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The Multiverse

The 'RIP'

74.5 INK

a part of The Multiverse, by Remæus.

The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place; its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating. Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests". The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.

Nemo holds sovereignty over The 'RIP', giving them the ability to make limited changes.

5,016 readers have been here.

Setting

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The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. Resting at the edge of the gloomy Cursed Woods beneath a massive, spiraling decline of stony stairs, The RIP is quite secluded from the rest of the civilized world. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place, its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating.

Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests".

As a government institution, the RIP is mostly guarded and maintained by the NPA. Enforcers patrol the castle at all times, specially-equipped to pin down even the most aggravated of superhuman inmates. The institution is also equipped with several well-supplied laboratories, the unseemly quantity of powered inmates making the place a breeding ground for scientific inquiry.

All scares and frights aside, The RIP is remarkably equipped, always prepared to accommodate superhumans of every shape and color. While the majority of The RIP is a sprawling prison/asylum, the facility does possess a few cultural outings, particularly the artistically-seasoned atria and lavishly-decorated dormitories. Were it not on the edge of a cursed forest and the home to hundreds of criminally-inclined superbeings, it would have made a nice hotel.

The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.


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The 'RIP'

The Davrell Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals (christened 'The RIP') is the Terran National Government's largest, most secure detention and rehabilitation center for criminals of paranormal or supernatural persuasion. A massive collection of stony towers spiraling out of a Gothic manor, The RIP is a dark place; its intricately designed post-Romanesque architecture both enticing and intimidating. Despite its delicate, artistic appearance, The RIP is one of the most foundationally-sound institutes on Terra, its structure build from a near-indestructible calcyx-marble allatrope blend and laced with a plethora of mighty arcane wards and devout prayers. Responsible for housing and jailing over a thousand "supers" at any given time, The RIP uses only the latest technology, the strongest magics and the most intelligent doctors to secure, control and educate their "guests". The RIP is overseen by director Joran Davrell, a prestigious NPA agent and former university professor.

Minimap

The 'RIP' is a part of The Decline.

11 Places in The 'RIP':

13 Characters Here

Joran Davrell [73] A former university professor, NPA Director and general overseer of The Rehabilitation Institute for Paranormals.
Derrick Rose [6] A former stunt pilot, his skills are still sharp, but his reflexes are a little slower than they used to be.
Maxwell Gilbert [5] I'm an engineer not a goddamn magician! Well... I shouldn't be!
Sgt. Harvey Gladstone [4] "Move like you're being paid to!"
Nyke Demopolous [4] Gorgon's Watch Marine Corp First Division: First Regiment, First Batallion. The FNG
Eden Decimo [4] The False Divinity
Ahmad Fazari [4] Formerly senior aide to Terra's spymaster, and now the Deputy Director of Intelligence.
1st Lt. Mason Harding [4] "I don't care if you took a Bolter to the chest, when I say move, you move!"
Lawrence Artin [3] An older doctor, refined but with a spitfire of a personality.
Brian James [2] "I do what is needed of me, and I do not question it. If my Father wills it, it will be done."

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Character Portrait: Carnaelgaar Cysius Character Portrait: Sazhori
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She could sense dark power. Her black wings formed on her back off her shoulderblades. the ten foot wings streched briefly before she hopped off the building, another leg of cow in her hand as she stepped into the Space marines line of sight. "I did. I was cooking" Sazhori said simply, her voice soft and simple sounding yet with her wings made her look even more powerful as her magic amplified her voice. She tossed aside the meatless leg and crossed her arms, hovering off the ground a good foot or so to be eyelevel with the Marine

Her wings, inblack were absorbing the light, sure the Marine could SEE the wings clearly in the fire but then there wasnt any outlines, no light cast or bouncing off the black feathers. Inkblack in such a way they just absorbed darkness and made it even deeper.

She felt many pairs of eyes on her but she ignored most of them as she also heard whispers, some of them prayers apparently, she saw a few of the Men lower their weapons, one or two dropped to one knee in respect. that was.... unnerving. Her eyes locked on the Space Marine. Golden energies danced on her fingers.....

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Carnaelgaar Cysius Character Portrait: Sazhori
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The Space marine takes a step back as the woman revealed her wings. What!? A living saint in the area? He cant be found out right now! He would fail...and lose his role of power! He forgot the Sisters of Battle had set up a church on the planet! They summoned a living saint!

With a roar of anger the 'Space Marine' Channeled the warp and vanished from the area. As the events cleared a lot of Guardsman arrived in the area. However upon seeing what ressembled a living saint. Many Guardsman fell on their knees as a sign of respect. "Oh honorable living saint! You bless us Guardsman with your presence..."

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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As the energy swirld in a vortex Sazhori raised an arm to shield her face and turned aside until the light show faded. Wait. What just happened ?? Her gaze refocused, her hematite eyes glittering as she looked at the asdembled guardsmen. Well, this was good. She saw two of the five stormtroopers that had tried to flank her upon the building she was eating on. She eased herself forwards then closer to the assembled Men, her gaze going over each.

She came to a older Man, a Sgt by the look of him, with her wings she towered over him as she hovered a half meter off the ground before she settled her feet on the ground. "What you just witnessed. Considering what I know of them...... that was not normal was it.... Captain Halliwell ?" Wait did the Living Saint just promote the poor sun of a bitch who was assigned to this backwater outpost from staff sgt to captain ??

Yes she did

But she also asked him a question. These guys were respectful towards her. First they wanted to shoot her, then they dropped to a knee before her with their heads bowed. She held out a hand to the newly promoted Captain. "Stand up. You and your men are safe." She sensed no ill will from these men anymore. It was as if the sheer cause iof the negative energy was the one that just fled.

Wait

Did she set those explosions to lure that Marine out into the open ?

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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The entire squadron stood up as ordered. "Your holiness ma'm. Forgive us for attacking you, we did not know your were a living saint of the Sacred Rose...But...That was Captain Carnaeleggar of the Fourth Company was he not? Impossible...he used the foul energies of the warp...he is a hero to us all, he defended the city against the dragon known as Draco...You exposed his corruption your holiness! Be beg of thee to warn the Blood Ravens! Their traitor has to be rooted out else his chapter will have more joining Chaos!" A Guardsman pleaded.

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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Sazhori listened with ever growing dread. Unsure of how long she could keep up the charade she decided it was for the berst to keep it going, her Blessed statues and gifts from Light could aid her in this newfound cause. She went thoughtful as she listened to what was told to her. the Men before her were scared, there were roughly three dozen of them and two of them required a medic after that last transport explsion sent one of them into a wall the other on his ankle in the wrong way.

She reached into her feathers on her left arm and withdrew a black cloth. Handing it to the Captain She motioned towards the cut man, glass had cut his arms deeply. the bandage could be of help. "Whatever foul magic he used. Rest assured you are safe here now" She said. She liked these men already. "In form your commanders of what transpired."

She turned to the Guardsmen to speak, asking her to warn the Blood Ravens. "Where can I find them ?" the guardsmen was right, just by the look on his face, the sooner that uinit was warned, the better off these men were. "The sooner they are warned, the safer you are."

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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"W-Well Ma'm...I believe they are within the boundaries of Wing City preparing defenses and maintaining a safe watch. We will inform Imperial Command Ma'm! Right away!" A Guardsman nodded immediantly and began to vox Imperial Command.

Once the news was relayed of course they did not trust it full well, but they would get to their investigations.

For the Injured Guardsman, he was thankful that the Living Saint had gracefully offered a feather to heal his injuries. "T-Thank you ma'm...your truly are kind." The man bowed respectfully. If they did not know better, a Sister of Battle from the Ordo Hospitallier became a living saint.

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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Sazhori smiled and raised her hands as if Prayer and also bowed to the injured Man. the magic within the feather could heal the most gravest of injuries. And by the look of things, the Man, quite young at that, looked to risk losing his entire right arm. And Sazhori couldnt have that, no, this young man could indeed be healed good and proper.

Her wings spread. She turned back to Captain Halliwell. "I shall inform the unit of the trator within their ranks. If I am not back in three days. Come after me. Trust the feather" She turned towards the injured Guardsmen who now held the key to keeping the Unit as a whole safe.

And if the need arose, to find her and bring her to safety.

Sazhori smiled and patted the Captain twice on the shoulder. "Sorry about the mess Captain. I will have it cleaned up when the firesd die out" She said softly. With that she took two steps backwards and with her wings spread wide lifted off the ground and flew off. It was time to make some new friends. Friends she felt.... worth protecting

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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The entire squadron watched as the Living Saint left. By the Emperor...she was nice! Not only did she root out a corrupted marine. She gracefully helped an Imperial Guardsman by healing his injuries.

However soon a Sanctioned Psyker arrived in the area. With the threat of Chaos, Imperium command decided to be wise and check up on this squadron. After a few minutes have passed the man easily concluded his findings. "Everything checks out here...you guys are free of any taint. And that wounded man looks better. Must be the work of the Emperor this day, you were all lucky, Imperial Command was ready to erase you all."

"Thank the Emperor...Maybe I can get one of those catgirls..."

"Really? After what just happened that's still on your mind? Jeeze..."

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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An hour later

Barely an hour later, and just moments after the arrival of the Psyker to check up on the unit had arrived and was making his second round to ensure the unit was properly clean of the taint of Chaos did the sound of flapping wings be heard. Powerful wings. And a calm wind.

In the fading fire of the burned out building that still smoldered an outline formed. There was no doubt the Living Saint who had lured out and chased away a tainted Space Marine had returned.

But it also raised the hackles of the Psyker sent to check on the Unit.

Yet when Sazhori arrived within the sight of the main building of the Motor Pool where the newly appounted Captain Halliwell was instructing his men to protect the grounds good and proper did he notice the movements of his men dropping to a knee as Sazhori floated into view hoving a half meter off the ground her wings spread wide and beautiful.

Seeing Halliwell she said simply while ignorning the Psyker "It is done"

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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The Guardsman had praise and cheers of approval, however the Psyker looked at the woman and could not belive the stupidity of these Guardsman. "You fools! That's not a Living Saint! She does not serve the Emperor, I can sense this clear as day!" The man pointed at the woman.

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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Forturnately for her Captain Halliwell had done some earshing, Who had black wings and was a Living Saint ? Well, one of the beloved Living Saints fo the Order of the Black Feather that was who. And if she had tested them, luring out a tainted Space Marine...

And now this Sykper was telling his men and he that she wasnt a Living Saint....

Sazhori raised a hand when Haslliwell was about to speak, turning her hematite fgaze towards the screaming lunatic. In it the men saw a black feather, like a dagger. Halliwell smirked, he knew exactly what that feather meant. It was how the Order of the Black Feather worked! They used feathers off their wings or in their daggers in order to destroy their targets.

And yet the way Sazhori flicked the feather skillfully in her fingers.... "Actually" She said simply, her voice echoing as she stared directly at the psyker, "I do serve the Emperor. I was the bodyguard of his Son. And if you wish to question that.... then ask instead why a Space Marine Chapter trusted me enough to discover a trator in their ranks..... Unless"

She raised a hand, "You wish to question me..." she said lifting her hand, making the Psyker rise off the ground. "Do you doubt my word ? Or the word of these Men who witnessed one so revered flee my presence in chaotic power ? Or should these men doubt the truth they witnessed before them an hour ago when you tyourself could not detect the tainted one ?" Her eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire. Sheer pure power flowed from her fingers and spread upon her wings.

Yep, she was a Living Saint alright, she had the skills, the abilites, and the powers

Yet she wasnt going to harm or kill anyone else, no, that wasnt her intent, as quickly as the urge to break the idiots neck it fled her mind and she set the Psyker gently on his feet, still staring at him, the featrher in her hand once more flicking almost boredly between her fingers.

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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The Psyker went wide eyed as the woman lifted him off the ground. I-Impossible, she did not have the Emperors light yet she acted like a living Saint! And she says that even the mighty space marines trusted her. As she let him down he took a breath. "F-Fine...I'll accept this for now...You may be assisting us...But so be it..." The man turned away and began to leave. He could not trust that thing for a second, it may act like a saint but it was no true saint of the Emperor.

Setting

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori Character Portrait: Figment
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Sazhotri watched him as he marched off, his walking stick thumping on the hard tarmac ground. She saw from far off a dark shadow near the old fart. A smirk was on the Living Saint's face. Turning to the Gardsmen she said simply with regard to the Psyker "Who was that ?" She shook her head "Better question, what was that ?"

A few dozen meters away near to the main barracks building a being dressed in matte black clothing stepped out of the shadows. "You insulted a Saint psyker, this is cause of death" Not even the Emperor fully knew of the Order of the Black Feather; Only three people did and two of them were in the Offico Assassino, and the other was one of the High Lords. Oversight they were called the three of them. They founded the Order of the Black Feather rather well

A black feather was in the womans black gloved hand. Ready for use. She had waited for her prey to fall into her trap as the null field activated as he stepped into it. Perfect! The woman dresased in black even had her face covered, only bright pink eyes were visible through her faceless mask. She waited for the words from ther Psyker in his own defense

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori Character Portrait: Figment
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The psyker growled as he fell for the trap. Of course, the religious nuts of the Imperium. He was dead, he knew it. He had no fear, only anger. "I know I cannot save my own life...but I will be damned if you all follow a false prophet! She has the wool pulled over all of your eyes! She is no saint of the Imperium! A fraud! I rather die speaking the truth than die begging! This is an insult to the Emperor himself! I curse you assassin!" The man spoke with narrowed eyes.

He simply grabbed his las-pistol ready to fight until his blood spilled. He knew he was dead...

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Character Portrait: The Imperial Guard Character Portrait: Sazhori
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The eyes seemed to glow brightly in laughter as the woman laughed "Many have, none of them stuck. Curses on your fellow Man dont end well Psyker. You know that" Faster than he could track the Assassin was before him, then next to him. "Curses have a tendancy to fail, or backfire." The woman said in his ears.

it was the last thing he ever heard as steel met flesh and a feather picked his brain... what was left of it. the mechanical and cybernetic enhancements to his cranium shattered at impact with the natual magics of the feather. And for a brief instant he felt peace..... then peaceful death, his soul free to entertain the Emperor

"Rust in peace" the assassin said fading into the darkness before stepping into Sazhori's line of sight.

Sazhori saw it all; With a nod from the other somehow Sazhori had made herself into something she never intended, a hero. and to these men who followed blind faith.... a true Living Saint

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Character Portrait: Gil Isom
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#, as written by Rulke
It was rare for LogicRoad Pharmaceuticals to do business directly with Terra, after all, there were dangers of investing in Terra Market. In economic terms, it was considered generally a non-starter. With the constant regime changes natural or unnatural disasters combined with the overall political climate being more wobbly than dancing on a Volcano - metaphorical or otherwise. Investing in Terra in any way what so ever just begged for conflict. So papers and news media were extremely puzzled a Triple-A company was so interested in The RIP formally owned by Joran Davrell who had vanished in last few years. This had left the place in what could only be called a total state of disrepair and also certain elements of society had taken to squatting and using the locale to avoid the law and enact their own twisted views of society whether legal or not.

They would, of course, be driven out. LogicRoad interests from a first glance seem totally philanthropic, at a first glance that is. Of course with secret accounts and rumours of outside interest. There were concerns their conflicts may be even dicier than otherwise seen.

Some even suggested there was intent that the new Facility would be made into something far more unscrupulous. Eros, the master of calming the crowd promised that any concerns of this were unwarranted and he only wished to invest in this facility to provide a place for those in society too dangerous or needing extra care would be provided with the utmost care.

The group tasked with clearing the facility was Gorgon Watch a cut-throat organization heavily respected by Terran people, although by those of Non-Terran heritage largely considered militaristic or ruthless. Yet, they were known for results and LogicRoad was paying them triple the rate. The caveat was that it must be cleared within two days or their leader was being commanded by LogicRoad to carpet bomb the place if the area was not clear at that time.

That was the set-up and if Gorgon Watch succeeded they would be provided with a service where any dangerous criminal could be rehabilitated under their service. Of course, not all merely those who are murderers not serial killers or such.

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Character Portrait: Gil Isom Character Portrait: Maxwell Gilbert
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No credit chit, no ride, no comms hardware he could figure out how to use, and thrown out the hospital door in wing city. He awoke in mid-air barely remembering approaching some sewer machinery. As well as some jokers with weapons filling him full of holes while he lay there.

Dark robed men standing in the elevator only stayed for a few questions about his situation before he went quiet too long and they closed the door to leave. He knew where the LZ was with his machinegun as weird-looking as his armor was so better get back to Hq he supposed. What the hell happened! There were a lot more questions than answers and the hospital staff didn't know a damn thing. They did tell him that others were there looking for him.

Theoretically at least he had his sidearm to pass the time for that long walk. He could taste the dirt in a mouth he couldn't find and everything felt just plain warm. Some hour later he got the heebie jeebies when he could suddenly feel the outside of his armor with a dusty wind scraping across it. In order to keep his mind off the irrational need to itch everything he'd stripped the gun a bit to see the size changes and they'd turned the gun into some sort of ferrous capsule launcher at the center of a minigun. He wasn't even sure how it generated electricity but the thing was definitely live! Scorched his fingers on a damned huge white crystal armored in the handle with a lot of thin grey strings. Barrel was larger too with some half-nanite object regulating amperage. Frame of the chaingun was heavy as shit by the momentum moving it around but didn't feel that heavy to him holding it up. He was fairly sure it wasn't charged up yet so it couldn't fire but couldn't explain why he knew. Either way mucking with it passed the time until he managed to find someone to hitch a ride to the Rip. At least they were liked enough for the civvies to offer a ride to someone carrying a weird glowing chaingun. He did still have the gorgon's watch emblem on his shoulder.

They dropped him off as far as they'd get which wasn't too close given the hostile area. He double timed it up the long road eager to get to his squad and back to work. There was a mental reckoning coming for the shit he'd been into and putting it off seemed the very best plan right now. As he saw vehicles he recognized he stopped and raised two fingers straight into the air.

His voice was loud and angry, though it certainly was Maxwell's dulcet furor, emerging from pinpricks of amber light in his faceplate, "HEY! WHICH ONE OF YOU RAT FUCKERS TOLD THE CREEPY BASTARDS AT THE HOSPITAL TO 'TAKE CARE OF ME BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!'"

The chaingun hung by his side by its mid-handle more than large enough that he ought to need a husk to carry it, but the thick armor already made him fairly large.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nyke Demopolous Character Portrait: Gorgon Infantry Corps Character Portrait: Maxwell Gilbert Character Portrait: Sgt. Harvey Gladstone Character Portrait: 1st Lt. Mason Harding
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A strange thing was happening in The Decline, the usually tomb-like streets had begun to seethe with life. A veritable sea of life had set up shop surrounding the ancient RIP building. Every street for miles was blocked off with concrete-alloy barricades, each alleyway, and off street had been converted to makeshift Ranges. Faitges as far as the eye could see.

Armored Jeeps with heavy EM turrets wove between groups of soldiers, while alleys flashed red with ceaseless laser fire. Fumes, and crisp, burnt target paper choked the air.

It was pure, absolute heaven to First Lieutenant Mason Harding.

The gruff Thirty-Nine year old Officer stood in his preferes spot, the direct middle of everything, barking orders left, right, and center. His booming baritone carried over even the loudest Jeep.

With absolute glee he whirled around, addressing soldier after soldier that had amassed around him. "Jenkins," he snarled, his voice carrying that distinct military tone. "I want Overwatch feed in the CT two hours ago, get it or I'm sending you in for Commando Live Fire!" He waved the man off vigorously.

"Sir, yes sir!"

Without hesitation he turned to the next man. "Karigg!" He snapped, sounding an awful lot like a displeased D.I. "Where the in all the countless hells are my grenade crates?"

"Sir, I don't know sir!"

Time seemed to freeze, every soldier went corpse-rigid, except the Lt.

"Ex-frickin'-cuse me, you bucked tooth little gnat?" He stabbed a heavy finger at the man. "We did not train, equip, and feed your dumb ass to know," saliva flew as his green eyes flashed with anger. "We invested in you, so that either you can bring me my goddamn grenade crates, I serve as target practice."

He stared the man down without mercy, drawing himself up to fill height, and glaring. Large, brutish looking, and an experienced warrior, The Lt. carried the weight most Officers didnt.

"Do I make myself clear?" He hissed.

"Sir, yes sir!

Harding nodded in approval. "Dismissed."

He was about to address another soldier, but someone beat him to the punch.

"HEY! WHICH ONE OF YOU RAT FUCKERS TOLD THE CREEPY BASTARDS AT THE HOSPITAL TO 'TAKE CARE OF ME BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!'"

The entire street froze, three soldiers tripped, six rifles went off, and two Jeeps almost collided.

Every eye there defaulted to the Lt.


The man's stone-like face was slowly gripped by rage. An armored arm shot up, pushing two men aside with relative ease. A very pissed Harding stepped forward, striding until I was free of the crowd, and steps away from Maxwell.

The entire time his steely gaze was locked on the cyborg's face plate.

"The 'rat fucker' that told the hospital to save your increasingly worthless ass," He spoke cooly, not monotone, but pure contempt. "Is me, and by me," He stood at attention, his COBRA Var1 hanging at his side elegantly. "I mean the man you are to address as Sir, or Your One True Savior.

He looked the man up, and down intently, he sure looked like he could get the job done. Still, Harding wasn't sure how integrating one of the usually narcissistic Commandos was going to work. Only one way to find out.

Bristling as he spoke, he never wavered his gaze.

"As of 0200 tho morning, The GWPS Squad, Nightviper, was officially wiped out. A critically injured you was all that was recovered." He sneered a little. "A few G.I Generals throught, for a reason beyond me, that you might be useful to us in the field."

The troops around him whispered, most excited at the thought of working with a Commando.

"So, and news son, you've been drafted." Lt. Harding nodded somewhat earnestly. "You are now the entire Infantry Corps of Engineers. If anything in my army breaks, Private Gilbert, it is your ass my boot shall seek. Welcome aboard." With that he turned back to the men around him.

He issued a few more orders before motioning towards Pvt. Gilbert. Once the soldiers around him dispersed, he turned around rather gracefully, and began to take off. He assumed the Engineer for the order to follow, assuming so, he addressed him.

"Welcome to First Battalion," grunted Harding. "You'll be with me, and a few other semi-competent soldiers in Knight Squad." He side stepped an oncoming Jeep. "We'll be leading Platoon A in this shit show." He turned left into the main street, it was even more crowded.

Range instructors, and makeshift ranges were everywhere. Shouts, and live fire consumed the sound scape. Harding had to tell just to be heard.

"My condolences about your squad, by the way," This time a hard right, it emptied into a large alley. At the dead end in the back sat a large, ratty canvas tent.

Harding jerked a finger towards it. "Welcome to HQ," he said rather flatly. "The rest of Knight, along with the other teams are in there, prepping." He pivoted to face the Private.

"Go meet your new family, Tinman."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nyke Demopolous Character Portrait: Gorgon Infantry Corps Character Portrait: Maxwell Gilbert Character Portrait: Sgt. Harvey Gladstone Character Portrait: 1st Lt. Mason Harding
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Gilbert saluted his superior as nonetheless he was obedient. The lack of a certain sound had made him a little hasty. He followed quietly in a more respectful tone started a short debriefing, "It won't happen again, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Survived is a strong word, Sir, they said I'm 'of Jinhai' now. Glad to be back to serve the corps; I'll hold everything together."

Listening to the periodic debriefing he eyed the soldiers around him looking on as the suit hud curiously marked them all as friendlies categorized 'Humankind'. Same thing the Jinhai called him at first on the slab. The suits normally didn't have this kind of ops package it was analyzing everything at once and he found it hard to keep up. Lines were popping up with firing solutions as soldiers fired and there was something that struck him as stiff and inadequate the way he turned his head to look at them. Some part of it already started collecting facial data on people behind him he wasn't looking at. Ones in earshot he did look at a moment too long a transcribed conversation window started to appear. First order of business was paring down this UI how the hell was he supposed to pay attention to everything? Assuming he could find the controls. Now suit processing busily tried to connect to ops like it had no sense of non-combat.

Gilbert had a powerful need to remove his helmet and hands went up to do so but stopped short as harding offered condolences, "I'll miss the squad sir but I'm glad to be back home."

When he pointed out the tent Gilbert looked on and saluted, "Sir, Yes Sir! I should report that i'm reasonably sure I'm not a cyborg but I don't know what they've done exactly. I don't have any breathing as far as I can tell but it definitely wasn't the hospital that put me together. Some meat locker underneath it with hundreds of half-built civvies and dusty humanoids in black. They brought finished ones back to life somehow but I didn't see the package or any of my squad before they put me under if there are bodies missing. Suit hud medical is completely non-standard where the only thing I recognize is bone integrity which makes no sense with everything else missing. My minigun has some stats and strange tech installed but operable. Along with a high ammo rebuild it estimates 20 liters of nanites available. It'll take a some downtime to investigate. Not sure what the rest of me is made of since that's roughly 30 liters too low. Minigun does suppressive fire with the quickness now though but I need to identify its added functions."

He would wait a moment to see if the Lt had anything for him in reply then head into the tent.

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Character Portrait: Nyke Demopolous Character Portrait: Gorgon Infantry Corps Character Portrait: Maxwell Gilbert Character Portrait: Sgt. Harvey Gladstone Character Portrait: 1st Lt. Mason Harding
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The respectful tone was a pleasant surprise, and with each "Sir!" The Officer relaxed a little. He was quite happy to snap a salute in return. The whole concept of taking an elite, multi-million dollar GWPS Commando, and busting him down to a Private of the Corps was trying. To put it kindly, Harding had been a little high string about it.

Mostly because he desperately needed a few thousand engineers, but partly because he half expected the Commando to shoot him on site.

When the Ferro-Soldier mentioned being home, he smiled, a very rare thing indeed. That line alone told him all he needed to know. He was about to say something when Gilbert started to debrief. He listened intently, making mental notes of all keywords. His eyebrow peaked at the mention of an underground lab, and his heart fell a little at the word "Jinhai."

"Shit on a Gods-damned stick," he grunted, his hands balling into fists. He had limited experience with them, and he wasn't a fan. Plus the thought of a Jinhai "Medical Facility" operating underground on Terra was a real pisser. One they'd have to sort out soon. Still, he kept his mouth shut as Gilbert spoke.

He hadn't been told anything about Nightvipers mission, so it was a bit intriguing. When the Cyborg-thing finished he nodded. It was a lot to take in, and the wheels of his mind were already turning, trying to figure out how to beat utilize the new addition. There just wasn't enough time now, too many things to do, in too many places.

"Thanks for the debrief, Private," he gestured to the CT again. "When you get inside look for Sgt. Gladestone. He's medical for Knight, son. He'll take a look at you, set you straight." Harding turned on his heels, and began to stride back into the fray. He turned back for a second, tapping his watch at Golbert. "Mingle quick, I'll be back in thirty, because we'll be guns hot in thirty-one, soldier." With that he left.


The Command Tent was a rather shabby thing. A simple, oversized green canvas structure at the end of a dark alley. It was generic military start to finish, and it even still had that new tent smell. It contained a few cheap aluminum benches, a bunch of folding tables, and a good twenty people jockeying around like mad.

The back wall was lined with a floor to ceiling holo-screen, serving as a nervous-center for on-scene Intel, and Command. It covered as many bases as it could. The middle was dedicated to a full 3D layout, and grid of The RIP. Windowed sections on either side displayed hypothetical assault progression, live feed from all four Overwatch Snipers, and complete vitals of every soldier deployed.

To help process, and sort this each side-wall of the tent was lined with folding tables, an analyst assigned to each. They worked feverousishly in their dataslates, ignoring the world around them.

Somewhere in the fray each member of Knight was busy doing whatever they felt most useful. Chances are though, if Gilbert entered, every head would turn.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nyke Demopolous Character Portrait: Gorgon Infantry Corps Character Portrait: Maxwell Gilbert Character Portrait: Sgt. Harvey Gladstone Character Portrait: 1st Lt. Mason Harding
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The yellow eyes nodded at the Lt from under the armored cowl with a salute, "I'll have my waders ready for hell with bells on, Sir."

When he got to the tent it sank in his height was off as he had to duck to get in the door. Not much, but just enough that he was taller than average. The commando engineers tended to pack exosuits over snakeskin armor to loft 15kg of gun and ammo not to mention pound through doors and other things. He might have run halfway here but exos weren't all that fast. His was now something integrated in between with more range of motion to the power assist. The slits his armor glowed yellow inside showing him in the dark one-handing by top handle a damned 35kg self-charging minigun marked with dusky blue. The design of the minigun looking Gorgon mostly by the recognizable parts it repeated for the multiple barrel system. Same with his armor. Some parts of both sported faint markings from his squad's possessions that'd been harvested to produce them. Who knew where the black robed bastards even got the designs from. A lot of Knight sitting here were in light fatigues by comparison.

He felt conspicuously overdressed.

If the noise stopped it was likely highlighted by his vitals monitor added to the ops board with a happy little death tone. At least until someone squelched it. The suit happily responded to control and analyst systems requests though its encryption keys were likely now dated if not marked for recall due to the mission that wiped the rest of his squad. he knew he'd be a bit of a giant database anomaly if the suit was dialing in at all. Gilbert just sighed inwardly and had the urge to try and remove his helmet again.

The armored face-plate looked at the closest sort not overly focused with something as the pinpricks of yellow let his voice through, "Private Gilbert reporting for duty. I heard you guys needed a stand up fusillade kind of engineer. Could you tell me where Sgt. Gladstone is?"