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| The Crossroads | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2010, 11:19 PM (7,021 Views) | |
| ~Bloody Pom~ | Feb 22 2011, 01:41 AM Post #131 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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Just when Fiera thought things couldn't any worse, a female voice had boomed down the hallway and into the bridge, quickly bringing with it a lull in the combat. Good thing, too. She was out of bullets. And then Grace decided negotiations were out of the question. And everything went to hell again. All Fiera could do was stay out of the line of fire. ----------------------- It was still dark in many parts of the ship. The recent firefights were to blame for that, along with damage to a few tertiary systems caused by the damaged jump drive, not to mention the parasites chewing on power cables. Dark, warm and full of easy prey. Perfect places for an Ing to mature. T'kran was going to make sure he checked all of them. As he ventured further into the blackout area, T'kran made sure to switch over to thermals, his world becoming an inky, purple sea of cold metal criss-crossed with the orange warmth of power lines and vermin scurrying around in the ducts. 'We need to hire a pest control service' was one of several thoughts floating around in the Pirate's mind, another being what he was planning to do with the intruders if the rest of the crew didn't kill them first. A loud clang sounded from nearby, bidding him to stop and scan the vicinity. All too late did he notice the warning indicator pointing to a large heat source directly above him. The ceiling gave way with a sickening screech of sheared metal, depositing a large number of parasites onto T'kran, all of them consumed by the same darkness that had reanimated his fallen crewmates. The Pirate roared with panic and frustration, dozens of tiny mouths gnawing at his armor and causing his visor to fill with hazard warnings. Without thinking, he began throwing himself against the walls, trying to crush or scrape off his assailants. When that didn't pan out as he had hoped, he decided to do something drastic and, possibly in hindsight, very stupid. Bringing his scythe to bear, he jammed it into the wall, striking a live power link. His vision gave way to static as several thousand volts of electrical current arced across the surface of his armor, his shields sparking and flickering. Whatever damage it caused to T'kran, however, it did far worse to the parasites, which began to catch fire, their bodily fluids boiling and beginning to burst out from their hard outer shells. The stench of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air as T'kran furiously tore his blade from the wall. Tiny charred bodies slipped away from his figure as he sunk into a crouched position, malfunctioning servos in his armor causing him to twitch erratically while the auto-repair systems began. Every muscle in his body ached. Still, it was better than being eaten alive, that was certain enough. (OOC: Dead Space, T'kran style) Edited by Bloody Pom, Feb 22 2011, 01:47 AM.
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"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![]() ![]()
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| +Aiko+ | Feb 22 2011, 04:23 PM Post #132 |
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Roffel House!
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(Mild auto here, Jefe, hope you don’t mind!) The creature roared in fury. Its sensitive nose was clogged with smoke, and despite being in the relative safety of the hallway outside the bridge, enough shrapnel had ricocheted into the narrow space that it was peppered with metal. None of the injuries were life threatening, but collectively they were an expensive nuisance. Grace seemed to be spared of obvious injury. The creature had apparently taken the majority of the blow. That didn’t, however, spare the human woman from the creature’s frustration. Claws snagged on Grace’s shirt front, tearing quarter-sized holes through the fabric as the creature slammed Grace against the wall. “Bitch!” the creature snarled through gnashing teeth, its four smaller eyes locked onto Grace’s own two. “I am getting very tempted to infect every single asshole on this ship and take over the whole process myself! It would be far more efficient than to watch you monkey and insect brains fumbling around like idiots!” The creature slammed its other hand onto Grace’s face, pinning her completely. A sticky green substance slowly oozed out between the creature’s fingers and along its palm. It stretched like watery plaster until it glued itself across Grace’s nose and mouth, keeping her from speaking or breathing. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it,” it said in a sickly calm voice. “I spared you once, and I’m sparing you now. There will be no third chance. My responsibility is to keep the ship running, not for your sake, but for mine. Remove that obligation by making the ship irreparable, and you’ll see just who, really, has the power here, meat.” The creature dropped Grace with furious disdain, then shook itself like a dog. The shrapnel flew out of its skin like water from fur, showering the floor with small chunks of metal. “The pirates are nothing. The Ing must be destroyed before we do anything else, stupid human.” |
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| ~The Boss~ | Mar 6 2011, 12:19 AM Post #133 |
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Native Son
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Scragg let out a roar that was as primal and ferocious as anything that the creature could muster, and the three Pirates all drew their weapons, pointing them at the Aiko-thing's head. Grace dropped to the floor, frantically tearing at the goo on her face, coughing and gasping for air as it finally came off. "This is our ship!" Grifter growled. "You will do best to remember that, Parasite!" Despite his anger, calling her "Parasite" was not actually intended as an insult. It was how the Pirates always addressed her. It was more of a title than anything else, like "Captain" or "Doctor." "Grifter no," Grace said, dragging herself up off her feet. "She's right. There's still a Darkling out there. We have to do something about that." She turned to Aiko, staring her eye to eye. It looked like there was still some measure of defiance in the human's eyes. "After you," she said. The second Aiko took one step out the door though, Grace slammed the hatch shut behind her. "Insect Brain!" she shouted, locking the hatch tight. She bolted down the stairs towards one of the consoles and practically pounded on three buttons, opening up the main cargo bay and both the port and starboard airlocks. "What are you doing?" Grifter demanded. "Killing two birds with one stone," Grace replied. "Or actually..." she she trailed off and started counting mentally. "Four," she said, holding up her fingers. "Four birds, one stone." ........................ "I know this might sound strange of me to ask, considering the position I'm in, but tell me how you're feeling? I mean, aside from the obvious fatigue." Cottonmouth tried to sit up, but the wound in his side screamed at him, forcing him to lay back down. "I could use something for the pain," he said. He still held the revolver in his hand. It was of human manufacture, and obviously very, very old. Definitely predating space travel, and probably even air travel. Like something Wyatt Earp may have worn on his hip. The Captain tried to digest everything Alana had just told him, but it all sounded so very complicated. It was hard for him to focus at the moment. He understood that there was an infection, and while he didn't quite grasp all her words he assumed that it came from those black bastards. So, as he lay there gazing at the ceiling, he decided to just stick with the basics. "How many of my crew live?" he asked. ........................ "Are you insane?" Grifter shouted. "I'm sure that's been asked many times," Grace muttered dryly, though the First Mate ignored her. "T'Kran is still out there! The Captain is still out there!" "The Captain is sealed up tight in the infirmary. And T'Kran has a pressurized suit. T'Kran will be fine. Just remember to pick him up." Grifter was about to say something, then stopped. He was so angry he couldn't even get it out. Then he walked away grumbling something in Zebesian, very little of which Grace understood. She thought she heard the words for... was that goat licker? And there was definitely something in there about inserting an object into an orifice, but she was unable to discern precisely what object and which orifice. ........................ Quickly as he could, Jimmy snatched the gun away from Squirt before she could change her mind. Only then did he allow himself to exhale. "Nick, get her some clothes," he said. "And while your at it, put a shirt on yourself." Nick nodded and disappeared down the corridor. Jimmy stuck both guns into his waistband and bent down to try and revive Ben. He shook him, slapped him in the face one time, but the kid only moaned a bit and slumped back down. When Nick reappeared, he was still shirtless, but he had something for Squirt: a white and green #12 football jersey that actually matched her hair. "That's... my Joe Namath jersey," Jimmy said. It was the jersey Grace was never allowed to wear, which meant of course that she wore it all the time. And when Jimmy would tell her to take it off, she did so... right then and there, no matter who was standing in the room at the time. "It's the only thing you got that's big enough for her to cover up." "And why couldn't you have gotten some of your own... never mind. Here girl, just put this on." As he handed her the jersey, the PA speakers squealed and crackled, and a voice that could only belong to a Pirate came creaking through. Federation ship... surrender your vessel to us immediately... and your cargo too. "Goddammit goddammit," Jimmy muttered, "we gotta get the hell out outta here. Nick, you know how to fly one of this things, right?" "Yeah." "Alright. Well then get us the hell outta here." "Can't do it, Jim." "You can't? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "Can't do it. It takes two people to fly a Junebug. One in the cockpit, and one in the engine room. Shit, an old bucket like this don't even jump unless she's on full burn." Jimmy thought for a second. "You mean like how you gotta be going 88 miles per hour to travel through time." "Exactly. And I can't do that by m'self. At best we get about thirty, forty miles away 'fore they chase us down and blow our ass to hell." The two of them stood there in silence for a second, deep in thought. Something had to be done, they knew that much. They needed to run, and they needed to run fast. This ship didn't stand much of a chance against a Pirate vessel of any kind, even a science vessel. "Alright," Nick finally said. "Get down to the engine room, get on the intercom, and do exactly as I say." |
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| ~Emperor~ | Apr 6 2011, 11:21 PM Post #134 |
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Fragment
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((OOC: Sorry for the wait.)) Val'Azor stared at the bulky Federation cargo ship through his viewscreen, a growing sense of annoyance fierce within him. He hadn't expected cooperation from them, of course, but a refusal was better than silence. It didn't matter. He turned his head slightly at this acknowledgment, then pressed down on a nearby comm button with his claw. “How ready is the boarding party?” The speaker cackled once, then another pirate's voice came across it clearly. “Almost, sir.” “Good. I want them briefed on what they'll be doing, right now.” He flicked the comm link off, then stared at the ship again, thinking hard. Maybe their crew needed some incentive. The pirate half-smiled, then focused his attention to a nearby officer. “Corporal, fire a warning shot from a plasma turret at the ship. Any one. Miss them intentionally, but, “ he paused. “Cut it close.” There was a nod. The captain watched the ensuing arc of red plasma stream past the Grace, barely missing its hull. It wasn't like they knew what their ship was going to be used for anyway. ~~~~~ “That went well.” L'ankan ground the words out forcibly, all the while picking shrapnel out from his armor. “What other brilliant tactical moves do you have, Na'ruten?” The zebesian pirate flicked another shrapnel piece off, then stared at the Lieutenant, who had been agitatedly silent. L'ankan had managed to get out of the bridge in the ensuing chaos from before, though he had had to force his way through. And on top of that, his armor was more damaged than he had thought, further adding insult to injury. “We need control of the bridge.” Na'ruten spoke. L'ankan very nearly rolled his eyes at the Lieutenant's blunt statement. Na'ruten hadn't noticed, his gaze was fixed at the hallway they had both came from. They were stopped just across from the bridge access halls, though the rebels didn't seem to be following them. Which was odd. “Yes we do,” L'ankan finally answered. “But in case you hadn't noticed, we can't take it from the front, where we have access.” Anger was seeping through his voice, though he quickly cut it. He was loathe to admit it, but their initial plan had failed. Again. Expecting some sort of response, L'ankan was puzzled when he got nothing. About to speak, he was promptly cut off by Na'ruten, who then spoke. “Quiet. Do you hear that?” “Hear what?” It was a dull sound, but gradually grew louder. At first he couldn't tell what it was, but then he realized it sounded like a rushing noise – like rushing air, as if all the air was moving.... out. L'ankan started. That was precisely what it sounded like, and on a ship, that could only mean one thing. “Did they just...” He didn't finish his sentence, as a resulting pull on both pirates answered it for them. "Hell." Edited by Emperor, Apr 6 2011, 11:23 PM.
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| ~beflexor~ | Apr 10 2011, 12:10 PM Post #135 |
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I just _____ in the _____.
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Squirt slipped on the jersey with carelessness, her eyes blinked rapidly for several seconds, finding it was surprisingly…comfortable. She looked at Jimmy, hoping to salvage something despite their tense meeting. “Thanks,” she muttered, despite the fact that it was Nick who had gotten it. Then, “I can help rework some of the systems. I used to live on this ship, and I know her inside and out. It was bought used at a Federation junkyard and a lot of the systems were locked down, we were never given the passwords. If I can find a console stable enough, I might be able to override some of the securities. I can get this thing running hotter but faster…and more explodie, but that’s not important,” she waved a dismissing hand. “What’s important is I can get us to jumping speed twenty percent faster by myself, it’s not enough to get away before pirates blow us apart, but if we work together we have a chance.” And, in exchange, I get to keep one of you. She walked away before she had the chance to say it. ~ “Ouch!” Lorrilal said as the spinning turbines of the engine room ripped the tip of her finger off, coming full circle and spitting it back out at her. She bit her lower lip and waited patiently as the stub regrew, the piece of flesh stark white, coloring to become a pale green, then finally fleshy pink. She heard a noise above, deciding to slip out of the room before anyone could find her. Now wasn’t the time to ask questions, and she hadn’t been able to fix anything anyway. Ben was always in charge of that, granted, Lorrilal kept the thing from blowing up on occasion, but she didn’t know how to use the tools, what the readings meant, or where that particular 7/8 inch bolt went. Of course, that 7/8 inch bolt had fallen off years ago, and no one knew where it went, so it stayed on a shelf gathering dust. A decorative moot point. As she passed through the walkway, the entire ship shuddered as a shot sped by. Lorrilal gave a shudder of her own and patted the wall. “It’s okay,” she said to the Grace. “We’ve been through worse. Remember the rats?” She hurried, her feet light but quick, a small figure ducking and weaving her way through to where she needed to be, looking inconsequential, a simple girl. Within moments she was back in the infirmary and, after making a quick check on Ronnie, her fingers flew across a keyboard, opening a channel to the pirate vessel. “Hi,” she said sitting down, her voice sounding quite young and nonchalant as she rested her chin on her crossed arms. “What’cha doing?” |
| Someone made the mistake of letting me publish a book, check Dusted Here! | |
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| ~The Boss~ | Apr 17 2011, 01:56 AM Post #136 |
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Native Son
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Ronnie... Wake up, Ronnie... "Hey Ronnie, wake up, boy!" The harsh scolding snapped Ronnie out of his trance and back to the dinner table. His father sat across from him, the old man's scowl as twisted and mean as ever. Next to his dad sat Bobby Wu, the underboss of Chinatown. They were at Bobby's joint, the Yangtze Yankee. It was a classy place despite the goofy name. Ronnie had been here hundreds of times growing up. Everything was always on the house. "You gonna order anytime soon?" Mickey Black said. "The Russians will be here any minute now, and I'd like to enjoy my last meal a bit before I get shot, if that's all right with you." "I uh..." Ronnie stammered, over at the waitress. "I guess I'll have the szechuan chicken." Their server nodded, jotting down his order and collecting their menus. He looked at her again. The waitress was just a little girl. And yet, she spoke like an adult, very flat and serious-like. "...and my name is Lorrilal," she said, clicking her pen. "If you need anything, just let me know." Ronnie looked across at his father, who was still scowling at him. The old bastard was never in a good mood, least of all today. It was understandable, though. He was, after all, about to get shot nine times. And even then, he'd get off light compared to Bobby Wu, the guy they were really after. They put eleven bullets in him, and then three more right into his head after he was already lying on the ground. "And yet here you are, wussing out over one little bullet!" said his dad, as if reading his thoughts. "Man up, you little pussy! What happened, your mother cut your balls off without me around to stop her?" Lorrilal returned to their table with a pitcher of water, and proceeded to fill up Ronnie's glass. "Water is the source of all life in the universe," she said to him. "No matter what form it takes, everything requires water in order to survive." "She means drink up," said Bobby Wu. "You're going to need all of your strength." "What strength?" Mickey sneered. "Look at him. Skinny as a rail and softer than cotton candy. Bet if I flicked him in the ear, he'd start bawling like a little baby." "Um... Ronnie?" said a female voice over his shoulder. "Do you have a minute?" He turned around to see a tall, slender brunette standing over him, her hands in her pockets and a very nervous look on her face. He most definitely recognized her, but from where, he couldn't be sure. "Uh, yeah... yeah, I guess so." He turned back around to meet the disapproving stares of Bobby and his father. "Uh, dad, Bobby this is, uh..." "Trisha." "Trisha. Yeah, Trisha. Hey, you mind if we...?" "Oh no, sure son," his father said. "I'm only about to get murdered over here. But you gotta go talk to some bitch you plowed who's probably about to tell you she's pregnant judging by the look on her face. So go on ahead, take all the time you need." Ronnie dismissed his father's outburst. The old man was always pissed off. Mostly at him, but at the universe, too. He took Trisha by the arm and led her out the front door, and they stopped out on the sidewalk to talk. The first thing he noticed was how cold it was outside. That's right, he remembered. It had been mid November when his father died. A particularly bitter cold night in New York City, the kind that made your bones ache. Ronnie pulled his jacket tighter around himself, though Trisha didn't seem at all bothered. "So..." she finally said, staring right into his soul with those big steely grey eyes of hers. "I... I just want you to know that I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't mean for you to get hurt. Something is happening right now. What, I don't know, but whatever it is, it's big. And your and your friends... you got caught up in the middle of it all. You weren't supposed to be, but you did. And now..." A single tear streamed down Trisha's cheek. She reached up with her left hand to gently touch his face and gave him a sad little smile. "I wish I could tell you that you're a good man, but we both know that's not true. Then again, you really don't know any better, do you? You're not right, Ronnie. Something's broken." Ronnie didn't know what to say. What could he say to something like that? Defend himself? Agree with her? Tell her yeah, I really am the sick bastard Jimmy always said I was? Over by the restaurant door, he saw a dark-haired man in a black pinstripe suit leaning against the wall. Ronnie thought he recognized him, but he couldn't be sure. The man casually smoked a cigarette, and when he exhaled it was hard to tell what was smoke and what was his own breath hanging in the frigid air. The dark-haired man stared at him, his eyes burning holes right through him. His gaze was... hypnotic. "O Danny Boy..." the man softly sang, a wicked smile creeping across his face. "The pipes, the pipes are calling..." Trisha hugged Ronnie tightly, breaking the man's spell over him, and started sobbing into his shoulder. "Nothing is right. Everything's wrong, all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this." She looked into his eyes again, and not knowing what else to do, he tenderly wiped away her tears. She smiled at him again, and suddenly he forgot all about the cold. "You have to help them," she said. "They're lost, all of them are. Especially Ben. He's the key to it all, but either he doesn't know it or he won't accept it. He needs your help. Or we'll lose everything." Trisha fiddled with the silver medallion around Ronnie's neck. "Pray for me," she said. Ronnie stared back into her eyes, and for the first time, he thought he understood. "You're in Purgatory." She nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am." ........................ Back in the infirmary, Ronnie stirred on the operating table, the first signs of life he had showed since going under. His eyes were still closed, but he was awake now, and moaned softly. Then he spoke, the sound of his voice barely above a whisper. "Hail Mary... full of grace..." ........................ Nick strapped himself in the pilot's chair and shoved aside Ronnie's starmaps from off the console. He himself had never had any formal flight training, and wasn't nearly as good in the cockpit as Ronnie, but he knew what he was doing. Nick Scanlan may have been a meathead, and proudly admitted so himself, but he wasn't as stupid as he looked. "Alrighty girl," he said to Squirt, who had followed him into the cockpit. "Now don't touch nothin' till I say so, okay?" He flipped the switch on the intercom. "You hear me down there Jim?" ........................ "Loud and clear, Nick." Walking into the engine room was like walking into a sauna. Ships tended to be cold, this being space and all. But down in the guts of the ship where all the moving parts where, it was considerably hotter. Jimmy noticed that Nick's ice chest was still down there. There wasn't any beer left, but there was still some ice that hadn't melted. That would definitely come in handy if he needed to cool off. "Okay. Now there's a great big ol' lever on the base of the engine core. Go ahead and pull down on that, that's gon' take us to full burn." Jimmy found the lever and did as Nick instructed. The core started spinning faster, and the whole engine shook violently. "Uh... Nick? It's uh... it's starting shake pretty bad." Jimmy was by no means comfortable down here. Cars, he understood. A lot of people said that spaceship engines were basically the same, just on a bigger scale. Those people were lying sonsabitches. "Don't worry 'bout that, Jimbo, of course she gon' shake. This clunker's older'n I am, I'd be surprised if she don't shake." "If you say so..." Jimmy replied nervously. As the engine rattled the room, he noticed a bolt get shaken off a shelf and clank onto the floor. He picked it up and examined it, quickly realizing that he didn't have a prayer of figuring out where it went. Without thinking about it, he stuffed the bolt into his pocket. The Grace zipped off, leaving the Tikarez in the dust. Of course, it wasn't long before the Pirate vessel began the pursuit. They would need to do a bit more than step on the gas if they wanted to get out of this alive. "Alright, now once we get going fast enough I can talk you through the jump sequence. For right now, why don't you go ahead and ease up on some of them pressure valves so she don't go and blow up on us. They should be on the starboard side, so if you're facing the front-" "I know what 'starboard' means, Nick!" ........................ "Okay girl," Nick said, his grip tightening on the controls as he served to avoid the incoming fire. "Do your thing." |
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2:55 PM Jul 11