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After-Effect; Post-AC RP
Topic Started: Oct 24 2010, 10:41 AM (21,579 Views)
~The Boss~
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Native Son

Grace sat quietly in the chair, gazing into the mirror for one last look at her long, black locks. They used to call her Pocahontas when she was little, without a doubt the most obvious nickname that could be bestowed upon her for a number of reasons, like calling Nick Scanlan "Tex," or Ronnie Black "Lucky." Of course, Jimmy knew that if he ever called her "Squaw," she'd cut his balls of.

She actually winced a bit when she heard the man fire up the clippers. They shaved your head when you went to prison. They'd let it grow back once you got settled in, but everyone got a buzz cut their first day in the joint. Men, women, no exceptions. Jimmy and Ronnie had both told her that it wouldn't seem real until she heard that cell door slam shut on her. It seemed to her that they were wrong. Maybe it was different for guys, but for Grace, the reality started to hit home the second the man started shearing off her long black hair.

Clark had insisted on transporting her to the Big House himself. He was taking it all way, way too personally, in her opinion. Yes, she had killed Jenosa, and Jenosa was his friend, so he had every right to be angry. But it had happened in the heat of battle, and after all, it was just business. She could not get Travis to understand that.

No doubt it was exasperating for him, trying to interrogate her. For every question, she had a rambling non-answer. When he called her "Grey Fox," she denied knowing anything about that person or her alleged crimes, telling Travis that he read too many comic books if he believed all that stuff. When he asked about Jimmy, she went on and on about their relationship, or lack thereof, revealing some personal details that Travis probably didn't want to know about. Then she unleashed a Why Are Men Such Assholes rant on poor Travis. He had to be all kinds of relieved just to get rid of her when they arrived early this morning.

Maybe prison wouldn't be so bad. She'd been getting a little sick of the life anyway, maybe it was time to relax for a bit. Yeah, that was it. It would be like a long vacation. One where she wasn't allowed to leave the hotel. And perhaps some day, she'd see an opportunity and take advantage. But that was neither here nor there. Right now, all she could do was make the best of her time, cause time was all she had.

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

Two men walked calmly into the Haven Cafe, pausing by the door as they silently scanned the restaurant. With their standard uniform of dark business suits and dark shades, they were clearly thugs. But something about them said that these weren't just mere hoodlums. Maybe it was the expensive look of the suits, or the almost robotic way in which they carried themselves. These were high-priced thugs. The type employed or hired by someone very powerful, to take down a high value target.

They walked with slow, deliberate strides towards the back of the cafe, headed right at Travis's table. Undoubtedly the tension was palpable with each step they took towards him... until they passed right by him without so much as a glance and stopped at the booth right behind him. Their conversation was clearly audible to the bounty hunter.

"Time's up, Vega," one of the men said. "Let's go."

"Right now?" the man in the booth said. "I ain't paid my check yet, and I wanna leave a nice tip for my waitress. These girls don't make a whole helluva lot-"

"Shut up," the thug replied. "All you ever do is run your fuckin' mouth."

"Your luck's finally run out, kid," the other thug said. "And if you ask me, it's been a long time coming. Big brother can't pull your ass outta this one. Now let's go."

There was a silence for a moment, then without warning there was the sound of glass shattering followed by someone grunting in pain, then what sounded like an energy weapon discharging. Then, this man the thugs were calling Vega leaped over the booth and onto Travis's table, kicking over his raspberry tea in the process. "Sorry 'bout that man!' he frantically said as he bounded off the table and dashed out the fire exit.

At the other booth, one of the thugs was doubled over, his hands covering his bleeding face, and one could see shards of glass embedded in his flesh. The other thug... the other thug was frozen solid.
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((OOC: sorry if its bad. Just here to establish that Ill be joining you guys))

"Lights Please."

Terron's request went unheard.

"Lights?!"

Again, the ships onboard AI provided no response to the command. Terron's small and cluttered bedroom onboard his ship, the ikaruga, remained cloaked in darkness. The tired and very disoriented Terron stumbled, step after step, through the shadows, trying to find the damn light switch because his onboard computer was failing at its job so horribly. groping around the room with frustrated fervor, Terron was quickly growing tired of whatever bug the AI had up its arse about obeying verbal commands. If it didn't fix itself soon, Terron was buying a clapper to activate his lights.

"Dammit, Computer! gimme the friggin lights or ill-"

Before Terron could finish his angry statement, he felt the floor slide out from underneath him as he tripped and fell forward. Tumbling through the darkness, Terron felt most of his body hit the semi-soft carpeted floor hard, with the exception of one part of the man's anatomy. That exception was his face, which had rather thoughtfully landed in something rather cool, soft and squishy. Something that also happened to smell worse then greased glencher guts. Yes, Terron's face had landed in very, VERY old takeout food that he happened to have been residing on his floor. How it had gotten there and why he had neglected to take care of it, although valid questions, were not currently Terron's concern. No, he was worried more about cleaning the extremely stinky substance off his face.

And, of course, getting the lights on.

"Don't make me ask again. Turn on the lights now, or I'm getting a new AI and recycling your parts and subroutines to make an automated toaster."

A second or two after Terron had "firmly" stated his command, the small bedroom was filled with a gentle white glow as the lights slowly flickered to life, revealing the rather interesting mess that was Terron's personal quarters. Looking down at where his face had been, Terron was actually relieved by what he saw: the takeout had been some extremely old pizza, an infinitely better alternative to getting a face full of old chinese food. If that had happened, Terron believed that any chance he had at finding a girl in the next year would have been instantly reduced to zero. It took Terron about a fourty-five to santize his body with a shower and his mouth with almost every mouthwash and toothbrush he could find, but eventually Terron managed to get himself out of his bedroom In what could have been considered the minimum standard for presentable shape. Once the first major step of "getting out of bed" was done, Terron made his way to the cockpit and sat down near a holographic console, knowing well what the next order of business was.

Seeing what disasters had befallen the galaxy that he could fix.

Seeing as how he was an investigative officer and an envoy for his organization, the illuminus, it was indeed a very big task. Whenever he looked at his workload, he usually had a list of ten or more "missions" set out for him. Half of them were PR stunts in Terron's opinion: Small missions usually given as a "favor" to organizations that helped the Illuminus. Those were the ones Terron usually avoided, thanks to the average pay and (usually) long and boring workload. It was for this reason that half of the Ten available jobs Terron saw on the cockpit's holographic viewscreen were instantly off his "to-do" list for now. Scrolling through a highly simplified "availibility" list of the remaining five requests, Terron quickly saw one that caught his eye on the list of five:

Available request list
 

"Mine Clearing"
"Stolen property recovery"
"Corporate bodyguard"
"Chozo Technology Investigation"
"Riot Control"


The fourth option, simply by its title, caught Terron's attention. Chozo tech, in anyone's hands other then the luminoth (or, in rare cases, the federation) was bad news. The illuminus didn't know much about the chozo's technology, but they did know one thing: their weapons packed a serious punch. With a wave of his hand, Terron caused the holographic screen in front of him to "split" into several smaller screens showcasing more details on the job. There was very little that was ultimately given (several information holoscreens were "empty") but seeing as the employer was the federation Terron could figure out why: Usually you didn't want to show anyone all your cards unless you absolutely had to. In fact, the that grabbed Terron's attention more then the actual message that was sent to Terron. Glancing at one of the smaller holoscreens to his left, Terron quickly gleaned over the said message:

Mission Request
 
Mr. Xennoth.

After reviewing your record and contacting your superiors, The Galactic Federation has decided that you are a prime candidate for this particular mission. Terms of your assistance in the matter were settled in advance, and the final decision to accept this assignment is, as per your superiors instructions, is up to you.

Should you choose to accept it, The Assignment is as follows: You are to investigate the use, trade, and possession of Illegal technology at the planet specified in the coordinates that are attached to this message. For the sake of security, we cannot disclose/do not have greater detail on the technology you will be investigating other then it is of Chozo origin, and it is possible that this technology will be put up on the black market.

Please respond to this message should you choose to accept the assignment. If you have any questions or comments, please include them as well.

Thank you for your time.


Not a bad read for what Terron could tell was a hastily written message. Though the lack of upfront details on the technology he would be investigating was a concern, that worry did very little to dissuade Terron from his desire to accept the mission. If he didn't do something about that technology now, chances were it would come back to bite everyone's collective ass later. There was the issue of currently being on the GATE investigation assignment, but as Terron began typing up his response to the request he figured it would be of little consequence. All of his current leads and hypothesis on GATE were dead in the water, and finding new ones would take considerable time. GATE could wait. The sale of advanced and highly dangerous chozo technology on the black market, however, could not.

With that in mind, Terron hastily typed up a small RSVP message on a holoscreen in front of him, cut and pasted it to the pre-made long, rambling request acceptance message, and sent it. The not-boring legal shenanigans of the message would look something like this:

Additional Notes to Acceptance Message
 
Alright, even though the details are kinda slim, Ill bite. You have my contact information, so if you have any additional information please send it through those channels. If you wish to meet me on site to discuss the assignment, set up a meeting and Ill be there. The more I know, the more I can help you.


Attaching his digital signature to the message, Terron quickly pressed the "send" button on the holoscreen. After a confirmation appeared confirming the message was sent, Terron shifted himself over to the main pilot seat of the Ikaruga's cockpit. The flurry of holoscreens followed him, moving in front of the large view screen showing the vastness of space. The holoscreens quickly switched to ship statistics and a starchart. After a few minutes of pre-jump checks and route planning, Terron had his course plotted. It was a nice, easy trip: just the way he liked it. Soon afterward, the Ikaruga slipped into hyperspace, heading toward the Illuminus envoy's new assignment.

Little did Terron realize exactly what he was getting into...
Edited by Gate, Nov 2 2010, 12:07 PM.
"Love, in its many forms, is life's greatest gift. Its the one worth fighting for. I died for it once...and even though it didn't turn out so well for me, looking back, I wouldn't have done anything differently."
-Terron Xennoth-
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((Massive intro post of doom between Curon and I. Almost two weeks in the brewing.))

Relics

Z'Gato looked on as various workers and mechanics labored over his ship, which had suffered heavy damage from the Archaeological dig site he had been not too long ago. Not only did he have to suffer through hitching a ride with the humans, but in addition, he had to pay a hefty fine just to get his ship towed and brought to the nearest space port in order to have it repaired. And even then, the repair costs alone made the Chozo warrior incredibly irritable.

Disgusted, the warrior walked away from the repair center, contemplating the resulting mishap from his previous mission. Not only had he been unable to recover any technology from the Chozo military base that had been on that planet, but in addition, the Galactic Federation had thought it wise to seize the site and practically prevent all visitors from entering it. Z'Gato had been infuriated with their lock-down of the facility, so much so that he had nearly slammed his fist into one of the soldiers there. The strange part was the fact Z'Gato had no real idea why he felt so angry. While such technology had been created and cared for by a now-dead race, a race too weak to stand its ground when faced against the galaxy, such relics were keys to his culture, legacy, and history. To most of the races in the galaxy, the Chozo would almost seem backwater and old-fashioned, chained to the ground by tradition and lethargy. Yet even then, such a race had managed to develop technology so advanced that even the galaxy today had practically tripped over itself just to claim what little it could.

A race that was powerful, advanced, and cunning, yet bogged down in its history and tradition, had fallen. Z'Gato was one of the last, thanks in part to his actions. A race that he belonged to, yet proved that one could be strong and survive against the torrent of the universe. Indeed, Z'Gato had gained great strength, yet there was always room to improve.

And yet, he was a small piece in what caused the death of his race. Even now, years later, such thoughts haunted him to this day. He quickly pushed the thought aside, throwing up every defensive barrier in his mind against dwelling on the past, like the rest of his weak race, and continued to walk nearly aimlessly.

...one hour later...

The space craft was finished. It was a grueling job, but according to Gary, the chief engineer of the Randklev Space Station, it should have taken a lot longer. With no questions asked, he assigned the two engineers who were good with alien technology. One was a sassy and grouchy stalky brunette female human, the other was of an alien species no one could identify.

The latter of the two seemed to have a penchant for technology despite his lack of understanding. It was almost child-like the way the alien approached repair, but the fashion in which he could do it was unlike anything the old Chief could fathom. Yes, the creature usually was difficult to communicate with, but once put to task, he got the job done.

The alien also had an eerie way of unsettling his coworkers.

Nevertheless, the work was done.

...fifteen minutes later...

The Promenade was bustling with peoples of all types from almost every region in the known galaxy. Most of them were Federation citizens, most looking like anything from human to hybrid animal humanoids. Occasionally, there would be a small group of four Galactic Federal Police officers roaming through the crowds making small talk with the patrons, smiling and appearing at ease.

One being seemed to stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but what the creature looked like was not entirely clear. It was at least seven and a half feet tall wearing a dark brown hooded cloak that covered from head to toe. A dark green clawed hand with a thumb and three fingers would reach out to handle goods, likely a meat product of some kind, then put it back on the shelf.

Then, as if prompted, the creature paused, turned its head, and seemed to look directly at Z'Gato as the Chozo Warrior wandered into the Promenade. It could have been the sound of the armored talons striking the floor as he walked, but the noise of the crowd would have easily drowned them out. A scent, sensation, or mere coincidence. Regardless, this creature seemed to be peeking out from behind the shadows of it's hood at the Chozo.

Of course, it didn't help that no one had seen a Chozo in well over twenty years, and the crowd reacted appropriately with sidelong glances and parted the way for the old warrior.

Z'Gato glared at his surroundings as he walked, noting all of the odd looks he was receiving from the masses of humans and other races on the station. He paid them little mind, as the majority of these beings barely reached his chin, much less pose any significant threat to him. Once again, the Chozo was baffled at how such weak races, even supplemented with technology, could have survived the horrors of the galaxy. Perhaps their government deafens their ears and blinds their eyes to such dangers, keeping them sheltered in their miniature worlds. 'Pathetic. No room for growth, no room for strength. Only stagnation,' Z'Gato thought to himself as he continued to walk through the Promenade, occasionally eyeballing the wares and shops that littered the place until he felt his feathers stand on end. He was being watched, observed...hunted, possibly. It was almost like a sixth sense for the Chozo, having been a bounty hunter and survivor within the galaxy for so long, one just knew when danger was possibly afoot. Too many people to identify however, each one curiously staring at Z'Gato and his armor, becoming natural camouflage for his predator. After a few moments, Z'Gato calmed himself, not convinced that there was any true threat around, until his eyes accidentally locked with another, purely by chance at this point. Z'Gato felt a chill run down his spine when he observed the being, a strange creature in a hooded cloak, covering almost all of it's features except its inhuman eyes. An almost psychic chill ran through the Chozo's consciousness as well, and the warrior narrowed his eyes in hostile suspicion.

'And who is this...?'

The creature lifted its head slowly as if responding to the vibe Z'Gato was giving off. A small predatory smile tugged at the corners of his mouth barely revealing vicious fangs that moved on their own. The white of the teeth was in stark contrast to the dark green skin. The red slits beneath the blue four-lens eyes stretched and relaxed to a thin artistic line.

The cloaked figure moved toward Z'Gato with what could only be wide strides of powerful digitigrade legs. The feet poked out from beneath the hem of the cloak revealing two toes per foot with terrible talons. The arms were holding the middle of the cloak closed as he strode forward, though with as sharp as those talons looked and as hefty of a creature he appeared to be, the footfalls were as light as a feather.

He paused a mere two feet in front, looked carefully into the warrior's visor as if he could peer into his heart, then continued past with a wave of a clawed hand urging the Chozo to follow. This alien continued to the repair docks. The cloak trailed behind him though tossed by a thick tail beneath it.

Whatever locks and safeties that resided upon Z'Gato's arm cannon were soon disengaged, Z'Gato's suspicion climbing as he found himself following the strange creature. It felt...incredibly foreign to the Chozo's limited psychic facilities, but at the same time, there was a feeling that he should know it for some unknown reason. He soon shrugged the feeling away, his suit already acquiring a targeting solution on his prey should the alien start any hostile negotiations, as the pair walked towards the repair facilities in the station. Strange that the creature would lead him this way, and any discernible reason eluded the Chozo.

"So what are you? Where are you leading me?" He demanded, not wanting to waste any more time with some simple charade.

The alien paused his stride. It seemed to hunch down into a defensive posture ready to bolt at any second. He emitted a low four tone trill as if it could feel the hostility rising right next to him. It was a warning; an almost animal response.

"I fixed your ship," he responded in that same four tone voice. His head turned to look at Z'Gato's arm cannon. "I was taking you to your pretty ship. It was hurt, but I fixed it.

"But it is a bad idea to look for a fight here. I thought you knew better, Creator?" Despite the tones of his voice, it was blatant that the statement was innocent enough. "But, since you're a Warrior, maybe you don't know about...." The sentence trailed off as though the creature lost his train of thought, or he was suddenly thinking of something else.

The walk began again, but he was still on the defensive. His head constantly turned to look behind him, check Z'Gato over (focusing on the arm cannon), and then to look ahead of them. Jittery and skittish now, the creature continued to stride forward. With each step, the creature was obviously becoming more agitated like he was being pushed into a corner.

"My name is Omega Alpha Arararar," he seemed to stammer over the last word. "Just call me Omega Alpha. Pleased to meet you! What is your name?."

Creator? What in the world was this thing talking about? Z'Gato had created no creature that looked like this thing, nor did he recall his race doing so either. While the statement about fixing his ship had caught the Chozo warrior off-guard, Z'Gato was still suspicious of the creature, despite it's statements. Now that he thought about it, though, the creature's actions did seem to have an animalistic feel, going on the defensive as if backed into a corner, as most other creatures would, especially with how jittery it was now, constantly looking back at Z'Gato's arm cannon. Still, the Chozo wouldn't back down just because this creature might have the spunk to defend itself if it needed to.

Omega Alpha? Strange name. Human Greek lettering, representing the end and beginning, but backwards, oddly enough.

"I am known as Z'Gato, but what did you mean by 'creator'? What knowledge is it you think I lack?" Z'Gato inquired, consciously trying not to sound threatening as he lowered his arm cannon, but once again, he made sure it was ready for action should this creature try anything stupid.

"Zeee," he tried to pronounce with his mouth stretching wide with fangs bared. All the while, with each iteration of pronunciation, the head would jerk to another angle, a hand would tap the side of his mouth, all a type of primitive body language. "Zee. Zee-guh. Guhguguh. Zerguttow. Zugh-gaht-toe. Zee... -Scree- Zee-Gatto. Z'Gato? Z'Gato!"

"Nice to meet you, Z'Gato," he finally said after being satisfied with how to pronounce the name. Then, his right hand seemed to claw at the air. The observant wound notice he was actually writing Z'Gato's name in Chozo hieroglyph in mid-air.

"I don't know what you don't know," he finally stated flatly. "There are a lot of things. Your pretty ship is fixed. There was a lot of things wrong with it." Finally, after rounding one last corner and passing through a set of double doors, they were at the ship docks. With a simple gesture, he motioned towards the Chozo's ship. Any outside damage had been patched up professionally, and Z'Gato's on-board systems could tell that there was such attention to detail toward the structural stresses that even those were remedied.

"I saw spots behind the inside skin," Omega-Alpha explained. "I peeled the skin and the humans fixed the spots. Also, some parts on the engine and computer were hurt. I fixed that, too. It was easier than human ships.

"So, why here? What happened to your pretty ship?" He finally turned to face the Warrior and looked him dead in the eyes.

Z'Gato, in an rare display of appreciation, nodded his head and made a thoughtful sound. "I see...it almost looks like new," Z'Gato said, before looking back at the creature. Immediately, Z'Gato resumed his suspicious glare at the creature, but he was no longer playing with the idea of blasting it in the face. "I'm a bounty hunter, and I was on a mission, simple as that. These things happen, especially if the quarry was such a high price as I had imagined. This was the closest place to get a full repair on my ship, and so I'm here," He said, before leaning closer to the creature.

"Just how do you know the Chozo language? I saw that symbol you drew in the air, and I'm surprised something...such as yourself...would know it. What are you exactly?" The Chozo warrior interrogated.

Omega-Alpha paused again while he seemingly readjusted his grip on the front of his cloak. It was such a simple question, but it was a complex answer. This alien always had a penchant for layering the meanings behind his answers without even realizing how complex it was. He was certainly a complex creature for being so simple-minded, though it could be said that an alien such as he merely thought differently than most denizens of the galaxy.

"I am the part of You that was left behind," he finally stated, his four-tone voice rattling low.

"Now, I know hunting," he resumed with a chipper tone again. "That is what I am. I fix ships because I can. I hunt because I must. What were you hunting that was so big it would hurt your pretty ship? Space dragons? Those are tasty."

That statement seemed to resonate strongly in the Chozo warrior. The part of him that was left behind. Most folks would just assume something else, but those words struck a chord in Z'Gato, his memories flaring up violently as he remembered the assault of Zebes, where a single Chozo Warrior--himself--fought against those he had fought alongside a mere three months before. The sheer blood hatred felt from his opponents as they seemed to almost focus on him entirely was something that he could still feel in his bones...

For a long moment, Z'Gato was silent, and due to his armor, it would have been exceedingly difficult to determine what he was even doing, until the warrior snapped out of his morbid reverie and looked back at the creature. Anything. Focus on anything other than the brutal past.

"I was at an architecture site. We had to fight off a lot of bandits and warriors from other places. It did not end well," Z'Gato said, anger flaring in his voice. "A military facility of my race and ancestors was there, and now it's under control of those humans," He finished, growling. "A fight against a Space Dragon would have been far more honorable and glorious."

"So, if fighting a dragon is good," he trilled in a lilt, "then fighting humans is what?"

Finally, they reached Z'Gato's ship. He stood at the entrance of the craft which was closed at the moment. Omega-Alpha spun in place, the hem of his brown cloak lifting enough to show the green legs dashed with violet horizontal markings. The hood flopped back revealing a human-like face faceted with bright blue four-lens eyes underscored with red slits. There was a violet stripe that streaked across the bridge of the nose and ended at the cheekbones on either side. His smile was bright and friendly baring sharp teeth and four upper fangs that wiggled side to side in place. Silver-gray hair that looked like thin wire topped his head, standing up in places and was strewn about. A bone spike on either side at the back of the jaw jutted out by two inches.

"What were you planning on doing with the land?" He chittered while the smile faded slowly. The red slits flared again as he lowered his head. It was as if he was pointing his eyes right at Z'Gato's chest, or more importantly, his heart. "It must be filled with great things that everyone wants it so bad. No one would trust no one with it. So, what should you do?"

It was as if this alien creature was reading the Warrior like an open emotional book. His eyes could sense the electromagnetic spectrum, and in turn, watch Z'Gato's field and interpret what it meant. It made it easier to hunt quarry, and to predict what it may or may not do. The creature had been learning and growing in intellect. Instinct obviously was driving the creature, yet experiences continue to mold his behavior like any creature. Right now, Omega-Alpha was trying to determine what hurt this Creator and the importance behind the anger towards the humans, all the while without even realizing he was layering his meanings in his responses again. So much complexity for such a seemingly simple creature. What in the universe could have brought a creature like this through the window of the Primordial Ooze?

"Humans are what they are, weak. They lie, they cheat, they slip away before a fight," Z'Gato said, his agitation rising just a little bit, until the creature spun around, revealing more of its unsettling features, and once again, Z'Gato could swear he had never seen something like it before, but at the same time, it still felt slightly familiar. Where in the world would he have met something this grotesque?

He was also quite taken aback with the creature's questions. To be perfectly honest, he hadn't really thought much about what he would have done with the facility, even if he had been the only one to find it. The Chozo warrior paused for a moment before shrugging in his armor, which over exaggerated the motion. "I would have at least seen if it was worthy to restore, or at the very least, salvage what I could. Such technology and relics will be abused by Humanity as a whole, not even a lick of respect from them," He said, his fists clenching in anger, but without a target, he had to let go of his aggression slowly in his mind, rather than on something physically. The creature's last question was also agitating, almost as if he was being antagonized by this vermin. "If it was within my power, I would force them from that facility myself, but even I cannot defeat a Federation War ship," The avian warrior admitted, wondering just what this creature's angle was. It was clear that instinct drove most of its functions, yet it was intelligent enough to web meanings in its speech. He would have to remain wary of this creature, even if it did repair his ship.

"That doesn't make sense what you say about humans," he chittered. "You say they are weak, but they still got it out of the fight. There are good humans. There are bad humans. Hard to tell.

"Chozo creations are dangerous with the bad people. They are helpful with the good people." As Omega-Alpha spoke, his head bobbed and his hands gestured in imitation of people talking with their hands. But, then he paused and licked his lips before continuing. "We all remember how things went with the Space Pirates using Chozo creations.

"Come! We must at least warn them." With that, he reached out for the ship's door. A simple touch, a split-second later, the door opened by what looked like the creature's own will. "At least we can try to make sure Chozo creations with good people, human or not."

Z'Gato didn't like being lectured to, especially by a creature he had barely met. However, he was even more taken aback when the creature seemingly opened his ship without asking and apparently without touching the control panel. However, the creature's invitation to 'making sure Chozo creations with good people,' was at least a compromise as far as Z'Gato was concerned, and he nodded his head.

"Very well, then. Don't try anything funny while on my ship," The Chozo warrior said, pushing his way past the creature to board his ship, his eyes narrowing in suspicion again. He will find out soon enough just what this creature really is...
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"Ah, shit..." The tea felt like a caustic bath on his skin; Travis was glad he wore a jacket as he quickly reached for a napkin and patted his jacket and the table dry, still left to wonder what on earth that was about.

Vega, the man had been called as Travis turned around to find something that was disturbing, to say the least. The two thugs whom had been looking for trouble and certainly received it, one covered with wounds from what seemed to be glass, the other who just walked into the restaurant had been frozen solid. Had the security reports about Durendel been wrong? He was tempted to follow the man who had just bolted out, but he didn't know if it was a good idea in plain-clothes...

"Constantine, scan these two..." Travis whispered to nobody in particular as he moved over to the bar, one of the waitresses having taken cover under the counter. "Excuse me miss, you might want to call an ambulance for these two here..."
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The silence was disconcerting. Ra had been on many recon or assault missions, preparations similar to this, with many dozens of other species but nothing quite like this. The usual background hubbub of chatter from prayers to command orders was something he had grown used to amongst the High Guard. It frequently reminded him that whatever they were forced to do in their line of duty, whatever new horrors they were forced to inflict upon those they were supposed to be saving, they were still more ‘human’ than the mindless drones they fought.
Not this time. Occasionally he would pick up some movement being performed in unison, each of them echoing the exact same preparations as one another as they ritualistically readied themselves for battle, but little else. Ra had never liked the Ar’c. There was something unnerving in the sheer fanaticism of the grey skin’s actions, the seemingly mindless loyalty in which followed the orders they were tasked with. Their race had been engineered for war; it had no culture, no purpose besides to fight, kill and obey commands. No way to even talk to one another through any normal means, having to instead be be sleep taught ways in which they could communicate through body language. They were utterly robotic, and dogmatically loyal. That was almost certainly why they had been assigned to him.

The time since the disastrous attempts to take G79’s artefacts had passed in a blur of repair cycles and debriefings. Upon having the Lightbringer limp back into Commonwealth space and allowing for his memories and experience to be downloaded and examined, a standard procedure for avatars, he had been placed under guard. Then taken apart, scanned and repeatedly questioned about what had taken place on the world. No one had said it but he knew what they were afraid of: Blake. Ra’s brief encounter with the entity upon having it hijack his body had barely ended with him in control, forcing it back into some sort of mental prison in which it had been held. Its final ‘gift’ had to Ra had been some minor edit, some minor change in some area of his programming.
“Look upon the true face of your leaders, know what they have become and despair.” That had been its final sentence to him, passing on a jumble of images and dates to look into. Shin’s scans upon his return had found no real significance in the change but it had scared the commanders, enough for them to almost consider his termination.

But thankfully they still needed to acquire G79’s treasure trove of advanced technology. Still needed to plunder the world and secure it as an outpost for their ships to begin moving slowly into Federation space. Even with the data his telemetry of that mission had passed onto them about the site and general locations of the underground ruins it had been thought that sending in a soldier with on site experience would enhance their chances of success. Simply because they needed him hardly meant they trusted him.
After the mission briefing had ended and he had been placed aboard one of the attack craft in the All Under Heaven’s main hanger the connections between his eyes and sensor unit had been extensively damaged. His nanomachines were currently repairing the wrecked circuits, but it was unlikely they would be fixed until after they had landed. Something had also been fitted around his neck; most likely an explosive collar or something else which they could guarantee would keep him in line once they needed him to fight.

The mission itself was simple enough, daring and potentially suicidal but with a greater chance of success than their traditional orbital drop attacks. They just had to hope that they entered the planet’s atmosphere beneath any sensors the Federation might have set up amidst the ruins. And that if they did detect them, they wouldn’t get the shield up in time.

---
Some time later...

Cutting all power to its engines the All Under Heaven allowed itself to slowly drift closer to the world. Occasionally releasing probes to make limited scans of the areas surrounding the ruins and comparing them to the previous data picked up by the Lightbringer during Shin’s moronic jump into the atmosphere during the battle over G79.
While fool hardy, and nearly resulting in the loss of the ship, the data picked up during the descent had been enough to attempt a far more controlled orbit to surface landing.

A spray of ice particles and frozen oxygen erupted from the ship’s main hanger as it ponderously swung open and several dark streaks rocketed out from within. For a moment the All Under Heaven’s hull lit up with the blue light of a FTL jump, opening a portal in front of the hanger for a few seconds and then closing it again.

---
Planetside...

Several hundred kilometres from the dig site where the Chozo ruins were located, only a few meters above the seemingly endless sea of sand dunes, a whirling portal of light opened up. Creating a miniature sand storm as a hole in reality was forced open allowing for a handful of ships to pass through onto the planet before shutting again.
Still rocketing forwards, propelled onwards by the force which they had been ejected from the hanger, five mat black stealth gliders hugged low to the ground as they made their approach upon the ruins. Each one carried roughly thirty commandos, each of which silently preying that the on board stealth systems would hide them from both the prying eyes of sentries and any sensors which could be sweeping the surrounding lands.
"You can live forever or die trying."
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(OOC: This should be the final Uber post for the beginning, since it wraps up the last bit of exposition I wanted to put down. Also, guys, feel free to take the initiative and meet with some of the other hunters. I can get to everyone here, so cut me some slack.)


Jenosa smiled mischievously to herself, chuckling, "Well, that certainly got his attention." She couldn't help but look very forward to the surprise that would be on Travis's face; although she hoped she wouldn't give him too much of a shock. Seeing a person who you thought was supposed to be dead would certainly be a slap in the face; she'd probably say, “What? It's a magic trick.”

Her humor, however, faded from her face when she turned to look at Alana; for on the emotions she saw on good doctor's face might as well have been reflection of the real ones that boiled deep down in her gut. Might as well have been; aside from dwelling on a regretted action, but there seemed to be a tinge of uncertainty about about herself. She was a doctor that who obviously cared a person's well being; yet at the same time, she acted like a scientist, fascinated with the biologically unknown. And fascinated in such a way that was starting to conflict with her morals as a doctor; worried how far this intrigue might push her

She understood that feeling all too well.

"Hey, cheer up,” she said, putting a comforting hand on Alana's shoulder and giving her a sympathetic face. “You're not attempting to shoot your way out of a hell hole just yet, so don't fret too much over it. Just gotta take it like I am.”

Alana gave a relaxing sigh, “Yeah, your right. It twists my gut to think about when it's already done. I'm going to take it you want me to speak with your friend first, so as to not give him such a 'shock.'”

“Yeah, just like we discussed before..”

Alana nodded, looking into Jenosa green eye's, which seemed so alien whenever they flashed that bright light blue. Inwardly, she knew the bounty hunter was struggling with an aspect of herself that went beyond her understanding. Jenosa was such an open person most of the time, and was often so sociable that she often forgot the red head was a warrior in the first place. She was even willing to describe what it felt like with her with this alien physiology, an aspect that certainly did perturb her human side; what intrigued her the most was the woman's sixth sense.

But whenever she attempted to delve further into any details as to the origins of the 'pathogen' infecting Jenosa, she went all professional and clamped shut. It was as if she was safe guarding classified information.

All Alana knew was that giving Jenosa details of her resurrection, after the hunter had first woken up after the painful mutation, had created a full blown epiphany...

88

The first thing that the mind registered was a hot, aching pain that coursed throughout every muscle fiber in of the body; a pain that was an all too similar phantom to the vivid, realistic torture it had endured in a recent nightmare. It had been quite the nightmare indeed, and such semblance quickly made the mind wide awake and recall everything about itself; that it was a tough female named Jenosa Arma.

Groaning from the pain, she tried to recall what else that happened, but it was all just a great big fog. All she knew was that she felt exhausted, and, as weak as she was, trying to move anything else aside from her neck, chest and facial features resulted in a searing agony.

“Oh good, your awake. How are you feeling?” came a concerned voice.

Tired, Jenosa didn't bother looking for the source of the voice. “Can barely move squat I'm so exhausted, not that does me any good to anyway,” she replied groggily, “Muscles feel all hot. What the hell happened to me?”

The speaker walk into her view, and it was a short, brown haired woman in a doctor's coat; who looked oddly familiar. “I think that would be the mutation your went through.”

Jenosa bolted, painfully, halfway to a sitting position, and not just from the words spoken.
She's the woman I saw in my nightmare.... “M-mutation!? You mean, as in my body spasing out and warping?”

“Yes, you could say that. It's mostly with your muscular structure though,” she consoled, “you still look very human; with, well, umm, the exception your eyes flaring occasionally.”

Jenosa relaxed at hearing this,
So it wasn't a dream. Shit that was some experience; well, assuming I can walk again, life shouldn't be so – wait, what am I doing here?

Even before she asked the doctor that question, all of the past events finally became clear, and hit her like a freight train. The archeological job, the people she met, the situation they were in, and her dying...

Shoot, must have been brought here after nearly doing so. Yet, as she looked around the room frantickly, she became confused and worried as she saw nobody else familiar; there should be at least somebody here. “Where's everyone else?” she nearly demanded.

“Everyone else?” the doctor said.

“Everyone from the dig site? I nearly died didn't I. Some of them should be here. Do you even know what happened at the site?”

“Calm down,” the doctor said, but obviously seeming hesitant about what she going to say. “The stories a bit...complicated.” The doctor, who she introduced herself as a Alana, explained what had really happened at the site and her friend. She saw Jenosa blanch noticeably.

“So...I died,” she said a slow, dubious voice, “as in not dead for a minute or two, but for a few hours?”

“If you call a day or two a few hours, then yes.”

Jenosa gave the woman a bemused blink that made the doctor blink back. Inwardly, she was glad everyone had survived, including Kathi and her sanity. But there was one nagging question who's answer she had a feeling wouldn't like. “So...if everyone's long gone after my 'funeral,' I take it my 'resurrection' wasn't exactly someone's plan...”

That was when Alana tensed, and seemed rather hesitant about giving the details, but Jenosa egged her on despite the bad, nagging feeling in her gut. The doc relented with the fact that, without anyone elses official permission, what she had attempted to do. It was something that certainly made Jenosa leery of Alana, as someone knowing about her 'infection' without her permission didn't exactly sit well with her. However, at the same time – and this bother her - Jenosa made out a harrowed expression on the doc's face, as if she had born witness.

“When I – attempted to inject the Frenezine into your body,” she spoke slowly, “it did something completely unexpected. It was...as if there was a 'ghost' of yourself surrounding your body.”

“A ghost?” Jenosa asked, her hairs suddenly standing on end.

Alana nodded, “Even before I used the Fenezine, I swore I could feel the air was
alive, the atmosphere filled with tiny hints of your voice-

Jenosa's eyes widened in fright, her green irises flaring blue;
Even long after it's death roar, she could hear wisps of a struggling voice echoing in the atmosphere throughout the infested chamber...

- and when I injected the frenezine, it seemed like the ghost and it...reacted. As it did, you voice grew clear, like you were breathing a sigh of relief-

...alien voice grew in clarity, and though it struggled to process it's thought, it's words were clear: “Form...Matter...Flesh...Must...Be...RESTORED.

- I swear, it was as if this...aspect and the frenezine blended together and were...condensing into this cellular creature. I saw this yellow, translucent membrane covering this pink, pulsing nucleus, with thick, yellow tendrils attached to every limb of your body. -

Then materializing - no, condensing in mid air was this pulsing sphere of energy that resembled a single-celled creature, with a light-blue-ish membrane surrounding it's pink, eye-like nucleus...

-And then it just seemed to seep strait into your dead body like water to a sponge, your wounds then miraculously healing-”

The energy cell flew, it's voice still ringing, circling around her like a spirit before flying right into her body. She could feel the familiar boost of energy; and yet, at the same time, a it crawling inside her...

Jenosa had turned white as a ghost at the end of Alana's 'story, beginning to hyperventilate as a deep revelation churned inside her gut. She now not recalled not the pain of her 'nightmare,' but the deprivation that had encompassed her entire being before then. That had been real as well, and to her, it signified that she had become the very essence that made up the Scurge...


88

Jenosa savored her mocha as she sipped it, the taste reminding that, to an extent, she was still human. It had taken her some time to adjust to...herself, and during that time, her sixth sense had become far more acute than it had originally been. It was like she was living in between two different worlds, seeing and feeling the real world, and then sensing and seeing the patterns and flow of energy. It was all very intricate really, and she it was one of the few alien aspects of herself that she had gotten quickly used to. After all, she had experienced this before, just now, it was intense, sensing some of the pulsing warmth electrical equipment around her and the unique signature of people passing by.

She had taken a seat up next to the door, wearing a dark green T-shirt, navy blue jeans and a gray, and a blue-green leather Jacket. Coupled with the shades she bought and the bun she had folded up for her pony tail, it would be more difficult for Travis to identify her.

Especially considering that he probably thought her dead.

Speaking of which, she felt his distinct energy pattern shimmer across her awareness, and grinned. There he, making his way to where she expected him to be, and made a subtle motion for Alana to meet him; except she barely got a chance to get up before several thugs entered the café.

Even before she felt the tension rose, she stood on end at feeling a familiar, sharp, distinct energy signature that stood out amongst the other surrounding sources. She could even see it; a bright blue hue among one of the thugs jeans. She watched intently, staying sharp and ready for anything; she shifted when she saw the one called Vega fly at Travis's table, and then run like mad.

She turned, and the damaged caused; the frozen thug was what caught her eye, and her mind, with what she had learned, quickly put two and two together. In fact, she was surprised Travis wasn't making an attempt to chase, which was certainly odd.

And that's when she got an idea.

Grinning, she sat up and took over her shades, looking at Travis with her enthusiastic green eyes. “Y'know, Travis Clark,” she said to from across the room, “knowing your type, I'd thought you'd actually go after the thug who ran out.” Her irises flash that alien light blue color as she turned to run out the door, “Especially considering that what he has on him is some chozo toy. I think it'd be wise for us to both go after him, no?”

Without even waiting for a response, she instantly undid her bun, her trademark red pony tail unfurling, and bolted after Vega.

Alana stood up and shouted, “Hey, Jenosa!”
"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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-Jolly Jay Spaceport, private hanger 011B, 8 hours ago-

"We're sorry, but a security lockdown has been placed upon cargo bay "ZERO-ONE-ONE-BETA". for your own safty, please wait for security personnel to arrive and assist you. Thank you for your cooperation!"

Well, it wasn't saying much, but that had to have been the friendliest way a computer had told Terron he was effectively under arrest. Up until now, things had been going fine: The Illuminus envoy had gone through all the proper docking procedures, had informed the control tower with all the necessary information they would need (including disclosure of the fact that he was armed) and followed all of the instructions that he had been given.

Yet here Terron found himself, standing in the middle of a large, well-lit open hanger, staring down at a large security door at the opposite end of the hanger from his ship. Bright white light shone down upon the numerous storage crates in the area: likely, garbage or supplies from the last ship that docked here that had yet to be moved. Part of the Luminoth envoy wondered if this was what the lockdown was for, but quickly dismissed the idea: nothing in the massive, metal cargo crates looked to be too valuable. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Whatever the case was, Terron believed that that he was going to be stuck in this hanger for quite some time: especially considering the fact that he couldn't board his ship again to pass the time.

However, as it would turn out, he wouldn't have to wait that long for something to happen.

Roughly five minutes after the computer had politely told him he was imprisoned, the metal security door to the hanger opened, and what Terron saw both relieved him and frustrated him: Several security officers who did not look very unhappy. As Terron thought about what was frustrating them, he realized it couldn't have been his clothing: He was dressed in civilian clothing, consisting of no more then Jeans, Heavy black military style boots and A black, long sleeved polo shirt with a white shirt underneath. Hardly something very threatening or suspicious. It couldn't have been his luggage: All he had on him was a very large olive-green duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder. Yeah, it contained three custom guns, an energy bayonet and some other essentials for a long haul, but these items were hardly anything unexpected considering Terron's job description. The illuminus envoy would find out what they wanted soon enough.

"You, civilian, stay where you are." one of the men ordered. Terron's response was to simply raise an eyebrow at the man: Its not like he was going anywhere until he figured out what the heck was going on, anyway. Though the fact that the man had referred to Terron as a "civilian" definitely indicated something was up.

"Is there a problem?" Terron responded calmly, dropping the extremely heavy bag off his shoulder and onto the floor, its loud "thud" causing the security officers who stood no more then eight feet away from him to jump.

"Show us whats in the bag."

"Nope. You know the rules, gentlemen. You need little annoying things like "probable cause", "Warrants" and jazz like that. Also, fix your damn lockdown system: I didn't break any regulations or laws on my way in."

"What?" One of the other three security guards hissed, a very angry expression forming on his face.

"Did I stutter? I told you that you need probable cause and a warrant. Otherwise, this bag stays closed. Now, unless you have anything else to add, Ill be going on my way to have a nice, long chat with your superiors about your lockdown procedures. So if you will excuse me..."

Terron picked up his bag and slowly slipped past the trio of security guards. The illuminus envoy didn't get more then about ten feet away before he heard a rather discomforting and familiar sound: The click of a firing hammer being pulled back on a gun.

"Turn around, dumbass."

Terron complied and, upon doing so, saw the same security guard who ordered him to turn around was the one carrying the weapon. It looked like an old-school six shot revolver. Definitely not standard issue for security officers in spaceports of ANY kind. It was at this point Terron's unconcious suspicions were confirmed: These men were not security officers. They were probably robbers who got some security equipment in order to get the drop on unsuspecting ships docking. It was a rather clever idea, right up to the point when they ran into Terron, that is.

"Open the bag and empty it on the ground."

"Come and get it. Besides, your already screwed: Aren't all these hangers supposed to have surveilance?" Terron responded, a smug grin spreading across his face. He wasn't worried. Just by looking at the fake security guard Terron could tell he was a newbie with guns. The luminoth envoy also came to this conclusion by the way the man's hand shook when he shot the gun, the bullet narrowly missing Terron's left ear.

"Not your problem. Open the damn bag!"

"I told you, come and get it. Here, ill even make it easier on you." Terron responded in a deep, calm and assertive voice. At the same time, he slid the bag along the ground toward the robbers: it now lay right in the middle of the ten foot gap between the two opposing groups. Terron knew everything up to this point had been a gamble, waiting for the men to make a mistake. Now his trap was set...

And to the former soldier's relief, it worked.

Terron watched as one of the men nervously stepped forward toward the bag, he had put himself directly in the line of fire bettween between Terron and the gunman. the instant Terron registered that his first opponent had reached the optimal positioning, he sprung into action. With frightening and precise speed, Terron hunched down and rushed the robber standing over his bag. The element of surprise played a big roll here: The nearest robber twitched somewhat, a knee jerk and unconscious reaction to Terrons sudden movement. this prevented him from intercepting Terron's initial maneuver.

Which was as efficient as it was effective.

Once Terron had closed the distance, he slammed his right fist into the man's lower abdomen, around the area where his diaphram should have been. The reaction was instantaneous and debilitating, the man seizing up as the wind was knocked out of him. The next instant, Terron spun the immobilized robber around and gripped the back of his shirt. Using his cybernetic strength, Terron lifted the man off the ground and charged the second robber: the man with the firearm. In a split second, he closed the distance, a single shot ringing out through the air. Not feeling the telltale sign of being shot, Terron knew the plan was still in progress, and continued to the next stage.

Once the distance had been closed, Terron dropped the first, immobilized robber and grabbed the hand of the second. With a violent and devastatingly quick twist, Terron twisted the second man's hand and, in turn, arm, until a telltale snap echoed through the air, indicating he had broken the individual's elbow. once this had happened, he pulled the second man toward the first, slamming the two into each other. Another quick pull of the gunman's hand forced him to drop the firearm. In a final and aggressive motion, Terron then grabbed the two bumbling and injured men and threw them to the ground. the two men's heads collided with the floor, knocking them unconcious.

By this time, the third attacker had brandished a knife, and came charging at terron from the left. A quick stabbing motion was made at Terron's exposed left-flank, in an attempt to inflict severe abdominal damage. This attempt, however, had already been taken into consideration by the criminal's target.

Terron's reaction could have been considered more then Stellar: with ease and precision, the illuminus envoy simply caught the man's hand before the knife penetrated his skin. Terron attempted to follow up this catch, with limited success: his opponent knew how to grapple, in this case, and simply twisted his wrist free of Terron's grip before he could secure it. Before allowing his opponent to attack him again, however, Terron quickly tensed his left hand into a fist and slammed it into the third attacker's throat. The hit was sufficient to cause the third robber to seize up for a brief moment: long enough for Terron to throw his final opponent to the ground.

The combat was simple, brutal and quick: almost an antithesis to what one might expect of Terron. It was a matter preferred to keep CQC that way, as most military fighters did not fight like traditional practitioners of martial arts. they excluded unecessary movements for combat. Yes, sometimes the fancy kicks and manuvers had their place, but it was a commonheld beleif among some CQC combatants that situations dictated the combat maneuver, not the other way around.

Terron was one of those kinds of practitioners.

Surveying his surroundings, Terron made sure that none of the men were dead: the last thing he wanted was to have killed someone unintentionally. Broken limbs and concussions were one thing, dead bodies entirely another. Before Terron could finish checking the culprits vitals, however, he heard another sound he had heard far too many times before.

"FREEZE!"

Terron immediately complied. A quick turn of his head indicated who had said the order: a heavily armed federation soldier. one who definitely looked like someone who would shoot Terron with an energy weapon if he did not comply.

"Hands above your head! Get on your knees! Do not move!"

Again, Terron complied, now hearing the sound of more heavy footsteps around him. From the sound of it, they had sent quite a few men down to the hanger: possibly in response to the lockdown? An explanation, but without anything to back it up it was just an assumption at this point. For now, Terron was just going to have to deal with the obvious fact that he was not going anywhere but a cell for the time being.

Oh well. Worse things had happened.

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

-Jolly Jay station, federation military sector, officer of commander J. Reynolds, 2 hours before present-

"My deepest apologies for everything that has happened, Mr. Xennoth. I understand your frustration with being detained. It was simply a part of federation procedure. All charges will be immediately dropped, and I will personally see to it that the proper individuals are reprimanded"

Terron's response was a long, dejected sigh, followed by a few moments of silence in which he rubbed his head in frustration. His disdain was understandable: in the past six hours, Terron had been arrested, thrown into a cell with the same men who had tried to rob him, questioned, and deprived of his belongings alongside many frustrating beuracratic procedures. Normally, Terron could understand this, but the idea that he could have been spared this trouble still lingered in his mind. If the dumbass gung-ho recruits had just bothered to look up Terron's records and check with higher ups, none of this would have happened. Instead, Terron would have been able to talk to the man who sat in front of him much sooner.

"There isn't any need to seriously reprimand them, commander: they were just doing their job. Just make sure in the future they don't overlook procedure as much as they did this time: otherwise you guys will be buried in legal bullshit for years to come."

"Very well. I'll take your comments under advisement" the commander responded calmly. "At any rate, I suppose now that things are sorted out, I should ask the inevitable question of-"

"Why the hell I'm here in the first place?" Terron interrupted, finishing the commanders sentence for him. The commander raised an eyebrow in response, clearly not used to such insubordinate behavior.

"Exactly."

"I was hired to track down some technology that is, supposedly, going to be sold on the black market. Nasty technology thats been causing some problems for you guys here. I can't disclose the exact nature of that tech, though, due to-"

"I assume your referring to the chozo technology we've been trying to get off the streets?" The commander interrupted, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I'm aware of the issue, though I don't agree with the solution. We don't need an envoy from the Illuminus to recover technology in our own cities. Besides, don't you have better things to do, like kissing up to politicians or seducing their daughters?"

A mischevious grin spread across Terron's face: so the commander wasn't a complete stiffass after all. He was curiously well informed, and had a rather abrasive sense of humor. Oh well, Terron could deal with that. Humor was always good for the Illuminus envoy, even if it was a little offbeat.

"Ill have you know, I never have done anything your suggesting...regarding politicians, at least." Terron said, his mischevious grin now transforming into a rather clever smile.

"Well played. At any rate, The orders come down from the top, so I guess I have no choice but to comply. What is it you need in order to help?"

"A place to stay other then a cell, some supplies for my ship, and more information on this "chozo" tech and who might have it. Right now, All I know is that its out there on the streets. I have no idea where to even start looking. Also, some transportation would be nice."

"Very well. Ill see to it that all of that is set up. Don't expect first class accomdations though: this is on the taxpayers dime, after all. Aside from the room, everything else is going to take some time, especially on the information front. Ill see if I can set up some meetings to get everything moving. Until then, do as you please within reason." The commander responded, heavily enphasising the words "within reason".

"Alright. Also, where's my stuff? you know, the heavy bag full of things I need to do my job?"

"Ill have it sent to your temporary quarters. Ill make sure everything is accounted for in an inventory, of course."

"You realize how heavy that bag is right? its about 300 pounds. The only reason I'm able to carry it is because of fancy cybernetics. I wouldn't want to be the guy carrying that thing up the stairs without cybernetics or help."

"Is that so? oh well. Perhaps I should have told the reprimanded soldiers that before I sent them out..." The commander responded, a mischevious grin spreading across his face that made him look more creepy then mischevious.

"Well, in that case, Ill be going now. I've got work to do, and that chozo tech wont rescue itself." Terron stated, standing up and slowly walking toward the exit of the office.

"Wait."

Terron stopped and, with a confused look on his face, turned to face the commander, who was now standing up. The look on the man's face was one of great seriousness, indicating to Terron he had something rather important to say.

"I have a message from General Evans."

Aw hell. Not this again. At least that explained how Evan's knew about Terron's little "excursions" with certain unnamed politician's daughters. The instant the commander had even mentioned Evans name, Terron knew what was coming: This was the same thing he got whenever he met up with the federation military for high-risk missions. The same offer, like recycled meat: simply packed in a different label.

"He wants me to rejoin the federation military, right? whats the rank hes offering now?" Terron inquired, clearly a tone of irritation lingering in his voice.

"He wants you to lead a special task force."

"Right."

"Listen, Mr. Xennoth, it isn't too late to-"

"Don't start. I've heard every possible speech a guy could make with reasons I should rejoin the federation military. Every. Single. One. They all revolve around soldiers pride, honor and stuff like that. They all assume the same thing: that I'm just a glorified mercenary who happens to have diplomatic immunity. They all assume I'm half the man I was before the R977 incident. Allow me to make this easier for you: nothing has changed. I'm still the same man. I still believe in the federation. I'm simply taking a different path to the same goal. Nothing more, Nothing less." Terron responded. It was a rather well thought out speech. Then again, this was not the first time he had to give it, so Terron had some practice using it.

"If you've heard so many reasons, why haven't you done it?" The commander responded.

"None of your damn business."

"...Very well."

An awkward silence filled the room. The kind of silence that happens after an intense discussion, no matter how short. The kind of silence Terron hated. It was for that reason that part of Terron felt compelled to ask a very important question of the commander:

"One last thing before I go: know any good places to eat nearby wherever the hell I'm staying? I'm freaking starved."

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

-Durendel City, 66th block, present-

Finally things were starting to look up. After so many hours of meaningless beuracratic bull, Terron was FINALLY out and about, able to go and do his job. It was nice, not being in a cell, office, or cramped space dock. It was nice being able to get some fresh evening air after all the things Terron had put up with today. However, the thing that really pleased terron was that he was finally going to be able to get some real. freaking. food.

Dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing since his imprisonment 8 hours earlier, with the addition of a brown jacket, Terron felt oddly comfortable in the city as he strode down the block. was because he had his Orochi-custom magnums in a shoulder holster? Maybe. Though it also could have been the fact that this was the first time he had been in a city in quite some time. it was nice to get away from the Ikaruga every once in awhile, in order to avoid the rather nasty effects of cabin fever. Or was it ship fever if you were onboard a spaceship?

Eh, who cared? The point was, things were finally starting to look up for Terron as he confidently strode down the street. His destination was the "Haven Cafe", a small, out of the way cafe that supposedly had a mean cup of coffee and delicious omelets (A food terron was really craving right now). After a few minutes of walking, Terron finally found his destination. The spring in his step stronger then ever, he strode nearby the fire exit to the cafe and...

WHAM!

The door swung open, knocking Terron off his feet. Looking up, he saw some random guy running away from the cafe. A dine and dasher? possibly. Standing up, Terron barely had time to dodge the door again when he saw the door swing open again, this time having a fairly attractive red haired woman exit the cafe, running after the earlier running man. At this point, Terron didn't have probable cause to run after either of them, so all he did was watch and mutter a single phrase:

"What the hell?"
Edited by Gate, Nov 5 2010, 11:48 PM.
"Love, in its many forms, is life's greatest gift. Its the one worth fighting for. I died for it once...and even though it didn't turn out so well for me, looking back, I wouldn't have done anything differently."
-Terron Xennoth-
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
It was like he was in a dream even though he knew it not to be.

Travis turned to meet the mention of his name, and his blood for a moment ran cold. It was like seeing a ghost. The distinct green eyes, the flaring red hair...

For a moment he stood up at his table, completely dumbfounded. He blinked.

"Huh?"

The first time seeing an image of her since then, and this was his condensed, dull, stupid reaction.

.... no no NO! It couldn't be! Jenosa was resting peacefully somewhere in a grave! He shook his head for a moment as if trying to hurl something off; except what Travis saw was no illusion.

"Y'know, Travis Clark... knowing your type, I'd thought you'd actually go after the thug who ran out. Especially considering that what he has on him is some chozo toy. I think it'd be wise for us to both go after him, no?”

And thus came down the ponytail, breaking the haze of disbelief. Jenosa Arma stood before him, and very, very much alive.

“Hey, Jenosa!” The only calls of the other woman who had been sitting with her echoed.

As she bolted out, he quickly looked at the thugs and realized -where- he had seen that before.

(Oh CRAP!) He knew just what it was, too. It was a good thing he had paid already.

"Thanks for the tea ladies, gotta run..." He said over his shoulder, stopping only before the other woman and nodding before heading upstairs to the second floor balcony in a sprint.

Once he was clear out of range of furniture and other things that looked expensive, Travis lowered his sleeve and input a secquence of buttons. The area glowed for a moment with an eerie cyan light, and then suddenly, with a bit of a crackle and a flash, an armored figure jumped off the balcony and into the streets below, swinging from pole to brick without leaving destruction in his wake, something held in his hand.

A shadow loomed over Jenosa and suddenly before her stood a collossus clad in metal as he landed and rose from the manicured lawn of a nearby lot.

Travis handed her his Federation standard issue pistol.

"Long Live the Dead, eh?" He said, hitting a button to clear the tint of the visor temporarily. "Very clever. You knew just how to get my attention without coming out and saying it. Welcome back Jenosa."

And then, he did something else; Travis smiled warmly, as if seeing her alive relieved him of a great weight.
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Okay, NOW he had reasonable suspicion to follow the young woman.

After quickly making his way to the front enterance to the cafe, Terron had walked in, only to find the place in chaos: people scrambling to get themselves in order, the waitresses getting on holophones with the police, broken glass scattered throughout the entire store. In short, it was complete chaos. What really clinched it, however, was the fact that there was a man standing in the cafe who was frozen solid. Not in the 'oh god, I'm so scared' frozen solid, he had actually been transformed into a solid chunk of ice.

Terron, although not familiar with chozo technology, had heard rumors in his rookie days as a federation soldier about an "ice weapon". It was used by a legendary bounty hunter by the name of Samus Aran apparently, and had supposedly been essential in the war against the metroids. If Terron's immediate hypothesis was correct, then the chozo technology in question was likely that ice weapon. Though he had more important things to focus on then that particular hypothesis right now.

"What happened here?" Terron inquired of a nearby waitress.

"S-some men came in and attacked one of the customers. There was some kind of shots and then they ran off..."

As much as Terron wanted to say and secure the scene (and possibly calm down the customers) he knew that he had more important things to do. Based on what he had just seen, it would be safe to guess that the man who he had seen exiting the building was the one with the chozo weapon, or at least had some kind of connection to it. It was also safe to guess the red haired woman was involved somehow as well.

Terron, without waiting to follow up with other customers or staff quickly exited the store, and quickly found yet another lead to follow: an eerie cyan glow from a balcony above him, followed soon after by the form of an armored individual swinging above the streets. Reasonable suspicion? Yeah, more like probable cause at this point. Quietly, with great stealth and speed given to him by his cybernetic limbs, Terron followed the swinging armored individual on foot. Challenging, considering the circumstances and the armored individual's speed, but not impossible. It did not take the Illuminus envoy very long to catch up, however, and soon he found himself hiding behind the cover of a car roughly a hundred feet away, nearby where the armored individual had stopped. He had apparently ceased his swinging in order to talk to the same red haired woman that had exited the cafe earlier.

Perfect. Already Terron had a lead to work with, and now believed that he could safely and quietly follow the two individuals. Hopefully, they would lead him to the chozo technology. Terron would then have to improvise on how to arrest the individuals or recover the technology, but for now, one step at a time was the best way to approach the issue.

At least thats what Terron hoped.
"Love, in its many forms, is life's greatest gift. Its the one worth fighting for. I died for it once...and even though it didn't turn out so well for me, looking back, I wouldn't have done anything differently."
-Terron Xennoth-
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Jenosa wasn't really the kind of person that would help the general society deal with their dirtier problems unless she was getting paid for it. She was more or less a free soul minding her own business as she made a living for herself in a way she enjoyed the most. That said, she obviously wasn't amoral, and she was fairly sympathetic, often willing to do the right thing if the situation presented itself.

That being said, Jenosa was mostly getting Travis's attention in such a way purely for the fun of the chase, knowing full well that Travis would no doubt react to the comment. Which was why she frowned when Travis had caught up to her almost instantly with his armor.

"Hey, cheater," she spoke in a playfully annoyed voice, "do you always chase someone after pulling your armor magically out your ass." She cracked a grin at him as she took the piston, the comment mostly being a play of words; it was good to see him. At the same time, she winced inwardly, intricately feeling a huge variety of pulsing, vibrant flowing energy flowing around and within Travis's suit. Not only was it a disturbing reminder of what she had become, but she could feel her instincts - her alien ones - reeling from the contact, as if she wanted to do something that clearly wasn't human at all.

It might have been his imagination, but for a split second, Travis might have seen her enthusiastic green irises flare an eeries, bright blue as she took the gun from him.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind; she reminded herself that she was still very much human, and she wasn't about to let it get in the way of who she was. She chuckled at the mention of her messages, "Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. Have to say though, I was expecting you to be rather skeptical even now."
"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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