trans_9 | The Connors say hello meatship!

With his bugout location secure, and now stocked with some food John decided it was time to get some weapons. Carefully he made his way to the armory making damn sure this time that no one else was around. He wasn't going to slip up again like he had at the Vatican.

Scrolling through the weapons in the armory computer he was impressed with the selection. Hell, some of these hadn't even finished being developed before Judgment Day occurred. If he wasn't god only knows where being ordered around by an AI, and it's slave crew he'd almost be happy about it. In a few minutes he had quite the list assembled. Double checking it one more time he submitted it to the computer.

[Access to that quantity of weapons is restricted. Please see the command staff for authorization. Any furthers attempt to retrieve weapons will result in you being locked out of this system until your access is reauthorized by the captain.]

He glared at the machine, and pulled out his computer. Interfacing it with the omnicomm he started searching for an access panel. Finding one he spent several minutes methodically prying it open enough to get to the console's guts. Patching in he began to run through sub systems one by one looking for a way in. Whoever had designed the security hadn't counted on someone for who information warfare was a way of life. Finally he found a crack in the armor. It wouldn't be pretty, and they'd know he'd been here but he didn't have a choice. It was act now, or let this opportunity slip by.

Running the program the computer began to send out the weapons to the caches John had designated. Now all he had to do was move them again so the crew couldn't track them down by just following the digital trail. Hopefully that would keep them guessing long enough for him to slip back to Grand Central unnoticed.

After another couple of hours he'd managed just that. Already he was prepping the weapons, and loading magazines just in case someone was smart enough to pick up his trail.

[ooc: Once again in case anyone wants it the list of weapons John has stolen is here. Once you see the sub-thread you want your pup in go ahead and tag it. I'll leave it to each thread to sort out their posting order. Have fun everyone!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Slapping you upside the head is far more satisfying than yelling, by the way," she said blandly. Sarah just glared at him for a long while. Fine, whatever, he was right, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I could have helped move things and I don't blow shit up all the time."

Just most of it.

"You're going to show me the shit you've learned, right?" Sarah set the gun down and examined the shotgun, her eyes narrowed. "I'm...outdated and in need of a refresher course."

In badass.

Never did he think he'd be giving his mother a refresher course in arms. Looking down at the SCAR in his hands he realized a lot had changed in the twenty years since she died. Had it already been that long now? Setting the carbine down he moved over to the shotgun she was looking at it.

"Thought you'd like that one," he said picking the shotgun up, and clearing it. "M1014 Joint Service Combat Shotgun, 8 plus one capacity, and a picatinny rail on top for optics. It's not quite as temperamental about what you feed it like some semi autos. Take it if you want."

Family bonding over weapons. One of the good memories of his childhood.

"Always had a fondness for shotguns," Sarah said, taking the gun back when he was finished with it. There was nothing like obliteration and knockback when it came to a shotgun, anyway. Made alotta noise, too. The fact that it probably wouldn't jam if she fed it something other than standard rounds was enough to get a quick knife-edge gleam of a smile from her.

She didn't mind the sniper rifles, either, and she was a goddamn good shot with those.

Sarah blinked as she shifted the shotgun, curling her fingers around the metal as she stared off into space for a few moments. Shotguns and she had history. Even now she could feel the heat of the molten metal and the throb of the wound in her shoulder where that metal motherfucker had stabbed her, needled her, tried to break her. He'd failed. She could feel the way her shot gun had felt as she pumped it, shot, reloaded, shot, with one arm--determined to blast that metal bastard to his demise.

She'd been short a bullet, then.

Sarah grimaced. She'd never be short a motherfucking bullet again.

John reached out, and gently put a hand on her arm. It always worried him when she stared off like that. It usually meant she was thinking of his father, or the war. The war she would never see. The one she always had dreams of.

"I remembered that you did that's why I picked it up," he said trying to change the subject back to something more comfortable. Picking up a magazine he started to load it. One by one could be slow, but it also helped prevent damage to the feed lips. Even if security was on it's way it was no reason to rush. Better to have a magazine that worked than an extra one that failed on you in the middle of a firefight.

Sarah grumbled under her breath and slung the rifle over her shoulder, now that she was sure it was loaded and ready for use. She didn't, however, shrug John off but let the contact linger for longer than she might have. There were moments where she...needed the sentimentality, the trace amount of emotion, the mother that was barely there. The quiet and very silent thanks was there. Only John could see it when she meant it.

And then she was all business as she inspected the other weapons as carefully as possible.

"We have any flashbangs?" she asked after awhile. The sun grenades were a nonlethal option she generally favored when it came down to dispersing a crowd and stunning an enemy.

Of course he saw it, and appreciated it. His mother may have been hard on him, but he never questioned her devotion to him. Even if it usually took the form of pushing him to be a great leader. It had payed off in the end.

John shook his head in response to her question. "Couldn't get any. Tried to find some HEDP 40mm too with the same result. It's in there, but it must be controlled by a separate security sub system from the other weapons. Don't think I'm going to get another shot at it though. Might have to watch the Security teams for a couple of days, and see if they pull out some heavy artillery. If they do we can wait till they break 'em down for maintenance, and then sneak off with them."

"I guess telling them all of fuck off isn't an option," Sarah said, her voice dry as the desert without a little raw humor spilling through and slipping away like a passing tumbleweed. "Best bet is that the AI, Skynet, or whatever the fuck it's calling itself, will plug up that exploit in a hurry. Fucking shame. I'm going to have to figure out how to cook up some non-lethal bullshit by my-goddamn-self now."

She scowled and loaded another gun.

"If the motherfuckers let me near a lab." Which was about as likely as someone handing her a crate full of flashbangs. Bastards. "Well, the heavy artillery would be nice, but something tells me either they're gonna pinpoint us via some of this bullshit ring crap," she immediately wanted to try and crush it, " or go pussy on us and break out chemical restraints. Tear gas, knock-out, call it what you will."

"They don't seem to think there's anything to worry about with a fucking AI running the ship that we know has been withholding information, and systems control. Idiots!" He caught himself before he slammed the magazine into the table. Taking a deep breath he set it down, and picked up another. He wasn't happy he almost lost his cool there for a second.

"I can see about finding some chemicals soon. They probably won't have those locked up as tight as the weapons." Another magazine loaded. Calmly he moved onto the next one feeling more of his focus come back from his almost outburst. "If they do roll in here with anything like that we'll deal with it. Been gassed enough times now it doesn't bother me that much."

"Been there myself on a number of occasions," Sarah said, moving onto the next gun with a scowl. "Chemicals would be appreciated." She didn't say a fucking thing about his barely contained anger. It seemed they shared that trait to a tee. Psychotic anti-AI, motherfucking rant on a goddamn stick.

The Connors (And Reeses) did that all too well.

"I think I remember a few of them." The time at Cyberdyne came to mind. "I'll see what I can do. Need to let the heat cool down a bit first. That, and I'm not looking forward to having to fight through a bunch of humans to get to this thing." That really summed up the issue he was having here. He needed more time to plan, to account for this new variable. A human crew wasn't supposed to be a part of this battle plan, and on top of that he was still missing an important piece of the puzzle however. "Have to find where the damn bitch's brains are at first, so we might be here for a while. Can't afford to fuck this up."

Finished with those magazines he started loading the ones for his pistol. It was good he'd managed to find a Mk23 so he didn't have to familiarize himself with another weapon. It saved time he needed for other weapon systems. The SCARs for example were just different enough from the M4s that he'd need some time to build up new muscle memory for them. Always planning for the next strike, always training. That was the Connors in a nutshell, and he'd lived up to it.

"We'll find what we need to find," Sarah said tersely. She was wholly focused on the taske of checking the guns, now. Failure had never been an option and wasn't now. They'd do exactly what they needed to do. "I have no room for fucking up on my schedule today," she added. "If we're careful about this bullshit, we'll be fine. If there is a fuck up..."

She shrugged.

"We'll deal."

The Connors say hello meatship!

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