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After-Effect; Post-AC RP
Topic Started: Oct 24 2010, 10:41 AM (21,546 Views)
~Alissa~
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“Whoa…what the hell is I she doing here”

It was the statement that had raised Alissa’s awareness, in a fluid motion she had liberated her pistols from their holsters under her coat and had trained them on the two armed men by the time the Shot gun had been leveled at Jenossa. She was aware of omega moving to the man though she made no move to break aim from the two men.

“I am not picking up a spirit of cooperation”

This was in truth exactly what she had been concerned about; there was no need to bring the whole group along for a sit down with a couple of thugs, even those as well connected as Mr. Vega. Though she had failed to account for the reaction to Jenossa but on the balance this is why she had suggested she go alone.

“Put the weapon away, we will do the same, and we can talk”
That it had taken less than a minute for the situation to get that tense was a bad sign, Vega looked worn but at least appeared to have it together enough to try and control his thug. It’s a shame Nick wouldn’t listen.
Edited by Alissa, May 29 2012, 10:21 PM.
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"Whoa... what the hell is she doing here?"

Jenosa saw the all familiar Nick Scanlan raise his shotgun to her face as she came walked. "You're supposed to be dead," he growled at her.

'Oh great, another person who knew about my 'death',' Jenosa thought instantly. 'Why am I not surprised he's here?'

Before she even had a chance to open her mouth to explain herself, however, Omega did exactly the one thing she did not want him to do. She swore under her breath as he tossed the gun away in one swift motion all the while Alissa got defensive on reflex.

"Hang on now!" she said with a tinge of urgency to Alissa, putting her hand on ALissa's gun in a gesture to lower it, unsure of how her friend would react to it. To Jenosa, it was almost like Alissa had entered some interrogation mode, an atmosphere she didn't want. "Like Travis said, we're just here for answer, not to point guns unnecessarily; which also includes us. As for Nick, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that's he's at least entitled to an answer."

She turned to Nick with a stoic expression on her face; it was as if he still held the barrel of the shotgun to her face, and honestly, she would have felt more comfortable with the actual gun being held at her. "Yes, I'm for real. In the flesh, no cybernetic parts. And the very same person that Grace stabbed in the stomach while they were struggling. Have to say it was quite a fight; you might say I respect what she had to do, even if it had cost me my a 'life.'"

Her green eyes flickered a light, incandescent blue as she continued, "I might even say she ended my life and gave me a new one. Honestly, I can't give you a strait answer in how my physiology allowed me to come back from the dead. What I will say, however, is that its something which fits nicely into one of Delacroix's little schemes, and you can probably guess that's one of the reasons why we're after him; something I'm pretty sure you know about."
"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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Travis took one look at the shotgun Nick held in hand and exhaled sharply, an uncharacteristic sign of frustration from the bounty hunter. He knew Scanlan had slipped away from the battle at the ruins, and later learned that he had his daughter in tow from Faulias Khayorn.

"It's... complica-"

And that's when things began to get very tense in the penthouse.

Much like his previous manner on Hunroth, Omega had instinctively swept in at the sight of threatening body language. Travis should've figured as much; although capable of reason and profound thought, the metroid male was still very much governed by his instincts, and Nick drawing a fully-loaded shotgun and aiming it at Jenosa did not help to temper that impulse. Most of the group likely did not catch the imposing blur sidestepping Travis until the sound of crunching metal, and disarmed the gangster looking up with a mix of surprise and perhaps fear. After all, Omega had disarmed him with just a few simple, fluid motions.

And then of course, Alissa, being new to this idea of talking it seemed, reached for her weapon. Not good; if things weren't tense with Omega stepping in before, they were now.

Travis gave a sideward glance to Z'gato, as if to say, "Not yet" just in case the chozo had been shuffling with his armor under the cloak.

(Ugh, this is is going to come apart in a minute if we're not careful...) He thought to himself.

And then, finally, a voice of sound logic; Jenosa had spoken up.

"Yes, I'm for real. In the flesh, no cybernetic parts. And the very same person that Grace stabbed in the stomach while they were struggling. Have to say it was quite a fight; you might say I respect what she had to do, even if it had cost me my a 'life.'"

He observed for a moment as the woman continued. There was that flash of the eyes again. Travis had to admit, that glow made him a bit uneasy; if only for the sake of one major question he couldn't answer: what was it?

"It's as she says." Travis quickly added in, flexing his body. "I think you gentlemen know why we've been leaving you both haggard these last few days. I want everything on Delacroix. Everything. Where he sleeps, what he eats, where he relieves himself. You get the idea. After all, you don't want to go down for him, right, Jimmy?

"By the way," He added. "if it's any relief to you? Your brother didn't rat you out at all; we pretty much figured out how far the rabbit hole went as far as the Vega family is concerned in this matter; I had already suspected it when I confiscated the gun and learned his name. I have to say though, he isn't like you at all; he's impulsive, short-tempered, and short-sighted; I wouldn't think you two were blood at all if it weren't for the last name and the resemblance."
Edited by Deadly Aim, May 31 2012, 02:38 PM.
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Instinctively, Jimmy raised his weapon, first pointing it at Omega, then at the woman pointing her guns at him. "I am not picking up a spirit of cooperation," she said. This must have been the so-called White-Haired Chick that Rex had told him about. Achilles, her name was. Jimmy had done his due diligence, but there was next to nothing on record about her. She was an unknown quantity, and he did not like unknown quantities.

A few tense seconds passed, Jimmy's eyes shifting back and forth between among all the hunters, half expecting a sniper shot to ring out at any second, but Derrick showed restraint, just as he was instructed. Then Jimmy noticed the glass of ice water he'd been drinking, needing something cold to counteract all the coffee. He grabbed the glass and threw the drink in Omega's face, the sudden shock of cold making the creature wince just enough for Nick to pry himself free.

"You wanna cooperate, you put that dog on a leash!" he shouted at the hunters.

"I coulda handled it, Jim."

"Nick, shut the fuck up!" He would go to bat for his man, but that didn't mean he was pleased with how things had unfolded.

"And please, Travis, spare me the Joe Friday routine, would you? You think I'm afraid of prison? I already been inside once, or you forgotten already?"

The gangster sighed and put down his weapon. "Please, make yourselves at home," he said to them facetiously before retreating into the kitchen to get himself more coffee.

While Jimmy's penthouse was certainly very nice and no doubt obscenely expensive, it also had a very minimalist feel to it. His furniture, again while not cheap, seemed merely functional. Floor to ceiling glass windows provided plenty of sunlight, though at the moment there was nothing but the steady drumbeat of the rain. The penthouse was sparsely decorated, if at all, and most prominently was a framed picture of Jimmy, Grace, and Rex together at the beach sitting on the end table.

"I put some more coffee on," said Jimmy as he returned from the kitchen with a steaming cup of Joe. "Help yourselves when it's ready." He took a seat on the couch, taking a long drink from his mug and closing his eyes for a moment.

"Let me personally apologize for Rex's behavior. He's a good kid, he just don't know any better. Makes a lot of bad decisions, you know?"

"But you ain't here for Rex. You're here for Delacroix. Now, I'm sure you've all pretty much figured out by now that this is bigger than some old swamp rat who likes to play with Phazon. The military's been experimenting with the stuff almost since it was originally discovered. Delacroix just happens to know A, how it get it, and B, what to do with it. Phazon's his meal ticket. It's what keeps the government from throwing him in a cell.

"Don't ask me what they're up to, though. I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't wanna know." Lighting himself a fresh cigarette, he considered Jenosa's words about Delacroix's schemes. Whatever she meant, it probably wasn't good. "Yeah, I built the Ice Beam. And yeah, Nick and Grace were the ones who got it for him in the first place." Most of them had been there on G79, according to Nick. No point in denying what they all saw firsthand. "Anything beyond that though, I keep my distance. Genetic experimentation just ain't my thing.

"They're building themselves a super soldier, you guessed that I'm sure. Just the latest in a long line of military projects with varying degrees of success. For it's part, Project Vertigo goes back nearly a decade, when we - and by 'we' I mean humans, the Federation - when we started to put together the Pirates' Phazon research into something we could actually work with. And ever since then, the military has been trying to create their very own Phazon soldier, and do it without growing some unholy abomination like the Pirates did. And Delacroix's the man with the Phazon, so he's been knee deep in it all since the beginning. Been talking about 'taking things to the next level,' or some such bullshit. He's even got some fat Nazi scientist from the Confederation working form him now. He's thinking big."
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Travis let out a long, drawn out sigh, half out of relief and half out of annoyance as the tension slowly started to drain out of the room.

"Yeah, I know you have, Jimmy... but you don't strike me as the kind of man who prefers spending most of his time staring at the ceiling of a cell block. Also, a bit of friendly advice...? Don't call my friend here a dog. Even if I wanted to put a leash on him, there isn't much except my wits to stop him from ripping my arms off - and *yours*, if he was so inclined. Just be glad he has the restraint to hold back. But enough about that, we're here to talk."

"Please make yourselves at home," Jimmy had uttered in a tone barely concealing his desire to say the contary, Travis following the gangster inside, the rest of the group not far behind him.

Looking around the penthouse, it was obvious that Jimmy had been living in a fairly nice place, even though its occupant otherwise showed wear from his own nerves. Travis had done similar mind games against other bounty heads, and not many were as wound up and as tense as Jimmy Vega was at this second. The fact that the gangster had retreated to the kitchen was enough to tell the story along with his face; he likely had not been sleeping very well, if at all.

"Now, I'm sure you've all pretty much figured out by now that this is bigger than some old swamp rat who likes to play with Phazon. The military's been experimenting with the stuff almost since it was originally discovered. Delacroix just happens to know A, how it get it, and B, what to do with it. Phazon's his meal ticket. It's what keeps the government from throwing him in a cell."

Travis sighed at the mention of the military. That explained much, especially the bizarre incident at the top of the hotel. He had known of the military's experiments with the bio-mutagen Phazon, recalling the "Secondary Corruption" incident fresh in his mind; the incident in which he was forced to nearly kill his dear friend. After that, it seemed like the Federation appeared to finally recognize the danger the bio-radioactive mutagen held, and ceased its experimentation and development of Phazon weapons; at least, publicly. He didn't doubt that somebody was still foolish enough to experiment with it, though; the power Phazon offered was tempting.

(Well, that certainly explains alot, although I had suspected somebody was pulling strings for him somewhere. But it also confirms something I wish wasn't the case...) He thought to himself as he listened further to Jimmy's explanation.

"Don't ask me what they're up to, though. I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't wanna know......... Yeah, I built the Ice Beam. And yeah, Nick and Grace were the ones who got it for him in the first place." Most of them had been there on G79, according to Nick. No point in denying what they all saw firsthand. "Anything beyond that though, I keep my distance. Genetic experimentation just ain't my thing.

"They're building themselves a super soldier, you guessed that I'm sure. Just the latest in a long line of military projects with varying degrees of success. For it's part, Project Vertigo goes back nearly a decade, when we - and by 'we' I mean humans, the Federation - when we started to put together the Pirates' Phazon research into something we could actually work with. And ever since then, the military has been trying to create their very own Phazon soldier, and do it without growing some unholy abomination like the Pirates did. And Delacroix's the man with the Phazon, so he's been knee deep in it all since the beginning. Been talking about 'taking things to the next level,' or some such bullshit. He's even got some fat Nazi scientist from the Confederation working form him now. He's thinking big."

Travis shook his head, nodding in understanding. "I... had that impression from your brother. He's certainly not like you. Even though you're no saint, I know you well enough to know you have more tact then your brother. That's aside from the point though... Jimmy, I don't mean to be rude in saying this, and while I'm pretty sure I don't need to I will anyway; don't get involved anymore with Phazon. That stuff is -dangerous-. I not only had to put down your associate Keeler because of it, but I also nearly had to kill a very dear friend of mine. I don't know if you care to listen on my opinion on that, but consider it; it isn't worth any amount of credits in the Federation.

The expression of Travis' face hinted at a pained thought behind his usually cold, to-the-point demeanor, the hunter flinching if only for a moment before continuing. Even if it was a mostly irrelevant point, the look on the hunter's face suggested he knew very intimately the dangers of Phazon.

"Getting back to the point, though... I'll be blunt; I think Delacroix's playing with fire," He said, looking back over at Jimmy. "And apparently from your account, he is too focused on his wallet at the moment to consider what is going to happen after this traitor in the Federation military has no more use for him, although I doubt he's that simple-minded; if this person is as ruthless as he seems though, I guarantee they won't simply let him walk around free once the supplies stop coming; the military likes control, after all. You mentioned a scientist from the Confederation, though? Do you know his name or anything else about him except for his ethics and existence?"
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Instead of taking a seat, Z'Gato leaned against the wall beside the main door into the room. He opted to keep everyone and everything within his field of vision, though his stance wasn't aggressive. At least, not yet, anyway. His avian eyes scanned the room, his head moving around in order to get a good look at the room, as if searching for anything that might be amiss or a trap. However, Z'Gato could not spot anything, his unfamiliarity with human decor and aesthetic tastes making it rather difficult to know if one object was merely decoration or an elaborate explosive. As such, Z'Gato felt on edge during the entire conversation, especially when the subject of a 'super soldier' and 'Phazon' was brought up.

Z'Gato shifted uncomfortably. He did not like what he was hearing, causing him to glance over at Jenosa at least a few times. Once again, the question if this was the real Jenosa or not arose, and also once again, the painful "lesson" he was told at the hand of Omega flared through his mind. The Chozo could not immediately banish his suspicions, but Omega felt passionate about the subject, so there was really no use in it up, especially in an environment like this.

Still, the idea of Travis, who had thus far appeared infallible and perhaps a little more combat capable than Z'Gato (despite Z'Gato's many, many years of combat training and experience), had regrets of his own forced Z'Gato to pay even more attention to the conversation at hand. Z'Gato was not normally a curious individual, but that particular subject went through his mind more clearly than most.

"So you were the one that had constructed the Ice Beam," Z'Gato confirmed grudgingly as he looked over at Vega. "Maybe you will understand why I am here," The Chozo said, tossing the hood of his cloak and robes back to reveal his avian features and yellow feathers. He looked livid. "Your...delving into relics that are part of my race's heritage and history obviously trouble me. Severely," Z'Gato said, pushing himself away from the wall to stand at his full height.

At this point, all kinds of ideas ran through Z'Gato's mind. He could just blast this man away with his arm cannon, an obviously easy task considering the circumstances. So easy, in fact, there would be no honor in it aside from avenging the defilement of such relics. There was always the task of cutting off Vega's supply, but then again, Z'Gato remembered hearing a rumor from his younger days that there were possibly hundreds, if not thousands, of outposts constructed by the Chozo at their military height of power. There was one rumored to be here on Earth, even. There would be no way of truly preventing this Vega person from somehow finding more.

This was probably what Z'Gato disliked the most: Complex problems which required elaborate solutions. Z'Gato was not good at elaborate; He was very much good at the most direct, brutal solution to all things. Once again, his old motto would not fit into this particular situation.

Violence solves everything, indeed, Z'Gato thought, realizing unmitigated brutality would not get Z'Gato the results he truly wanted. Still, to see this man's blood run down the opposite wall would feel far too good.

I do not think I am that kind of individual anymore... He reminded himself with regret.

He leaned against the wall again. "But that is not our errand today. Our errand lies in Delacroix and this 'super' soldier project."
Marching to the Black Gates...
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Jenosa, like some of the others, was tense with the little stand-off, her hand reflexively hovered next to her handgun in preperation. And Jimmy, being a weapons smuggler, might have recognized the distinctive, violet features of the thick grip of a Gemini gun, a very rare, energy round-based side-arm. The weapon itself, while not packing as big a punch as the Hyrda, was known and prized for custimization, and, following it's name sake, literally being a gun composed of two. Since production of the model stopped decades ago, it's even considered an antique to some.

Thankfully, to her relief, Jimmy put the gun down, and though still anxious, she relaxed noticable with a sigh - she was really not in the mood for drama at the moment. Now knowing there wasn't going to be any immediate shoot out – though still ready to bolt into action – she oddly did make herself at home while waiting for Jimmy. Unlike Travis, Jenosa had no heated history with the so-called gangster, and while she didn't like to mingle with their type in general, she respected weapons smuggling to a degree; but only so much without tossing ones morales out the window. The line of job wasn't all too disimilar from the kind of work she used to do back in the Confederation space

As a result, she admired the houses scenary as she walked about slowly, only sparing Nick a brief glance from time to time, who eyed her suspisciously – and she didn't blame him all things considered. She had to admit, at the very least she liked Jimmy's taste in house ware; expensive but simple, nothing over extravagent. The whole situation brought back nastalgia of when she used to been invited to a client's cozy, little abode for a 'private' debriefing, given her previous line of work.

"I put some more coffee on," said Jimmy as he returned from the kitchen with a steaming cup of Joe. "Help yourselves when it's ready." He took a seat on the couch, taking a long drink from his mug and closing his eyes for a moment.

"You know, I might just do that. This could be a long day for me," Jenosa replied as she sat into a spare chair opposite of him, appearing very anxious to hear what he had o say.

She listened very tentatively as Jimmy spoke; taking in every word. Indeed, her fears were confirmed that the government were actually involved in this, something that bothered her even more given the nature of the virus and its relation to her own government She wanted any idea kind of idea of what the Federation would be doing with that blood sample of hers.

But it was the mentioned of the Confederation scientist that got her her opened wide in surprise. “What!?” she said, appearing shocked, “How is a Confederation scientist involved in all of this? Why?”

Even as she said that, the words “fat Nazi scientist” rang inside her head like a bell. Strange, it vaguely reminded her of someone.
"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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"So it was you that killed Keeler," Jimmy said, casting a wry grin at Travis. "I never knew that. You hear all kinds of crazy things though."

“How is a Confederation scientist involved in all of this? Why?” Jenosa demanded to know.

"Couldn't tell you," Jimmy said. "All I heard was, 'something special, just for the redhead.' And that's a direct quote right there. My guess is that it's got something to do with the fact that you're sitting here in my living room talking to me instead of being buried underneath the desert. Stuff like that tends to draw attention to yourself.

"And Travis?" he said, turning back to Deadeye. "Don't be so naive. Jenkins ain't no traitor. He's doing exactly what the government wants him to do. Build us the ultimate warrior. Long as he gets results, they ain't into asking him a whole lotta questions, know what I mean? Plausible deniability. Get used to that concept, cause you're gonna be hearing about it a lot."

He sighed, and let out a nervous snicker. They really had no idea what they were getting themselves into, did they?

"Travis, you're one of the good guys, everyone knows that. But sometimes... sometimes you can be too heroic for your own good. You may think you have the truth on your side - and let's face it, you probably do - and once you've won the battle everyone will see just what a bad dude Jenkins is. But you know, sometimes the truth don't matter so much. Not when the Man is trying to protect his own. Look at what happened to Samus Aran. It don't matter how right you are, they'll hunt you down just the same as her. So you better be prepared."

He was about to say something else, but before he could continue, the large hooded figure rose from his seat, evidently having decided that he'd heard enough. "So you were the one that had constructed the Ice Beam," he said. "Maybe you will understand why I am here." With that, it pulled back it's hood to reveal its face.

"Holy shit... that's a real Chozo."

"Told you," Nick muttered.

"Nick, shut up."

"Your...delving into relics that are part of my race's heritage and history obviously trouble me. Severely,"

"Okay, look man..." Jimmy said, chuckling nervously and finding it a bit difficult to make eye contact with him (Or was it a her? You never could tell with aliens). It was as uneasy as he'd been all night.

"First of all," he finally said, "that shit wasn't doing nobody any good just lying there buried underneath the sand. If it wasn't for people delving into your ancient relics, the whole galaxy would have forgotten about you guys a long time ago. And besides, what was your people using it for anyway, huh? Raising flowers? Grooming puppies? It's a weapon. And it's a weapon most likely to be used by punks who ain't got the balls to get rung up on a murder rap. So don't give me none of this bullshit about it falling into the wrong hands, okay? Cause our people was making weapons way more lethal than that hundreds of years ago."

Jimmy pulled a cigarette from the pack on the coffee table, but didn't light it right away. The Chozo had gotten him thinking about something Grace had said a long time ago. They were vacationing out west, at a hotel and casino long rumored to be haunted. This being North America, naturally it was assumed dispossessed spirits from an ancient Indian burial ground were to blame. I'll be fine, Grace said, my ancestors won't attack their own. Never mind that she was Apache and they were in Navajo country.

"You know what, let me show you something," he said, finally lighting his cigarette. "Hey Nick, do me a favor will you? Go get that big ol' weapon case that's under my bed and bring it here."

"Why don't you get it your damn self?"

"Cause I asked you to get it, now fucking go get it, goddammit." He turned back to the group shaking his head. "Swear to God, he is worse than a woman."

A moment later, Nick reemerged from the bedroom and set a large, heavy weapon case down on the coffee table. Jimmy fiddled with the combination and the case snapped open, and he spun it around to show the hunters it's contents.

Jimmy Vega had a Chozo arm cannon.

It was obviously very old, covered in more scratches, dents, and scorch marks that either Z'Gato or Samus would be able to accumulate in a single lifetime. Inside the case was also stuffed a notebook filled with hand drawn schematics and extensive notes in two different sets of handwriting.

"This right here... this is why guys like Delacroix come to me. Now before you go getting all possessive on me, it belonged to my Old Man," Jimmy said, looking Z'Gato directly in the eye this time. "He gave it to me before he went to prison. And he never told me where he got it from, so don't even ask. All I know is that it was nothing but a doorstop when he got his hands on it. He worked on it for years, and actually got the thing to turn on. Then it was my turn. I got it to fire."

At the edge of the table was a small touch screen console. Jimmy tapped a few buttons, and a holographic video was projected into the center of the room. In the video, shot by Jimmy himself, Nick could be seen testing out the arm cannon at a shooting range, blasting a freestanding sentry gun turret with each one of the weapon's four beams. Off camera, Grace and Ronnie Black could be heard oohing and ahhing and generally acting like a two-man peanut gallery. They nearly crapped themselves when Nick froze the turret solid then shattered it with a charged blast from the Power Beam. Interestingly, each time it fired, Nick could clearly be seen manipulating the external controls on the cannon itself.

"We've never been able to get it to fire by itself," Jimmy said. "It only works when we tap the buttons. Now when I took it apart, I seen what look like sensors on the inside, so what I'm thinking is there's some kind of chip or implant inside the arm of the forearm that actually allows you to control the damn thing without having to use your free hand, am I right?"
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The creature had already let Nick up. Conversation ensued as he looked about the room. Granted, he was seeing through walls or inspecting objects for anything of relevance. When Jimmy started speaking of ice beam weapons, that's when Omega-Alpha started to hang on every word.

When the old arm cannon was put on display for the group, he took a keen interest. He could "see" that there was a minimal amount of power remaining in it's systems. And, yes, it looked as though it had been fired recently, but no new battle damage. All of the battle damage on it was old. Very old. This device was much older than his Mother's suit from the time when he was a hatchling.

"I can't tell you how it works," he said after Jimmy's explanation. He knew how it worked, but he felt compelled to keep it quiet. "I can tell you that the ice beam was never meant to be used as weapon. At least to start.

"A long time ago," he started, but lifted his head and looked over his shoulder back at Z'Gato with a puzzled look. "Sorry, but I think these are old memories passed down by my ancestors. That, and what the Torizo taught me.

"Anyway," he continued. "It never was designed to be a weapon. It only seems to be a weapon because of its power when used on many other living things. But, what if that living thing was so strong, that all the ice did was slow it down and make it docile?

"It was originally developed on my homeworld. You do the math from there.

"But, no." He looked over the arm cannon once more. "Those panels inside don't read implants."

An idea suddenly occurred to him. It took him long enough to register the concept of being hunted down despite the Truth being on their side. Samus Aran was on the shit list. No matter how right she was, no matter how much truth she had, the fact remained that she was on the run. The thought did not bode well with the monster.

'Monster do good things, live longer.' The mantra he lived by to keep himself in check may no longer apply after this mission.

"Chirr," he trilled low and irritably. "I think this man is right. Even if we do succeed, we still might fail. I don't want to end up like her. How can we beat that? Make the truth so widely known? Who would believe us? Ugh. I think this might be beyond me. Sorry.

"I wonder if there's anything in that old notebook that's relevant, though."

He doubted it, but there was nothing really to lose in asking.
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[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
When the Chozo Arm Cannon was revealed, the Chozo stepped forward and looked upon the device, his eyes wide with disbelief. He felt anger that some human possessed something like this, but at the same time, he could not directly blame Jimmy for this slight, despite how much as Z'Gato wanted to. The arm cannon looked incredibly old, and from what Z'Gato could remember of Chozo past, it was perhaps an older model. The armor Z'Gato wore was the latest style of Chozo armor, the most advanced the Chozo had ever developed. This one...while it looked very similar, Z'Gato's avian eyes could tell subtle differences: The bend and curve of the weapon was a little less refined, yet felt more like a piece of artwork. The capacitor was along the outside of the forearm, rather than nestled next to the elbow. The beam focuser was a little too far forward. Very subtle differences that, to humans, would mean almost nothing. But for Z'Gato, he realized he was looking at an old piece of history.

At that point, Z'Gato looked over at Omega as the Metroid began to speak, the Chozo keeping a guarded look on his face. He was relieved when Omega-Alpha did not reveal anything specific about the technology of the Chozo people, yet the words Jimmy said held some weight to them: His people were dead. What good would they do to anyone if they remained hidden. The immediate answer Z'Gato could give would be the honor the Chozo had gained in their prime, yet their height of honor and prestige was gone, killed off as his people were. Still, Z'Gato's temper was tested by the fact this human possessed such a relic, and the Chozo once again was tempted to make this human's entrails the newest decoration of this room. The idea was starting to sound more and more attractive with each passing moment.

Without thinking, Z'Gato lowered himself to one knee, taking a far closer look at the arm cannon. The battle damage it had looked old, even for Z'Gato's standards. Chozo were relatively long-lived compared to most humans, yet this weapon looked ancient. He knew everything about his own suit, how it worked, how to repair it, how to...pass it on if it needed a new user. However, something this old was beyond his knowledge. Finally, Z'Gato shook his head. "I do not know either. It is an older model, perhaps the first. Devices like these would normally be in museum or used by older veterans. Weapons such as these have long stories and tales of their exploits. Of course, that was when my people told stories about their warriors, weapons, and wargear before they spent their days meditating in groves," He said, looking at the weapon carefully. "I cannot identify what model it is nor how old it is. It could be very ancient indeed. Regardless, I do not believe this model operates similar to my own. Still, it appears to still be compatible with my armor, as the engineers of war were known for their incredible foresight."

Z'Gato stood back up and looked towards Jimmy then towards Travis. The situation was still delicate, and it appeared that Travis might still need more information from Jimmy. And yet...Z'Gato felt a bit more respect for Jimmy than he had before. At first, Z'Gato had felt nothing but contempt for the thief and defiler, as he did for most humans, but Jimmy understood what a weapon was and that it needed to be used for it to fulfill its purpose. He was far more sensible than the Great Elders of his race before their fall into ruination. "Perhaps when our errand against Delacroix is over, we will speak again of this. You have but to name your price for this relic."
Marching to the Black Gates...
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