(no subject)
Who: Smoker [ brandedjustice ], Shi-Long Lang [ justicefangs ], and Uchiha "Tobi" Madara [ obfuscater_tobi ] quickly following. At the Docks: Spike Spiegel [ 7livesleft] and Natalia [ itsuwarino_hime ]
What: Man down, justice team comes to investigate.
Where: Anima destruction area => Docks; Task Force HQ
When: Now?
It wasn't as if Smoker wanted to live Spike alone; actually, it was harder for him to agree to this little meeting than he let on. Watching his co-commander fall, then having to flee from battle - it wasn't exactly settling well in the Marine's stomach. Evident was his failure by the sheer fact that he couldn't even protect Spike; it was history repeating over and over and had he been a different sort of man, he wouldn't have stepped through that door.
But duty never stopped. Failures fell to his "file later" folder and he pressed on. Hands slid through the white-leather bindings of a coat and the jitte found its holster. To his feet was the same bird as before; it looked dejected, as if the wound it was carrying was more than just damaged flesh and bone. The Commodore gave one glance to it, regarded it with some reserve, then headed out.
He was on site with no real recollection of how he got there; his mind was wrapped in other things, worried about other people. One person out of so many, does that even matter? It did when it came to life and death; though existence was suspended here, it did not mean that dying didn't matter. Smoker frowned and reached for two cigars. They found his mouth a beat later and were lit in desperation. An inhale sent familiar smoke into lungs that would not take damage, could not take damage. Smoker folded his arms over his chest.
"...easily replaced...."
The words stung in his mind.
What: Man down, justice team comes to investigate.
Where: Anima destruction area => Docks; Task Force HQ
When: Now?
It wasn't as if Smoker wanted to live Spike alone; actually, it was harder for him to agree to this little meeting than he let on. Watching his co-commander fall, then having to flee from battle - it wasn't exactly settling well in the Marine's stomach. Evident was his failure by the sheer fact that he couldn't even protect Spike; it was history repeating over and over and had he been a different sort of man, he wouldn't have stepped through that door.
But duty never stopped. Failures fell to his "file later" folder and he pressed on. Hands slid through the white-leather bindings of a coat and the jitte found its holster. To his feet was the same bird as before; it looked dejected, as if the wound it was carrying was more than just damaged flesh and bone. The Commodore gave one glance to it, regarded it with some reserve, then headed out.
He was on site with no real recollection of how he got there; his mind was wrapped in other things, worried about other people. One person out of so many, does that even matter? It did when it came to life and death; though existence was suspended here, it did not mean that dying didn't matter. Smoker frowned and reached for two cigars. They found his mouth a beat later and were lit in desperation. An inhale sent familiar smoke into lungs that would not take damage, could not take damage. Smoker folded his arms over his chest.
"...easily replaced...."
The words stung in his mind.