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Vergo Flux (SC RP); It's a working title
Topic Started: Jul 1 2011, 02:28 PM (8,278 Views)
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Clockwork Master

Jenosa grimaced in response. "No, Travis, that's not quite what me- I mean, what I wanted- I mean - oh never mind. Just forget I said anything."

Internally, Jenosa had regretted pushing the 'issue' as far as it had gone, for it had brought up the last subject she had actually wanted to talk about. It wasn't so much that she wanted to hear Travis's thoughts, just that she felt he unnecessarily hiding his current feelings; a point she now felt he had entirely missed. She just found it silly, and unhealthy, to have that up-front, tough soldier look when they really should be all talking and expressing themselves freely.

That was her motto anyway. Jenosa wasn't one to usually hide her feelings; of course, if someone asked her what was wrong and she didn't feel like talking, then she strongly wouldn't talk about it. And if Travis didn't want to either, at least for a time, then she would respect him on that too.

Oh well, she thought, life goes on.

Still, her mood officially soured, she couldn't help but turn to Twilight, and asked in a low voice, "So what happened to you? You don't look exactly like you...used to be. Hope it's not a cosmetic choice, because I honestly preferred the older you."

(OOC: And that should be that for that little caveat ;))
"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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~Twilight~
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Just... Kind of out there...
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
OOC: It worked better in my head :/

Things seemed surprisingly light-hearted considering what they had all gone through, until something happened between Jenosa and Travis. From Twilights perspective it seemed Travis was frustrated, probably due to Grace whom he seemed to have a lot of history with, but instinct told him it was something more than that. Something about his behavior made Jenosa annoyed, or at least that's the impression he got, at which point she threatened to rip the mans helmet off. And apparently Twilight had somehow become an example in being socially acceptable, he didn't quite figure out how that worked, but oh well.

The exchange between the two continued for a short while, until Travis admitted defeat and revealed the thoughts that troubled him. From what Twilight had seen and heard of the Zerg he was not surprised that Travis, an ordinary human (other than being quite exceptional) was likely to be affected by what he'd seen the Zerg do to people. Based on what he knew so far of the Zerg, he was beginning to draw a lot of parallels with a certain other species.

"Ing." Twilight said out loud.

"The Luminoth word for terror. They... We were quite similar to these Zerg in many ways, though we didn't cause infestation the way the Zerg does, our most common weapon was our ability to possess the bodies of living and machine." He paused, glancing at Grace before he continued. "I believe Grace here has witnessed it first hand?" It was more a confirmation than a question, but he didn't wait for an answer and instead turned to look at Travis again. "Like the Ing I suspect the Zerg uses this just as much to swell their forces as a method of breaking the spirit of their foes. Make no mistake, if the Zergs infestation is even slightly similar to an Ing possession then killing them is a mercy." Twilight deliberately chose to sound absolute while delivering his monologue, he didn't know if it would help at all but he felt that he'd need to try and do something before Travis fell into self-doubt like so many of those who had faced the Ing.

He briefly wondered how those who did not know what he was would react to his words, but then shrugged it off and turned to Jenosa who had spoken to him prior during the silence that ensued after Travis revelation. "Perhaps you recall my capture by the Federation...? They believed that because Phazon caused me pain it was a suitable substitute to keep me disabled." He paused, his face fell as if saddened or disappointed somehow "They couldn't have been more wrong... The phazon overpowered me, causing a rapid expansion of dark energy which has destroyed the subtle balance of light and dark in my form. And I... Managed to escape, and now I'm here." It was clear that he left out something significant. Especially considering his capture wasn't exactly a recent occurrence.

OOC: (Leaving the time of his capture open-ended, could be a few months to a year ago, whichever works best)
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~The Boss~
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Native Son

Oh good Lord... Grace thought as she rolled her eyes. It was Travis Clark doing what he did best: playing the martyr. She could only take so much of this.

"Alright, c'mere," she said, grabbing Travis by the hand and pulling him aside. "Now listen to me, Travis. I know that I'm probably the last person in the universe that you want to hear from right now, but please, forget that it's me talking and just listen to what I'm saying."

She locked eyes with him, piercing gaze to piercing gaze, perhaps one of the few people who could actually do that to him. God, she wished Nick Scanlan were here right now. Marines had their own language. He'd be able to reach Travis on a level she never could, regardless of how he felt towards her. But she had to try.

"You think I didn't see what happened back there? Take everything you just said, only change it from 'crew of some random ship' to 'people who you've spent the last year with.' Even before then, I was part of a Pirate crew that got attacked by those Darklings." She cast a suspicious eye towards Twilight. "Yeah, Zebesian Pirates. And yes, they were people too, despite what you think. More importantly than that, they were my crew, they were my friends. But when they turned into monsters and started slaughtering the rest of us, we did the only thing we could. Those people back there? They were already dead. There's no shame in an act of mercy. The crueler thing would've been to let them suffer, and that's not the Travis Clark that I know.

"Ours is a dirty business, Travis. Doing things you're not proud of is just a part of life. Doesn't mean you have to like it, but you cannot let it affect you. And don't even try and pretend like it doesn't. I can practically see you father's ghost standing over your shoulder, for God's sake."

Grace was holding Travis's hands at this point. It wasn't romantic or flirtatious by any means, merely the sort of intimate gesture she might make with someone she felt close to. And despite - or perhaps because of - the tense and often violent history between them, she most definitely felt close to Travis. But it was still probably more intimate than he was comfortable with.

"I... I know you're hurting. That's okay, you're a human being, not a robot. But things won't get any easier from here. Next time maybe it's not some random crewman. Maybe it's Jenosa. And if you don't have the strength to do what needs to be done, then we lose both of you." Her grip was tightening, though she probably wasn't even aware of it.

"It's not even halftime, Travis. You gotta play through the pain, whether it's physical or emotional. When the final buzzer sounds, and you're enjoying a nice hot shower after a hard fought victory, then will be the time to contemplate the price of that victory. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, then I'll be right there crying with you. Preferably in the shower." She looked up at his stone face and frowned, letting go of his hands. "Smile, Travis, that was a joke."

She sighed with a mixture of more emotions than she even knew. "But until then, we've got an unholy alien swarm to exterminate. So stop giving me that brooding face and just be a bad motherfucker."

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

"They actually call themselves the Dominion?" asked Steinman, a confused look on his face. "With a straight face?"

Still, as odd as that was, his little exchange with Raynor helped to put the pieces together a little bit better. Clearly not temporal displacement, or else he would've heard of the Federation, if only as a relic of the past. Some kind of wormhole, then.

But now was not the time to contemplate the details of how they got here. They had lives to save.

As Steinman and the medics went to work, a large, broad-shouldered female inmate crept up to Raynor, getting closer than he probably would've liked. "You remind me o' my first husband," she said in an accent that was thicker and more country than his many times over. "Smell better'n him, though. I miss that ol' sumbitch."

"She brained her first husband with a pipe wrench," interjected the teenage girl whom had been sitting next to Grace earlier.

"Shut yer mouth you annoying little shit 'fore I snap you in half!"

"Doc, we're losing him!"

Steinman scrambled over to where one of the medics was tending to a blond haired boy, the youngest inmate on the ship, and he was definitely in the worst shape. Apart from the fact that he looked to have lost more blood than what was still in his body, his skin had turned a pale, sickly green and he'd started convulsing violently, gargling and choking and altogether looking like something very bad was about to happen.

"Just say the word, Doc," said Torres, her hand gripping her sidearm but not yet drawing it. "I'll make it quick."

Not wasting any time, the doctor shot him full of morphine to at least ease his suffering. "Well sir," he said to Raynor, sounding as nonplussed as he could, "I do believe this is the part where you explain to us just exactly what the hell these things are."
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~Deadly Aim~
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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If Travis' eyes were beacons of flame, they were burning as he stared at Grace without emotion for what seemed to be a small eternity. In truth, he wasn't sure what to make of her, but suddenly his face jutted into a slight frown. Yet again, Grace proved how she could strike a cord in Travis, one he typically did not enjoy being struck. And yet, as he may have reacted with throthing rage when a younger man, the quiet displeasure that Travis expressed more than adequately noted that the mention of his father was an offense, intended or not. It wasn't the right person to speak of.

"I've plenty of ghosts in my past; not many out there who don't." He replied, breaking the uneasy silence. Surely, Grace realized that he wasn't troubled on THAT matter?

"Still, my father has nothing do with why my thoughts are troubled at the moment; do not mention him again... please." He finally modified that demand into a request, hanging onto that statement for what seemed longer than necessary as he temporarily tightened his own grip enough to match Grace's; though it was clearly restrained and non-aggressive.

"Look... I know it was the right call." He calmed, his normal even demeanor returning. though something in his manner suggested his thoughts had become temporarily lodged into his ghosts along with the conversation.

Was it... sadness? Suddenly Travis' eyes seemed heavy, and worn. And yet, his jaw was set in determination, as if every word he spoke would be as he willed.

"When it comes to hell and high water, I assure you: I can and *will* pull the trigger. This isn't my first rodeo, Grace. I think you know that. So... as much as I find myself askance to say this...? Thank you, but I will be okay."

Travis turned and waited so that he didn't interrupt the discussion. "And you all need to understand that I'll be okay. I'll deal with it when the fire's over and it's just me and the good Lord. Doubt I would have made it past 16 if I didn't know how to cope. I... just never had to do that before. Ever." There, he admitted it.

(And hopefully never again...) He thought to himself, but if what he had seen today was any indication, he likely held onto a fool's hope.
Edited by Deadly Aim, Apr 19 2014, 09:24 PM.
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~Alissa~
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Alissa was quiet during the whole exchange with Travis and grace as she considered what was really bothering the hunter in relation to dealing with the infected on the ship back there.

What might surprise most that had worked with her was that she understood; on a deeper level than most be able to understand. She moved around the group quietly till she stood not far away from Travis and spoke quietly.

“The Zerg are truly alien….I do not think we could understand their actions or motives, certainly not in our limited time. But what I do understand, what you need to understand though is that you did not kill any human beings in that ship the Zerg did” she said quietly drawing a breath

“I am uncertain is the soul exists but I do know there is something about being human that cannot be wrapped up in their physical shell” Alissa paused having difficulty finding the correct words for what she was trying to say.

“What the zerg did to those people stole their agency from them, their free will” she said lowing her voice so that only Travis could hear “I’ve been prisoner in my own body, watching as I did things that on a level I felt was deeply wrong….” She was quiet a moment “the zerg killed those people, imprisoned their minds and forced them to watch as their bodies did things they wanted to stop more than they wanted to live”

She paused a moment “I’m not telling you this because I think it will make you accept what had to be done, the first lesson about humanity I learned is that our morals are our own. I am telling you this to try to help you understand, what you had to do was not only necessary, but kind”

After that Alissa rejoined the group though she found a place to sit down. “we need to survive long enough to get home….how do we do that?”



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~The Boss~
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Native Son

Grace parked herself on a nearby crate while Alissa spoke to Travis, plucking the cigarette from behind her ear and finally - finally - lighting up. Twenty hours on a deep-space flight with about a hundred killers, thieves, rapists and psychos only to be dropped into the middle of an apocalyptic alien infestation... she couldn't remember ever needed a cigarette so badly in her life.

Feeling significantly more relaxed now, she considered what Twilight had said. He was right, what these Zerg things did wasn't far off from what the Darklings did to the crew of the Salty Dog. The main difference was that the Darklings seemed to exist on another plane, while Zerg where right there in front of you, doing their own slaughtering rather than relying on living puppets.

Come to think of it, back on the plane, Twilight had said something or other about dimensional tears. Was that what he said? It sounded like something similar, though to be fair Grace was too busy hating him to really be listening to what he was saying. Was it possible that-

“We need to survive long enough to get home," said Alissa. "How do we do that?”

Grace's train of thought was interrupted, even though she wasn't exactly sure where it had been going, whatever it was. But at the same time, she started going down a totally different track, one that might eventually lead to the same place.

"I think I know where to start," she said. "These guys call themselves Raynor's Raiders, right?" She took a wallet out of her pocket ant pulled out an ID card. "James Raynor. That's our man. I saw him going over to my ship. Well, not my ship, but you know what I mean. C'mon, let's go." She started walking before anyone could chide her for theft.
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(OOC: Boss, tell me if this is alright with you)

"Oh you betcha," Jim replied to Steinman about the Dominion, "and they'll tell 'ya with the straightest face their 'resoc' soldiers will ever give you."

As they moved through, Jim grimaced as the more uglier aspects of convincts reared their heads; chiefly when that broad shouldered woman talked. Given the fact that this prison ship was, from what he could tell, literally displaced from their normal space and time. Talk about fiction come to life, Jimmy thought. Alien monsters and highly advanced psionic warriors were one thing to meet in space, but, from his understanding, people popping out from another dimension was like an idea coming strait out a class-A writer's mind.

Regardless, though, he knew he couldn't simply leave the prison ship to drift in space. But nor could he simply let everyone here just hop on board. This is certainly going to take some time to discuss with Matt, he thought, knowing that his second-in-command had enough trouble with just one convict.

His mind snapped back to more pressing concerns when he came witness to the state of one of the injured victims. And, with a chagrin, what was happening. He gripped a side, and looked at Steinmen Darkly, "By things I assume the monsters that attacked the Claymore. They're called Zerg, and they're the nastiest sorts of uglies you'll find in the Korprulu sector."

He hefted his handgun out, "And I'm afraid that 'ugly' can sometimes jump into a perfectly normal human being." To emphasize his point, he now pointed the gun at the ill-patient, "And this mate over here has got every sign of Zerg infection. There's no cure, and you probably guess what he'll become soon."

"So you gonna let me administer the best dose of medicine for this point, or will you?"
---------

Although Jenosa was doing her best to ignore the tussle between Travis and Grace (Good grief, it was like that woman actually in love with him?), the convicted woman immediately had her attention at the mention of this 'Jim Raynor' character. She had never seen him, but only knew that he was greatly responsible for helping out the crew of the Claymore. And for that she was grateful, and considering the friendly, albiet cautious, hospitality, he seemed like a nice enough guy.

Henceforth she was quite eager to follow Grace, however much of a mischievous convict she was. The two of the, and whoever else followed, were a few feet away from the prison ship's airlock when they bumped into into a young, well kept man wearing a black, with a speckle of gold, admiral's uniform. He had an average build, short black hair, and held some commanding authority with his posture and gait.

He also seemed to have been looking for the two woman. Or rather, Jenosa.

“Ah, you must be Jenosa Arma the second-in-command of the Claymore spoke about.”

She perked up at this, “And your Jim Raynor?”

The man scoffed, “Umm, no, I'm his second-in-command, Matt Horner.”

Jenosa grinned sheepishly, “Heh, my mistake for listening to light, descriptive rumors. So you were looking for me?”

“Yes, well, I was told to be on the lookout for you'd probably be with the group of...Hunters he talked. And you'd probably stick out in the crowd.”

“Yeah, I tend to do that in more ways.”

“Well, awkward meetings aside, was actually hoping to meet with your group to discuss details about, well, what you plan. And in what ways we can help. I already take it some of your friends behind got some questions.”
"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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~Deadly Aim~
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
If there was something Travis didn't do very often, it was smile; which he did, to Alissa's thoughtful comment. Though he also realized it was necessary, firing on conscious, unarmed people was among the decisions Travis might second-guess his usually certain personality on. He reasoned that it was one thing if your target was hostile and pointing a weapon at your person; it was another if your target had the look of pure and unadulterated fear in their eyes as their horribly mutated body moved on its own to menace you. Yet, what had not seemed obvious to most of the others was very clear to Alissa; he appreciated that.

"Heh... thank you." Travis responded in kind. "Listen... my apologies if I was a bother; getting shaken up happens to all of us, it's one of the few things that never changes about combat."

And then, of course, Grace was right back to her usual antics.

(So she stole the personal belongings of this ship's commanding officer; as always, it is at times difficult to tell whether she's simply three steps ahead or three steps off the deep end.) Travis sighed, shaking his head as Grace went off. Good luck to her, he supposed. If Raynor got angry and decided to throw her in the brig for stealing his personal possessions (how she managed that during all that chaos was a mystery in itself), it was her own fault; they were guests in unknown space, and he wasn't too keen on being left in unknown space.

Shaking himself from that personal musing, Travis decided that he could ill afford to ponder the ramifications of his acts on board the Claymore; there would be time for reflection later, Good Lord willing. He walked over with his helmet still tucked under his forearm, now deciding to add his own input to the discussion. It was the commanding officer from the comms, during their harrowing escape.

"Well Captain, if you don't mind mind I have a few things to say to you. First," Travis nodded, offering his free right hand in greeting. "thank you once again for saving our lives; we owe you no small debt to be sure.

"My name is," Travis thought for a moment; he supposed it would be alright to use his name, here among friends. Besides, what was the point in hiding that information? "Is Travis Clark; we spoke over comms not too long ago. I wanted to ask two things of you; to start, would you be alright with sharing any star charts of the nearby systems with us? I don't know how much you know of our, uh... situation, but it would be a help to us for certain. Not that I intend on going anywhere for the time being, if that's alright with you and the Commander."
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~Alissa~
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Alissa was pleased that her attempts to offer perspective to Travis had worked. Given her difficulty navigating human emotion on a good day she was never sure when she should or should not say something , but in this case she felt compelled to share her perspective, if only to help keep the ghosts of those people from haunting Travis.

And then Grace was off and causing chaos; which Alissa was beginning to stem from some mental illness rather than any conscious thought on her part. Grace seemed to be wandering off to find the commander of the ship they had taken refuge on (huge even by the coalition standards), which honestly suited Alissa just fine, the chaotic convict was getting on her nerves to the point she was considering just shooting the woman and dealing with whatever fallout came afterward.

“if we did not retrieve the artifact we may need to return to the Pirate vessel to retrieve it” she said quietly “it would be helpful for us to know where that is” though frankly the notion of returning to space filled with those creatures even for a moment was unpleasant to say the least, that coupled with the still lingering effects of the initial energy wave from the object that had brought them to this…universe? Was enough to make her unhappy with the prospect.
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The sound of a single gunshot greeted the hunters as they boarded the ship. It had come from the rear of the cabin, obscured by the curtain. The state of the ship and the fact that nobody on board flinched told the hunters all they needed to know.

Grace followed behind them, smiling and nodding at the guard, McLowry, like nothing had happened. Didn't stop him from patting her down and divesting her of all the weapons she had acquired. "I get those back if I leave the ship, right?"

"You're lucky we don't throw you in lockdown. Now get outta my face."

"You know what, you're right," she said, putting her arms down. "I really should get something bigger. Those zerg things are pretty nasty."

Undaunted, she ran off to catch up with the others. Travis was already talking to a man in a sharp military uniform, though it wasn't from any military she knew of. He was a natural leader. Such was the respect that he commanded amongst his peers, they always fell behind him. And given that his peers were bounty hunters, a group of people known for being fiercely and often aggressively independent, that was certainly saying something.

"...thank you once again for saving our lives; we owe you no small debt to be sure."

Grace went right past them and flopped right back down in her old seat as the two men conversed. "So you managed not to get eaten," said her teenage seatmate. She ignored the girl, due to the sudden realization that Jenosa was standing just a few feet away.

She tried to smile at the other woman, but it quickly faded under the weight of Jenosa's stink eye. So instead she sank back into her seat, in no mood for a fight. In fact, preemptively conceding defeat to a superior opponent whom she knew was in the right.

So as Grace pondered all the various ways that Jenosa Arma could kill her, she found herself admiring the redhead's weapons. These after all would most certainly be the instruments of her death, so may as well get familiar with them. The Gemini was a sick little puppy, and exceedingly rare. Even Jimmy had trouble getting his hands on them. More common, and more appealing to Grace, were the tactical pistols in her shoulder holsters. Fitted with custom grips, from the look of them. In fact...

"Those are mine," Grace said. "Where did you get them?"
Edited by The Boss, Jul 19 2014, 02:31 PM.
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