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Vergo Flux (SC RP); It's a working title
Topic Started: Jul 1 2011, 02:28 PM (8,285 Views)
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Clockwork Master

(OOC: A little autoing with permission from Jedi)

For all her cheery, social attitude, Jenosa had, on a dime, become an incredibly fierce, unflinching, female warrior. If this was perhaps a firefight against a few intelligent opponents, or a simple critter clean up, she might of held her trademark enthusiastic grin as she enjoyed the brush with danger, but it wasn't; it was an unrelenting onslaught against ugly, dangerous, chittering beasts that not only threatened the hunters but the civilians as well.

Adrenaline literally rushed through her veins, the palms of her gauntlets alight with searing flame, as as she fought about with the grace of an acrobat; her pony tail whipped about like a streamer as she shifted, strafed and backflipped away from her attackers all the while she - even in mid-air - threw giant embers of conflagration at them. How she accomplished this in such fluid thought and motion - all the while taking our clusters of 3 to almost 6 of the beasts - seemed almost inhuman; and while that wasn't entirely untrue, most of it was due to quick thinking and the suit itself.

The prototype Combat Environment (Or CEV) bio-suit armor she wore, despite its technological, inorganic appearance, felt like a natural extension of herself. It was the basis of how all bio-suits worked, true, with wearer being able to intuitively control a set of intergrated systems via thought without any physical connection between the circuits and the nervous system. But this was more so for her; she didn't just command certain parts of it, she was it. The interweaving circuits as if her veins and the energy running through the her blood; the blue armor sections as if her skin yet tough; and the act of coiling energys through out her gauntlets like flexing a well-toned muscle. It all felt organic to her; it hadn't been how the suit had been designed, rather it was how it alone had...developed over the long years.

Or...how she had developed. She was never sure which was which.

Regardless, the fight was beginning to take a toll, mainly with her gauntlets; they over heating, and somehow it translated to a sensation reminscent to muscle fatigue. She had to be careful and conserve her energy, and not only that, but the beasts were getting smarter; they avoiding staying too close whenever possible and occaisonally tried to flank her. A kind of intelligence that had uncanny familiarity - almost like something, or someone, was seeing through the eyes of these beasts. Almost unnerving.

Thankfully, to her relief, not only had every other hunter began to pitch in, but the hangers began to close, albiet slowly. she analyzed the sitautions: the hunter team were essentially making a pile of grotesque bodies. She wondered how they were going to clean the place when the exact in how struck her, and she smirked. With a few steps forward, she flicked a fireball right at the pile, and there was sastisfaction as she saw it flash into a bonfire that completely covered the span of the hanger's entrance. Any critter landing there was effectively barbeque, and it had essnetially taken out all the-

Underneath the flame, metal bend and screeched, and bursting out from the floor like it were dirt, only a few feet away, was somekind of giant bug. It held a chitenous similarity to the two other creatures that had attacked, but held the resemblance of a beetle that was the size of a dune buggy and almost reached her height. At the front of it's carapace shell were two forearm 'scythes', and poking out of the shell like a turtle was a grotesque face with beety eyes.

And it puked a burst of green acid like a fire hose that, having caught her off guard, nailing her square in the abdomen. She seethed - not entirely in seering pain but in the 'stress' she felt across her suit - as she tossed a fireball that barely left singe across its shell. Too armored for the combustion setting, she quickly concluded, and in realizing this, she swore, out everyone here, she was being tested by these things. Like...they - it? - were actively seeing what she could do.

Well here's what she could do. A quick swap on the setting and a dodge, three orb or purple, pulsing orbs of energy launched from her right gauntlet and stuck to the bug like glue. Barely two seconds later they all exploded, pulzeriving the critter to bits. She surveyed the hanger for anymore survivors and surprises, but amongst all the ashes and chared corpses, there were none. With everyone else doing clean-up, her gaze turned about to check the civilians.

Her smile of sastisfaction dissapeared.

There was a cluster of people surrounding an injured woman. There was blood all over the floor. Lots. And then her heart sank as she recognized who the woman was.

"VOREE!" she cried out.
Edited by CEMP, Feb 11 2013, 11:32 AM.
"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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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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(OOC: Presuming much here by my surmising of the last line, please advise if I'm in the wrong.)

The shrieking of Jenosa's voice immediately set Travis on edge, turning to greet the commotion.

If the stony, flattened brows behind his currently depolarizing visor were any indication, he certainly didn't like what he was seeing, at all.

It appeared that Voree had never managed to make it out in all the confusion; upon the floor, surrounded by the Claymore's crew, the captain laid nearly dead in a pool of her own blood. The zerg had not spared her as well as anyone else who couldn't evacuate the hangar on time, if the mangled and brutally dismembered human corpses strewn along the floor were any indicator.

By those standards, the captain had been fortunate in a macabre sense.

Travis clenched a fist at his side, saddling his Fenris over his shoulder and walked over to the gathered group.

He couldn't help but note the defiant look in Voree's eyes, a pistol clenched in her hands.

He had to hand it to her... the woman had a strong will to live.

"... I don't think I even need to say it, but I will. Get her out of here. Take care of your captain." He finally started as he paused before speaking.

Travis looked out into the stars beyond the hangar shields, noting the impending approach of another wave of pods.

Alissa was right, they -had- to get out of here; they'd all become exhausted before they'd ever fight the zerg off...!

Of course, the question is, where could they possibly go...? If the protoss were right, then this wasn't the Milky Way they knew and loved; it may well be that Earth wasn't even in the same place in this reality if they were to be believed, or if Earth still exists.

"Constantine... if you can, dock inside the main landing bay, and contact the bridge. Tell them to shut the hangar doors and engage the shields to maximum power; we need to stall the zerg as long as we can." He said, eyeing the battling zerg and protoss forces. He had -never- seen ships that worked quite like those, but he was not about to ponder it; not here, anyway.

"Listen up, “He said, eying the crew of the Claymore gathered around their captain's wounded frame. "I know I'm not everyone's favorite man on board this ship, but until your CO is able to say otherwise, do exactly as I say if you want to live through this. If we don't work together, we -will- die here."

He relaxed, sighing if just to drain the tension from his chest.

Voree was badly injured, and the whole mess was leaving the crew in chaos.

Travis knew they had to do -something-, but what...!?

"Cathy?" He fiddled through the comms, hoping they both were receiving right now. "You alive?"

"And how about you two? You both okay?" He whispered gently to Alissa and Jenosa, placing a friendly hand upon the redhead's shoulder before quickly retracting it. "This whole ordeal has to be taking a lot out of everyone, even you two."

Travis' narrowed his eyes as the crew began to gently carry Voree's heavily wounded body.

It was taking much from everybody, indeed.

============

Meanwhile, outside the cruiser, Constantine was finishing up perhaps the most frantic dogfight of his short and digital life.

While the battle had been going on, he had analyzed what he could of the mysterious aggressive creatures called the Zerg.

It was clear, judging from his scans and preliminary findings, that somehow, all of these creatures were related on a genetic level… and yet not. From the way they acted, it was very clear that the zerg were organisms with some type of hive mind hierarchy; every creature that he had seen or scorched to ashes had a role of some kind; but that wasn’t what bothered him.

What bothered Constantine, truthfully, was how these creatures seemed to move and attack with seemingly sentient savagery, intellect and aggression. He’d battle one flock of the leather-winged creatures – for now, he’d simply call them zerg raptors – and suddenly three more would appear behind him, as if they were somehow communicating – which should be impossible, considering they were in the vacuum of space!

That raised another question; how could these creatures possibly withstand the vacuum of space unprotected? Unlike Travis and the other living occupants on all the nearby friendly vessels, the Zerg seemed completely immune to the effects of space upon living tissue.

How this was even possible didn’t surprise Constantine, but considering the various creatures he had seen deployed thus far through Travis’ sensors and from his own special engagements, it troubled him.

What in God’s galaxy were the zerg?

Exerting his will, Constantine carefully backed the Thunderwolf into the much larger Claymore. Thankfully for him, he found that there was still room to boot; it’s not like the Thunderwolf was a truly massive frigate to begin with; big enough for a small crew, a small personal residence, and a hangar for two or three gunships.

===========

Soon afterwards, more klaxons sounded throughout the ship. Panic ensued on the bridge as nav and comm officers scrambled to figure out what the issue was as they relayed battle damage and tactical solutions throughout the Claymore.

[“Forgive the intrusion, gentlemen, but those hangar doors need to be shut, now.”] Constantine’s voice reverberated throughout the bridge, half the crew seeming to breathe a sigh of relief as the klaxons died down and the sudden influx of foreign data code relinquished itself from the ship's servers.

Throughout the entire vessel the hangar bay doors could be heard creaking shut and locking, power being diverted to the cruiser’s shielding to brace and hopefully repel more boarding pods; it appeared that the bridge had received Constantine's message.

Another message cut through the channels to the bridge shortly after.

[“This is bounty hunter Deadeye Clark, can anybody up there patch us through to the protoss vessels? We should get map data from them, if at all possible; even if they can't, we need to get the heck out of here; make a blind jump if we have to. It's... most of the troops aren't going to last another massive wave of these things. Oh, and Captain Voree is not in good shape. She'll live, though; we got to her in time.”]
Edited by Deadly Aim, Feb 11 2013, 10:33 PM.
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"Believe me, there's nothing I'd love more than to airlock your ass," Grace replied, still with that quiet but hard tone. "But... sure. Agreed." She was about to extend her hand, but hesitated. She didn't even want to get that close to Twilight, let alone shake his hand. "I'll go tell the guards."

She took her leave and headed back to the upper deck, trying not to walk away at too quick a pace and thus betray just how afraid of the Darkling she really was. As she ascended the staircase, she came across the headless guard again. She walked passed him, then stopped and turned back, bending down to grab his handcuffs. Best return the way she came, rather than give the screws any excuse at all to lose their shit. So she slipped the cuffs on, knowing she could get free again if she needed to.

Then she noticed his sidearm.

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

Back in her seat, where she wanted to be in the first place (actually, where she really wanted to be was back in her cell at Roknar, or even better, back in her apartment on Earth), Grace leaned back and tried to drift off again, knowing that was probably impossible right now. She had told the guards what had transpired below deck, and a few of them had gone down there to let Twilight know that he was free to leave his cell for the time being, so long as he could help them out and there was no funny business.

Up there in the cabin, things had calmed down considerably. Fortunately, the male inmates were far too spooked to try and take advantage of the situation, either that or they had far more sense than Grace had given them credit for. As for the guards, they along with Steinman were still tending to the wounded men. Everyone was far too preoccupied to notice the slight bulge down near Grace's ankle. Hopefully, they'd leave her alone for the rest of the trip, and once they got rescued she could discard the piece without anyone the wiser.
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Just your friendly neighborhood Section 2 agent!
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(OOC: I'd provide a publishing date, but I'd rather not make too many assumptions about where exactly in the timeline this RP fits, seeing as the RE timeline's not exactly a static entity)

Laurence-Holtzman Immulsion (LHI) is a rather interesting substance. Synthesized from several highly toxic predecessor compounds, it retains only a fraction of the hazard associated with them.

Entirely inorganic, LHI is nonetheless notable for several of its unique properties. It is a radiative substance, with emission peaks in the yellow-orange range of visible light, as well as large quantities of infrared and ultraviolet radiation, but can nonetheless be safely handled with minimal radiation shielding, most of which must be dedicated to resisting the large quantities of heat that unconstrained LHI emits. While the fumes are highly toxic and carcinogenic, they also have a half-life of approximately three seconds before decaying from exotic to more stable classical quantum states.

Constrained, LHI makes for an excellent pseudo-capacitor. Consequently, it has been proposed as a new power source for several Federation weapons and in-atmosphere fighters, including suggestions that it be used as significantly safer alternative to powering PED-type units, which would require little modification to use LHI for obvious reasons (organic infusion, however, is impractical and likely prone to failure due to the aforementioned toxic and carcinogenic nature of the substance, not to mention the fact that the thermal effects alone could kill a person faster even than radiation poisoning from phazon if it were not administered correctly). A proposal to use it as a fuel source for the next generations of F-ZERO racers has been met with much controversy, and is unlikely to make headway in the near future until proper testing can be done; at the moment, the Federation has not licensed enough manufacturers of the substance. The probability of unlicensed synthesizing plants is essentially nonexistent, as the Federation controls the majority of the supply of its most prominent and hazardous precursor, and what little lies outside the Federation's eye is unlikely to be used for such purposes.

Lastly, and perhaps most intriguingly, it absorbs and mutes electromagnetic and variant-electromagnetic emissions of any source contained within the fluid or inside a constrained shell of it, much like a Faraday cage that can contain even exotic radiation; multiple independent tests have confirmed that full immersion of a closed sample of phazon into LHI completely masks the emissions signature of the substance, and that even a shell as thin as 2 cm should retain the same effective properties assuming the mass of the phazon does not exceed 1.435 times the mass of the LHI.


"Notes on Classical and Exotic Auto-Exothermic Fluids" by Marcus T. Raven, PhD, published in Journal of Frontier Research six months ago.

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

"We need suppressing fire!" a shout from one of the - well, she wouldn't call the Marines, considering what ship they were the crew of, but soldiers all the same - crackled over the comm spectrum, drawing the attention of the freelancer. A quick scan of the hangar revealed the source, a hastily-made barricade under siege by several of the small Zergs and one larger, car-sized one that looked like nothing more than a giant beetle crossed with one of those snapping turtles she had seen once when her mother took her to the Denver herpetarium as a kid.

Kathi winced as a jet of green acid spewed forth from the armored creature's mouth, striking one of the soldiers who had risen from cover to take down two of the little bastards straight in the face, his body dropping unceremoniously back behind the barricade. It was becoming rather obvious that the small arms the soldiers had weren't killing it nearly fast enough.

The solution, of course, was rather simple: use more gun.

"This is Vis, danger close," she announced as the plasma cannons embedded at the base of the ship's wings began to charge up.

There was a flash of yellow light, and two bright bolts lanced out towards the armored Zerg.

The bolts superheated the creature's shell and insides at their point of contact, causing the water in it to flash boil and the flesh to combust in the same instant. The result, of course, could be described much more simply in a mere two words:

It exploded.

"Thanks for the help, Vis," the soldier who had called for help responded, poking his head up and waving in her ship's direction while his comrades finished off the last of the smaller Zerg attacking them. "We owe you one."

She had moved on and was cleaning up a different group of the chitinous aliens when another call came over the comm, this one from Travis, checking to make sure she wasn't dead.

"I'm fine Clark," she said, punctuating the comment with a burst from Vis's nose turret into the injured, writhing body of one of the larger Zerg creatures. "Had to get to my ship, is all. Not all of us have an AI and fancy-ass armor on hand all the time."

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

"You wanted to speak with me, Doctor Raven?"

"Yes, and I'm glad you agreed to meet with me," the scientist's voice sounded from the filing room off of his office. "Try to make yourself comfortable. And call me Mark; you don't have to be formal simply because I'm your girlfriend's foster father."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at that as he glanced at the disorderly stacks of papers covering the guest chairs. If he treats his own work this way, I suppose he won't mind if I move it... he thought, removing them in as close to their original order as possible and setting them on the ground as he lowered himself onto the seat. Why the hell does he even have this many papers in the first place, shouldn't this be stored electronically?

"Sorry about the mess," Raven apologized as he walked out of the annex and pulled out his desk chair. "We've been rather busy lately adopting some runoff research from other projects that can't support it anymore, and it's been generating a lot more paperwork than we're used to."

"Why exactly did you call me here?" the Marine asked.

"Two reasons," his host said, sitting down and running one hand through his graying black hair, "neither of which you're going to want to hear, but they're both very important. The first is because of certain recent events I've been hearing some rumors about, from several people I've collaborated with over the years. And if what Chel mentioned about your character is true, then I have some information that I feel you need to know regarding the activities of certain members of the Federation's military."

Matthew frowned at that, but he refrained from commenting on it just yet. "And the second?"

The scientist lightly, resignedly sighed, before adjusting his glasses and looking straight at the marine. "On behalf of one of my former colleagues," he began, "I'd like to apologize for what we did to your sister."
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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Twilight wasn't all that surprised when the woman avoided shaking his hand, her fear of his species seemed to run deep, and much as he wanted to reassure her that he was no threat (Well, unless he himself was threatened of course) he felt words would not accomplish that at this point and actions would likely take a lot of effort, likely more than her supposed help was worth. Still he needed to cooperate with her and the rest of the people on this ship otherwise it was unlikely any of them would survive for the foreseeable future and so he lowered his hand without showing the frustration he felt over her distrust.

He had intended to go up along with her but it seemed she had a different idea, maybe that was the agreed upon course of action by the guards? He had thought to help treat the wounded as though he knew only the basics when it came to first aid he was capable of increasing the natural healing on the body by focusing his Light energy in the correct manner, though the people who were dying as it was likely wouldn't benefit from it either way, so maybe there was no point to it after all.

Without putting up any fuss Twilight simply let the woman leave as he turned back and walked into his cell and once again sat down in a meditative position. While waiting he thought back to his time in imprisonment at some Federation Research Station, he still wasn't sure what it's name or designation was, nor did he really care to. There he had been locked in a small pod-like construction with the front half being a form of glass through which he could be observed by the inhabitants of the room, with liquid phazon pouring along the back of the metal plate he was strapped to, meant to keep him "sedated" though it was more comparable to electrocuting someone to keep them from escaping.

While there he had not been shown any mercy or shred of consideration, except from one human woman who after having conversed with him for a few days and seeing the bodily deterioration he underwent while imprisoned seemingly caused her to care for him. It was his unwillingness to harm her that had let him hold on for much longer than he'd have thought possible, yet his failure was inevitable and afterwards he lost consciousness, though he was keenly aware of having slaughtered a large portion of the stations inhabitants in his phazon-fueled rage, he did not remember what happened to the woman, nor how he got away from the station... He could only hope she had survived.

He was soon brought out of his reminiscing by the sound of feet hitting metal as two Guards soon came into view, while they tried to look confident and imposing it was clear they were spooked by the sights they had encountered on the way down and probably also by the cleanly ripped open door to Twilight's cell and Twilight himself. He really couldn't blame them, this was hardly routine for security guards. Being told he could leave his cell as long as he helped and didn't cause any trouble Twilight simply nodded though he was finding their request ridiculous. Had he intended to escape or cause trouble he wouldn't have waited for permission to do so, but he guessed this once again came back to them not being used to handling this sort of scenario. Not saying much he followed the guards up the stairs once again and only began to speak when they were back at first class and moving toward the front of the ship.

"Like I tried to say earlier, we appear to have been dragged into some form of dimensional anomaly, I would be surprised if we're even in Republic Space anymore. With no information to go on the only course of action I see available to us is to head toward the source of the anomaly, I can point the way, however I suspect the creature which attacked the ship may be connected to it in some way and would advice to take it slow so as to not find ourselves in a whole nest of the things." He said this matter-of-factly as he walked down the aisle, noting that the woman from earlier was once again wearing cuffs as he walked past. Either they had cuffed her themselves, or she was a cautious individual. He was intrigued to find out more about her, if not only because she had apparently survived more than one encounter with 'Darklings'. "By the way, who is that woman?" He asked one of the guards following him, possibly cutting him off if he was speaking, Twilight wasn't really paying close attention.
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"Her name is Grace," the guard answered. "If that's her real name, I'm the damn pope. She's a member of a powerful criminal syndicate back on Earth. Probably not very dangerous to the likes of you, but she's sneaky." He glanced back at Grace, who gave no indication that she was could hear them. "She says not to trust you, but I wouldn't trust her either. And you can take that to the bank."

Back in the rear of the cabin, Steinman had his hands full. There wasn't nearly enough morphine to go around, and there were three inmates and one guard who he could say for certain wouldn't make it to tomorrow if they didn't get help soon. Nearby, some of the guards were photographing and measuring the creature. There was some discussion about perhaps severing one of its claws or pulling one of its teeth as evidence just in case something would happen to the ship, but that was quashed for fear of people taking souvenirs. Still, there was a feeling that "some sort of sample for the scientists" was necessary.
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(OOC: A bit shoddy at the moment, but its get's things moving)

It didn't take long for the Claymore's second in command to becoming aware of his captain's incapacitation. He had his condolences to her, and hoped she'd live, but right now, he had more pressing issues at hand. Taking command, the man felt a lot more pressure on him now without the captain, but knew he had a job to do. They needed to get out of this part of space...except, if what the alien said were - which didn't really matter - a blind jump could lead them from out of the frying pan and into the fire.

And as much as their guns chewed out the alien creatures that came, more just kept coming. They couldn't take any more pounding. Hull breaches were starting to pop up. He clenched his teeth as the need for decision was starting to bear down on him.

He'd had to take that risk.

As the ship turned around to make it's escape, he swore as several more of the winged creatures - how the heck did they fly in the vacuum of space - appeared in front, bearing down on them. The jump drives need a moment to prime, and he wasn't sure they could take another wave.

And just then, several of the beasts were struck by a hail of continuous laser. Several small ships - not protoss but those that looked more Terran in design - engaged the creatures, and to the Claymore's starboard bow, there massive ship supporting them. It's size was that of the Claymore's itself, industrious, with the head of the ship like that of a thick hammer head shark, and connected to the large wing with a piston-like neck. At the end of each wing were very two large batteries.

The ship looked practically like a floating fortress, the manner laser batteries firing away at the incoming creatures.

The second-in-command almost immediately received a transmission from the big ship. “Hope you don't mind if we swap a few of those bug for 'ya?” came a friendly, male voice with a western accent.

“I don't know who you are,” the commander replied in relief, “but your damn site for sore eyes.”

The voice chuckled, “The name's James Raynor, and all glad to be of help. I would strike up a better conversation, but I think right now its best for us to hightail it out of here.”

“Agreed. Any place with some peace and solitude would be welcomed.”

“Trust me, I know plenty. Oh, and if you can, there's another small terran ship that's in trouble. Not to far from you. Got any room for it.”

“Yes, we should. Our secondary hanger is almost completely empty. I'll open the doors, you cover them while they board.”

“Right ahead of 'ya.”

It was only just as that ship was docking that one of his helmsmen report that it was a Galactic Federation Prison ship. The second-in-command swore under his breath.


--------------------------
Jenosa's face was laced with deep frustration as she gazed upon her wounded friend, Voree. She hadn't expected it to turn out like this; not at all like this, and it wrenched her gut that it had. She swore inwardly and made an exasperated sigh as the crew lifted Voree up.

“Wait,” she said to the crew that was beginning to haul their captain away. She approached the unconscious woman, and closing her eyes and hands, she concentrated. A normal person using any version of the suit she wore would have only been able to form a sphere of energy within their partially clenched hands; but Jenosa, for as human as she had been, had the blood of something else. The blood to manipulate the gauntlet's energies to a finer point.

Her hand sheathed in energy, she pressed them carefully against the bleeding wounds. There was a sizzle, and it became clear that she had cauterized the wounds to keep them from bleeding. It was the best Jenosa could do for getting her – and everyone – into this mess.

After that, the jump klaxon's blared, warning them to brace for a jump.

The ship jolted for a moment, and then there was silence. Although she wasn't a commander, it didn't take long for Jenosa to start asking what the Claymore's status was. She was relieved to hear that they were in empty space, though mildly puzzled that a completely unknown ship had led them this way. They seemed to be friendly enough.

Then the second-in-command explained their current situation. As it turned out, they weren't entirely out of danger; the Claymore had some uninvited guests causing trouble on board; Zerg organisms had breached parts of the decks. There was some cleaning up to do.

There was also the unintended presence of a Federation Prison ship in the other hanger; Jenosa would have asked why, but she was far more interested in doing pest control. With a vengence.

With everyone else having heard the situation from the second-in-command, Jenosa said, “Right then, I'm going on pest control duty if any of you don't mind. I'm not on to tell you guys what to do, but would anyone mind checking up on the prison ship?”
"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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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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"WARNING, JUMP IMMINENT. ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT."

The mechanical voice of the Claymore's basic AI reverberated through the halls as the ship initiated a full-on blind jump. At least, for Travis, that was how it seemed.

Constantine, however... oh, he saw things very differently, to be certain.

To the GI, it was almost immediately obvious how foreign yet similar the mysterious human vessel was, it's technology seeming familiar and yet unknown at the same time as he faintly examined it from his dominion.

And yet... and yet, this ship was absolutely massive in scale; it had to house a small army, not a battalion or even a regiment. It was more-or-less a small, airborne city. Initial identifiers at first seemed unclear, but as the minutes passed, the GI was quickly translating and decrypting the cybernetic language of the other vessel. He had yet to say anything to Travis or the acting commander of the Claymore, but he had already at least gleaned a few key bits of information; most notably, the ship's name, designated ship class, and the names of two key officers aboard.

(Hmm.... Hyperion, huh? Behemoth-class Battlecruiser. Well, that would explain why this thing is armed to the bloody teeth.)

More preliminary documentation surfaced. naming the commanding officers. One Commander James Raynor, and under him was the commanding officer of the ship, Captain Matthew Horner.

"This... this will be interesting..."


-----------

Travis watched with a bit of awe as Jenosa laid her glowing hands upon Voree's wounds, always in awe of the female hunter's incredible gifts.

(I get it... she's cauterizing the wounds. Smart, Jenosa. That'll buy us some time.) Travis nodded as he observed the healing, Kathy finally giving a reply.

"Hey, it's not bad armor." He grinned a bit, turning to meet Kathy's gaze. "I intend to keep my promise though."

One of the crew seemed to bore into him from the corner of his eye, as if askance that he was trying to be light-hearted. A young guy, from the looks of it; fresh recruit.

"Why are you trying to laugh right now...? Look at the captain! She's half-dead!" The recruit seemed to be spitting venom with every word, his polite words faintly diguising his apparent disgust.

"So she is." Travis nodded, flexxing and looking around the hangar; half the walls were pock-marked with plasma scars, bulletholes and claw marks... and the occasional sizzled metal boiling away in small piles of acid.

"So she is? 'So she is'!? What the hell, are you bounty hunters all the same...? Do you seriously just care about killing people and shooting guns...?"

"Kid..." Travis sighed, removing his helmet as he met the fresh-faced cadet with his weathered, piercing eyes; any semblance of mirth seemed to fade away instantly. "Do you really think that dwelling on the negatives is going to help us right now...? We're all serious, but we're all wound tight and we're all seeing the loss. If you don't try to relieve the tension...? You'll go mad. Listen... your captain is going to live through this-"

"Is she...? Is she, Deadeye...!? Look at her, she's half-"

Travis suddenly raised his voice, allowing himself a rare outburst of anger.

"I'm well-aware of the captain's condition, cadet. We -all- are. My point is, we're trying to find a positive in a bad situation. Maybe you should follow suit. Now, settle down, and loosen up; you'll need to learn to if you want to survive situations like this; people make stupid mistakes when they're wound up."

The cadet said nothing as Travis clicks his helmet back onto his head, watching as Jenosa finished patching Voree up, at least as much as she could. Over the comms, the acting commander explained the whole situation.

(Great... convicts. Federation convicts. Lovely.)

“Right then, I'm going on pest control duty if any of you don't mind. I'm not on to tell you guys what to do, but would anyone mind checking up on the prison ship?” Jenosa stood up, the look in her eyes more-or-less validating those words.

"Uh... 'scuse me, hunters? Mr. Clark, Ms. Arma? We uh... we have a bit of a situation..." Another cadet nervously plodded his way into the hangar, stepping over the the corpse of a zergling with notable disgust on his face. His face scrunched up into disgust as he stepped into a small puddle of blood.

"What's the situation?" Travis questioned him, regarding the man with a nod. He took a moment to reload his Fenris, not taking his eyes off the officer.

"There's somethin' really weird going on in Medical Block B. Power has been cut to the block, and people have stopped responding on the comms. We'd send a security team down to investigate, but all of them are too busy sweeping for all these bugs. Thank one of you could check it out...?"

"I'll go." Travis seemed to place himself out front first and foremost. "I'm the most armored of all of us, and I have plenty of experience going in blind."

The officer stared at him for a moment, as if surprised at how quickly he had stepped forward.

Then he shifted his gaze back and forth between the armored hunter and the redhead and smiled faintly before relaxing his lips.

"Alright. Medical Block B is on the 3rd Deck. There should be alot of wounded down there, so be gentle with anyone who might be non-compliant. Oh, and mind the smell; the morgue is on the deck below."

Travis turned to regard Jenosa.

"You look like you need to blow off some steam... I'll handle the tricky stuff."

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

Fifteen minutes later, Travis had grabbed a full belt of ammo clips for the Fenris out of the Thunderwolf's armory, and had made his way through the Claymore's annals. He was steady in his pace, helping security teams pick off stray zerg here or there along the way before he found himself standing before a set of double blast doors. There were tell-tale signs of blood trails going back and forth in and out of the Medical Block; likely the scores of wounded, dead or dying that had been brought about by the wrath of the Zerg.

(That's a lot of blood...) He thought to himself, taking note as the blast doors began to undo at the ship's command.

He couldn't help but wonder though, all of this seemed normal, maybe a communications-

Travis was brought back to reality as he heard the sound of a pistol being brought to bare, the safety being cocked to a gasping man's voice. At first, the two exchanged a very momentary stare-down before the tension snapped, the wounded med crew member slumping down along the wall in pain and relief; Travis noted the large stain of of red along the metal, not to mention the grievous wounds along the man's midsection; parts... parts of him were out where they shouldn't be. He had been badly lacerated... but by what? Another patient? A jostle from the jump?

Zerg?

The last thought was more then enough to ponder; Travis quickly knelt down, helping the man get comfortable against the wall.

"The... th- th-.... " The man was struggling to form words in weak breaths, his Asian complexion becoming increasingly pale. He was losing blood, and quickly.

"Hey, hey," Travis eased him, reaching for a pack of somatic gel; it wouldn't completely deal with the man's injuries, but maybe he could at least stop the bleeding and ease his pain. "Stay still, don't struggle... what happened?"

"Th.... The Med Block... Med... Block overrun.... they... they changed." The man was weakly whispering at this point, Travis barely able to make out the words over the wheezing of his lungs. The medic coughed up a spurt of blood; internal bleeding. Not good.

"Don't force it! ... they changed? I don't understand, what do-"

"AAAAAAAAGH!" The man spat another crimson geyser, a few spurts of blood evaporating into ash against Travis' shields. The inner side of a shield would help retain blood with a serious puncture wound, but blood on the outside was quickly boiled off in milliseconds; a mechanism to prevent build up and loss of visuals due to crimson spray or other debris. Travis was moving frantically now to apply the rest of the somatic gel, knowing he was in a race against time. "Don't... don't go in... they're changed..."

"Don't force it, you fool...! Who's changed? Who? Who...?"

The man's lips moved to finally give a direct answer, but his eyes bulged wide and with a sudden quiet breath, his arm went lip; a faint death rictus hung onto his pistol.

"Sonuva..." Travis stopped himself short of completely lacing the profanity from his hushed breath. He knew this pallor of the flesh, this mannerism of the body all too well.

It appeared he had been seconds too late; the man had died from his abdominal wounds.

Shaking his head with a sigh, Travis did what he could for the man as he tossed the bloodied somatic gel container away. Respectfully laying him to the side, Travis gently scanned the pistol and then removed it from the medic's grip, then moved his armored hand to shut the man's eyes, placing his hands in a gesture of repose and peace. He grabbed the medic's dog tag, snapping it off the corpse's neck and sticking it into one of the small pouches along the suit's waist.

(Rest in peace...) He thought to himself, shaking his head.

What in God's galaxy had happened inside Medical Block B?

He soon received his answer. The second set of blast doors undid to reveal a scene the likes of which Travis had perhaps only seen in his nightmares or a horror film.

The main lobby of Medical Block B was trashed, scratched up. Signs of fighting and struggle littered the entire lobby; glass panes shattered into entire pieces, tell-tale scratch marks up and down the walls and doors. Blood splashes, drips and trails could be seen all over the place, and the emergency power was the only thing that dimly lit the whole area.

(The Zerg must have found a way in...) Travis growled, raising his Fenris to bear.

These folk were simply medical crew; they had likely been caught completely unaware when the besial menaces broke into the block.

"Those poor people... I hope somebody is alive, at least."

Of course, what made the tension so palpably thick was that the entire place seemed deserted save for the beeps of malfunctioning and damaged systems nearby.

Tapping into the comm, Travis narrowed his eyes and checked his sectors twice before speaking.

["This is Deadeye to the bridge. I'm at Medical Block B; there's something very strange going on down here. I found a medical officer by the name of Brooks bleeding out in the vestibule hall before the lobby, kept mumbling something like "they've changed". Really off-putting... sorry to say he didn't make it, he lost too much blood. I'm taking a look inside, though; something..., something just feels *off* about all this even if we probably know who's responsible."]

And so, sweeping room by room, hall by hall, Travis began to sweep the dark corridors of Medical Block B, his Fenris constantly raised at the ready.

He had a nameless dread about doing this...
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~Twilight~
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Just... Kind of out there...
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OOC: Tell me if there's any problems with the transmission part or if you'd prefer me to change anything.

Many things were concerning Twilight at present, Grace was the least of those concerns what with the dimensional anomaly (as he liked to call it) that had pulled their ship into another galaxy or maybe even another dimension and subsequent attack by an alien creature that more resembled a bio-weapon than an animal. They knew so little about what had happened or what the creature even was, and it was entirely possible that it hadn't been alone in boarding the vessel. They had no idea as to the intelligence of these creatures, it they were anything like the Ing it might have been used as a distraction, though there was little to be gained from attacking a prison ship... And it was because of these troubling thoughts that he almost didn't pick up on the guards response to his question about the inmate he now knew as Grace, a member of a criminal syndicate, and according to the guard not to be trusted.

While he would be more cautious in his future dealings with the woman, Twilight as usual preferred to make up his own mind about things and decided to hold onto the idea that she might help him out if they managed to get back to Federation Space, at least until he had more time to evaluate her and whether she'd be likely to keep her word or not, and if nothing else a contact in a large criminal organization might in itself be useful in his search, even if she hated everything his race stood for.

Bringing his attention back to the present Twilight half-turned to look at the guard who had answered him and said "Thank you, I'll be sure to keep your suggestion in mind.", it was probably weird to hear such a sincere sounding reply from a creature with a voice like Twilights, a dark dual-tone with a slight mechanical undertone to it and the occasional odd reverberation. Turning back to the open door ahead of him Twilight continued on, soon reaching the cockpit which (though not something he was aware of) resembled that of an airplane in many ways, just more modern and with the necessary additions for a space-capable ship. Upon entering the rather cramped space one of the pilots gave the guards a questioning look as if saying "what the hell is that doing here!?", to which the man preemptively responded "He claims he can help us out, so do as he says for now." The pilot didn't seem all too pleased but didn't complain (at least as far as Twilight could tell), and then spoke with his colleague while waiting for orders.

Twilight mostly ignored what went on inside the cockpit, he was too busy trying to figure out the direction to the anomaly while looking over the instruments, his eyes catching a flashing red light on the wall. "What does that mean?" he asked, "It's a sign that we're broadcasting a distress signal, we're sitting ducks out here if more of those things show up so if there's any help to be found at all..." the other pilot responded and trailing off as he turned back to the instruments. "Let's hope the creatures can't sense such signals then." Twilight said in response, before he pointed a clawed finger at the radar array "The anomaly is roughly in that direction, the ship needs to be aligned at least sixty degrees more to the left of our current position. I advice to advance slowly while scanning for potential threats, if possible let's avoid another fight." he explained, the pilot once again turned to the guard who just nodded this time, Twilight could tell they were all nervous and given he was a supposed inmate and alien they had no knowledge of he couldn't really blame them for it, regardless he needed them to cooperate or they would never make it...

It was only a few minutes later however that a huge 'blip' appeared on the radar, as a huge battle cruiser appeared out of hyperspace several kilometers 'above' them. Bewilderment filled the cockpit for a few seconds before a voice came through the transmitters ["This is Captain Matt Horner of the Hyperion, ConAir 846 we picked up on your distress signal. State your emergency."] Twilight remained quiet for the moment as one of the guards whom he assumed had a commanding position explained their case to the best of his ability, though it'd no doubt sound strange and hard to believe from their point of view. There was a bit of a silence on the other end for several seconds, Twilight assumed it was this Matt contemplating how to proceed. ["Copy that, we'll fill you in on the details of the creature later. Our scanners have detected other ships where you are heading, we'll escort you, keep close and be ready."] it was clear that relief filled the occupants of the cockpit at this news, Twilight himself was also relieved though at the same time he was suspicious though with a ship like that they could demand whatever they wanted, so it wouldn't make sense for them to play friendly at this stage.

It didn't take them much longer to get to the source of the anomaly, now that they had a battle cruiser guarding their backs they didn't need to go at a snails pace. As they went along however another voice had taken over the transmitters, this time it was a man with a more western accent speaking, he asked a few questions and also explained a bit about the Zerg though they didn't get very far before Zerg flyers began to become visible at which point the conversation stopped as they neared another ship which looked to be a Galactic Federation battle cruiser, Twilight was both relieved and worried by this sight as he was glad there might be more individuals from 'their' dimension, making convincing these 'Raynor's Raiders' of it being the truth easier, but at the same time he was worried what they might do with him... Either way they were soon ordered to dock with the Fed cruiser, which considering the circumstances went far better than one might expect, with the supporting fire from the Hyperion keeping them completely safe from any boarding attempts from the Zerg from what Twilight could tell, still it would be in their best interests to sweep the ship for any abnormalities after they had docked.

Once they were safely docked Twilight asked for a radio transmitter, which he then connected to the inside of his suits collar/neck protector, supposedly due to not having any ears to put it in. "I'll make a sweep of the ship to make sure we didn't bring any unintended baggage, contact me if anything happens." He said before he exited the cockpit and soon walked down the corridor with swift strides, glancing at Grace as he passed her by on the way deeper into the ship. He didn't know if anyone had been back further than his cell, it was entirely possible more of the creatures had hidden themselves around that area so he felt it was prudent to take a look.
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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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Medical Block B was rapidly becoming more and more an exemplar house of horrors.

The further in Travis went, the more disturbing the dark and lifeless halls became. Oh sure, he'd find the occasional *passing* of life here or there, but other then the shredded curtains, the scratched walls and doors, the pools and splashes of blood made for a very dark and disturbing escapade into the bowels of the medical block.

But no bodies. Or personnel.

Or even patients.

They couldn't have all just up and left, not in the middle a boarding action by strange insectoid creatures like the Zerg... there was just no logical reason for it; for goodness sake, half of the people here were either missing limbs or badly wounded...!

More puzzling was that everything clearly radiated a high amount of heat according to scan reads of the atmosphere. This had all occurred very recently, and very quickly.

(It had to have been during the battle, but -why?-) He reasoned. That would explain it very well; there was only one point where a few zerg... pods could go un-noticed and breach into or near the Medical Block.

What was disturbing is that save for the small and less reinforced structures and doors, the larger doors didn't seem forced open at all. And, considering the very nature of the Zerg he had witnessed so far, this was very odd.

As he turned a corner though, the HED (Hostile Environmental Detection) sensors pinged loudly into his ears, his visor displaying proximity warnings. Travis lightly tapped his helmet for a moment, just to make sure it wasn't the sensors being scrambled in some way, but the readings didn't change. What was setting it-

Something wet and organic found it's way under Travis' next footfall and he instinctively jumped back as he heard the sounds of the shields straining from a corrosive hazard, Visor UI warnings flashing red.

[WARNING: HAZARDOUS BIO-ORGANIC COMPOUND DETECTED. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.]

There was a click as he turned the Night Visual Mode. Whatever it was he had stepped in was this puffy, disgusting crap that was splattered along the walls. it was different from the strange organic growth that was being incinerated along the hangar floor right now, however.

Curious to see it's properties, Travis decided he would choose one of the most crude yet effective methods ever tried by man: observation. Reaching for a nearby waste bin, Travis tossed it at the organic compound splattered on the walls.

He did not expect what he saw next; the compound reacted to the waste-bin, binding around it as if the choke it, and it started to sizzle and melt away into bubbling goop.

It was hardly much of a fallacy to presume that Travis wisely chose to steer clear of the stuff after that being exceedingly careful not to approach too near; sure, he had his armor and the shields, but he'd much rather not touch the acidic unknown biomass.

From there, that's when a small knot began to form in Travis' stomach; every bit of his veteran memory and will kept him cool, but his very mortal fiber almost seemed to scream for release of a primal fear. He knew all too well what their words were:

"Get out of here, you -really- shouldn't be here!"

And yet, in spite of it all, Travis found himself going deeper and deeper into the darkness. Making his way through a half-opened blast door, he found that his little expedition was only going to become that much more perilous.

The vestibule for the morgue elevator was completely trashed, even more so then the lobby. Organic shapes slapped against walls and the floor weren't too hard to make out with the night visor, and it was pretty obvious that most of them were dead bodies or severed limbs, if the outline indicated anything. More of the acidic goop could be seen haphazardly splattered along the walls, along with strange, slimy trails of discharge along the floor. Travis made a face under the visor; nasty. Still, these were the first things that seemed to have any order to them. The trails were layered over one another, as with purpose; whatever had made them moved with a goal.

This was getting as weird as it was creepy; what would the zerg need with a morgue...?

He recalled the dying words of the medic, Brooks. Sure, he had been partly disemboweled when Travis found him, but it was all he had thus far.

It hardly made sense though. "They changed"?

["Travis... maybe you should wait before going deeper, get some help."] Constantine seemed just as wary of the Medical Block as Travis himself was; the constant scans of the suit sensors had likely set him as much on edge as Travis.

"I would, Constantine, but I-"

Something began to scratch inside the wall, the motion sensor lighting up inside the visor HUD. Both the GI and his master stood as still as statues, the only sound heard in the armor being the low noise of Travis respiring. His eyes darted back and forth as he slowly spun, sweeping the area for anything that was hostile.

"What was that...?"

Constantine himself seemed lost for answers, if his dumbfounded expression in the virtual world was any indicator. ["I'm honestly not sure, Travis..."]

... as increasingly unsettling that this was proving, Travis had to go deeper; he had to check out the morgue. This had to be where the answers were; where else was he going to go?

He tapped back into the Claymore comms, hoping there were people listening right now.

["This is hunter Deadeye Clark again, I'm checking out Medical Block B. It's a mess... the reserve power is on, it's dark, I'm finding bodies, blood and limbs everywhere... but none of the crew. I - I don't know how to explain it, it's like they just up and left the block for no reason. I'm also finding sparse patches of this strange, acidic, fungus-like growth on the surfaces. DON'T TOUCH IT; I saw it break down a waste bin to goop, I don't think it's too much of a stretch what happened to at least some of the crew with their exposed skin. I'm in the vestibule for the Morgue elevat- oh my gosh..."]

He cut his explanation short as he wedged the ruined elevator doors to the side, noting the marks of something large having burst through the median point of the shaft. That wasn't all that caught his attention though; the elevator itself had been completely destroyed and knocked off the mechanisms which lifted it up and down the chamber.

And it was completely dark.

Something considerably large had done all this, because Travis realized he was standing in a trail of the discharge.

["Something... something of considerable size did all this, I think... I'm going into the morgue, I'll report back when I know more."}

Taking a long, deep breath, Travis looked around one last time, and leaped forward into the darkness, using the walls of the elevator shaft to control his descent.

The nameless dread he felt when first entering the Medical Block began to creep back in. He knew whatever was down in the morgue was bad, -bad- news.

The grip on the Fenris tightened as he took a moment to control his pulse.
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