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Archeological Contracts (Open); Open Thread for Improptu RPing
Topic Started: Jun 21 2009, 02:49 AM (11,723 Views)
~Shin-Ra~
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The Other Guy
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The screen blinked briefly as one of the deep red areas along the ships system’s switched from the deep red of critical damage to a light yellow representing ‘near total failure’. Across the ship’s map most of the areas along the lower and mid decks were highlighted in red or black, the latter colour representing total shutdown or destruction of sensors.

It was hard to believe that this was an actual improvement over the previous state of the ship. But with most of the internal systems offline and direct connections between the AI units and the ship under heavy repair, squinting through security cameras of the bridge towards one of the working damage control screens was the best Shin could manage.
He’d been regretting the stupidity of his actions since the attack. Despite knowing what the fighter craft were capable of carrying and being well aware of how much damage EMP weapons could do to unshielded systems he had focused his fire upon the upper sections of the Claymore. And for what damage had a head on fight done? One of the enemy cruiser’s main guns destroyed? Minor damage to the hull and secondary weapons? No where near enough to make up for the near total loss of the Lightbringer.

They had put some distance from the Claymore, thankfully suffering from similar problems, but with the defence grid offline it would take little effort to finish off the gun platform.

It was now just a race to see who recovered from the battle first, whether the cruiser brought its guns back online or the nanomachines could full repair the systems to allow the Lightbringer to fight or flee the system.

---------------------

“I was hoping that you would be able to tell me” Blake said, relived that the AI had survived the fall intact. Ignoring the obvious question of who or what the multiple voices were he simply stated “Derad, we’re trapped down here. The ground collapsed beneath us as you were being moved to my ship, there’s no way up.
You’re inside a computer… or what I hope is a computer linked to a pair of doors blocking our path. Open them.”

Blake’s statement wasn’t so much a request as it was a command. No one knew they were there and it would be unlikely anyone would spot a hole only a few feet across in the middle of a desert, even so close to the landing site of the other ships.
Besides, they had greater problems; namely the ship in orbit and the individuals who had attempted to raid the dig site. One of which, as Blake recalled, was almost certainly on the loose after Ra’s poor attempt to negotiate with the man.
A thought occurred to Blake. “Actually, never mind about the door. You might want to run a systems check, assuming that computer has one, and try to find out what we’re actually in. I’d rather you knew what this thing was capable of before you tried pushing buttons in there.”
"You can live forever or die trying."
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~The Boss~
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More gunfire. And energy blasts. A quick peek up, and Grace was greeted with the sight of the Chozo, now a glowing blue blur headed straight for them at incredible speed. Another hunter in power armor, whom she hadn't seen before now, was coming up right behind him.

If there was a script for this raid, Grace imagined the stage directions for this scene would look something like this:

All Bounty Hunters fire at will towards cornered Raiders.

Fat Lady enter Stage Right, commence singing.


No. No, this wasn't the end. This couldn't be the end. Grace was determined that it wouldn't be. Not here. Not now.

Reluctantly, she took her sidearm from her belt and handed it to Nick. "What's this for?" he asked.

"So you can shoot at these guys," she replied matter of factly, but there was a deathly serious look on her face. "Whatever happens, you and Casey get out of here. Understand?"

Before Nick could object, Grace took off running, trying to get them to chase her and not her partner.

He looked at the two bounty hunters now bearing down on him. The Chozo was coming too fast. Way too fast. He was gonna have to change directions quickly if he didn't want to overshoot Grace about a mile and a half. Nick wondered if he could make that cut without breaking his ankles.

"Lord?" Nick said, his eyes peering up to the sky. "Now I ain't askin' you to save me. I lived me a good life now. Just... do me one favor and watch over the girls, would ya? 'Specially my Casey, she just a kid. And I know Grace don't think she need it, but look after her too. Believe me, you don't wanna have to deal with her on a personal basis. Amen."

His prayer finished, Nick stood up and started firing both his pistols indiscriminately.
Edited by The Boss, May 23 2010, 02:59 AM.
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~DarkKnightCuron~
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Twin targets, both separating, Z'Gato noted during his sprint, but even in the time it took for him to think that, he had already crossed a considerable distance, and the female was running off in a different direction. In the Power Boost mode, there was almost no way for Z'Gato to change direction, and only two ways of stopping: Hitting an immobile object, or aborting the mode. Stopping too quickly had the chance of him snapping his own leg bones, so he would have to try something else.

The avian leapt into the air, and while he only applied a fraction of his strength into the leap, the power boost caused him to jump almost five feet in the air. The Chozo then dipped his torso forward, coming into a hard roll into the desert sand, deactivating the Power Boost mode and coming to a halt. The blinking runes on his heads-up display told him that his armor had suffered minor damage from the impact, but all systems were still functioning.

Even worse news, he had still overshot his target. Snarling, the Chozo raced towards the woman, leveling his cannon towards her and letting his targeting software take over, allowing him to track her, if only to a limited degree. It was at this point that pistol shots impacted his armor, and while the armor was more than capable of defending against small arms fire, the attack broke his concentration and caused the Chozo to duck on instinct.

'I will not let my prey get away!' He thought to himself as he fired his cannon at the woman without using the targeting software, using his best judgement for the aiming.
Edited by DarkKnightCuron, May 17 2010, 10:44 AM.
Marching to the Black Gates...
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Even as Jenosa lay on the hot sand with a feeling of vulnerability in the desert air, she couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was easy to tell they had pinned Grace and her friend in a nasty spot, and she wanted it that way; better them feeling the pressure than the hunters. Although she was mildly annoyed at Z'Gato's recklessness; he had good technology and good combat experience, but lacked any sort of on-the-fly tactical thinking, which to her, was unprofessional.

During her years in Confederation space, she had no special suit technology, no martial arts or super strength, yet she had made herself quite a name to the Confederation military with all of her uncanny resourcefulness; aside from her discretion. It was what she prided herself for, and as things were heating up, she found herself going full swing, her experiences and human instincts blending together into a fluid thought process.

Every action she made now came intuitively, as if shifting to a rhythm of a beat; only the beat was the ebb of combat. Every move she made was to avoid danger while taking on her target, and she could immediately sense her current position was bad; the angle she lay at made her a sitting duck. She needed to move back up the dune while laying down suppression fire to help cover her, and that's exactly what she did.

With Grace's pal in the corner of her eyes and being busied by Faulias (She chuckled at the thought of them have a man-on-man battle), she aimed and let loose two propelled plasma grenades from her rifle. They arched like pink-red flares, with one landing near the front of her target and the other near her side; and they pretty much stuck to that location. While they were dangerous explosives, Grace could avoid them until they blew; the tactic was that their positioning momentarily left her with less room to maneuver around Z'Gato's and Jenosa's shots.

Jenosa held her silent, serious, professional attitude as she aimed her rifle while quickly sidestepping up the dune, letting loose a flurry of plasma bolts. As she did, that same, alien - Scurge - instincts stirred in the back of her mind, the flow and pulse of the rifle in her hands becoming more and more intense as time the seconds went on.
--------------------------

Derad's mind was still adjusting to whatever he had been planted into, and as every second passed, the more things about this new system became apparent; though he had yet to discern their purpose. In the digital world, they were like buttons or control on a console that stood there, but held no identification at what they did.

And at that, he became rather irritated by Blake's command. "Mind the tone, young man," his gruff, old voice said very sternly, "We may be in this for the moment, but that does not mean you're my commanding officer." The professor began to wonder if trusting this Blake had been a good idea. It might have been for him better to hold him there until Jenosa got back; assuming she had. Would have made planning much more smoother.

Funny enough, Blake's demeanor suggested he wasn't very interested in sticking around, but he assumed that could be a number of reasons. Still, Derad thought it was best to keep an eye on him as best as possible as he surveyed the rest of the system.

And surveyed he did; it was enough to the aforementioned task when so many things were starting to unearth themselves from his mere presence within this computer system. In the digital world that he was in, almost everything was a blur, especially object that he wasn't quite sure on. True, his mind had easily interfaced with the visual and audio sensors of the system, but that was probably how it was developed.

The room itself was, in fact, an entire blur itself, the details brown and gray parts of the wall non-existent. He assumed it had something to with how the software and drivers had been made with a different protocol or 'language,' so not everything here translated directly to his own mind.

Still, in the mere few seconds he was in here, everything was becoming more and more focused. It was like his mind was somehow adjusting itself to the built-in software; or maybe it was the other way around. He didn't know, and what mattered was learning as much as could ab-

Just as he was about to touch something, he felt a familiar...presence. It stuck out amongst the rest of the word, and as he turned to see it, he saw a door. A sliding door that had all the fine details and no blur, and looked rather inviting. Wanting to investigate as much as possible but retaining some caution, he opened the door, and found himself in the very world he conjured up whenever he was in Jenosa's suit.

In fact, it almost felt like he was in Jenosa's suit, only there was no one wearing; which was strange in itself because the beating pulse he always felt whenever Jenosa wore the suit, but the instruments said otherwise. He quickly exited the door, and back into the main system; and he had found other doors had materialized.

He checked them too; one was the entrance to Jenosa's ship's computer, another to another ship that used Federation protocols, one that he identified as Mat's.

All of this had taken only a few second in real-time, and didn't take long for Derad to realize what this meant.

"Jesus Christ," he spoke out loud, "this system appears to be able to interface with every goddamn machine on this planet."

Even as he spoke, he had already tried another door just to be sure. Little did he know that he was accessing the Claymore's system, and someone was very likely to find out.
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
— Monty Oum
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~Jedi~
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The Claymore was hanging above the planet, slowly becoming more and more lively as repairs progressed. Main power had been restored, and by now most of the computer banks had resumed their operating status. The enemy ship that Captain Kaivori wanted to find was hovering at the far end of the system, no doubt licking its wounds, but this time the ship had their available sensors trained on the enemy cruiser; there would be no more surprises from it if they had anything to say about it. Most of the crew were returning to their stations, the bridgehands already at their posts and working at their panels. First-Lieutenant Voree turned to face the man sitting behind her, who was now dressed in a finely-pressed and well-kept officer's uniform, emblazoned with medallions; some were real, others were apparently home-crafted. "Sir, ship status is at 84 percent and rising. Other than one of the gauss cannons, who's magnetic coils were blown out from the blast, weapons systems are a-go. Shields and navigation, as well, though the former still needs some tweaking. It's got a lot of fluctiation to deal with.

The captain nodded, his hand drifting from the arm of his chair to the small glass of wine that he kept nearby. He sat in utter silence, his eyes darting over the main display and the informational data that was streaming in constantly as he brought his lips to the glass, the cool, red liquid flowing. "Very good, Lieutenant," he said after taking a savoring drink, placing the glass back down. "Have we heard anything from our guests?"

"Not yet, sir. The ship we exchanged fire with is floating near the outter rings of the system, but preliminary scans and battle examination from footage of the fight leads us to believe that she's barely worth her weight in scrap metal, most likely. As for the ground-side teams, we've yet-"

A sporadic, annoying beeping cut her off, the comms officer hastily adjusting something at his station. After a moment, he turned to face the officers, a pair of fingers jamming an earpiece into his ear. "Sir! Our databases are being accessed from a point outside of the ship!"

"Is it from the enemy ship?" Kaivori asked, his voice steady and calm even though his face showed obvious detest. He stood, walking towards the small guard-rail and leaning against it.

"No, sir....source appears to be from the planet. I'm isolating containment now, as best as I can with the limited programs we have run-"

"Then they've made their decision," the Captain said, shaking his head slightly. "I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this, but if they must be so...uncivilized, then I'm afraid we'll have no choice. Send a counter-spike, and lock down all systems. I want a stable orbit and firing position above the planet and the compound as-soon-as-possible."

The chattering of keyboards and the shouting of commands quickly raised a small din within the bridge, and, after a few moments, the ship shuttered as it's large engines began cycling and thrumming to life. Lieutenant Voree stood at the central command center for a moment, casting a wary glance back at her superior officer. "Sir, with the complications from the EMP, it'll be a little under an hour before we're in a stable enough situation and the guns are prepared." She paused, a small, almost remorseful look in her eyes. "And...does this mean that we're going to...?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. They will be glassed within the hour."


Several bursts of data and information came through Derad's connection at once, before everything seemed to go dark and he was forced out of the doorway, the entrance itself fading into oblivion. The data remained with him, however; navigation readouts, coordinates, weapons diagnostics tests. Everything that, when pieced in the right order, might warn them of what was to come.
Edited by Jedi, May 28 2010, 01:56 AM.


"Fatalis Maximus"
 
Hey, just because you're anthropomorphic doesn't mean you can have three thumbs, you bastard.


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~The Boss~
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Native Son

(OOC: HELL YEAH! Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!)

A few stubborn rays still peeked out from below the horizon, but for all intents and purposes, darkness had fallen on the desert.

Nick fired his guns empty at Faulias, then dove back into the ravine to take cover. He didn't have a whole lot of clips left, although he did still have grenades left in the bag, stuffed in one of the side pockets. That it might not be a good idea to stash the explosives in the same gym bag as the artifacts from which he was hoping to make a profit simply had not occurred to him. Besides, they only had one bag.

Pulling the pin with his teeth, he lobbed one of the grenades in Faulias's direction, then slapped fresh clips into his pistols. He waited for the explosion, took aim, then resumed firing.

It was against his every instinct as a Marine first of all, and especially a SpecWar man, to just stand there exposed like that. This guy was in power armor and had some sick firepower, and all Nick had was a leather jacket two handguns, and a couple grenades. With this sort of severe equipment disadvantage, he should either be taking cover or finding the high ground. He should be formulating some actual strategy, not standing there and shooting like a madman.

Or a madwoman...

Truth be told, this was exactly the sort of thing Grace would do. Stand tall and act like you just know you're the baddest motherfucker in the room. Even if you're not. Just own it. March right up to the playground bully and punch him in the face. It worked for her, so why not take a page from her book?

So Nick did just that. Standing there defiant and guns blazing against the charging armored behemoth.

........................

Like most people of her inclination, Grace never liked school much. When Savage Henry took the fifteen-year old pickpocket in, she certainly hadn't expected him to make her go to school. She had, after all, been promised that she would learn things like how to kill a man with her bare hands, not chemistry and trigonometry.

To make matters worse, he enrolled her in Catholic school. St. Catherine's, same school he went to. Same school Jimmy and Ronnie Black and Jimmy's brother Rex went to. But it was part of the deal. Get your formal education during the day, he'd told her, then come home and get your real education. So, she agreed.

When he started suggesting she try out for sports, she initially resisted, but only a little this time. She had already come this far, and besides, she was a natural athlete. It was why Henry thought so highly of her to begin with. So she settled on basketball, made the team, and before long was the starting point guard till she graduated.

As it turned out, Henry knew what he was talking about. It took her a while to catch onto this, but there was always a reason for something. Like a sensei in some old martial arts movie, only he wasn't really prepping her for some specific move. He was simply certain that those skills and especially the conditioning would translate somehow. Let Coach teach you how to control your body, Henry said, and I'll teach you how to use it.

At the moment, Grace was feeling very much like a point guard, darting and dashing, trying to avoid the energy blasts that were going off all around her. Hustle, hustle, Coach said. Never stop moving. Never let up, not even for a second. And then Henry. I'm your coach when you get home but the same rules apply. Only now your opponent is armed.

Now their center is an eight foot bird-man wearing the most advanced suit of armor this side of Samus goddmaned Aran, and is bearing down on you fast. Their power forward is in armor too, and he's got your sadly unarmored power forward locked down back there. Help from the bench is coming, but it's gonna be a few minutes.

And had Grace been somehow been listening in to the comm traffic like Casey no doubt was (or should be, anyway), she'd also understand that the fourth quarter had just begun.

More plasma blasts exploded around her, these more powerful than the previous shots. She dove to her left, trying to roll out of the way. The blinding flash briefly illuminated the desert, though being a blinding flash that didn't necessarily do much for visibility.

When the smoke cleared, Grace was nowhere to be found.
Edited by The Boss, May 28 2010, 06:49 PM.
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~DarkKnightCuron~
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
There was a bright flash of light in Z'Gato's view sensors, and while his helmet immediately adjusted by switching to a tinted screen, Z'Gato was forced to squeeze his eyes shut from the flash, rolling to the side after coming to a halt and taking a knee. It took a moment to shake away the sparkles from his vision, and when he commanded the suit to switch to night-vision mode, his prey had vanished.

Z'Gato growled loudly in irritation, looking from side to side for his prey. Damned cowardly tricks! He assumed a low, ready stance, his sensors scanning his environment for movement, his eyes searching for any betrayal of his prey's position. She must have set off a blind grenade of somekind in order to throw him off her trail, and now she was ready to pounce on him with...somekind of weapon. He assumed it would be an anti-armor weapon to pierce his armor and render his internal organs into mush, a grenade, or she would take up a sniping position. Either way, remaining where he was would soon be a bad idea.

Z'Gato came to his feet, hearing the gunfire being exchanged between the other Power Armored individual and the male target. Part of Z'Gato wanted to engage the other target he knew was still visible, but he refused to show his back to his now-hidden prey. That would be suicidal. Z'Gato, therefore, began running towards his prey's last position, making sure not to go in an entirely straight line, looking for any sign of her.

The memory brought him back to his training on Talon IV, where the vast jungles were often used to train recruits in the nature of The Hunt. Literally, anything that resided within that jungle could kill you, and it was imperitive you killed it before it snuck up on you.

This was no different.

Thinking back on it, he didn't remember his target pulling anything from her pockets or belt. In fact, those grenades seemed to have come from a different direction altogether. He snarled at the thought of that Jenosa woman trying to help him seize his prey, but managing to do more harm than good. Perhaps not, however. If Jenosa had been trying to limit his target's maneuverability, its possible Z'Gato might have actually scored a hit, probably badly wounding his prey.

Then why in the hell was it so hard to find her? Z'Gato wasn't convinced. His prey was hiding, getting ready to attack. He let his beating heart calm a little bit, experience teaching him that panicking did nothing when pursuing prey. He would simply search for her, until she decided to spring from her hiding place. Then he would be forced to react.

His muscles tensed as he readied for the inevitable action of dodging out of the way of some attack, letting his armor's sensors' scans inform him of any incoming fire.
Edited by DarkKnightCuron, May 28 2010, 07:41 AM.
Marching to the Black Gates...
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~The Silver Fox~
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[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Kathi sat alone in her room, a train of syrringes passing through a spectrometer. Her right hand clutched her left arm in a death grip, fingernils digging into the flesh. All to control the trembling. One part pent up manic energy, one part fear at what that energy could do as her mind eroded away.

The pain quickly brought the shaking under control. Kathi's breathing slowly returned to normal as she regained control over her emotions. So far, the only problem she had was her bipolar disorder showing through. It wouldn't be long before the voices started, though.

Over the light droning of the spectrometer analyzing the contents of her medical syringes, she heard someone calling out from the entrance to the ship. She quickly pulled her sleeve over the bleeding wounds in her bicep as she hastily made her way to the entrance. Her nails, however, remained coated in red.

She was greeted by the rather shaken visage of Doctor Tholburne, the woman whose offer had brought Kathi to this wasteland in the first place. She had to be asking herself the same question Kathi was: why? It didn't make sense, none of it did. There had to be something of incredible value in this place. No raider, big or small, would come here solely on the assumption that they would just make a quick buck off the artifacts. So what in the universe was Kaviori doing here? And to threaten the camp with destruction if they didn't comply meant he would destroy the dig site and all the artifacts as well...

Of course, figuring out what secrets this place hid was Tholburne's job, not Kathi's. Her job was to protect the camp from raiders. Well, that had gone poorly so far, but she still had to try. Tholburne was all that was left to defend, but she still had to defend the dig site so she had to protect Tholburne because how else was she going to get paid how else was she going to get her medicinehowelsewasshegoingto-

"Come in come in come in!" Kathi chirped as she grabbed the doctor by the arm and pulled her into the ship. She made it almost halfway to her brother's room, calling to him all the while that they had a visitor, before she caught herself. She bit into her arm until she could taste the coppery flavor of blood.

"Sorry," she appologized to Tholburne. "I'm afraid I'm starting to lose my mind." There was no hint of humor in her voice.

Matthew staggered out of his room. He let his gaze rest on his sister for a few seconds before acknowledging Tholburne's presence.

"Welcome to Nox, doctor," he stated plainly. "Without medication in her system, my sister's...not entirely stable. I think you should know, though, that it's only going to get worse from here..." he trailed off as he watched the blood running from the bite mark on his sister's arm. "Anyway, I don't think I got to apologize for stealing artifacts from your dig and posing as a worker. Times are tough, and..." he stopped, unable to bring himself to say anything more. Stranded from medical facilities, the potential problems of Kathi's illness had just become far more real than ever before.

Ultimately, he was just concerned with figuring out how he would keep Kathi from hurting Tholburne as the girl's insanity progressed.
Once, there was a maiden...
...whose tears of grief nearly drowned the world.
So she tore out her heart, and made war against it.
In victory, she sealed it in a locket,
and trapped in a casting of bronze.
"Such is the price of unguarded emotion," she said.
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Faulias chuckled as the now lone man wielding dual pistols began assaulting him directly. He wasn't one to fight with an unfair advantage, but hell, he didn't start the fight between them, so it wasn't bearing down too much on the old ex-merc's mind. The bullets pinged harmlessly off of the protective plating of his dulled armor, only a few finding their way to crevasses between the plates as Faulias did his best to sprint down the sandy dune.

'Sprint' was giving him too much credit, however, as most of his movement was sliding rather than running. Still, he had enough accuracy to fire back at the bastard, though being without power armor, Nick had the advantage of maneuverability.

Faulias' face seemed caught in a perpetual grin as he finally reached the bottom of the sandy slope, clawing his way up, the electricity from his gauntlet leaving glassed craters from the heat. He missed the grenade tossed at his feet while he was down, and was blown back, black scorch marks now clinging to his legplates.

This guy knew a little bit about what he was doing, that much was certain.

"You gots balls, man," came a voice from Faulias's helmet, his voice accent translator installed hours previously keeping his identity secret. An accent inherent of the outer rim planets took his voice's place. "S'impressive enough, but you're wastin' ya time wit' the big dogs..."

He hoisted his rifle to his shoulder, and fired. Inaccurately, and on purpose. He wanted to give Nick a chance before he took him down.
"Nothing... a shadow is nothing. It is merely a question not yet answered. We only fear the dark if we have no means of lighting our way.

Death comes to all, Morningstar. The world turns, the dawn comes... and under the light of the sun I shall slay giants."


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"What the hell!?" Jenosa said in surprise when Grace suddenly vanished as she had pulled a magic trick out of her ass.

She had no idea what had created those flashes; her plasma grenades weren't suppose to do that. Hell, they didn't even create smoke from their explosion; just a dangerous burst of red. Yet the flashes came around the exact same time those grenades were supposed to off; she wondered if some scientific mumbo jumbo she didn't understand had occurred, or if Grace had done something to the grenades.

She did not ponder these questions for very long, as she quickly placed her mind into a wary, attentive state by instinct. It happened within a split second, Jenosa knowing she needed to be aware of any minor detail that could hint to an ambush; yet as visibility quickly dwindled, Jenosa felt more and more enamored with that alien – Scurge – aspect of herself. She was mildly aware of this blend of identities was occurring again, and struggled to not let it over take her; but as the priority to capture or kill Grace became more and more dire, she knew she could not keep fighting herself like this. It would only help to leave her more vulnerable

Thus, her child-like spirit, deep inside her matured exterior, found itself embracing this aspect; and oddly felt rather liberated. It was as if her very struggle had been chaining her, just like her parent's attempts to keep her safe when she was young; and now she found she could work alongside this aspect naturally like it were any other part of her.

So much that the human and alien instincts, and senses, felt one and the same.

All this occurred is less than a blink of an eye, and out of it, she put her concentration forward; not only listening and observing for hints of ambush, but feeling, within a short, static radius, for the flicker of the distinct tingling warmth of a person's bio-energy. Not only that, but she took note of any hiding spots, her mind conjuring a feeling of vulnerability, as if those spots were sword tip prodding against her skin.

Standing along the dune with a wary posture, she was ready as she ever could be with whatever surprise might come her way.
---
Derad only had taken a few seconds to recognize what ship he was in before he was blown back by the wave of data; and the data stream itself was easily recognizable to him.

For the moment, he was in disbelief. He thought that he might be interpreting the data incorrectly, but back inside this 'temple,' everything had become more clear; and other devices were starting to connect to him, including what appeared to be a orbital ranged sensors. He could detect what the ship was doing and confirm what he had read.

"Good god, they can't be thinking of blasting the camp!?" he yelled to himself, although it also came out of the speakers where Blake was. “Damn those monsters, and all I did was unknowingly access their ship's systems.”

Derad felt half mad at them and half mad at himself for provoking them; but more so at the captain. He couldn't possibly be thinking of destroy any other innocent lives in this camp, even if there weren't many left. He probably thought there were heavy weapons and a hacker or two at the camp with all the hired mercenaries to warrant such an action; but even still...

He found the sudden turn of events brought bringing back memories of the terrors on Inos that had happened. It strangely felt like it had just been yesterday that it had all happened, where countless of innocent scientists were studying an unknown and dangerous organism; yes, granted, they had to keep the creature in a large tank at times, but with it's virulent state, they didn't have much of a choice. And before they had realized its true intelligence, the thing had gone on a rampage, killing and assimilating several, while the survivors worked with whatever means they could to prevent it from escaping. During his time he had barricaded himself while waiting for reinforcements, he felt completely frustrated with how he was barely able to do anything at all except give advice to the one person they had sent to not even help them.

That's what this moment felt like; he was in a computer system and barely able to anything about what was going to happen...

“Excuse me, but I beg to differ...”

Derad was familiar with the voice that spoke from behind; it was but an 'echo' of one of the other dead scientists that had been assimilated by the Source, their fragmented minds speaking to him occasionally like a subconscious. Yet he was completely surprised to see an actual representation of one them in this digital world.

Bearing a striking young age, the man before him had short, sleek black hair, sparkling blue eyes and white skin, and was fairly tall. Wearing the same lab coat as Derad, his name was Jidan Anloff, and he gave him a wry smile at Derad's reaction. “Surprised to see me?” he chuckled, “don't. I'm me and you, and you should know that. But that's besides the point; y'know, while you busy with those doors, you had no idea I was busy with the primary hub of this place. Judging by what I've learned so far, I'd say this was a military outpost.”

Military outpost, as in an outpost that would have weapon defense systems,” stated Derad, hopeful.

“Seems like it, but we've barely begun to scratch the surface.”

“Then I suggest we hurry pronto.”

“Agreed, but might I suggest calling in some help...”

--------

Inside the Nox, an alarm went off indicating the ship had received a message. The message itself showed where it had been transmitted from; which, oddly enough, was only a few meters away. The message read:

[/i]
Quote:
 
Emergency

Come immediately. Bring any artifacts and skilled archeologists with, and do it fast; or the Claymore will all have this place a smoking crater.

- A friend of Jenosa's

P.S. Don't believe. Here.


The message entailed data of what the Claymore had been currently up; and it used the Federation's protocol and date as proof this was not faked.

It also had the coordinates of the whole that Blake had fallen through.

---------

While the Claymore was preparing it's weapons and getting into position, the crew would no doubt be picking up an energy build up on the surface; not necessarily that of a weapons signature, but it was certainly far more significant than whatever a normal excavation camp would emit.

Like...somewhere around that of a large base powering up.
Edited by CEMP, Jun 1 2010, 11:51 PM.
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
— Monty Oum
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