runmakitarun | As with most things, there is a beginning

Entry tags:

oom,
war in bahamut

As with most things, there is a beginning

Earlier today Makita spoke to the people on her team she could find, and left notes with Bar for those she couldn't. Today is the day. It's time to go back.

While she's spoken to her team about what to expect, at least to some degree, no one's gotten a full briefing yet. She's pushed some tables out of the way to form a sort of open space in one corner of the bar, and as people begin to arrive she's starting to unpack the five military-style duffel bags at her feet, laying the contents out on the tables nearby. Grenades, mines, boxes of ammo, and a few guns are slowly spread out like a deadly little buffet.

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Mel nods in the direction of the only person she doesn't know. He's about the same size as half her friends at home; he'll do.

"Mel."

Do for what? Paperweight?

"Seen this sort of thing before?"

"Sorceresses with bodyguards in a war-torn city covered in snow?"

Mel shakes her head, smirking.

"I killed some Nazis once, though."

"Nice," Krauser says, without reservations. Yep, he's American. "I've seen conditions like these before. Magic is a new one, but at least it sounds predictable."

He'd hate to be turned into a frog.

"Rutting hate magic," says the demon possessed Chosen One whose boyfriend, only human thanks to a wizard, is telepathically bonded to a sentient bar and the husband of a witch.

"Not really a match or us, though."

"No." He didn't like the last magic he ran into. He really didn't. On the other hand, he's not afraid of anything anymore. "Doesn't take care of the bigger picture on her world, but it's a start."

Mel shrugs. "You don't take care of the bigger picture without becoming the bigger problem. I just keep my friends alive."

"If you don't, nothing ever changes. Some systems just need an overhaul." He shrugs. "Not that there's a lot to be done with someone else's world."

As far as he's concerned, her focussing on keeping Makita alive works. . . for as long as this mission lasts.

"Nothing ever changes," Mel repeats, indifferent.

"Rich folks stay rich, poor folks stay poor. Life's unfair. You hafta fight to stay alive. Same today as it was in the twentieth century."

"Oh yeah." He disagrees. Pleasantly. "It does. It's just a matter of what you've got in mind, that's all."

"Got in mind things that actually affect us down in the lowers."

Another shrug.

"I'm OK with killing to stay alive. Everyone else can kill to change the future."

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As with most things, there is a beginning

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