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| Corruption: The Aftermath; ...Let the corruption begin again... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 10 2008, 03:47 AM (8,292 Views) | |
| ~The Boss~ | Jan 29 2008, 04:40 PM Post #21 |
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Native Son
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Keeler sat in the mess hall of the Silverado having lunch with some of the other crew members. They were all laughing, telling stories and dirty jokes and having a good time. Most of them were unaware of the true purpose of the mission, but that was the nature of their position. They had their orders, they did their job and didn't ask questions. A few had heard rumors about Phazon, but there was very little beyond that. None of them had noticed Keeler's eyes either. He'd had his cap pulled down low most of the time to prevent being recognized, as a quick scan of his face would pull up his extensive criminal record. It had taken a member of the Phazon team who was trained to recognize the symptoms to notice what was happening. Most everyone else would (and did) write it off as a trick of the light. Still, the crewmen at the table were totally unaware. Including Keeler himself. He didn't even know that anyone was looking for him. And thus, was in no hurry to get anywhere. ................................... The sun shone brightly over the 14th hole at the country club. Rand Barton, Bart to his friends and colleagues, stood at the tee box studying the 3D holomap of the hole. Every tree, every hazard, every curve and contour of the course was perfectly recreated in the virtual image, allowing the golfer more detailed study of the hole he was about to play. Rand Barton was no ordinary golfer, however. He was the Federation's director of military intelligence. It was no ordinary day on the links, either. His partner was Jack Reed, a young GF senator and co-chair of the intelligence committee. And he was very concerned about a news article about Jessie Falcon he had read and accompanying rumors that had been swirling around. Barton and Reed had a contentious relationship. Reed and his mentor Pat Conway, the other co-chair, were a pair of junkyard dogs. They were an odd combination those two. Reed, a young, dynamic left wing populist; and Conway, the older, curmudgeonly right wing populist. What they had in common though was their shared commitment both to fight for the little guy and to root out corruption where they saw it. And they saw plenty at GFMI. As much animosity as there was between the senator and the intelligence chief though, they were civil enough to enjoy a around of golf. In fact, it was on the course where so many of the proverbial backroom deals were made. Barton and Reed had made plenty of their own out here. Today though, that didn't seem like the case. What had sparked the invitation were the many rumors surrounding Jessie Falcon in recent days. GFMI had officially denied those reports, but Reed hadn't bought it, and had already told Barton so. But there were even more disturbing rumors in some circles, and it was those that Reed really wanted to talk about. "Now I talked to some of your people," Reed said as he prepared to tee off. "And they've assured me that everything's fine. Just like your man said at the press conference." Reed swung, and both men watched his ball sail down the fairway. "I'm sure you knew before they even told me that I wouldn't believe that for a second." "What do you want from me, Jack?" Barton asked. "I want you to be straight with me, Bart. What's really going on out there?" Barton hesitated. He knew that Reed could smell bullshit like few others, and that once he did he would start digging. If he found anything, there would be a full scale investigation, which meant Conway would jump into the fray. And once the two of them got their claws in, there would be no stopping them. Secrets would be exposed, careers would be ruined, and some might even do prison time. The trick was to give him just enough to whet his appetite for the truth, without giving him further cause to snoop around. "She's hurt," Barton finally said. "Badly, we think. Something went wrong, an explosion on the derelict ship she was investigating. We've already assembled a team though. The best hunters around. We're working as fast as we can to get help from her." He teed off, watching his ball soar through the air and feeling a bit better. He had told the truth, but left out some key details. The classified parts. The parts that could get a lot of people into serious trouble. And could mean even worse trouble if they weren't able to take care of it in time. "You know Bart," Jack said as they walked back to their cart, a brand new hover model. "I've been hearing all kinds of things lately. Wild conspiracy theories that've been flying around. People saying the government had Jessie Falcon killed. That GFMI and the Pirate armada are working together to eliminate the greatest bounty hunters in the galaxy. Hell, I'm just waiting for someone to say the Freemasons are behind it all." "So it's all pretty crazy stuff, huh?" "Well, most of it is. But some if it really isn't so crazy. Like when people start talking about Phazon." Barton's blood suddenly ran cold. "Bart, you remember what happened when all that stuff about BSL and those metroid creatures started to come out. The kinds of experiments they were doing. What it lead to and the scandal that it caused, and how they tried to drag a genuine hero like Samus Aran through the mud just to cover their own asses. You remember that, don't you?" The director did remember that. It was because of that very incident that he had ascended to the position to begin with, after Director Stevens and Deputy Director Klein were forced to resign in disgrace following the destruction of the BSL station and the revelation of the secret metroid project. If the Phazon projects were revealed it could be round two of that whole fiasco. He knew the look in Jack Reed's eyes. It said, we're gonna get you. We're gonna find out what you guys are doing and you're going down. He could only hope that the team Maeda had assembled was every bit as good as advertised. Jessie Falcon was one of the best in the business. No need for her to suffer for the military's mistakes. (OOC: Just a little sidestory filler) |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Feb 2 2008, 01:30 PM Post #22 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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(OOC: GAH! Sorry Jessie, hadn't seen that you moved things forward a bit when I read your post earlier... my bad. ><; ) "Uh, don't recall ever meetin with you on a bounty, sorry, but the name is familiar. Faulias Khayorn, veteran of the Hunter's guild, correct?" Travis replied to Faulias, extending a hand out for a handshake. "Deadeye Clark, sir. It's a pleas-" A hearty yell interrupted Travis mid-sentence, causing his attention to drift to the source. A man; he was one of the Phazon team, and... seemed to be in a hurry. Travis couldn't help but wonder why. "Yo! You two just wandering the decks or what? Look, I have a favor to ask of you two. Apparently, there's someone on this ship that's been exposed to the Phazon somehow. I don't know how or when, but the guy seems to be sporting the symptoms of Phazon exposure. Not like he's in big trouble or anything, but the head PED doc wants to look him over a bit, see if he's ok, and perhaps even detain him so that he doesn't spread the radiation around. Think you can help? I didn't catch his name badge or get a good look of his face, but he had these really bright blue eyes that seems to glow just slightly." Travis cocked a brow at the man for a moment, but nodded. His top priority was to protect his client, and somebody walking around with glowing eyes was not a good thing. Anyone effected by Phazon without some means of protection was a risk for Phazon madness, and a man running around (and not to mention, a man with the potential to go crazy at any moment) can spell disaster. Conversation with Faulias would have to come later; finding this guy came first. The Phazon team member looked around and began to head towards another corridor before adding another request. "If you guys see him, can you take him to the labs? That's where Dr. Andre Harrison will be." "Understood." Travis replied straightforwardly before looking to Faulias. "Time to go to work, it looks like..." He tapped a button on his wristcannon, bringing up a comm link to Constantine. "Constantine," He began. "I need you to find a trace read-out of Phazon signatures. We may have a crew member on-board that is a risk for Phazon-induced illness." ["Certainly, Travis. I'll be but one moment..."] =========================== Back within his virtual sanctuary, Constantine arose from his armchair and set a copy of “How Should we then Live?” down upon a nearby table and walked through the library before halting at the aisle where he had directed the data Travis had received from Sandoval earlier and summoned it forth. He closed his eyes, searching for data on Phazon signatures… and quickly found it. =========================== [“There we are. I’ve found it, Travis. Sending you a copy as I speak.”] Constantine said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. A message shortly appeared inside of Travis’ visor shortly thereafter, confirming that the system had acquired a copy of a Phazon signature. Travis then temporarily set the armorsuit’s scanners to show anyone who had any Phazon exposure symptoms; notably, to show the radiation signatures in a very bright, very translucent cyan, ensuring he would be able to single the man out. Now, to just find that crewman… Although, Travis couldn’t help but wonder; how could that crewman exposed his person so unsafely to Phazon? “Thanks Constantine.” Travis replied, closing out the link. He turned to Faulias. “We should split up and keep this quiet for the moment, no need to spark a panic. I’m going to go check the mess hall out. If anyone asks, well… you’re a veteran, I’m sure you know not to be obvious about it too much. Heh.” |
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| ~Metamyth~ | Feb 2 2008, 10:54 PM Post #23 |
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BURMA
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"Uh, don't recall ever meetin' with you on a bounty, sorry, but the name is familiar. Faulias Khayorn, veteran of the Hunter's guild, correct?" Travis replied to Faulias, extending a hand out for a handshake. "Long time Vet, you got that right, lad. Glad to see someone paying attention!" Faulias quipped with a chuckle. "Deadeye Clark, sir," Travis said. "It's a pleas-" He was promptly cut off by none other than none other than Harm Bloodsbane, the PED Squadron leader from before. He called out heartily, talking of a man they had come to suspect was under the effects of Phazon Exposure. Faulias frowned. "Phazon exposure? The only way someone could be exposed to the stuff is if there was some on the ship, maybe if he was around it before he boarded..." "If you guys see him, can you take him to the labs? That's where Dr. Andre Harrison will be," Harm finally finished. "Will do, Harm," he said. Travis turned to him and said "Time to go to work, it looks like..." "Seems like it," he replied. Faulias pulled a PDA out of his robes and began scribbling on it with a stylus. Looking up Rosters of all members of ship personnel, hunters, or otherwise. Nothing had been reported, other than now, of anything strange. “We should split up and keep this quiet for the moment, no need to spark a panic. I’m going to go check the mess hall out. If anyone asks, well… you’re a veteran, I’m sure you know not to be obvious about it too much. Heh.” "Right. See you around, call if you run into trouble. I'll try around the rooms and the guard barracks." Faulias saluted briefly to the man and turned away, heading for the elevators to his floor. He'd start there, and work his way down. |
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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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| ~Twilight~ | Feb 4 2008, 11:49 AM Post #24 |
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Just... Kind of out there...
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OOC: If the phazon signature thing works like a sensor then it would probably give results on Twilight too, though very slightly. >.> "Perhaps, either way I should go check on my equipment to make sure it is working properly. I will see you around." Twilight said as he lifted his hand in a simple wave to Kyle while turning around to walk out of the briefing room. He already knew the basic layout of the ship, so he had no trouble finding his way to the hangars where his ship was, although the reason for going to check on his armaments was mostly just an excuse to be alone for a bit. When he eventually found his way to the hanger he stepped inside the black and dark purple ship to get to work with testing his weapon systems and then about thirty minutes after laid down in the pilot seat to rest. --- Someplace else a white coated human man turned in a large automated chair towards a screen that just lit up, revealing another humanoid man who wore a hood that cloaked his features. With the light of the monitor one could see that the room was shaped in a half-circle covered in other monitors and the like, with the door outside being just behind the large chair that allowed the white coated man to reach every panel and see every screen effectively. "I am now aboard the GFS Silverado sir." The cloaked man said in a voice that was obviously altered by some device. "Good, proceed with the plan, we need information on that mercenary, this mission is too critical for there to be any possible complications involved." The white coated man said, as he leaned closer to the panels under the screen one could see that he had short-cut brown hair with a few grey strands in it and wore round glasses that reflected the light of the screen, hiding his eyes, but his facial expression shed no emotions he might be feeling at this moment, he was obviously simply doing buisness. "Right away sir." the cloaked man responded, and just a moment after the connection was cut. Leaving the room in darkness once again. Edited by Twilight, Feb 4 2008, 11:59 AM.
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| +Lt. Jessie+ | Feb 7 2008, 02:16 AM Post #25 |
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Jibbering, Troublemaking Ball of Fluff
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((OOC: Sorry about the hold up and short post, Nightclaw... Was trying to get the Silverado finished first, but looks like that might take a while, so just some filler post interaction to help it along.)) “So…” began the Pirate. “…When do we arrive at Bryyo?” “Probably about another day or so,” Bijou replied, stepping forward after he felt that the two were getting along. “Though I am intrigued by this place. I have read about it, but I have yet to visit it.” Titus, who was starting to become a little less paranoid about T’kran, cocked his head to one side as he let the suit intrigued him until Bijou started talking about the planet. “Well,” the Kerichoan began. “I’ve only been there once to catch a few Gel Rays, and trust me, they weren’t fun. My suit couldn’t handle the fuel gel. First time I stepped into just a small pool of it, part of my armor got eaten away. Since then, I rarely do catches that have to deal with the Fuel Gel dwellers…” The Megalith thought about it for a bit. “Fuel Gel, a precious commodity according to the commander. I wonder what the terrain is like though. Very rocky over all or is it just as it is described everywhere?” “I’ve only been to the Fiery Docks, so I can tell you there is a lot of Fuel Gel,” Titus murmured. “It’s also pretty hot there, though I don’t think you’d have that much of a problem, Bijou.” Bijou nodded, keeping this in mind, along with the other information he had managed to glean. The more he knew, the less he would have to be worried. “What about you, T’kran?” the stone hunter asked. “Have you been to Bryyo?” |
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| ~Bloody Pom~ | Feb 7 2008, 04:19 AM Post #26 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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T'kran might have been a little too naive during that briefing. It'd been a while since he'd been on Bryyo, and he'd forgotten that it actually was a prime source of Fuel Gel. Gods forbid, he was actually becoming less prejudiced about Titus. He was the oldest - mentally, at least, Bijou could have been any age - of the four hunters hired by the Federation, and of all the assorted mercenaries, rogues and hunters on this entire operation, so T'kran couldn't blame him for acting the way he did. "More valuable than you'd think, Bijou. That brings to me to why I was on Bryyo a few years back. It was a small-time Federation job, apparently there was Pirate activity near the planet, and they suspected a fuel raid." He shivered a little. "I arrived in the jungle area - where that 'Seed' thing had smashed into the planet, if I remember." He looked from Titus to Bijou. "Turns out the Pirates were busy there after all. I took out the outpost they'd set up, naturally they turned tail and ran; straight into the planet's permanent dark side. I tell you, polar regions are nothing compared to a place that hasn't seen the sun for the planet's recorded history." He growled and shook his head. "And what do I find hidden away in that frozen wasteland? A Pirate frigate of all things, and what was effectively a makeshift Pirate base around it. Naturally, I'm no Samus Aran, so I had to call back for some help. The Federation responded in the way they usually do: they glassed the site, when an orbital bombardment would have sufficed." He sighed and shook his head. For the most advanced faction in the galaxy, at times the Federation could be even more blunt and reckless than the Pirates themselves. "Crazy place. Go too far in one direction and you freeze, go the other way and you get fried. If I remember, only about four percent of the planet's got anything living on it." |
"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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| ~The Boss~ | Feb 8 2008, 03:59 PM Post #27 |
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Native Son
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(OOC: Just so everyone knows, Keeler is still in the mess hall and won't be leaving anytime soon.) A typically gloomy London day greeted Grace as her transport touched down. Rain poured down with a ferocity that made her want to start gathering animals two by two, and according to the local weather reports, it would be like this for the next several days. She had come here today to meet with a man named John Tyre, Keeler's mysterious benefactor. Spider, who due to a last minute change of plans had stayed behind, asked her to come and collect a disk which was the payment for whatever it was that Keeler had flown halfway across the galaxy to do. When she asked why they wanted her to do it, both Spider and Erik gave strange answers that had not yet become any clearer. All she could determine was that both of them were very nervous about this man, for whatever reason. She knew she had to tread lightly. The taxi pulled up to the brownstone in downtown London, and Grace darted up to the front door, getting duly soaked in the process. She rang, and thankfully the door opened immediately. The first thing that Grace noticed when she walked into the house and the door shut behind her was that it was almost completely dark inside. All the windows were shut tight and there was not a single light turned on. The only light source came from the soft glow of the computer screen in the far corner of the room. "Welcome, Miss," a voice to her left said, momentarily startling her. A man in hooded sweatshirt stood beside her, hood pulled over his head despite the fact that he was indoors. "You are Mr. Keeler's associate, I presume," the man continued. "Please, have a seat." Grace located the couch, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, and sat down. "You must be Mr. Tyre," she said. "John, please," he said as he lit two candles on the coffee table and sat across from her. "And your name is Grace. You are called the Grey Fox, are you not?" "Sometimes," she replied. Grace studied John carefully, trying to make eye contact but finding that near impossible while he was wearing his hood. She couldn't even see his eyes. Not only that, but he wasn't even looking directly at her. "You got the disk?" "In a moment," John said. "The files are still copying." Grace nodded. She was getting a very odd vibe from this man. While his accent clearly had its origins here in London, there was something very... foreign about him. Alien, even. His emotionless tone, his attitude, his mannerisms... something was off. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. "What exactly is Keeler off doing, if you don't mind my asking?" The words were out of her mouth before she could do anything about it. It was her policy not to ask too many questions about a job. Sometimes though, her curiosity got the better of her. It would get her in trouble one day, she had no doubt about that. "It is something of a personal favor to me," John replied. "I am acting on behalf of my brethren, lending my assistance to their cause. They may or may not have knowledge of my actions, but that is of little consequence." "Your brethren," Grace said, ignoring his other cryptic comments and focusing instead on that one word. "That means there's more guys like you. Figures. It's just like Keeler to get mixed up in some crazy shit like this, whatever it is." "Keeler is not one of us," John said flatly. "He would make a worthy addition to our ranks, I have no doubt about that. However, he is far more useful to us as he is." "So he's a patsy." "What is this?" "A patsy," Grace repeated with a grin, thinking she had finally grasped a bit of understanding, no matter how slight. "A dupe. A rube. A pawn." "Yes," John said. "You could say that. It is one of the reasons why he is not yet one of us. Perhaps he will be one day." He paused, seeming to be deep in thought. Just then, Grace felt a strange chill run down her body. Literally down her body, starting at the top of her head and progressing down to her feet. Almost like she was being scanned. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she was glad when it passed after a second. "You might make a valuable prize yourself," John continued. "True, you are only human. However, you are a very extraordinary human indeed. Perhaps even unique, yes?" John seemed to be implying something, but whatever it was, Grace would neither confirm nor deny it. "I don't know," she said. "You tell me." She was suddenly very nervous. This meeting was getting weirder and more uncomfortable by the second. "Yes... you are," John went on. "A very special individual. One who presents her own special set of complications. Your skills are unparalleled. You are intelligent, crafty, unpredictable, and above all very dangerous. And yet, one thing that you are not is powerful. One would have to take great care with you, to see that you are not lost." Before Grace could even think about just how bewildering John's statements were, strange, disturbing images began flashing in her mind's eye. Images of a nightmarish black creature with five spider-like legs and a single huge eye the color of fire, emitting a high-pitched wail that had all the soothing comfort of nails on a chalkboard. And then as quickly as it had entered her mind, it was gone. Its impact, however, would linger. A metaphorical darkness had crept into her to match the literal darkness that surrounded her. As if the image hadn't just invaded her mind, but her very soul. Grace had now been pushed over the threshold from nervous to full blown scared. And Grace did not scare easily. She didn't show it though. On the outside she was as cool as ever. On the inside, Grace wanted to scream and cry. "You have a strong mind as well," John said, not missing a bet. "A strong mind is yet another complication. Psychics, and those with psychic potential, prove the most difficult. You are not a psychic, but you have obviously learned from one. You know how to shield your mind, how to interact with and counteract telepathic activity, therefore you would provide similar resistance. I could easily see you breaking out of it as well. Forcing your new friend into the depths of your subconscious, even if only temporarily. "You need not fear though," John continued. "As I said, you present an array of problems for anyone inclined to take you. Were you in our territory, we would not hesitate. Here in your sector of space though, we choose our... recruits very carefully. And you are not a high priority target. Unlike, say, the young lady on your shirt." Grace looked down at the aforementioned garment. She had been wearing her Jessie Falcon T-shirt. It had been in her bag when she had originally started on this trip, back when Keeler had first contacted her, and she'd put it on this morning without even thinking about it. Now, however, her gears were spinning. She'd been hearing news reports the past few days that there were rumors that Jessie Falcon was MIA, and that something very, very bad had happened. The Feds were denying it, of course, but the rumors wouldn't die. Jessie's fans, and Grace counted herself among them, had been expressing their support for their racing icon anyway they could. There had even been a candlelight vigil in Port Town last night, and a protest outside GFMI headquarters this morning by fans demanding answers. Suddenly things started to make a whole lot more sense. "You took her," Grace said. "Whatever you're talking about doing to me, you did to Jessie Falcon." "Smart one," John said. "So is that what Keeler is doing? Has he got her tied up to some kind of brainwashing machine somewhere? Or is he feeding her to that black thing you made me see?" "Not thing. Ing. And no. The brainwashing, as you put it, is done. She is one of us. Mr. Keeler is but an insurance policy, meant to prevent those sent to rescue her from making it back safely. By now, the phazon has gotten its claws into him, and from there the phrase 'tragic inevitability' is appropriate. None of them will survive. Perhaps not even Keeler himself." "Is that why he's not one of you?" Grace asked with just a little bit of sarcasm in her voice. John nodded. He turned to look over at his computer, and seeing that the uploading had finished got up to retrieve the disk. Grace took the one and a half square inch data chip and tucked it into her pocket. She had the payment. Time to go. "It's been fun," Grace said, hurrying to the door. "Perhaps I shall see you again some time," John said as she walked out. Grace didn't answer. She slammed the front door behind her and headed out into the rain. She couldn't get out of that house fast enough. Not caring that she was getting soaked, she sat down at a nearby bus stop and started crying furiously. It was a cathartic moment, one she badly needed, if only to retain her sanity after what she had just experienced. |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Feb 8 2008, 08:49 PM Post #28 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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The clang of metal upon metal could be heard as Travis made his way through the station, heading to the mess hall calmly. He was careful in how he conducted himself; as he passed crewmen in the halls, he gave no hint that there was possibly even the slightest thiing wrong and went forward, acting as if nothing were amiss. The hunter knew better, however; many possibilities were going through Travis' mind, some of which he brushed off as unlikely, but still felt uncomfortable with. He turned to enter the mess hall, and quietly initiated a scan. The mess hall was a good place to start his search, after all; people were almost constantly hungry or thirsty around the clock, and save for the unhealthy, well... who *didn't* like food? The visor shifted to an alternate scanning mode to check for Phazon radiation. Travis’ head slowly peered over the whole mess hall as it turned from side to side. [Phazon radiation detected.] silently appeared on the visor interface as the hunter ‘s gaze swept over one part of the room, stopping over the face of a man. The suit’s systems activated the special viewing to show the radiation to Travis, the man’s eyes practially aglow with Phazon. (Wait… that’s a sign of direct Phazon exposure…. And with all the safety protocols aboard this ship, I’m highly doubtful a cargo handler would be foolish enough to expose his face like that… or himself….) Travis thought, raising a brow at the man. Why did he have his face covered up…? Was he trying to hide his eyes? And furthermore, what sane crewman would do that…? Curious, he ran a full scan on the mysterious crewman… (Huh… this is interesting… cybernetic arms. I highly doubt he would have lost his real ones on a federation ship, much less working in cargo… and they look like they’re built for heavy duty… even with those things, heavy lifting could still throw his spine out of whack… And the fact that he’s hiding his face is *very* suspicious….) Casually making his way over to the main and ceasing his scan, Travis made his way over to the crewman and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, you’ll need to come with me. You and I need to head down to the labs. Dr. Harrison needs you… why, I don’t know, but he does… direct request from… Harm, I believe it was?” He approached, careful with his choice of words; what little that was visible of his face showed no hint at what his inner thoughts pertained to. Edited by Deadly Aim, Feb 8 2008, 08:51 PM.
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| +Lt. Jessie+ | Feb 9 2008, 12:40 PM Post #29 |
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Jibbering, Troublemaking Ball of Fluff
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((OOC: Beflexor, I'll reply to the Griffon as soon as KH can reply to you. I'm a bit amused at that side of the story... Hahaha...)) “Crazy place. Go too far in one direction and you freeze, go the other way and you get fried. If I remember, only about four percent of the planet’s got anything living on it.” Titus was rubbing the tufts of fur on his face. “You know, now that I think about it, of the 2% that is actually livable, the ‘Seed’ was rather lucky to land in it,” the Kerichoan remarked. “Then again, could be that this Leviathan was also alive and knew the place to hit where it wouldn’t die.” “However, I am not too sure about the inhabitants,” Bijou interrupted. “According to the Federation logs, they have hostile creatures called Reptilicus that tend to invade now and then even though their lore may say otherwise.” “You’ve read their lore?” “Yes,” the Megalith continued, accessing a terminal in the room. “They used to be creatures of science, but there are also those of the old ways, those who hold very close to their crude tribal traditions.” Titus thought back to his own race, which lived somewhat like this, though most were very flexible about their lifestyle. Some lived in the cities and took the modern technological approach while others continued to live in the forests and fields as their ancestors did, living off the land with crude traditional weapons as opposed to modern firearms. Somehow, he fell between the two. He lived in the forests of Zou as a cub before relocating to a city with his family to recover. When he was finally considered a young adult and moved to Green Plant, he had taken the animal hunting job using traditional means until he laid his eyes on the Iron Claw in a shop. After he finally got his hands on it, he began to rely on it for assistance in his job. However, even with the technological arsenal addition, he had to rely on some older techniques to get what he wanted. The Kerichoan sighed as he finished his reminiscing and read the logs now displayed on the screen with a wrinkled muzzle. This was the first time he had seen these, perhaps because he had not been paying attention to the walls while trying to hunt down his quarry. “You would think they’d have some technology judging from all the ruins of the Mogenar they have,” he snorted, whiskers quivering ever so slightly. “They do, but they haven’t been used for probably a century or so,” the Megalith explained as he pulled up images of various statues. “The last couple Mogenar statues to be used were probably the ones that Samus saw, in particular the Phazon Mogenar that was the Leviathan guardian.” “But if you say that these Reptilicus hold dear to their tribal ancestral ways, then there’s no way they would know how to operate these.” “No, they didn’t, but the so-called ‘lords of science’ did. But that’s sort of beside the point since these lords are all dead now. Tribal or not, they do still pose a threat of some degree. I’m sure you’ve hunted a Warphound or two.” “Don’t remind me…” Titus growled, turning around and leaning back on the terminal, tail twitching. “I do not EVER want to hunt that beast again! As challenging as it is, that thing will do more than warp around; spew Fuel Gel, tackle you head on, not to mention pulse EM attacks to scramble the HUD.” “But I heard you successfully managed to capture one for the research facility in Green Plant.” “Yeah, at the cost of breaking several limbs, severing five ligaments, and having to rebuild Iron Claw.” The Megalith raised a cracked green brow as the Kerichoan shuddered at the thought of the beast disappear and reappearing, only to take a few good bites and slashes at him. He was just lucky to have survived when the beast had managed to knock off his helmet and sever the ligaments in his left shoulder and a few small ones in his toes. It was literally a pain to bring back the creature under heavy sedation, not to mention three months of recovery time and a fat reward for this particular catch. He shook his head, pushing that thought into the back of his mind. “That bad?” “You have no idea… Though come to think of it, I haven’t run into one of these so-called Reptilicus before. Are they still alive?” “I would think so. Federation has reported some sightings, but nothing confirmed,” the golem murmured in his earthen voice. “Some say they’re dead, others say they’re in hiding… I can’t really tell.” He looked at T’kran. “You think these guys are still alive?” ((OOC: Thanks for the heads up, Nightclaw)) |
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| ~Bloody Pom~ | Feb 9 2008, 03:30 PM Post #30 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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((OOC: By the way, Jessie... it's Mogenar, not Monegar. Just a heads up ))You know, now that I think about it, of the 2% that is actually livable, the ‘Seed’ was rather lucky to land in it,” the Kerichoan remarked. “Then again, could be that this Leviathan was also alive and knew the place to hit where it wouldn’t die.” T'kran nodded, but tilted his head a little. "Wasn't that psychopathic copy of Aran controlling them? From what I heard, she also turned the last group of Federation-hired bounty hunters to head to these planets into her Phazon-addled slaves." T'kran shook his head and sighed. From what he'd read, Rundas had been one of the best in the business. To meet such an end was nothing short of unforgivable. Listening to question, he simply nodded. "I think the reason no-one is really sure that the Reptilicus still exist..." A panel on T'kran's weapon slid open, and he tapped one of the buttons hidden inside. The screen soon showed a rather unpleasant sight: A group of Zebesian pirates, strung up by their feet and... de-carapaced. ((OOC: Predator reference GO!)) "...Is because hardly anyone encounters them and lives to tell the tale. I found them while I was exploring Bryyo... and I'm pretty sure Warp Hounds can't do that to a Pirate." He paused for a moment. "That reminds me... I found one of the few remaining computer systems from before the planet went feral, and managed to power it up. Turns out it had a fragmented, but pretty complete map of the region." The map soon appeared on-screen, and he pointed out tall, circular room in one of the regions. "Turns out the Federation has an old repair bay down on the planet. From what I gathered it's got upgrade facilities as well. Not sure if it still works, but... worth a shot. I myself could use a little extra firepower for my ship." He tapped his weapon again, and certain sections of the map turned a bright blue colour. "The highlighted regions are where Phazon radiation's been recorded. One room in particular's positively cooking with it. If we're going to do this, we'd better be careful about it. I'm pretty sure the death of the Leviathan stopped it from spreading, but there's still a lot sitting there." |
"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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4:14 AM Jul 11