Post by Roin on Apr 11, 2016 10:04:22 GMT -5
Gat-cha.
The Den Den's ending phrase rung through the room of quite the giant of a man. While he had shrunk somewhat in his age, Herba still would have to hunch over a bit in the establishment that he was residing in. Thankfully, sitting down on the cartoonishly small bed meant all he had to do was sit in a squat-like position.
"Mmm... never can have a proper holiday when you reach my age, can you...?"
A cycle of loud squeaks sounded through the room, the large Marine not paying any attention to it until a familiar sensation began to tug at him. Specifically, Turp was clinging to his cheek lazily with one paw, tugging and stretching out the man's face for a slight moment before releasing him and giving her own calm, tired squeak. As old as she was, it was quite likely the ferret was still trying to wake up... and as such, Herba was the one who had to turn his gaze and attention away and toward something that he saw almost daily.
Yammy, the Cyberret, was flopping on the flailing and smaller Skirrit, the black ferret squeaking for mercy underneath the considerably heavier Wapolmetal-enhanced critter. As the youngest of his ferrets, it was no surprise to see Yammy picking on him... but Herba tossed the Den Den at the pair to send the older female skittering along and the little male wriggling side to side in a brief attempt to right himself and get up.
"You leave him alone, Yammy... just because he's a nerd doesn't mean it's okay to pick on him!"
Squeaks of protest rang through the room as Yammy stared back at him, almost as if to challenge him, but no attention was paid to the little monster. Old Man Radix was too busy reaching out to the folded pile of clothes on the nightstand. Having sat there in his boxers while receiving the orders, the man began to dress himself with a sense of calm that betrayed the Parasite's immense size. The innumerable scars covering his arms and body vanished as he wrapped around his white shirt, Turp taking a moment to tuck her head into her tiny paws before rolling from the man's shoulders and to the bed with a loud plop. With her removed, Herba buttoned the shirt and fixed the collar before extending both of his legs out.
The sight of his L-shaped prosthetic right foot was one he'd grown long accustomed to, the act of pulling on his orange slacks remarkably easy despite the shape it held. Having to arch his back slightly and laying back, Turp flopped on his chest while the man tugged the bottomwear entirely on and began to fasten everything.
"Fetch my harness, you lazy girl. Or have the pests handle it."
Turp looked to Herba from her spot on his chest, taking a moment before looking back and squeaking to the other two. Squeaks came back to signal acceptance, something Herba knew from his time training ferrets, as the two ran to a pile of things in the corner of the room. And as Herba sat up, hooking one arm around Turp to keep her from falling from his chest, the duo slid a pair of shoes into position. Yammy chattered in her tongue before darting off back toward the corner, Herba sliding his foot into one shoe while Skirrit fiddled with the other shoe to get his prosthetic in, the very sight comical as he did so.
With his shoes on, Herba reached out to the floor beside the nightstand to retrieve something that he needed to put on before anything else. And one by one, the Marine slid the harnesses and bandoleers that supported his gear and ferrets over the shirt with one hand. And once the most important section was wrapped around his upper body, Turp snapped awake and wiggled free of his grasp. She seemed stuck for a moment on the mountain of a chest, but she finally clasped hold of one of the harness straps and began her climb. Inch by inch, she had almost gone from a crawl to a sprint in her effort to go from his chest to his shoulders, slumping down into her favorite cranny of the bandoleers. And once in place, snugly fit along his shoulders, the Shock Ferret sat her head calmly on his shoulder to peer forward.
"Alright, you two... let's go!"
The man's voice was stern like that of a parent, the result bringing Yammy vaulting from the ground and upward to him like an eager child. She squeaked upon impact with his gut, the squeaks from further down signalling Skirrit scaling his slacks. One after the other, Yammy and Skirrit slid into one of the resting nooks, peering around from the high ground. But they didn't get to look around for very long, both of the two briefly vanishing as Herba loosely pulled on his custom-fitted suit, buttoning it all the way up to conceal the harnesses and the duo. Yammy was still visible from the collar of his suit, blinking as she looked around, while the other two took a moment of struggling before they appeared from a gap between buttons and from the bottom of the suit.
"It's unfortunate that there are criminals on this island... but the three of you will need to be concealed somewhat so you don't give me away too much..."
A trio of squeaks filled the room, Herba walking toward the door of the room. And as he opened it, his right hand reached out to something that was covering a chair in the corner of the room, his large arm more than long enough to grasp it and pull it along. Coming into view in the World Government-owned tavern, home to many agents on vacation and those who weren't attached to specific groups, the man could at last rise to his full height. Ana Nine hadn't been expecting anyone of his size, after all, despite the town being on a World Government affiliated island. Carefully wrapping the large garb around his waist, just beneath Skirrit's part of the harness, the man tied it nice and tight in place, his Justice Coat's symbol visible clear as day... so long as one looked down to where he wrapped it around his waist, like some normal blazer or jacket.
"I need someone who's good with maps! I've got work to do around the island today! Orders to carry out, but I don't have any of my own troops on the island to assist me with this! A pair of eyes that aren't so old!"[/font][/ul][/ul]