09-25-2019, 12:08 AM
(Written with the awesome guidance of [nation] Lauchenoira[/nation])
"So how do you like Bjeorg?" Abbie Foster asked as she walked along the road next to Shawn Patterson, allowing him to lead her. She kept her tone flirtatious even as inside she wanted to roll her eyes at the entire situation.
He grinned. "It's better than I thought it would be". He winked. "So, what do you do here in Bjeorg?" His accent made the word Bjeorg sound like 'Borg'.
"Oh, I'm a receptionist. At the local police station," she said, tripping slightly on purpose and using it as an excuse to grab his hand to steady herself. "Oops! I'm really clumsy!".
He put her arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, baby. I'll help you". He said in a deep, seductive whisper.
"Okay!" she giggled again, letting the pitch of her voice rise slightly as they continued to walk.
Shawn took Abby a few streets further downtown, to where the Eirian Army camp was set up. There were tents for cots, a field hospital, a strategy tent, even a Recreation tent. Shawn led her into a back entrance of the area that the Eirian Army was granted for a storage area. It was a converted, dead end alleyway, with boxes of rations, ammunition, and spare uniforms piled up. "All right" He says, unbuttoning his shirt. "Now, wha-".
Abbie quickly stuck a cloth over Shawn's mouth, pushing him against a wall and twisting his arm painfully. He began to feel sleepy, struggling against her futilely until he finally slumped down the wall. When she was sure he was unconscious, she dragged him into a corner, hiding him behind some ration boxes.
She rifled through the spare uniforms until she found one approximately her size, and undressed quickly, visibly relaxing once the uniform was on and her previous un-Kerlian clothing was discarded. She checked all her concealed weapons were loaded, and was grateful to have an excuse to carry one visibly as well.
She began to make her way around what passed for the Eirian barracks, giving a death stare to anyone who looked at her too closely in an attempt to frighten them off, and avoiding anyone high ranking. She made notes of their numbers, visible supplies and level of morale, storing the information in her excellent memory.
Suddenly, Abby saw an Eirian patrol heading down the street. She ducked into a doorway to avoid detection. It was just a normal patrol, so she was about to leave, until she saw two Soldiers sneaking from the back of the patrol down a different street, double checking to make sure they weren't spotted. Curious, and having already gathered all the information she could without taking excessive risks, she began to follow them. She kept to the shadows, making sure to vary her pace so she didn't match theirs exactly. She wanted to know what they were up to - and if this would be useful to her.
She followed them around town. They took backroads and alleys, and were very careful to avoid patrols. They turned down a small alley, and suddenly stopped. "You know," the one on the right said. "It's not polite to follow people".
And both of them turned on their heels, pistols in hand.
"So how do you like Bjeorg?" Abbie Foster asked as she walked along the road next to Shawn Patterson, allowing him to lead her. She kept her tone flirtatious even as inside she wanted to roll her eyes at the entire situation.
He grinned. "It's better than I thought it would be". He winked. "So, what do you do here in Bjeorg?" His accent made the word Bjeorg sound like 'Borg'.
"Oh, I'm a receptionist. At the local police station," she said, tripping slightly on purpose and using it as an excuse to grab his hand to steady herself. "Oops! I'm really clumsy!".
He put her arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, baby. I'll help you". He said in a deep, seductive whisper.
"Okay!" she giggled again, letting the pitch of her voice rise slightly as they continued to walk.
Shawn took Abby a few streets further downtown, to where the Eirian Army camp was set up. There were tents for cots, a field hospital, a strategy tent, even a Recreation tent. Shawn led her into a back entrance of the area that the Eirian Army was granted for a storage area. It was a converted, dead end alleyway, with boxes of rations, ammunition, and spare uniforms piled up. "All right" He says, unbuttoning his shirt. "Now, wha-".
Abbie quickly stuck a cloth over Shawn's mouth, pushing him against a wall and twisting his arm painfully. He began to feel sleepy, struggling against her futilely until he finally slumped down the wall. When she was sure he was unconscious, she dragged him into a corner, hiding him behind some ration boxes.
She rifled through the spare uniforms until she found one approximately her size, and undressed quickly, visibly relaxing once the uniform was on and her previous un-Kerlian clothing was discarded. She checked all her concealed weapons were loaded, and was grateful to have an excuse to carry one visibly as well.
She began to make her way around what passed for the Eirian barracks, giving a death stare to anyone who looked at her too closely in an attempt to frighten them off, and avoiding anyone high ranking. She made notes of their numbers, visible supplies and level of morale, storing the information in her excellent memory.
Suddenly, Abby saw an Eirian patrol heading down the street. She ducked into a doorway to avoid detection. It was just a normal patrol, so she was about to leave, until she saw two Soldiers sneaking from the back of the patrol down a different street, double checking to make sure they weren't spotted. Curious, and having already gathered all the information she could without taking excessive risks, she began to follow them. She kept to the shadows, making sure to vary her pace so she didn't match theirs exactly. She wanted to know what they were up to - and if this would be useful to her.
She followed them around town. They took backroads and alleys, and were very careful to avoid patrols. They turned down a small alley, and suddenly stopped. "You know," the one on the right said. "It's not polite to follow people".
And both of them turned on their heels, pistols in hand.
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