body?" She leans over as best as she can, seeing it collect on her booted shoes, seeming to crawl up the protective cloth. "Their pupils are dilated. The eyelids seem to have been…paralyzed before death. Is this the fourth one in that hooded position? Perhaps some type of cranial nerve disordered brought on chemically? Most interesting."

Zaharis shakes his head at that. He clicks on a penlight, opening the man's mouth and looking inside. Then his nose. "No burns or irritation in the mouth or nasal passages. Agent was probably ingested. Tox screen on the blood will tell us for sure." He clicks off the light and tucks it away. Samples taken, he zips up the body bag and presses another numbered label to the front, motioning for Team Golf to come and haul it towards autopsy. Morgue's going to be a train of bodies for days. Hearing Tais, he turns up the gain on his mic. "Colour noted, Lieutenant. Might be upper GI bleeds, but that'd be unusual to see it in all of them."

Reed turns, motioning the next body to be prepped for processing as Zaharis deals with the other teams, prepping the fresh chart and noting down a few of the basics. Gender, skin pigmentation before death, etc etc.

Melia nods to Tais, seeming to work relatively easily with the Lieutenant. Soon enough, they've reached their groove in working with their part of the Body Mass. Mellie seems to have tuned everything else out but the work, marking down observations, tagging everything, movements efficient and precise.

If one could see the response to the Major's comment on Tais' face after she looks about the field of dead it would probably have the tag line, "And these aren't unusual circumstances, sir?" If not wearing her hazmat suit, she'd no doubt have the universal sign of "Oh really?" with her hands placed squarely on her hips. Thank goodness she has more important issues at the moment.

Body conveyor belt. Zaharis moves onto the next one, a blonde female. "Bismuth-based agent, perhaps," he mutters to himself. Some liquid squishes under his knee and he keeps himself focused on the body rather than ponder what that could've been. "Female, caucasian, age approximately thirty years old. Heavy contusions to the face and throat." He touches her neck, moving the skin so he can see the bruises.

Reed writes, scribbling away. "Still, with this many, and all hitting at the same time, and only these people.." He shrugs, not looking from the chart, "It's going to need to be very clear to convince anyone this wasn't premeditated."

Melia gently nudges Tais' arm when they get to the next person in line, a male, eyes open, expression a rictus of pain and suffering. When he died, he didn't go down well, and it looks like he even clawed some of his own face on the way down. "May I have a sample tube please. I'm going to get some from under his nails. Could you write me a tag, please." All very polite and professional. Her once pristine suit is now splattered and smudged with a variety of bodily fluids. How apropos.

Tais pauses, leaning down close to Melia, a hand on the Ensign's arm. She hands off her flashlight with a charge, "Can you open the lid further? Careful it doesn't rip…" She then notes the abducted and inferior position of the eye, the oculomotor palsy, the slight shift to the upper right. "How many has this been that we've seen this anomaly?" She is careful to indicate it once Melia responds. Reed's comment precipitates an observation, "This looks like more of a slaughter, Colonel. Or at the very least ingestion to see who had the fortitude to live," her gaze is all encompassing, "Or not."

"We're not in the business of speculating," Zaharis notes aloud, tagging this body and starting to pat her down for personal items. "The facts will speak; let's give them their proper voice."

Reed tilts his head slightly, copying down the number to the sticky tag and waiting for anything personal to ID the body they're working on. "A lot of stuff to sift through. I'm meeting with S2 later to see how their processing of the living is going."

Mellie gives a quiet reply to Tais' question - it's an easy one, all of them. And she continues to move, settled into the rhythm.

Tais continues to catalog, the pace she and the ensign are working effective. Once she is upbraided, her comments are no longer voiced and she simply continues to work silently.

"Let Shem know it's going to be a while to get through all these autopsies," Zaharis tells Reed. "But first results on blood testing should be back within a a few hours. We'll pass everything relevant to him ASAP." He sits back on his heels, looking over at the mountain of bodies that they've been making steady progress through. Hours later and nearly ready for second shift, it's still a mountain. On the floor, bits of grain and dried vegetables from the bags that used to be here are mixed in with blood and vomit, crushed under bootheels.

Reed nods, "Easy enough." He says. "I'll be interested in the bloodwork." Near the end of first shift, he starts the process of flexing out his hand. It's been a while that he's written this much in a cleansuit glove.

Melia settles back after a bit, leaning back on her heels. "Major," she calls into the suit, quietly. "Do you want me to take a shift on tox when we get back? I can start processing some of these samples." She'll be awake for quite awhile.

Tais's body and thoughts are numb by the time Zaharis is about to call a halt to his team's efforts. She can't even count how many bodies have been processed by the both of them as it seems to grow exponentially each hour. Tais' head turns to observe the Colonel, regardless of the weapon, he's still working with a wounded arm, which by this time has got to be contracting in protest. Melia's comment from before about the possibility of finding someone alive sends a chill down her back as she tamps down the thought.

Zaharis stands up, carefully. He can feel his knees and back make protesting cracks that he can't hear. "Lab would appreciate that, Ensign, thank you." He nods to Reed and then flicks the switch that will broadcast his voice across all headsets. "It's oh one hundred hours. Second shift's waiting on us to clear out. Finish up your current and head to decon, everyone, and make sure your paperwork's filed. Made good time tonight." His eyes can't help flickering back to that body pile, even if his expression doesn't betray any thoughts.

Reed nods back to Zaharis, and finishes his paperwork before handing it off and moves off a bit to let the shift change go smoothly, staying in Zaharis' general vicinity.

Melia finally pushes to her feet, moving slowly, lost in her own thoughts. "Aye, Sir," she calls to Zaharis, then just kind of wanders off to decom, paperwork and samples in her arms. It's as though she's on auto pilot.

A brief slide in the fluids as Tais turns to go has her reaching for Melia for balance. A disturbing type of skating as she makes her way towards the hatch and decon unit. She knows the worst part will be when the helmet comes off and that whiff of body fluids hits her. Her stomach contracts in anticipation of the onslaught.

Zaharis lets the whole team go ahead of him out the pressure locks and into the decon bay, two at a time. His eyes spend a few moments on each passing face, perhaps keeping track of how his personnel seem to be doing after a thing like this. As first shift is filing out, second is filing in. The first doctor that comes through the plastic shields takes one look around and doubles over, shoulders hitching. He turns back quickly before he ends up filling his helmet with stomach contents.

Reed moves out with the last of the team, letting Zaharis deal with the faceplate messing emergency. He moves with a certain fatigue, stretching his arm slowly.

Mellie's just outside of decon, getting stripped out of her suit when Reed comes out. "Evening, Colonel," she calls over to him, certainly subdued. "Feeling alright, Sir?"

Landing Deck Peerless - Deck 18
121 ACH 23777 Souls

This Landing deck has been used mostly for those now living here. The research shuttles have been shoved off into the back areas. Whatever people could find to store from the areas outside, have been stored here in crates and boxes.

After decon…

"Frak me, why didn't I bring menthol?" A lingering chill from the recent disgorgment of Tais' guts scores through her, her hand pressing once more to her mouth.

Reed comes out of the Decon chamber, free of the Cleansuit, rubbing his right arm lightly, swallowing, "Oh, fine, thank you, Ensign. congratulations, incidentaly, now that you've made it to the ranks of the brass." He says to Melia, still looking a bit drawn from, well the rationing and just ensuring he's not going to eat for a while yet.

Zaharis lets Melia and Reed to their quiet talk for a minute. Out of his suit, he's helmet-haired and a little paler than usual, but he keeps shoulders back and voice unshaken. He lightly touches the back of Tais' shoulder, lowering his voice so it doesn't carry. "Hey. You alright, Pom?"

How unfair. Everyone else in the Fleet is going to get to feast tonight, while the teams are going to be recoiling from the sight of food for quite some time. Algae would probably be a blessing. "Thanks, Colonel," Mellie tells Reed with a dip of her head, though no smile. "I'm…I need to get back to the lab, I think. Are you coming to Gen's lab?"

Tais murmurs, "How can algae taste worse coming up than going down?" She stretches luxuriantly, free from the suit, though the images linger. She glances at both senior officers, stabbing towards the Peerless with her thumb, "Our…food supply's in there, too?" A nod to confirm to Zaharis that she'll live. For the moment.

Reed shakes his head, smirking, "I think I've pestered the Majors teams enough." He tells Melia, still rubbing his right arm. Could be all the writing. Except he's left handed. He then looks to Tais and nods, "Well, not in there, there, but the storage is in a different bank of the ship." He comments.

Zaharis nods to Reed's words and looks back at Tais. "Don't worry, Bio's taking care of the food." He looks back at the others. "Suggest everyone get a normal shower and a few minutes before you head to anything else."

Melia nods to Zaharis and Reed, but doesn't say much of anything before she boards the shuttle back. Yep, she's lost in her own little world.

Tais pushes her glasses firmly to the bridge of her nose, the lingering essence of death still following them. Turning her head, she eyes the Colonel's arm, a single lift of her brow asking the silent question. Over brightly she asks, "There wouldn't be one shot glass of anything distilled coming from the ship, would there?"

Reed looks to Tais and shakes his head briefly, letting his arms drop to the sides, "I'm certainly not drinking anything on this ship till the entire Medical department clears it." He says with a faint smirk. No real humor, but levity.

Zaharis snorts at Reed. To Tais he says, "Doubt anyone's gotten that far. But if you feel like picking up smoking, I can help you there." He looks over at Melia as she leaves, then motions the rest towards the shuttles. Behind them, the guard is still changing. "Keep me up on what you can from the S2, would you, Carter?"

Melia leaves for Shuttle Transfer [SH].
Melia has left.

Tais pleads good naturedly, "Ginko juice? Acai essence? Gramble juice? Picon rum…" At Reed's words, the desire flees as she finds herself swallowing bile back into her throat. "So noted, sir." Her hands slip into the fatigue pockets with a dark, "I need a massage." To Zaharis, a bright smile parts the dark thoughts momentarily, "I can help you pick through the butts, sure."

Reed nods, moving to the shuttles, "Sounds like everyones evenings are planned out now. Good to know." He says with a smirk as he boards the shuttle.

Tais pats down her pockets and slips a miniature cruiser from a pocket, handing it to Reed. "The spoils of war, for you, Colonel."

Zaharis gives the little miniature as close to an amused look as he can muster, and heads for the shuttle himself.

Reed looks at the miniature, and smiles, taking it, "Very funny." He says, smirking, looking to Zaharis as he follows the Doctor, "You teaching your doctors your sense of humor, hmm?"

Tais walks languidly beside the Major, her hands once more shoved into her pockets. Her body moves easily with unconscious grace, a smile on her lips at Reed's comment. At her back the dark pony tail shifts right to left with each step.

Zaharis comments over his shoulder, "Just don't call her Pom-Pom or she'll cap your ass."

Reed nods, "No Pom-Pom. Got it." He walks along, toying with the cruiser idily in his left hand. "And I won't even ask why not." He says firmly.

Tais uses the leg nearest the Major to kick his ass, done with aplomb of a former cheerleader who's still got her chops. "You'll pay for that one."

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