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by Conumbra on Sun Jan 16, 2011 3:54 pm
Marxan backed away from the approaching android, its blasters ready to fire if he did not react to the androidâs approach in approximately 3 seconds. He was currently within his earth form, skin brown and full of deep lines, mimicking the texture and hardness of rock. The two symbiotic worms he kept for weaponry and for his abilities Marxan backed away from the approaching android, its blasters ready to fire if he did not react to the androidâs approach in approximately 3 seconds. He was currently within his earth form, skin brown and full of deep lines, mimicking the texture and hardness of rock. The two symbiotic worms he kept for weaponry and for his abilities hung limply out of his arms, content for the moment at the food their host had provided them. They were currently in a dormant state, only awakening when they required nourishment. In this state, Marxan controlled their durability and flexibility, and when the worms woke up from extreme injury they could use the energy provided to repair the damage.
As the android pointed its weapons out at him, Marxan thought fast, and a fine grain of sand and dirt rose up from the ground. The grains of sand and dirt quickly made their way up into the androidâs frame, burrowing through the circuitry. The grains began to build up, clogging up the androidâs systems. This caused the machine to seize up, unable to move or fire its weapons due to the amount of sand messing with its systems. He then used the sand inside to topple the machine onto the ground, before walking away. These machines were no challenge to him, not anymore. Heâd have to ask the jester for stronger training equipment when he got around to it.
For around the fifth time today, he sat on the ground outside the building they used as their base of operations. He closed his eyes, steadied his breath and heart beat, and began to listen to the Earth. Oh, of course he could not talk with the soil beneath him as if it were alive, though it did speak, just only in a different way. His awareness branched outward, until it encompassed the entire plateau where the rest of the team was training. He could feel their movements through the dirt, tiny vibrations they made with each impact their feet made on the soil. Of course, the individuals inside the building could not be sensed by him owing to the buildingâs metal floor, but the weight of the building digging into the plateau was sensed by him.
Taking himself away from the plateau, he stretched his conciseness outward, trying in vain to see if there was anyone around the base. He had some notion that if he could sense anyone around the plateau, perhaps they would be the Orsa member who had stolen his staff; perhaps he would come back and try to finish the owner he had stolen it from. In his head, Marxan knew this was a silly and inane notion, but the exercise helped him to focus as a form of meditation so he had at least some reason for continuing on with the practice. He sighed, and stretched his awareness out further, trying to heighten his senses.
Oron stared upwards towards the 20 foot tall white dragon standing before him. It was he who had first decided to name her Iesha, after a mountain on his homeworld. It was more than likely the entire mountain was under water now, after the act of genocide that had been perpetrated on his species. He had wanted something to remember his lost world by, rather than the (sometimes fake, sometimes not) artefacts which slowly trickled in from merchants looking to make money off their misery.
He had a collection of such artefacts holed up in a protected place, and intended to go through the collection at some point and determine their authenticity. The fake ones he intended to sell off to others who didnât know better, however if there were any authentic examples from his homeworld, he would keep them for himself, and use them to remember where he came from. It helped to put his life in perspective, and not get caught up in the killing, like he feared Ilumiya had. Well, she was in a court situation at the moment, so it served her right. Anyway, the killing was only a means to an end, a way for them to find the people that had killed their homeworld. They would find whoever gave the order eventually, he knew they would.
Turning his attention to the dragon, he used his sonic blasters to make a special sound used to get Ieshaâs attention, which was specifically a whistle. This caused the dragonâs head to turn immediately towards Oron, and Oron shivered when she stared at him. He knew she was tame, but it still made him nervous when she looked at him, like she was going to use his body as a means to obtain dinner. He raised the blaster again, and it emitted 1 long whistle, a signal for Iesha to lower her head. She complied, and Oron raised the leg inside his power armor so that he straddled her neck.
On her neck was a custom saddle, made to order so that a rider could use Iesha as a sort of mount. Oron had slowly gotten used to the dragonâs movements over time, after numerous instances of being dropped from 20 feet in the air. He could now direct her, by grabbing onto her horns at the top of the head, while his grappler kept him attached to her neck. Once he made it on, the emitter gave out a series of 3 whistles, one long and 2 short. This signalled Iesha to rise up into the air and perform a 360 degree loop. This was a basic movement, and they had practiced it many times before. After Iesha successfully performed the loop, Oron continued with the rest of Ieshaâs training offering the dragon treats as she went. She seemed to be performing better than normal today.
Ehrian raised the locket that she kept with her at all times. It was a golden locket in the shape of a heart, the kind of thing loved ones usually gave to each other on special occasions. She rubbed over the initials scribed on the opening, âE.Gâ with her fingers, before opening the locket. Instead of a picture inside, a holographic display activated, and a three-dimensional image of her parents appeared from the locket. They were both in their wedding outfits, side-by-side ready for the photographer to take their picture.
This was the only picture she had found of her parents, and even tracking that thing down had been a hassle. She had no idea where they were, or even what their last names were. She just had their first names, and this wedding photo. She gave a small sigh, before she finally closed the locket and the image vanished. She returned back to a viewscreen she had set up in her quarters. With a little help from Busted, a series of view screens had been set up which overlooked Wing City, tapping into the various security cameras. She had no idea if her parents really were on Terra, but if they were, she hoped to find them in the hustle and bustle of Christmas Eve. A lot of shoppers were running around after all.
She reopened the locket to allow her image to display, and placed it beside her. She then began to cycle through the various screens, trying to see if one or both of her parents were somewhere in Wing City. She continued to switch through the screens, finding a few ones that looked almost right, but unfortunately werenât the real deal. In frustration, she closed down the view screens and shoved the locket onto the floor, thankfully not breaking the expensive ornament in her rage. She hit her against the view screens, and slowly began to weep in her chair. Where were her parents, and why couldnât she fine? She must be the worst daughter in the world!
Vieed tinkered around in his lab, which had been set up in the far corner of the facility. He reached for a bottle of fizzing green liquid, and slowly poured a small drop onto what appeared to be a blue square of plastic. The plastic cube began to melt, forming a small blue puddle on the floor before solidifying. Vieed scraped the plastic off of the tiled floor, throwing it into the incinerator next to him. Rising to put the green bottle back to its proper spot, as his hands touched the bottle, a migraine set in. He knew the signs, and tried to get to his anti-psychosis medication before it set in. Unable to get to it through the pain, he scratched out some words.
âComputer, seal my chambers until myâŠ.eaughâŠepisode passes.â
âUnderstood doctor, sealing chamber until brain-wave activity returns to normalâ
As the door closed and locked itself, Vieedâs migraine grew worse and worse, until he was writing on the floor in pain, unable to move his limbs. Slowly, the pain went away, however, it was replaced with tremors, which racked his body, twisting and bending his joints. He screamed, unable to control his own movements; however his scream slowly faded away, as did the tremors. These were all symptoms of episodes he had, and the last symptom was usuallyâŠvoices.
âHello My doctor-man, how are we doing today?â a young female voice that sounded no more than 12 spoke up.
âOh do shut up Rosalia, you really think the good doctor wants to listen to your drivel today?â a young British male of around 25 replied.
âYeah, and of course youâre such a treat. Piss off!â a male of around 16 replied.
âHey, thatâs not nice Fred; take it back you big meanie!â
âMake me you brat!â
âAnyway, thatâs all beside the point. What the good doctor really wants to do is guy someone. Get those knives, and slice them up; you ever wonder how much blood a person spills when theyâre sliced over 30 times. Letâs find out!â a new voice replied, with a crazy wavering in his tone.
âYes, Mr. doctor-man; itâs oh so fun to do that! Maybe the little girl down the hall will appreciate the effort! My mom always said people loved effort!â
âNo, get out of my head. Youâre not real. I donât need, nor want you! My mind is my own, my mind is my own, my mind is my ownâŠâ
Vieed continued repeating that mantra, hoping beyond hope that the voices left. He did enjoy killing, that much was true, but he was going to do it when he wanted to. He wasnât going to listen to these voices in his head. He wasnât!
Blackjack drove up towards the plateau in the Royal flush, no active threats on the vehicleâs scanner at the moment. That was good, considering the cargo he was carrying. It was an Ahrian manipulator he had purchased through black market connections, though it was currently broken at the moment and needed a lot of work done on it. He doubted it would be ready before tomorrow in the shape it was in, though the benefactors would certainly like this little bit of tech. Of course he couldnât give the specks to them right away, not in its current condition, but he believed they would enjoy this little gift. Getting into another organizationâs good graces always required a lot of work.
He parked the Royal flush outside the facility and activated the baseâs defences. As soon as anyone he didnât let Busted know was an ally, the turrets would try and riddle whoever the intruder was with bullet holes. This was standard procedure, and was used to ensure the inhabitants of the base wouldnât waste time responding to the intruder. He took the manipulator from the seta beside him and walked inside, the door automatically opening for his arrival. As he made his way past the workshop, he noticed the android working on the spider tanks they had procured.
âHow are the repairs coming on 55G?â
âRepairs are proceeding as scheduled. Remote control and movement systems repaired first, as per your instructions. Weapons and automatic reaction systems still being repaired.â
âGood, now we can make sure those things can get out if weâre attacked. Letâs hope we donât before the weapons get put back online. Whatâs the estimated time of repairs?â
âRepair of remaining systems will take approximately 12 hours due to every single system being shorted out. Damage moderate, though spread is extensive; will need time.â
The androidâs scanners detected the Ahrian manipulator Blackjack had with him.
âConsume?â
âYes, youâll get a new toy, after itâs repaired and we send the specks over to them. You know how cranky they get when we keep everything for ourselves. I do not need some more âwarning shotsâ, thank you.
The android looked back down at the vehicles he was working on, and Blackjack could swear he looked dejected at having to wait to get his hands on a new piece of tech. That as certainly possible; unlike other androids Blackjack knew, 55G seemed to be one of the few capable of making decisions that violated its original programming. Of course, the original programming had probably degraded to the point that such a thing could be possible, but that meant 55G was an excellent member. He then placed the manipulator on a desk beside the android.
âKeep working on them 55G Try and improve them if you can, though repairing them should be the top priority. After youâre done, work on the manipulator over there.â
He turned towards the computer room, which was the heart of the facility and thankfully not too far away. The facility itself was compact, which allowed for easy movement between the various sections of the facility. As he reached the large door that blocked off the computer room, he raised his left hand towards a biometric scanner and keypad. The part of his costume covering his hand seemed to flow away from it, showing his skin as he placed it on the scanner. Seeing the correct print, the scanner turned green, and the jester moved to the keypad next. The code was a series of four numbers that would only have significance to Blackjack. He moved quickly and inputted the code (1921) into the pad. Acknowledging the correct code, the door opened, letting Blackjack into the control center.
The control center was a hub of activity; cameras covering every single inch of the facility were placed on a wall in front of him. Below the screens, Busted was buried in her information gathering. She was the teamâs information specialist, and thankfully only wanted to observe more and more data. She was allowed to copy as much data as she could, on the promise that she give over whatever Blackjack wanted. It also helped that he could direct the virus to the places where data was going to be most valuable. They had recently just got a huge cache of information, and the jester needed to look through it.
âBusted, would you please bring up the information on the subjects I asked for?â
âYes, bringing up the list now.â
âThank you.â
Blackjack hurried over the seat, where a holographic display appeared in front of it, allowing him to view the list. His lands reached out, using the interface to sort through the information gathered. His arms moved left and right, causing files to pop up and then fade from view. Just for fun, he turned the display colours to red and green. It was the Christmas season after all.
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