If you're a returning member, no, your account has not been deleted, we've actually changed board since you were last here. just go ahead and register, PM one of the staff, let us know you're here, and we'll get right to work converting your information and post count from the old board. Keep in mind that any RPs running on the old site are probably still there, so if you don't see them here, just check the 'Home' Page, and follow the link back to the old board. |
| The Crossroads | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2010, 11:19 PM (7,026 Views) | |
| +CEMP+ | Sep 16 2010, 07:13 PM Post #91 |
|
Clockwork Master
![]()
|
"Just remain calm," she heard the alien 'captor' say, "we'll handle it as best as we can." Alana whined as the comm shut; a pirate who was your captor was telling you to remain perfectly relaxed was far from relieving. Add that to the fact that she had no idea what was going on, and this made her almost panic. The only thing that had kept her mind stable wasn't the fact that she couldn't do much about it, or that her life was at stake, as she was later remained. Rather, it was the complete opposite; there was a patient to be saved. No, it to her irony, it oddly had nothing to do with the fact that his life was her life - well, ok, probably a lot more motivating than she would admit - but mainly it had to do that she was a doctor. She never realized how much she began to care for other people, even if they were total strangers, and/or total dicks at that, after she switched careers. It was like a hidden bi-polar disorder in her had been unearthed, as, originally, she simply didn't wanted to do research and experiments; and nothing to do with the responsibility of caring for sick people weighing on her shoulders. Yet her father's death had strangely pushed her to this path, bringing out an aspect she never thought she had in herself. An aspect that certainly got her focusing on the 'patient's' well being less than her own; even if that patient was one of the more ruthless species in the galaxy. And saving that patients life now required her utmost attention, heeding her to get calm and ignore any distractions. An attention that only wavered when her eyes came across her 'Ing' sample in the petry dish when she was doing prep work. The sample was certainly...'evolving;' it had grown to take up almost the entire dish, and its mass was now quite bulbous, its 'skin' appearing to have a kind of rough texture to it. She even she saw a few small purple veins, and the damn thing looked to be breathing, its mass pulsating steadily. It was extraordinary, the scientist of her noted, to be seeing a mere culture sample become a more and more complex organism in shut a short amount of time. What the hell could it be about this 'Ing' infection or mutation that really made this thing so rapidly change in such a manner? she thought curiously, wishing she could over see it's theorized 'evolution' in the process; inwardly, she really wondered what would become of it. But the gruff threat from the speakers duly reminded her of her task at hand; and oddly, probably through out all the stress and in staying all cramped in the room, she seemed to, oddly enough, take the pirates phrase...quite insultingly. Which was why, without thinking, she whipped around and slammed the comm button, retorting back in a rather shockingly pissed tone, "Well of course it's on my head! It's always been on my head whether I have a gun next to it or not, and do you know WHY?! BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING. BLOODY. DOCTOR. AND I. SAVE. LIVES GODDAMMIT. Get it through your skull that's it THE MORAL of my profession, whoever the person probably might be; and I'm going to save your captain's life even if you drag me out of the infirmary, strip me bare naked, and toss me at the closest sun before I have the chance to TRY!" The comm was filled with her heavy panting as she caught her breath before finishing, "Now tell me who the frick's attacking while I get ready to commence surgery." Even as she moved to get her equipment, a part deep inside of her thought in an almost panicked manner: "Ummmm, what the hell did I just say?" Edited by CEMP, Sep 16 2010, 07:14 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 | |
![]() |
|
| ~Emperor~ | Sep 19 2010, 12:38 AM Post #92 |
|
Fragment
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
The comm-link in Na'ruten's helmet buzzed to life once more - with a cackle, and then emitted a beep identifying the signal as being from the Tikarez. Na'ruten almost froze in his tracks; now he could know the truth about their attacker. “Lieutenant Na'ruten.” One of the corporals speaking. “We've just finished the last scan of the Salty Dog, and the Ing signatures are the same as before... except for a minor deviance in the ship's infirmary. But the scans don't suggest anything, erm, along the lines of the lethality you've described.” Minor... deviance? Na'ruten didn't voice the thought, fumbling for a split second before giving a simple affirmative. What the hell had attacked his squad then? And why was it on the rebel ship? “Then, we are facing an unknown foe here,” Na'ruten voiced. “If not Ing. . . “ He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't know what else could possibly be aboard the Salty Dog. “There were no other notable readings?” he suddenly asked. The answer made him scowl behind his helmet. When the comm-link clicked out, Na'ruten could only impatiently walk on. The conversation had left him ever more apparent of his ignorance of the situation, and it was something that he hated dearly. Not having full information about missions grated him, and this was even worse, for that 'unknown' had taken out two of his men. And where the hell was Sy'thikrus? As if on cue, a familiar rusty glow appeared further in the hallway - giving Na'ruten a strange mixture of relief and further impatience. As the pirate neared, Na'ruten stopped walking just before a split in the hallway. The emergency lighting was offline for one reason or another, leaving the only illumination of the hallway the lights of their suits. “This way,” he stated when Sy'thikrus was close enough, before turning to the right-most hall. Their entry point was nearby, and the droning of their backup was faintly audible - the aerial drones had moved far ahead already, but the slower crawltanks were lagging behind. When they set off again, Na'ruten was silent. There was not much he wanted to discuss. After several minutes of this, radiation alerts began to nag at Na'ruten, and he knew they had entered the irradiated area. He unconsciously tensed - they couldn't afford to be caught off guard again. A casual glance at Sy'thikrus to his side, however, did take him off guard. He hadn't noticed the scars in Sy'thikrus' armor before, and the parasites couldn't have done it. “That,” he said, jerking his head towards the now-repaired damage. “What happened?” ~~~~~~~~~~~ The other squad of pirates, meanwhile, was much closer to the infirmary than Na'ruten and Sy'thikrus. The squad was carefully proceeding along one of the many hallways of the Salty Dog, with Officer L'ankan leading and meticulously scanning the area ahead. The emergency lighting was on in this section of the ship, and the current hallway was mostly devoid of damage. L'ankan hadn't found anything on their attacker yet either, and he was growing ever more irritable. The other two pirates were wisely quiet as they plodded on, weapons ready, despite the apparent lack of an enemy. Soon, however, a figure became visible in L'ankan's scanning - and in one of the twists of the corridor ahead. L'ankan froze immediately. “Stop,” was his only word at the other two, and he had only to hiss it for them to comply. L'ankan narrowed his eyes; there was no mistaking the figure ahead, it was the same as their attacker before. And directly in their planned route around the infirmary. But... Flicking through several of his visor modes, L'ankan suddenly realized who their attacker was... and that their orders didn't allow for his death. He clenched his claws in frustration, anger boiling over. Why did High Command need him? The venomous thought snaked through his mind, but then he resigned himself to the orders. The squad couldn't take him head on with that dissolving weapon...thing anyway. How were they supposed to capture him? Another squint at the figure confirmed his frustration, but then something further almost brought a faint smile to his face. Almost. For this something was the silvery outline of several pirate aerial drones, and they were bearing down on the figure from the front. To boot, if L'ankan wasn't mistaken, the drones were shielded, which would make them immune to an acid attack. At least, more immune than his squad. Quickly reflecting on the internal map of the Salty Dog, the Zebesian's plan came together. He clicked his fingers, then turned to the remaining pirates in the squad. They immediately stood to attention, but L'ankan waved the formalities aside. “That bastard from before is up ahead, blocking the way around the infirmary, and unfortunately, he's one of the ones we need to keep alive.” a trace of arrogance was creeping into his voice, but he kept his speaking hushed to prevent anyone from overhearing. “However, the drone reinforcements are right in front of him.” He looked back at the corridor, picking out the nearest door. “We can pass through the infirmary instead of around to get to the bridge, and let the drones handle capture of him. They will also need to distract him for us to move, but once they do, we'll go into the infirmary through that door there,” he gestured at the closest door, which coincidentally, was the farthest entrance from Alana. “We'll need to be quick. Very quick. But once I order the drones to, they'll provide the necessary cover.” The drones operated on standard comm frequencies, but were attuned to only the officers of the attack force and the Tikarez. ~~~~~~~~~~~ The closest drones to T'kran, still a corner away, were a hybrid type of an earlier Space Pirate design. While their outward appearance was strongly and clearly based off of the 'Jolly Roger' model - with two clawed arms and a central body being streamlined for speed - they also possessed a not so subtle shield generator, which enveloped each drone in a blue energy field. Behind these floated about ten aeromines; stocky, heavily shielded robots with medium firepower, but nonetheless were unable to fire with their shields active. All of them emitted a dull blue glow. There was a faint, high pitched beep as the silent transmission from L'ankan was received. They rounded the last corner between them and T'kran, coming into full view of their enemy, their foe, and their target: the rebel commando. There was a click. Then the simultaneous firing of multiple lasers from the drones. Edited by Emperor, Sep 19 2010, 12:44 AM.
|
![]() |
|
| ~The Boss~ | Sep 21 2010, 01:59 AM Post #93 |
|
Native Son
![]()
|
Grifter watched with interest as the Cat fiddled with the console, particularly when she started working with the device on her wrist. Grace had said she was a mechanic, but mentioned nothing about her prowess with computers. Perhaps she wasn't destined for the slave market after all. Perhaps disappointing to Ravage and Scragg, but more useful in the long run. With Rin'Tal dead, they could definitely use a computer tech. "Now then, all that's left to do is open the channel and upload the burst transmission I've left waiting to go. Then the fun can begin." The Cat grinned at him. "On your word." "Do it." The channel opened, and the burst was uploaded into the Tikarez's network. All they could do now was to let it do its work, and work it had better. The attackers were getting closer. While they waited for whatever the Cat had uploaded to do its work, the first mate turned his attention back to the monitors. He could track the battle more or less by the damage the ship was taking, but that only told him so much. He knew which parts of the ship were on fire and which ones weren't, but without cameras he couldn't actually see what was going on out there. Their best guess was from what they could hear of the fighting. And it was oddly quiet. Too quiet for Grifter's comfort, in fact. They should be hearing weapons fire or screams as Aiko worked her horrific magic on the attackers. Even more unsettling was how long it had dragged on. Unless it was a much larger boarding party than he had guessed, Aiko should be just about wrapping things up and reporting in by now, ready to get back on to work on the engine. "What's taking so long?" he muttered aloud. "Give her time," Grace said. "She's learning." Grifter turned to the girl, who had been uncharacteristically silent up until now. He wondered what she was getting at, which for a second took his mind off the enigmatic transmission they had just heard. It was only when he put those two together that he thought he understood. Aiko despised Grace. She didn't need to have almost killed her for that to be painfully obvious. The human had beaten her in a battle of wills and she still held somewhat of a grudge. And yet, Grifter knew Aiko had been watching her these past few months. Observing her, soaking up everything she did like a sponge. Like when a hostile fleet was bearing down on them, and Grace had Aiko intentionally raise the radiation levels and convinced the flagship that they had active nukes on board, and would detonate them in the center of the fleet if they made any wrong moves. They walked away from that encounter without a single shot being fired, and the radiation was back to normal in ten minutes. That was what Grace did. Deception was her stock in trade, and Aiko absorbed it all. Just don't play with them too much, Grifter thought. They still had a ship to fix. ......................... BANG! Jimmy's thoughts were interrupted by the gunshot. His head jerked around in the direction of the cockpit, a dozen different scenarios racing through his head at once, none of them good. Then Ben ran into the kitchen like his hair was on fire. "Jimmy I think I might have just killed Ronnie I could really use your help because I don't know if there's a medic on board and the right now the only thing keeping him from bleeding out is a freaking little girl! You can run and ask questions at the same time!" "What? What're you talking about? Hey, get back here!" It was no use. Ben was already sprinting back to the cockpit, and Jimmy had little choice but to follow him. When they reached the cockpit, he saw Ronnie lying there on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his chest. Lorrilal was on her hands and knees, trying to stop the bleeding. Only she wasn't using gauze of bloodstopper or any conventional method like that. No, it looked like... moss? Jimmy didn't question it. At this point, it barely cracked the weirdness scale. Besides, he was more concerned about the fact that his best friend had just been shot. "What the hell did you do?" he snapped, barely suppressing the urge to throttle Ben right then and there. With the look he was giving him, he may well have killed him with his eyes if such a thing were possible. "What in the Sam Hill's goin' on up in here?" came a voice from back down the corridor. "Who in the hell is dischargin' a goddamn weapon on this ship?" Nick Scanlan came practically leaping up the steps into the cockpit, looking like he had decided to wear engine grease instead of a shirt. He froze when he saw Ronnie. "Oh shit... Ronnie... what the hell happened here?" "I'm hoping it was an accident," Jimmy said, never taking his eyes off Ben. "Well c'mon, we gotta move him to sick bay," Nick said, the Marine in him taking over. "Grab his legs Jim, let's go." The two of them lifted Ronnie, who was still conscious and still had that patch of mossy stuff covering his wound. Fortunately, Ronnie was skinny as a rail. Always had been. If Nick had been the one who had gotten shot, he would've stayed right where he was. "Hey Jimmy..." Ronnie moaned as they lifted him, his eyes half open. "I think I got shot." "Really? Was hoping you wouldn't notice." "Just stay with us, Ronnie," Nick said. "Stay 'way from the light, now." "Ain't gonna be no light, Nicky..." Ronnie said. "Not unless it's from all the fire." He managed a weak laugh. "Maybe I'll see my old man down there. Never got the chance to get big enough to take a swing at that sonofabitch. That bastard Markov had to go and whack him before I even hit puberty." "Yeah, what an asshole," Jimmy said as they carried him down the stairs in the cargo bay. Just keep him talking, keep him awake and alert. "Henry took care of him though, didn't he." "Hell yeah, he did. Him and half his crew. That's when they started callin' him 'Savage,' remember?" "Yeah. Yeah, I remember." They carried him into the infirmary and laid him down on the operating table. It looked as though there had been someone living in there before. A cot still sat on one side of the room, along with a few bags, an alarm clock, a coffee pot and a mug, and a calender with pictures of scantily clad women pinned up on the wall. Apart from that, it seemed to be well stocked. Plenty of medicine and equipment, everything they could want, really. Everything but a doctor. Nick Scanlan could dress up the wound as best he could. He was no doctor, and had no medical training to speak of. But he'd been in his share of battles, had seen more combat wounds than he cared to remember. He could stop the bleeding and hopefully keep the kid alive long enough to find a doctor. But eventually he was gonna need a doctor. For now, all they could do was hope that whatever Lorillal was doing would save his life. ......................... "You can't let this stand, Jim. We can't let this stand." Jimmy and Nick stood in the cargo bay, just outside of the infirmary. Ben was plopped down on one of the couches out front. He was done panicking for the moment, although from the look of him that was only because he'd burnt himself out. Lori was in there, doing her thing with the moss. That part hadn't been in the file. "I'll handle it," Jimmy said. "Henry doesn't want-" "Fuck what Henry wants!" Nick said, harshly but under his breath. "Ain't nobody so valuable they get away with this kind o' shit!" He glared over at Ben, who was sitting there with his face in his hands. "Look, I don't give a good goddamn if he's Henry's long lost son. Ronnie dies, his ass is goin' out the airlock, simple as that." "I said I'll handle it," Jimmy shot back, more firmly this time. The two men stared each other down for a few seconds, the tension hanging in the air like a thick fog. Finally, Jimmy sighed and reached over to pat Nick on the shoulder. "Get some sleep," he said. "You look like hell." Nick stood there for a moment, then acquiesced, slinking off to the bunk he had claimed. Few people could get him to back down with just a word. Jimmy was one of those few. After Nick was gone, Jimmy walked over to the infirmary, stopping outside the door. He couldn't tell whether or not Ronnie was still conscious. He was, however, clearly still breathing. That was a good sign. The best sign. As long as his chest kept rising and falling, he knew things were okay. Jimmy Vega and Ronnie Black had known each other literally their whole lives. Jimmy could not in fact remember ever not knowing Ronnie. Their dads had come up through the streets together along with Henry, and while the boys were out doing business their moms played cards and exchanged gossip. You two were friends before you were born, Jimmy's mother liked to say. And sure Ronnie was an idiot, a loose cannon, drank way too much, and in many ways a bona fide psycho. But he and Jimmy had fought together, bled together. They went to baseball games and snuck into strip clubs and fought over girls. They survived Space Pirates and bounty hunters and the Feds and, perhaps most terrifying of all, Catholic school. They did everything but sleep with each other, which Grace would argue was what they really wanted to do anyway. Now it was all hanging by a thread. He turned around and stared down the young man who was responsible. Ben was slumped on the couch, somehow managing to look even more haggard than ever. Jimmy stood over him like a parent scolding a child. "So... you wanna explain to me just what the hell happened back there?" |
| |
![]() |
|
| +Aiko+ | Sep 21 2010, 12:07 PM Post #94 |
|
Roffel House!
![]()
|
(OOC: Kind of a filler post, I know.) The hallway hummed as a small cluster of drones debarked from one of the entry shuttles. The light blue glow of their passing was briefly reflected off the tapetum lucidum of two giant eyes, hidden beneath a cracked floor panel. There were many advantages to being small aboard a vessel, and the creature was not above capitalizing on all of them. Four stalked eyes rose through the crack, rotating in every direction, surveying the corridor. It was empty, and there was no sign of additional activity from the pressurized iris leading to the shuttle. Satisfied that the coast was clear, the creature hoisted itself out of its hiding place, and walked up to the entry shuttle's door. The iris was electrified, of course, which was mildly problematic but not unexpected. There was undoubtedly a security alarm attached to the entrance as well, but it was prepared for this. Leaving the door for the moment, it stalked off down the hall and returned a moment later with an armful of thick, heavy cables, a box of tools, and a huge battery. It grunted as it set the items aside, then started to work. Minutes later, it had wired the floor panel it had previously been hiding under to the door, and the battery was nestled in the small compartment beneath. Wires were tactfully nestled in inconspicuous grooves between floor and wall panels, making the whole mismatched device quite invisible. Then, with an anticlimactic flip of a makeshift switch, all the power that had once been flowing to the door was now flowing uninterrupted into the floor panel, the smooth displacement of power not tripping the alarm. The creature sneered in approval, wishing it could be there to witness the rude awakening when retreating pirates tried to get to their vessel only to be electrocuted after stepping on the floor panel, but alas, it had a job to do. It slipped undetected into the shuttle with its box of tools, and immediately began dissecting the shuttle's small engine. With its skilled hands, the creature finished its work in minutes. It hastily but carefully reassembled the engine casing, plugging all the sensors into a small unit shaped like a loaf of bread. It grunted, examining its handiwork, and shoved everything back into place. The unit bypassed all the sensors that would normally tell the crew that the ship was damaged, but even more than that, it was a bomb. The creature knew that main engines were never engaged until after thrusters pushed the craft clear of the boarded ship, which was the only reason a bomb was an option. If the bomb exploded while still attached to the Salty Dog, it could spell disaster for the surviving rebels. Thankfully, the bomb only got enough charge if power was sent to the main engines. The crew wouldn't know anything was wrong until they attempted a full burn, and then it was bye bye shuttle. It backed out of the shuttle with a heavy bag of engine parts and tools slung casually over its thick shoulders, and carefully hopped over the electrified floor panel as it began its journey to the Salty Dog's engine room. |
![]() |
|
| ~beflexor~ | Sep 24 2010, 09:48 PM Post #95 |
|
I just _____ in the _____.
![]()
|
(OOC: Holy moly how can you guys stand to read all this crap?? tl;dr version: stuph happens.) Nick saw that Aryon was defensive and apologetic or, at least, he appeared to be. Either way, Nick didn't move for a weapon. "No, it's fine," he said calmly. "It was in self defense. I can understand all too well. I knew her but, well, it's been a while." She looked different, she was different. "Her name was Spurious, but we called her Squirt, mostly because she was so...young." That little girl in the ship's computer, reading manga all day and squeeing over the latest heartthrob celebrity the Federation had managed to covertly come up with. It was hard to believe she was the same young woman as the one who's body lay here. A testament to a slowly creeping madness. There had been signs of it earlier on, but had Trisha's death been such a shocking blow, pushing her over the edge? "It's okay," Nick said again for good measure, unsure if he was trying to convince himself or Aryon. "We can't just leave her on the floor though. The infirmary is small but we can keep her there." He moved to pick her up, hoping Aryon would give him a hand, only to realize Squirt's body was surprisingly light. Water had pooled under it, and left his arms soaked. Nick moved to head into the infirmary when he stopped, a sudden thought occurring to him, and turned around. "I owe you one, if I'm not mistaken," he said before stepping out. It was true, Nick thought, setting the body down on the metal table of the infirmary. While he had saved Aryon from the bioattack, Nick had put him in that danger in the first place, thus nullifying both of their obligations in that circumstance. This time, however, he had already showed his best to Squirt, and she had beat him. Had it not been for Aryon's mere presence, she would have not been distracted long enough for the little lizard to grab... Nick's eyes flicked down to the hole in Squirt's chest, right between her collarbones. It was ragged on one side where most of the trauma in removing the Beflexor had been, the other side was smooth, the device nesting perfectly, just as it had in the palm of Trisha's hand. Where had that lizard gone anyway? He thought back to the initial fight with Squirt, when he'd cut her. His curiosity about her injury had been cut short, as she had shied away from him too quickly. He'd initially thought that her body was much like a human's, but that seemed to be a mistake on his part. Still, she was a scientific interest, and there was no harm in it if she wasn't alive. He reached over, grabbing a scalpel in his precise hand. As he worked, he could hear rogue transmissions coming over his system. "...please move your ship..." "...mercenary band...safety...risk...spreading..." "...Blacksun...isn't any... That voice was familiar. "Kalos-ow!" he cried, realizing he had pricked his finger at his realization. The fight, coupled with his curiosity of the aftermath, had caused him to completely forget the Chozo! They were supposed to meet up once they were away from the station. Nick had been one of the first away, and so hadn't found himself trapped by the Sabre. He moved swiftly back into the main part of his ship, setting something down, he sent out a message. "Kalos, sorry, I had some...trouble on board. What's going on?" he said, seeing the blocked ships on his scans. He was just barely on the opposite side of the Sabre himself." Pressing a few keys on the console, he played back all of the messages Kalos and Blacksun had exchanged, growing more horrified in the process. Then, he messaged Kalos again, "Heading to the opposite side of the ship could take as much as ten minutes, which is time I'm not sure we have. Hang on, let me try something." Nick opened a new channel to the Sabre and spoke with a voice of authority. "This is Niccolo Antech of the personal ship Rhododendron, I ask that you move your vessel so that others may pass. I am also giving you the warning that I played a large part on the biological attack on the space station. It was meant as a nonlethal threat, but I have much more dangerous toxins at my disposal, many of which I would not be hard-pressed to use against you. Again, I ask that you move your ship so that others can escape." He muted his side of the channel before turning to Aryon. Picking up what he had set down before, Nick approached him, his expression calming "You didn't kill her," he said, holding out what looked like a piece of white lava rock. "This is a piece of her structural makeup, which I managed to extract. Watch," he pressed it lightly between his thumb and forefinger, crumbling it with ease. "Her body just...deteriorated. I suspect that, with the Beflexor, this stuff is stronger than human bone, more like steel. Without it though, it began breaking down at an advanced rate. When we heard that snap, her structure had gotten just weak enough that you broke it. I have reason to believe that because, with it the way it is now, there's no possible way it could have made that sound. Not with how soft and porous it's become." He dusted the powder off his hands. "I was able to perform an autopsy so quickly because, well, there's really nothing to examine. It's like slicing open a doll. There are no organs, at all. Other than outward anatomical features, like breasts, she has no other features to suggest she's even female. The flesh-like material you see on the outside goes all the way through to the inside, and the only fluid was water. Perhaps most fascinating of all is that it's deteriorating. Just like the 'bone', the skin is breaking down like...like old pudding. The liquid is separating from the solid. I suspect within five minutes there will be no signs that it ever was a body. In ten to twenty minutes, there will be no trace at all. It's as though it were specifically created to be destroyed with ease once the Beflexor device has no more use for it." There was a moment of silence, then Nick burst out laughing, saying, "Oh I'm sorry, I guess I got a little caught up in it. I'm a scientist, so sometimes I find myself getting worked up over a new discovery, and that girl has always been full of them," his smile then faded slightly as he murmured, "Just like Trisha." ~ "I-it was an accident!" Ben said with wild eyes. "No it wasn't," Lorrilal corrected him immediately. She looked from Ben to Jimmy. Anyone who didn't know her would think her expression suggested accusation, but rather it was one of defense. In defense of me? Ben wondered for only a moment as he followed silently behind. The rest was a blur. Then, what roused him was the smell of stale piss. Ben sniffed, looking down and realizing he'd plopped down on not just any couch, but The Couch, affectionately called Big Bertha. Bertha had been found, literally, floating in space in orbit around a planet dedicated exclusively to beef raising. It was worn, stained, and smelled godawful, not to mention half the springs were either broken or so mashed down there was no point anymore. It was comfortable though. Trisha had often argued about wanting to get rid of Bertha, though now that she was gone, it wasn't really a problem anymore. He would trade a dozen Berthas for Trisha. When Jimmy spoke, it was like an automatic response, "I said it was an accident." "And I told you it wasn't," Lorrilal said, making Ben jump. "I require water," she explained, looking up at Jimmy, "It's likely going to be a long night and I need to keep up my reserves if I'm going to continue at this current rate. Ben," she turned back to him, "I want you to really think about what you did. I mean really think about it. You are a very thoughtful man, despite what you make others believe." She went into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a full plastic pitcher, sipping from the top. There was a moment when she paused, looking at them both, as though about to say something, then changed her mind and left. They would find out soon enough anyway. Ben was silent for a long time, half because he hoped Jimmy would just walk away and they could deal with the situation once Ronnie pulled through, or not. The other half because, well, he was seriously considering what Lorrilal had said. Finally he stood up, agitation clear in his voice. "She's right, it wasn't an accident. I aimed that gun, I even moved Trisha off to the side first so she wouldn't get hurt, I saw him clearly in my sights before I pulled that trigger. I shot Ronnie on purpose." Now he gazed upon Jimmy with an intense gaze, his blue irises like crystalline fire. "And you know why? Because he was messing with something that was mine. When I call something my own, people make damn sure they don't mess with it unless they got a purpose, you hear me? Yeah, you can blow me out the airlock, but the thing about us..." he took a couple of steps backward, his arms spread out at his sides, as though indicating a whole group around him. His smile was downright maniacal. "You take one of us out, and there will be two more to haunt you." The smile vanished, and his arms lowered, "I'm going to do everything in my power to help Ronnie pull through, because now he knows not to fuck with what's mine, metaphorically or literally." ~ Lorrilal placed her pitcher of water down and set back to work. It had been a long time since Nick had been on the ship, of course that didn't mean all of their potential for injuries had left as well. There were many times, especially recently since work had been more difficult to obtain, when Ben came crawling back to the ship. Once, he had even bet money he didn't have on an outerplanet cockfight, one of which he'd lost dismally. It had taken him until sunrise to crawl back to the ship, battered and bruised, one arm bent awkwardly, unable to see through the blood in his eyes. It had taken another hour for her to drag him into the Infirmary. From there it was a long process, one he didn't even remember a single bit of. There were other less dire circumstances. Lorrilal couldn't count on one hand how many times he had drunk himself into a stupor. If she was lucky, he usually only passed out and she had to roll him over, other times he would injure himself either accidentally or purposefully. Always, always December the nineteenth was the hardest. "Ronnie Black. Male, human" the girl said to herself, moving about the room and gathering the right materials. "No traces of any foreign heritage. Approximate age, early thirties using the Earth calendar. Height..." she stopped, looking at Ronnie. Then, unconscious or not, she spoke to him, "Why did you do it Ronnie? I mean, I know she's just a shell, a very realistic shell, but still..." She took a box cutter in hand and slid it deeply against her arm, going from wrist and elbow. "I'm sorry I have to do it this way," she continued, holding a cloth to her new wound, letting it soak up the thick, yellow ooze that came from it, "but we don't have much in the way of medical supplies. I don't think you guys knew either. People always think of defense and food first. We haven't had morphine here since Nick left, and it's going to take years until I've grown into any clothing that belong to the rest of the crew. Since then I've been mostly living in Ben's shirts." Lorrilal waited until the pain finally lessened, and the cloth began dripping. She squeezed what she could into a glass vial and started up a burner below it. "The Fae are actually a very handy race, they just never realized their potential." She watched the liquid separate in the vial as she continued to speak, "They were far too stuck upon their lore and pseudo-science to see what use they could have been if they just applied themselves. Me? I suppose I'm not exactly Fae, not really. My mother wasn't either, she hated herself for it. Her body, it disgusted her. Sometimes I wonder if she hated me too, because she was already infected when she gave birth to me." Finding the vial's contents to her liking, she removed it. Taking a syringe she hoped was sterile, she drew the topmost layer, a clear water-like liquid, into it. "I don't see myself the same way as her. I see myself as a resource, a commodity. Valuable, Ronnie. My mother had the apparent audacity to call herself Enigma, yet it is I who has no record, Federation or otherwise. I am the neorace. I am...alone." Once the syringe's contents cooled, she tapped it, letting the air out. "If I'm not mistaken, human bodies release endorphins to ease pain when they are injured. I have something similar that flows through my bloodstream. As I said, we don't have morphine, but this is the next best thing." She stuck the syringe into Ronnie's arm. "You know?" she said with a faint smirk, "You're a pretty good listener." ~ Squirt continued to stare at the doorway the young girl had come and gone through. It was like she didn't even care. The GI could hear more voices outside the kitchen, suggesting there were others nearby as well. She lay on the floor, in the very same space where Trisha had tossed the Beflexor in a seemingly careless manner. Squirt tapped the device now, which rested right where it was before it had been torn out. One moment she had been alone, in darkness, the next thing was the buzz of a cheap light. How had she gotten here anyway? How long had she been gone? Squirt lifted an arm, stifling a scream when she heard a wet shllllk and saw the skin stick partway to the cheap floor. Her whole body was slightly adhered to it, like she had been laying there for some time. Or because she had grown there. The idea unnerved her. A main problem was because something couldn't come of nothing. A body couldn't simply replicate itself out of thin air. There had to be something the Beflexor was doing to create her body. Squirt stood up, biting back more scared noises as she continued to peel herself up. There was a strange sensation on her backside that made her think it was filling in afterwards. When she looked down, however, she realized it hadn't done her the favor of growing clothes. Despite being in a place she had called home for many years, Squirt had never actually set her physical foot down anywhere on the cargo ship Grace and, as a result, had no idea where she was. Seeing things through a scanned, computerized view and a physical one were two completely different things. So, finding herself in unknown territory, frightened, hearing unfamiliar voices, she chose to hide and listen to the conversation not far away. |
| Someone made the mistake of letting me publish a book, check Dusted Here! | |
![]() |
|
| ~Bloody Pom~ | Sep 24 2010, 10:55 PM Post #96 |
![]()
Science Team has vapor for brains.
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
((OOC: Hope you're okay with all this, Emp. I'm not responsible for Fiera's actions if she gets carried away ))T'kran cringed as the doctor's voice squawked loudly from the speaker on the console. "Alert the whole damned attack force to our presence, why don't you? Look, if you're worried about unwanted visitors, go check the doors. There should be a hydraulic manual lock on both of them. Pull the levers down and that should stall anyone who wants to enter, at least until I can deal with them." He paused, a small glimmer catching the corner of his vision. They were upon him. "Please, don't let anything stop you from saving him... he's not just my captain. He gave me a home. I still have to repay him for that." The intercom clicked off. Now was his time to do just that. "Come on, then. Give me your best shot." All of the drones' shots hit T'kran. Just not with the intended effect. Instead of raising his weapon or even trying to defend himself, he'd simply stretched out his left arm and displayed his palm to the drones. A small unit on the palm had started glowing, and every shot they fired, even the solid laser beams, had arced inwards and struck it with no discernible effect. That was, until he stopped holding his hand out and parts of his armor began glowing a brilliant red hue. "Thanks for the boost." Raising his weapon, a small whining noise emitted from the device before a beam not unlike the ones the drones had fired, but much larger and more intense, erupted from the barrel of the arm cannon, completely obliterating one of the larger units regardless of the shielding. He then tore through the other machines with a single sweep of his arm. Soon, all that was left of the drone squadron was a white-hot streak on the bulkhead behind them, a few stray Aeromines and a pool of molten slag on the floor. Needless to say, it was easy enough for T'kran to dodge around the small robots' shots and shoot them down when they dropped their shields to fire. Anyone who'd watched the fight, any Pirate with even a cursory knowledge of the Tallon incident, would have recognized what had just transpired; T'kran had somehow equipped himself with an energy siphon not unlike the ones utilized in the Elite program. The rogue Pirate slowly turned, staring down the hallway that he had been facing away from. His cannon ceased glowing. Instead, the large scythe on his left forearm swung into a ready position, and T'kran threw his arms back, letting loose a mighty battle cry. "Hiding behind drones! Come out and fight me now, before I hunt you all down and eviscerate you! You call yourselves Pirates?! You're nothing but a pack of scared rats!" He was out for blood now. --------------------- Fiera grinned broadly when Grifter sent the transmission. "I would have told you all sooner, but... Well. I can't exactly run around saying 'I'm a hacker!' to every potential employer I see. Fed attention, you know?" "Right, anyway. Time to do my work. I think you'll like what I'm going to do. If everything goes according to plan, we may fly out of here with two ships." Val'Azor would have recieved the transmission by now, and little did he know, but the garbled noise and static on the screen had only been there to mask the transmission's much more sinister cargo. "A hybrid worm." Fiera said simply. "A malicious program with three distinct parts to it. Step one: the worm, an easily detected little number I cooked up in my spare time, propagates itself continuously, lagging the target system and keeping any intrusion prevention software busy trying to remove it." She paused for a moment, looking around at them. "Are you following?" Without waiting for a response, she continued, completely overcome by some kind of mad obsession with her own work. "This allows the virus itself to do its job. It effectively lobotomizes said software, causing it to report an all clear regardless of any further attacks. Finally, there's the backdoor program. This establishes a secure connection between the sender and the target, allowing me to directly access the Tikarez' network and play around with anything I want." She chuckled darkly to herself, her mouth now a full, wicked grin, all of those sharp feline teeth clearly visible. It was incredible how such an originally timid-looking girl could make herself appear so insane. "Now then, what should I do first? Vent the atmosphere and let their blood boil from the pressure difference? Make the security system go berserk? Overload the reactor and blow them to hell?" Fingers drummed impatiently on the console, the woman's green eyes fixated on Grifter. "Your choice. How should we kill our unwanted guests?" Edited by Bloody Pom, Sep 24 2010, 10:59 PM.
|
"A battle for supremacy against many foes is a battle of the best kind. There are few considerations, only those concerning where to place your next shot. It is war in its purest form." - Commander Karziel, Ultramarines 5th Company![]() ![]()
| |
![]() |
|
| ~DJChilllyPhil~ | Sep 25 2010, 01:50 AM Post #97 |
![]()
Too bad@$$ to have a FACE?! Maybe...
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
*A short series of beeps hearalded the arrival of another message.* "Huh... Is it from that Blacksun character?" *Kalos turned to look at the viewscreen again as he reached out and typed up the command to play the message. The voice of the man he was supposed to meet reached him and he calmed down a bit. At least they were now in contact, and it seemed that he was going to help him out of the situation the Chozo had found himself in.* "Heh heh... May as well reply..." *He typed in another command and something flashed across the screen...* "Well, I appreciate all the help you can provide. I'm not in any shape at the moment to go out and defend my ship. Even with the Carrier's defensive capabilities, an all-out attack from a ship of that size will still be a problem. Avoiding this would be in everyone's best interest. Get back to me if whatever you're trying works..." *Kalos sent the message out to Nick and set the ship to stay in it's current position. He then began to make his way down to the hangar level.* "If he does attack, the drones will have to be ready to respond..." |
|
"Listen well! I'll stand on top of all living things! I am now a new creature that cuts open the future!" "Weakling, Weakling!" "It's useless useless USELESS!" "WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" | |
![]() |
|
| ~CrypticOcean~ | Sep 25 2010, 02:45 PM Post #98 |
|
Parasite
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Sy'thikrus was content with silence. He was frustrated and bloodthirsty. He wanted all of his attention to be focused upon being prepared, upon making sure that he did what he needed to do before getting the hell out of here. All he had to do was stay alive. He had been living against the odds for a very long time...he just had to think that this was routine. The rest would fall into place. However, the respite would not last. He, too, heard the high-radiation warning sound off in his suit, and reflexively drew forth his energy scythe. He maintained the weapon as he heard the Lieutenant's burning question. Already, the rage and frustration boiled to the surface over the cold and controlled presence he had woven for himself. "It was..." he started, mentally cursing as his tongue refused to obey him. He quickly attempted to recover, he had no idea how the creature was capable of inflicting this upon his mind, but so long as he was aware of his restriction, he would have to forge a convincing story in the meantime until he could figure out some sort of mental loophole in the creature's wordless contract. "...some sort of concussive detonation. Something in the side of the ship's corridors went off, and I was caught in the shrapnel. It could have been the faulty wiring on this worthless piece of floating refuse, or perhaps some sort of ill-conceived trap. It happened whilst I was defending myself from the parasites, so it managed to...catch me off guard." he growled slightly, running his fingers along the "scars" of the armour. Sy'thikrus knew that he was a proficient liar when he needed to be. The Lieutenant would have no reason to disbelieve him, other than his background as a criminal. Even then, however, he had already paid the price for that, and knowing what was at stake, very few Pirates would think that he would try to be anything but sycophantic and unrelentingly loyal. However, he also knew that the Lieutenant was no fool. He may believe his story for the time being, but when that creature undoubtedly made its appearance once more, Sy'thikrus would have to acknowledge it somehow. Thinking in "if"s or "when"s was pointless at the present, however. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Or, preferably, utterly annihilate that bridge and find a different way to cross altogether. He quickly lost all concern with the Lieutenant's perception of him when he heard the sounds of conflict down the hall. There were no unearthly roars, no screams of terror. It was the familiar sound of Pirate weaponry and the destruction of drones. Looking to the Lieutenant with his scythe ready, he clacked his mandibles in anticipation. "It seems that our other squadron may need our assistance..." Then, a mighty war-cry boomed down the ship's halls, and Sy'thikrus felt his bloodlust surge forth. It was a call to arms not unlike the one he had made not too long ago. There was a true warrior ahead, one whose blade could clash against his in single combat. He glanced over at the Lieutenant one more time before moving forward, determined to make it to the front lines before an unworthy opponent took up the warrior's challenge. |
|
That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.~"Much discussed" couplet from a certain tome. "Hoohehehahahaha...AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" | |
![]() |
|
| ~The Boss~ | Sep 30 2010, 04:14 AM Post #99 |
|
Native Son
![]()
|
"Jump their ship." The three Pirates all simultaneously turned their heads in Grace's direction, as if they were on a switch. "A blind jump," she said. "No coordinates. They manage to not end up in the middle of a star, they still know not to mess with us again, and they pass that message along to High Command. But more importantly, anyone dumb enough to board will be cut off. And we all know there's only one way they're getting off this ship." Few things were riskier than a blind jump. It was Flight School 101, don't even think about it unless the only other alternative was certain death. Beyond the possibility jumping inside a star or a solid object, you might end up deep in hostile territory. Or on top of a black hole. Or maybe you simply find yourself stranded in the middle of space, with the nearest outpost farther than your fuel reserves can take you. "You heard her," Grifter told Fiera. "Make it happen." ........................ "You couldn't just hit him?" Jimmy said, still staring down Ben, his hard expression unchanged. "Pop him in the mouth, knock a couple teeth loose, that wouldn't have gotten your message across? You had to shoot him?" He sighed and shook his head, though seemingly more at the situation than at Ben personally. He turned around towards the infirmary and watched Lori operating through the window. "Look, I get where you're coming from," he said, his back still to Ben. "Another man messes around with what belongs to you, then you gotta do what you gotta do. I been there before, believe me I been there. Once or twice even when the other guy was Ronnie, so I understand. You got every right to be angry." Jimmy turned back around to Ben, getting right up in his face but not raising his voice. "You lose that right the second you pull a gun, you understand what I'm saying? I ain't talkin' 'bout no bullshit mafia code neither. I want you to forget about all that for a second. Forget about busted kneecaps or gettin' airlocked or whatever crazy ideas you got goin' through your head right now. We're just two guys talkin'." He backed up a bit, his expression loosening some, but his eyes still locked right on Ben. "She know she's your girl?" ....................... Ronnie had been listening, in fact. He was only barely conscious, and didn't really comprehend most of what Lori was saying, but then again he wouldn't have understood her if he had been wide awake, perfectly healthy, and completely sober. He wasn't exactly university material. His ears perked up a bit at her mention of morphine, but other than that it was hard to focus. Her mother... she talked about her mother. Enigma. "My dad was called Mickey," he said softly. "Got whacked when I was ten. He got caught up in a beef between the Russian crew and Chinatown... didn't have nothin' to do with us. He was just out havin' dinner with Bobby Wu... some Russian cyborg hitman come into the joint and iced 'em both." At this point, Ronnie was floating. it was a familiar sensation to him, having been under the influence of a wide assortment of chemicals in his time. He stared up at the lights, although by now it was little more than a big bright blur. His shirt had been unbuttoned so that Lorillal could get at his wound. Around his neck he wore a short silver chain with a nickel-sized medallion, engraved with the same image as on his prayer card along with the words Saint Christopher Protect Us etched around the border. "What happened to your mom?" |
| |
![]() |
|
| ~Metamyth~ | Oct 1 2010, 12:15 AM Post #100 |
|
BURMA
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Aryon sighed in relief as Nick came forward with evidence that he hadn't killed Squirt. "Well, that's one less death on my conscience, at least..." he said softly, his hand on the back on his neck. He stared as Nick sliced into the woman further, before the man spoke up again. "Oh I'm sorry, I guess I got a little caught up in it. I'm a scientist, so sometimes I find myself getting worked up over a new discovery, and that girl has always been full of them," his smile then faded slightly as he murmured, "Just like Trisha." "You might want to lay off the scientific studies when you're around me, Nick; I tend to get a bit nervous at that kind of... wait... did you say Trisha?" His train of thought was derailed as the name echoed through his mind. "...what do you know about Trishadarian Winters?" |
|
"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." Dresden Codak, Dark Science | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Sci-Fi Role Plays · Next Topic » |









![]](http://z3.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)


))



2:55 PM Jul 11