Page 6 of 8

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Sun Jun 14, 2020 2:56 am
by kotetsu
By some miracle he managed to stumble along with the rest of the group without falling over, though they weren’t really the ones doing any stumbling. For once it was good to have people covering for his recklessness. People were whirling around him live bees in their hive. It was a bit much for him to process, all the military efficiency that everyone worked with. He understood the necessity mind you, but even the doctor…

Speaking of which… while she was distracted, he made his way over to his own locker. Not much else in this room he was interested in. Thankfully some kind soul hadn’t thought to close it for him considering he’d forgotten the combination. Wasn’t much to lock up anyways now was it? There was an old cricket bat, a pair of brass knuckles, some athletic hand wrap, and his leather jacket which he had been told was lined with bullet proof material. There also some assorted bits of athletic compression wear. He was told the stuff would function like a flight suit but he didn’t particularly feel he had the time to put it on right now, nor did he care to.

Alia had made her way back over to him as he was slipping his jacket on and zipping it up. The bat had something of a shoulder strap made out of woven paracord. He had forgone slinging it over his shoulders as well to give the doctor room to work. He cooperated and sat down on a bench so she could see what she was doing. As the doctor worked he heard the little one call out.

“I’m ready to go soon as the doc finishes patchin me up!” he responds.

As he sits there waiting for her to finish up, his eyes trail across the room. He spies a huge hunk of semi rounded metal that doesn’t look like any gun he’s ever seen, like a portion of an oil drum cut out, with a small window to see through. He had no idea why the republic had riot shields with their logo painted on them for their military, but without the will to pick up a gun he wasn’t about to leave without that either. He’d pace over and grabs it as soon as Alia finishes up.

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Thu Jun 18, 2020 6:54 am
by Drake
Specs of snow float by the barren wasteland of a planet, carefully coating the carcass of the gargantuan humanoid laying beneath the eventful skies, darkened eyes witnessing the retreat of those which crafted and aided in the operation of it's abandoned project. Their creation, battered and bruised, left behind with no remorse, only an alabaster human-like visage tirelessly gazing at the sky. The drumming of the wind against it's metallic plates muffled by an antithetical melody given the situation.

A relic of a past possibly no living soul had seen with their own eyes, digitalized and reproduced by one of the few functional devices after the sudden EMP burst, taped by the side of the heavily scratched chest of a fallen PDTU-026 unit. The outside damage was considerably less preoccupying considering who was on the controls, perhaps one of the most valued assets in the R&D session stationed in Treshhold, the former ace pilot Gido Rankenn, who somehow managed to avoid crashing when confronted by an EMP that was nowhere to be seen in the test logs of that particular flight. Bloodshot eyes complemented by carmine streaks of a now patched wound, how long was he unawake for? Not long enough. Communications were fried, unresponsive controls, barely any colored screen popping into the cockpit.

Those ships flying away in the distance most definitely meant those assigned to him had turned tail, standard evacuation procedures, he had been a soldier one day, hence why there was no rage in such deadpan expression, in fact, there was not much of anything as he stared into the distance moments before the music started. Would this be the day? Twilight's day? No... He had to find a proper place, fly proper flight, that's what he was told, his last orders etched on his sight, still fresh. Thus he began his manual assesment, the secondary generators were still mostly intact, the fuel not leaking, the re-entry system and the AMBAC unscathed, fueled by evanescent streams of much needed power, while virtually useless at the same time.

Were it the Soviets? Was it an invasion? It didn't matter. From the very backside of the cockpit Gido removed meters over meters of cables, soon to be attached to multiple panels screwed open atop Twilight's gelid helm. A single hand caresses the machine's magnificent outer hull, dragging a moment too long. "You'll fly again, girl." A promise, leisurely coming to fruition, yet not quite yet. There was a reason repair teams were composed of a dozen or more folk, agile limbs not weighed down by their artificial weight, folk who could remain inside an unresponsive cockpit for hours with no issues. Re-routing systems was a cumbersome as it was, the skin-tight black pilot suit being sealed against outside temperatures was certainly a godsend considering how quickly the blood froze on his face.

Saxophones roared, pianos delineated undescribable melodies, power cables entranced this humongous frame, voices cheered as dance was given back to those feet, a screwdriver held between lips and Gido was back to his controls, fingers rhythmically sliding through projections, words scribbled on the screen, meaningless to those untrained in the subtle art of flying those gigantic weapons known as AMPs, perked brows, hasty mental notes, mumbled procedures lost to emptiness. Sweat drenched his clothing once the cabin could be sealed off again, his emergencial pack of whatever they dared to call food in this corner came in handy at times like this - which was to say it never had the displeasure of being useful before. Now, however, Gido mulched it down immediately, sipping on an argent recipient of water, a single hand wiping some of the reddened sweat from his forehead.

Those verdant eyes shone once more, the V-fin pointing skywards as that gigantic torso sluggishly unburied itself from the white grave it had been given. A sigh of relief echoed in the cockpit. "I told you we'd dance again." A half-hearted smile, gloved fingers reaching for those holographic displays once again, the normal check up before take off. "Aim correction is offline. Extra boost systems, offline. Boost systems, online. AMBAC, offline. Coolants, offline. Psycho-drive, online. Motion sensors, offline. Comms, online... ish. Main piloting systems, not all online, but it'll do. Weapon systems, offline. Cameras, online. Not the best day for a combat field test, huh?" Gido shook his head. "Two clips for the beam rifle, none for the rocket launcher, and only one functional beam cutter. Just my luck." The pilot's gaze shift to the one image taped to the top of his visor, chortling silently to himself. "Some things never change."

The psycho-drive was a device crafted to unify pilots with poor performing prosthetic limbs and inserting them back into the battlefield, regardless of how brilliant the concept, the execution was far from stellar. Test subjects had to volunteer to a quite risky procedure, their spine's capability of making the entire body move, or basically being confined to a wheelchair or a cybernetic body. The protuberance blatantly poking out of Gido's uniform, directly linked to his nervous system, which so cautiously attached itself to the seat, accompanied by the brief grunt of discomfort as his skin body directly became one with the system, were simply a testament to how there was no Gido Rankenn without Twilight. Fixing it was his obligation, flying it his sole objective.

And so he did, severely crippled by the whims of fate, rifle in hand, 50 shots in total, he flew nonetheless. Perhaps there were survivors still, perhaps ground troops required his assistance, or perhaps there were more unlucky fools such as himself. Invoking one of the oldest customs of his fallen garrison, Gido cracked open a smile. "This is Lt. Gido Rankenn, taking off." The pressure knocked him back on his seat, even with no auxiliary boost, Twilight's velocity was nothing to scoff at, and with adroitness second to none, the man made his way towards the Hub.

Hopefully they would have evacuated with no major problems by now.

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Fri Jun 19, 2020 2:19 am
by Quirbles
The door opened to a bot woman with a pair of blood-soaked nails, and the junker couldn't help but let out a soft snicker at the sight.

Android uprising might have finally happened. Thank the scrap heaps that run this shitty little universe.

But-- no. His celebration was short-lived, the sight of two fleshbags creeping across his vision as they both turned the corner. The bot woman-- she probably had a slave name given by the folks here, though he didn't quite care to know it-- left to dry off her hands and wash away the insides that had since become outsides. One of the many downsides of being a walking sack of meat with skin stretched over it, he supposed. He looked at the injured one, surveying it with a bemused cock of his eyebrow while he pondered its remark.

"Don't thank me yet. Makes it harder for me to rob you when this is all over." He stated, not quite speaking the truth-- but not quite joking, either. Research outposts had a mighty fine amount of tech which could sell for a mighty fine sum, and he was the last person to turn away from a chance at profit. Hell, if the hurt one died, all they had to do was keep the organs cooled, really, and he could walk away a richer man. Might even be a better ship here, too, if folks were willing enough to part with it.

The female one looked uneasy, and said something about wanting to leave. Jax's gaze flickered over to her. Was it something he'd said?

"Oh, come on, you know I was kidding, right? Mostly?" He replied, crossing his arms as the android returned once more, anticipatory hands outstretched as if she was the one who was about to take things from him. Oh, she had another thing coming if she thought that was the case and not the entire opposite way around.

"Document my ass, woman. Think my old serial number's burned down there." His riposte was accentuated with a glare of his mauve, fluorescent eyes. "Whatever cut into yer pal over there like a butcher goin' out of business is still running around this station, yeah? I'm not givin' my weapons over to some registrar just because the little voice in your head tells ya to." He muttered, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the two meaties still huddled in the corner.

"Look, I don't know what tried to have a meet-cute with your internal schematics, but now's not the time to be sitting around. I agree with the smaller one. Let's get the hell out of here and book it, aye?"

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Sat Jun 20, 2020 4:31 am
by BanefulMelody
"Please don't fret, Mr. Cross. I'm sure we can find you replacement clothes, or at the very least, a blanket," Aurora replied to the security guard, before turning back to face the newcomer with a warm, welcoming smile. It was, for lack of a better term, a calculated smile, though not with the implications such a word held. It wasn't fake or ill-meaning, and wasn't plastered on to conceal some other, deeper emotion - it was just chosen to provoke an intended effect, an almost unconscious instinct to appear trustworthy and non-threatening.

Her smile didn't fade when the newcomer mentioned robbing them, but the intent behind it did - ever so slightly tipping from a desire to welcome and calm, to a desire to placate and defuse. A few moments later, he said it was a joke, and Aurora internally relaxed. She'd been ready to shoot him at a moment's notice if it meant keeping these two safe.

Not - not lethally, of course, though her protocols wouldn't necessarily stop her. He was synthetic, just like her, and therefore devoid of the value of life. There was just something about the thought. Hurting him beyond repair, turning the scanner on high and frying his processor. Stopping him. She shook her head, slowly, closing her eyes. Stopping was terrifying.

Stopping was like death.

At his refusal to hand over his weapons, her smile shifted fluidly to a frown, free hand resting on her hip in an authoritative pose.

"You're currently inside a Republian federal facility. If we weren't under extenuating circumstances, I would have asked you to leave your weapons by the door. However, considering the present danger, you are allowed to operate under legal code A.359, civilian adjudication and self-defense clause, granted you register your weapons with the presiding government representative. This is to protect you from unjust retaliatory action by law enforcement, military tribunal, federal inquiry, or civil litigation. I -"

Ms. Katsopolis interjected, her voice frightened, and Aurora's attention split - maintaining concentration on the stranger from the corner of her eye while turning the rest of her focus on where the woman pointed.

That wasn't there before.

|| Rewind. Review footage.

It wasn't.

|| Reviewing footage...

You see it, right? The broken grate.

|| Visuals offline.

And you don't know what's behind it.

|| Obstruction detected in hallway J7 HVAC vent.

The newcomer was the least of her worries, here. He hadn't proven himself a danger, yet, and though she had every right to distrust him, she shouldn't let that interrupt the tantamount protection of all facility members. Turning her scanner to high, she approached the grate, squatting beside the opening.

For a microsecond, she weighed the odds. Not the odds of her coming back out safely - that was irrelevant. It was the odds of the others' survival if she didn't.

"I'm going inside. If I tell you to run," her hand tightened its grip on the scanner, lips drawing in a thin line. "I want you to run. Go back to the control room. The door is four inches thick and locks from the inside."

Lowering herself to a crawl, scanner pointed forward, she entered the vent.

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2020 3:43 am
by Poetic Ghost
Chapter 2: Handshakes, Hand-Grenades, and HVACs


As Galen Khan found himself reassessing his situation, the hangar bay soon erupted into firefight, which quickly became a chaotic storm of fire and blood and bullets as the boarders flooded into the hangar bay and engaged the Republian forces within the space. The marines followed their training and established a firing line, covered by the scattered crates and hangar equipment that had been disrupted and thrown about the room. Against any typical enemy, this would've guaranteed the marines a solid defense. Plenty of guns aimed at a choke point. The only thing they had to worry about was ammo.

But this enemy was anything but typical.

Their boarding method was simple enough, an umbilical tube connected directly into the hangar, almost boring the hull itself, causing the metal to twist and shape around the tube. A constant flow of smoke, or fumes, or steam seemed to leak from the tube. At first, the marines thought of it only as some sort of dramatic effect, or leaking atmosphere from the xeno vessel.

Commander Xander Hodge had seen his fair share of boarding parties. Pirate Warlords from The Edge, xeno raiders, even Wildmen from beyond the boundary. He had led charges across battlefields, commanded platoons through campaigns, defended colonies from the fiercest invaders. But the enemy he and his men faced that day gave him a harsh reminder of his place in the galaxy, a reminder of what it felt to be afraid.

He'd followed protocol. He knew the signs without needing to be in the bridge, he'd been in enough. Hodge was already in his gear when the EMP rocked the ship, and immediately called all troops in full battle-dress to the hangar. Establish a defense, hold the choke-point, hold firm until they run out of troops or they retreat. It was all protocol.

"We need to hold them here, we cannot allow them to gain a foothold. This is our ship, not theirs." Hodge called over the chaos in the hangar as his men trained their rifles on the doors. "Don't let them take one damn step out of that door."

Hodge's protocol, all his planning and expectation. It all meant nothing as soon as the umbilical opened.

His marines opened fire, showering the hallway with bullets. All they could see through the mist was vague shapes, and all they could hear was the gunfire. A few screams escaped the haze, but soon fell silent. A pair of silhouettes shook and exploded before collapsing into a heap of armor and gore. For a moment, the marines felt in control. It wouldn't last. A flash of white streaked through the smoke, and Xander Hodge couldn't move fast enough.


The warrior swooped through the smoke, bullets seemed to almost bend and warp around her. As soldiers' fire redirected towards her, she leapt into the air, spinning and propelling herself in a beautiful display of acrobatics and skill. It was a dance of metal and fire aboard the Valiance. With grace she landed behind the barricade, plunging her blade down into the chest of a private, too slow to even stand a chance. They advanced with agility, not quite as acrobatic as the white warrior, but still too fast for the marines.

As the other troopers recoiled, trying to reorganize and engage, she let loose a volley of projectiles at the soldiers. Not quite a bullet, more akin to a needle or small blade. The lucky few receives nasty gashes along their sides, or had taken the hit in the thickest of their flak jackets. Those less fortunate were skewered and sent flying backward. The chaos and confused gave the other enemy shock troops from within the tube to make their advance, now less burdened by gunfire.

Commander Hodge felt his mouth fill with blood as he was sent to the floor by a spike. He tried issuing an order, "retreat!" He tried, but he only succeeded in spraying his blood across his breast plate. The soldier looked down at himself and the spike planted firmly in his right pectoral, pressing into his lung and flooding his cavities with blood. As he gurgled, he felt a pair of hands grab him by the shoulders and drag his weight across the hangar floor. Friend or foe? He felt himself sink into unconsciousness before he could tell.

His troopers held to their defenses the best they could, but the enemy's advance was too harsh and they closed the distance too fast, quickly overwhelming the soldiers. Those that weren't cut down or pinned to the floor retreated, a pair of gunners with rotary cannons filled the air with bullets.

As they held their ground further back, a pair of warriors broke off to secure the back of the hangar, and approached Arachne, curious of the exotic war machine. The carefree and cocky young pilot was about to meet danger a lot sooner than he'd expected.

- - -

“Everyone ready?”

James pulled his red bandana taut around his head and looked at the team, now a fully equipped hyper-lethal squad of operators. An impressed smile crossed his face as he slapped a magazine into his pulse rifle and secured the strap around his torso. James preferred to travel light, and as much as he would've loved to return to his roots as a heavy weapons specialist and tote a minigun and missile launcher, he had to put those aside so he could lead and support today.

"If Roy's head isn't spinning, I think we need to get moving." James slid his knife back into it's holster and counted the spare magazines he had on his person. "It sounds like the fighting is getting pretty bad-" Akari was cut off as the report of a shotgun rang down the hall from just outside the armory. He bolted to the doors, rifle in hand, and poked his rifle barrel and head out and down towards the fighting.

James, and any one else who had followed, watched as the pair of marines behind the barricade were cut down in a matter of seconds. The girl with the shotgun swung around the corner of the hall, dragging one bloodied leg behind her, rife with small, shrunken-like weapons that were imbedded in her flesh. As she approached the machine-gunner, she ducked and crawled while he opened fire down the hall, but couldn't swivel fast enough as his target leapt high above him and landed behind him. "Shit, Crash!-" He called to the female soldier one last time before he was run through the chest by the white warrior's sword. Crash held back a scream as she limped closer to Akari's squad.

Now, in this light Akari and his team could see their enemy in her full majesty. She stood seven feet tall, with long legs and arms, both strong and swift. They appeared remarkably human, or like your typical upright sentient biped as the designation was now preferred in this galaxy. Her helmet nearly grazed the ceiling as she moved and leapt down the hall, her armor looked more akin to bone or marble rather than metal, it could be presumed that it would be quite a work of art if it wasn't sprayed with human blood and viscera.

He let out gasp for breath as she lifted him off his feet, skewered by her blade. "Xeno b-b-bastard!" He let out as he raised his sidearm in defiance and fired three rounds against the warrior's helm. The bullets met their mark, sending spiderweb cracks across her faceplate. Although no one could see her face, it was obvious she was insulted. In retaliation she swung her blade over her head, sending the poor marine across the deck towards the squad at the armory, leaving a red streak across the deck as he slid.

The shotgunner loaded another shell and fired upon the warrior, but the pellets seemed to warp around her form as she deftly dodged the blast and drew her pistol. The soldier's eyes went wide as another spike was drove into her left thigh, pinning her leg to the starship floor. She bit her lip and put pressure on the wound as the warrior holstered her weapon and pointed her sword toward the group. She let out a shrill cry, and stepped backward.

From down the hall, four xeno shock troops emerged from the chaos of the hangar and advanced towards the squad, rifles raised. They surrounded the warrior in white, calling in tones and vibrating frequencies to each other as they eyed the squad through their helmets.

Akari shouldered his rifle and checked the hallway for cover. A few containers overturned, the remnants of the sandbag barricade, a decent amount of implements that could be used to provide protection from enemy fire. “Doesn’t seem like they’re the negotiating type.” James grabbed a flash grenade from his belt and ripped the pin with his thumb. “Watch your eyes.”

“Squad, weapons free.”

Lux in umbra...

- - -


Lieutenant Gido Rankenn's flight across the barren ice-flats of threshold was beautiful. The soldier had run plenty of training and test ops across the surface of this world, but catching the landscape at dusk. Solitude, the dying gas orbiting gas giant, was at it's most visible. It was an anomaly, as many things were on this strange world. A gas giant of it's size, even giant now in it's waning years, so close in it's orbit with Threshold. The astronomy research department (a shamefully underfunded sector for a world rife with curiosity and questions) also noted the odd absence of moons, with only one orbiting Threshold, and none for Solitude. A gas giant of that size would have countless. Perhaps they were what now form the rings of Threshold? A popular theory.

But beyond planets and moons, the surface had a beauty to it. It was harsh and unforgiving, but the landscape still had sense of peace and serenity in a galaxy lacking such values.

As Gido surveyed, searching for survivors, crew, any sign of life between the R&D station and The Hub, his communications system began to come live. A simple repeating distress call of Republian design. It seemed right ahead of him, why not stop for a look?


As Gido approached, he could still see the smoke from the fuselage of the transport. Most likely someone trying to get from one station to another and crashed. It wasn't uncommon on Threshold. But still, as he came closer he noticed the damage. It couldn't have just been mechanical failure, it almost looked like...

The ground rumbled and the ice cracked behind Twilight, and a high screeching cry erupted from beneath the tundra. As Gido spun his mech, a likely suspect made themselves known.



Gido had never seen a creature like this. It was confusing and horrifying, crustacean and arachnid in some sort of horrific amalgamation of flesh and chitin. It stood taller than Twilight, not by a huge margin, but enough to concern the pilot. Was it native? He'd been told his entire career here that the planet was lifeless, dead. Maybe a bio-weapon? But where the hell would they have hid it?

Before he could ponder this further, the beast charged towards him, frenzied and hell bent to rip steel and crush him between it's claws.

Peaceful and serene, huh?

- - -

Leon's body became a bit more rigid and defensive as the android refused to give up his weapons, even if his revolver looked as though it might fall apart in his hands. Being on the wrong end of a gun wielded by a stranger was never a good thing. His language, his temperament, it didn't do much to calm Leon or his new mechanic friend. Even if he couldn't fully trust the newcomer, he could agree with him on one thing.

They had to get the hell out of there.

"I couldn't agree more, we should all find a transport and get-"

"I'm going inside. If I tell you to run, I want you to run. Go back to the control room. The door is four inches thick and locks from the inside."

"Okay... please be safe." Estelle said sheepishly as she followed Aurora to the vent.

"Wait, wait no... you have to be joking, right?" Leon looked into the air-vent... It looked big enough for whatever the hell it was to have fit through. "Look you can't just-" he tried, but it was too late, she had already crawled inside. It had already kicked his ass, nearly tore him in half, and was now running somewhere to lick it's wounds. Aurora had just patched him, saved him from a quite pathetic death and was now running into an HVAC trying to keep them all safe.

To let her get killed was just wrong, even if she wouldn't let them, he needed to help her. It was what was right.

Leon looked around the room for something, anything to help Aurora. Getting into the vent would've been the most heroic thing to do, but he knew that blocking the already claustrophobic vent was a bad idea. Leon had plenty of experience inside vents like these, and trying not to be seen, he knew the most important thing to do was to ensure an escape route. He bent down to grab a long length of cable, an emergency power line in case of failure to the main systems. He felt fine until the end when pain shot up his torso, he winced as he felt a stitch tense and snap in his wound. Damn... can't be a detriment. Leon took a deep breath and kneeled down to the air vent. "Hey, before you get too far," he set the end of cable down in the vent, "if you see something. Anything, you tell us and we'll pull, okay? I can follow you, pull you back if need be."

"We don't need you dying in there."

- - -

Once Aurora was past the opening, the vent was spacious enough for her to move along at a tight crouch, although it seemed turning would be quite difficult. The blood continued down the system, and began to become thicker as the trail continued. As Aurora moved further inside, the sound of hurried movement further down the vent echoed back to her, and the coppery smell of gore filled the olfactory sensors of the android. Whatever was ahead was leaking badly, and most definitely going deeper into the system.

|| Obstruction in hallway J7 HVAC vent preventing ventilation. Direct proper maintenance personnel to Hallway J7 immediately.

With no maintenance personnel left planet-side, the android went alone towards the obstruction. The gore coating the floor and walls became thicker and more consistent. She was getting close.

As she rounded the corner, scanner in hand, she came up to the obstruction. A large collection of biomass stuck against the walls of the vent, squirming and alive, like a tumor. Aurora could recognize bits of matter, what could have been beings at one point. A paw, a jawbone of a dog, and a hand perhaps? The vague shape of human anatomy was almost consumed by the growth within the vent. The biomass seemed to web across the entire vent, and although her connection to the station informed her that it was not more than a meter thick, it still provided no space for the passage of air.

Before the android could investigate further, she heard a growl from the darkness behind her, and as she turned, her synthetic eyes met a horrific sight.
Image The creature was canine, a Doberman offshoot was an accurate guess. But something seemed fundamentally wrong with this beast. Its flesh seemed to bubble and pulsate from within, as if it wished to rip away from it's bones. In some places the flesh seemed to be barely holding on, exposing bone and leaking blood from within. Lodged in it’s ragged neck were a pair of silver medical scissors, a mark from it’s encounter with Leon. It looked to be in both agony and apathy at once as it leapt toward Aurora, it's horrible rotting maw unhinged and eager to rip and tear.

((Hey everyone, plenty of stuff going on with this one! Please direct all questions to the Discord, thanks!))

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2020 5:06 am
by Quirbles
Attachment was a dangerous thing.

A very dangerous thing.

Trust was how he'd ended up vivisected on a transport vessel headed to a rimworld illegal engineering facility. Trust was how he'd ended up getting shot, stabbed, punched, kicked, and ran over countless times working a bounty. Trust was how he'd ended up alone for what felt like... centuries, wasn't it? Or had it been only decades?

Had it been only years?

The left eye socket of J-4-X twitched, slightly, and he closed his eyes to hide the tick. A shake of his head followed, and an artificial breath-- one that was parsed through lungs that didn't exist, out of a throat that wasn't real-- spilled out into the open air of the room as the bot woman continued her little tirade in front of the two organics. The junker raised a ridged brow, a faint smile creeping along his face as she spoke-- not one of coy smugness, but one of artificial amicability.

It was clear that the female android was not in possession of capable judgement. He'd have to remember that, down the line. Attachment to organics was very obviously a distinct weakness, and he made a note to remind her of that when the appropriate time arose. All he could do, now, was wait and watch as the bot crawled into an extant vent and disappeared. Jax looked to the injured organic as it tied a rope and spoke about her dying, as if he actually gave a shit at the end of the day.

"Send the expendable droid to do the work, right?" The junker growled at a lowered volume. His eyes glared through the two fleshbags, plated mouth closing in what could only be described as thinly veiled disgust. He stepped forward, towards the vent, and unholstered his gun.

"Both of you are secondary concerns." He stated, matter-of-factly. "One's a coward, and the other's injured. If you continue to weigh us down, I will do rectify the situation."

And with that, he moved into the vent, his frame compressing itself ever so slightly around the shoulders and hips to better navigate the HVAC system. His nose picked up the smell of putrefied organic remains, and the disgust on his visage became ever-visible, the bot woman disappearing up ahead as she refused to concede the head start she'd been afforded. Idiot girl didn't know what the fuck she was getting into. Why was it responsibility to care, anyway? Why the fuck did he give a shit, right now? He was meant to get a ship and get the fuck out, and neither of those objectives had been accomplished.

Don't get attached. Don't get caught off guard. He hadn't shot the two organics, and he hadn't left. Those were his first two mistakes.

The third was following the other android.

The frame of his body re-expanded once he was able to get himself into a decent crouch.

"Wait. Wait, dammit, woman, I'm gettin'-- shit on these boots, they were fifty fuckin' units at a bazaar--"

He stopped a few paces away, giving the android space as the obstruction came into his view. Now this-- this was why he fuckin' hated organics. The shit they could turn into, the shit they could create-- Makers be damned, it was vile. Vile beyond belief. It just wasn't right, it wasn't natural-- no order to it, no cleanliness, no geometry. Just a bloated, tumor-like sac. Like some sort of womb sent from the beyond.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding." He muttered, a growl tearing his gaze away from the sac as his eyes settled upon another organic further down an adjacent vent. The flesh was living, moving, and Jax's mouth clenched shut as he raised his revolver.

The hammer clicked back with a jerk of his hand, and he fired.

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2020 5:10 am
by AnonymousGhost
Flames exploded in Revelation’s vision, flames twisted together with smoke and steam and screams as Republian marines collapsed to the ground in splattered pieces. A beautifully lethal flurry of bone white armor and blood-stained weaponry streaked through her vision and then disappeared.

No, wait, not Revelation’s vision—Flashpoint’s.

The hangar was under attack.

A smile wide enough to reveal her canines spread across Revelation’s lips. She rolled her shoulders as if readying for battle and cocked her head to the side, a curious creature studying its surroundings. A slight twitch in a couple of her muscles was the only indication that she was currently operating her mech.

“Alright, Flashpoint,” she said, practically giddy with the impending carnage, “wreck some shit.”


Flashpoint’s subdued operational humming dropped in frequency as it shifted into combat, the bass reverberating through the hangar floor almost as powerfully as the mech’s steps. And then it stopped. For a single instant in time the hangar seemed to be enveloped in the utter silence exuding from Flashpoint—and then that silence collapsed in on itself like a dying star, exploding into chaos and power and red metal as the mech tore through the enemy’s ranks with a speed and agility rarely seen in creatures, let alone mechs.

In one fluid motion Flashpoint swept a foot across the hangar floor, shoveling wounded and dead Republian marines aside, out of the immediate heart of the assault, and raked his black metallic claws through the enemies unfortunate enough to be within arm’s reach. The mech’s sharpened talons ripped through the black armor as effortlessly as a finger drawn through water and the momentum behind the attack sent the cleaved enemy parts spattering against the walls and floor. Flashpoint hew through line after line of enemies all while remaining well out of the way of any friendlies. (Revelation’s fingers twitched as she imagined the blood dripping from her own nails, as she imagined her own hands ripping apart the enemy troops.) He ejected a spear from his right arm and drove it into the hangar floor, impaling a couple more troopers. But perhaps “impale” wasn’t the right word. The spear was built in proportion to a mech, not a humanoid-size creature, so its point didn’t merely skewer the bodies but severed them clean in two. Edges of the black armor were bent inward from the force, piercing the viscera that now spilled out of the enemies’ bellies. As quickly as the spear had manifested, it disappeared, returned to its holding place in the mech’s arm. And then Flashpoint was back to hacking, slicing, and clawing. He was akin to a streak of red lightning as he raced from one end of the hangar to the other, trying to keep the seemingly unending assault at bay.

As he eviscerated another group of black-armored shock troops, Flashpoint’s eye piece—Revelation’s eyes—fell on the tube funneling in the enemy troops. That. That had to be dealt with. And they knew exactly what to do about it.

Flashpoint’s blood-soaked claws retracted into his “hands” as his palms transformed, metal brushing against metal as pieces shifted to create a pair of twin cannons. The holes yawned open, their maws leading down into impenetrably dark throats. But then a glimmer of golden light grew in the depths of each and the air in the hangar became heavier, hotter. As the golden lights grew closer and closer to the cannons’ mouths, the heat it emitted and the source of the cannons’ power became unmistakable. This suffocating heat—this power—could only mean one thing; it was harvested from a star. (Up in the hallway Revelation reveled in the heat she could now feel clawing its way through the floor. She flexed her hands, the center of her palms tingling, and felt the familiar pull of the bond that was the mech interface. As far as she was concerned, there was no difference between them now. Revelation was down in the hangar with Flashpoint and he was here in the hallway with her.)

The nova cannons grew to full power; the golden lights in both palms had blossomed to lick the edge of the holes in Flashpoint’s palms. Waves of heat distorted the areas immediately surrounding the mech. With a thunderous impact, he dropped to one knee, shaking the hangar and undoubtably a good part of the rest of the Valiance. He extended his arms out, palms facing the tube, and fired both nova cannons into the tunnel.

Shrieks of surprise, fear, and pain erupted and were swiftly snuffed out as the beams of heated energy surged forward. The shock troopers closest to the hangar exit of the tube were incinerated instantaneously (A quick death, Revelation pouted, what a disappointment.) while those at the other end took a bit longer to burn. An acrid stench of burnt skin melded with melting armor combined with the coppery tang of blood that hung in the air of the hangar. Flashpoint rose to his full height again and returned his eye piece to the assault that still lingered at his feet.

(Although Revelation couldn’t smell it, she could read the percentages of elements that made up the atmosphere of the hangar in her mech interface display. And she recognized those elements. She recognized those percentages. It was an all-too-familiar scent. Her mind flashed back to hulking, charred bodies scattered throughout a decimated ship. The weak screech of once-arrogant tongues petered out until the area was wholly silent. It had been a massacre. She’d made sure of it. Using the memory as an anchor, as proof that she was a monster capable of surviving this, Revelation took a slow, steady breath. “That’s my boy,” Revelation crooned.)

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2020 10:48 pm
by illirica
The moment of respite didn’t last - and, indeed, they had been fortunate to have it at all in the first place. Dr. Asai couldn’t help but think how lucky they had been that the firefight had come upon them as they were getting ready to leave, rather than as they had been attempting to get to their weapons in the first place. Sometimes, it was little moments like that which made all the difference.

Other times, it didn’t matter how many moments there were, nothing was going to make a difference anyway. The troops in the hallways cried out warnings, but only for an ineffective moment before any warning cries were cut off, abruptly. The attacker - that was attacker, singular, interestingly enough - seemed all too prepared for this fight. Alia wondered if there were others like her on the ship, fighting through the rest of it, or if she was the only one.

Truly, she was beautiful, in her own way.

Alia didn’t catch much more than a glimpse though, before ducking back to shield her eyes from Akari’s incipient flash grenade. She didn’t like those - it was all too easy to blind someone for life with something like that. Flash grenades were one of the weapons that got touted as “nonlethal” on political talking points, because it sounded good for the media. She doubted many politicians had dealt with the retinal scarring that could result, or with having to talk someone through the trauma of knowing he would never use his own eyes again.

Ah, the politicians would say, But they don’t really hurt anyone...

Alia kept her opinions to herself, aside from a slight frown. She’d added a backpack of medical gear, and tied on an armband - red, with the standard white cross. What good it would do here, she didn’t know. Sometimes it made a difference - other times...

Other times she had to be careful. She peered out into the hallway again after the grenade flash had gone off, blinking the spots from her eyes, trying to figure out if she could get to the injured marines - though, with the amount of blood that was currently smeared on the floors and walls and ceilings, it was unlikely that she was going to be able to do anything for them - but she’d check anyway, because that was her god damn job.

Revelation had moved in, starting up an attack that had more in common with a berserk rage than any sort of methodical tactics, but it was likely enough of a distraction that Alia could get in where she needed to be. She slipped into the hallway, making her way quietly to where the marines had been downed, checking for vital signs and not expecting to find any - and checking back over her shoulder, worried about what she was going to find there.

Dr. Asai would have more patients before this was all over, that was a certainty.

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Tue Jun 23, 2020 2:56 am
by Drake
There was nothing quite similar to the vast fields of pure alabaster stretching into mountains under the cloudy sky of Treshold, few soldiers would have had the privilege of alluding to one of the few positives of such remote location, even less would know how to truly appreciate what was presented to them. Gido was one of the many who would remember of his time in Treshold as some painstakingly monotonous period of readjustment, eyes barely focusing on the beauteous immensity of the outside, rather focusing on the plethora of screens he absent-mindedly fidgeted with, checking performance issues and possible mechanical failures, as well as attempting to reconnect Twilight back into the grid to get, at the very least, acquainted with the situation. Views weren't of importance anymore.

Not when you had nobody to share them with.

Cockpit work was somewhat tiresome, especially during scout missions, cumbersome tasks without any of the adrenaline-inducing moments his job offered, which meant if he didn't occupy himself, his mind would get the best of him, therefore he would become sloppy. Sloppy pilots meet their demise, plain and simple. Rather, he kept an eye on two systems constantly, even unnaturally so: the motion sensor system and the fuel levels. He didn't want to become a sitting duck once again. At least, his musical taste kept him from stressing himself out with all that brightness blowing up against his face. Attached to the side of his seat, the device smoothily laid a tune, by it's side a pair of drumsticks crisscrossed, worn out from use.

Gido begun humming along, gently shaking his head, lost in the rhythm, automatically swiping screens around, attentive eyes scanning all surroundings for enemies, fingers coiling around levers without so much as a second thought, the melted snow underneath the AMP's humungous frame kept his presence quite evident, if this was an ambush, sticking out like a sore thumb would bring him cocky enemies believing him to be a rookie, it was why he repeated the rookie pattern, flying low, closer to the ground, always in a straight line. Sadly, the first skipped beat didn't come from a perfectly accurate sniper round piercing Twilight's armored core. Instead, it was the customary beeping of a distress signal, an unfortunate turn of events, which seemingly only had the upside of alerting Gido he now was connected to the planet once more.

An audible relieved sigh between pursed lips, a mere push of a button and he was back into the main communication channel, not the customary for military practice nor for test sequences, instead the one used to communicate between R&D and the main Hub. "To whoever is listening, this is Gido Rankenn. I'm tracking a distress signal. I'm flying in blind, what's our situation?" He reported, not really stopping for a moment, most of his superiors were apparently gone anyways, this was more of an act of good faith, or maybe he was simply eager to confront the enemy. The latter would not need much more wait, as he approached an evanescent trail of smoke revealed itself in the horizon, a crashed vehicle with no comms up other than the distress.

It truly pissed him off that such an obvious trap was pretty much his only lead as to whatever was occurring, and even then it wasn't as if he could piece two and two together during combat anyways. A single hand slid onto his side, swapping the calm and soothing tunes for something more akin to what his gut warned him was about to happen. Twilight hovered around the perimeter, checking for any survivors of a crash... No... Those weren't signs of a crash, the metal was sliced and twisted in shapes and forms unbeknownst to mere harder-than-average landings. That was clearly-

The ground rumbled from beneath, quakes trembling the entirety of the AMP's skeleton, inadvertently cracking a grin on Lt. Rankenn's visage, unaware to even himself. A subtle mixture of excitement and unadulterated panic as the organic colossus growled before him. A cocked brow was about all reaction it could get from Gido before the beat picked up, snapping him out of it. "This is Gido Rankenn again. To whomever it may concern, there's no survivors. I'll be engaging the enemy forces now. Gido Rankenn, over and out." It was a half-truth, in all honesty having them order him to retreat now would be in poor taste. Whatever in all hells that monstrosity was, he barely had any moment to swallow the truth before his reactions kicked in and he immediately pulled the directional controls back, those metrical-tons of metal immediately responding by blasting away from the enemy without turning Twilight's back to it, both feet cautiously placed close to the ground, thrusters lifting as much snow as possible.

That thing towered over even his prized armament, and from the looks of the thick, crustacean-like carapace, 50 shots might not be enough after all. Well, he had gambled with the shitty hand fate had given him, this was no time to turn away. Dozens of options rushed inside his thoughts by the second, but he stuck to the most simplistic thus far, simultaneously as Twilight's thrusters sent it the opposite direction, from it's back a single mechanism released it's rifle, flawlessly delivering it to it's hands. "Here goes nothing." He muttered, squeezing the trigger twice as verdant flashes of light blasted from the weapon, addressing the huge shade behind the thick veil of snow.

Re: Legacy: Chapter One

Posted: Thu Jun 25, 2020 4:45 am
by kotetsu
By some miracle Roy had instinctively managed to duck his head behind the large shield he had procured just now, below the visibility window cut into it at that. When he pulled his head up and saw the carnage that had been wrought something familiar woke up inside him. Even in his line of work blood and death in this volume was a rare sight. He became hyper focused on the one he could no doubt link all this too. The towering giant that could hardly fit in the corridor they needed to make their way down. He had no mind for the doctor and her musings about what the ethics of different weapons usage, and was only had his adrenaline fueled more by the notion of Revelations AMP at work.

Yet he couldn’t look more out of place charging in, one hand carrying a beaten up piece of hardwood with a handle, and the other a high tech riot shield with high tech functions he had little understanding out how to activate. Never mind that neither of these things had any business being handled one handed either given their size and unwieldiness… and intended usage.

In his mind he had vaguely remembered a bloke who he had previously beaten in a fight, found him at a bar and tried lunging over the table at him. He had a good foot or so on Roy and an ugly mug, well maybe… details weren’t important considering Roy was pushing the limit of his mental capacity for strategy and planning as it was. Point is, at the time Roy had reacted by flipping the table he was sitting at up and to the side, then proceeded to beat the man for the second time as he hit the floor. How much different could it be this time he thought, only difference was that he was carrying the table so to speak.

“Oiy!” he shouted. “Come get some ya twat!”

As she shouted he reached the cricket bat around the shield and confidently walked towards her, whacking the flat of the bat against the metal. It wasn’t quite that satisfying thunking sound but it was loud and brazen enough to get her attention he hoped. The walk transitioned into a full on charge as he ducked back behind the shield, the cricket bat slightly visible at the side, ready to counter attack if needed. He’d through his full weight into the charge. As he made contact he’d lift the shield up and over his head. He’d hope that with the better center of gravity he gained from being shorter combined with his unnatural strength, the behemoth of an alien woman… thing would go toppling over him and be vulnerable for a follow up attack.