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| Vergo Flux (SC RP); It's a working title | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 1 2011, 02:28 PM (8,269 Views) | |
| +CEMP+ | Jun 1 2017, 09:41 PM Post #211 |
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Clockwork Master
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Lenna Kensa - Agent of the Dominion - had a duty to perform. She knew that. It was her vowed job to protect the Dominion and it's people from threats, as well as identify new ones. She knew well enough that she had to follow protocol. What other path was there? She could not just simply abaondon her duty And here she was, adhearing to it. As best as she could, because in everyway, she knew how the scene would play out. She knew who'd they target. Yet, even knowing that they'd be incapacitating Ghelm, she felt her thump as he fell down, and without thinking at all, she found hereself turning to his limp form on the floor. A flurry of thoughts and concerns buzzed through her head, wondering if Ghelm was actually alright. Hoping that he had sustained nothing serious. Ho- A C-10 rifle barked in mid air beside her head, it's round aimed right at Alissa's body. Even as the other Ghost's cloak was disrupted, the round would be enough to knock Alissa of course from her target. All the while, through unseen coordination, jumped back, almost surprised yet staying ahead of Alissa, jumped back. And quickly fired his own C-10 rifle. The noise and commotion was enough to make Lenna snap out, along with the voice that yammered into her head, Agent, what are you doing. You're thoughts are scattered. Lenna snapped back her head toward's the Ghost's general direction, whom she assumed was the one that fired the first C-10. In that moment, a thought crystalized in her mind, and got sent out back to the Ghost. What I was always doing? My duty. Now give me a hand gun. It appears we need surprise on our side. Even as she thought this, though - even as she felt certainty at what she had chosen, she felt a rock form in the pit of her stomach. ============= "I'm afraid you'd be looking at the wrong person," came a deep, African voice from behind Travis, Tychus and Grace. There, just appearing out of nowhere without a sound, was the very guy who had given Travis the creeps. His name was Tosh, and he wore an armor that was eerily similar to the assassin's that had attached him. Except it had sinister, red lines running down it, it was black, and had a triangular, red skull on one shoulder. And a few 'voodoo' trinkets worn against it. He also had a big rifle similar to the Gauss rifles, although it wasn't pointed at them. "Don't waste your bullets chasing them, or me," he said, "because who you should be looking for is that black haired woman with you. Y'know who I mean. The one chatting with, what's her name, Alissa?". |
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"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~ | Jun 1 2017, 10:25 PM Post #212 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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"Damn it, Tosh, do you have a death wish...?" Tychus growled as he whirled around, only to lower his firearm as he realized it was a friendly face following them. "Next time, use a regular greeting, like anyone else." Make that friendly faces, as two other similarly clad Ghosts decloaked next to Tosh, saluting him. "We've begun scrubbing the boarding Dominion agents coming on-board, boss, although we found the handiwork of this guy just down the hall." The agent seemed to look at Travis with a look of admiration. "Didn't even have to let off a round and you nearly put that Dominion agent through the wall. I don't know who you are, but you're brutally efficient." Was that supposed to be a compliment? Travis thought to himself. He didn't think so; he had been forced to defend himself and break a woman's neck, and he never enjoyed dealing death. Regardless... it was, indeed, him; the same man who had been staring at Travis in the cantina, as though looking right through him. Indeed, his unusually pale eyes gave that same impression: that Travis was being probed and searched, despite the mental conditioning on Cocytus that had long ago made him resistant to attempts by telepaths to intrusively probe his thoughts, attempts that were made far more difficult if Travis were employing techniques relayed to him by his peers. And then, without any prompting, the pale-eyed man was using Alissa's name with almost a seeming air of familiarity, as though he had known Alissa as Travis had. Was he reading their minds again...? Or something else? "What are you talking about...?" Travis asked as he peered at Tosh's unpupiled eyes. "What do you know and what can we do?" Probably more than you'd be willing to share of your own accord, Travis thought to himself. He didn't care that Tosh may have possibly picked up on passing thoughts; he didn't like the ominous edge to Tosh's voice that hinted of danger. Edited by Deadly Aim, Jun 2 2017, 12:43 AM.
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| ~Alissa~ | Jun 6 2017, 06:41 PM Post #213 |
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***systems initialization in progress….please stand by*** “now….work now! I cannot see!” Thea screamed at the subsystems as they came online, whatever the attack had been it had blinded her to the outside world. She knew Alissa was under attack, and she could do nothing to help till her secondary systems finished their diagnostics ***systems initialization in progress….please stand by*** “AHHHHHHHH!” the AI raged against her temporary confines ***receiving telemetry from operative Biocomp and neural monitoring. Alert: stage one safety is removed, operative is now operating at 50% ability*** The AI let out a simulated held breath, stage one meant Alissa had engaged but had not sustained damage, or been stressed to a degree as to require more neural kinetics ***Alert: Stage two Safty is removed, operative is operating at 75% ability, Alert: Operative is in combat without tactical armor, Alert Operative has been damaged by a projectile weapon*** Thea blinked “……systems status…” ***shields 100%, Scanners: online, life support: online tactical AI interface: online….* Outside the shields around the blackbird reasserted themselves with an electrostatic snap as the ship lifted onto its anti-grav skids, and a pair of turreted cannons appeared as the vessel began to slowly turn in place. Anything with sensors would know the ship was actively looking for adversaries. Alissa had been hit, really she had been grazed, as fast as she had been in the moment before the shot it had been difficult to say the least. Alissa is fast under normal situations and tends to change directions suddenly and without easily understood patterns. Somewhere after being shot she found even more speed but her tactic changed, as she saw her ship activate she knew she needed to get too it, to get to her armor, but right now she was keeping the one attacker she knew about between her and where the shots had come from, switching her pistol to full auto for a moment and sending out an arc of blue green Ions in an attempt to hit the other, even just a graze would disrupt shields and cloaks for a time. Thea’s voice would call out over a secure channel to Jenosa and Travis, the two she knew Alissa trusted. “The operative is under attack….Alissa is under attack, she’s been shot, two enemies with active cloaks, potentially more” |
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| ~The Silver Fox~ | Jun 19 2017, 11:41 PM Post #214 |
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Just your friendly neighborhood Section 2 agent!
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Kathi had a lot to think about. Jenosa's story was one thing. There were always tall tales about the things bounty hunters got up to - especially about the things Samus might be doing after her disappearance - and all sorts of tales of the things that lurked in the vast blackness of space. What the redhead told her might have just been a horrific annecdote in the life of bounty hunters, had it not been for the fact Kathi had litterally seen her corpse. She left the conversation with her feelings mixed and her thoughts racing. Admiration for her spirit and drive, humbled by the fact the woman had truly trusted her with such a personal part of her life...and abject terror. The mere thought of the Scurge warring in her mind brought forth flashbacks of her own madness. It was all too easy to imagine how much worse it could be. It also left her with a strange, largely indescribable sensation. The closest she could come to properly drescribing it was the lingering sensation of...something else, floating at the edge of her awareness. In truth, it was probably just a simple trick of her brain that slipped through the chemicals coursing through her system, a tiny halucinatory sensation that would eventually pass when she stopped dweling on the idea of the Scurge. The "odd couple" was of course another thing she had to think about, considering. Not nearly as much, of course, but they were a welcome distraction from the existential questions plaguing her thanks to the other issues, from Jenosa to multiverse theory. Even if Lenna probably hated how often she tried to keep an eye on the two of them. The most recent thing, however, took major prescedence. Being boarded and shot at had a tendency to take one's mind off other problems. So, she grabbed the other revolver her brother had "acquired" for her. It was a massive, beautiful custom piece named Hawkmoon, its silver barrel intricately engraved with detailed feathers, and the butt of the grip terminating in a wicked spike. The handcannon's weight rested somewhat uncomfortably in her grip, unused to such a heavy pistol as she was. In many respects, it wasn't even truly a revolver, using a complex cylinder to form rounds out of a semi-programmable ferrous compound, accelerated with Gaussian coils in the barrel. Between an intended feedback loop and quirks in the design, every third shot hit with almost twice the power of the first two rounds individually. More than enough to shatter the visor of a Terran battle suit. Assuming I can actually hit them with it, she groused to herself as her third shot, thrown off by recoil, glanced off the side of the Dominion marine's helmet. She ducked back behind a corner as he and his two squadmates directed their oversized assault rifles her way and let loose a thundering burst. In such a fight, her own combat harness, designed to ablate against plasma and harden against small arms fire, seemed almost woefully inadequate in comparison. Maybe I should have spent the extra money on shields instead of guns for the ship, she mused, all too focused on the sounds of bullets flying past her. She'd been in shootouts before, but never this big. Someone could probably sneak up on me and I'd be none the wiser, what with the "weather". Her eyes glanced up and down the halls she could see at that thought, but didn't catch anything. I can only hope it stays that way, she thought, a lull in the firing giving her an opportunity to squeeze off a few more shots, putting one marine down just as another took his place. Oh, for fuck's sake- ------------------- Getting to know the research team - though describing the two doctors as a "team" was a bit disingenuous - had been going fine. Between the doctor and the scientist, they'd taken to her advice on cybernetics surprisingly quickly, even if this universe's terran technology wasn't quite up to par with the elegance of her own implants. She'd even been learning about the science behind the protoss and the zerg more, at least, as far as that science made sense. She did however internally resolve to never attempt experimentation on zerg flesh again without a full lab to back her up, and considered herself lucky that her results had been what they were. Then some assholes in power armor decided to show up. Chel twisted, turning herself about as she dashed through one of the marines. As he looked down at himself in confusion, she thrust her hands forward, pulsing the phase disruptors in her palms. A flash of purple launched forward, the energy phase shifting six inches out, just barely inside the marine's suit. Normally, phase disruption pulses just hit with kinetic and thermal force on an impact point. Phasing in while inside a chunk of solid matter, though? The marine screamed as a good chunk of his abdomen was pulped by the burst, hands clutching at his stomach through the armor as he fell to the ground, unable to stand. Messy, inefficient, and a painful way to go. She really wished she had the Fury, or even just her actual combat harness instead of just the boots and shoulder thrusters. The gun back in Kathi's ship would be nice too, but at least she was perpetually armed with something. Speaking of weaponry... she thought to herself as she practically skated around the corner, bringing Travis, Grace, Travis, and...the creepy guy with the dreadlocks, into view. She had been intending to ask Travis something rather important should the zerg show up again, but, well, other things had gotten her attention and...now wasn't exactly the time. "Clark!" she shouted as she rushed forward, "Glad to finally see a friendly face in these halls. We know what these cunts are after yet?" The situation had her decidedly annoyed, enough for a bit of nationally-favored profanity to leak out. |
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Once, there was a maiden... ...whose tears of grief nearly drowned the world. So she tore out her heart, and made war against it. In victory, she sealed it in a locket, and trapped in a casting of bronze. "Such is the price of unguarded emotion," she said. | |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Jun 22 2017, 01:10 PM Post #215 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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At first, everyone grew quiet as the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls could be heard coming down a nearby hallway. Travis took the initiative and hugged against a wall, bracing his Fenris to bring into a firing position at a moment's notice. Tosh and his men took to the shadows and activated what appeared to be some kind of cloaking device (likely similar to that of the Dominion's ghost operatives, Travis reasoned), and Grace and Tychus shuffled themselves back behind a tarped cargo box, out of sight from whomever was approaching. When the footsteps drew close, Travis whirled around the corner and aimed down the sight, before holding up a hand signal to the rest of the group to hold their fire before lowering his own weapon. "Chel!" Travis exclaimed, letting his breath loose as Chel explained herself and Tosh and his men decloaked themselves, lowering their weapons. "Sorry for the scare, we weren't sure if you were friend or foe. Being honest with you, I have only a vague idea of why the Dominion is boarding us, but it's safe to say that there is no love lost between Commander Raynor's crew here and the Dominion." Travis quickly noticed something as he examined Chel's person: She wasn't armed. How on earth did she managed to get down here, unarmed much less??? Half of the ship is probably on lockdown right now. It would be a different story for another time, Travis reasoned; right now, they had other priorities, namely Alissa Achilles' well-being. "Here," Travis reached towards his leg, where a compartment on the armor opened up to show a pistol, which he then handed to Chel; it wasn't his Federation standard magnum from his service days (which was in the other leg compartment), but instead an FSI-PCPP-04 Kleinbyte Hard Plasma Pistol that ran off of an auto-recharging, self-managing reactor. Travis figured, given his assessment of Korpulu technology thus far, it would be adequate enough to punch through the visor panels and thinner parts of the CMC-series power armors he saw these guys running around in; it wasn't like their suits deployed shielding fields like his, and from an internal examination, Travis knew that the materials and performance were no where near in the neighborhood of the Federation's BDAUs or his own. "I know that it's not much, but it's something." Just as things seemed be settling down, however, a semi-distorted transmission began filtering into Travis' ears, who held up a hand to stop everyone from moving forward. [KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRFT- "Operative is-"] Thea's panicked voice was barely audible through the static and disruption; she didn't have a firm fix on Travis' position. [KRRRRFT- "Attack….Alissa-" -KRFFFFFFFFFFT - "been shot, two -" KRRRRRRRRRRFT - "active cloaks, potentially" - KRRRRRRRRRRRRRRFT] I barely heard that, but from what I'm hearing, that already doesn't sound good. "Isn't that signal coming from Thea, Constantine...?" Travis mumbled to the GI, who had no doubt been keeping tabs on him as he actively aided Captain Horner by freeing up the adjutants. "I know you're stretched a little thin right now controlling two ships, old man, but I need you to get a lock on on Thea's signal." ["I'll... I'll try!"] Constantine replied to Travis, the strain evident in his voice: operating the the targeting and weaponry systems of two larger vessels was getting to be hard on him. ["Just put out the fire in the starboard engine room. I just need to find her, lock the secquence down, and - THERE! You've a secure line of contact!"] "Thea?" Travis inquired into his comms. "Thea, can you hear me? I just heard your message; if Alissa's been shot, I'm going to need you to guide me to her position. You can do this, okay? I know you can." Travis turned to look up to Tosh on the second floor catwalks. "Seems like you were right. Tosh, was it...? I'd like to get to know you once the fire settles down and we tend to the fallen." Travis then turned to address the rest of the group. "Listen up: Alissa Achilles has been shot, and I wouldn't be surprised if there are others with her who got caught blindsided by the Dominion boarders. Let's get them out that mess. I'll be on point. Grace, can you cover my six? Tychus, how about you bring up the rear, big man? We need to move, and move quickly; there's no telling how bad Alissa's injuries are, and I don't have any doubt there are more injured with her." "Heh... well get a load of this, Tosh; the kid knows how to actually function and give orders out in the field." Tychus grinned as he puffed out a ring of smoke from his cigar before his armor's visor clamped shut once again. "Alright, let's get on it. Lead the way if you know it, point man." "Thea, lead the way." Edited by Deadly Aim, Jun 22 2017, 01:10 PM.
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| ~The Boss~ | Jul 14 2017, 08:05 PM Post #216 |
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Native Son
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Grace was about to make a characteristically smartass remark about watching Travis's six. But something stopped her, forced her to hold her tongue against every instinct she had. She'd listened to Travis bark orders at the rest of them. He certainly sounded confident and in charge; a man of action forged in the fires of combat. Even Tychus seemed to respect him a bit more now. But still, this felt wrong. And it wasn't hard to figure out why. "Alright, fuck this," she said, abandoning the plan almost immediately. She ran up to the front and turned around to face Travis. "Stop!" she said, putting a hand on his chest. "Stop. I'm not going anywhere. Nobody's going anywhere. Not yet." Her eyes bore into him. There was a fire burning in there that even Travis had to know would consume him if he wasn't careful. |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Jul 14 2017, 08:27 PM Post #217 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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At first, Travis almost moved to sidestep Grace on pure instinct. His mind was a machine focused on saving his friend and comrade's life. However, he stopped short of doing this when Grace forcefully placed a hand upon the Gabrielite Suit's chestpiece and he took note of the flickering fire in Grace's eyes. Something that had been said or done had set her on edge. Rather than be barbed, Travis decided inquiry was the best course of action. "What's wrong, Grace?" Travis spoke calmly and with a level tone, careful not to be combative. "Speak your mind." |
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| ~The Boss~ | Jul 14 2017, 09:59 PM Post #218 |
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Native Son
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"You're freaking out. I can tell. Don't even try to deny it. You try to hide it behind a cool, strategic exterior, but you don't fool me. I see right through you, and I think you know it." Grace had been in this situation before. Funny thing was, most of the time the stakes were no higher than the outcome of a basketball game. Not exactly a matter of life and death. But that didn't mean that emotions couldn't get the better of you. Or that past failures couldn't haunt you to the point where it negatively affected your performance in the present day. "I know what you're thinking," she said. "I know exactly what your thinking. Alissa's your friend, someone you care about. And you've seen far too many people you care about get cut down. Starting with your old man. Doesn't matter if it wasn't your fault, or if you did everything you could. You carry that weight like you're motherfucking Atlas holding up the world. Something happens to Alissa, and you'll just put yourself through that whole ordeal all over again. And you'll brood and mourn and you'll blame yourself. I know you're not Catholic, but you sure as hell carry guilt like one. "And you know what? That guilt might end up getting us all killed. Cause this isn't about Alissa. It's about your dad. And your Marine buddies. And your sister. Yeah.. I know about her. Her old crew mates work for Jimmy now. Don't look so surprised, Travis. They're crooks, just like him. "But I digress. Point is, whether you admit it or not, whether you even realize it or not, you're letting your emotions get the better of you. And when people let their emotions get the better of them, bad things happen" Grace vividly remembered those moments when she lost control. When her coach took her out of a game for taking too many bad shots in a desperate attempt to either win the game by herself or dig herself out of a slump. Or when Henry stopped her from driving to Giovanni's house in a fit of rage so she could kill him herself. Pissed off as she was, Henry was right, and her coaches were right. "Sic transit gloria mundi. Stop burying the dead. Or else you'll never be at peace. So we're not taking another step until you calm the hell down." She stepped back and spread her arms out, as if she were meditating. "Take your helmet off," she said. "Close your eyes... and breathe. Just breathe." She followed suit. "You too, Blondie," she said, directed at Chel. "And you too, Tiny. Everybody, close your eyes and breathe." |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Jul 22 2017, 07:44 AM Post #219 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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The perception of Grace Callahan, both physical and mental, was legendary. And once again, while not right on target, it was still very close. While he wasn't quite freaking out, there was a sense of hastiness to Travis' steps. What she had said was also the truth; Travis had seen much death in his relatively short life. Some would argue that it was far too much if they knew the scope of it. Comrades, commanders and brothers in arms, two of his closest friends, his own flesh and blood, even his own enemies of target and circumstance. Though he made an effort to try and not be burdened by it through his Christian faith, the truth was that Travis struggled with the guilt... and had never fully gotten over it. The truth was, while the death of Travis' father had always been an initial driver to his life, the urgency and purpose that drove his steps now were that of a man seeking to hastily save his friends and loved ones. Perhaps, when one loses so many close to them, they want to hold on even tighter and with more urgency. Combine that with the weight of losing those close to them and sometimes witnessing death or grievous injury of personally close parties just feet from where one stood, and it could lead to a mindset such as that belonging to Travis Clark: a man who sought what many deemed impossible, always trying to bare more weight than what really belonged to him. Or, in Grace's colorful wording: like Atlas trying to hold up the world. Travis hadn't been thinking of his own father right now, but now that Grace reminded him, he could practically hear his father's grated baritone in his head: "Work smarter, not harder, Travis. Brains over brawn." And if he were alive right now, Gunther Clark would likely be grabbing him from the shoulder and calming him down a similar way that Grace was now trying to do... while giving him a loving rebuke about haste being dangerous on the battlefield. Travis was a Marine and a Commando, after all; he knew better. And, as Grace pointed out, that haste was slightly clouding Travis' decision making and judgement. For one thing... he was rushing forward and dragging everyone with him, forgetting that only two of them sported any sort of armor, and more importantly that he wasn't alone. Perhaps the legend of the indomitable chrome-clad, bounty hunting crusader that Zebesians told ghost stories to one another over was no good for him; it made him forget that he had friends and allies to lean on and that he wasn't alone in this venture. There was a slight hiss of air and a click as Travis removed the Gabrielite Suit's helmet, revealing his face to all present; some of the Hyperion crew marveled at the fact that Travis was so young, but he ignored that. Travis breathed in, helm tucked under his right shoulder, bowed his head... and prayed. Father.... if it is Your will, I ask that you please watch over me and my companions as we go to save Alissa. Father, I know even here in a universe strange to me, in the deepest and darkest reaches of space, You can hear me and reach me, even here, for there is no place in time or space that is beyond Your power and glory; indeed, all of creation is under Your authority. I... I struggle with guilt so much, Father. It's made me a hard man, a man of action and at times a man desperate; and sometimes, an ill-suited messenger of the Gospel proclaimed by Your only begotten Son. Please, Father, help me be a good witness even here in the Korpulu Sector. And please, guide our hands and our aim and our sword arms as we go to save the lives of our friends and comrades. Please help us deal justly with the enemy. In Your name... amen. And with what had been only a few moments, Travis exhaled, and when he opened his eyes, they seemed just as full of fire but calm and focused like a straight bolt of lightning. He then took a step forward... and gently hugged Grace. "Thank you, Grace." He rumbled. "I needed that. I'm too used to going it alone." Travis then stepped back and with a click and hiss, the Gabrielite Suit's HUD was in his vision once again. "Ahem." The rumble of Tychus' voice came from behind, Tychus himself puffing on more smoke than a small locomotive. "We done with kumbayah time yet, kids...? We've got Dominion ghosts to kill, if memory serves." |
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| ~The Boss~ | Jul 27 2017, 06:58 PM Post #220 |
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Native Son
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Once again, in what felt like a ritual by now, Grace rolled her eyes at Tychus. "It's not about Kumbaya, Meatslab," she sneered. "It's about focus. It's about mental toughness. It's about clearing your mind of all... You know what, forget it. It's probably far too complicated for you to understand. Besides, it's not like there's a whole lot going on up in there, right?" She bent down and started untying her shoes. "There's more to combat than shooting and grunting," she said to anyone who cared to listen. "Your head's gotta be in the game. Distractions mean death." Shoes off, she pulled off her socks as she went on. "Man, I really wish I had some old Apache wisdom from my ancestors to dispense here... but my mom was a Buddhist." She handed her shoes with her socks balled up inside to Tychus. "Here, hold these for me, will ya?" With that, she scampered off ahead, completely disregarding Travis's plan. ................... The Dominion soldier didn't hear a sound. All he saw was a hand covering his face, pulling his head back, and then a blade slicing through his throat. Travis came around the corner just in time to see Grace wiping the blood from her knife and looking as chill as could be. There was a time when she wouldn't have been so relaxed about it. Back when she was a teenager, back when Henry and Gio were at war. She hadn't been born a killer, she'd had to learn, and it hadn't been easy. But she was a quick study. "Down there," she said. Right below them was where Alissa had been pinned down. "Hang tight. You'll know it when you see it... and not a second before." She swung herself over the ledge, and she was gone. ................... "You've still got her all wrong, kid." Jimmy Vega sat on the bed in Grace's loft, the place she came to get away from him, and now that she was in the can, the place where Jimmy kept his merch. He was fiddling with the Fenris that was soon to belong to Travis while the boy stood by, examining a plasma rifle. "You're still thinking of her like she's this devious schemer when you should be thinking of her like a wild animal. No wait... shouldn't be talking about an Indian girl like that should I? She's like... She's like a force of nature. You can't control her, can't resist her, and don't even try. And you can't judge her by the normal standards of human behavior. She exists entirely on her own plane. All you can do is just get out of the way and just go with it." ................... A small round metal object bounced across the floor a few yeards in front of Alissa. Once it came to a stop, it emitted a thick could of smoke that shrouded the entire area. If Alissa saw anything with the naked eye, it was an orange-clad humanoid figure seemingly falling out of the sky and landing on the back of her nearest assailant. And then the sound of said assailant seemingly choking on his own blood. It would seem the cavalry had arrived |
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2:55 PM Jul 11