December 27th. Early morning. It's a clear day, and the rising sun bathes the front of the house in orange light, making the snow that covers the ground glitter. Tara woke up early, so she's gone outside to shovel before joining Leah for breakfast. She's surprisingly capable of clearing the snow despite her small frame, thanks to pure persistence. She's no longer afraid to ask for help if she just can't handle it, but it's still a last
#Leah'sHouse – February 10, 2022
resort that comes with a large helping of shame. Aching muscles are a small price to pay to prove her worth to the people that have taken her in and showered her in kindness like she's never experienced before. Inside the house, Zoe is getting ready for another day of making Francois' life... more interesting. The young gzzk has a mischievous side, and it seems to come out more easily without Tara around. The blue furball is currently on one
of the windowsills, dangerously close to knocking over a potted plant when the sudden, loud BANG of a gunshot rings out, breaking the morning's calm and sending the gzzk darting in fear towards the perceived safety of the space underneath the couch. A shouting, masculine voice follows from outside: "AUBRY BLACK! OR IS IT LEAH?!"
Francois doesn't seem to mind the curious nature of the creature. Truth be told, he's probably just happy to have a bit of company while Tara and Leah are at work. It's been a lazy morning at the Mercier residence, with Francois taking it upon himself to whip up a quick breakfast for the group consisting of scrambled eggs and toast, the smell of which is beginning to fill the small house. Breakfast duties are pretty loose around
the Mercier house. Whoever gets around to it first is usually the one to handle it, and it's rarely anything luxurious outside of the occasional big breakfast thrown together by Francois when he's in particularly high spirits. From Leah's constant teasing it seems as though Francois' more active role in food duties is a recent thing. Truth be told, the passing of Leah's mother was hard on him and left him in a dark place
for a while. Tara's presence, whether she knows it or not, has brought a livliness back to the Mercier household that had been absent for too long. Reignited a spark in the kind old man that Leah feared may have been lost. Waking up to the sounds of voices- the sounds of family- has finally made the quaint little house finally feel like a home. Meals at the dining room table aren't as common as meals in front of the
television, but Francois seems to like eating together. Like a family. So he often uses sneaky little tactics, like setting plates at the table, to try and encourage it whenever he's the one doing the cooking. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But, nonetheless, a trio of plates are set out this morning.
Leah started the day as she always does, running through her workout routine. Outside of the occasional trip to the gym, the weather keeps her routine confined to a mat laid out on the living room floor but, once things warm up, she'll be able to get back to her makeshift, canopied gym out back. Most days she follows her workout by helping with the snow. It can be a lot to deal with. People aren't walking footpaths into the ground
out here and cars don't often come out this way. Shoveling work mostly consists of keeping the porch clear and maintaining a narrow path to the road. Even keeping the small road out of town plowed requires payment from Leah given their remote location on the outskirts, but it's one she's happy to pay to keep a route into town clear in case Jasper is ever tied up and can't bring them to work. But on this morning, as she's
seated on the arm of the couch- dressed in a pair of form fitting black pants with thick, grey wool socks pulled up over them almost to her knees and a matching t-shirt- lacing up her boots to join Tara, a sudden crack outside jerks her attention towards the front door. "What was that?" comes her father's voice from the kitchen, to which she quickly raises one hand, palm outward, in his general direction and shushes him
as she attempts to pinoint the source of the unmistakable noise, brows furrowed. Could be a hunter. It's not entirely out of the question. They do hear the occasional gunshot out here. But this sounded far too close. No competent hunter would be opening fire this close to a house. And it's not like their house is hidden away. It's quite visible, perched atop its hill. But whose to say the hunter needs to be competent?
Unfortunately, all possibilities that they might not be in danger are thrown out the window as the muffled voice is heard. "Fuck!" she exclaims, the implications of the name used far from lost on her. She leaps to her feet, her gaze snapping to her father- who has a look of sheer confusion on his face- as she steps into the kitchen opening. "Get Zoe and get to your room!" she instructs, her voice sharp and clear, carrying an
air of urgency in her tone. The older man opens his mouth to speak but Leah is quick to cut him off. "I don't have time to explain, dad! The shotgun is in your closet! Lock yourself in your bedroom and if anyone steps through that door unannounced you pull the trigger, understand?!" she orders, that switch from 'daughter' to 'soldier' flipped. Her father stares at her in silence, looking frozen in place before she gives a
sharp tilt of her head. "Dad! Tara is still outside! I have to go! Please!" she shouts before her father begins to rapidly nod his head, the fact that something is seriously wrong beginning to settle in on the older man's face. In a brief panic he begins to look around for Zoe as Leah darts down the hallway. With no time to waste, she bounds through her bedroom door, heading right for the nightstand beside her bed where she
keeps Damien's Carnifex. Her Predator is the more familiar firearm to her, but the time it would take digging through her gear crate might be time that Tara doesn't have. So she gives the handcannon a quick once over. Loaded. Safety off. And storms back out down the hall. It's not until she reaches the door that she comes to a stop, having to bring a hand to the wall to halt her momentum. She gives one last glance back to
make sure that her father is out of the potential line of fire. As she sees him scurrying off into the hallway, blue ball of puff fighting in his arms, she draws in a deep breath to clear her mind and hits the door interface, bringing the heavy pistol up as she drops lowers into a more comfortable shooter's stance.
Outside the house, some distance away stand six figures that cast long shadows in the snow. The leftmost is a pale, jittery human girl with bright pink hair. Her jacket lies discarded in the snow, leaving her in baggy cargo pants and a tanktop as she jumps in place, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Next to her is another young human wearing several layers of tattered jackets, and a frayed beanie. She has brown skin, a backpack
with an antenna and her eyes are locked onto her omni-tool interface - she was at the Respite the other day. The suspected hacker. Next to her, the young batarian that was with her in the booth. Dressed similarly aside from an armor vest, and with a beat up Vindicator rifle in his hands, he seems to be arguing with the human man next to him. The human is older, and towers over the others thanks to the armor he's wearing. It looks like a
modified dockworker's exoskeleton with bolted-on armor plating and shield-emitters. He's using one arm to hold Tara in a firm grip in front of him, the other keeping the muzzle of a Carnifex pressed against her temple. She's not struggling, frozen perfectly still despite her feet not even touching the ground. The man's head is bald, tan skin covered in burns that are still healing, judging by their angry red color and the peeling skin around
them. Their pattern is a familiar one - that of a batarian submission net. His face, too, seems familiar, and the person next to him makes him easier to place. A short turian clad in a full hardsuit painted Talon red and gold, albeit with the emblem scratched out. His stance is casual, arms resting on the M-100 grenade launcher that hangs from a strap around his neck. The rightmost member of the group is a vorcha that looks almost as
restless as the pink-haired girl. Maybe it's cold, given it's only wearing some shorts and a pair of omni-claw gloves.
"-didn't say anything about family!" The batarian, sounding upset, his eyes on the man in the exoskeleton rather than the door.
The human lets out a derisive snort and rips Tara's hat off her head, forcefully turning her head to show him the mark on her forehead. "This look like family to you, four-eyes?"
The batarian flinches back a little, looking shocked as his gaze lands on the mark, and then meets Tara's eyes for a second, but he goes quiet, both of them shifting their attention to the door that's opened, the burned human calling out to Leah. "Kept the merchandise for yourself, huh?! That's cute."
Zoe is a nervous mess in Francois' arms. Any attempt to call Redrock (or anyone else for that matter) would unfortunately be met with a connection error. Something is jamming the signal.
Francois is quick to let the squirming critter free once he's safely in his room and the door has been closed and locked. Breathing heavily, he mutters an anxious, "Merde, merde, merde!" under his breath as repeated attempts at contacting Redrock are met with failure. A jamming device never even enters his mind, but he throws his omni-tool onto the bed all the same. "Perfect time for the connection to go sour!" he says in a
Leah levels her weapon on the first person she sees, finger pressed against the trigger. She's only partially exposed, using the doorframe to protect herself. Thankfully, the scene doesn't immediately erupt into gunfire, allowing her to search out Tara. She bites back on the anger that immediately floods her body as she sees the man that she let live holding Tara. The words that leave his mouth cause her to clench her teeth, but
she expels that rage in a breath through her nose, calming her nerves. Not the time for that. Tara is alive. That's enough. "You've made your point. Let her go." she orders firmly, using the calm before the storm to size up her opponents.
The batarian tightens his grip on his rifle, but he looks uneasy, far from eager to fight. His companion from the Respite glances up from her omni-tool briefly, gaze darting from the door to the two men next to her, sharing the batarian's uneasy, but her attention soon returns to her screen. She has no weapon drawn. The pink-haired girl is still bouncing a little in place, hands opening and closing restlessly. She's got a wiry build, and
she's sweating despite being in a tanktop in the middle of winter. One hand reaches up to wipe at some blood that drips from her nose. Her pale skin is covered in a hexagonal pattern of black lines that fades in and out in different places. At first glance it looks like tattoos, but a keen eye would recognize it as a sloppy skinweave job. Red, irritated skin in places hints at her body rejecting the armor weave. The vorcha is drooling and
snarling like an attack dog ready to rush. The turian's expression is hidden behind the visor of his helmet, but he seems the calmest of the bunch. Makes sense - he's the most heavily armed and armored aside from the leader. Speaking of, the burned human lets out a bark of laughter at Leah's order. "Sure thing. Soon as you put the gun down and come out here, sweetheart." he retorts, jabbing the barrel of his Carnifex a bit against Tara's
temple, making her wince in pain, gaze locking onto Leah as her head is nudged forward again. There's fear in her eyes, but it's controlled, sealed away, her face a grim, blank mask.
Leah's green eyes sweep over the group. Six targets. Two obvious threats. The leader- the armor gives him an edge but, more importantly, it's the danger he poses to Tara. And the turian- armored and carrying a weapon that could level the house. The pink-haired girl is an unknown quantity. The lack of weapons makes her think biotic. Bloody nose. Drugs? Minagen maybe. More signs of a biotic. The vorcha might be a problem, but it'd
take time for it to even reach her. Not a priority. The remaining two familiar faces barely even look like they want to be here. And given the quarrel she stepped in on, she'd wager their investment is of the monetary sort. She tsks, giving a little tilt of her head, "Not gonna happen. So how about you let her go and we call it even for me walking out of that building without painting the floor with your brains?" she
offers. Part threat. Part reminder. Part a warning to the others that are with him that things didn't go his way the last time they ran into each other. More than anything, it's an attempt at stalling for time so her father can contact Redrock and she can puzzle this out.
HumanTalon grits his teeth, glaring daggers at Leah. "You ruined my fucking life, bitch! Talons don't like botched deals!" The Carnifex leaves Tara's temple as he gestures at her. "So get the fuck out here before Florrus starts huffing and puffing!" he commands with a nod of his head to indicate the turian with the grenade launcher.
Florrus casually shifts his right hand from on top of the grenade launcher to the grip, although it's still aimed to the side.
The Respite duo exchange a brief, uneasy glance, but the batarian's attention returns to the door, gaze sharp despite his hesitation. He's not about to get caught unaware if Leah decides to take a shot. The girl with the omni-tool can't quite help a glance at Tara, although her eyes dart away just as quickly, a hint of guilt on her face as her attention returns to her omni-tool. She sneaks glances at the door regularly, on edge, well aware
Leah bites down, steely gaze remaining on the group. The last thing she needs is for the turian to start opening up with that launcher. There's no coming back from that. And any aggression on her end needs to be big enough to give Tara a window to make it back to the house safely without them opening fire on her. Not much of a chance of that. Too many guns in play. Still, if murder was their only goal, they would've already opened
fire. Hell, with that M-100, they could've brought the house down before Leah ever even know they were here, so this has to be about more than that. About making a point. Maybe an attempt at unfucking things with the Talons? She draws in a deep breath, allowing a moment to pass, weapon still trained on the turian before her expression softens, green eyes flicking to Tara. "Fine." she says, grip on her Carnifex loosening, as
if to show she's no threat, as she steps into the center of the doorway. "But I'm gonna need you to put her down. Let her start walking back to the house. Once she's half way here?" she gives a small dip of her head, "I'll start making my way to you." She allows a moment to pass before giving a small tilt of her head, "I just-... need to know she's okay. Give me that and I'll-..." she shakes her head, expelling a puff of
breath that turns to mist in the cold air of the doorway, "...go wherever it is you plan on taking me."
Batarian shifts a little as Leah steps into view, stance widening and rifle rising just a little, but her words make his eyes widen a little in surprise, and his gaze briefly leaves her for a puzzled and discomfited side-glance at Tara.
Tara 's fear comes to the forefront as Leah steps into view, a quiet breath slipping out. She shakes her head faintly, the gesture desperate and pleading.
HumanTalon lets out an unimpressed snort, showing no inclination to let Tara go. "Trading yourself for the slave. Right. Don't think so. Florrus?"
Florrus slowly shifts the barrel of the grenade launcher around to aim at Leah in the doorway, the implication clear. Surrender or else.
Crux 's gaze is darting around uneasily, no longer focusing on her omni-tool screen. Leah. The batarian next to her. The man holding Tara hostage. The grenade launcher. The pink-haired girl. Back to Leah. She looks like she's expecting this to go bad at any moment.
PinkHair wipes her nose again and sniffs, hand smeared with blood. She doesn't look like she shares the hesitation of the other two her age, body tense but expression wild and ready to fight. A twitch of her lips flashes rust-colored teeth.
Leah steps out onto the porch, her movements hurried by the turian aiming her way, and lifts the Carnifex with one hand, palm outward, finger no longer on the trigger. "No tricks!" she assures, framed by the open doorway behind her. Her other hand comes up in surrender and she takes another step towards the stairs. "She's not a slave." she continues, gaze briefly shifting to Tara before quietly adding, "...Not anymore." Another
step, slow and careful, not wanting to light the fuse to the powder keg in front of her. "She's family." she adds, eyes flicking towards the batarian she overheard arguing with the man that appears to be in charge. "So just-... let her go and this doesn't have to turn into a bloodbath." she pleads. One last step, which leaves her right at the top of the stairs, hoping it's enough of a 'surrender' for the man in charge to at
least hear her out without putting herself squarely in the open. There's not much cover on the porch either but, if she had to, she could make it work. That grenade launcher, though... "I'll set down my gun and-... and everyone gets what they want, okay?"
Batarian meets Leah's gaze for the brief moment that she looks his way, and it's obvious that the words have an impact. His eyebrows furrow, drawing a long breath and casting an expectant glance up at the man in the exoskeleton. "Take the deal." he says, doing his best to keep his voice steady.
HumanTalon scoffs at Leah's words, but when the batarian speaks up his attention diverts his way. "Don't fucking tell me what to do, tunnel rat." he snaps.
Crux 's gaze darts between the two men next to her and Leah. She's pretty clearly on edge. "Come on, man, just-... just let her go." she says, eyes landing on Tara for a moment again, uneasy frown firmly in place.
HumanTalon shoots the omni-tool girl a warning glare, and then his gaze returns to Leah, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he considers. After a moment he tosses Tara into the snow in front of him, hard, servos in his arm whirring.
HumanTalon flashes Leah a disingenuous smile, Carnifex trained on her now. "Get your ass over here."
Leah's face contorts into a flash of concern as Tara is thrown to the ground, body coiling briefly, as if she's about to run to her, but she's quick to regain her composure. Making sudden movements isn't going to do either of them any favors. So instead she remains right where she is at the top of the stairs. Each breath produces a funnel of steam, but the cold winter air barely even registers to Leah right now. "You're gonna be
fine, sweetheart. You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right?" she comforts from atop the stairs, passing a glare across the group in front of her house. "I just-... Tara, I'm gonna need you to get up and start walking to me, okay?" she continues, urgency behind the gentle tone she attempts to put on for Tara's sake. Cuts and bruises can be mended. But she can't deal with these people while it might still put Tara
in the line of danger. She passes a quick look- little more than a flick of her green eyes- out towards the horizon, hoping for any sign of a shuttle in the distance. Shit. Locking eyes with the man in the exoskeleton, she slowly leans to her left to place her Carnifex on top of the railing that lines the porch, a silent assurance that she's keeping her end of the deal. "Once she's half way to the house." she finally
Tara slowly starts to get up, stumbling down onto her knees upon trying to stand, hands planting in the snow. The second attempt is slower, but successful. She seems dizzy. She starts to walk unevenly towards Leah, but her eyes are full of questioning worry.
Batarian winces a little as Tara is thrown to the ground. He remains very tense as she starts walking, rifle clutched tightly in his hands.
HumanTalon turns one mechanized glove palm up and makes a 'come here' gesture once he deems that Tara has gone far enough, eyes locked on Leah.
Leah offers a few encouraging nods of her head as Tara starts her way. The human's gesture garners another glare, but she begins to comply, taking the steps slowly. She starts towards the group, staying on a trajectory that will bring her into contact with Tara. As they meet, she quickly brings her cold hands up to Tara's cheeks, her green eyes searching the younger girl's face, as if to make sure she's truly unhurt. "It's gonna
be okay, sweetheart." she reiterates, pressing a quick peck against Tara's forehead. "I need you to go inside and lock the door, understand?" she continues, voice low, "And then you're gonna run to dad's room. Let him know it's you before you open the door-... this is very important, okay?" she emphasizes, making sure to hold Tara's gaze as she brushes some snow from the young girl's cheek with her thumb, "And
Tara is shaking as Leah touches her, and there's fear in her eyes, but she listens closely to what she says, nodding at the instructions. Her expression screams 'What about you?' even if she doesn't dare voice the words.
Batarian 's expression is grim and stiff - he doesn't exactly seem thrilled about the whole situation.
Leah opens her mouth to say more as Tara's concern fails to go unnoticed, but the sudden shot cuts her off and causes her to flinch, gaze snapping to the culprit. Her nostrils flare as she pulls in another deep breath, attention turning back to Tara. "I'll be right back." she quietly voices an answer to the young girl's unspoken question. She slips her arms around Tara and gives her a gentle squeeze before pressing one more peck
against her forehead and letting go, snow soon crunching under her heavy boots once more. "I'm coming." she says sharply, her tone giving away that the slaver has long since worn out his welcome.
Tara flinches at the gunshot, but her gaze quickly returns to Leah afterwards. She's frozen in place for a moment, hesitating, but as Leah starts to move she closes her eyes and swallows before hurrying up the stairs and through the door. She's not stupid. She's seen Leah fight and she knows she'd just be in the way. And it's a fight that's coming, she's suddenly very sure of that. So she does as she's told.
Florrus shifts a little, lowering the grenade launcher as Leah starts to get too close to comfortably use it. "Careful, she's a kicker." he comments dryly, voice distorted a bit by the helmet speakers.
Leah offers an insincere smile at the human's words that would be better paired with a middle finger, but she doesn't go that far. She keeps a pace, but she's certainly not sprinting. She's well aware of what she's doing, moving just fast enough as to not further aggitate her aggressors, but slow enough to ensure Tara is inside with time to lock the door long before she reaches the group. And just like that, as the door closes
behind her, they've given up their two biggest pieces of leverage. Tara is out of danger, and Leah is much too close for that grenade launcher to do much good. The biotic and the vorcha will be in striking distance soon, however. That's gonna be a problem. But she'll take that over a grenade launcher any day of the week. The turian's comment draws a raise of her brow, causing her to stop in her tracks. She tilts her head to
one side, putting on a bit of theatrics as she makes a show of looking the turian over while, at the same time, buying a little more time for Tara to make it to the bedroom and, hopefully, bringing Redrock that much closer before the shit hits the fan. She feigns sudden realization after a moment. "Ohhhh. Sorry! I didn't recognize you. You look a lot different when-..." she swipes a hand over the top of her head, as if to
imply the helmet, "...you know-..." she continues with a shrug, meandering towards them once more, "...your face isn't smeared across a wall." A look of amusement briefly enters her smile before she turns her focus to the batarian, giving a lift of her brows and scrunching up her nose as if to say, 'Oops.'
Tara fumbles to lock the door as instructed, and casts one last glance at Leah through the window before rushing off towards Francois' bedroom. She comes to a sudden stop outside. "H-Hello? It's Tara." she says uncertainly.
Florrus ' helmet reveals nothing, but the breath that activates his helmet speakers sounds a bit like a grumble.
Batarian 's gaze darts from Leah to the turian, shifting a little in place as he drums his fingers against his rifle nervously.
HumanTalon 's patience seems to be wearing thin, and he unclips a pair of cuffs from his armor and tosses them to the batarian. "Cuff her." he instructs, apparently having no intention of risking that himself.
Batarian fumbles to catch the cuffs, looking less than thrilled with this. His gaze shifts between the Talon in the exoskeleton and Leah, and then he swallows and lifts his rifle, slowly advancing towards her.
Francois fumbles behind the door for a number of moments, audible out in the hall before the door suddenly slides open. A shotgun is gripped tightly in one hand. It's nothing fancy, just a standard hunting shotgun. The sort that can usually only get a round or two off before it needs to cool. It's unlikely it would so much as test the plating of real armor. The stress is visible on the older man's face, and he's quick to set the weapon
against the wall and tug Tara inside. "Merci!" he mutters to some invisible force, quickly- and carefully- leaning out into the hall to check the hallway. When he realizes Leah isn't with her, he quickly closes the door and embraces Tara in a quick hug before relenting, hands pulling back to her shoulders as a sigh of relief slips out of him. "Merci-..." he begins before realizing he's shifted to his native tongue, as one is want
to do when the mind is racing, "...I was so worried about you. I heard gunshots! Are you okay?!" he asks, pushing the other nagging question to the back of his mind for now.
Leah takes a few more steps towards the group. Positioning is the name of the game now, and she can't risk being too far from them when she makes her move. Close enough that they're on top of each other. It won't be pretty, and she's likely to take some scrapes, but it won't allow them to use their weapons without risking clipping one another. Without her armor, that's far more valuable. She makes eye contact with the batarian
holding the cuffs. The way she holds his gaze is far too confident for someone outnumbered six-to-one. She brings her wrists together and lifts them as she holds his gaze. "Go ahead. RC." she says, emphasizing the nickname the woman beside him just used. Her words don't sound as if she's giving permission. Far from it. It's a threat. A challenge.