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The Multiverse

Wing City Spaceport

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a part of The Multiverse, by Remæus.

You have arrived at the grand Wing City Spaceport, where all space-faring traffic in and out of the city arrives. There are launch towers for older models of spacecraft, and quantum-distortion field panels for the newer gravitational assistance system.

Remæus holds sovereignty over Wing City Spaceport, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

6,207 readers have been here.

Setting

You have arrived at the grand Wing City Spaceport, where all space-faring traffic in and out of the city arrives. There are launch towers for older models of spacecraft, and quantum-distortion field panels for the newer gravitational assistance system.
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Wing City Spaceport

You have arrived at the grand Wing City Spaceport, where all space-faring traffic in and out of the city arrives. There are launch towers for older models of spacecraft, and quantum-distortion field panels for the newer gravitational assistance system.

Minimap

Wing City Spaceport is a part of Wing City.

77 Characters Here

Katie Brighton [132] "It does not matter what you do, as long as what you do is what you know is good."
Tenna [85] Merc work has its paydays. Got my ship and my rifle, and I'm good to go.
Odgerel [76] She is athletic and stands over six feet tall. Her hair hangs lose, silky black that tends to reflect blue. Her eyes are the bright blue of a welder's torch. She has two tattoos, a golden phoenix on her belly and stylized fire covering her right arm.
Tasi [72] A Lone Quarian, handy with a gun
Lexia Nitiena [67] I'm not weak. I quit. That makes me stronger than a lot of people. Even if I'm weaker than you.
Nagumi Yamata [67] Gundam Pilot and college student.
Zephan [58]
Eve-Va [55] A being who was sent out from her war torn home world in search for a way to re-Terraform her planet. She is a cruel individual who will mercilessly kill anyone who where to stand in her way. She follows a strict no outside interference policy....
Aeidail [55] She is a very wealthy and high born woman. She thinks highly of herself and is a great fighter with a blade
Sam Felixis [55] Drink, fight, fight again, go to bed. My day in a nutshell.

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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#, as written by Prose
The lack of a true response of Marcus was the tipping point for Grove. Her jaw clenched at his short replies and it was easily seen that her temper was flaring up into full gear. There was a loud clatter against her plate as the capsuleer released her fork and it fell harshly against the metallic material. She tore her gaze away from Marcus and settled it on the immaculate floor. It was an attempt to calm herself, but not more than ten seconds later did she bolt up from her chair, grab the edge of the table, and flip it sideways.

"That's it! That's fuckin' it. I am done. I am done, Marcus," Grove yelled out at the top of her voice. It was actually pretty surprising how much the woman could actually project her voice. "Here I am trying to help you fuckin' kill yourself because you're too chicken shit to deal with the pain you've gone through in your life," she said while rushing to him, whether he remained sitting or standing, so that her face wasn't but a few inches from his. "All I wanted was one simple thing and I would have helped you do anything that needed to be fuckin' done. I just wanted you to talk and open up to me, but you're not doing it, damnit!"

Grove made wild gestures during her entire angered rant, pointing at herself or at Marcus, and sometimes even waving her arms around like some lunatic. "I have spent two days with you now and poured out my fuckin' heart and soul and experiences and all the bad shit that I've been through as a capsuleer. Shit, if I would have known that you weren't going to man up like a real Terran, I wouldn't have said a damn thing in the first place and blown you off at that bullshit of a bar!" The woman wanted nothing more than to slap Marcus across the face and then proceed to beat the living shit out of him. It took a lot of will power to turn away from him, and take out her hostility on her chair instead. Needless to say that it went flying across the room and into another dining set.

"Damnit ... fuckin' ... shit!"

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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#, as written by Ottoman
[color=black]His response was rather immediate, reacting in a more reflexive manner to the angered Scatterran as she bellowed at the man, Marcus' eyes widening as he withstood the brunt of her ridicule, looking with eyes that stood somewhere between terror and surprise as she closed with him. Marcus withstood it, his practice from days of dealing with his superiors and their displeasure doing him some good with this, though their berating never bore such fire or intensity.

He remained unmoving for the duration, somehow, as her emotions seemed to detonate, and thus he stayed until she turned away, at which point his gaze followed her, though his mind still resided on her words. It wasn't so much the volume or the suddenness of the tirade which had struck him so deeply, but rather just the message -- because it was true. He was a coward, a man who deserved no pity for his decisions, and for a moment he thought he understood just why it was he wanted to die again.

He forgot that as his hand had, unintentionally, made its way to his left breast pocket, as it did in times when he was uncertain. Always he kept this blouse pocket empty, save for one singular content, which he now reached for, unbuttoning the flap with little concentration. Several moments of silence occupied the space between them thereafter, Marcus only interrupting it with the statement: "I loved them. Very much." He shifted, for the first time she had risen, his gaze from Grove to the single weathered band that rested between his index and thumb, the golden ring tarnished with life in a man's working garment for the past two years. "What do you want me to tell you?" He asked, a slight undertone present in his voice, "How I met her? How the house looked? How I wasn't even given the chance to meet my daughter?" A sigh wracked his body as he finished with the words, looking to his tray for a moment as his face was slowly consumed with anger. He wished it was directed at Grove, though he knew he was its

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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#, as written by Ottoman
target.

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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#, as written by Prose
A groan came forth from Grove and she rolled her eyes with her back still present to Marcus. If even one look was given to him at that moment, she would not have been able to hold herself back any longer. The Azrick opened her mouth as if to say something but, she clenched it closed again. Even if she was furious at the man, it was always wise to choose the words that you spoke during an argum—no, fuck that shit, she thought to herself before wheeling around to face him.

"You're still fuckin' up Marcus. Even now. You do nothing but ask me what you should talk about when you should being doing that shit all on your own. You're afraid to take a damn initiative in conversation. I am trying my fuckin' hardest to help you out here, but I've made no progress with you at all. If you can't accept the pain that you are in now, Marcus, you're not going to be able to accept the pain of death. You may not think that's important but I," Grove said while slowing walking towards him, a finger prodded into her own chest," know what's on the other side and I know what your body and your soul gets stuck in after death. Damnit, I get to wake up from it and move on. I'm the lucky one. When you die, if you still hold all this bullshit inside of you, do you honestly think that death is going to be any easier than what you're going through now ... "

And for the first time since Grove was known by her true name, tears welled up in her eyes from showing emotion.

"Do you think that I didn't feel the same pain that you're dealing with right now when Silas died—my husband and the love of my life for seventy-one years to this day. Do you know how hard it is for me sometimes to not think of him every waking second of my life? Do you think that I don't still carry the memory of watching Silas die in my arms because I was something they were afraid of. Me. Not him," Grove said while the torrent of tears continued.

"You have to let it go or it will destroy you, Marcus."

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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#, as written by Ottoman
"What kind of initiative can a man take who can't even protect his own God-damn family?!" Marcus too could project his voice, his time in the service reflecting well on him as his response was immediate and likely the most vehement one out of him in quite some time, at least since the Aschen decided to hang about the bar. As familiar as she was with the subject, she didn't strike him as the most faithful of individuals, surely she didn't grow up with faith being as integral part of her life as it was his. Or did she know to see it all come crashing down, a final, sickening proof that the God to whom he had prayed for well over twenty years of his life didn't exist. What kind of God would make such a thing happen in the first place, much less force you to watch it enacted from orbit. You live and then you die. Plain enough.

So convicted was he in his mind that he didn't bother, until now as he looked to Lara, to see that she too suffered, that tears now occupied the eyes of this harsh woman. He glanced as he listened, to his hand, which had instinctively drawn the wedding band in with his thumb to protect it in a fist. Loosening his hand with time, Sheffield looked in to the spartan piece that used to straddle his finger, the light of the room reflecting off of it in a soft glint, taking in the sight for some time. Slowly he tilted his hand until the ring slid off of it and landed on the table.

"It's why I drink." He admitted, the point of shame rather strong for the man, who, in his faith, rejected the vice for so many of his younger years, God disallowing such a thing. With tears in his own eyes, he added, glancing to her as he did, "There's no other way for me to stop thinking about it."

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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#, as written by Prose
The ring falling from Marcus's hand thundered in the ears of Grove causing the woman to flinch. It took only a glance down to see what he had dropped and it made her heart drop down into the pit of her stomach. Here she was, attacking a man for mourning the death of his family. Grove felt shame and guilt creeping up to mix with her angry and frustration, creating a nasty concoction of emotion. It had taken her several life times to finally realize that Silas wasn't coming back from the dead and that he wasn't a part of her life anymore. Yet, here she was forcing a man to release his grief in a fraction of her mourning period. She was such a hypocrite.

Grove's body relaxed, more noticeably at the shoulders, and then released a sigh. She wiped her tears away and studied Marcus while he spoke. "Damn it all," she muttered to herself while eyeing the ring and then she plucked it up with her fingers. "That's not what I was saying, Marcus," Grove said calmly. "You don't have to stop thinking about them. I think about Silas every single day and pray every night before I sleep that I get to see him in my dreams. You're looking at things from the wrong point of view again," she said while reaching for his hand. If he allowed her to touch him, Grove would place the ring into his palm while meeting his gaze.

"You keep thinking about how horrible it feels to have lost them and how wrong it was that they were taken from you. You can't think about their deaths, Marcus. You have to remember the life that you shared with your wife when she was still alive, and what life would have been if your child was still living to this day. That is what I mean by letting go—you can't wallow in grief for the remainder of your life. If there is some sort of afterlife and we're both wrong, you think they would want you to be behaving the way that you are now. In my opinion, I think your wife would be ashamed," Grove said, not afraid that her last statement could have angered him or hurt him.

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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#, as written by Ottoman
Her movement for the ring caused an immediate stir in his heart, the base desire to protect the only physical link he still shared with that life welling up for a moment to near a crescendo, though his body refused to react, as if cemented. He looked to the table again for a moment, unsure, largely, as to whether he felt well concerning the matter or not. All he knew for certain was that his mind dwelt on the past now, that for the moment he could remember Ilsa's face without qualm, what he could recall of Alexander's, and the conjecture of Farah. She would've been a beautiful girl, just like her mother.

He couldn't linger on such thoughts, however, as both the tears etching the lines of his cheeks and the ring pressed back into his hand demanded his attention. Marcus looked to Lara, listening to what she had to say with redoubled interest since such thoughts returned to his mind. There seemed to be an energy in them absent elsewhere, imbuing him with a sense of being, if not one that ushered with it sadness. If his cheeks could find any more color they would with Grove's suggestion, and for a moment he couldn't meet her gaze. Ilsa possessed a strong dislike for drunks, as did her family, and to think that now he was reduced to that...

"She would be." He muttered, sighing as he did and looking to the ring before returning his eyes to look up to Grove's, "I'm sorry. About this."

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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#, as written by Prose
Grove rose up a hand at the apology in a flash moment of annoyance at the apology. "Stop. Apologizing, Marcus," she said assertively. "Take responsibility for your own damn feelings. You shouldn't worry about the reaction of others when you express them. Stand up for yourself," Grove lectured while stooping to pick up the spilt Stovnoski bottle. More than half its contents were gone but it was more than enough for Grove to achieve a more non-lucid state.

She rose the bottle to her lips and said," You know if I had known you'd be this much trouble, I'd have punched you in the face and walked away the first time you spoke to me," before tipping her head back and taking a good swig of the amazing strong drink. Grove closed her eyes after the harsh swallow and just reveled in the punch to her taste buds and the molten lava trailing down into the pit of her belly. She was going to drink until the world literally melted away so that she could get lost in old memories ... even if the ship was going to be ready to launch by tomorrow afternoon.

"So, are you sure you're ready to do what needs to be done, Marcus. Are you going to actually let all that negative shit go and accept that they're gone," she said while staring him directly in the eyes. "I am not going to let you die with all this grief. No one deserves to be stuck in limbo with nothing but those thoughts for all eternity. You want to see them again, the right way, you're going to have to stop remembering them for the wrong reasons."

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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#, as written by Ottoman
Responsibility. That was a thing that had been foreign to him for quite some time, and even if he was something of a lowly NCO he never truly felt it. He mused on matters that had transpired whilst she had her way with her vice, and for the most part he considered just how he treated the memories of his family, what, in all cases, should be his pride and joy, no matter their state. It was a sorry realization that he treated them in a manner not dissimilar to shame, that he rarely touched on their subject save for the most unpleasant of times.

He hung his head by this time, and looked to nothing but his own boots as he leaned forward in his seat, not daring to meet Grove's gaze now. Eventually, however, he did manage to speak, after several long moments of deliberation, "I would give anything to look at them one more time." He glanced up now, daring a peek towards Lara, shaking his head as he repeated solemnly, "Anything." Was this what it felt like? To know that they were gone, now and forever, save for what he recalled in his heart and mind?

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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'It's too bad you're not a capsuleer," Grove silently thought to herself. It was easily enough to download and upload memories in order to view them again—keep the memory fresh so that they never faded into a gray fog. She didn't mention the perk for the fear of creating envy between them. Last thing that Marcus needed was the woman telling him she could see her dead lover anytime she pleased. Grove knew that it would crush him even more so than the man already was at that time.

"I know how you feel," Grove said while placing her free hand on his shoulder as if to comfort. "I would do anything to see Silas again as well."

After saying that, the Azrick didn't know much else to say. Silence grew thick in the mess hall once more. It was the first time Grove felt lonely on a ship.

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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#, as written by Ottoman
Marcus did little to stop her hand, if anything he seemed to display a hint of surprise by its arrival, though he soon returned to his thoughts concerning Isla, Alexander and Farah. Lara was right in almost every capacity, that he should endeavor to recall such names and faces with pride and happiness, to recall the joy he felt when he slipped the ring onto her finger or when Alex had made one of those picture frames out of a paper plate. What he would give to just relive one of these memories for but a moment... he couldn't comprehend what he'd do.

With his gaze still arrayed towards the table for some time, his hand soon found itself lightly placed upon her arm, though his eyes now struck for his hand, the clenched fist encircling the artifact of his former life. "... thank you." He managed the words, which, despite their hushed tone, rang like a crash to the man in the silent cavern. Slowly he slipped the ring back into his breast pocket, offering a glance to Lara as he repeated himself, his voice, though relived in some way, still maintaining an air of exasperation, "Thank you."

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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The touch on her arm made Grove tense and throw an involuntary look of hostility towards Marcus. She didn't mean it. The woman had merely been caught by surprise due to the fact that she hadn't been touched in a very long time, especially by a male. The expression died away almost as quickly as it had reared its head but still beneath Grove's clothes, she remained on edge. It was one thing to make physical contact with someone for the capsuleer, and it was another to be voluntarily touched. It was uncomfortable in the awkward sense.

"Yeah," Grove mumbled," you really don't need to thank me." Drawing in a breath of air slowly, she released it just as slowly while pulling away from Marcus's hand. It didn't take her any time at all to lift the Stovnoski right back to her lips and give it a small chug. That decision was a bad idea. Grove ended up coughing after the third swallow, the alcohol being too much for her palette, causing her to go into a uncontrollable fit. It took quite a while to calm her lungs down, but when she did, Grove could do nothing but laugh.

It was pathetic laughter but laughter all the same.

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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The man was, for the most part, oblivious to whatever unpleasantries that Grove harbored in her mind, still largely concentrating on things as they were for his family and him coming to terms with... well, whatever it was he had left besides his family. Nothing really managed to stand out as vividly, however, as they did, even thoughts of his hometown, though beautiful, evoked little in comparison. The arm dropped as she pulled away, and he was content to allow both of his hands to rest in eachother's company, his eyes unfocused with his mind's journeys. Offering her a glance with the onset of her coughing, he was worried in the immediate sense but soon relaxed as it seemed that nothing was terribly amiss.

With a sigh he looked from her to the room at large, and the plate before him. Waiting a few moments, offering a hushed chuckle, forced to accompany her own, he eventually spoke, his suggestion coming quietly as he rose from his seat, "... I should be back to my quarters." With the offer of a brief nod, he started on his way out.

He had a deal to reflect on with this.

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Character Portrait: Lara Grove
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Feeling the sensation of losing maneuverability in her limbs, Grove knew that drunkenness was quickly coming upon her. It was almost a relief that Marcus had decided to go to his quarters. Grove looked down at the bottle in her hands and knew that it was going to be a short night for her.

"H-Hey, Marcus," Grove called out before he left the room," ... goodnight. We leave tomorrow." And then with an air of finality, she offered him a sad smile before ducking around him in the doorway. Grove started walking down the dim hallways towards the bridge and never said a word more that night.

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Character Portrait: Marcus Sheffield
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It was a surprise, in a way, to hear her voice, which he largely didn't expect, judging from her previous actions. He returned her smile, hoping that his was a hint more amiable than her own as she informed him concerning their departure, and with a curious eye he watched her depart, heading back towards the bridge whilst he stood by a corridor's crossroads. "Goodnight." He said, the average tone likely not carrying far enough to hear, especially not over one's footsteps, even if he directed it towards the bridge.

Perhaps, for a night, he wouldn't feel so alone.

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Character Portrait: Jane Garcia
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Jane Garcia yawned...

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Character Portrait: Liz Royal
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The space port hustled and bustled. Just another normal day of trade and maintenance for those who worked at the Space port. The denizens of the space port, those who were waiting to travel and those who were going off on assignments all quickly made their way through the seemingly endless sea of souls that were all trying to get to where they needed to go. In short, a job at the spaceport in Wing City was probably one of the worst jobs one could have.

Regardless of the denizens that bustled by they didn't seem to notice a large white vortex open from under a large space craft. Then there was a blinding flash of white light and a girl appeared dressed in what looked like Royal garb laying flat underneath the Ship, which was just beginning it's countdown to launch.

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Character Portrait: Matthew Winters
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Fortunately for this well dressed young girl, an engineer was just finishing up a few late maintenance scans. Scurrying out from under this massive ship his gaze caught something, "A dress?" he wondered out loud. It is only good manners to at least try and find the owner of such things, and so he jogged over to the thing only to realize the girl within the dress. Of course no one in their right mind would simply leave a young girl under a ship just before launch, so this engineer played the good samaritan and scooped the poor girl over his shoulder and clambered out of the launch area, "Should I report this to my boss?" once again wondering out loud.

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Character Portrait: Liz Royal
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The girl in the Royal garb hung limply over the Engineer's shoulder. Out cold, barely even breathing for that matter. That's when the engineer, if he wasn't wearing a jumpsuit, which given he was an engineer was probably wearing one, would begin to feel a warm spot on his shoulder where the girl"s stomach lay.

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Character Portrait: Matthew Winters
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Another comparatively fortunate turn of events would dictate that he did indeed feel the warm spot, for it was close to the end of his shift, and he had been wearing his jumpsuit with the top half tied around his waist. Slowing to a stop the engineer lays the girl on the ground gently, it could be just oil or grease he was feeling. Then again he just found her unconscious under a large spacecraft, any clue as to why she was there would be greatly appreciated by the lone engineer.

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Character Portrait: Liz Royal
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As the Engineer lay the girl on the ground he would notice as she came into full view, the beautiful white royal garb was slowly turning crimson, expanding outwards from her stomach. When he laid her on the ground she stirred slightly before she opened her eyes slowly. Her Emerald eyes traced the area for a moment before she took a sharp inhale and looked at the Engineer with wide horror filled eyes. She started to breathe heavily before she gasped again and then screamed at the top of her lungs "Get it out! Get it out!!!" and started clawing at her stomach

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Character Portrait: Matthew Winters
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As she opened her eyes, the engineer was almost taken aback. The emerald of the girl's eyes were striking. Then she began to scream and claw at her stomach, "Stop, you need to lay still." he said with a firm yet soft voice, even if she listened to him he still would immediately restrain her arms with his own, doing his best (which is very good I might add) to avoid her apparent wound, "Call the EMT!" he shouted to the shocked onlookers. Several got on their phones right away while most continued to watch in their twisted, mesmerized way.

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Character Portrait: Liz Royal
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"O-Ok" the girl said as her arms were restrained by the Engineer the girl tried to lay still as best she could. Her body began to shake as she lay there obviously in agonizing pain, yet she no longer screamed, no longer clawed at her stomach, though the pain was still very very evident in her gem like emerald eyes. She lay there shaking and looking up into the Engineer's eyes, her mind trying to grasp the situation but she couldn't think about anything other than the burning pain in her stomach. Suddenly there was a loud whirring sound like that of a drill, and her eyes went wide again before she threw up a large ammount of blood, unfortunately it was right in the Engineer's face.

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Character Portrait: Matthew Winters
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Attempting to turn his face away but unable to avoid his new war paint. The engineer let's go of the girl's arms, seeing that it is no longer necessary to restrain her. Once again, fortunately, he has his first aid card. Though he doesn't qualify for the current situation, he has already refused to not help this girl under any circumstance. Using his wire cutters the engineer makes a hole in the girl's dress where the wound should be, judging by the spread of blood. One word, bad, is all that crosses his mind when he sees the injury. If the EMT didn't get here soon he would have to try to clean and close the wound himself.

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Character Portrait: Liz Royal
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The girl clenched her teeth and tried to lay as still as she could. as soon as the Engineer cut the hole in her garb, he would immediately find the source of her problem. A mechanical looking worm was slowly drilling into her and it was about 2 3rds inside. it's drill like tail could be seen sort of thrashing about as the machine slowly bore it's way inside of her. "Wh-What is it?" the girl asked in a surprisingly calm but obviously pain filled voice. For someone who was bcurrently being drilled she was surprisingly calm about it.