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After-Effect; Post-AC RP
Topic Started: Oct 24 2010, 10:41 AM (21,533 Views)
~The Boss~
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Native Son

"I just made your job easier," Jimmy said, casting a bewildered look at Tamaki. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying? I've got a plan. I've been preparing for this day since before you graduated. Do you truly not see what's going on here? Don't you understand... no, nevermind. Nobody here sees the big picture but me."

He shook his head at her dismissively, like a teacher scolding a foolish pupil, and headed down the corridor. For a moment, he considered the duffel bag. He could stop her, in any number of creative ways. But something told him now was not the time. And something else told him she probably wouldn't get very far anyway.

"If you really wanna help her, you'll let her make her own decisions," he called back to her as he disappeared around the corner.

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

“Alissa, Travis, Z'Gato, what's everyone's status?”

As soon as Jenosa spoke those words, someone grabbed her from behind in a powerful chokehold.

"I bet if we kill you, we win the game," sneered the Machine in her ear as he began to squeeze the life out of her. His eyes burned brightly with phazon energy, and his voice was as inhuman as his strength.

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

The base was eerily quiet now. The occasional rattle of gunfire or a stray grenade went off every now and again, but for the moment at least, it sounded as if most of the fighting and killing had already been done. The eye of the storm.

It was in this deceptive calm that Travis was walking through as his comm began crackling. But although it was indeed a woman at the other end, it wasn't one of the ones he was expecting.

"You didn't kill him, Travis," said Grace in his ear. "You know those aren't the rules."
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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"Hm... and I suppose you think I'm impressed that you found my frequency...? Congratulations. And you knew that wasn't my plan to begin with. I'm not like you."

(Keep her talking. If she's doing this for kicks, she'll keep gloating. Grace likes to brag.)

Travis calmly stalked back through the maintenance shaft, as if nothing had transpired between he and Delacroix at all. The blood from the gangster and (rogue) government operative had since been broken down into harmless dust by the suit's shields. It was not as though the man's blood was corossive. Though, in Travis mind, it may as well have been; he detested Delacroix and everything he had ever done purportedly in the name of peace. Travis had actually fought as a soldier, even doing black ops himself, but NEVER would have touched anything that involved the deaths of innocent civilians. Still... there was more time to wrestle the exact nature of his disgust with the man later.

Indeed, he had more pressing concerns; though knowing Grace, this was part of an elaborate plan... or an elaborate ruse; Travis would have no way of knowing until he had some kind of presence in the room where the bombs were purportedly set. Travis grimaced; if Grace really meant business or was simply playing a game, he would only know then. This plan was good; of her caliber, though he suspected that this time it may have been Jimmy.

"So tell me, how's Roknar this time of year? You know, because it's interesting to know if you're actually here at all. Who got you here, Grace? Ronnie? Jimmy? Delacroix? What'd they promise you, freedom? Time off? Or are you simply somehow sitting in your cell some light-years away, messing with us for laughs as you serve your sentence? Inquiring minds have to know. Oh, and I would suggest you think before you touch that button; I'll not only hunt you down, I'll gut you like a fish if you kill any of my companions; not that you're within my reach - yet."

(A toothless threat for now, but no matter. Keep her talking, Travis. Keep her talking. Give Constantine time to get around her shenanigans.) Travis thought to himself, continuing forward. There was a chance she would catch on and break contact, but there was always that risk with this kind of situation. Hopefully, Grace's tendency to brag would lead him right to her.
Edited by Deadly Aim, Aug 6 2014, 07:54 AM.
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Native Son

"No cell can hold me. You know this, Travis. Besides, if the rumors I've been hearing are true, then technically, I'm innocent."

Her great escapes were the stuff of legend. It was what she had built her reputation on, more than the sniper's bullets she left in Gio's men, and even more than her often bizarre antics. She may not have been the strongest, most powerful, or had the best toys. She may not have always been successful in her mission. But no matter how big a badass you were, when you weren't looking, Grace was gonna get away.

Until now. That's why Travis was the best. He caught the girl who couldn't be caught. Of course, to Grace, that would only make her next escape all the more daring.

"Don't worry, though. I have no desire to kill you or any of your friends. I am not, despite what you think, a cold-blooded murderer. Besides, I've seen you with your shirt off. Why would I ever want to harm something so beautiful? No, there's only one man I want dead, and that's Delacroix. And it's not murder if it's revenge.

"I know you may not see it that way, but we're actually on the same side. I wanna see Delacroix go down just as much as you do. There's a history of violence and ill will between us. I'm the reason he walks with a cane, he's the reason I went to prison. He and I are not friends. And you've seen what's been going on down here. Dude's gotta go. You know it, I know it. I just thought you and your friends might need a little incentive, just in case you happen to be going through one of your bouts of no-killing-ism. Which you probably are, aren't you?

"Wait a second, you think I'm bluffing, Travis? You think I'm bluffing, don't you? I promise you, I am not bluffing."


There was a short silence at the other end, and then a series of explosions from up above, five of them, all in rhythm. And then a not quite as loud but certainly bigger rumbling, shaking the walls even this deep within the base.

"Aaaaaaaaand that would be the main tunnel collapsing. So unless they thought to bring some earth-moving equipment along with them, whatever cavalry you got waiting to charge ain't getting in. Your move, Clark."
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(So she's not bluffing about the explosives, then. Good to know; have to keep her talking.) Travis thought to himself, continuing to crawl through the shadows. He stopped only briefly when he heard the sound of boots running outside and waited for the men to pass before continuing.

"Oh, I assure you, you're still very technically guilty." Travis began, evenly. "After I subdued you, I checked Jenosa's vitals. There is no mistake, Grace; she was very much medically dead. I'm sure of it. I was starting to even see signs of rigor mortis, so I had to put her in a cryotube to keep her from decomposing. You struck her aorta, Grace; nobody could survive that without immediate medical attention. I'll throw you a bone: you did kill her... but you didn't destroy her.

"Which brings me to my next point; I've figured enough that you aren't cold-blooded as some might say you are; at least, nowhere near as pundits would portray you as. But I'm not like you, Grace; I know you want Delacroix dead for revenge, and I can sympathize with that feeling, but you're missing the bigger picture. Say what would happen if somebody did kill him right now? You think the web of lies, conspiracy and dishonesty will die with him? You think his co-conspirators would just let either us run about? No, Grace; he has to face trial by public court-martial, so the whole Federation can see what Section 6 has been doing. If he has to die, then he should die after he is publicly shown to be worthy of scorn, hate and shame."

"Which brings me to my next point: if you think a few rocks are going to stop an entire battlegroup of capital ships, you've another thing coming; after all, you used to be in the military, like me; isn't that right, 'sarge'...?"

The world "Sarge" was spat with great animosity, great bitterness. An icy, terrible anger long buried and carefully controlled.

"I figured it out a long time ago, Grace; but I think you know that. After all, you were there, weren't you...? That fateful mission...? Heh... Kind of funny; to think that what was arguably the most hellish four months of my life is what actually start the rancor between you and I. Let me clarify something, Grace; I don't harbor such strong anger and dislike for you because you're an assassin. Assassins are a dime a dozen, even if you happen to be one of the best. It isn't even what you did to Jenosa, even though that didn't improve my opinion of you.

Travis gritted his teeth. "I think you know where this is going, Grace. let me take you back through the years; Nuyaii Prime. I was 21 then... didn't know nowhere as near as much as I do now. But I put the pieces together, eventually; I know that the cowardly witch who deserted us on that hellish jungle world was you.

Travis paused to let that sink in; though, he suspected she likely didn't care. "Do you know that Stewarts went looking for you...? Big Warren Stewarts from Texas...? We thought that you hadn't survived the ambush; but, as I went over the whole event in my mind over the years, something didn't click. Even though your vitals were pinging KIA, the hover-bike was missing, and the ship's computer indicated that there had been another pod launched at separate coordinates, though a storm cloud and away from us. I thought, and kept telling myself, it was a bug as a result of the damage to the ship's computer; I wanted to be wrong.

Travis exhaled, careful to watch the volume of his footsteps and voice. " I wasn't. I would replay things over and over again, until I realized a few years ago that your 'death' was no accident; that's right, isn't it...? You slipped out the ship with our only vehicle and left the rest of us to what you thought would be our deaths. Speaking of Stewarts, you should know something; he died, horribly I may add, because of you. I saw him get torn to pieces by a Nuyaii Land Crab queen after we found your obliterated pod. I couldn't do anything for him."

Travis flinched at the pain of the memory; Stewarts' death had not been a gentle one. "So, when I realized that my former commanding officer and you were one in the same... let's just say, I very much considered putting a magnum round between those devious eyes of yours and leaving you to rot. I don't hate you; I've learned to let it go, because I'm not some "comic book caricature" as much as you like to presume, and hate poisons; I despise you because you left us to die, and somebody actually lost their life looking for you. And even after that, you continue to take lives. Take, take, always taking; much more than you give.

"So go ahead, tell me you don't care. Tell me 'you're so dramatic' in protest, as usual. I don't care what you say; I still think even you at least deserve to understand my otherwise irrational anger and malaise towards you. Still, I doubt that'll change you; I'm fully ready to hear that you don't give a care. If anything, part of me should thank you; I'm the soul I am today because of you."

(Keep her talking, Travis; don't let her realize you're already making your move; where are you Constantine!?)
Edited by Deadly Aim, Aug 12 2014, 01:12 PM.
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(OOC: Well...this became much longer than expected)

Anyone tuning in on Jenosa's comm would have heard a brief, feminine, choking noise before the line cut.

Wha- Oh you are freakin' KIDDING me!

How this guy had even got the jump was beyond her, let alone the fact that, having been gang piled by bunch of heavy crates, he had somehow done it quickly and soundlessly. The thoughts “Who the heck really is this guy? Seriously!” would have crossed Jenosa's mind were she not already preoccupied with trying to come up with a solution in how to get out of this psychos choke hold.

Because in all retrospect, pain, brute force or raw plasma didn't even phase this guy. It was like she had been fighting a walking, chrome statue during their tussle, and she very much doubted a back kick to the family jewels would be her ace in the hole. Let alone a flash bang to the eyes. In fact, it was the sole reason why she remained motionless as possible despite the god stopping pain pressing into her neck; she'd just be wasting energy, and hence draining her precious seconds, by trying to have a wild tantrum against.

She needed those seconds to think of even a remotely sure fire means of getting him to yeild her; but every idea that flickered past her mind all involved futile, direct attacks. Because physical stimulus was normally how you got out of an unreasonable person's vice grib in the first place.

The Machine squeezed even more, intensifying the pain around her neck tenfold, all the while her lungs were starting to reach the screaming point for oxygen. She swore, even if she couldn't see the bastard's face, it was like he wanted to see her struggle with futility. As though some sickened part of him had waited for this moment for so long that his orders had become distorted. And now he would finally be able to take joy in it.

Oh no, you inhuman sonofabitch, she exclaimed to herself, even as she began to struggle, NOT on my watch!

She raised the palms of both gauntlets for her eyes to see briefly, which began to brim with the pulsing, cyan energy she 'transfused' into her weapons with. Only what she was going to do this time wasn't that, but something far more taboo to her. An action - one out of all the thousand other that she had thought of – that she had honestly hoped to never take. But now, determined and desperate, with no other option one, she just had to.

Here goes nothing.

She clasped her hands against the Machine's. And let her 'lifeblood' sink in.

It felt...dirty. In fact, it felt revolting, as though their very spirits were touching one another. Never before had she even dreamed of doing this with another person; let alone with him. At least the weapons she wielded, didn't have 'souls' to begin with, unlike...

Focus, Jenosa, focus, you gotta do this all[/i] the way.[/i]

She did, completely egged on by almost pure survival instincts now. Every 'bit of 'her' flood his for arms, mixing, blending, and intermingling with the man's own energies. Including the phazon. This had the intended effect: the invasive energies caused a brief paralysis in his system. The unintended effect was all those intermingled energies slipping back into her.

She gasped in more ways than one as she felt to the floor, for even as their hands disconnected, the 'extension' of herself slipped back into her body like an elastic band; now tainted with pure living phazon energy. The effect was like having parasitic worms invade her body through her hands.

Which was followed up by the feeling of getting slammed in the stomach by a fifty kiloton transit piston, and sent flying against the warehouse wall. Jenosa coughed from the impact, feeling winded as well as violated, but at least not suffocating. She staggered back onto her feet, having just enough time to regain all of her breath when she saw the Machine come running at her. From a distance.

And then flash blue, appearing right before her while simultaneously kicking her in the stomach. Jenosa, having as much of a fight going on inside of her, had no time to react, even though she felt the barest hint of a ‘telegraph.’ It slammed her upright against the warehouse wall, Jenosa crying out in short pain as her suit protected her more fragile body from the impact.

The Machine slammed her several more time with his feet, as his arm apparently still ‘paralyzed’ from before, and he wanted all the more to pin her to the wall. And he didn’t want to give her a chance to retaliate.

Considering the amount of strength in each attack, a normal human would have been turned to jelly by now. Jenosa, on the other hand, had an incredible amount life force dwelling within her and imbuing her suit; even so, the Machine seem to halt – maybe in satisfaction – as he heard the sound of some of her ribs cracking. And Jenosa screamed in pain.

While he seemed to be regaining control of his arms, the Machine seemed intent of crushing her with his feet, and made a final effort to slam his foot and squeeze the –

He staged for balance as the woman caught the foot with a strength that seemed to possess her. She pushed it away.

“I…”

The Machine twirled and used the momentum to retaliate with his other foot.

“HAVE HAD…”

Jenosa, with skill honed from several days of hand-to-hand sparing with Alissa, subservented it.

“ABOUT…”

And with dim, cyan, fury so human it was scary, she lashed back.

ENOUGH OF YOU!

Roaring with crackling energy, she lobbed a phazon enhanced bolt that melted off the Machine’s arm. And with grace ever more, she flipped and turned and melted the other arm off.

Barely phased by his now cauterized stubs, the Machine flickered blue again and-

Reappeared with Jenosa’s hand deep inside his chest. Him kicking her only aided to dislodge it, while simultaneously pulling out a very important organ of his. Which, at the sight of it, caused both combatants to freeze

In the palm of Jenosa's gauntlet was the Machine’s heart.

It was still beating. Its veins, all of them yanked out like wires, still feeding into his body. And the Phazon, infused into the muscle with a shimmering blue quality, still thriving within.

And festering within her, the impulse to 'reach out' and 'assimilate' the mass of living, pulsating energies into herself. Like she had done before. She only fought with this urge only for a second before the rest of her being revolted in pure, undulated fury. Roaring, she squeezed the Machine's heart as she pumped every ounce of her tainted soul back into the man's heart.

Stinging 'pain' rippled across her whole being as she willed this to happen every inch of the way. Whether the Machine felt pain during his final moments could not be read in his face.

What could be metaphorically read was that this was one way to cause a Phazon Infused heart attack. The muscle bulged like a balloon her hands to four times its size, quivered for two seconds as though fighting for survival, and finally exploded in a crimson, static burst.

The Machine staggered back and stood for a second, as though the destruction of his engine would not deter his momentum. And then Jenosa push him lightly and he fell over, lifeless.

After a brief moment of silence, Jenosa collapsed onto her knees, fighting the bile trying to erupt from her throat. Gulping, she said to herself, “Uhhhh...disgusting.”

Her words were only in half reference to the visual mess before her.
"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."
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Alissa blinked, not only because the request from Armoria was for aid, or because it was a direct departure from orders, but mostly because the subject seemed to be extremely attached to the scientist. It was hard for Alissa to understand, however the truth was she had suffered greatly at the hands of her creators, were she confront with any one of them she would have difficulty not simply shooting them in the head. But this was something else altogether.

Her first instinct was to deny the request, which she pushed away as coming from that part of her mind that was still almost machine like. Just the same there was that momentary pause to consider her own mission.

And then there was a series of explosions, dull thuds which meant they were a good distance off.

***the entrance tunnel has been collapsed in a controlled explosion, probability is low that the facility staff initiated the demolition, suspect the grey fox***

Alissa grew quiet a moment and looked back to Armoria a moment

“Computer, use the mechs to dig out the tunnel, and locate Dr. Tamaki”

There was a pause; outside the entrance tunnel those still fighting would notice a sudden shift as the mechs began moving and either lifting or blasting debris out of the way to clear the way

***updating your may with the location of Dr. Tamaki***

Alissa moved toward Armoria quietly a moment looking to a map displayed on her wrist mounted computer before looking toward the subject.

“Follow me”
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((Grace actually wasn't in the military, but I don't think I ever explicitly made that point. I'm sure she's impersonated someone along the way, though, so it can be finagled))

"Exactly what makes you think that Delacroix is actually gonna face justice, huh? You see Travis, this is what you just don't understand, and what I'm starting to think you'll never understand. It's not Delacroix, or Section 6, or the military. It's the whole goddamn system, from top to bottom, beginning to end. What you call corruption, I call the normal, everyday functions of the State. Those who wield power will inevitably wield it against the people."

Travis likely knew what was coming. He'd often been subjected to her proletarian rants during her confinement aboard his ship. Though despite her frequent exhortations for him to go back and read his Karl Marx, she was no Bolshevik, but rather quite literally a bomb-throwing anarchist.

"Let me tell you exactly what's gonna happen if you put Delacroix on trial. First of all, if they don't offer him a deal so sweet it gives him diabetes and I guarantee you they will, he's not going down for anything hard. Running a criminal conspiracy at best, with some unethical experimentation thrown in for good measure. Then he's looking at some of the softest time anyone's ever done, chillin' in the yard with hardcore stockbrokers and tax cheats, and that's if he doesn't just walk altogether. Then, once he's served whatever joke of a sentence they've handed down, he'll go on to a cushy corporate gig or become a talking head on the news. Which is just as well for him, cause between you and me, he's gonna need the money.

"And all the while, it's not really gonna be him on trial, it's gonna be you. Oh sure, you're not gonna be facing charges, and you're certainly not going to prison. But it'll be your good name dragged through the mud in that courtroom. It'll be your associations with outlaws like Trisha Winters and her followers that'll be used to undermine your credibility. Just like Samus Aran.

"I watched those BSL hearings on TV, Travis. I remember how witness after witness was trotted out there, spewing the BSL line. And then Aran came out, raised her right hand, and kicked ass, made them all look like the liars they were. Everyone who saw that knew she was telling the truth, and all the evidence - all of it! - backed her up. And what happened? Nothing. No arrests, no criminal charges, I don't think anyone even got fired. And for all her trouble, Samus Aran gets run out of town on a rail.

"And you know what, Travis? That's not a failure of the system, that's the system protecting the people it's designed to protect. Doesn't matter if it's authoritarian or a so-called free society, the powerful write the rules in their favor, and anyone who stands up for themselves is branded a criminal or a traitor. That's just a basic fact of human civilization, and no amount of reform or revolution is ever gonna change that.

"You know what the word 'revolution' means, right? It means full circle, as in three hundred and sixty degrees, as in right back where you started. Nothing ever changes. Entropy applies just as much to politics as it does to physics. Sure, you get a good leader every now and then. But eventually, the system always slides back into doing what it does best: protecting it's own and screwing everybody else.

"I shouldn't have to explain this to you, Travis. You've seen it happen. You've watched the system turn against your friends one by one. You know them to be good people, and yet they're still pursued by the forces of Law and Order. The very forces, by the way, that you continue to believe in wholeheartedly and fight to preserve. You persist in having faith in the system, even as shows it's true face everywhere you look. Well guess what? You're up next on the chopping block.

"You're already an outlaw, you just don't know it yet. You sealed your fate by walking through those doors. Keaton can't protect you forever. Sooner or later, they'll be coming for you, just like everyone else.

"You want justice? You want Delacroix to pay for what he's done? Only one way to do that. No half-assing this, Travis. If you're gonna be an outlaw... might as well go all the way."
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((Oops. Sorry.))

"Watch your damn mouth." Travis suddenly snarled, allowing himself to be angry if only for a moment before he quickly settled down. Long, drawn-out and diversionary conversation or no, his sister was no outlaw; not by choice. What did Grace know, anyway...? She didn't understand; she couldn't, at least where this was concerned. "My sister was a saint; it was corrupt men like the ones you speak of that call her 'traitor'. History will absolve her, I promise you that.

"You see, Grace, I think it is you who needs to understand something; I'm not blind to the corruption and the selfishness present in the system. Such things go hand-in-hand with human nature and have gone hand-in-hand throughout all recorded history; it's a wonder any people or race, least of all humanity, enjoy the prominence they do. The things we'll do to each other, much less to our own peoples and races, are contemptible. Sometimes, I wonder why civilizations such as the Chozo and the Luminoth didn't construct some kind of Galactic array, warp out of Federation space, and watch the fireworks; or better yet, just an observation platform to watch the carnage. We're doing a fine job of destroying ourselves.

"That's not my point though; what I mean to say is that I understand that there will always be those who manipulate and lie to attain power.

"Here's another thing you might not understand: I'm perfectly aware that Delacroix might well get off fairly easy. But you know something? He'll be looking over his shoulder the rest of his life. Me? I'll be watching and waiting; so when he does screw up, I'll be waiting for him. Assuming the many, many enemies he made do not off him first."

This whole charade was doing wonders for buying Travis time. Soon enough, he would be close to his destination, and at least be able to have a look at the charges.

"Here's another thing you fail to understand: I don't necessarily care completely for public opinion. I've had numerous, numerous entities slander me before, trying to manipulate or blackmailing me. But here's why they can't beat me, or Samus or anyone else, no matter what games they play: I am a symbol for all they aren't. It's easy to discredit a man, silence him, kill him; but a symbol, no... a symbol endures. A symbol lasts. Samus, myself and others are the symbols of justice and order in a galaxy where it's easier to disregard the rules than follow them.

"Did you ever think about why these slime balls never went after Samus? It's because if she was so inclined, she could tear this whole galaxy apart. I guarantee you that she knows where to restore her suit, and if she wanted she could march into their little secret clubhouse, blow it to hell with a power bomb with everyone inside, and be out sipping margaritas on a Hydroras II beach a few days later like nothing happened. Yet, she doesn't; you know why? Because it wouldn't help anyone. No, to solve this problem, one has to strike the root, not the branches. But you need more than one person to do that. Indeed, you need a force; an army.

"Grace, it isn't necessarily the job of Samus, myself or others to be the ones implementing changes; it will happen when people wake up and no longer allow for these shenanigans to dominate our society. I realize very, VERY well that this is unlikely in either of our lifetimes or that there won't be another Section 6 or another Delacroix or another you. But, change will happen; like you said, 'entropy' goes in cycles, right?

"Men like Section 6 should be afraid of the likes of Samus and myself; with their blood-stained hands for the sake of power and greed...? They made people like Samus and myself. And you know what...? Deep inside, they fear us because even though they 'created' us, we can't be controlled and leashed for their little games like all their other pawns; certainly, not without risking their own craven necks. Sure, they might go on to other things, or a cushy cell or a light sentence, but we're always watching; Samus, I and the others, we're like a gaunt specter hanging over them. Once they know we're watching, they should never truly sleep easy. The lies and death always catch up; always.

"So, go ahead, tell me I have a 'comic-book understanding' of the world; it may or may not change anything 500 years from now, but somebody has to keep order so that people like Delacroix and you don't destroy everything. You know what's really challenging, Grace? It isn't destroying all that's wrong with the galaxy; it's building something that lasts."

(Come on, Constantine! I can keep her going, but who knows if or when she'll catch on to the fact that I'm leading her on!)
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((I'm not saying that incident didn't happen, mind you))

"You know what I think? I think you and I are more alike than you're willing to admit. I think there's an outlaw inside of you, waiting to come out. And there's nothing wrong with that. Outlaws can be heroes too, you know. Like Robin Hood.

"I mean, c'mon Travis, what would you rather be? Honestly. A hero in the eyes of the Law? Or to the people who really matter?"


As she spoke, Travis came to a set of blast doors that were sealed, but not locked. Beyond the doors was a storage bay lined with metal tanks plastered with radiation symbols - even where Travis was standing, the levels had spiked dramatically. Attached to each tank was a plastic explosive.

On its own, each brick of C-12 wasn't particularly powerful. Even all together, if the blast doors were sealed shut the explosion would easily be contained. But those bombs were merely the spark to something bigger. It was the phazon in the tanks that would provide the real power, not to mention release the corruption.

Lying in the middle of the floor was a detonator. Whoever it had belonged to was long gone.
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Armoria wasn't sure what to believe anymore. The fact that she was disobeying direct orders, or that she was even listening to, let alone remotely trusting, an enemy combatant now. It completely went against the very core of her upbringing; her sworn duty to unwaveringly follow commands, to be unyielding to her enemies, and to accomplish her tasks with every ounce of zeal.

And yet the intoxicating urge to...to become the monster of her nightmares went against the very core of her being. Her very sworn duty to protect - especially those much weaker, and defenseless than her. People like Tamaki, and the few other scientists that had helped...raised her. She would not - WILL NOT - have herself become a danger too them.

Even as she hesitantly followed 'Simmons', she struggled with the turmoil in herself. She wanted so much to fall back onto her original orders, to give herself simplicity and a sense of direction again. But...she was deeply afraid to at the same time, because if she did, the urges festering within her would twist these orders. Like it had almost had before, only having avoided it thanks to training herself in controlling these impulses. Just...not with such strength.

Her mind was effectively in a catch 22. She couldn't follow her orders while running the risk of losing herself, but she had no other sense of direction without them. Which was why she hoped for Tamaki, the only actual person she relied on telling her what was real and what wasn't.

The whole thing was maddening.

And then, as they turned the corner near the warehouse exit, she stopped.

Before her eyes was stood a bloodied reflection of herself. Crimson was sprayed all over her face and cyan suit, while blood still dripped from her the fingers of her right gauntlet. There was still some labor in her breathing, and her largely neutral expression and posture twinge of horror at what she had done.

Then her brain processed the rest of the smaller details and realized this was not her, but the enemy female who's appearance was unsettling like hers. It took another second for her shocked face to go to a grimace, and then to a sneer. “You...you killed someone didn't you!?” she spoke accusingly, whipping her force blade – a weapon she had picked up again without a second thought - and pointing it threateningly at the woman's face.

She had not forgotten Alissa's words about them 'taking pains not to kill today.' Oh no. And while she still remained largely conflicted with herself, she had enough sense of duty to not let murderers go about her home. The only thing keeping her from attacking outright, regardless of 'Simmons', was the fact that the woman was not taking up a combat-ready stance whatsoever. To attack an unwilling opponent went against her basic training.

In fact, she looked internally injured. And, while briefly surprised, quite unnerved by Armoria's words.

“Well excuse me, sister!” she replied back, fiercely and defensively in a voice that sounded like hers but wasn't. “But your Phazon-infused psycho buddy didn't exactly give me a choice in the matter.”

There was a flash of disbelief in Armoria's face before narrowing her eyes at the woman. “You mean the Machine? The sole black-ops commander here relaying our commands? But...he was under orders to take you in alive.

The opposing woman raised an eyebrow at this. “Yeah, well, I can see why they gave him that name; asshole was so indifferently twisted that his orders must have slipped his mind when Ms. Harry Houdini made her opening act.”

“What!?”

He tried to choke me!

“It was a sleeper hold.”

Bull...shit! My sore neck – oh, and my cracked ribs – beg to differ. That is not how you take someone in alive.”

“Then you were to be taken in dead!” Armoria threatened.

At this point, the whole argument came to a silent stand still with the tip of Armoria's blade inching against the enemy woman's neck. Yet, to her confusion, the look-alike didn't even back down an inch; in fact, the woman's green eyes remaining locked with hers, she had immediately raised her hand to tell 'Simmons' to not get involved. Why? Who was this woman that she was so intent on having this just between them?

She didn't know, and for all her apparent animosity, her sword was beginning to shiver from indecision. Not just from the clash between her conditioning and her turbulent emotions, but from the woman's unnerving stare itself. For held in those woman's eyes was what appeared to be an absolute understanding; the kind she usually felt from facing Tamaki. She even got the ironic sensation of feeling small, despite Armoria clearly being about both a good foot taller and broader than her 'counterpart.'

Finally, after a good long, tense 10 seconds of being unable to tell what was real and what wasn't, Armoria let out a frustrated roar a she whipped the sword away from the woman. All the while splitting a crate in two in her fury.

Looking at 'Simmons', she stated between deep breaths, “Continue. Find. Tamaki.”

“So,” the woman chided to 'Simmons' in a lighter tone, “new friend?”
"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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