trans_9 | Possessions Grab AND Meet-up! Let's multi-task!

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Possessions Grab AND Meet-up! Let's multi-task!

While the newly pod-released members of the crew happened to mostly miss each other in the Pod Caverns and the clothing chamber, they all happen to congregate in the Weapons and Possessions Lockers at the same time. This cavernous warehouse of a chamber has shelves and shelves and racks of belongings and weapons that go off as far as the eye can see. Everything from massive sidearms to impossibly huge swords, to Hello Kitty lunchboxes.

Their own belongings are here near the front--they've been moved to make finding them more easy, but it will take a bit of hunting.

Either way, they won't be searching alone. Everyone's piling in at the same time.

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Dean glances next to him when Jo speaks, and finally, he snaps out of the little trance he's been in. Mind control and hostages, and Sam was in the middle of it. Sam might be one of the injured. It's awakening his protective instincts and kicking them into full drive, and he finds himself striding over to River, intending to help command. Dean wasn't much of a follower.

"I've got no objections. But we do need to figure out some sort of organization here before we go off." Dean says loudly, and it feels weird coming out of his mouth. Dean shoots first and asks questions later, but Sam's in potential danger, and he needs to keep his head. To some degree.

"Meaning, all the people who can fight need to be ready to. And I swear to God, if any of you out there find a tall guy with shaggy hair and shoot him, I'll kill you." He growls.

Jean sighs as she listens to everyone beginning to speak. She understood the need to want to act right at that moment because it was normally human nature to want to do something useful. But just because someone wanted that didn't always mean it happened that way.

Her gaze moved from River to Dean before she took a step forward, her gaze coming to rest on woman. "I'm a psychic," she voluteered before turning to look at the rest of the gathered group.

"We need to make a plan of sorts," she declared, raising her voice so everyone could hear her. "We need to figure out who can do what and plan accordingly. We need to work as a team..."

Jean paused, glancing over her shoulder at Dean. "And yes, I understand your devotion to your brother, but leaving this room without a plan could only endanger him, and from your threat... We all know that you don't want that."

Jack glances over at River, then at Dean. They want organization, they'll get it. "Professor Song's got a point," he says, then jerks his head at Dean. "And so does he. Groups, people. One group: ranged weapons! If you have a gun, a bow, can shoot laser beams out of your eyes, whatever, we'll need you near the front, staggered. You have anything that's got a wide area of effect, we need to know about it now. Directly behind them, we need anyone who specializes in up-close and personal damage. Someone gets past our shooters, you need to be ready to pop out and take them down before they do the same to us. If you're naturally armored, invulnerable, or otherwise hard to kill, you get to be out in front, to make sure the shooters have a clear path in. People with no combat experience, you stay behind the fighters. We've got plenty of people equipped for heroics already. And if anyone wants to volunteer for rear-guard, I'd be very grateful."

He's moved to stand with Dean and River, meeting Dean's eyes and nodding briefly. River, he knows, but he's not interested in getting on someone's bad side at first meeting. Not trying to play alpha dog here. Just elaborating on your plan. "Anyone's got problems with that plan, say it now, not when we're moving."

And then he pauses, glances at River again, speaking softly. "And you stay behind me." That's not a request. He can't die -- she can. And watching his big sister get killed isn't his idea of a good time, even if they haven't spoken for over two thousand years, by his reckoning.

Sentinel hefted his lance and shield. "I can hit harder than most, but where does this fit into your limited classification system, organic? Sentinel Prime, transform!"

Gears and servos clanked and twisted, as Sentinel transformed into his alt mode.

"...what?! This isn't right! I'm still in that inferior 'Earth' form! What happened to my beautiful Cybertronian vehicle mode?!" He positively fretted. Nevermind the fact that he was still 'scaled down', even in vehicle mode.

Superman stepped forward. "I have both ranged attack and invulnerability, along with levels of speed and strength I would imagine are unmatched in the room. Moreover, I know our target and his capabilities. With all due respect to the rest of you, I'm requesting to take point in going in."

Jean closed her eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. This was going to get interesting with so many people wanting to take charge.

"This is great that everyone wants to lead.... But the longer we sit here and debate and volunteer? The longer it takes us to get to the Medical Bay." She finally said as she reopened her eyes.

"I could care less about being in charge, ma'am." Superman said. "I'm just saying that I can take a hit and I have experience with Brainiac. I'm ready if everyone else is."

"Riiight," Sawyer said with a cocky grin as he lit yet another cigarette. "Well, while you kiddies stand around and finish pickin' dodge ball teams," he snarked, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he spoke. "I'm gonna go take a look around this beast and figure out what's what."

With a quick nod, he started toward the door, ready to leave the bickering gaggle behind. "Keep in touch!" he added, mockingly, giving them an exaggerated wave as he disappeared around the corner.

Jack Spicer doesn't like this at all. He doesn't even have a Jackbot with him, much less the several dozen that he wishes he did. On top of that all this talk about fighting isn't exactly easing his nerves. Alright, for lack of anything better he'd believe whatever these AI's were telling them was true. For now. If that was the case, there were people running around with guns and who knew what, and they were probably pretty capable of killing one teenager. Even a teenager with a helipack and the Monkey Staff.

His chances of survival, he concludes, are best with the group. For now. Not that he likes it.

"Good luck with that," he snarks at Sawyer's retreating back before he finally, grudgingly, speaks his mind. "I'm not going on the front lines, no way. You said he locked the place down? How do we get in?" Jack certainly knows a thing or three about breaking other peoples' security systems.

"The MedBay is located at the bottom off the Hub, which you've already been through. A straight drop. You'll be lowered down. The door to MedBay will likely need to be broken down."

Andromeda arches an eyebrow at the assembled.

"Don't worry. Judging from your profiles, you have the firepower."

Lights appeared along the floor leading back to the transport tubes they'd come from.

"You have a plan," says Andromeda. "It's time to move."

Medbay is thataway, folks.

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Possessions Grab AND Meet-up! Let's multi-task!

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