Lucas Montas's Story

As the sun began to set in the rogue Aschen world, an ebony black ship descended from the upper atmosphere. Verhasst sat at the helm with his gauntlets firmly glued to the steering mechanisms. His neural implants interfaced with the ship's computers, feeding each other terrabytes of data as the vessel ran landing diagnostics. His limbs, abdomen, and torso was wrapped in a black mesh-like material that took the form of muscles carved with definition. Synthetic fibers and artificial muscles flexed and vibrated as the cyborg maintained control of the wheel. A metallic sealed helmet sat on his head, complete with a gask mask and re-breather unit. His boots were planted firmly against the floor for leverage. Several compartments were attached to the belt around his waist along with a sheathed combat knife and pistol. A large Ereb Blast Rifle hung from the chair by its strap. Observant and alert eyes scanned the horizon as the ship screamed through the atmosphere.

"You see any good spots from here, tovarish?" the Alpha Trooper asked the scientist. His voice was deep, modulated, intimidating, and almost void of emotion. "We're coming in hot. Prepare for landing!"

The scientist, which also had a helmet strapped to his own head, one of his own design as he found it sutibale for his profession, light-weight but protective as hell. He turned, looking out the viewing windows of the ship, and then he turned to look at the Alpha Trooper and nodded his head, and then he quickly made his way to his seat, and strapped himself in, making sure he was safe and snug in the seat.

"I saw a certain area on the way in, looks like it could yield a good sample to analyze and maybe........just maybe it has some good materials, this planet is pretty rough though, so who knows what's in store for us when we land" he said with a highly intelligent tone of voice, his voice robotic sounding because of the filter in his own helmet.

Peering through the clouds of Hadante was a strange sight to behold. It was an Aschen Reverence. But rather than painted the typical metallic colors that were typical of these Aschen ships. This one was painted a dark golden color.

General Netan was watching the DRADIS screen as it detected the strange alien vessel, Hadante National Army personnel moving about the CIC.

"I want ground teams to meet them where they land, capture them and bring them to me." Netan ordered as the Reverence banked around in a broad circle.

Nikolai craned the wheel back as the ship vaulted over a mountain range. It banked in the valley and swooped down for a landing. Dust scattered into the air as the cold fusion engines of the transport whined down. The ship was of simple design patterned after a standard scout ship. A white hand was printed across the side of the glossy black hull. Two particle cannons were mounted at the front.

"It's about a ten minute walk to the site from here." he said to the geologist as the landing gear deployed. "Grab your gear and carry what you can. I'll get the re-"

"Warning..." resonated a female voice over the ship's intercom. "Armed patrols approaching. Caution is advised. Hostility is unclear."

"Govno..." Verhasst growled as he picked up his rifle. "Stand back. I'll handle this."

It had been roughly a year since Oria had been imprisoned here, then the prison was overrun, and all hell broke loose. No real way to leave the planet, but much more respect that was for sure. Hardly a queen, hardly even in power, but loved. Then again she kept to herself, even among the former prison population she was still high concern target and though people had tried to fight her or even oust her from the imaginary position. A quick knife to throat, and forward motion, ended any pretension and ideas of somehow matching her. They did not call her a butcher for just giggles, she had an almost art-like style with how she took care of business, it was much like a dance, a ballet of macabre delight.

Her tent was on the outskirts while ruins of the former terrifying prison loomed in the distance, talking of memories that once exist, and tricking people into thinking that it was all over. Oria could see this place was a dictatorship, yes it was under new management, but at what cost could you ask?

Nonetheless, sat on discarded ship, completely out of commission, her mind was growing bored, murder and bloodshed was sadly not enough, either she would die of boredom, or someone from the Aschen would come to help her. Then again it's probably best they did not, she was such a loose end, that it made it impossible to know what game she played. Double-talking, double-dancing, she knew it all. And in the end could she be trusted, in all honesty, most likely not, but she was also a way for anyone who allied with her, to get off the planet, because if the Aschen knew she was alive, they may feel inclined to send something, although when it came being off the planet, she reckoned until she wormed her way back into the Emperor's eye she would be moving constantly, not a problem, but maybe once off here she could maybe do some high profile assasinations in UCON territory, after all he loved initative, and killing big names, was taking huge fucking initative.

His name was Garde, Captain Garde. He was Military, the best of the best of the best. He had been the one guy they sent in when they needed it to be done. He had never failed, not once in all of his career. This made his fall all the harder. They had framed him, had marked him as a traitor, made him the black sheep and the ultimate evil in the eyes of those he had fought and shed blood for, those he had killed in the name of. To add insult to injury, they didn't even wait for the trial. He went to sleep one night in a house beside the love of his life and woke up to some scientist. Napalm, they told him, took his wife, his daughter and her child, and his son. How had it not taken him? Because of them they said, because they saved him, gave him a better body than the one the fires had destroyed. And all they asked for in return was his service.
Oh he had served them, had helped them with the same efficiency he had served his country with. But this time when they decided he was of no longer use to them, he was ready. He knew that he couldn't stop them, from shutting this body down, so before they turned on him, he turned on them. A simple phone call brought down the one of most powerful group of criminals and pirates known to the universe, made them into nothing but a vague thought in most minds.
Course he didn't off scott free, nobody ever did. They didn't kill him, they owed him that much, instead they dropped him here on this god forsaken world of prisoners and low life scum. Told him that if he survived long enough they'd get him out. More lies, but he didn't care anymore. You can only take so many knives in the back before you run out of room and patience, and he had long since ran out of patience.

His first few days he had plenty to deal with, a lot of people here didn't know his name. He changed that with the first guy who tried to kill him. Another thing that he had been left was his new body, course they didn't take it, they wouldn't take it. He had nothing else, everything else had been taken from him, his family, his love, his life, and his body. But in retrospect they probably should have taken it, as it was essentially a weapon. Highest end of prosethetic, the kind of tech only an insane amount of criminal activity or military contract gets you. No maintenance, modular hardware and self evolving programming. He had all kinds of special tech, and he himself was badass incarnate, but his personal favorite of it was the armblades. Diamond edged for that extra cutting power, molecular engineered for solidity and strength, at any range he was dangerous, but in close range he was a nightmare, a whirlwind of blades and, usually, blood.
Needless to say, the first man to attempt his life found himself fertilizing a fourty square foot space, his gravestone marked by his scattered bones. Also needless to say, he was left to his peace and quiet after that, and nobody even wanted to talk to him after the second person, who had simply asked his name. Maybe he shouldn't have killed that one, but in honesty he no longer cared who died at his hands.

A smile touched his face as he remembered. "Am I a sociopath then, now that I just don't care? Maybe that's what happens when you become a machine..... Or maybe that's what happens when you die." He mused to himself, "For all we know, I could have died and went to hell, and a demon has taken my place."

He stood in the open, something he would never have done before getting his new body, especially not in such a hostile area. He turned to his left and saw a derelict ship and smiled, making his way to what he would make his new home.

Noticing someone walking towards the ship, she hopped off elegantly, dust herself off, then raised her head, smirking, "No room, no room said the Mad Hatter." laughing she went on, eyeing the ship coming in, it appeared she may get off this rock after all, although best not celebrate too quickly. Pushing her fringe out her eyes, she eyed the person with contempt, "'Ey Tinman, go back to fucking Dorothy and stay out of 'ere, this is my place and frankly, your clanking and other mechanical noises are grating. You may think you know me, but toots, I ain't your usual convict, I was put here by big suits in UCON. I am that infamous, so go back to playing in the sand, and go find another place. Otherwise I will test out a theory of how long it takes to gut a metal man. I believe it's 8 minutes, but as I am scientist, I prefer to test out these theories, after all we must have evidence for hypothesis." with that she pulled out a sharp knife, handmade, and very jagged, "I would say get the point but that's generic, instead just going to wait for your smart ass retort with extreme anticipation."

With that she walked over to the wing, and sat herself on it, waiting, and guarding the entrance the ship. On one hand she was armed with only a knife, on the other you did not get put on here for robbing a bank, no she was was likely here for something big. Although she was being coy, so it was nigh on impossible to tell what was really and was fantasy.

Didn't make a report, continuing his walk towards the ship. Despite the woman's clamoring threat his face never showed fear, indeed he wasn't sure if it could. He knew she was talking out the ass about his bodies noisemaking though, not once had he ever made any robotic noises in this body.

He let his right arm drift away from his body, then jerked it as his synapses fired the signal to release the blade, which slid out in a blink. The scythlike blade extended a good yard out from his arm, nearly dragging the tip on the ground. Both the outside and inside curve had a cold gleam to them, and that combined with the shape made it seem like some wicked smile. He continued to walk to the girl, not caring about her knife as he stepped up into the ship. He swung the blade at her he got close enough, although the motion was deliberately slow. It wasn't hesitation really, or some vague notion of not hurting women. Rather his unwillingness to kill her was based solely on the fact that she some what resembled his daughter. Although, faced with his daughter in his current state of being, he probably would kill her, his conscience had long since left him.

Assuming the woman had the sense to evade his attack, he would then drag the left arm of his jacket across the blade and say "Mines bigger."

Oria did not even wince, she did blink somewhat, but otherwise seemed completely unfazed as her eyes trailed over the scythe, her knife up close, but not much else changed. Then she finally spoke her expression mocking, "Ooooh yours bigger. Big whoop, now put away your nice weapon and show some respect to Balko Butcher. Honesty..." she paused savouring the snide remark, "It's not how big it is dear, it's how well you use it, and my friend, as pretty as that weapon is, don't expect me to fall head over heels because you wield. Now put it away and let's discuss business, my name is Oria and you and I are going to make a deal, get me off this rock." once more she waited.

Oria was always one to know opportunity and despite the randomness of said occasion she still had idea this could be played to her advantage, "And I will get you charges thrown out, not to mention if you help me, could even suggest to the God Emperor that you could be of use to him, what do you say?"

Putting her knife back in her belt, she eyed intensely, but seemed a little less hostile. Although occasionally her gaze turned toward's the ship arriving, if this person could not be used, she was certain she could think of something to get off this rock.

Paused for only a moment, before pulling a pistol and pointing it at her chest. He held that position for a moment as he thought, then said "This ship is in shambles, but a bit of repairs will get it off the ground. I intend to fix it, then get the hell out of this place." He smiled, putting his pistol back in it's holster. "I don't know who you are, don't care. Don't care where your from, who you used to work for, or what you think of me. I don't need your money, if you have any, don't need your good word or whatever."

"What I do need, is a set of general use tool kit, shouldn't be too hard for you to get a hold of it here. I also need a source of power to recharge the drive core, or this thing isn't going two feet." He stepped inside and past her, his combat knife still extended, "Keep the lip to yourself, I don't want to hear it. You want off this rock, You wanna make a deal, go right ahead, meanwhile I'll get to work."

Only after he had passed her would he retract the blade, and only because he wanted to inspect the damage to the internal systems of the ship. To the woman he would passively state "Tools, Power, Ship, still waiting on you."