Futuristic 𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟Λ𝗡𝗗𝗦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

[Diesel2000]

[open comms transmission]

"Nice fucking job, Cap. This was definitely the scenic route."

"You seriously gonna blame me? Your flying makes a CL4P-TP look aerodynamic."

"And who told me to do the asteroid belt detour?!”

"I forgot your idea of navigation was eeny, meeny, miny, moe instead of actual piloting."

"If I didn’t have to listen to your bitching…”

"If you started listening for once!"

[end of transmission]
​

 

[Nomad13]

At a distance from the town, a figure could be seen cresting the hill and walking towards the gates. From afar, it might be mistaken for a robot, given the sounds of hydraulics and servos. It was also carrying what appeared to be a giant box on its back and dragging some sort of sled covered by a large tarp. It walked at a sedate pace towards the gates before suddenly stopping and turning back towards where it had just walked past, gazing into the distance. The robot then slumped forward in a human-like manner, as if it were giving a loud sigh.

Before long, the reason for the robot’s apparent annoyance became clear as the roar of engines grew louder, accompanied by the obnoxious sounds of screaming. The source of the sound was seen as two bandits in a buggy were seen jumping over the hill and speeding towards the robot.

The guards were too far from their defensive guns to be of any help and doubted they could reach the robot before the bandits did. However, the slumped robot walked towards the fast-approaching buggy, placing the sled behind it before digistructing a shotgun. And what a shotgun it was: a 12-round Jacobs Matador. Fancy, but not very useful at that distance and too dangerous to fire when up close. After all, a car versus a human-sized robot?

As the bandits drew near, the box on the robot’s back unfolded into plates held by two thick arms from its waist, which then slammed the plates onto the road at an angle, followed by a loud thunk just seconds before the buggy reached him. The speeding buggy tried to brake as it hit the impromptu ramp but ended up flipping front over back as it lost speed so suddenly and landed on the robot’s sled.

The unfortunate person on the MG turret went splat, but the driver appeared to be alive and was getting out. The robot’s arms—waist arms?—dropped the dented plates as the robot turned around, saw what had happened to its sled, and facepalmed, again in a very human-like manner. It stomped towards the bandit, who looked at the robot and gave a shy wave, only to be shot twelve times... Excessive much? After expending its ammo, the robot took what was left of its sled, now less than half its previous size, and continued on to the marketplace. It walked with a slump as a digistruct unit created a new set of plates behind it.

As the robot neared the town gates, it became obvious that it was not actually a robot. Clad in a Crimson Lance helm and chest piece, the robot was simply a person using an industrial exoskeleton, which explained the loud noises due to the lack of sound dampening. "Pardon me, is there anywhere in there to sell some guns and get some supplies?" the man asked the guards at the gate in what's known in Pandora as a Hodunk Accent. Was he one of them? The gate guards looked at each other before shrugging. One of them pulled out a radio while the other flipped a switch, opening the gates.

With another slump and a loud relieved sigh, the man started walking in. "Thank ya kindly," he said loudly to the guards as he made his way towards the marketplace.

 

[Diesel2000]

Draxxer

With a hiss, the air-tight evac door peeled back in front of Draxxer. It slid open to the side and hot breeze smacked him in the face. Fuck, he could already feel his ass sweating. Shielding his eyes from the blinding light, the soldier surveyed the desert. Just dirt and rocks in his sight. And a fucking supernova blast sprayed on the ground around them. The corners of his lips quirked up.

“You’re mad ‘cause I make crashing look good.” Draxx slapped the hologram tablet on his arm to activate his helmet. It rapidly deployed, swallowing his head from back to front and sealing around his neck with a slurping sound. The world displayed through the war-tested HUD was tinted the familiar, faint emerald-green.

He stepped forward, ignoring the ladder, and felt himself drop from height. His hulking figure hammered into the ground with a thud—his knee actuators sighing, to cushion the fall as his footplates dug a few inches into the scattered sand. Draxxer straightened up, his armor like second skin by now.

“Looks boring.” His voice, transferred through comms, sounded artificial in his ears. His gear was getting old. He was about to get a new model next week but the situation changed and they had to leave. Cause Daddy got into trouble. And now they were here, on the goddamn hell-of-a-planet in the bumfuck nowhere.

 

[Vox Angelis]

Sparky​

Finally done at last !

The small silhouette wiped a layer of sweat from her forehead. It took longer than what she would’ve admitted, but Evalynn was now finished with the little side-project. She stretched her arms up and her back until she could feel a satisfying pop in her spine. By the great elemental, the heat in these arid lands could rival the fiery regions of Primordis or the depths of any of the mines she had worked during her teenage years. This run-down workshop sure did not provide not much shelter aside from the pandorian sun rays.

Evalynn had arrived on Pandora not too long ago, maybe just a few rotations? With not much credits to her name, she had to take some work from a few people here and there while she worked on gathering intel on this rumored Vault. There was this guy, going by the nickname of Nine Fingers, that apparently knew a thing or two about it, but the guy was only willing to divulge what he knew only for a favor, given the girl had no credits.

The primordian young woman walked up to the meeting place where she had met this Nine Fingers before. An equally worn-down bar by the roadside, run by a smelly dude who kept nagging about “paying for drinks”. The idea of spending currency to quench one’s thirst was quite outlandish, in Evalynn’s mind. She had to begrudgingly give up a trinket she picked up on during her travels for a bottle of water. Anyways, she could recognize the guy’s mug sitting at a table. Couldn’t miss him, hair completely shaved with plenty of scars and a white mask worn on the right side of his head.

“Ayo, Nine ! I’ve finished modifying that pistol you gave me.” She placed the crude-looking revolver on the table and slid it towards the man. The thing was barely functional in the first place, but Evalynn tinkered with it to fix the trigger and the hammer, and threw in a small modification that would allow the revolver to ‘shoot’ a small plume of fire by sparking a tiny fire crystal she had installed in the barrel.

“Shiny !” the badlands rider exclaimed as he swiftly grabbed the pistol on the table.

“Cool cool, now about that Vault?”

“Ain’t heard no such thing here, girlie !”

“Wha-? But you told me you knew where it is if I fixed your gun !”

“You callin’ me a liar?” the man pointed his gun at Evalynn “Let’s test this puppy out. Welcome to Pandora, bitch !” The faint click of the trigger could be heard just before a small bang resonated in the bar. The gun in Nine Fingers’ hand detonated in a small fiery explosion, blowing up his hand in a show of flames, blood, gore and scream.

“Oops, I’m sorry ! Guess they’ll call you Four Fingers now !” Evalynn jeered as she kicked the table onto her offender and made a run for it.

Unfortunately for the outworlder, the guy had a few friends inside the bar, getting up and blocking her ways out. Shit, now she was in a real mess. These guys looked deadly, dangerous and wild and were pulling their… buzzsaws and pipes?

Just what kind of savages these people were?

 

[Nellancholy]

On the other end of the bar sat a figure that stuck out like an ingrown toenail, her worn cowboy hat and leather duster contrasting the bodysuit trimmed with pink and blue neon, an icon of a cutesy winking cat sitting below her collar. Despite the absurdity of her getup, the aridity and heat of the sun-blasted planet's surface barely bothered her, a testament to the advanced technology that went into her outfit. An untouched drink, more gasoline than anything else, sat in a dusty glass that hadn't been washed since Atlas began their mining operations on Pandora.

The drink, of course, was bought with paper that no civilized person would use, but that her contractor had given to her by the fistful in order to assist her in surviving and completing her mission on Pandora, as if it was worth less to them than newsprint in this day and age. And really, it probably was.

A literally explosive altercation broke out close to the entrance, as a younger, somewhat scruffy woman made the fool decision of playing a prank on someone who had no intention of giving her the time of day to begin with. What would have happened if "Nine Fingers" decided to brain her with a hammer or something instead? Then her "smart" move wouldn't have done a damn thing.

Still...their aims seemed to align, somewhat. Her target was headed to the Vault, and would be broadcasting many of his steps along the way. The scruffy one was looking for the Vault, and she happened to be at least somewhat capable of reason.

Now, Artemisia always hit her mark eventually, but there was no use wasting a useful lead when it dangled right in one's face.

Excellent. Time to work her charm on the locals.

Glancing over, she sized up the situation in a blink. At least three guys. Probably more. All of them with crude weapons in their hands (or what was left of them), but that didn't mean they weren't hiding pieces somewhere under their clothes. But the one in the middle had a certain something on his waist...

With a spin, Artemisia flung her drink straight at him. The glass shattered an inch from his face, splashing its volatile contents all over.

Of course. A shield. Probably looted from some poor unfortunate who pushed their luck a little too far.

"Stay outta this, skag breath!" The shielded bandit bellowed. "Or my fist won't be stayin' outta your face!"

"Oh...that's unfortunate." Artemisia let her hat fall off with a tilt of her head, giving a wink. A small sparkle of pixels shot out the side of her eyelids with that little gesture, a visual flourish presumably furnished by some aspect of her equipment. "I was about to painlessly take her off your hands, but calling me names like that means it's gonna hurt now."

"PAIN? I'll show ya pain!" One of the big guy's compatriots, promptly provoked, rushed straight at Artemisia, axe raised. With a roll to the side, she lifted the chair she was just sitting on, swinging it upwards with one hand. It connected with the bandit's jaw with a sharp CRASH, sending him sprawling to the floor.

With a swipe of her finger across the glowing pad on her left shoulder, a submachine gun with a familiar white, orange, and blue color scheme materialised in her hands. Shouldering it smoothly, she squeezed off a burst at the soon-to-be-unshielded bandit. The protective barrier shattered in a burst of electricity and flame, charring him and leaving his friends singed but standing.

Taking advantage of the bright flash, Artemisia flipped over the bar and crouched down, taking cover and potentially making herself harder to track in the moment. Evalynn or any other prospective thrill seeker could follow up and take out their assailants...

Vox Angelis

 

[Namazu]

Salvatore

“Goooooood morning, Pandora!” The face of a grinning, handsome man in dark aviator sunglasses with perfectly-styled-but-intentionally-messy hair filled the screen, all white teeth and clear skin. His face got a little further away, drawing back to take in more of the man and the land behind him. A sprawling, tacky-looking market stretched out behind him over the dry desert ground.

“And good whatever-damn-time-of-day it is back home in beautiful Budecari! Your favorite best-looking hearthrob and hero, Salvatore Santori himself, reporting from the less-than-beautiful planet of Pandora. Thank you for joining me on this excellent adventure. Let me tell you, we got all kinds of excitement in store. Keep joining in to Station 7 for your twice-weekly broadcasts, but don’t forget to check out my content on the MeshNet for even more! Extra pics, candid shots, cut content, interviews - you name it, we got it. But for now - have a quick peek at our first stop on Pandora, yeah?”

Salvatore stepped to the side, gesturing behind himself like he was showing off something fantastic and amazing - and not some rickety bunch of stalls selling junk. A light breeze blew some dust between a few stalls while people milled around, poking through the junk piles and haggling with each other.

“This right here, folks back home, is a Pandoran market. The real damn thing! Imagine that - on Pandora, to buy things, you don’t use a Merch-Kiosk. There’s no Catalog. There’s no HoloTry. Not even any reviews on the MeshNet to read. All of the goods for sale are actually laid out on tables for you to look at - and, if the merchant is kind enough - pick up and touch. Now, obviously this is nowhere near as complete and varied as a Budecari shopping experience. But remember - these backwards folks, they don’t know any different, right? So we’re not going to rub that into their faces.”

The camera zoomed in closer to Salvatore’s face as he took off his sunglasses and winked, still all smiles and charm.

“Not much, anyway.” The camera pulled back again and Salvatore nestled his sunglasses in his hair, turning to face the camera again, making sure it got a good shot of his partially-unbuttoned shirt and toned chest beneath it.

“We’ll go exploring the market - but first, a word from our sponsors!” Salvatore held his grin for a few seconds before a light on his VideoDrone blinked, then he sighed. With one hand, he waved the multitude of VideoDrones hovering around him closer.

“The lighting here is shit, and this dust is going to get into every one of my devices. Did you get shots that are good enough? Do we need more angles? With or without the sunglasses?” Salvatore snapped his finger at his nearby photographer, whose name he couldn’t remember.

“Come on. Speak. Angles? Did I have any horrid looking locals behind me? I want to reshoot those scenes if I do.”

 

[Diesel2000]

raze

The blistering heat assaulted his armor but inside of it Raze was wrapped in what felt like a cool layer of liquid memory foam. He was still getting used to his new gear but he didn’t complain. Everything was upgraded to crazy levels of comfort and capability. Too bad they didn’t get Draxxer’s armor in time for the trip and the guy was still stuck in that old piece of junk. Raze could almost feel the warmth radiating around himself as well, sensing his haptic brother was overheating.

“I think your cooling system is getting wonky again.” Raze glanced at the black-red figure marching next to him.

“No shit,” Draxxer grumbled, slowing down to a stop. He unfolded his helmet and run a metal-clad hand through his wet, black hair—Raze could tell he already hated this rock. The guy squinted against the glare of the alien sun and motioned his head at the horizon. Raze followed his gaze to the distant structures.

“Think they’ve got room service?" Drax asked.

"Sure,” Raze chuckled. “If you like your room with a side of tetanus and your service with a rusty dagger."

They headed towards the building marked with a tire, a catch-a-ride station. As soon as he noticed a human, Raze opened his own helmet that swiftly folded back and to the sides of his collar. He was about to yell when Drax asked.

“You gonna dazzle her with your wit?"

"Better than letting your sparkling personality do the talking,” Raze said with a smirk and greeted the stranger. “Hey there! I bet you’ve seen us hurling into the atmosphere a while back.”

“Like a dumpster fire in a hurricane!” Draxxer grinned.

Raze ignored him, focused on the woman. “Think you could give us a hand? We busted the cargo door and can’t get our hoverbikes out.”


RikuXIII

 

[Plutoni]

holiday

​

Weak light shone through the grill of the ventilation fan as it spun lazily in the far wall. The noise from outside was muffled, dust motes floating in the hot, dim air of the shack, and the scrapper stared at Holiday like they had just asked to purchase a human skin coat.

"Come on. Show 'em."

The thin amber ring of Holiday’s eye-lens stared unblinkingly back. In silence, the android placed a battered copper token onto the bench. Like a splash of cold water, the sight of payment before him broke the man from his stupor - he glanced to the two figures sat watching on crates in the back as he ducked beneath the makeshift counter to haul one of the great plastic pallets up and onto the cluttered steeltop, knocking the token back towards Holiday with a clatter who quickly bent to catch it as it fell. Nestled within deposits of sand and shredded cellophane lay a mess of salvaged effects, rings from unknown fingers, dead devices, cooking utensils, and the odd figurine amongst unidentifiable hunks of metalwork, and Holiday folded their arms across their chest as they leaned in to look.

"Well, aren't these special?" the android cooed without a touch of sincerity, reaching long golden fingers to poke through the top layer. "What a variety."

The man who had spoken earlier had gotten up from his crate, ashing his cigarette as he came to lean in over the case, blocking the other scrapper with his shoulder.
"S'dry. Shit lasts forever out there," he said, eyeing Holiday. "And a lotta shit gets left behind. Idiots looking for vaults. What do you want, droid?"

Holiday leaned back, turning an oddly tentacled idol about in their hand before tossing it back down to join the rest once more, moving on to inspect the piles upon the shelves. They picked up a rusted locket nestled within an old helmet.
"Good question. To be a real boy?"

The locket was returned to the helmet. They'd been curious, if not hopeful; there was nothing interesting here. "Heard you're the best in town. You better be the ones to get my belongings if I die, yes?"

They had already finished looking, but paused as they turned to leave. Holiday pointed towards the slim pack of cigarettes open on the table.
"I'll take those, though."

-

The android emerged from the rusted alley door into the bright heat of Pandora's day, pale hood suddenly aglow with fierce sunlight, and made their way towards where a boy sat chewing something in the shade of an overhang. Spotting them approach, he hopped to his feet.

"The best, right?"

Holiday slid three cigarettes from the pack and handed them to the kid, gaze running across the stalls stretching out into the main street before turning back to look down at their guide.
"The best. Did a good job, kid. Now go smoke them all at once."

They popped their umbrella back open and rested it against their shoulder as the two parted ways, diffused light casting strange white sheens on the metal faceplate below, and rejoined the steady stream of people down through the marketplace. Holiday soon found themselves stood in front of an armourer, if you could call it that, squatting on one of the outer fringes - the half-covered displays stunk of theft and the shopkeep's liquor, a subtle scrubbed absence of serial numbers upon gun after gun and jealously padlocked cases of ammunition propping up a wiry, hard-eyed man that watched the android with the same even-keeled belligerence turned on every other passerby on the street.

"Lovely weather-"

The man spat. "Watch yourself, crank."

"Of course, sir," Holiday's voice smiled, picking up a revolver and holding it up into the light, idly thumbing the safety a few times before moving onto the next. But their peaceful browse was short lived. The shopkeeper had started yelling - Holiday looked up just in time to see a bottle fly out towards someone in the street, watching as the man hopped down from his seat, making shooing motions with the fire of drunken aggression and a guilty conscience as he stalked towards a handful of people surrounded by video drones. Holiday looked down at the handgun they'd just settled on and sighed.

"You! Get those fucking cameras off the street! OFF!"

 

[orpheus.]

ozkar​

The sun beamed down upon the bleak landscape with the ferocity of a thresher maw having a poor Rat as it's supper.

"You sure we have to wait?"

Kikyo kicked at a pile of rocks as the wind ripped at their faces. Ozkar stood up from his crouched position, dropping the stick with which he was drawing lines and symbols. They came to him less times than the voices, but they were burned into his head all the same. Three pieces to something he couldn't completely see. Oz's ponytail blew in the rapid breeze, the only thing about him that seemed to have any motion.

"I haven't steered us wrong yet, 'Kyo. We're almost there" he sighed, adjusting his goggles on his face. True, he had led them to this point, but who was to say that he was doing it right--being a Siren? Formidable things of legend, one knew not to cross their path. But, at what cost? Sure, Ozkar could now handle the many voices in his head that all guided him to the next phase of opening a Vault. It was all too much once upon a time.

"Let's get out of here," Ozkar told Kikyo, cocking back his Unkempt Harold. Just as he did, Kikyo stepped on a bit of dirt that sounded wrong--too hollow, with the buzz of something dangerous. Oz and Kikyo looked at each other with the same unsaid order for the other person: MOVE!

Both dove out of the way as a Varkid Hive was unearthed, with about a dozen and a half of the pests rearing their ugly heads. Ozkar stood forward, ready to use his power to destroy the bugs and be done with it.

"DON'T." the voices said in unison. Kikyo was already firing her sniper rifle at the swarm. "What are you waiting for, a golden invitation from Hyperion?" she yelled, but the sentiment was drowned out by the swirling words of the Voices.

"WAIT FOR THEM." they said, loud and harmonic then fading into the separated cacophony in the background of his mind. Ozkar shook his head and got back in the game, not happy about the new evolution of the voices. He shot his pistol at the swarm, catching a couple of Varkids in his crosshairs. The pit crumbled a bit more, revealing more of them to replace the ones that did fall.

"For fucks sake, where's the bug spray when you need it?" Oz quipped, hoping that whoever he was supposed to wait for would show their ass up already.

 

[Nomad13]

BORGAIER​

A man in a dirty white jumpsuit could be seen hunched over a workbench near the gun shop where he had just sold most of his looted weapons and shields. By his side was a folded, patchy yellow industrial exoframe in standby configuration. He gave a satisfied huff as he tightened the last bolt to spec on his new gun. It had the receiver and stock of a DAHL semi-auto sniper rifle, but it was reinforced. The barrel was thick, most likely a Jacobs make. And the scope was an oddity. It looked like a Jacobs scope encased by a box with cable ports on it. The man then grabbed the barrel and pushed it into the receiver, creating a smooth glass skating sound as the recoil action cycled a dummy round from the magazine.

"Smooth as butta," the man quipped with satisfaction as his newly assembled marksman rifle worked fine. He then looked up as he heard footsteps, only to see an android walking to the curmudgeonly pawn shop owner moonlighting as an armorer. As if. The man didn't even bother to clean the guns sold to him before putting them on display. "If he ain't the only guy with the parts I need..." the man muttered maliciously as he glared at the "armorer," only to blink as the man ran out screaming something about a commotion just down the road.

Looking at the android holding a pistol in hand, he saw an opportunity to screw over the "armorer" of a sale. With a smile, he stood up while digistructing his sniper rifle and took out a Vladof machine pistol, a Jacobs revolver, and a Hyperion semi-auto. Placing them on the workbench, he called to the droid.

"Say friend, how 'bout a better deal?"

 

[Vox Angelis]

Sparky​

The situation an even more unexpected and crazier turn. Some lady wearing a weird-looking, clearly not of this world, bodysuit combined with a duster and a cowboy hat joined the fray and began shooting them up with shocking projectiles.

Wait, was that a freaking Maliwan Vexation SMG? That's... awesome ! Yet it spelled bad news at the same time.

Evalynn's instincts told her to run the hell out of this place and run away from town. What with the bandits on her tail and a potential Maliwan hunter after her (which would explain why the woman had jumped on those bandits at the signs of a fight, the mercenary was probably contracted to take her alive), it was time to make herself scarce. This scuffle was already too much for her. Her heart was beating so fast, so heavy.

She should be dead by now. If the weapon she was working on had not been this poor in quality, she probably would have gotten this bullet to the head, end of the line. The very thought that she figuratively dodged a bullet this time was very shocking, and eyes-opening.

The primordian girl took out from a sash what looked like a small crystal crudely wrapped in wires with a device attached to it. Oh yeah, it was time to leave and make sure no one followed her. She slapped the device in her hands and threw it towards the bandits with a faint beeping noise.

As soon as the device hit the ground next to the already-singed bandits, the device sparked a chain reaction with the crystal it was attached to. A small flame was all that it took to ignite the unstable fire crystal, causing it to burst in bright flames. It was not like the explosion of a grenade. There was no shockwave, only the flume of fire from the crystal that engulfed the bandits standing too near of it.

It pained her to leave the crystal there though. While the device had likely melted off from the intensity of the flames, the elemental crystal was sure to remain at the exact same place she threw it. Discharged, but still useful if one knew how to work these.

Evalynn took the opportunity of this bright display of flames to make a run for the exit. She was no damn fighter, no use staying here to find out if there were more of these guys waiting. With how well equipped the outworlder was, she didn't worry for her. Especially if she turned out to be a Maliwan hunter after her.

Nellancholy

 

[NanLia]

MO & VALE​

Mo lay beneath the precious little shade the dead bike provided. The dirt beneath her back radiated heat through her dust-covered clothes. She listened to Vale’s footsteps as he paced on the other side of the bike, in the middle of what she had presumed to be a road. “No point in wasting energy,” she murmured, barely audible. “It’s a long walk back to the nearest town and we’re not doing it in this heat.”

The dual suns of Pandora had proven a problem for the pair; Mo’s fair skin had already scorched and blistered on their first full day here; which had been two days ago and despite using every curative the locals tossed at her, her skin still ached but the blistered had been healed. Vale hadn’t been much better: heat stroke, the locals had called it. This was a learning curve neither of the duo had expected to face.

“He said it was in good shape.” Vale continued his semi-circular trajectory, heedless of her warning. “We’re going to go back there and we’re-”

“We’re not going to do shit.” Mo interrupted, sitting up with a groan and squinting over the seat of the bike at Vale. “You wanted to save cash, and this is what it got you. You didn’t listen to me, so we are. I’m not about to let you walk your ass back in there and roll out the High and Mighty speech on a gang member and get us both blasted before we even start for the Vault.”

Vale paused, turning to face the small fighter, crossing his arms over his chest. He was annoyed but he also knew she was right. After a few seconds of silence between them, he sighed. “The Vault. Nothing else matters.”

Satisfied they were finally on the same page, Mo started to lower herself back into the shade, pulling the muslin hood back over her face. “Besides,” She went on, “It’s probably overheated, we’ll give it to sundown and then-”

Gunfire in the distance cut her off, she paused, straining to listen for any more as the shots echoed in the distance. She had begun to believe she’d heard it, but then more shots were heard, and distant shouts. Vale was already moving, grabbing his rifle from the sidecar of the bike. “We should go look.”

Mo sat up, tilting her head. “No, we shouldn’t. We should get out of here now.” She stood, dusting off her pants but as she looked up Vale was already jogging out into the wasteland toward the sound of fighting.

“Fuck!” Mo raced after him, toward the conflict. Her shorter legs forced her to run as hard as she could to catch up with him but by the time she had, he was already raising his rifle to aim and firing at the bugs threatening the strangers.

orpheus.

 

[Nellancholy]

The little gearhead seemed to have yet another trick up her sleeve, using some manner of...crystal to set off a wave of fire not unlike that of a nova shield. Artemisia didn't get a good look at the thing before it was done going off, considering how she was hidden behind a thin wall of surprisingly well-made wood. Though in the few seconds before it lost anything resembling structural integrity, she noticed all those exposed wires and the crude form factor. Thing didn't even have a touchscreen. Now, other people's lives were their business (until the payments cleared), but she'd never trust her life to something so clunky. Let nerds like that burn their eyebrows off with their experimentation, and then she'd buy the best of what came of that off the rack.

"M-my SKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!"

Oops, looked like a couple of them were still standing in spite of the grievous agony they were in.

"Alright boys..." She beamed, a smiley face appearing in neon blue over her face for a moment as she touched her shoulder again, the submachine gun in her hand vanishing to be replaced by a chunky, glossy shotgun. "...show's over."
The next ten seconds or so were filled with the CHUNK-CHUNK-CHUNK of an automatic shotgun unloading and the screams of several people having the worst (and thankfully final) day of their lives.

---

Now, that girl couldn't have gotten too far, would she?

Wherever she went immediately after, she would soon find herself swooped down on by a flying drone that resembled the surveyors that Hyperion liked to use to support their robotic forces on the ground.

"Hello there, sweetie." A voice filtered through a speaker issued forth. "Where do you think you're going, leaving the party like that? Leaving behind your little crystal like you're Cinderella."

The drone projected a big >W< in front of its nose as it hovered closer. "I wonder, what happens if I shake that crystal a little, right here in your face? Or if I give it a little electric shock..." The small nub under its nose extended, from which surveyors would fire their shock bolts.

The drone held that position for a moment, before the weapon muzzle opened even further, unceremoniously dropping the crystal into Evalynn's hand, or failing that, directly onto the sand. Now that was a rather non-standard upgrade. "Just kidding. You can have your toy back. I'd like to ask for your cooperation. If you can figure it out, we'll be sticking together. If not, we go our separate ways and you don't have to look up at the sky every few seconds."

The drone's "face" shifted, switching to a holographic projection of Salvatore's earlier broadcast.

“This right here, folks back home, is a Pandoran market. The real damn thing! Imagine that - on Pandora, to buy things, you don’t use a Merch-Kiosk. There’s no Catalog. There’s no HoloTry. Not even any reviews on the MeshNet to read. All of the goods for sale are actually laid out on tables for you to look at - and, if the merchant is kind enough - pick up and touch. Now, obviously this is nowhere near as complete and varied as a Budecari shopping experience. But remember - these backwards folks, they don’t know any different, right? So we’re not going to rub that into their faces.”

Well, she agreed with him on that, at least. Though hopefully soon they'd have a more...vigorous disagreement and then she could put her business here to an end.

"So." Artemisia's voice returned. "I am looking for this man. He is looking for a Vault. Can you bring me to either of those things?" If Evalynn signalled her agreement, the drone would soon take to the air again and lead her to a watchtower on the edge of town, where Artemisia was waiting, scanning her surroundings through a scope as a matter of vigilance.

Interaction: Vox Angelis
Mention: Namazu

 

[Vox Angelis]

sparky​

Leaning against the back of a rickety motel, Evalynn took a moment to catch her breath and wipe the sweat dripping on her forehead. Holy heck, that was quite an intense moment she lived back there. Between the shooting and the deadly pyrotechnics and nearly being shot in the face, the young primordian woman found herself suddenly thinking of home. Heh, was it that much different than slaving away in the mines and running away from hordes of elementally-charged beasts? No, it was pretty much the same in terms of adrenaline, but the situation was quite different somehow.

She breathed a sigh out of relief. It had been a few minutes already and no one seemed to have been looking for her.

Oh, how wrong she was.

"Hello there, sweetie." A voice filtered through a speaker issued forth. "Where do you think you're going, leaving the party like that? Leaving behind your little crystal like you're Cinderella."

“EEK!” Evalynn jump scared, quickly turning on her heels, unholstering and pointing at the robot a shoddy-looking Aegis-class pistol manufactured by Maliwan, its orange energy lines suggesting the fiery properties of the weapon.

Despite the distress of having been found out by this drone, the threat of mishandling the crystal she had left behind seemed to be the least of her concern. Effectively, she knew the unstable crystal’s energy was depleted, nothing much could be done to it right now, even less by shocking it. No, she was more curious about how that robot found her and who was controlling it.

Well, at the very least it didn’t mean her harm, for as far as she could tell. It even gave her the discharge fire crystal back. She somehow felt she could trust the woman on the other side of the speaker. She had a feeling who it might be, but curiosity took a hold of her and she wanted to see where this was all going. Pandora had been a mixed bag of surprise so far, far more than what she expected when she left Primordis. With talk of people looking for the Vault, she saw no harm in seeking out others who were actively looking out for it.

Evalynn nodded positively to the drone. “Hmm… can’t say I know the guy, or know where the Vault is, but I know the place he’s at. A couple hours from here, at the traders’ post.” She replied earnestly, holstering the pistol back on her utility belt and pocketing the crystal into a pouch.

She followed the robot back to its owner, at the watchtower on the edge of town. As soon as she saw her, the outworlder with all the fancy apparel, she raised her arm in greetings.
“Hoy ! Nice toys you have there ! I guess you got transport to reach the trading post?”

Nellancholy

 

[RikuXIII]

Ella​

"Just hold on a sec, alright!" Ella called over her shoulder as she dropped the new engine into the scavenged Outrunner. There was still some Rat blood on the seat, but that could get cleaned up after the ride was running again. She popped under the Outrunner for a a few seconds to get some bolts in place to secure the engine in its housing. With this stopping place reach, she pulled herself out from under the vehicle and treated the two strangers to a smile.
"Well now, always good to see fresh faces." Ella greeted.
Despite the friendly tone and face, the keen eyed would notice she kept a heavy tool in hand and the handle of a Jakobs revolver poking out of her tool belt. It was a practiced pose and look, advertising that things were nice and friendly now, but if they got unfriendly, she could handle that to.
"I'll see what I can do, though depending on your doors and how fragged they are, you might be better just renting some new rides."
Ella grabbed an extra tool box, hefting a monstrous wrench to her shoulder.
"Let's go see the damage." She said, gesturing for Raze and Daxxer to show her.

Diesel2000

 

[Miaow]

hiro

"NIKO?! NIKO!" Hiro yelled as he scrambled for his keys. Running late was much easier before he had a kid. He could just sprint out of the front door with no regard for whoever else was in the house. He didn't have to find them, tell them where he was going, tell them when he'd be back, make sure they'd eaten something normal for breakfast and not an ice cream sundae comprised of everything he had in the cupboards.
"I'm running late! I have to go!" He called out, fumbling to unlock his front door, "I'll be back tonight, just-- just eat like a normal person and don't break anything!"
The fact he was met with only silence didn't concern him too much... Hell, he didn't have a Niko to look after 3 days ago. She was probably sleeping in, that's what teenagers did right? It was what he did when he was a teenager. It's what he still did now. Why else would he be late for work?

He clambered into the front seat of his car, tossing his camera bag onto the passenger seat before peeling out of the parking garage. The screen on the console flickered on, taking it's sweet time on the loading screen, before finally bringing up the navigation system. He typed in his location, glancing between the little circle spinning as it buffered and the road. This thing was self driving, but there was no way he was trusting it not to swerve into oncoming traffic at the drop of a hat.
"Come onnnn..." He murmured, tapping at the screen it, "For fuck sake..."
"I could totally fix that if you'd let me," Niko popped up from behind him, leaning her arms against the back of the passenger seat.
"JESUS-- FUCK!" Hiro yelled, slamming his foot on the break.
"What the f--" He began, using all his self control to not swear at her, "How long have you been back there?!"
"Uhhhh... probably like, half an hour," Niko responded, resting her chin on the headrest of the chair in front of her.
"Wh-- Why?! What--" Hiro murmured.
"You were gonna leave me all day! And I already ate all your good food."
A multitude of responses ran through Hiro's brain... When's your mother sending me child support? Hell, when's your mother coming to get you? You're one cosmic brownie away from the streets. Instead, he took a deep breath and got his car back on track. He had a day more of this, tops, before he went off on his adventure and Niko went back to whatever cave she came from. She'd just have to hope that cave had snacks in it.
"I'm meeting my boss today. You can't be here. I need this job," He warned her, focusing on the road.
"Oh yeah, your get rich quick scheme..." Niko murmured, sitting back in her seat.
"No, a job--"
"A job where you follow a rich asshole, hoping some of his richness or assholeness rubs off on you."
"What-- Eww."
"And you leave me to the mercy of the cops, just like my mom did, because everybody leaves."
Hiro had heard this speech multiple times in the last few days. Each time he tried to figure out who she belonged to or who he could pawn her off onto.
"Fine, fine, you come with me to meet him, but you're not going to the vault. It's dangerous, it'd be irresponsible of me to bring you. Who'll look after your cat robot thingy, anyway? You can't abandon that."
"What, Mister Biscuit? He's right here," She responded, lifting a blanket from his back seat. From beneath shot out a sphere of metal, encapsuling an LED screen with a little cat face on it. A synthetic purring sound erupted from his speakers as it hovered over his scratched up, leather seats.
"Oh for fuck sake..."

✦

"Look, kid, this job is really important to me. Please, please don't blow it for me," Hiro murmured as they weaved through stalls selling a huge variety of things. He often came here for "fresh" produce when he could be bothered to cook, but he didn't spend much time looking at the scrap and spare parts. He wouldn't know what half of them did, anyway.
"Yeah, yeah..." Niko responded, her catbot nestled in her arms as she walked, "Children shall be seen and not heard!"
"You know that's not what I meant... but in this instance... yes, that might not be a bad idea."
As the two rounded a set of stalls, they were met with a man who was far better dressed than the rest of the crowd. He was surrounded by camera drones, whizzing around his head to get into position, filming wide shots of the market, close ups of the man's perfectly engineered face... rustic and carefree, but not too carefree that he looked messy.
"That's him," Hiro told her with a toothy grin. He had to look enthusiastic, but not so eager that he seemed like a crazed fan. Friendly, approachable, but serious and professional when it came to his work.
"You're joking, right?" Niko murmured, raising an eyebrow, "That's Salvatore Santori. He's like, rich asshole number one."
"Fix your face... and watch your damn language," He responded with a nudge of his elbow into her shoulder. Niko had a face with subtitles, the thoughts that she didn't choose to share with the group often betrayed by her expressions. Hiro wasn't gonna let that ruin his chances of becoming a trillionaire.

✦

Niko leaned against the table of an empty stall, listening to the creaking of her father's knees as he crouched to get the best angles. She'd asked him why he insisted on using that antique of a camera when they had all these new, fancy photobots he could instruct, but that 'defeated the purpose of his work' and he 'wasn't gonna let a damn robot steal his job.' It all sounded a little backward to her. Robots had feelings too! Well, some of them did. Mister Biscuit did, but his job was to be cute and sleep, and humans weren't nearly as cute as he was. Even that one girl in her science class.

Her mind seemed to return to her mortal body as the tone in the celeb changed, his performing voice dropping back to what she had to assume was the real Sal, or at least closer to it. Her dad seemed to stumble over his words as the man questioned his work. Angles? Lighting? Gross ass locals?
"Oh, umm-- Yeah, I got some good ones," Hiro responded, straightening his joints as he flicked through his snaps, "I-- I actually thought we could get some photos with the locals?"
He seemed to pause as he considered his wording... though Niko seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say. So you'll look less like an asshole.
"It'd make the stuff we're broadcasting seem more--" He continued, though his words were quickly cut off by a bottle whizzing by his head.

He instinctively clutched his camera closer to his chest, only followed by a pang of guilt that he hadn't been clutching the kid instead.
"Get behind me," He ordered as if that had been his first thought. Though Niko surprisingly did as she was told, she still stood on the tips of her toes, trying to get a better look at the assailant. This was the most fun she'd had all week. Maybe he'd throw more stuff. Maybe she'd get to throw some stuff.

Interaction: Namazu

 

[Nellancholy]

How did Artemisia feel about this place so far? Well, admitting she hated it, even to herself, would require a sense of emotional awareness that she rarely demonstrated. Still, reasons to disdain this scenery were many. There were really only two kinds of landscape on Pandora: flat, sun-blasted plains as far as the eye can see and the bullet can fly, or rocks, crags, and caves that could collapse on you at any moment and were hardly any use as cover or concealment most of the time. Especially since things far worse than what you were hiding from could lurk around them...

This watchtower in particular was precarious like no place in the cities on developed planets: there, one could make use of buildings, stairwells, ladders, windows, and all other manner of concealment against one's quarry. In a place like Pandora, taking a shot would give away one's location unfailingly. Which was fine for the kind of people who lived here, but for Artemisia, the notion of having one's vantage point blown up in an outnumbered fight (or even simply because some idiot felt like it) was not the kind of tactical situation she liked to be in.

Despite her compunctions, she wasn't too bothered about using her drone to lead the gearhead back to the tower. It was better than giving her location away where people might hear: the drone would be hard to notice amidst the dust clouds and flocks of rakk if you weren't already looking for it, and anyone who noticed would likely try to knock it out of the sky for fun instead of following it to its destination. If they succeeded (unlikely), she'd be down an asset, but her location was unlikely to be exposed. And once she collected, she could buy ten more just like it if she wanted.

Having reached its destination, the drone folded up into a square resembling a backpack, sliding onto a harness on Artemisia's back.

"Glad to see that wasn't too much of a walk for you." De-digistructing her rifle, Artemisia gracefully dived out of the tower, landing on her feet in front of the girl in a plume of dust. "And of course I've got us a ride." Stepping over to a tarp down by the base of the tower, she carefully flipped it over, revealing a light runner with a rusted exterior. It was one of those buggies that offered barely any protection to those within, but was light and fast on the sand, and had room for one driver and one gunner to ride in...relative comfort. Had Artemisia paid for it, in those sheets of crumpled paper that were worthless anywhere else? Had she salvaged it, or...stolen it from someone else? She wouldn't tell. Really, she seemed to have little consideration of the monetary value of the thing.

"So, can you drive? Don't worry, I can." The little banter she offered was tossed out almost as an afterthought as she fell into the driver's seat. Hand on the wheel, feet on the pedals...flick the switch...

The vehicle seized, jerked, and let out a sound like a dying rakk before falling still again.

"..."

Great, she'd acquired a hunk of junk that couldn't run, lightly or otherwise. And could she fix it in a timely manner. Sure, she knew how to change a tire, or replace a battery. She'd used that as part of a ruse against a target that was a fan of hers, once. But to diagnose what was wrong with this...she might need a little help. And she was certainly going to be slow to ask.

Vox Angelis

 

[Diesel2000]

raze

“Sure thing!” Raze yelled back and waited, taking a look around. He scanned the female’s formidable frame when she handled the motor of the worn buggy. Strong and competent. He could appreciate that in a woman but his taste was not limited to such a type.

"Nice ride!" Draxxer said with a sly grin on his face as his thoughts flew uncensored. Think she’s up for a spin on mine?

Raze chuckled but didn’t respond over their neural link. He threw a charming smile her way, his hands nowhere near the sidearm built into his armor. His rifle still similarly tucked on the right side of his back. She might be packing heat but before she could pull that revolver out, he and Draxxer would be fully shielded. Pretty much untouchable for any crude tech—no worries there.

"Name’s Raze, and that’s Draxxer," Raze jerked his thumb towards his partner.

He glanced over his shoulder, nodding in the direction they’d come from. "Yeah, let’s move." He fell in step between them, the double suns glinting off his sleek, white armor.

"Not too many fresh faces around here, huh? Or have you crossed paths with any recently?" He asked, not really expecting much but it was worth a shot.



RikuXIII