[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Humboldt-Toiyabe ((Nathan))

[Cassandra Cassidy]

WEEK 3, DAY 6

Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest, NV

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Lean mule deer grazed on the shrubby, patchwork green at the edge of a cluster of mountains. Ponderosa pines, some older than the century itself, stood in gaggles on the many slopes. Mountain brush gathered around them and under copses of oak and mahogany. Birds flocked to the watering holes and glacier-melt at the heart of these pockets of flora. Voices drifted in the distances, echoing up and down the mountains from the many trails. Hikers ascended and descended the many winding, manmade paths, some better-equipped than others.

It was a weekend, and the hot, sunny day had attracted families and loners alike to the Ruby Mountains. The odd jam of humans choked the trails, usually from tourists stopping en masse to take pictures. It was still early yet, and already the rangers were preparing for a busy day. The developed campgrounds were full of one-day users, the dispersed campgrounds seeing their own steady trickle of people. Several RVs had pulled into the area, some redirected to proper mobile camping areas. At least one wedding shoot was happening in front of a scenic mountain view, and a research team was collecting geological samples. There was a low hum of energy to the park, the rhythm of footsteps and the chatter of voices growing as morning went on.

Not everyone was content to stick to the trails and put up with this. Thought ill-advised by many, some adventurous souls went off-route to experience the wilds. Armed with map, compass and sometimes a GPS, some of these people didn't know what they were doing. Some might wander around for a bit, meditate, take pictures, gawk at the beauty and splendor of nature.... And then wonder which way the trail back was, or how far they were from it. These people might get picked up by rangers, or find their way back by dumb luck, or camp out and hope for the best. Some, if poor luck befell them, might not ever see civilization again.

For those that did know what they were doing, it was quite the opposite. Though called a National Forest, Humboldt-Toiyabe had brush, scrub forests, riparian woodlands, alpine tundra, and more. It had to be the most diverse spot in Nevada when it came to types of flora. Wildflower meadows swept across valley floors while lonely pines clung to rocky outcroppings. Scrubby, dry steppes contrasted with cirques holding bowl-like lakes, framed by snow-covered mountains. Mountain goats, stags and bighorns traversed its diverse cliffs, marmots peeking out from cracks and crevices in sun-bleached stone. It was a wonderful place to get away from the hustle and bustle of places like Las Vegas, which wished they could glitter as the sun on a glacial lake did.

Who might find themselves in such an idyllic wilderness on this bright, cloudless day?

[Nathan Walker]

Ever since he could remember, Nathan had one lesson driven into him by his parents, grandparents, uncle, hell especially the military.

“Proper Planning Prevents Poor Performance”

And while one could not anticipate every challenge thrown one’s way, like there being a traffic jam two blocks down the street, or some suit in the CIA forgetting to mention that a certain warlord you were sent to capture had just entered into marriage pact with his former rival granting him two hundred extra guns defend his compound with, if you did your homework and came prepared, you usually came out on top at the end of the day.

Like taking a secondary route. Or calling in that flight of F-35’s orbiting overhead to take out the group APC’s parked in front of the warlord’s gates.

This preparation extended to when Nathan was off duty. For today, he was preparing for a different type of hunt. Deer season was going to be coming up sooner than later, and so he was out at Humboldt-Toiyabe to scout the area. Growing up they had mostly hunted on private land, save the occasional trip onto public land when the State had set the bag limit higher than normal in an effort to thin out whatever animal population that was in season. But since joining the military, Nathan had learned to make do with public land. It made little difference to him in the end. Hunting was hunting, deer season was deer season. And that meant that scouting had to be done to inform his decisions as to what rifle, gear and other items to bring along.

As he moved up one of the trails dressed in cargo pants, boots and a light jacket Nathan was looking around, making a note of what he saw in a small notebook. There was a pair of light binoculars around his neck which he used to observe the animal populations from far off, taking note of where they liked to congregate. This was the most normal thing he had really done since coming to Omega One, if what he did was considered normal. Meeting aliens, teaching one of them about Earth, if he had told his grandfather about this the old man would have chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

As he stopped to watch a herd of mule deer about two hundred yards off, Nathan shrugged the light backpack off his back and pulled out a water bottle and bag of beef jerky, taking a piece followed by a sip of water.

Well, at least things seemed to have normalized by now...

[Cassandra Cassidy]

The trail snaked through an open patch of scrub on a hill. A sloping, white-and-gray cliff surrounded either side of the trail. Stiff, bushy trees both needle- and leaf-bearing dotted the rocks and gathered at the edges. Spiny, green-yellow brush stuck out at all angles, the patches broken up by large boulders. Stones both flat and round, ranging in size from a fist to a backpack, often broke through the dry dirt. If he crested the hill and went down its short slope, he'd come to a small, glass-clear lakeside. It was one of several this trail led to, which curved in a jagged oval through the mountains and two peaks.

There were about twelve mule deer in the herd nearby, all busy grazing on bushy wildflowers. Seven were does with nothing at their sides, all muscular and healthy with sleek coats. One was visibly pregnant, looking ready to bear fawns in less than a month. Four had already had theirs, with one lucky doe having a set of twins to handle. The babies were either frolicking or eating, one glancing in Nathan's direction. A couple of the females looked up from their forage, staring at him with soft, round eyes.

Then there was the buck. It was an average buck, neither too big or too small, with eight points on its thin set of antlers. Head turned in Nathan's direction, it stepped into the shade of a pine, attention focused. Nearby was a yearling with a small set of spikes, who was likely to have a doe drive it away soon to make room for fawns. The buck turned to look at the other male, taking a couple of steps forward, and the yearling shied and trotted away.

All in all, things were normal. The wilderness was quiet. There were no armed guards hiding in the copses of trees, behind the bends in the trail, or in the nooks of cliffs. No thousand-ton robots crushed the many hardy plants underfoot. It was Nathan alone who stood there, surrounded by beauty and short bursts of birdsong.

Something cracked in the nearby bush. It was a slow, gradual crk-crack, as if something had put too much weight on a dry twig without noticing. A couple of the deer looked up, followed by a few others. The source of the noise was close to Nathan - likely less than fifty or sixty yards. Whatever it was, it made such a simple sound as stark as a gunshot. The trail didn't descend into total quiet, but the birds nearby stopped singing.

[Nathan Walker]

Nathan did not dive to the ground, or attempt to draw the Glock strapped to his belt underneath the jacket. He did however turn slightly towards the source of the disturbance, tucking his notebook and pencil into his jacket pocket and straightened the Arizona Diamondbacks baseball cap on his head.

He took a step towards the disturbance, moving slowly through the brush with the delicate care of one who could sneak up on a grizzly bear without the bear knowing. Heel to toe, carefully measured steps as he moved branches past his face with his hands so as to not make noise with them whipping back into position. These were not just the movement of an ordinary hunter. This was the movement of someone who snuck up on fellow humans for a living, usually to kill them.

Did he mean whatever was on the other end any harm? No.

Why was he moving forward? Because he was curious and wanted to get a better look. While Nathan was usually one to mind his own business, something about this new job of his meant that he was always on edge. Back in the regular army, you went on a mission then came back home, usually being able to let your guard down slightly and relax.

Not in this game though.

MECH was operating directly on U.S. soil, in brazen defiance of the American government. They targeted a sixteen year old kid to get access to a Cybertronian. Who's to say they wouldn’t go after a twenty nine year old special ops soldier to get the same information. Going after him wouldn’t stir up the kind of hornet’s nest that going after Miko or one of the other kids might. As he moved, his left hand went towards the knife strapped to his belt, not to draw it out but to undo the latch holding it into place.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Some of the deer glanced in Nathan's direction. The herd was tense, the ears of some of them swiveling. A couple of the does had moved toward the trees, their fawns following obediently behind. The buck's stare was so intense, it was like he was glaring daggers at the human approaching them. The half-forested slopes went quieter. The only sign of movement was Nathan making his way through the brush.

"Pssst! Hey!"

Someone was above him, a little off to the left. The voice that had spoken sounded feminine. In a scraggly oak, hidden between a large cluster of tight-packed leaves, someone leaned out. The edge of a freckled face stared down at him, one gray eye framed by a wave of strawberry blond. The low branch this person was on groaned, the stranger shifting their weight to get a better look at him. "Don't go over there," the stranger whispered at him. "There's a - "

Whoever she was, she didn't get a chance to finish. The nearby brush exploded with fluid motion; the deer turned and fled. A blurry, four-legged shape charged through the bush and straight at the yearling. The young male lagged behind after its herd, tripping on some uneven rocks and catching a hoof on them. This was enough of an opportunity for an enormous male cougar, thick-jowled and rippling with muscle. The huge cat sprang with ease, unsheathing its claws and opening its jaws wide with a half-snarl. Teeth as long as a man's thumb sank into the neck of the deer, the blow only a hair above the animal's shoulders. The weight of the hunter slammed into its prey's back, making the deer stumble and almost fall. To its credit, despite it being a bit smaller and weaker than the grown buck, it began to kick and thrash around.

The person in the tree winced a little. As the deer fought, it made the most horrible noise, sounding like a choking sheep. It panted and snorted and whined, the cougar holding on with a vice-grip. The yearling made a valiant effort, but such crazed, desperate attempts tired it. One back foot kicked out as the other went sideways, the yearling slipping and falling to its side. The cougar let go and dove for its neck, the young deer trying to bolt away in the brief instant it was free.

The cougar seized it by the throat and shook the yearling instead. They disappeared into the bushes and grasses with a meaty thud. Sticks broke and pebbles flew as the cat wrestled with its prey, the deer making a loud gurgle. Something wet tore, and something cracked loud - something larger and thicker than simple deadfall. The trees and hills were silent all around.

[Nathan Walker]

Most people did not whisper something to their target before ambushing them.

Still, Nathan’s hand slipped under the edge of his jacket to grasp the grip on his Glock, not drawing it but ready to draw should the need arise. Part of him was wishing that he had brought his grandfather’s Smith and Wesson Model 29 revolver instead of his military issued automatic pistol. Sure he would have only had six shots compared to fifteen, but in this environment he would rather have those six shots with roughly fifty percent increase muzzle energy and twenty percent increase in muzzle velocity contained in a pretty reliable platform that almost felt like an extension of his arm.

Still, most things died after fifteen rounds of 9mm M882 ball ammo.

Nathan looked up to whoever it was whispering to him, seeing that she didn’t seem to be holding a weapon. That caused him to relax his guard slightly, his lips about to ask the inevitable question when the bush exploded twenty five yards away from him.

What happened next was automatic, years of training and experience taking over. Nathan’s pistol was up and out, pointed right towards the cougar but not firing. Slowly, Nathan backed towards the tree, keeping his breathing slow and steady as adrenaline began to flow throughout his body. Deep down, part of him said he should be disgusted, or perhaps disturbed by the violence shown by Mother Nature.

No, he was used to this. He hunted animals since he was twelve, from rabbits to black bears. He knew how the circle of life went. Besides, this was tame compared to some of the things he’d seen. Compared to some of the sounds he had heard.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

The person in the tree whisked behind the cover of branches as the gun came out. She peered down through a hole in a lower bough, staring at Nathan before looking back up at the cougar. Her eyes remained on the cat as it savaged its prey, unblinking.

The cougar was slow to rise from where it fell with the yearling. Its topline and risen head was visible above the surrounding shrubbery, which had been kicked over and half-flattened in the struggle. Gory as the deer's death had sounded, the smear of blood around its neck and the cougar's jaws was neat. Its enormous fangs held the wound of its prey together, preventing it from making too much of a mess. The cat, breathing heavy from the rush of exertion, turned and looked at Nathan. The person in the tree, whose own breathing had been steady and quiet, paused and held it.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four. Then six, then ten, then twelve. Finally the huge male turned away, either unfazed by or not wanting to pick a fight with two humans and a gun. With slow half-strides, the cougar dragged the deer into the thicker foliage. The cat would disappear into the undergrowth, its russet and gray fur blending it in with various browns, yellows and greens. Sticks snapped, small branches broke, and bushes rattled. A rough drag mark, patched with drops and splatters of blood, followed it into the wilderness.

The person in the tree started breathing again. The sounds became more and more distant - it wasn't coming back. Not right now, at least. There was a water source right beside the pair, and there was a chance the cougar knew that. Whoever was in the tree began to move down, making a slight jingle as they went. Her movements were quiet, practiced, and her hands and feet found footholds easily.

Stopping at the second-last bough to the ground, the person crouched on the thick branch. She eyed Nathan with a wary look, but had relief evident in her face and shoulders. There was an odd pungency wafting down from her - nicotine, most strongly, and sweat from exertion. But there was something else there, too, something old and meaty and tinged with fake lavender. Her shoulder-length hair was askew and full of twigs, one oak leaf sitting on her right temple like a hairpiece. She was light-skinned, but the kind that was a touch too dark to burn, and the tan looked odd with her red-gold hair. Freckles were all over her bare shoulders, arms and hands, with a splash of them over her face and cheeks. Dark circles sat heavy under her eyes, and lines of stress textured her face like weathered sandstone. She had on a pair of plain tan cargo pants, and a white tank-top with a faded, floral design embroidered into the edges. Her clothes had stains from dirt, dust, spots of something red-purple, and sap from trees. Around her neck, a black cord had been tied tight, two dull dog-tags clinking together. They glinted as they caught the sunlight, coming to rest against her collarbone.

"So," the woman said at last, blinking once. "I hope no one tries to go up or down the trail from the other end. It looks like that's where the cat's going. You all right, stranger?"

[Nathan Walker]

After a long moment Nathan leaned with his back against the tree and allowed the muzzle of the handgun to point towards the ground, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm the flow of adrenaline that had hit his veins.

After another moment, he holstered the Glock back onto his hip and covered it with his jacket before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a water bottle, taking short sips. Despite having killed numerous times, having been in hopeless and terrifying situations, coming down of the fight or flight instinct was always a bit rough on him. While he took a sip of water he looked over to the woman who joined him.

Nicotine and dirt...smelled a lot like his grandfather. Not that it was a problem. Marcus Crane had been a mentor and inspiration to him up until his death a few years ago. Of lung cancer. But grandfather never wore lavender a day in his life.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Nathan put away his water bottle and stood up to his full six foot and one inch height, pulling off his Arizona Diamondback baseball cap and running a hand through his non regulation black hair while looking over to his visitor.

“How’d you end up in the tree?”

The question was not so much as one of how, because Nathan knew that she had likely climbed up. To be fair though, just a few months ago he had learned that the first aliens humanity had made contact with was giant metal robots that were fighting a civil war. If she had said that she levitated up the tree, he likely would have believed her.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

"Cougar's been here for about thirty minutes, I'd reckon," the woman said. "I'd gone past the lake and up the trail when I found fresh scat and tracks. Thought it was further up the trail when I came back toward here. Turned around at some point, and saw it sixty or so yards away from me. Either it was following me or smelled the deer - didn't matter much, because I climbed a tree to get away from it as soon as it was distracted."

He had a good amount of height on her. She couldn't have been more than 5'4", 5'5" at the most. There was an air of calm that sat about her face and shoulders, tinged only with a lingering watchfulness. If she'd been rattled by what had gone on, she wasn't showing it, and was more concerned with what Nathan was doing. Her accent wasn't one that was local, either - some of her gliding vowels came out higher on the tongue. It sounded like something Northwestern, if Nathan had ever been up that way.

"It's a good thing you came along when you did," the woman continued, stepping toward and then around Nathan. She looked off into the distance where the cougar had gone. "That's probably the biggest cat I've ever seen. If it went where I think it's going, it's not safe to try and go up the trail. You might want to turn back around. I know I am."

And so she did, making a gentle half-turn to start going in the opposite direction. She started to pass by Nathan, but paused and frowned at him again. The woman had a look of concerned doubt, like she wasn't confident that the soldier was fine. The woman stood in an expectant silence, watching Nathan - or perhaps observing him, to see what he did next. He did have a gun, after all, and they were unknown to each other.

[Nathan Walker]

“Good call then.”

Nathan replaced the water bottle back into his backpack and pulled out a zip lock bag filled with beef jerky, taking a piece out and taking a bite out of it before replacing the bag back into his backpack and putting his Diamondback hat back on his head. Didn’t look like this woman was armed in any way that he could see, meaning that she was less of a threat than that cougar. His hand subtly went to the knife on his waist and reapplied the fastener on the sheath while he continued to speak.

“I’ll take your word on that then. Probably for the best anyway.”

Part of being in the Special Forces, or in fact being an adult in Nathan’s opinion was knowing when to walk away from a situation. Could he take on that cougar right now? Probably, but was it wise to do that? Definitely not the wisest course of action.

As she started back down the trail, Nathan fell almost into step with the woman as they moved down the trail before pausing with her when she looked at him. As he looked back to her, Nathan got another look at her up and down.

Dog tags being worn outside of military uniform? Meant that she was either fresh out of bootcamp which was something that Nathan figured was not the case, or she had a deceased family member in the military. Her accent was definitely not from the area, though from where Nathan could only guess at the moment.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

[Cassandra Cassidy]

There was a bit of a pause as he asked her name. The two of them stood there, sizing each other up. Neither meant the other ill will, but there was that tension of a lone woman in the woods trying to judge an unknown man. The woman pursed her lips.

"Some call me Butch," she finally said. "I guess you can call me that too."

He was the military type, or used to be. Butch could see it in how he carried his shoulders straight, how he marched instead of walked. His dark hair was longer - unrulier, even - than a regulation haircut allowed, left to grow a little and stick out. Either he needed a barber or he wasn't in the forces anymore, the woman figured.

"What about yours, stranger?" she asked. "Got a rank to go with that name? You seem like one of the off-duty rangers, or someone from one of the bases around here. Something government, I'd say. Cop, military, or another job of that stripe."

Butch would continue down the trail after getting an answer. Even if it was a question, she'd continue forward through the bush. She took long, quick strides, finding her way around roots and rocks with a bighorn's grace. Though the terrain caught at and snagged her, she found and stepped into bare patches with ease. Her eyes kept sharp, glancing around at the rocky forest and, on occasion, at the way in front of her.

It didn't appear as if any other predators were around - sound was slowly returning to the forest. If that cougar had a mate, she was far from where the two hikers were. Birds picked up where they left off with their singing, and a chipmunk skittered out onto a branch to look below. It watched the pair with black button eyes, then scurried down to a lower branch. Another chipmunk joined it, having scurried up the trunk of its companion's perch: a withered and gnarled ponderosa pine.

[Nathan Walker]

“Butch huh?”

Either someone had a sick sense of human, or there was something that Nathan was not being let in on. At the woman’s deductive reasoning, he arched an eyebrow underneath his cap as he continued alongside her. He would be a fool to underestimate this one, but that did not mean that he would reveal all his cards just yet.

“Active military. Some call me Diamondback. I guess you can call me that too.”

Nathan followed the woman along her trail as the surrounding wildlife seemed to come alive again, now knowing that the predator had left the area. It was likely that he had just cued her into the fact that he was Special Forces, but Diamondback was not a name that the United States Army kept track of. The only people that kept track of that were a long way away from here.

“You’re pretty perceptive Butch. But if I had to guess I would say that you had a family member in the service, so you know what to look for.”

Despite the dogtags, Nathan highly doubted now that this woman was ex-military. He was running on his assumption that she had a family member in the service based on how she didn’t seem to carry herself like a soldier, and the fact that she was wearing dog tags outside of military uniform. There was still the chance that she was ex-military, and just went to insane lengths to hide that fact. But Nathan doubted that as he continued to climb up after her.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Butch smiled a little, giving an amused "hmph". "Right you are, stranger," she said, sticking her hands into the pockets on her cargo pants. Diamondback might've glimpsed her left hand before it disappeared, the fingers and knuckles uneven. A few blotches of scar tissue discolored some of the top part. "But it's more I've gotten to know a few of the men and women stationed around here. There's something to them I pick up on. The tags...."

The smile dropped a little. Butch's look turned pensive.

"We weren't close. Close enough, but not that close. They're my father's - we lost him almost a year ago. He was serving out here, somewhere. Some kind of training accident took him and a couple of others."

She stepped around some deadfall in the trail, hopping over a tree root with a nimble step. Above the hikers, a woodpecker had settled on another pine and begun to peck. Its wings and head were a greenish-black, a mask of dark burgundy on its face and around its beak. A rosy pink-red on its belly, interrupted by a couple of black legs with pink claws, faded into a gray collar and chest. It was big for a woodpecker - at least ten or eleven inches long - and Butch's head went up as soon as she spotted it moving. The woman stopped mid-stride, cocking her head to get a better look.

"Huh," she muttered. "Lewis's woodpecker. Wonder what it's doing here this time of year. Thought it only migrated through these parts."

The woodpecker stabbed and chipped at the pine for a few seconds, reaching with its beak into the hole it made. It pulled back, staring at its work, and then pecked at the wood again. Butch watched it for a minute more before she continued down the trail.

[Nathan Walker]

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve noticed that when that happens, it tends to hit harder.”

Nathan had lost friends and colleagues throughout the years he had been in the military, some to hostile enemy action but a few just happened to be because there was a mistake made in trying to prepare everyone for something else.

But what got his attention was when she said ‘serving out here’. While there were official military bases out this way, this also happened to be the location for N.E.S.T. Headquarters, and they had taken a few casualties lately. ‘Training Accident’ also happened to be military code for something top secret that they were not going to talk about for a long time, probably never.

“What was his name?”

It was a shot in the dark, perhaps a stupid risk to be taking that could let the whole cat out of the bag, but Nathan had one of those funny feelings. Where something that he couldn’t put his finger on was just outside his reach, just waiting to be figured out but beyond his understanding at that moment. And he hated those feelings.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

"I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve noticed that when that happens, it tends to hit harder."

"Mm," Butch grunted. "Not like it's surprising, though. It's literally in the job description that you're going to get shot at." Despite saying this, what might've been an attempt at a joke dipped into something morose. Butch went quiet after that, her eyes looking ahead and a thoughtful expression on her face.

As they moved through the wilderness, Butch rarely strayed from Diamondback's side. Whenever he sped up, Butch was only a fraction of a second behind him before her steps quickened to match his. Whenever he slowed down, she make a quick hop back, reacting as fast as she did with the opposite effect. He was almost always in her sight, and her back was never to him for long. Neither did she let him keep his back to her, if he noticed.

At some point, Butch's pace slowed a little, and she lagged behind Diamondback by a fraction. Whatever she was thinking about - if anything - had now caused her to frown a little, her attention turned inward. Her eyes had a distant look, as if she were daydreaming or deeply musing about something. One might say she looked a little sad - her chin started dipping, her hair's fringe falling into softened eyes.

When Diamondback asked his question, it took her a moment to realize he'd been speaking to her. Her head snapped back up, and she said, "Hm? Oh. It's, uh - it was Robert."

She braced herself as the trail angled down. Her feet slid a little, but she made her way to the bottom with half-bouncing steps. She hopped off the small embankment, landing a few paces ahead of Diamondback. She waited for him to cross short distance to her, saying, "His friends had a few different names for him, apparently. I think he hated most of them."