Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]

If you're a returning member, no, your account has not been deleted, we've actually changed board since you were last here. just go ahead and register, PM one of the staff, let us know you're here, and we'll get right to work converting your information and post count from the old board.

Keep in mind that any RPs running on the old site are probably still there, so if you don't see them here, just check the 'Home' Page, and follow the link back to the old board.

Username:   Password:
locked Topic
After-Effect; Post-AC RP
Topic Started: Oct 24 2010, 10:41 AM (21,541 Views)
~The Boss~
Member Avatar
Native Son

Ten years ago

Jimmy watched silently as Delacroix showed him a series of videos on his computer, each one more disturbing than the last. Shot with a visorcam, they showed the horrifying results of genetic experiments conducted by the Zebesians and recently discovered by the Federation.

"According to the data, most of these subjects were volunteers," said a female voice that had been providing commentary throughout. The camera panned over a group of stasis tanks that contained the grotesque, deformed remains of those had hadn't made it through the process. Only a few were recognizable as having once been Zebesian. "Those that weren't appear to have been sent here as a result of disciplinary action. Somehow, I find that less unsettling than those who willingly signed up for this."

Behind him, Delacroix paced calmly around Jimmy's study. Grace had not yet shot him in the knee, so he had no need of a cane, although judging from his fashion sense he might have readily adopted one had someone suggested it. Today it was a purple suit, with a pink shirt and a checkered tie in the same color pattern. Most people might be forgiven for assuming that anyone dressed like that was involved with something illegal. In their line of work, however, the guy dressed most outrageously was often the narc. Delacroix wasn't a narc, exactly. But he was most definitely a spook.

Oh yeah, there was that.

At first, Jimmy had always assumed that Delacroix was merely another of his father's clients. A garishly dressed and enigmatic client, but no different than any of the other criminals that his father did business with. Then after the elder Vega went to prison and Jimmy was left in charge, Delacroix dropped the bomb on him. He was Section 6. And he was about to recruit Jimmy.

To hear Delacroix tell it, Marcus had been one of the agency's most important assets for years. Together, the two of them had pulled dozens of jobs that blurred the line between black ops and straight up criminality. One of their longest running - and most profitable - schemes was smuggling arms to insurgent groups fighting the Kriken Empire. They broke over two dozen Federation laws - including committing three outright murders - violated at least two interstellar treaties, and weren't always sure if the people they were smuggling weapons to were necessarily the Good Guys. But as long as the Kriken were focused on not getting blown up while attempting to exterminate everyone and everything within their borders, they weren't attacking the Federation.

That was Delacroix's game. He built a criminal empire dedicated to carrying out the work of the intelligence community. It wasn't always pretty, but in his view it was the necessary business of fighting the enemy.

More than once, Marcus Vega had ordered a hit, and Nick Scanlan or later Grace would dutifully comply. Or he needed some goods delivered to an important client without the authorities getting wise, and he could only trust his son or Ronnie Black to do it. None of them ever suspected they were actually on a secret government mission.

And now it was Jimmy's turn to do his part. Delacroix would come to him when he needed a job done, and in return he'd profit handsomely and the government would overlook his and his father's business dealings with the Zebesian Pirates. Today, he was getting his first assignment.

The next video showed a larger tank with a far different monstrosity: a massive creature that Jimmy guessed to be about nine feet tall, built like a Space Pirate version of the Incredible Hulk. Unlike the others, this one didn't look particularly deformed despite obviously having been heavily mutated. And then there were the weapons that looked to have been grafted onto its body.

Then without warning, the creature's eyes suddenly opened and the glass shattered with explosive force, knocking the camerawoman back.

"Still think they're just a merry band of brigands?" Delacroix asked as the video continued to play and the camerawoman battled the creature.

"Where'd you get this?" Jimmy asked.

"This was all shot on a backwater called Tallon IV, by a bounty hunter working for the government. Her personal biases notwithstanding, she has extensive experience with the Pirates."

Jimmy didn't respond, transfixed as he was by the behemoth. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill super soldier project, shoot up someone with a bunch of steroids and whatever other serums you can mix together without killing them. No, this was Frankenstein territory here. This was an abomination in every sense of the word.

"These are dangerous people, Jimmy," Delacroix said. "They've been planning something big for some time now."

"The guys I've dealt with are just raiders," Jimmy retorted. "Captains looking out for their own crew, raiding for profit. I've never dealt with High Command."

"And you don't think that some of the weapons and money you've provided to these individual captains haven't made their way back to High Command? Don't be so naive, Jimmy. They do what they do because the leadership allows it."

"So what do you want from me?"

The woman in the video started speaking again, drawing his attention back to the screen. The creature lay dead at her feet, and she had started rattling off a bunch of numbers and figures that only she could see. She was completely out of breath, and a few times winced in pain.

"...levels of radiation completely off the charts," she said, backing away from the creature somewhat. "Even the relatively small amounts of phazon used in the infusion process are incredibly potent."

Delacroix grinned. "That's what I want," he said. "Phazon. I want you to talk to your Pirate friends and get some for me. Doesn't have to be much. If all you can get is a vial, then I'll take a vial. But I want it. And you're going to get it for me."

"And how do I know you aren't planning on creating a mutant monster of your own?"

"Oh come now, Jimmy, we're both good Catholics. We know better than to try and play God. Besides, even if we wanted to, we're years away from reaching that point. Apart from these videos and the files our girl downloaded, we barely even know what phazon is, let alone how to work with it.

"But if this is the new reality," Delacroix continued, "if our boys are going to be fighting creatures like this, and we're gonna be sending them into places where the Pirates are working with phazon and probably storing it... then we damn sure better understand what it is and how it works."

Jimmy only nodded in response. He didn't like what he was hearing. But he also had little choice, unless he wanted to join his dad in prison.

"So we have a deal?" Delacroix asked.

"Yeah, we have a deal."
Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~Alissa~
Member Avatar


((Holy massive post batman! huge post with a JP between Cemp and I in the middle.....enjoy!))

Day 1:
Alissa made the rest of the trip on a commercial transport; she could not arrive at the base on any of their ships after all. And if anyone did any checking it would be useful to see her getting on the transport. However after 36 hours in coach Alissa found she was very nearly ready to break the knees of the person sitting behind her (which they kept pushing into the back of her seat). Indeed the need to focus on the personality of the person she was supposed to be eroded a good portion of her characteristic control. Mercifully however the flight ended and she was picked up at the mining town and driven toward the facility.

“So Lieutenant Simmons is it? What brings you to our little corner of the universe?”

“Alissa was quiet a moment in the back seat, the driver was a corporal, a little too familiar in her mind, and she knew that questions were dangerous for people like the driver”

“Operations upgrade” which was the boring cover for what the real Margaret Simmons was supposed to be doing at project Vertigo Alissa had been rather surprised at the quality of this cover, a security audit and upgrade meant she would have access to the whole facility, and it was unlikely anyone would question anything she did.

Alissa arrived at the facility and at the entrance scanned her card through the reader, it didn’t work of course. It was real but contained the wrong information, this was on purpose.

“Mamm please scan it again” the machine Buzzed again “one more time” BZZZ

A sigh from the man operating the machine “looks like they never got you added to the system, you will have to go to security before you do anything else; down that hall third door on the left, they will get you sorted.

Moments later the security admin ran the card through their terminal

***Virus deployed*** announced the computer on the black bird

Day 2:
After a brief meeting with department heads explaining in as little detail as she could get away with what she would be doing and where they would be seeing her Lt. Simmons started her work with the main computer core. On the surface she appears to be reviewing logs and then making a few software upgrades for the sake of security. In reality the second part of the virus was deployed on the system, and several small charges were placed, once they had the information they needed Alissa intended to make it impossible to recover any data from these systems.

Day 3.

"Simmons I need you to go down to the proving range, they have lost monitoring and the science team wants to monitor Armoria's progress" came the order from the officer in charge of the system

"That is not..." Alissa was cut off

"I don't care, I don't have any techs free and someone thinks it has something to do with the security upgrade. You may not report to me but that is an order"

"Alissa nodded and turned to leave picking up her tool back " yes sir"

Fifteen minutes later Alissa was in the proving grounds working on the systems trying to figure out what was wrong, her computer feeding her information. She looked quite component, and really the ability to sabotage without being detected required an engineer level of understanding of technology to begin with.

Every day and every session for Armoria was an opportunity to flex every eager muscle in her body. She wanted to - no, she had to. She couldn't simply stand idle, certainly not for less than an hour, or half of one at that; she needed something...physical to do. Almost always; at least when she wasn't sleeping, and to be sure, it did take some doing on her end to feel fatigue. And oh boy did it ironically feel nice when it actually hit her.

Fact was, sitting idle not only made her feel like she would literally explode, but it felt...unproductive. For her, at least. The proving grounds was no different; in fact, it was better. Because she got actual scenario's and orders; even if it wasn't real, it gave her a feeling of both purpose and direction, and a means to gauge herself as well. To refine and hone herself, like a blade, for the real fight to come. For the idea of battle had been bred into her since since birth, and she knew nothing else better to do.

Which was why she was irritated by the emergencies orders to abruptly stop, and await for the technician to repair the sensor issue within the holographic room. Strangely, though, she wasn't told to leave, like some of the other times in the past, when someone else had to come in – then again, aside from the first incident after her infusion, she had shown such good control over herself that the people felt confident in being near her.

When 'Simmons' entered the room, she was greeted by a soldier in a vaguely familiar blue and white armor, and a vaguely familiar face. Except her hair was cut short, her right band of hair was cerulean as was her glimmering irises. Holding a stoic expression, she locked eyes with Simmons, and her brows furrowed immediately. “You're...different from the others,” she spoke more curiously than suspiciously, “why?

Alissa looked up from her work and toward Armoria and blinked a moment, there was no surprise written on her face as conditioning and training kept her well within the role she was playing. But the similarities were striking to say the least. That they had cloned Jenosa had always been a possibility, but to have one this far along was impressive. There seemed to be something more to the Vertigo subject, something Alissa could not quite put her finger on, and really didn’t have time to figure out.

And then Maggie Simmons took over, she looked quizzically at the owner of the question “Different?.....how?” she looked down at herself, the uniform a moment then back up “ooohhhh the patch right?” she turned showing a shoulder patch that denoted the unit she was attached too “I’m here for an operations audit and upgrade” she said with a shrug “ I’m kind of a floater I guess, moving from one base to the next”

She turned back to her work and continued what she was doing “technically I’m not supposed to be doing this work in the first place, not my job you know” as she talked she worked, scanning, reconnecting, replacing “ but an order is an order I guess, and I don’t want to make waves, makes it harder for the next specialist who has to come after me if people think we are a pain”

Maggie was a talker, it was right there in her psych evaluation, likely due to the impossibility of making friends in her current assignment. “I mean it’s rough enough for us floating around the fleet, one station to the next, never more than a week or two” she closed the panel she was working behind and moved to the next beginning to work “add to that any system at all that breaks during or just after my visit gets blamed on me….like this…the sensors cut out and they send me down because they think I brought them down” she made a derisive sound and continue “ I haven’t even started my work on this system, not even a diagnostic! But never mind that, it’s all Simmons’ fault, better interrupt what she’s doing and send her down to chase a corroded contact” she closed the next panel and began to put her tools away “ oh well, saves me from having to come back later”

Out of what looked as an impatient, almost subconscious habit, Armoria did something surprising. In an environment that realistically simulated a real-world battle field with photons and force fields, she nonchantantly gripped a battered, steel rod the thickness of a fist, and snapped it off like a twig from it's broken concrete base. And she had done this as though it were no more than a simple feet, and while Simmon's talked, she twirled it in hand like it were nothing no more than a mere toy. All the while doing this, she studied, more than listened - most of her talk went right over her head - Simmon intensly, as if trying to make out a completely impercaptable detail.

Truth is, she was.

"No, it's not your uniform," she stated finally, "it's - she searched for the word in her still growing mind - your...aura."

It was still an odd, it not new, experiance for her. For most of her life, her eyes were plain like anyone elses. Yet after the infusions, her sight had began to...change subtly. The scientists wondered if it had something to do with how her irises had changed, allow her to see a different spectrum. Irregardless of how or why, Armoria felt she was seeing the 'life' that was beating in them.

"Everyone else here has a...yellow or orange aura," she went on, "But yous...yours is brighter and...a mix between green and blue."

This clone of Jenosa was still talking, still paying attention, and had seen something in Alissa that made her stand apart in the subject’s mind.

“Aura? You believe in that stuff?” came her response; internally she knew what Armoria was seeing. Jenosa had described a similar thing to her once. Something about their biology allowed them to see the nanite swarm in her body, which was otherwise undetectable to even medical scans. In the case of Jenosa, Alissa trusted her not to tell anyone, but this clone of her friend….she did not trust.

“my sister believes in that stuff, always going on about how “blue” I look, whatever that means. I’m a pretty happy person I think, I mean its hard to make friends in this assignment. But I enjoy what I do, its challenging you know? But still I guess its rough never really getting to know people. Maybe that’s why I talk so much. My commander says I talk too much, but he’s not the one out here all the time.

Armoria narrowed her eyes at the tech in mild confusion. "Believe?" she spoke, obviously trying to make sense of the word itself, and what kind of context it meant. Her obvious lack of vocabulary was starting to show, but her memory was enough to recall a few heated conversations between scientists. One said she might be just seeing things, a possible hallucinogen of Phazon infusion, but another strongly argued it was a result of her own physiology; that what she seeing was real, just difficult to prove. In all honesty, most of the conversation had escaped her, like most had, but the gist was there.

After a moment of thought, she grunted in disagreement, "I don't 'believe', I see." In the end, she didn't care of what others thought about her sight, even if ordered to; it was there, and it felt tangible, especially when she directly look at a person; almost impossible to ignore, really.

And, internally, for some reason, it bothered her that this tech was so...foreign from everyone else she had come across.

Still, there were no orders concerning this kind of person, and more importantly, her current orders were still on 'hold.' “Are you done yet,” she asked, with an irate, furrowed brow, “or are you just going to keep blabbering about?”

Her mental dictionary may not have grown much, but her attitude sure had.

Alissa looked toward Armoria a moment raising an eyebrow; not that she really cared if this experiment copped an attitude with her but Maggie Simmons would. So far as she knew this was just a soldier who had grown a little too big for their britches.

“Control, I’m done down here, please confirm the feed is live”

She had a finger pressed to her ear and waited for the radio to respond

“yes…..a corroded controller….yes….whoever is in charge of this system should be cited”

She turned to face Armoria again and nodded “all finished, the room is yours, I’ll inform your CO” and with that she left the room quietly whistling to herself.

"Good," she replied, satisfied. As Simmons left, she deftly bent the rod and then twisted it apart to in order to snap it half. Holding and twirling a piece in each hand like they were clubs, she stood with combat ready eagerness to restart her session. And even though she could fire killer bolts of energy - and she usually did when necessary - she found herself rather fond of close quarters.

Day. 4

After her brush with the focus of the facility Alissa worked to be sure their paths would not cross again. However unlikely if there was a big push to figure out why she was “different” her cover was blown beyond recovery and there was little she could do about it. On the 4th day Alissa planted controllers in the security system that would allow them to patch into communications, bring video feeds off line, reset doors, and generally disrupt their ability to deal with the fake attack. Even going so far as to place a device in the armory that would fuse the doors with the surrounding wall, it would take a cutting torch to get past the doors at that point.

Day. 5

The last day Alissa finished up the last few details, confirmed that she had not been detected in her work. Her last stop was the facility side of the “back door” she entered the area under the guise of a software upgrade for the turret. Making small talk with the guards stationed at that post. She also hid a small device under the console that would be useful later when she returned.

Day. 6

At 0100 Alissa had hidden in a closet not far from the end of the secret tram, inside she activated the nanites in the uniform she was wearing, the suit changed from the federation uniform so a more form fitting black suit, thicker plates formed over her torso but most of her armor was coming down in the case with the rest of the team. She pulled a hood over her head hiding her hair and a mask covered her nose and mouth, a pair of goggles went on after that completing the look. Anyone who knew what they were looking at would see a Coalition operative. She strapped a wrist mounted computer on and looked at the time a moment before securing the weapons she had, such as they were, two stun batons one secured to each leg, and a long knife which she did not intend to use
0129…just before all hell was about to break loose in their systems one of the techs noticed something odd

“What the?…..hey are you seeing this, every node just spiked to 100%”

Then the lights went out, Alissa moved through the hall and pressed a small button on the wrist computer, inside the room with the two guards the device activated releasing a gas, Alissa crouched in the dark and waited for two thuds before entering the room, she disarmed the men and tied them up in a corner then stood waiting for the rest of the team. Alarms would be sounding soon, when the power came up they would see objects streaking in from orbit, and the attack would be underway.
Online Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~Deadly Aim~
Member Avatar
Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Subject: Beta Leonis

Day Length: Approximately 24 hours.

Classification: Terraformed Moon in the Alpha Leonis system, the larger of two moons to gas giant Alpha Leonis.

Population: Approximately 27,818 at last count.

Brief History: Terraforming of this moon began approximately 90 years ago, with atmosphere construction completed 50 years ago and first tertiary lifeforms settled 40 years ago. Seen as a potential population center for humanoids and rich is various minerals and fuels, Beta Leonis has been the dawn of a growing mining settlement in the Alpha Leonis system. There are at least three large settlements on the moon's surface,
all settled near terraformed rivers or lakes. The largest of which, Leo's Bluff, has a population of 9,753. The smallest of all the moon's settlements, Whitefall, is a mining town with only 638 people.

-------

Astrocast Feed, Alpha Leonis sytem:

Greetings, citizens of Beta Leonis! Enjoying that spring season down there on the surface? Well, I hope you do, because you'll be enjoying it for another three years! Say, did you know that there's a chance for a beautiful meteor tonight? Keep an eye out for it folks! You might just get a the chance to see something amazing with the kids, even way out here!

Oh, but it will be at 1 o'clock this morning, followed by early morning rain with a chance of thunderstorms, so make sure you're willing or able to stay up to that hour, folks!

-------

12:40 AM, BLT

["The operation is live. Initiate final role call and prepare to drop."]

From within their respective vessels, the infiltration team of various characters had all nervously awaited that directive from Travis. For the last five days, they could do little more than sit at the edge of the system and wait for Alissa's signal. The day before, he had devised their entry, a covert atmospheric insertion by hitching a ride as part of a meteor shower. Even if the wasn't out out everywhere else, nobody was going to suspect a few more lights in the sky that night. Why would they? People would be too caught up in the fact that there was a fantastic display among the stars to notice any individual descent.

It had been a long, nerve-wracking week for everybody. Having nothing to do other than prepare, train, strategize and wait, this was a strangely cathartic moment for the entire crew.

"Okay, here's the plan just to review. We're heading thirty two miles north of the base, nearby to Tennessee Jack's place. Turns out this guy lives a slight ways outside of even this backwater town; his bar is the local watering hole, as the saying goes, so first we need to make sure the civilians are out of the way. Once we land, I'll disable the power line leading to the bar: nobody is going to question a blown wire." Travis nodded down at the Fenris currently in his lap, screwing something onto the tip of the barrel; a silencer or flash suppressor perhaps.

"After that, we go in, secure the perimeter, and hopefully Jack understands that his patriotism is being taken advantage of. I'm hoping that none of Delacroix's goons are there, because then it may get complicated. Regardless, having read what I can about him, hopefully Jack will at least listen to us. He might yield if I let him know this is being done with the blessing of Chairman Keeton.

"At approximately 1:20, we'll board the tram, activate it, and meet Alissa on the other side.

"Any questions?"
Posted Image
Online Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
+CEMP+
Member Avatar
Clockwork Master

5 days.

5 days that, compared to the weeks spent getting here, might as well have been an eternity for Jenosa. She had actually blurted out to Alissa why it had to be 5 - not two or three - but interrupted here mid explanation; she decided not to have a spiel on boring technicalities to trust Alissa's judgment on this mission. She was, after all, the infiltrator expert here, not her.

Still, waiting for the time to strike, with almost no way of knowing if Alissa had been found out or not, was torture for her. She had become a very close friend after all; not just from having fought side-by-side with one another, but from the way they shared each others ongoing experience’s. Such as if they were trekking into dangerous territory, sometimes Alissa would make more than just a stoic expression in reaction Jenosa's adventurous, social banter; and occasionally, they would both relish small victory or close scrape together with a wry smile. It was funny to note that, despite her current, outward demeanor, Alissa seemed more...alive inside than she had since they met.

Oh, sure, she had talked and chat with all sorts of people about her life as a professional hunter - well, excluding anything confidential of course - but to find someone who enjoyed their freedom much in the same way she did was, well, rare.

To make matters worse for her wait, they were decisively stuck squatting in the middle of nowhere. Jenosa had gotten very used to a rather nomadic lifestyle, usually rooming about and never staying in one place too long. Unless she was actively doing a job or enjoying herself, chances are she'd go bonkers if she stayed in one place for too long.

She did whatever she could to keep her sanity through out the hours, though there wasn't much else to do on Alissa's ship aside from exercise, occasional chat with others and, funny enough, the ship's A.I. She had to admit, it proved to be a better conversationalist than her original Magellan A.I., which was saying lot. Magellan was mainly a quarry and information A.I. without an inkling of social interaction; at least Alissa's could, once in a while, hold an...interesting conversation.

Actually, to be fair, the way it talked with such self-awareness was kind of creepy to her. Not HAL creepy - lord knows how she ended up seeing A Space Odyssey - but it was close. And the thought of being stuck with an potentially homicidal A.I. was not a comforting one.

On about the third day, to take her mind off her worries, she decided to flicker through a personal image data base that she had Alissa curiously pick up for her. Displayed on one of the ship's monitors was a cheerful picture of a joyous, young girl's face sided by her biological parents. She looked be around 5 or 6 years old, with green eyes, long red hair and light dash of freckles on her cheeks.

And there was such mischievous innocence in her smile.

Ahhhh, how she had changed so much since then. She had matured into strong and acrobatic, combat savvy woman, with her freckles nearly faded and her hair in free fall growth.

She flicked through the snapshots of her youth, becoming gradually older with each one she past, reliving bits of her childhood. Her school life, social life and hobbies. Eventually she stopped at a picture she felt a certain amount of pride for taking with her smart cam, right at the heat of the moment. Standing alone, impressively, within the surroundings of an exotic forest was Jenosa as a full fledged adult bounty hunter. She was, except for head, decked out in a special, light armored bio-suit not unlike the current one she wore; but lacking the high-tech appearance of the bright cyan lines while appearing more battle worthy.

She was also decked out from head to toe scratches, cuts and a few burns; a telltale sigh she had through one heck of a fight. Yet she stood there with her trademark triumphant, wry smile and unfurled bands of hair. It had been one of her first few outings, and she had taken it to show her parents that their precious daughter had not only obtained a hard-won, expensive XLR combat suit; but that she was also competent enough to survive a trip through the voracious forests of Zeelanaugh.

She wanted her them to be proud of her accomplishments, but of course, it was never quite enough to win their full vote of confidence. Even in the group picture she had taken after that, with one having Jenosa wearing the same armor and her parents embraced shoulder-to-shoulder on each side, their prideful faces held a lingering uncertainty about their daughter's chosen profession. It had been always questionable to them.

Now, after passing so many of the dangers she told them not to worry about, she thought she understood their real concerns.

As she stood up and looked through the Blackbird's cockpit, into space, she sighed wistfully. She missed home. Her actual home. And she missed the old days where none of her life was so conspiracy ridden; just hop around, do a clean (However clean it could be), confidential contract, get her pay and be on her merry way. Regretfully, she felt there was no going to back that old way life now.

On the other hand, she had no idea what she would do after this whole affair was done, which, ironicly, was actually a scary prospect in itself for her.

In way, she mused before leaving the cockpit, this will be a tipping point in her life.

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


Still, she wouldn't let the climax of anxiety dampen her spirits, for as they hailed down through the sky, she responded to Travis's question. "Sure. You think Tennessee Jack will still willing to let me having coconut rum after all this is said and done? I'm dying for a drink," she added.

(OOC: A reference to the LXR suit's looks can be found HERE. Also, that picture was a source of inspiration for this post.)
"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
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~DarkKnightCuron~
Member Avatar
Starfeather
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The restlessness of Travis and Jenosa was, to be perfectly blunt, annoying. He never really understood the human mentality to go from one place to the next like traveling birds, always wanting to go where the path of least resistance was, just like the primitive species they had evolved from. Indeed, while Jenosa was apparently tearing her hair out with anticipation and Travis was more or less brooding over the upcoming mission, the lone Chozo of their group had taken the time to meditate within his own ship, only the hum of engines and life support accompanying him. Even then, however, these noises soon faded away in his moment of self-centered thought, his consciousness escaping into the inner depths of his psyche.

To be fair, he had never been overly religious, and until his time spent with a particular Metroid queen, he had not been overly interested in just sitting around with his eyes closed and just waiting. But now that everything had changed, everything about himself had somehow been… lifted, it was almost a blessing to take a moment out of the galaxy, a single point in time where nothing mattered, nothing needed explaining, nothing needed killing, to merely pause and find some solace within. Strangely enough, when he meditated for the first time, he was not sure what one was supposed to do. Some said that controlling your breathing and heart rate was enough, others said that reflection upon the last few weeks would be enough, while others said that the vision would come to you if you looked hard enough. Philosophical things, religious things, all that kind of thing that had never interested him when he was young and arrogant, never interested him when he was banished and angry.

To do so now felt almost foreign to him, yet at the same time, it felt like something his soul had been needing since he last put talons upon Zebes. And that… was a very long time ago. Not as long as others who had been wandering the galaxy for their entire lives looking for a new home, only to find it in bulkheads of their ship or in the company of their peers, but for him, where he measured time and moments by the report of his cannon, by the gallons of blood he shed, it felt so exhaustingly long ago that it almost seemed like ancient history at that point. Chozo were long lived, exceptionally so, but even Z’Gato felt like his bones wither away when he tried to think upon his last moments amongst his own kind.

Back then, he did not realize his journey to descent, did not ever notice the path he had taken until he had reached the end of it. Only now, meditating as he was, did he truly understand why the course he took befell him, why he was banished, why he was denied peace. In a way, it was like seeing someone else play out the role you were supposed to, making every single bad decision known to sentient kind. And yet, he knew those crimes were his. As weightless as he felt now, he knew at least one shackle still remained upon him, a bond of destiny that no redemption could forgive, no manner of trial could absolve. His single, most defining moment was also his worst, forging a tether to his doom that no force in the galaxy could break.

So be it. If he was to die for his betrayal, then he would do so with honor. He had changed, albeit slowly and painfully, throughout the last few months. Each step towards where he was now had been resisted, laced with pain and suffering the likes of which no mere person could ever hope to withstand. Like teaching a disloyal puppy, his path to change was paved with pain. Never-ending amounts of it.

Only in this small moment in time could he reflect and be at peace. If it was his fate to die, even alone, he would do so in a way at least befitting his race. Perhaps, in a way, that was his prayer, despite never being religious as the rest of his kind was. Perhaps that was his way of either asking for deliverance in the coming days—or, perhaps, his way of saying thanks for the progress he had already made. Religion was confusing. Even now, however, he still clung on to one simple fact.

Religion was enigmatic. Violence was crystal clear. Perhaps coming to that realization was his own way of saying that he knew no other skill, no other way of life. He had made himself into a butcher of lives for the sake of his own personal glory and power. How could one repent from such murder?

The answer was, once again, clear. There was no repentance. There was only continuing. The violence would continue, but the manner different. The methods different. The attitude different. He could not change what he was, a warrior, but that did not mean that he could stay a murderer forever. Defender perhaps.

But not today. A change like that would come later. Now, above all else, his allies—friends, as strange as the word was now—needed him to be exactly what he was. They expected it of him, planned for it. To change himself now, before the eve of a mission like this, would be nothing short of idiotic.

When the meditation ended, the preparations began. Power Bombs had to be primed and loaded into the armor. Missiles and Super Missiles needed to be prepared for combat, his cannon’s capacitors changed out for fresh ones, his various energy barriers needing replaced. Cleansing the spirit meant nothing if one did not cleanse his wargear, the one, true companion he had throughout the years. ‘Look to your wargear for answers,’ he had been told by his instructors. ‘They will show you the way.’ Tasks that normally were quick and efficient months ago were now arduous tasks, taking on a more reverent, ritualized process. It was not that he was overly religious or superstitious, but rather, his reverence for what the armor meant was much more now than what the armor was. A year ago, he had seen his armor and weapons as tools. Now, they were a symbol. The last legacy of his dying race. Not scripters, not art, not books, not songs. The one legacy that the Chozo had always had, from the time they expanded into the universe and conquered all that they cared to—the earliest years of Chozo dominance in the galaxy—to their final carrion call; Their armor. Their wargear.

It is said that Chozo that dedicate their lives to war and combat master much in their years. Books and theory, games and challenges, were what comprised of their time and days, especially towards their latter years. To some, the pursuit of mastery over all things involving conflict were paramount, delving into words and writings of those who likely thought more than fought. In a way, this allowed them to think on each battle, carefully gauge the situation, and plan for complete victory. Z’Gato had never been one for immense study or lectures. He wanted to be strong, to be powerful, and there was no better way than to fight again and again and again.

Once again, every lesson Z’Gato learned had been taught through pain of body and mind.

Preparations were soon fulfilled, preoccupying much of Z’Gato’s time for the five days they were required to wait while Alissa did her job as the stealth expert. Whatever she was doing, he was at least confident that she would perform well. He did not fully trust her, yet some how, deep in his gut, he had a feeling she would not betray them here and now. She had had plenty of chances to do so before hand.

Eventually, a call from Travis’ ship was received, just as Z’Gato finished donning his armor. The brilliance of the suit was, obviously, quite splendid with the Phazon armor enhancements activated, along with all the other upgrades that Z’Gato had procured over the years. His head, however, remained free of his helmet, not yet donning that piece until it was time to lay siege to the enemy. The plan was simple enough, gain control of the facility that Jack owned, or at least convincing him to allow them access. Once there, they would take the tram into the facility and meet Alissa on the other side.

At that particular moment, Jenosa spoke up about having a Coconut rum at Jack’s place, causing Z’Gato to roll his eyes. Her attempts at lightening the mood were childish at best. He remained silent for a moment before nodding his head to Travis. “I understand. Any resistance we meet will be dealt with swiftly,” The Chozo said, obviously in reference to his rather deadly arsenal of weaponry and abilities. “If nothing else, I can cause enough collateral damage.”
Marching to the Black Gates...
Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~Deadly Aim~
Member Avatar
Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Travis smirked a bit at Jenosa's remark before nodding to Z'gato. Having yet to don his own helmet, Travis' eyes narrowed for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the intense ambience of the Phazon armor before meeting the chozo's gaze. Hopefully, Z'gato could control the glow.

"I have no doubt of that, considering the two of us have fought alongside each other multiple times," Travis grinned.

"Alright, if everyone is present and accounted for... get tactical, we'll be entering Beta Leonis' atmosphere in five minutes.

"Constantine, I assume you still can't pick up anything from the base's given location?"

["Indeed, I cannot; it's as one would expect of a government facility like this, undetectable without giving away our own position. I am reading the transponders set by Alissa, however. Also, Captain B'nu Mataan of the 5th Fleet has informed me that he'll be ready to jump into the system as soon as we've secured Jenkins and his conspirators; currently they're holding position in a nearby system and maintaining a low profile."]

"Good... the Chairman got my message then." Travis nodded, reaching at last for his helmet. The Fenris had been magnetically attached to the back of his armor now, a piece that was clearly it's customized silencer visible on the end of the barrel. He had also stuck a few clips of ammo into the pouches along his suit's waist, along with a few other essentials before doing one final check of his suit's armaments. Satisfied, Travis reached for the suit's helmet and placed it onto his head, the armor hissing and giving off a click as the filtration systems activated and the helm was securely locked onto his head.

"Alright, three minutes to atmospheric entry, to the Arctic Storm."

----------

12:55, BLT
Just outside Whitefall, Beta Leonis


"Dang, sure is pretty tonight..."

It was happy hour at Tennessee Jack's.

Outside on the back porch balcony, patrons had gathered with bites and booze to watch the highly anticipated meteor shower expected that night. Of course, most were simply in the bar seeing what bits of booze and food Jack and his boys were serving up that night.

And then, there was a streak of light.

"Oh hey, it's startin'!"

--------

The next ten minutes was the agonizingly slow and dark descent of the Arctic Storm onto the moon's surface. All they could do at this point was trust that the meteor shower had completely fooled Jenkins' men of their arrival. There was complete silence within the gunship as it descended at a snail's pace of its normal velocity, using the meteor shower to camouflage their movement before reaching about 5,000 feet. From there, Travis activated the visual cloak and proceeded to touch the ship down outside their destination.

In the distance from within the dark woods, the hunters could see and hear the makings of a rowdy, alcohol-induced night, along with what was clearly the familiar twang of a country guitar. Patrons out on the back deck cheered rowdily at the meteor shower.

For a moment, Travis let out a sigh as he gazed over the crowd from the scope of the Fenris, as if somehow displeased. It was difficult to read his expression through the visor, however.

"Alright, everyone keep a low profile and stay on me. Remember, we wait for the civilians to leave before we move in; these people have nothing to do with this."

Using hand signals and silence, the group slinked up a nearby hill in the night before Travis signalled to hold position.

"Alright... here we go. Time is... 1:10 AM. Should give us enough time to get on board the tram and meet Alissa. But first..."

Travis aimed through the scope of his firearm, searching the horizon for anything resembling a power cable. With one quick examination of the scene to assure they wouldn't be spotted, he aimed, and squeezed the trigger at the cable.

===========

"The hell?"

Suddenly, the entire area around Tennessee Jack's bar went dark with a pop. And if there was no power... no drinks.

The crowd of drunk and sleepy miners begrudgingly began to file out of the bar, annoyed. Of all times, NOW there was a blown power line?
Posted Image
Online Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~The Boss~
Member Avatar
Native Son

Prison life was all about routine, as the fella' once said. A good routine helped take one's mind off their circumstances. It preserved one's sanity in an insane place. So when they came to interrupt Grace's routine, she was not pleased. Even when they told her it was because she had a visitor.

"Hey there, sexy!" Nick Scanlan bellowed as they led her into the visiting room. It was a playful jab at her looks, mostly her hair, which was starting to grow back by now and actually didn't look too bad, but he missed those long black Pocahontas locks. She also looked very gaunt, although to be fair it wasn't like there had been a whole lot of weight for her to lose anyway. And he half expected to see some new tattoos on her face or neck. Despite all that, she still had that same fire in her eyes.

"Oh God," she grumbled. "Someone finally comes to visit me and it's the guy responsible for me being here in the first place."

"Now why you gotta go blaming me for that whole adventure?"

"Uh, gee, I dunno, maybe it's cause you came to me and said, 'Hey Grace, got a job for ya!'" she said, mocking his Texas drawl. "'Ain't like you got nothin' better to do than sit around gettin' baked all day!'"

"DId I really say that?"

"Yeah, you did. And I shoulda just stayed home and gotten baked." She gave him a harsh glare for a few seconds, then hugged him tight. "So what's Jimmy's excuse?"

"Would you believe very important business to attend to?"

"Absolutely not," she said with a grin, taking a seat at the table. "So, blonde, brunette, or redhead?"

"Well... brunette I guess. Short hair, Cajun accent, flashy dresser, bit on the manly side..."

"Delacroix," Grace muttered with as much venom as she had the energy to summon. "I think I'd prefer the blonde or the redhead."

"Well, who's to say he ain't meetin' with them too?" They both laughed uncomfortably. Jimmy's lack of faithfulness to Grace had become something of a running joke, and she might have gotten more laughs out of it than anyone. And while she wasn't exactly okay with the situation, she had come to accept it as Jimmy being Jimmy. "But, he sends his regards."

Nick reached into his pocket and handed Grace a small recording device about the size of a cigarette lighter.

"Seriously? That's the best he can do? A little cheapass recorded message?"

"It ain't just a message. It's instructions. You know, for a job."

"He does know I'm still in prison, right?"

"Aww, c'mon now, you ain't gon' let a little thing like that stop you, are you?"

"Never," Grace said, her smirk getting even bigger.

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

Late on the fifth day, just a few hours short of Day Six, Alissa had been making her rounds, finishing up her work and trying to stay away from any scrutiny. But coming down the hall directly towards her was a trio of men who could very much complicate matters. Two of them were easily recognizable: a Marine officer with a colonel's insignia and a name tag that read "Jenkins," and a man walking with a cane dressed in a very tasteful bright yellow suit. But it was the third man, carrying a large case, whose presence was most troubling.

He looked very different from the man that the bounty hunters had met in the penthouse. Gone was the scruffy guy with the tattoos who looked like he'd been subsisting entirely on drugs and alcohol. This man was clean shaven, wearing a sharp black suit and alligator boots, with a look in his eyes that suggested a shark on the hunt.

In other words, he looked like Jimmy Vega was supposed to have looked.

The tension was palpable with each step closer they came. And no doors or hallways between them that she could quickly and nonchalantly duck into. Mercifully, Delacroix made no reaction to what was as far as he concerned just another random junior officer, and Jenkins only nodded in greeting. "Lieutenant," he said.

But then Jimmy saw her. Made eye contact with her. He said nothing, and his expression didn't change, but he locked eyes on her. As she walked past, he turned back to keep looking, and kept on looking as she disappeared down the hall. By now, his two companions had noticed him looking at her.

"You always did have a wandering eye," Delacroix said with a smirk as they waited for the elevator.

"No I uh... I think I know her." Jimmy was still looking back at Simmons, trying to get a look at her face.

"See, when you say it that way, it doesn't exactly help your case."

Jimmy was about to respond, but held his tongue. The doors dinged and slid open, and the three men walked inside, each one with a big grin on his face. Delacroix because he knew Jimmy far too well, and Jenkins because there was a man like that on every military base in the galaxy. Probably every civilian, office too.

And Jimmy... Jimmy grinned because he was far more clever than people gave him credit for.

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

Tennessee Jack's was an old bar, and most certainly a dive, but it was by no means run down. Even the most upper-crust clientele would have to admit that there was a certain backwater charm to the place. From the POW-MIA flag hanging above the bar to the old photos of Jack's hometown of Memphis, it was the perfect watering hole for this little mining town.

Inside, the usual crowd was here. The "Iron Men" who worked in the mines to the north and the west of town, the "Golden Boys" and the "Copperheads" up from the south, desk monkeys from the company offices in town and even the fisherman from the bay. There were also the bush pilots who liked to come in whenever they were in town. And of course, there were the guys who everyone in town thought were mercs, yet mysteriously never seemed to take any jobs. They just hung out at Jack's all day.

And then there was the guy from out of town sitting up at the bar. His accent said he was from New York City, and anyone watching him would think he was on a mission to empty every bottle in the house.

"Hey Jack," Ronnie Black called out to the bartender, pointing to his glass that only had ice remaining. "'Nother round."

"I think you oughta slow down there," Jack replied.

"Whoa, whoa! Jaaaack! C'mon, man!"

"You've been here an hour and that's your fourth double whiskey on the rocks," said the grizzled old barkeep. "You gotta be sober enough to fly your man outta here."

"Okay, first of all," Ronnie retorted, "they'll be in there all night and probably into the morning, so I got time to sober up. Second, Jimmy told me to stay put, no matter what. And as long as I'm here, I intend to make the best of my time. And third..." Ronnie leaded over the bar and started pointing out various individual images amid the tattoo sleeves on his arms. "See that?" He pointed to an Irish flag. "And that?" A shamrock. "And that?" A Celtic cross. "I can handle my liquor. So pour me another one."

"I'll be happy to." He set down a mug in front of Ronnie and filled it up with coffee. "So long as you finish this first."

Ronnie was about to say something back, but Jack just stood there burning a hole through him with that one eye of his. "Got cream and sugar?" he asked dejectedly.

He had his orders though. Stay put, no matter what. That was the last thing Jimmy had told him before he vanished into the back room of the bar. No matter what.

And then almost on cue, the power went out.

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

Travis didn't just cut the power to Tennesee Jack's - half the town had gone dark. So naturally, rather than sit in the dark waiting for the lights to come back on, the people made their way to the local bar.

A handwritten sign hung on the front door reading, "NO POWER - STILL OPEN." Inside, the place was jumping, lit by a combination of flashlights, candles, and peoples' phones. Sure, they couldn't fix up some nachos or their famous Devil Wings (hottest Buffalo wings in the Milky Way), but you didn't need power to serve alcohol. Sure, if you wanted a frozen margarita or a daiquiri you were shit outta luck, but beer taps ran on CO2, and grabbing a bottle and pouring a scotch on the rocks did not require anything to be plugged in. Of course the house band, Iron Slag, was in a bad spot, but all they had to do was break out those acoustic guitars and the show went on. So after a brief exodus, people started coming back in. By the time the hunters arrived, the place was rockin'.

"Hey Jack!" Ronnie called out, leaning over the bar and holding his empty coffee mug upside down. "How 'bout that drink you promised me?"

Jack nodded, letting Ronnie know that he heard him, but didn't turn his attention from the task at hand. Mind eraser, two kamikazees, and a Jonestown Kool-Aid. Not just complicated drinks, but everyone had their own recipie for the Kool-Aid, many radically different. Besides, he was in no hurry to give Ronnie Black more booze. But, he had promised.

Once the drinks were made and handed off to the lovely ladies (too lovely to be working in the mines, although he'd been wrong before), he grabbed a cold mug and poured Ronnie a beer.

"No more whiskey tonight, Ron," said Jack as he slid the mug over to him. "Cerveza from here on out."

Ronnie beamed as he wrapped his lips around his glass. While he wanted more hard liquor, he'd never turned down a beer before, and he wasn't about to start. And still, no matter how much he drank, five little words echoed in his head.

Stay put, no matter what.

((Seven years working in a restaurant. Power goes out, doors stay open and you never stop serving drinks :) ))
Posted Image
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~Deadly Aim~
Member Avatar
Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Good point. XD ))

"Wait... pfffffft. This is why I hate alcohol."

He had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy, but at least they now didn't have to worry about sudden spotlights or streetlights turning on... although why a bar would have those wasn't of consequence at the moment.

What was of consequence was that everyone was suddenly filing back into the bar.

An unexpected if likely setback, he figured. Still, it was just that; a minor hurdle.

"Okay.... plan B."

Travis reached down, setting the Fenris to the side...

And picked up a pair of rocks.

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

Within the bar, happy hour continued in full swing despite the lack of air conditioning. By now, the miners, the ladies and everyone who had slurped sufficient alcohol were up and about dancing to the tune of Iron Slag's licks.

And then... two head-sized rocks came flying from outside, smashing through the window panes with relative ease.

----------

Travis half-expected the rest of the group to be somewhere between irritated or amused at the moment, but considering the circumstances, he wasn't about to open fire on a bar packed with innocent bystanders. At the moment, these people were unwitting, unwilling human shields between him and his destrination. So for now, unless another chance presented itself, rocks would have to do.

(1:12 AM. Eighteen minutes until we're supposed to be in the base.)

"Looks like this place was more rustic than the intel suggested; a genuine 21st-Century dive."

Hm.... now, thinking back on it, while it was obvious that Jimmy had chosen to help them, he couldn't help but wonder why he had been so willing to cooperate, much less been as helpful as he was. Even IF they had saved his brother Rex, why would a man he had hunted for the last few years across the galaxy suddenly be so willing to sing? Sure, they had all driven him into a corner, but it begged the question of why Jimmy seemed to know so much.

For now though, it was likely a products of his repressed nerves. Travis kept quiet, and waited.

(1:12:31...)
Posted Image
Online Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
+CEMP+
Member Avatar
Clockwork Master

(OOC: Hope this seems resonable enough for everyone)

Hiding amongst the many small hills and rock formations that surrounded Tenesse Jack's, Jenosa jabbed Travis's in the ribs with her elbow; or at least she tried with his armor on. "Nice plan," she remarked sarcastically. She questioned just how well Travis had researched the place, and more importantly, if he had used any common sense.

Come to think of it, he seemed to be taking this more like a combat field than a civilian party. "You plan B are rocks, Travis!? Really, I thought you were more creative than that."

He gave her a silent look that said, "Hey got anything better?"

She made an unsure look, looked around the terrain, and saw something that spark a wry smile on her face. In fact, she rather did.

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

Being filled with mining towns near the edge of space, it wasn't uncommon in Beta Loenis for there to be trading with foreign governments. Afterall, when this far out, a living needed to made by whatever means, and usually the closer to home, the cheaper the trade was. Atraxis mining lasers and Coalition protection gear were but some of the technologies that could be often found alongside their Federation counterparts at mining facilities, as well as other business sections.

And like any other tool, they eventually broke down for good. Case in point, not only were the hunters hiding near a recently closed mine, but Jenosa had spied a soon to-be decommissioned, industrial strength plasma-arc drill (Or PAD) near it. They were impossible for her to not recognize with their a large satellite dish-like end, their flat, circular, meaty base and a curelean energy orb floating at the center. She had seen them before when she was still a roudy teenager and one of her friends, drunk, decided to turn one into a eye-popping 'spectacle.'

And she hoped to recreate that event; granted, she felt dubious in her engineering skills, but she recalled the steps being simple enough that even she could probably pull it off blind. Or had that been the alchohol talking then? She honestly didn't know, but she wasn't going to leave this mission to some literal throw of chance.

Seeing nobody else nearby, she began to both wrack her brain and work her arms. All she needed was the condensed energy sphere and the base in general; that's what she remembered her friend saying. That was it. Nothing more. Nothing else.

Except, after barely going past releasing the safety coils, it didn't seem like that. In fact, no matter how much she worked her brain, she couldn't figure out what to do next. She stubbornly bit her lip, looking back to confirm that Travis wasn't going to wait around for some magic trick to occur. Yet for all that futility, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something... fantastic she could do with this. It was in the air. In her gut.

And maybe that was just it.

Flicking her wrists like a performer, and her gauntlets craclking with electricity as she clicked their EMP setting with her mind, she smiled inwardly. Time to make some magic happen. Slamming the side coils with one of her hands, she sent a living surge of electrical energy into the drills entire system. Everything else she did occured as instinct; she had no idea what it was, but with ever beat of her heart, it felt like she was brute forcing a spring down.

It was...kind of exhilherating, actually. Like...riding a bicycle at full speed using all her effort and blazing through the streets, manipulating the electrical energies on the tips of her fingers strangely brought about the same effect. She had never done anything like this before in her life, and even with her suit, she would have never been able to channel a surge of electricity like this. It's was almost like - and she shyed from using the term - she had literally evolved in leaps.

Her heart pounding and her gauntlets overheating, she pulled them away and barely had time to admire her handy work when she heard the distant crack of glass. Quickly followed by the drill's humming quickly turning into a unsettling scream, and the curelean sphere getting smaller and smaller. And pulsing threateningly faster as if it would burst.

Jenosa's hairs went on end. "Uhhh...run. Run run run RUN!"

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

To be sure, most people had seen an active PAD, or at least one that wasn't rotated, with the two arching streaks of white plasma criss crossing one another. An overcondensed, decaying energy sphere, on the other hand, was an phenomenon they had never quite seen.


What resounded through Tenesse Jack's bar was the equivilant of a sonic boom, minus, thankfully, the glass shattering effect. Outisde, at a distance, bright and several stories high, could be seen what resembled a giant bunson burner flame. Only it was more magnificent.

The plasma arcs were still there, but big and thick and crackling with electricity, with the dying sphere contain between them, more like a shimmering cloud than a solid sphere.

And most of the people were walking over to see what the hell it was.

------

Her ears still ring, Jenosa made a joyous laugh as she slapped her two friends on the shoulders. "That's how you get a party started," she exclaimed, "unconventional and crazy, I know, but it works. Friend showed me you could that with a PAD."

Motioning to the crowd leaving the bar to get a better look at the hell was creating that spectacle, she said in a more serious tone, "Alright, let's get going before everyone starts going back for more drinks."
Edited by CEMP, Aug 6 2013, 01:45 PM.
"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
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
~Deadly Aim~
Member Avatar
Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Travis hadn't even batted an eye as Jenosa jabbed at his rib-places, though the expression on the visible portion of his face told perfectly of his rigid feelings on the matter. When it was thugs and mercs, he had no problem with pulling the trigger right off the bat; but with civilians, it was different.

No, the less people that knew this operation was taking place, the better. Then again, Jenosa had never been in the Federation Black Ops; she probably didn't understand.

"Yeah, part of it is..." He mumbled back in response, his gaze firmly fixated through a scope and visor as he waited to see what the reactions of the bar's occupants would be; he was half-annoyed. "When's the last time you saw head-sized rocks go through windows on their own?"

As much as he despised it, Travis was currently annoyed with himself. The assessment he had made of the terrain and the electrical wires had been incorrect; he didn't realize that the electrical system was so sensitive in this colony. Then again, it's not like he had that kind of authorization; and it would have been foolish to indicate to Jenkins that they were planning an operation.

Then again, this had happened before; sometimes, things do not go as planned; that's why the plan existed at all, really. That way, once things had been corrected, there was order instead of chaos.

As he silently observed the impact site of the broken glass, a gathering of patrons were awed at the size of the rocks, and naturally so; they were the size of a human head, at least; few humans had the natural strength to throw something so large and heavy so far, even body-builders.

It was the second kind of investigative folk that immediately caught Travis' attention.

The first man was a muscle-bound gentleman at least in his middle age, scars all along his thinly bearded face telling the tale of a seasoned, hard-eyed combat veteran. Not to mention the combat vest Travis immediately noticed under his clothes and the tell-tale silhouette of an automatic weapon in his hands, investigating the entry point by which the rocks had been thrown. Not too far behind him came a less muscular and scarred young man with red hair, but the look in his eyes hinted the same purpose and focus.

These guys were either mercs or Jenkins' men, that much was obvious. Travis narrowed his eyes as he waited to see if there were anymore coming out to investigate, when he heard the most peculiar buzz:

"Pzzzzt!"

(Huh...?) The hunter immediately sat up onto his lap from his prone position, turning to look at the source of the sound.

Jenosa had apparently taken to investigating broken down or abandoned machinery at the nearby coal mine that had closed a few weeks ago (this according to the signs). And what's more, she wasn't just acting on her own, she was messing with the guts of this thing in some way, her gauntlets arcing with electric currents.

(What is she doing...?) Travis had raised his eyebrows much higher and at first moved to lay prone once more, only to hear more alerting sounds as he turned gaze upon her once more.

The ground was beginning to vibrate... what was going-

Suddenly, the vibration became a small earthquake and Jenosa's hair just about sprung into the air on its own; looking at the device and quickly figuring out at least partially what she had done, Travis wordlessly grabbed his equipment and sprung into the thicket off the hill, moving as quietly as he could between the trees. Thankfully, the screaming of the drill was providing more than enough cover noise for him to move at full sprint.

Finally, as soon as they had reached a more distant cliff face closer to the bar, Jenosa slapped both he and whom he could only presume was Z'gato on the shoulders as they settled onto the ridge, his eyes still firmly locked onto the bar.

Jenosa made a joyous laugh. "That's how you get a party started," she exclaimed, "unconventional and crazy, I know, but it works. Friend showed me you could that with a PAD."

Motioning to the crowd leaving the bar to get a better look at the hell was creating that spectacle, she said in a more serious tone, "Alright, let's get going before everyone starts going back for more drinks."

"Uh... um." Travis' mind went blank for a moment, unsure as to either congratulate Jenosa for her ingenuity or berate her for recklessness.

One one hand, she had quite possibly assured a mass distraction.

On the other, she had nearly fried them all!

Not that either would alleviate or better the situation, however. "Sure thing. Just a second..."

One final time, he scoped out the bar's interior, when something caught his eye; by this time, Jack had brought out lanterns and lit candles, allowing for at least somewhat of a passable view of the interior and the bar at their current angle.

Whatever Travis had just seen, the tone of his voice immediately dropped to a sinister low as he shook his head and looked again.

He tapped his visor, enhancing and zooming in his view of the scene through the scope.

"Constantine, that isn't who I think it is, is it...?"

["Who are you talking about in that bar, Travis...?"]

"I'll give you a hint; blonde hair, hawaiian shirt, and it appears he's on his next glass."

[".... agh! What is he doing here....?"]

"That's Ronnie Black, sitting at the bar there." Travis explained to his companions, his stone facade showing only slight hints of irritation and confusion. "What's going on here...? He's Jimmy Vega's man, why is he here???

Travis sighed. "I guess I'll have to ask him. Lock and load, everyone. Hopefully, Jack can be reasoned with. I'd hate to deprive an old vet of his retirement."

And without a word, Travis began to slink into the shadows up to the bar, signalling for the others to follow him.

"Jenosa, can you handle infiltration from the rear with Omega? Z'gato and I will be going a more direct route."
Edited by Deadly Aim, Aug 6 2013, 10:53 PM.
Posted Image
Online Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
DealsFor.me - The best sales, coupons, and discounts for you
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Sci-Fi Role Plays · Next Topic »
locked Topic