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| The Crossroads | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2010, 11:19 PM (7,032 Views) | |
| ~Metamyth~ | Jun 29 2010, 08:02 PM Post #31 |
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BURMA
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The beetle Nick swatted away was crushed by Aryon's hand and being cast aside, covered in soil and blood. "What do you mean, supposed to have been caught? Harmless?!" he spat. "Look at me!" Slowly, Aryon let go of Nick's clothing, taking a few steps backward as he pulled another syringe of nanite solution from his robes, plunging it into his arm. His hood was still down, and his robes were fitting loosely on him now, having been torn and stretched in his thrashing about; as a result, all in the room could see what was going on in his body. Already, small mounds of bloody dirt were forming around him as the nanites and mold battled neck and neck, the mold decomposing Aryon's SynthSkin as the nanites rebuilt it simultaneously. Ever so slowly, the nanites pushed forward, forcing the mold spores out of his metallic flesh. Paranoia began to take hold as he stared blankly around the room. "You're... here to kill me, aren't you? You are, I can see it, practically smell it..." He stumbled back a few more steps, nearly losing his balance. "Just more fools from the Origin come to finish me off... well, haven't you done enough already...?" A shaking finger raised up to point at Nick as Aryon spoke through gritted teeth, his vision becoming clouded. "You should already know that you killed me ... a long time ago..." Sedatives in the nanite solutions, meant to encourage inactivity and promote healing, began to take effect; he dropped to his knees, his arms dangling like wet noodles, then fell over onto his side. His breathing slowed and his body was limp as he lay in an accumulating pile of soil. He rolled onto his back with a groan... ...and fell into unconsciousness. Edited by Metamyth, Jun 30 2010, 05:03 AM.
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"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 | |
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| ~The Boss~ | Jun 30 2010, 06:51 PM Post #32 |
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Native Son
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(OOC: 'Flex, your posts are excellent as always. Only one thing though, Henry's eyes are blue. Great line, though.) Nick Scanlan stared wide-eyed at Lorrilal for a moment. in three seconds flat, she had just crossed over the line from "strange child" to "creepy child." It was unsettling, to say the least. He was actually less bothered by her discussion of Fae biology. Now that, he was prepared for, even if he didn't know a whole lot of the details. From what Jimmy told him, the Fae were like what humans would be like if they had evolved from plants rather than chimps. And that was about all they had been able to find out. According to Jimmy, he had to call in nearly every favor he had within the Federation just to find someone who would even acknowledge that the Fae existed. "So... you're saying you're a weed?" Before Lori could answer, a white van screeched up to the house and pulling up on the grass alongside the deck. A thin blond man in a basketball jersey and probably more tattoos than Lori had seen in her life practically leaped out of the driver's side. "Yo, Nicky!" he shouted in an accent significantly thicker than Jimmy's. "Hey, Ronnie!" Nick gave him a big bro hug as he came up the deck, handed him and beer and threw an arm around his shoulder like a little brother. "Kid, this is Ronnie Black. Now they say excessive drinkin' kills brain cells. Fortunately for Ronnie," he said, knocking on Ronnie's head, "he ain't got nothin' to worry about." Ronnie nodded in agreement. "If you put your ear up against my skull you can hear the ocean." His eyes caught the Grace sitting there on the river bank. "Whoa! That our ride? Jesus, Nick, where'd you find this thing?" "It's theirs," Nick replied. "She ain't much to look at, but I hear tell she got a great personality." "Yeah, well that's okay. We'll just be like a couple of Beverly Hills plastic surgeons, goin' in there, suck the fat outta her ass and thighs, slap a new pair of tits on her..." "Hey!" Nick snapped. "Watch how you talk in front of the kid." "Yeah," Jimmy said, coming through the sliding glass door. "I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is, Ronnie, you deserve it." "Fair enough," Ronnie said with a shrug. "Where's our boy?" "Inside. Henry's telling him what's what. You got the goods?" Jimmy looked over at the white van parked on the grass. "C'mon, let's get this stuff loaded up, we gotta hit the road." ....................... About and hour later, they had all of the crates loaded into the Grace's cargo bay. Most of it was rifles, ammunition, and explosives, although there were three big 486 machine guns, one of which was actually for the ship itself. Jimmy had planned on mounting it inside the cargo bay, since they were going through some hostile territory and could use some defenses. Up in the cockpit, Ronnie had thrown a bead cover over the pilot's chair and had taped a prayer card bearing the image of a Catholic saint up on the control panel. "For protection," he told Ben, offering no further explanation. They were ready to go. ....................... “..Not to mean any offense, but I've never read a Space pirate have a fashion sense." "Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?" the Pirate in the fedora growled at her. "Enough!" shouted the lead Pirate, the one with the bionic eye. He turned to Finn, or whatever her name was. "Is that the doctor?" Finn nodded. "Take her to the captain." "You heard him," Finn said, pointing her gun at Alana's face. "Let's go." She started to take Alana away, then stopped and turned back to the lead Pirate. "Grifter... something really strange is happening on this station. I don't know what it is, but this guy just started disintegrating, and then everything started turning to rust all around him. We need to leave. Now." Grifter, as he was apparently called, looked at the woman puzzlingly. "Disintegrating?" "Yeah, I know how it sounds, but we need to get the hell out of here as fast as we can." "Very well." He turned his attention to the cat woman, now curled up in the corner. Intrigued, he ran a scan on her with his cybernetic eye. Interestingly, her DNA came up as being mostly human. That would certainly shed light on her comments earlier. "What about this one?" "She's a mechanic," Finn replied. "We don't need a mechanic." "Yeah well... just do what you want with her." With that, she took Alana away. "Perhaps we can sell her on the slave market," the Pirate in the fedora snarled. "Cat ladies are in high demand in some corners of the galaxy. We'll fetch a nice profit off her." ....................... "Don't mind those guys back there," Finn said as she pushed Alana through the dimly lit corridor. "They take being pirates very seriously. Got a Jolly Roger and everything. "Oh, you can call me Grace, by the way," she said sweetly, as if she was just making conversation. "Grifter there is acting captain. Then you got Scragg with the swords and all those cybernetics, and the guy with the hat is his brother Ravage." There was an air of uneasiness that filled the corridor, and it wasn't just this woman, Grace her name was, pointing a gun at Alana's head. The walls were dotted with bullet holes and scorch marks. A few shell casings were scattered on the floor, plinking across the metal floor as they kicked them with their shoes. And there were also a few jagged gouges along the walls that looked like they were made by claws. Whatever it was, something very bad had happened on this ship. Grace pushed Alana through a door, into a room that looked to be the infirmary. Lying there on the table was another Pirate, hooked up to the equipment and a blood-soaked bandage on his abdomen. "Meet the captain," Grace said. "Alana, Cottonmouth. Cottonmouth Alana." The Pirate just lay there, unresponsive. His vitals, clearly displayed on one of the screens, were weak, but still very much active. "We were attacked," Grace said. "You ever heard of darklings? They're not quite demons from hell, but close enough. They took three of our crew, who then started slaughtering everyone else. We managed to fight 'em off, but most of us are dead." She looked at Cottonmouth there on the operating table, concern washed all over her face. "It was Buzzard. I watched him run his own captain through with his scythe. Then Cottonmouth blew his head off with a sawed-off shotgun. Literally blew his head off. Grifter did what he could for the captain, but... he's got an infection. Probably came from those dark bastards." She glared at Alana, her eyes full of venom. "Fix him," she said. "He dies, you die." Then she walked out of the infirmary and slammed the hatch shut. Edited by The Boss, Jun 30 2010, 10:22 PM.
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| ~Bloody Pom~ | Jul 1 2010, 05:02 AM Post #33 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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"Humans making deals with pirates is not a rare thing... Fiera. History has even known there to be pirate enthusiasts when they first became a very large threat." explained Fiera's fellow captive. "Yeah? Well, in the grand scheme of things I guess humans are rats of the galaxy, weaseling their way into anywhere that'll shelter them." They had to, after all. Most denizens of the galaxy were superior in every way to an un-augmented human. The Pirates talked amongst themselves for a few moments before they finally came to regard her once again. And what they said made her heart skip a beat. "Perhaps we can sell her on the slave market, cat ladies are in high demand in some corners of the galaxy. We'll fetch a nice profit off her." She wasn't sure what she was doing. Any sense of rational thought clouded up, obscured by a mixture of indignant rage and feral instinct. The cat woman went from tense but fairly harmless-looking to all claws and teeth in an instant, lunging violently at the Pirate. At least, she would have, had her arms not suddenly been grasped by a pair of large, armored hands, the pointed fingertips cutting into her skin and drawing blood. "Easy there, furball. One more move like that and I'll turn you into a throw-rug." sounded a calm but dangerously rumbling voice. The woman struggled for a few more seconds, snarling viciously, but settled when she realized she'd gain nothing but some nasty gouges on her arms. Slowly turning to look at the one who had restrained her, she froze, eyes meeting with a pair that belonged to a Pirate possibly more fearsome than all the others combined. He simply smirked. "Hi." There was a dull crack, and Fiera's world became nothing but pain, the Pirate having slammed his knee roughly into her back, flawlessly kidney-shotting her. The cat woman barely managed a pained squeak before she slumped in his arms. Unconscious. T'kran smirked and hoisted the woman's small frame over his shoulder, shrugging it and letting loose a quiet noise of disgust. He turned to Grifter, reptilian features cracking into a cruel grin. "I'll lock her up until we can find a use for her. Then I'll get to work clearing up the mess those damned Ing made." He ran a hand slowly down his face, fingers tracing a pair of partially-healed slashes that had miraculously missed both of his eyes. He'd made sure that darkling died painfully. And despite all that had happened, he still enjoyed being able to act like a true Pirate, not a perfection-obsessed lunatic like the majority of his race had become. Edited by Bloody Pom, Jul 4 2010, 01:45 PM.
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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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| ~beflexor~ | Jul 4 2010, 12:02 PM Post #34 |
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I just _____ in the _____.
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(OOC: Ah, ususally I do my homeword for descriptions. Oh well, too awesome to change.) "It was how it always worked," Nick explained. "We would set off small spores of a special kind of mold, along with other compatible plant and insect life." Aryon spoke again, making Nick panic. "No, no! I'm not-" Origin? "Wait!" he cried. "I knew someone from the Origin!" It didn't take a medic to know the disintegrating man was losing consciousness. still Nick hoped he'd heard. His pendant, the one with Trisha's ashes, slipped out from under his shirt as he knelt over Aryon, as though drawn to him. Nick stuffed it back under. He didn't know if this man would survive, but he had to save him. He slipped his arms beneath his and half lifted him, pulling him away from the main source of the bio-infection. He was heavy, but not as much as he should have been, had he been healthy. "Nick!" he heard someone hiss from a place hidden among the spreading greenery. He looked, seeing yellow eyes peering back at him. One of his comrades. "What are you doing?" he said. "I'm saving him. This was a mistake. It's the largest area we've attacked, that means a longer growing chance, and more people who could have a serious reaction to it." "We have to leave," he said, seeming to ignore Nick's words. "I'm taking him with me." "He's not family." "No," Nick admitted, "But he might know something about my family. He might know about her." "She wasn't part of your real family." "She never had to be, to anyone," Nick said quietly. "Now piss off." The eyes disappeared. "Kalos!" he cried, suddenly remembering the Chozo's name. "You should leave too. I have a ship," he pointed behind him, heaving Aryon's body up again. "It's not far, we could all leave together if you wanted. How about it?" While Nick wouldn't admit it, even to himself, the main reason he wanted others on his ship was because it would annoy the others. Family indeed. ~ Unknown to Nick, a passenger had already come aboard his ship. Squirt ran her fingers delicately across the tops of bottles, her eyes closed and her mouth partway open. Glass. Glass was smooth, and sometimes it sang to her. It was so rare to see glass anywhere. Metal and plastic were the most prominent materials. Glass was really only used in small amounts, in delicate electronics, or as jewelry for the rich. Here, glass bottles were everywhere, secured well for transport of course. The GI popped the cork off the top of one and held it under her nose. "Oh God," she breathed, finding the scent of the dried plant inside to be like lemon and honey and peaches, all of which were things she had never smelled before. Squirt held the bottle close to her as her bare feet padded down the rough stone tile to the single bedroom, which was painted a warm brown. She lay down on the rough, but comfortable sheets and closed her eyes. For a moment, she had forgotten she was actually on a ship. ~ Lorrilal laughed, her voice rich and whole. Throughout the hour as they worked, the Fae child helped, and it was as though some kind of spell had been broken. She smiled, frowned, and even cried silently when she saw Ben as they met in the small navigation room and he held his hands out and wrapped them around her. "You're going to be okay," he said simply. Everything snapped back into place for Lorrilal when she noticed he hadn't mentioned himself being okay. Her expression immediately became mild and she slipped from his grasp. She knew he was telling the truth, but it hurt that he didn't lie to her, even if she had known the truth any way. "Tell me," she said, "tell me and I will save you." Ben took a deep breath, looking at the prayer card. A card couldn't shield them from an explosion, nor could a bead cover block an atmosphere leak. Somehow, though, Ben knew there was something protecting them. "Maybe later," he offered. |
| Someone made the mistake of letting me publish a book, check Dusted Here! | |
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| ~SaintlyTurkey~ | Jul 4 2010, 05:04 PM Post #35 |
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BONEITIS!
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(OOC: Edited my post, noticed several errors.) The Shrieking Sabre stopped. If Blacksun had been sat anywhere besides his lounge, he probably would've heard the ship's complaints. The groaning of metal, frenzied warnings over the intercom and maybe even spurts of steam or more deadly substances from broken pipes. But as usual, General Blacksun was sat in his lounge, smoking a cheap cigarette through the small gap in his mask. The only thing that alerted him to the ship stopping was a message from the Captain on his battered computer... It was a necessary precaution to make sure his lounge was soundproofed both ways, considering how untrustworthy the men who worked for him were. He sat by himself in his lounge, contemplating the job he and his men had been hired to do... Or at least, what he remembered of it. He had only skimmed through the description from his employer. Something about acquiring a sample of the biological weapon that the Federation was buzzing about. From what he had read, the job would require his 'army' more than his tactical genius, so he just gave the contract to Captain Verner, and told him to get the ship there. Of course, doing a job that required his army probably wasn't the best of ideas. Sure, He had around four hundred men in his Mercenary army The Bold... But only about twenty of them were competent soldiers. The rest were stupid teenagers who joined to piss off their parents, homeless cretins joining for the promise of food and a roof over their head, and scummy criminals looking for a way to escape the authorities. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, tucking his favourite chair (the one with naked women for legs) underneath the desk, and put on his cloak, which he had put over the back of the chair. With a yawn he left the lounge and made his way to the bridge, his necklaces rattling. He passed many of his 'soldiers' on the way, some saluting, some casually greeting him and even one idiot who tried to shake his hand. They all seemed rather busy... probably trying to patch up the damage that had befallen the ship when it entered the system. He'd have to ask Verner about the state of the ship when he got to the bridge. "Ah... There you are General! We have arrived in the system the orders specified." Captain Verner gave a brisk salute as Blacksun entered the room. He was dressed in stained overalls, with a red bandana over his scalp. A huge beard covered his jaw, which was desperately in need of a comb. And a wash. "Is there any sign of the ship? What was it called now?..." Blacksun fiddled with his necklaces as he struggled to remember. Most of his necklaces had been stolen of course... the golden chains, the pearls, the silver skull pendant. The only one that wasn't stolen was the one he'd made himself. Out of teeth. "What ship General? We're looking for a spacestation." Verner asked, scratching his beard. It wouldn't surprise Blacksun if it was inhabited by lice. Verner's hygiene (or lack of it) was almost legendary aboard the Shrieking Sabre. "Spacestation huh? around what planet?" Despite his pitiful army, Blacksun had to find this weapon. The reward for bringing in the bio weapon was worth whatever risks were involved. With the vast fortune he'd earn... maybe, just maybe he'd be able to have a real army again. "Should be somewhere around this planet here General. I ain't got a clue what it's called. The thing that'd tell me broke a while back. Just a matter of tracking down the station n-Ah! There she is!" The station was hardly noticeable... only a little dot in orbit around the planet was visible, but the short range scanner had picked it up. "Very good Captain. Get us in range, and... Oh my god?!" as they drew closer to the station, it was obvious there was something wrong with it. It seemed like some parts of it were... decomposing?! Was this what the weapon was capable of? He could see why his contractors would pay such a fortune for a sample. "Captain Verner! Get us closer to the station, and take aboard any fleeing ships! Unless the ships are afflicted with whatever is wrong with the spacestation. In that case leave them be, but fire on them if they get too close." Anxiously, he fiddled with his necklaces again. Edited by SaintlyTurkey, Jul 6 2010, 12:24 PM.
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| ~DJChilllyPhil~ | Jul 6 2010, 12:32 AM Post #36 |
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Too bad@$$ to have a FACE?! Maybe...
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*The doors to the lock where the old Chozo's ship was docked opened up with a hiss, and a figure stepped out into the station once again* "At least I'll be able to fully test this one..." *There stood Kalos, now wearing a suit of powered armor that had not seen the light of day anywhere outside of his ship. It was colored in a strange combination of blue and white, with a few hints of black and green that could be seen decorating certain parts: his head as well as parts of his arms and legs. A cannon as long as his forearm was attached to his left arm, resting now in its stored position on his upper arm. On top of his right forearm was mounted a blade very similar to the one he had always used. This was now spun around so the point of the blade would not be a threat to innocents. "All systems green..." *His visor flashed white for a few moments before it switched to its idle light blue color. This was his signal to get going as he then leaped into a run, retracing his steps. The suit's ventilation systems were working as he noticed that whatever was in the air wasn't affecting his breathing at all anymore. Soon enough, he had found his stray box and picked it up easily. It was then that he heard a voice calling out his name.* "What?" *Kalos quickly looked over to whoever was calling his name. The man's face caused a memory to fire off in his mind... He was connected to people he knew...a young woman who could bend reality as well as a woman and child who were more plant than human...* "...You." *He no longer paid mind to the people around him as he made a beeline to the man, looking down at the person he was trying to lift up: the man who seemed to be melting* "Do you know what's going on here? I know about leaving... I have my own ship here, but what are you going to do?...What about him?..." *There were so many questions, though he knew some had to wait until later to even be brought up. Hopefully there would be time for all of them, but for now...* |
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"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!!!" | |
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| +Aiko+ | Jul 6 2010, 01:14 PM Post #37 |
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Roffel House!
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“You stubborn son of a bitch!” Once the long hallways of the Salty Dog hummed with power and the sleepy whispers of electronic commands, but now those corridors were dark save for the sparking, controlled nova of a high powered welder. A small human, obviously woman, lingered between the perfect, sharp clarity from the light of glowing metal and the boundary of abysmal darkness made jagged by tears in her one-piece mechanic’s uniform. Although the welder seemed too big and bulky for someone so small to handle, she wielded it with the ferocity and intensity of a samurai’s sword. Aiko was distinctly unhappy, a frame of mind that was inherently dangerous to begin with, without the immense hunger she suffered as a result of fending off an attack she had never anticipated. Darklings were supposed to be as extinct as the dimension from which they spawned, and she didn’t understand how or why they had returned. What made matters worse was that she had identified the attackers too late. There had only been three, but those three had taken out half the crew and severely injured the captain before Aiko had savaged their bodies from the inside out, weakening them enough to force their retreat. She knew they had gotten lucky. The darklings had come straight to the engine room, and they had no idea that a monster of equal strength waited in ambush. She had eaten the bodies, and the ship was eerily clean for having barely survived a catastrophe. One of her few favorite pirates, Rin’Tal, had died defending the engine room, and her answering wrath had been formidable. There was no victory, the Salty Dog had taken far too many casualties for such a claim, but between Cottonmouth’s quick thinking in the moments before he was struck, Aiko’s own bloodthirsty nature, and the almost fanatical courage of Cottonmouth’s crew, their ship had come out operational. But not without scars. Aiko’s hand reached out, sickle-shaped claws digging into the battle steel and bending it back into place as she welded the connection shut with her other hand. This job was honestly below her, but with the remaining uninjured pirates (all three of them... and Grace) out trying to get a medic for the captain, she was the only capable and able-bodied person left on the ship. A frustrated, animalistic snarl pierced the darkness as she fought with the welder. The machine was almost as ancient as the ship itself and was difficult to work with, but this particular wall shielded the main quarters from the radiation of the faster-than-light drive, and without its necessary protection, the crew would die of poisoning within hours. Aiko tilted her head as she heard voices echoing down the hall. She set the welder down and stalked through the halls, feeling far less human than she currently looked, and her patience was nonexistent. If not for Cottonmouth’s promise of freedom (which he had kept), she would’ve abandoned ship long ago. As it was, she felt an odd sense of loyalty for the old ship, and an even more odd sense of loyalty for her captain. “Grace!” hissed a voice, matched with the thud-squeak of rubberized soles on metal deck plate. “Did you find a doctor?” Aiko’s bloodshot gray eyes fell suspiciously on the feline behind the fox, then returned to Grace’s. Aiko’s disdain of doctors was legendary, but even she could not do anything for the infection ravaging Cottonmouth’s biology. |
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| +CEMP+ | Jul 8 2010, 10:53 AM Post #38 |
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Clockwork Master
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Even with the best of her courage, Alana gulped as she was taken to their captain. This was a situation she was totally unprepared for, and had no idea how to handle; the best she could do was follow their commands right now and not try something funny. "Don't mind those guys back there," Finn said as she pushed Alana through the dimly lit corridor. "They take being pirates very seriously. Got a Jolly Roger and everything." "Great, makes me feel all the more comfortable," Alana replied with nervous sarcasm. What a way to start a career, she ramarked grimly, clearly fearing for her life, try to find a nice spot on a moving science team, and I wind up having to doctor pirates. Not exactely scientificly fascination. The atmosphere and the actual damage she saw only helped to increase her unease, and that became clear in her posture as she fearfully wrapped her arms around herself, looking about as if the walls would attack. Oddly, though, as soon as she entered what appeared to be an infirmary and saw the injured pirate, her doctor instincts kicked and even before Grace spoke, her mind was already assessing the visible injuries and was slipping her handheld BAHD (Biology and Health Diagnostic) tool out of her pocket. One of aspect of her career that certainly got drilled into scientific mind of hers was the reflex to help any injured stranger, whether friend or foe. Besides, Alana had only read about pirates, but never met face-to-face with them until now. She took in what Grace had to save, but she choked on the mention of darklings. "Yes, I've read about them," she gasped, but nobody seems to know a whole lot about them. Well, except that they were ugly, wrapped in black, and were very, very mean; and the mere fact that they could possess others only bothered her even more. The venom in Finn's eyes was already enough to shoot her the message before it came out of her lips: "He dies, you die." Alana gulped as Finn exited the infirmary, feeling completely out of her zone, and, worst of all, a terrible sinking feeling. She prayed this would be a simple, easy-to-treat infection, and that the pirates merely lacked the proper equipment; but her gut told her it wouldn't be that simple. Moving with great anxiety, Alana began setting up her equipment within this run down ship, feeling an unusal mix of apprehension and grim determination as she did. |
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"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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| ~Emperor~ | Jul 9 2010, 01:56 AM Post #39 |
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Fragment
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(OOC: Hope this is alright Boss. If there's a problem, I'll fix.) “There.” The space pirate pointed to a tiny dot on the viewscreen. It was overshadowed by the nearby planet, and one nearly had to squint to view it. But it was there. “That's the station they've docked at, our long range sensors had lost them temporarily. But I'm sure of it now.” “That?” Val'Azor half scowled as he stared at the viewscreen. The 'dot' was sure to be nothing more than a nondescript federation station. He was certain of it. “Approach it,” he barked. The Tikarez moved correspondingly, and as it came close enough to identify the dot, sure enough, it was a federation station. A fairly nondescript one at that. “One has to wonder why they would come here of all places.” Val'Azor spoke irritatedly. “But...” He threw up his hands. “It's what you get with these savages.” “Bring us closer.” “Aye, sir.” was the reply, and the ship's thrusters fired again. Val'Azor slouched in the captain's chair.This was turning into a longer chase than he had thought it would. They had been chasing the Salty Dog since their brief encounter in the Dasha system before. The Tikarez had been keeping its distance though, outside of what he was sure was the Salty Dog's sensor range. They had only been passing through the normally quiet Dasha region then, when two sudden things brought about their change of course. The first was of course encountering the rebel ship; even though the Tikariz was primarily a non-military vessel, all ships with its clearance and higher had been ordered to track the rebels if spotted. Which typically would have never happened for a Science Vessel like it. Val'Azor had almost smirked at his luck. The second was the disturbance in the Dasha system. It had only been a few years since the Aether crisis, and the region of space was evidently still unstable. Very unstable. It was still a surprise, however, when they detected darkling signatures almost upon arrival, and then detected them on the Salty Dog itself. Of course, the Space Pirate vessel simply couldn't ask if the rebels were under attack from Ing. Nobody dealt with them, and doing so would have been foolhardy. Tracking them had served its purpose well enough anyway. Val'Azor sighed, blankly staring at the viewscreen as his thoughts churned in his head. High Command was getting moody lately on top of everything else. Finding the rebels would no doubt get them off his case, he figured, even if only shortly. Though it would have to wait until they got out of Federation space and could contact the nearest fleet. And then he could go on his merry way. “Sir.” The spoken words interrupted his thoughts, and Val'Azor quite irritatedly turned to the corporal who spoke. Before he could say anything though, he was interrupted again. “Sir! It looks like there's.... there's something disintegrating the station.” Don't cut me off corporal! Val'Azor almost snapped, but the corporal's words stopped him. “Disintegrating...? In what way? Stations don't disintegrate on their own, and we didn't detect any weapons fire before.” “Here, look - “ The berated pirate flicked a switch near him, and the viewscreen zoomed in onto the station. Val'Azor stared. Entire swaths of it were discolored and literally falling apart, in what was not unlike an advanced state of decay. “.... Interesting,” he finally spoke. “Do a more thorough scan, and bring us in closer still.” It hadn't escaped him that there were still ships docked, and they hadn't decayed. The corporal nodded, and the Tikarez began to slowly edge closer. There was one other approaching ship to its left, though they evaded coming into line with it directly. The Tikarez and its entire line were of an odd design, even for the Space Pirates. They wouldn't be recognized as a Pirate vessel by most people, a fact that would hopefully work to their advantage. The distance between the station and the vessel began to shorten... Edited by Emperor, Jul 9 2010, 01:58 AM.
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| ~The Boss~ | Jul 11 2010, 12:15 AM Post #40 |
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Native Son
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"Huh? What?" Grace was thrown off for just s second; she wasn't used to Aiko calling her by name. Every time she did it, it just felt wrong. She'd grown so accustomed to being "Hey you" that the sound of her own name was strange to her. She mostly kept her distance from Aiko anyway. Their little encounter had been the start of a long, dark period in Grace's life, one that she wasn't sure was quite over yet. First there was the X infection that nearly killed her. She still didn't understand it exactly, but Aiko had eventually healed her, however reluctantly. That all happened in less than a day, but the recovery process had been long and painful. And as if that weren't enough, she wound up addicted to her meds. But she'd shaken that now, and finally felt as if she was getting back to some sense of equilibrium. And then the attack happened. It had been brutal. Those things... they were hard to kill. She remembered Digger (or the twisted black thing that Digger had become) coming at her with both of Scragg's swords stuck in him. Nothing she did could drop him, not her pistol, not Rin'Tal's plasma blaster, not even setting his face on fire with her lighter and a spray can of lubricant. Had she not dove into a crawl space he was too large to fit into she likely would have been among the dead. It wasn't until Aiko did... whatever it was she did to him that he finally went to the ground, though still alive. Until Grace gathered her senses and remembered that swords could be used as weapons, then pulled one of the blades from his body and decapitated him. Grace had encountered a darkling once before, but that had been brief and painless. Physically, anyway. It had looked human, but it most certainly was not. She knew for sure once it started digging into her mind, and she saw that horrific black creature in her thoughts. The Pirates knew of these things, knew them very well indeed. But Grace was a superstitious woman. To her, the darklings seemed to be evil spirits. Even after Scragg explained exactly they were, she still held onto that belief. They certainly sounded like evil spirits to her. "Yeah..." she finally said. "Yeah, I found the doctor." She leaned up against the wall, her head back, eyes closed. She looked like she was about to fall asleep right there. "S'posed to be really good. An expert. Told her if she didn't save the Captain that I would kill her." She looked Aiko in the eye. Grace would always feel some level of trepidation around her. They'd never be the best of friends, but at least now it seemed like there was some kind of understanding between them. .......................... "I'll lock her up until we can find a use for her. Then I'll get to work clearing up the mess those damned Ing made." "Deal with her later," Grifter replied to T'kran. "Right now, I want you to tap into the security network. I want to know exactly what is happening on this station. Monitor the situation and keep me posted on any and all developments. If we have to, we'll jump away while we're still on the hangar deck." The first mate snarled. Tearing a hole in the station would be catastrophic, but if what Grace was saying was true, that might be nothing compared to the potential damage of this disintegration. .......................... Just a few short hours ago, the Grace had been a ghost ship. Eerily silent save for the rattling hum of the engine and occasional tiny footsteps on the metal floor, echoing through the empty corridors. Now, the ship once again teemed with life. Especially in the cockpit, where music was blasting at full volume, the thundering bass beats shaking the whole ship, accompanied by lyrics about bitches and hos and poppin' caps in peoples' asses. Plumes of cigarette smoke drifted and swirled through the air in a strangely beautiful ballet that didn't seem to match up with the music. Starmaps were scattered all over the place, covered in all sorts of notes and scribbles, only a few of which were intelligible. Ronnie Black sat with his feet up on the control panel, intensely poring over one of the maps, his head bobbing to the beat. He had been busy plotting their course, but it wasn't easy. the quickest path to their destination would take them through a pretty treacherous region of space. Namely the Cerenkov cluster, which was a war zone. The Federation had been at war with the Kriken empire there for the better part of five years now. A long, brutal conflict that had long since dragged on into a bloody stalemate. So Ronnie didn't necessarily want to travel through there. The solution was to go around, but again, there were no easy options. Going around to the south (or whatever counted as south out in space; it was south on the map, in any case) would add at least another week onto their journey with still no guarantee of safety from outlying hostiles. Going around to the north would take them straight towards a black hole. He sighed, putting his feet down and his elbows on the panel, cradling his head in his hands. He glanced up at the saint on the prayer card. "So whatd'ya think, Chris?" he asked it. "Scylla or Charybdis?" His eyes went back down to the map. No easy decisions. "Who needs a drink?" Ronnie headed out of the cockpit and down into the bowels of the ship, towards the passenger dorms. Jimmy had put all their bags in one, then they'd all figure out where they were gonna sleep later. "Hey Jimbo!" he shouted out as he rummaged through some of the bags. "Where'd you put that booze?" Not finding what he was looking for, he left that room, and peeked into the one right next door. And his face went white as a sheet. .......................... "Oh yeah, look at that," Nick Scanlan said, shining a flashlight into the crawl space underneath the metal floor panel. "I see where them little bastards got in there. Oh man, and they chewed it up good, too. They patched it up okay, but see? It's already coming off." "Alright," Jimmy said, fiddling with the electrical tape. "I want all this changed out, first chance you get." "Will do, Jim." They replaced the panel on the floor. "It's not too bad. Without all that patchwork now, we'd definitely be feelin' lightheaded here real soon. Shouldn't be to big a job." Jimmy nodded. "What about the engine?" "She ain't as bad as you might think. Just needs a little love and attention, that's all. Eventually though, we are pro'ly gon' have to replace it." "How long's eventually?" "Dunno, could be six months, could be six years. Hard to say. But we should pro'ly do it sooner rather than later." Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim!" came a shout from down below. Loud footsteps, someone running towards them fast. Then Ronnie Black appearing at the top of the steps at the end of the hall, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "Jim we gotta get the hell outta here right now!" "So? You're the pilot," Nick Scanlan replied. "Get us outta here." "Nonono you guys don't understand, we gotta get off this fuckin' ship like right now! Like right fuckin' now! Do you hear me?" "Whoa, whoa, slow down there, killer," Jimmy said. "We're in space here, it's not like we can just open up the door and get out. What the hell's the matter with you? What're you all freakin' out for?" "Dude, this guy's a fuckin' psycho killer, man! He's got a bunch of dead chicks stashed in one of the bedrooms! Man, we ain't about that crazy shit!" "Ronnie!" Jimmy yelled, stopping just short of slapping him. "Shut up! Calm your ass down, shut up and listen to me. They ain't dead. You hear me? They're catatonic, and they're clones. So just calm the hell down, okay?" Ronnie stared back and Jimmy, a bit calmer now but very confused and not all reassured. "What? What's catatonic?" "Means they ain't all there," Scanlan muttered. "Means they ain't there at all," Jimmy said. "It's like being in a coma, but not. Like... like a mental coma, you know? You understand what I'm saying?" More of that blank stare from Ronnie. He didn't understand. "Look, you remember that story I told you about the chick with the metal disk attached to her hand? Remember I told you I followed her to that weird library, and Travis Clark was there, but then I blacked out and woke up in a motel room in Montana of all places, you remember that?" Ronnie shook his head, and Jimmy sighed in exasperation. "Well look, she could like bend reality or some shit. She used to be part of Ben's crew, but she's dead now. And all those girls you saw there in that room, they're all clones of her, only they're a bunch of fuckin' turnips." He could see that Ronnie was still very confused. "Look, point is, you roll with these people, you're gonna see a lot of weird shit. It ain't like dealing with the Italians or the Russians or the Yakuzas. It ain't even like Pirates and bounty hunters." "He means we ain't in Kansas no more," Nick Scanlan said. That, Ronnie seemed to understand. "Alright, now if there ain't nothin' else you wanna bug me with," Jimmy said, "let's go get that machine gun set up." He motioned back down the corridor towards the stairs to the cargo bay. Nick followed, and Ronnie jogged after them. "Hey Jim," he said, now many times more relaxed than he'd been a minute ago. "So if those girls are all catastrophic or whatever, that mean they're like awake? Can they like, remember shit?" "Oh my god. Ronnie..." Jimmy turned and glared at his friend. "You're gonna have to say like twenty Hail Marys just for thinking that." |
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2:55 PM Jul 11