Arrival of the Council Inspection Committee

[deluca]

Closed to: Dimitri & Vladma

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"Give them time! When, pray tell, will we have given them enough time? This inspection has been a long time in coming, so someone had best volunteer themselves for the task of conducting it this instant!"

Though the topic of discussion was one familiar to him and Ambrose had, for all outward intents and purposes, seemed to be feigning a polite interest whilst his mind toiled away elsewhere on greater tasks for the better part of the last hour and a half while the council conducted its 'discussion' on the matter, the tension from which had finally mounted enough to reach its point of culmination, the dracoswan had to admit that with that sudden outburst by the usually quiet councilman, his full attention had been arrested. Perhaps, he thought briefly, this was something that he ought to have looking into beforehand...something that he ought to take a look into...personally.

"If I may suggest another course of action, let them come here. Send for the Chief of the Angels' Armory in the name of the people. He will come." The implied, and it will save us a trip, that hung in the air between them made Ambrose frown, a delicate down turning of lips that didn't suit his features in the least bit.

"Sending an ambassador is the most neutral course of action. If we impose upon them now, tensions will only continue to rise and that is not the goal of this exercise," the first councilman countered, clearly quite satisfied with his line of reasoning.

"That is all very well," the second conceded before continuing, "but who, of us, has the time to conduct such an appraisal of their workings?"

Finally, Ambrose decided that enough was enough. Possessing both the time and now the singular interest required for the task, if for slightly different reasons than his fellows, the youngest of the ambassadors clear his throat in the silence that followed his fellow's retort.

"If the council will permit, I would be more than glad to take charge of the inspection committee, and I can do so posthaste if it would satisfy the will of the people and ensure the furtherance of their protection, though I'm sure it will prove to be adequate by all means." Many were unsure of whether it was the soft but sure tone his words had been delivered, or the disarming smile that had accompanied it, or perhaps it was simply the fact that few others had both the time and the temperament for such a job, but that had been the deciding factor. Ambrose had appointed to lead the inspection committee and his first stop was going to be the most heated point of discussion, the Angels armory.

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Once everything had been cleared with the Angels and their clearance into the compound had been authorized, Ambrose led his team onward, slowing as he neared the door behind which he knew the armory to reside. He had studied the surprisingly detailed facility maps that the Council kept on file under lock and key, as the old saying went, and had spent much of the previous day before the inspection was to commence researching the locations of each of the key areas that he would need to be able to locate, as he preferred to be able to do so without a guide. A guide, as he saw it, would only hinder his progress and the inspection as a whole. That being said, after assuring those Angels accompanying them that he wouldn't stray from the armory until they returned, he sent the rest of his team on their way and approached the large doors that served as the entrance to the armory proper.

What he saw inside was...unexpected to say the least, and the immediacy of the overall experience sent him reeling.

[Raron]

There were shouts of panic, curses of pain, and screams of anger ringing out through the armory. The usual calm, gun obsessed atmosphere was tainted with the strong smell of gunpowder and the scent of copper. In the distance a loud sound reverberated repeatedly, it seemed to be approaching the council member who had just entered the doorway. Furres around him dived for cover screaming at the council member with indistingusable words. Torn clothing waved to him from under covers, screams and curses mingled in the room... and then from the rafters descended the undisputed master of this domain. He swung in wildly from a cable attached to a girder, his rows of razor sharp teeth parted, his slime coated skin glistened in the halogen lights, and from his lips sprang a command.
"GET DOWN YOU LAMEROCK!"
Without giving the council member time to understand what was shouted at him or to recover from the sight of a eel monkey wearing only a towel around his waist swinging towards him he let go the rope and accelerated towards the ground. Hitting the ground Dimitri pounced the council member, his right top hand gripping the furre's face and pushing it to the floor. Dimitri landed on top of him and keeping the other furre's face pushed to the floor he grumbled.
"I remember when visitors knew what 'get down' meant. What are they teaching people nowadays?"
As he ranted six inch metal darts impacted across the wall proving that if the furre had not experienced the impact of the armory chief he would be suffering from a fatal overdose of iron. The chief continued his laments of the lack of common sense of the visitor using words such as 'procedure' and 'responsibility' not letting the pinned furre get a word in edgewise. Then suddenly the rapid fire retorts ended and a hush fell over the armory. In the distance a quivering voice remarked.
"I... I think it's it's... out of a-a-ammo..."
Without warning Dimitry stood to his full height and looked at the furre he had pinned.
"Excuse me a second I have to beat a safety lesson into one of my recruits who ever you are."
His teeth were still beared and anger creased his features. He turned away and stomped his hind hands hard on the metal floor. Each step bringing him closer to his target. His voice rang out into the room.
"What is the first commandment of the armory?!"
The response came from every throat in the armory, spoken at once and with a canter that suggested it had been spoken often and with great reverence.
"THOU SHALT KEEP THE SAFETY ON THE LADIES WHEN NOT FIRING AT A DESIGNATED TARGET!"
The chief keep up his slow angry pace and snapped out another query.
"What is the second commandment?"
Once more the armory resounded with the voices of it's members.
"THOU SHALT NOT FRACKEN FORGET THE FIRST COMMANDMENT ON PAIN OF PAIN!"
The furre rounded a corner and gazed upon a large armadillo holding a NC-164 Splinter gun. His grip was tight and he gazed upon his chief with fear and shame.
"So tell me Kyle... What possessed you to take off the safety on Madaline here and then carelessly drop her to the floor setting off a chain reaction that almost fatally injured you fellows?"
The armadillo looked to the chief and then to the gun and back again. There was no trace of the funny and odd chief. This was a figure of wrath standing before him and even though he towered over the hybrid his knees knocked together as he gazed upon the barely contained rage within the smaller furre.
"Um.. well..."
"WRONG ANSWER!!!"
The hybrid launched himself into motion, his legs springing him towards the hard armored furre's face. He pulled the gun from him and threw it to a furre standing by the sidelines who grabbed it before it could hit the floor as Dimitri went nuts. Again and again he struck. His hands met armor but were not detered. They struck joints, a nostril here, an eye there. He grabbed the furre with his feethands and then pounded on the back of the armadillo with a double handed grip. Without mercy he attacked and finally he stopped. The armadillo lay beaten to a pulp there had been no defense against the chief's frenzy. A broken nose, two black eyes, broken ribs, and ripped off armor platting, he lay dazed and confused as Dimitri climbed off him. The chief jerked a thumb behind him at the one known as "Kyle".
"Get him to the medics... Tell them they can skip the pain relievers."
Two furres responded and dragged the furre away as Dimitri dusted himself off and walked back towards his visitor. His face morphing in an instant from rage to curiousity. He adjusted his shirt which proclaimed that in fact "guns don't kill furres. The furres I equip with guns kill furres." For a moment he starred at the Furre and then he extended one of his hands.
"I am Dimitri. How may I help you?"

[deluca]

The impact came an instant too soon after the initial shout for him to get down had been given. The meaning of the words themselves, even delivered as they had been, with an insult borne by a necessary impatience, failed to register in time for Ambrose to move himself out of harms way, but instead allowed time for recognition of the threat about to be ejected his way. Surely, he thought in a dim part of his mind as the world seemed to slow around him before once again speeding to a breakneck pace, as though it intended to race him to an early grave, those darts would rip into him without mercy, perhaps puncture a vital organ, resulting in his lying in a puddle of his own blood as it oozed out into and around him.

As much as he might have wanted to prevent such a thing from happening, once everything began to move around him, he seemed helpless to do anything more than stare, wide eyed, at the weapon as it fired.

The sound of the first round of ammunition being unloaded was deafening, coming in tandem with an unexpectedly sudden impact with the ground. One moment he was staring at certain death, registering the inevitable, coming to terms with what a lack of knocking before entering was going to cost him, and the next his attention was being drawn away to an odd sight caught by his periphery, a furre in a towel rocketing toward him from above. And then he was lying sprawled out haphazardly upon the hard ground, a heavy body pinning him and effectively rendering him immobile as he struggled to draw in a breath to replace the wind that had been knocked from him upon impact.

That was certainly not how he'd been expecting this inspection to begin, though he had been warned to be on his guard whilst perusing the Angels' facilities and now, he supposed, he would simply count this as a lesson meant to be taken to heart.

As though the initial greeting, complete with being pounced and having his face shoved against the floor, hadn't held enough of a shock factor in and of itself (and that was discounting the addition of apparent injury and/or death after entering the armory proper), as Ambrose righted himself and pressed the undersides of claw tipped digits against his heaving chest where his lungs continued to burn as he took in large gulps of air to satisfy them, his watched as the furre responsible for nearly shooting him was beat upon until he could no longer stand under his own power.

That, in and of itself was something that Ambrose immediately filed away in the back of his mind. After all, one never knew what it might be necessary to know. That the Chief of the Angels armory had a hot temper might very well end up being one of those need to know things in the coming days....or minutes if he were to have a decent conversation with the man after what had just happened. However, given the stern lecture delivered in harsh tones that had been delivered directly before the beating, Ambrose had a mind to think that the man was fair enough in his dealings, even if the young ambassador couldn't bring himself to personally agree that the Chief's violent reaction had been an entirely sensible one. Ambrose, after all, abhorred what struck him as senseless violence, and to the degree that it had been dealt out, this most certainly fell into that category as far as he was concerned.

That too was pushed aside in favor of business as his heartbeat returned to its usual slow thumping, beating out a familiar rhythm, and his breathing evened out.

By the time Dimitri turned his attention on the snow white furre, Ambrose seemed fairly composed despite the unexpected ordeal that he had just gone through. A few ruffled feathers here and there revealed silvery scales just beneath them in places, but most had been smoothed back into place. He was presentable if nothing else, and that was all, he decided, should be expected of him. That and anything that couldn't be smoothed over by his appearance itself, was sure to be smoothed over by the rich chuckle that escaped passed his lips.

"While this may not be the time, I believe one more ought to be voiced, given the full scope of the situation," he began, his expression quickly sobering for effect as he continued in a grave manner that was completely at odds with the warmth in the bright blue gaze that peered at the Chief through a black ring-like mask. "Thou shalt knock before entering, lest thou wish'st to be pumped full of iron." And, with that, Ambrose offered Dimitri a delicately clawed hand and flashed him a quick smile of thanks to let the other know that he appreciated the efforts undertaken to save him a good deal of pain.

"Pleased to meet you Dimitri, that's quite the impressive arsenal you have there, though I'll admit that I didn't expect to be able to witness it such a...personal manner" he blinked almost as if he'd momentarily lost his train of thought, his gaze briefly flicking away to travel over the weapons surrounding them on all sides, before continuing. "I suppose I should explain why I'm here. I'm Ambrose DeLucia, Council appointee in charge of the Inspection Committee, if that gives anything away." he refrained from asking to see anything right away. It would seem that he'd seen enough equipment in action for now, at the very least.

[Raron]

Dimitri blinked as he shook the hand at his fellow hybrid and as he let go the swan dragon's delicate hand he tapped his lower jaw with his right foot and then looked over his shoulder and opened his toothy maw in a shout.
"YO! CASSIE DO WE KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT AN INSPECTION?"
A leopard anthro popped her head over a box and sighed loudly.
"Sir... if you are not gonna read the papers we give you I don't know why we bother."
Dimitri glared at her.
"You know I can't be bother with every piece of paper the council and the upper angels send our way. If I did that then I would never get anything done. If I made a fort from all the papers they send our way I could probably stop a low calibur machine gun with the wall easy... maybe even a..."
Dimitri looked back at the feathered antrho before him.
"So... inspection. Mind telling me what all this is about? I mean I almost have the bugs worked out of the 92C spark grenades, the ammo set for a A class mission has to be approved, I have to check out a new angel on a personal gun for her mission and I think we may have a vermin infestation."

[Vespa]

Well that was a bust. She was only on his tail for 23 and a half hours to watch him get beaten to death in a gang fight. There wasn't much she could do to stop it, not that it'd help her any. It just mean this last run was easy and easy runs always made Vladma a special kind of happy. She doesn't always return to the armory with a song announcing her presence.

From off in the distance the armory could hear the jolly tune echo off the cold metal walls. It was one of those traditional tunes no one ever hears unless it's from her mouth. From inside the armory a unanimous sigh of relief heaved the tormented beast. Vladma was home; if anyone could find order it was probably her. And just in time too.

Her song was abruptly interrupted by a joyous and astonished laugh. She was by no means surprised to see the large dents beaten into the doorway. The funnier sight was the very proper looking furr still standing amidst the carnage. Whatever happened he should be glad he's still breathing. Soon enough the giggling feline approached behind him and peered around the armory. Still spreading slowly on the floor was the pool of blood. She chuckled and shook her stooping head. Someone clearly messed up. Unfortunately her ears weren't as keen as her eyes, or maybe she just didn't understand the word 'inspection'.

“Haha, vat nao, someone eat grrrenad?”

Her arm plopped across their guest's shoulders and she leaned against him. She wasn't acutely aware of his strength or balance, either way he was now a leaning stump. A hearty pat to his chest was an odd equivalent to a hand shake or a greeting.

“Alrrready send rrreplacement! They get faster no?”

Her arm sqeazed him a few times to shake the poor man up.

"Only little skinny. Vill haff to fatten up, make big muscle. An teach not eat grranade."

[deluca]

Given a trade in places, Ambrose briefly wondered if one of the other, more reserved furres on the council wouldn't have thought the order of the world had been unbalanced. To be knocked out of harm's way as a greeting would have likely brooked a chilly reaction from many of his constituents whom, he was quite sure, would have insisted that they could have gotten themselves out of the way in time, even if such boasts would have been blatant lies. There was little that was not done for the sake of honor these days...and the rest of the lot of them would have had to hold their tongues or risk accusations of impropriety. Of course, should his own mishaps manage to make into into the print of the report, not chuckling a bit would have been considered a form of blatant favoritism. Luckily, he was often of a mind not to notice and had not brought anyone else from the team into the armory with him.

However, even Ambrose was shocked by the lack of foreknowledge the armory's chief had regarding the commencement of the inspection. Though, when the reason for such a lack was announced by an exasperated leopard, the young ambassador shook his head. Things were shaping out to be a lot more interesting than he'd been expecting, though he wasn't sure if it would end up being to his benefit or to his detriment just yet.

Tilting his head ever so slightly , he pondered meanings behind the model names of the various weapons that were listed as Dimitri questioned him about the purpose of the inspection. He was unfamiliar with weaponry as a whole, having never needed much in the way of combat training, just the odd self-defense class, and that was all about the balance and use of the body to direct the force of an attacker. It had never delved into the use of anything mentioned by the hybrid and Ambrose couldn't help but find himself intrigued by their mention.

"The council would like an updated list of all weapons currently within your arsenal....Actually, I'll admit that I have very little personal knowledge regarding the proper specifications for any sort of weaponry and, while I was given a checklist regarding such things, well..." he paused a moment, as though unsure before continuing. "If you ever have the time to spare, do you think you could give me a proper introduction to the usage of a few of these pieces?"

He was about to continue when an arm was suddenly flung over his shoulder and he found himself being used as some sort of furre resting post. His eyes widened as the female in question patted his chest.

It was yet another sign that these people had grown up in a very different world...Years ago he'd gotten over being touched and handled, working with children tended to do that to a furre in a short amount of time, but the unthinking quality, the swiftness with which these individuals, whom he had just met, had lain their hands upon him, and the manner in which they had done so still managed to off balance him a touch. The feline in particular had approached him with such familiarity, such boldness. He half wished his childhood playmates had done the same 9you could tell a lot about a person by how they handled, or man-handled another furre, after all), but such things were considered improper. There, were, of course, the occasional boyhood tussles, minor ones, never meaning anything in particular, and the odd explorations of budding intimacy, but more often than not he'd found himself secluded, kept like a prize or a prisoner until he'd been submitted to rigorous schooling that had left him little time for such idle comforts.

Needless to say, it took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did he somehow managed to keep the shock of her assumption from showing on his features. "While this is a noble profession, I'm afraid you are mistaken. I am otherwise employed as a member of the Council," he replied with a deliberate politeness, though it did not seem to brook any of the usual unfriendliness that might have come with it under other circumstances, for here things had fast become too personal, too real and raw to ignore, and he felt that any coldness on his part was neither needed nor justified. It was decided. He was among good people.