In the woods behind the houses

[Nick Sleet]

A steady "Thock... Thock" echoes through the woods, just loud enough to be heard on the main road. Any who approach see the gleam of flashing steel as throwing daggers fly out to strike a target scratched onto a tree. Nick flings the daggers with a single-minded precision, but his clenched jaw reveals a simmering frustration.

[kimp]

:: a throwing star cleaved the air from slightly behind and to the right of Nick. It wedges in the tree just shy of one of his knives and then Liberty's calls out softly ::
On your right.

:: a moment later she steps up beside Nick, her gaze steady on the tree ::
Good balance.
:: that said she slants a glance his way ::
Nice night for practice.
:: a pause, then ::
You're off a little to the right and down. Tension?

:: that said she swings her backpack over her head, couches to dig through it, and pulls out a small cast iron pan. Rising, she swings the pan out to the side and releases it. It just grazes the side of the tree, causing her to narrow an eye and cock her head in that direction. ::
Hmmm...

[Nick Sleet]

Nick whirls into an instinctive crouch as the star goes past, guns appearing in his hands. He relaxes on seeing Liberty, the guns vanishing again into his many holsters.

"Nothing has tried to eat me in the past couple weeks; a little practice in night conditions helps keep the edge up."

He watches with amusement as the pan flies by. "Pan's not properly optimized for throwing."

He pauses for another moment, and acknowledges "And I'm finding it a bit hard to channel my anger without a target."

[kimp]

:: Liberty gives a subtle shrug then strolls over and retrieves the pan. She holds it out to Nick as she returns to his side. ::
It isn't about hitting the target. It's about throwing the pan. There's something innately cathartic in throwing something awkward, heavy, and not meant to be thrown. I dare you to do it and not giggle.

:: she wiggled the pan ::
I don't giggle because a crazy person giggling is disconcerting.
:: a brow lift ::
Yes, I know I'm crazy. To survive what I did you need develop Armor of Craziness. It's a healthy response to an unhealthy reality.

:: Another shrug and she goes quiet for a moment, then says. ::
What are you angry at?

[Nick Sleet]

Nick looks at the pan for a moment. His mouth quirks up and a little tension goes out of his shoulders as he takes the pan and weighs it in his hand.

"Interesting point. Although I remember quite a bit of insane giggling from the both of us last month. Which I suppose proves your point given the looks we were getting."

He weighs the pan again and then hurls it at the tree. It clangs into the lower edge of the target area, falling to the forest floor. A small chuckle escapes him as he watches it fall. The smile slowly drains away as he goes to retrieve it.

"I think it goes back to Ryan's death. He and I both flanked, he got caught out in front, I got pinned in the back. Tactically speaking there was nothing I could do, but I'm angry at myself for not bucking those odds, angry at him for breaking contact, angry at the whole situation!"

"Thock" goes another dagger, still slightly off center.

"I'm not used to working in tactical teams. And I'm damn well not used to feeling guilty over situations I can't change."

A surge of telekinetic force drives the throwing dagger deeper into the tree, closer to the center of the target.

[Nick Sleet]

Nick looks at the pan for a moment. His mouth quirks up and a little tension goes out of his shoulders as he takes the pan and weighs it in his hand.

"Interesting point. Although I remember quite a bit of insane giggling from the both of us last month. Which I suppose proves your point given the looks we were getting."

He weighs the pan again and then hurls it at the tree. It clangs into the lower edge of the target area, falling to the forest floor. A small chuckle escapes him as he watches it fall. The smile slowly drains away as he goes to retrieve it.

"I think it goes back to Ryan's death. He and I both flanked, he got caught out in front, I got pinned in the back. Tactically speaking there was nothing I could do, but I'm angry at myself for not bucking those odds, angry at him for breaking contact, angry at the whole situation!"

"Thock" goes another dagger, still slightly off center.

"I'm not used to working in tactical teams. And I'm damn well not used to feeling guilty over situations I can't change."

A surge of telekinetic force drives the throwing dagger deeper into the tree, closer to the center of the target.

[kimp]

:: Liberty goes utterly still. She doesn't even appear to breath. Then she blinks and the stillness disperses ::
A tactical team?
:: Another pause this one for emphasis ::
We were not a tactical team. We were a disparate group of individuals working towards a common goal.

:: Her tone flattens, inflection gone ::
If we were a tactical team I would have known that you and Rhyan had gone scouting. I would have known where Maxwell was. With a bomb. I would have known where the...
:: slight pause and a subtle drawing of breath through her knows ::
medical types were so our people would have received aid. I would have known who could be called on for a lightning strike to recover someone. I would have known who it was that had fallen, rather than hollering into the darkness and having others screaming at me that we had to leave and we couldn't help and...

:: There is a long, long pause, and then she adds ::
Rhyan was a loss. He was competent. I would have sacrificed a number of others in his place. The thing I find most irritating about this is that we left him. He may have fallen, we may not have been able to stop that, but we did not have to leave him there to be played with by
:: A deep breath through the nose ::
white coats.

:: Another, shorter pause, then in a very calm, indifferent tone ::
If anyone else is as angry as you are, if they are capable of breaking down the situation in the manner you have, then this was not a complete loss. There are things that can be learned from this failure.

The thing that I found most irritating is that no one listens. We are a disparate group who do not work as a team. In a controlled situation, with a team that we pick, we may be more efficient and come out with fewer losses. We can apply what we have learned in those situations, including what you said about communication as well as being aware of each member of our group, where they are, and if they are at risk.

But the more I am around the populace as a whole, the more I realize that we will never be a cohesive unit. There is too much fracturing, too much individuality. I am used to working with people who are trained in tactical maneuvers, who work as a team, who plan and follow structure, who pick leadership on merit, dependent on the mission, and then follow those leaders...

:: She trails off, then picks up the cast iron pan and flings it at the tree. It hits with a satisfying smack and chips of bark fly off. Only after retrieving it does she finish ::

You should be affected by what happened. It's good to pinpoint what went wrong. It is not good to wallow in what-ifs, though. Better to learn from this and move forward, preferably not making the same mistakes again. Determine who you can function well with, who you feel is nothing more than meat shields, and who has value but needs work.

Who would you sacrifice and who would you sacrifice for?

Personally
:: she hauls back and lets the pan fly again ::
I think that you have considerable potential.

[Nick Sleet]

Nick goes and retrieves the pan, turning it over in his hands restlessly.

"That's a large part of my anger; I've been trained to analyze, adjust, and move forward, yet I'm still feeling...something that's holding me back"

His mouth twists in an angry grin.

"Partially it's the situation itself. Because you're right, we're not a cohesive, trained paramilitary force but a collection of amateurs, seekers, and individuals with a wide array of agendas, facing world destroying eldritch shit that shouldn't even exist."

His eyes flare, and he hurls the pan, backed with another telekinetic blast, so hard that it embeds itself in the tree by the handle briefly before dropping down.

"Hah! Nailed it..."

He turns back to Liberty, visibly calmer.

"I agree with you, though about Ryan. That's the core of my anger, though I don't know how long they set the fuse on that bomb."

[kimp]

:: Liberty strides forward to collect the pan from the ground, running her fingers over the sizable divot Nick made in the tree. She slants him a glance, a small smile twitching the corners of her mouth, before rising from her crouch and rejoining him. ::
The blast was contained, to a certain extent. If they survived it with his body intact enough to play with, then I suspect it was intact enough for us to recover

::She looks off into the dark a moment before refocusing and handing the pan back to him. ::

What would you have done differently? i'm talking just you. What actions did you do that failed in some manner, in your mind?

[Nick Sleet]

Nick's eyes briefly close, and when they open his face has a different, dispassionate expression on it.

"Our objective was to find the location for the bomb site. Ryan and I flanked left, communicating to each other that our goal was to scout out the various locations to find the bomb site while the main group distracted and engaged the enemy. While pinned down by the auto lighting device that disrupted our approach, I heard a call come out from our people that the site had been found. I didn't mention that to Ryan, and we both proceeded ahead after the light cut out. I assumed he had rewired his objectives and had heard the same information..." He pauses, his expression changing back to the original faint anger.

"One possible error was that I did not talk with him briefly while we were pinned down to say that we should scrub the mission. We were not equipped to flank Cyborgs. On the other hand, we were trying to maintain operational silence to conceal our approach."

He looks into the trees, flipping a dagger over and over in his hands absentmindedly. "The other failure point was when I lost contact with him; as I was attempting stealth, I couldn't call out to him because that would have blown his cover. Then I was spotted, and had to leg to rejoin the main group. At that point, I should have communicated that he might have been caught behind the lines. I rejoined at the same moment they called the retreat, though, and at that point he was already being executed, so I'm not sure that would have done any good."

He shrugs, turning back to Liberty. "Both are possible failure points, but there's no clear cut error I made that doomed him. Still mistakes... You are right that we should have gone back, especially after we disrupted their programming, but that was more of a group decision and any small group would likely have joined him if they went in without full support."