Futuristic Burning Sails [OPEN]

[Breadman]

While the rest were working and he was doing the equally important job of overseeing, Zack's ears perked up when he heard loud shouting. He turned his head to where it was coming from. It was one of Valk's brats. The loud and annoying one. Drunk as a shit again and with dedication of being a nuisance. He ignored her to the best of his abilities, but his co-pilot and current underling didn't.

"Who's the drunk chick?"

"That is the boss's daughter." Specter said, almost reluctantly "Stay out of the way or get dragged on some barely coherent adventure."

"Sounds fun. Better than hanging out with your bookworm ass."

"Well Sticky, given your name, being around any woman is probably fun for you." 'Sticky's' only response was to flip him off.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

Lauren's inebriated, irreverent yelling catches the attention of Typhon, and probably even the rest of the mech bay too with how loud and obnoxious she's being. A hard scowl appears on his face, harder than anyone's seen these past few days, and there's clear anger in his step as he marches towards her. He doesn't even allow Zadra a chance to greet her back before he's standing in front of Lauren; looking down on her.

"Lauren," there's hardly any attempt to hide the revulsion in his voice. "I said no alcohol."

Drinking after a head injury is the one thing he had hoped Lauren wouldn't do as it'll impede her recovery and might actually make her injury worse. He had thought he made this clear to her after she had woken up but apparently he didn't do a good enough job. Now she might actually drink herself to death, especially if this continues. The little scanner also goes to work briefly checking her blood alcohol concentration and it's just as he figured; it's enough to affect her recovery.

 

[SniperComZero]

"Oh, hey there. Was about to send you a message."

Olivia perked up as Zadra acknowledged her presence. She was even gonna reply to her cordially, too.

"We gave it a tune-up . . ."

And there's that classic sour bitch look resting over her face. Her face seemed to drop right as Zadra made it known to her, looking for just a moment, before her shoulders dropped. "Nah, nah. I'm good." Popping open the hatch, if one could call the entire torso of a mech opening up its 'hatch', and climbing inside, Olivia got to work turning the thing on. Not bothering to close the cockpit up, she just needed to spend a couple minutes checking stuff-- namely, making sure that whoever was working on her stuff didn't catastrophically fuck up the systems that she already had in place for it. Routine shit, really. Arm calibration, camera motion, finger functionality, the basic stuff.

Even if checking its systems ended up being a little more than just a couple minutes. Enough for that behemoth of a mech to scoot its way out to wherever-- and for one of the doctors that left with it to come right on back to the mech bay. But not the other one, its pilot, or the mech that left. Curious.

Either way, satisfied enough that things had remained mostly the same, Olivia hopped out from the torso of her mech, giving the thing a couple slaps on the thigh as its torso closed back up. Though, it felt kinda weird, now that she was looking at it. Still adorned in that proud Sol blue, no matter how scratched and beat up it was now Looked like the paint had gone matte from how much scratching and wear and tear it had gone through. It would be weird still running around backing the blue after so long now. Maybe it was time for a change...?

...No-- no. She's not a pirate. This is just a... partnership of convenience. Let's go with that. Still. It'd be nice to get it touched up.

"Say, uh, you wouldn't actually mind redoing the paint on the outer armor panels, would ya'? Give'em a lacquer coat, too, just so it keeps well--"

And that's when the boss's loud, and very audibly drunk daughter (not bodyguard, as had been very clearly drilled into her head) burst into the motor pool. This'll be fun to watch.

 

[Viper Actual]

"Its not too far. There's another clearing on the other side of the trees."

Nodding, Nathalie walked besides Damien as the two of them began to make their way towards the settlement expansion. She occasionally brushed a vine or two aside but beyond that the path was free of obstruction. It also looked well-maintained, being lined with wooden posts and showing fresh tracks from other people and smaller ground-based vehicles.

For a moment Nat allowed herself to enjoy the pretty view and the smell of nature rather than that of a city or a spaceship. She had always enjoyed being outdoors- especially during wilderness survival training with the SSOID- but more often than not she found herself stuck aboard a cramped ship or zigzagging through busy city streets.

There's just something so pure about all of this. Sure beats crawling through bombed-out apartment complexes.

When Damien made his assumption and followed it up with a rather direct question Nathalie simply looked at him. She wasn't surprised nor was she offended. Why would she? She had been trained to do just that; Make threat assessments, find weak links and scout out the lay of the land whether it be literal land or a social landscape with the complexity of a maze. In fact, Nathalie was willing to bet that Damien had done the same thing. Multiple times.

She shrugged lightly, as to downplay the gravity of the question at hand. "It's a rough crew. No first pick."

Nathalie looked back at Damien. "You've got a solid line-up but don't get me wrong; It could use some work. Right now it's all hanging on your mother's vow and on the fact that we can't really do anything but go underground- which isn't really an optimal way to live out the rest of our lives.

For starters, we have Olivia Kovak. Ticking timebomb. From what I can tell she still has some sense of discipline if not a basic respect for the chain of command. But I've seen her type before. Marines, regardless if they're on foot or in a mech, tend to get really destructive when left to their own devices. Drinking. Drugs. Gambling. That sort of stuff. If it spreads too far and without any control, well, then you're gonna have some brawls coming your way. More than usual that is.

Then we have the Kanad bounty hunter slash mercenary, Kalashi. Has a rep for being effective but from what I've heard she doesn't work in teams. Seems to have intel on everyone which is a plus, but her lone-wolf background and fancy technology might eventually coax her into grabbing one of us to pay off her own bounty." Nathalie shrugged slightly. "It's what I'd do if I had good odds."

"Roge and Belka. Seems inseparable. Work good together based on what I saw on VOC-1. Not sure how well they handle any situations coming their way when they're not tag-teaming it. That and always relying on a single teammate might make them isolate themselves from the rest of the group or make them freeze up should one of them go down. I'd put someone near them to keep an eye on them, just to be sure."

"The Kanad pilot whom, from what I've heard, was a child soldier-turned-mech ace. Good asset, though she is damaged goods. Probably has the best fighting spirit and self-preservation here but with her background I suspect she'd at least have PTSD. That said, anything could potentially make her snap. Combine that with an armored assault mech and you have yourself a recipe for disaster."

"Popsicle lady. Know too little about her and haven't really seen her up until today. Depending on how strong she is mentally whatever time shock that's coming her way might put her in a desperate fight-or-flight-mode if she thinks you're lying to her or intentionally withholding information from her."

"Vance Astro. Hell of a fighter, but I might be biased. Will do whatever it takes to see things through. One of the best men I've met, though he has a heavy past which despite our history I know surprisingly little of. Even though Blackwell's Reavers are the 'good' kind of pirates that aren't mindless butchers I'd still be careful where I put Vance. Any situation that he could perceive as evil or unjust could potentially make him turn."

"Amy Koronova. Has a rep longer and far larger than most others here. Has history with your mom, Valencia, which could be equally good as it could be bad. I read her file back in the academy; Amazing markswoman, has or had ties with the ASI-aligned Divinity Creed and is related to Alex Koronov, currently one of the SSOID's Top 50 High-Interest Individuals and immortal champion. Both are friends with the infamous Yanim Terrika whom I suspect you know more about than I do. In short though I suspect that Koronova would the last person you'd need to worry about."

"You also have Shelby. I'm still not sure if it's a boy or a girl under all that make-up but regardless, they seem to be way out of their comfort zone to say the least. Only positive I see in their case is that they'd most likely be dead on their own which means that they need the Reavers for physical safety against whatever it is they're running from. Emphasis on the last part, they are definitively running from something. I just don't know what it is." Nathalie smirked briefly. "Yet."

"As for the Reavers, well, we have your mother whom is infamous within most military- and intelligence-oriented organizations for all the wrong reasons. Extensive rap sheet, wanted practically everywhere there exists law enforcement and just lost your father." Nathalie paused and nodded towards Damien. "I'm sorry about your loss by the way." For a moment it seemed as if she wanted to say more but then it was as if the words or thoughts left her.

She blinked as to refocus before continuing; "Valkyrie is strong-willed and knows how to get things done, otherwise there wouldn't be so many people rallying around her. The problem is her current emotional state, something that could make her act out of emotion rather than logic. It could also potentially make her disregard other opinions even if they're from her own children or from her most trusted advisors."

"Your sister, Lauren, seems to be a wreck- she's combining alcohol with firearms and vice versa to cope with the loss your family's facing. Beyond that and a generally impulsive attitude void of any second thought I haven't really been able to get a good read on her. She seems to vanish and reappear for short durations, most likely to handle the grief on her own which could eventually lead to her snapping. Hard."

"Other Reavers include your armorer, whom isn't much of talker. In fact she is surprisingly boring to observe. Aesha, the racer, doesn't really stand out in any special or dangerous way. Both handle business like professionals and down-time just the way down-time should be handled: At the beach."

"I haven't really spoken with your mechanic, same goes for your medical team though one of them- Typhon- is a walking disaster waiting to happen. Considering the beliefs of his people I'm surprised no one has tried to openly gun him down to avenge a estranged cousin lost to some suicidal Artisynth zealot. Your navigator, Roku, is easily spooked. I'd keep him on a short leash and a very short one if I'm onboard the ship he's piloting."

"Lastly we have you, Damien Blackwell." Nathalie narrowed her eyes. "You're not like your mother or your sister, which makes me guess you're more like your father. That said, you're a spook but without the official title. Whereas Lauren is loud and violent you're quiet and observant. My guess is you have some rudimentary training, most likely from your father whom I know nothing about. That or you are self-learned and have some impressive instincts."

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. "Good enough for you?" There was a hint of a smile on her lips that quickly vanished.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja nods hazily to Easel's statements and remains wherever the woman had placed her. The CT scan would mostly re-confirm the damage that was already there but also show that some fresher damage has been dealt to her from the fiasco of piloting the mech. For a more detailed breakdown, it seems the small metal disc on the back of her neck is bolted to the C2 cervical vertebra by two little pins, thus explaining how it doesn't interfere with the movement range of her neck. The 'tattoos' throughout her body all seem to converge onto that disc and given the more in-depth scan, it's revealed that there's nanofilament wires leading from the disc through part of the spinal cord and up into the brainstem for the terminal connection point. The "threadwork" is impressive given the level of delicacy required to make it work, but it also explains why Katja's suffered damage through the overstayed cryostasis and more recent the feedback in the mech.

The assessment could show that the damage could be somewhat safely repaired with modern methods, but healing the damage with nanites could lead to an even stronger bond between the tissue and the monofilaments, potentially exacerbating the 'interference' that Katja said she was experiencing from radio waves and wireless communications. The small disc on the neck shows as the prime culprit as the scan shows the micro circuitry contained within is damaged in some places, likely rendering whatever "noise filter" that was there useless and also probably contributing to the incident in the mech cockpit with the bad severance. Katja will live if given time to recover, but leaving her damage in this state will only make her deterioration faster in the long run.

 

[joshuadim]

When Amy approached, Vance had managed to set the punching bag back in place on its support chain albeit a bit lighter due to some still missing sand from the inside. When she spoke, Vance turned his attention to her:

"Hey big guy, mind in helping me with something?" She leaned in a bit "My hand to hand is getting rusty and I need some practice against bigger opponents. Usually I'd ask my brother, but that can't happen now for obvious reasons, so you interested?"

"Sure thing." he replied, "I don't want to accidentally break something else here anyhow. Whaddaya need help with in particular? Grappling? Takedowns? CQC?"

 

[Breadman]

"Back on VOC-1 one of the goons grabbed me and gave me a harder time than I liked." She motioned for him to follow her to the mat. "He was about your size, so grappling and takedowns practice sounds good to me. Besides, I'm curious what secret technique you have up your sleeve." She winked "You may not be Sol military, but you're a soldier of some kind."

 

[joshuadim]

Vance followed Amy onto the nearby mat stretched his arms, "Well, you're right about that. I'm not Sol. It's a bit of a long story, but lets just say I'm not from... this time." he stated, "But yeah, I was a soldier. I got some moves that can help with your particular problem, ever hear of Brazilian jiu-jitsu? It's all focused on taking your enemy to the ground and pinning them and even using their joints against them." he explained, hopping up and down to warm himself up before motioning for Amy with his hand. "Throw a punch."

When Amy did so however, Vance quickly used her momentum against her as he sidestepped, grabbed her arm, and moved a leg behind her knee. With a simple push he quickly caused Amy to fall to the ground with her arm in Vance's grasp as he knelt above her. "You use someone's momentum against them and it doesn't matter how big the enemy is." He then released Amy's arm and helped her back up to her feet. "Its a simple maneuver, but there are plenty of more advanced techniques for different situations."

 

[Breadman]

"Alright!" Punch and a second later, she was on her back. This was familiar, even if the name was different. And that comment about time. Who was Vance really? "That felt familiar." She said as he helped her out. "You have any more of those tricks somewhere?" She gave him a smile.

 

[K0mori]

Zadra raised an eyebrow. "...Are you alright?" she asked, lowering her tablet a bit.

Vixaya looked up at her, but didn't speak immediately. Just as she opened her mouth, the two were interrupted.

As Lauren neared, she noticed Vixaya standing there as well. "Heeeeey, kid! How are ya? Still eating all that sugary stuff?"

The kanad looked away again, shutting her mouth with a grimace. She didn't appear to appreciate the noisiness, or maybe the exuberance, of Lauren at the moment. So much so, in fact, that she quickly reached to her coat pocket and switched off her translator before walking away, muttering almost miserably under her breath. "Tya mok rakir a sker ket mokhtin..."

Please just shut up and leave me alone.

While Typhon berated Lauren for drinking herself into a stupor, Vixaya left the mech shop, casting a glance to the other mechs and wondering if they were better than her own. The fact that they had somehow unearthed a 96/97 for her to use bothered her; her migration from the opposite side of the galaxy might as well have looped her back around, and instead of finding herself in a new stage of life, she was merely repeating the stage before.

Her stomach growled again. [Why did she have to mention food?] she thought to herself.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Shelby cradled the bottle of spirits and hurried away from the bar, content to go see Aesha and to get away from the creepy Sol woman. So far, the pirate life was pretty low-intensity, not counting the historical massacre they were all recovering from. But even that was an anomaly. And now the boss wanted revenge. Shelby could admire that. He wanted revenge, too, but he didn't have a nifty pirate crew and hidden planet base to back up his adventures. He had no idea what sort of stuff they were going to be getting up to when they leave the planet, but with all the heavy weapons and mechs, he suspected there would be lots of shooting. What could he even add to all that? It was like going to war, and he certainly wasn't a soldier.

Reaching the beach, he spotted Aesha and hurried over to her, bottle behind his back. "Miss Aesha!" he called, waving. He came up beside her and, after a second, pulled the bottle out from behind his back with an even wider smile. "I got you a present, see!"

---

Elsewhere, on Castilia
Sugar Beach Resort, Queen Pearl Suite, Business Annex

"Madam Teresa has arrived, sir."

Robert du Pont took a slow drag on his cigarette, saying nothing for a moment as he looked out the wide conference room window. It allowed one to look out over a significant portion of the beach and ocean as if they were royalty, as it was one of the highest establishments in this zoning district, owned by one of his own shell corporations and essentially a fully owned du Pont resort. Not everyone knew that, but the right people did. And that was all that mattered. Only the best service for the best kind of people. There was never any fuss about silly little accidents or misdemeanors. If a few street walkers went missing, or someone had a little too much to drink and regrettably 'hit their head,' the Sugar Beach Resort was fully suited to deal with little inconveniences like that. Naturally, the area was away from the underclass districts further down the atoll. If there was one matter the security forces of the various families could agree on, it was riff-raff was at the bottom and you do with them as you wish. Hell, it wasn't uncommon for rival corporation security teams to occasionally get together and have an enjoyable beat down on some neon freaks who happened to wander past the border. It was the afternoon so there wasn't much nightlife like that to see, but on a really good night you could take out some binoculars and - if you were lucky - spot something fun like that.

"How long has she been waiting?" he asked. The suited woman by the door didn't even need to look at her watch. "Four minutes and eleven seconds, sir."

"Perfect. Send her in now."

Forty seconds later, Teresa du Pont stepped into the conference room by herself. She was in a sleeved black day gown that demonstrated she was more than likely doing some formal business today, which made Robert smile a little. If he knew she was in black, he would have planned this outside on the patio. He was already in silver-grey so it wouldn't bother him one bit. Would be proper payback for when she made him come out to that yacht without boating shoes last month.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bobby, are you going to tell me whats going on now or what? You made me walk all the way here to your fucking playpen for a chit-chat, and then have the balls to make me wait? I can liquidate your little helium project you've been nurturing in a heartbeat, and all those storage tanks will be mine." Teresa du Pont was barely three feet into the meeting room before the words were spoken, the automatic door behind her punctuating her immediate tirade with a soft, pneumatic hiss. Robert disliked this, because the doors were supposed to be silent when they closed. If he could hear that, the custodial team wasn't maintaining it properly, and that would require a more thorough audit.

Putting that out of his mind for the moment, Robert du Pont smiled up at Teresa, taking one last drag on his cigarette before depositing it in a crystal ash tray. Nearby, a suited man took up the tray and replaced it with a clean identical one, leaving the room with the former. "Good afternoon, dear sister. I'm glad you could make it," he hummed, standing and offering his hand. A particularly sour frown crossed her lips, painted in a very specific, custom dark red that was unique only to her. "Don't you fucking dare play businessman with me," she snapped. Robert couldn't resist the little social barb. By offering his hand first, he indicated she was the inferior - something she would kill someone over.

"A drink, please, for Teresa." Robert snapped his fingers. Another man lingering in the corner of the room approached with a beverage that was finished exactly upon her entry to the room, and he brought it over, placing it on the wide, soft-cornered whalebone meeting table. It was her typical mixed drink - Rayven No. 9, dashed with a shot of Clear Sky Vodka, and granted two ice cubes using water from the southern pole. To this day, Robert still was not certain how she knew where the water came from, but he had often played with her by giving ice cubes from different sources - the north pole, from the desalination plants, offworld sources, and almost every time she knew. He once used the hotel's premium tap water, and she spat the drink out.

But this business was too important for childish games today. She calmed, slightly, when she took a sip and realized this.

"I've been furnished with some particularly interesting information from the Crown just this morning." He glanced over at the main window - overlooking the resort's private lagoon where residents lounged in the sun and surf amid perfect white sand - and the glass darkened, a 172-inch holoscreen appearing in an instant. On it, a brief role of footage from the VOC-1 Incident, with special care to a particular blonde haired individual mixed in. Teresa watched, her thin patience holding. The implication was obvious before Robert began to explain. "The algorithms and data specialists have mulled this over for a while. Full analysis - rerun, crosschecked, rerun again, filtered. They even let the Garden AI have a private examination. And since we have a full profile of his mannerisms and behavior since the day he was born, on top of genetic predisposition and careful predictive pattern creation... it's him."

"That cocksucker. Pirates. Really? Oh, if father hadn't forbade us from touching him, I'd leave him a proper mark to remember me by after I sell him to the cheapest, filthiest, red street pit I can find," Teresa sneered, her fingernails tapping against the table. Red, like her lips, an exact coloration. The nails were also augmetic - her entire hands were - and were sharp and hard enough to kill. It was one of her first augmentations, and Robert still had the scar on his forearm from when they were teens and he had complimented her "fiscally conservative" taste after she bought a new pair of heels. Unlike some other scars, he kept this one, a mark of how much the family loved each other. "If he's with pirates, they'll turn him into a toy."

"Not these pirates, fortunately. The Reavers, as they call themselves. These aren't the typical lane busters who would put Shelby up for trade on the skin market, or even turn in his bounty - ours, or the one from this massacre. Which, by the way, may very well be doctored. We've studied the footage so much, the algorithm didn't like something about it, and the Garden AI flagged it for review. So, go figure. Regardless, lesser computing hasn't picked up on it, so for the time being his image - our image - is preserved. The marketing team is already working on a plan to integrate this little wayward adventure of his into his next operation, so don't fret about that. Anyways. These Reavers aren't your usual trash, so Shelby may have stumbled his way into a good party to keep him safe."

"How safe?" Teresa asked.

"Ah... allow me to say that we have the right people on the job," he chuckled. "That kind of safe. The biggest hurdle isn't trying to find him, it's him getting offed before we do." Robert gestured at the frozen footage on the screen. "Considering what the Reavers may have, or may not have done, we aren't the only ones with a vested interest in their actions. He's a prostitute in every sense of the word. He'll blow his cover when convenient to save his skin, in which case he may be auctioned back off to us. But if those blood zealots get a hold of him, they don't care about the money, nor respecting our interests."

"Has father been informed yet?" Teresa asked. Robert shook his head, lighting up another cigarette. "No. He tasked me with returning Shelby to the family, and that gives me full purview over the matter. More importantly, I felt that you should be the first to know. After all, we are his elder siblings. We can... discipline him in very special ways that Father and Mother may not approve of. And of course, they'll punish him in their own way after we do. He'll deserve it. And do keep discrete about this information. If Grandfather finds out, he would... disapprove."

 

[joshuadim]

"Tricks? I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that ma'am. I prefer being rather straightforward when I beat the crap out of someone that deserves it." Hoping the joke would land with Amy, he simply laughed it off before continuing to speak: "In all seriousness, there are plenty of other moves for differing situations or positions you might find yourself in. Even in such times of technology and other doodads, hand-to-hand will always be relevant. That's what I was trained for: to adapt to any combat situation as best as I could. Although... I suppose this situation is far different than anything I've ever been in. I mean being framed for the massacre of VOC-1? Watching my friend die? Having a bounty on my head while Sol is likely scrambling to-"

He stopped himself at the last moment as he chuckled and shook his head, "It's just... people often think of monsters as creatures from some scary stories. And yet we have pieces of work like Anora running around doing all this... it's not right that nothing's being done about them. At least not by anyone in charge. I just can't help but wonder if we, a group of pirates, outlaws, misfits and who knows what else, are the only ones standing up to the Blood Corps right now. Doesn't necessarily rouse a lot of confidence."

He then gave off a resigned sigh, "I thought that maybe I could get away from it all for once and try to live at least for even a bit. And yet here I find myself... a stranger out of time who's only ever getting sucked back into trouble. And others near me getting hurt for it." When he finished speaking, he realized how utterly crazy he must have sounded to suddenly go off on such a tangent and quickly laughed. "Jeez, I really do know how to ramble on don't I?" he asked rhetorically in an embarrassed fashion before walking away and out of the gym, leaving Amy by her lonesome at the mat. Now back outside, Vance walked along the shoreline again in an impatient manner as his anger got the best of him again. What the hell are we doing here still? We should be going after that bastard and her entire operation. Yet we're stuck here doing nothing! his mind screamed out at him, practically goading him to try to take matters into his own hands.

But he knew that would practically be suicide to go at it alone especially in such uncertain times with the whole galaxy out for his, and everyone else from the VOC-1 incident's, blood. And so instead, he moved to find Valkyrie and try to find out what was being done, if anything. It didn't take long to find her as she was standing with her captains on the beach as he approached her: "I don't mean to push or anything but when are we going to start going after the Blood Corps?" he asked aloud with the bluntness of a hammer before quickly scoffing at himself, "Sorry, that was rude of me. It's just... every day that we sit by is another day that those psychopaths are running around doing god knows what to how many other folk. That very idea just makes me restless."

 

[Infab]

Zadra massaged the bridge of her nose between her eyes, as Lauren loudly approached. Roku could have taken her to the actual bar instead of leaving her here. Jackass. She then glanced up to see Typhon had entered and was now confronting Lauren about her drinking. And Vixaya had left. Shit. She looked over as Olivia, whom had been interrupted while talking to her about her mech's paint. She looked back around the shop. "GET YOUR ASSES BACK TO WORK." she barked. The Reavers, whom had stopped to watch, quickly went back to what they were doing. Ignoring the situation that had unfolded before them. She then redirected her attention back to Olivia. "What did you want? Repaint the outer armor panels and give them a lacquer coating?"

Meanwhile, Lauren's face twisted into a scowl. "Listen, Tetanus, I'm fine. And I can drink whenever the fuck I want to. You can even run off to tell mom, I don't give a rat's ass." she replied, before looking around. Vixaya had left. "Where'd the kid go?... Fuck. Oh well." she said, breathing a sigh. She spun about, wobbling just a little, before strolling towards the exit. "Thanks for killing my mood, Doc! Really. Fucking thanks." she said loudly, as she walked to the opening and outside into the line of pedestrian traffic.

​

"Good enough for you?"

Damien nodded. "Impressive." he said, glancing to Nathalie as they walked. "The primary ones we need to watch are Kalashi, Vance, and Katja. Katja being the name of the 'popsicle' woman. I get that you know and trust Vance well enough, but his morals might alienate him from the group if we do something he doesn't agree with in order to achieve what my mother wants." They eventually emerged into the clearing, partially constructed buildings coming into view. It looked as if they were building a pretty expansive base instead of a settlement, with concrete and steel being used here and there in the shape of a wall surrounding it all. Perhaps a fortification to act as a ground base for the Reavers as a whole?

As they walked along the path, past the 'wall' and past some partially built structures filled with building materials and rebar, Damien continued. "Kalashi is selfish, as well as a bounty hunter. If something comes up where she's forced to choose, she'll save her own ass first and sell us out in the process. I fully expect something like that to happen in the future. And when it does, I will not hesitate to have a bullet planted in her brain. Or what's left of it inside of that cybernetic shell."

They paused, looking up at a large central structure in the process of early construction. Reavers moving about, mixing and pouring concrete and preparing the internal frame and skeleton of the building. "Katja is a wildcard, as we know so little about her. She'll need to be watched. The rest of them, we can work with. Figure out what we need to do to keep them in line, and working to advance our goals."

He then glanced to Nathalie as he stood there, before looking back to the structure. "...I learned some of what I know from my father. He was good at reading people. Could tell quite a lot about you just from watching you from a few minutes. The little details tell a lot. How someone talks, how they dress, how they carry themselves. How they look at other people. The weapons they carry, and how they've been modified. The company they keep. Something he learned when he was a teenager from an old pirate captain. When he abandoned us...I picked up more information gathering and stealth skills from Slade and his crew whenever my mother and Slade decided to work together on something. Hacking, surveillance, disguises, tactical cloaking, close quarters combat... a lot of stuff. Everything else? Instinct."

"...As for my father's death..." he said, glancing back to Nathalie, "...No need to worry. He lost all of my respect the day he left. So he was dead to me long before his actual death." He was quiet for a moment afterwards, before turning back around. "Now...You're former SSOID. Running from Sol. Either you found something you shouldn't have or killed someone you shouldn't have. Both you and Vance were likely on the same task force. And as such, both of you are being hunted. I'm guessing the rest of the task force is dead?"

​

"I got you a present, see!"

Aesha, whom had laid back down after Loudmouth finally wandered off, sat up a little and opened her eye. First, her gaze went to Shelby and how they were dressed. She raised an eyebrow a bit, before her eye traveled to the bottle being presented to her. Whiskey. High-proof. Top shelf, it looked like. "Holy shit!" she said, sitting up completely and taking the bottle. "Hell yes, thank you!" she said, removing the cork, and taking a drink. Smooth. Really smooth.

​

"I don't mean to push or anything but when are we going to start going after the Blood Corps?" he asked aloud with the bluntness of a hammer before quickly scoffing at himself, "Sorry, that was rude of me. It's just... every day that we sit by is another day that those psychopaths are running around doing god knows what to how many other folk. That very idea just makes me restless."

Valkyrie spun about, looking to Vance as he approached and spoke. The other captains looked over as well, Chang eyeballing the hell out of Vance almost immediately. When Vance finished, Valkyrie went to speak. Eve, however, cut her off. "I am awaiting a response from an informant. They are familiar with ONI activities in the Renegade Quadrant, and may have information on the man that framed all of you. When they respond, I will provide you with all the information and details I am given. They should be responding fairly soon."

Slade spoke up afterwards. "The Blood Corps are hard to track. They constantly move, and we've no idea where they've set up their home base. If they even have one. That's why we're having to work through informants and other sources for the time being." Eventually, Valk got her word in. "I want them dead as much as you do, Vance. If not more. Just wait for an hour, and we should have something."

​

After running through the data, Easel stood near Katja. Contemplating the correct course of action to deal with what was going on. Nanites would work, but she didn't know exactly how they would interact with the implant. It could potentially damage it, preventing her from using her mech ever again, or it could amplify its effects. It was a risk. A big risk. But the nanites could reverse some, if not most of the damage caused to her brain by the implant. Allowing her to live far longer than she could currently.

She glanced to the Reavers standing nearby, before motioning to the field kit. "Hand me a nanite shot." she stated. One of the Reavers dug through the medical kit, drawing out a needle full of a grey liquid. He handed it over promptly, and Easel prepared it for use. A moment later, the contents were being injected into Katja's neck.

 

[Breadman]

Jeez, I really do know how to ramble on don't I?

"Vance, it's alright, you don't have to..." She tried to calm him down, but it was already too late. He already left to who knows where. She placed her hands on her hips and let out a resigned sigh. "There goes the sparing partner." Amy muttered and looked around. Not many of the pirates left that she would bother with. Roge was already busy with his cardio, so dragging him over wouldn't do either of them good. There was someone else who could fit as Vance's replacement.

Amy walked over towards the heavy lifting area. Where Drav looked to be in deep concentration as she lifted weights the bounty hunter never could hope to even budge. She waited for the Khergian to finish her set before saying anything, just hovering a bit awkwardly nearby.

"Hey, my training partner had to leave for urgent business." She said "I still need to practice against people bigger than me. Interested?"

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"Listen, Tetanus, I'm fine. And I can drink whenever the fuck I want to. You can even run off to tell mom, I don't give a rat's ass."

Typhon's expression resets just enough for the scowl to go away as Lauren provided an excellent suggestion to him. "Good idea." he snaps at her before going his own way. If she won't or can't follow doctor's orders, then maybe she'll listen to Valkyrie. Lauren might not care about her own wellbeing very much, but he knows her mother certainly will; especially since their family already has suffered a grave loss not too long ago. And if she won't listen to her either, well then she'll just have to die from her own stupid impulsiveness and he'll have to do with a third of his paycheck gone. At that point there's nothing much he can do about it if or when it comes to that, but he'll have tried at least.

With Easel having taken Katja back to the med-bay and Lauren thankfully going elsewhere and bothering some other unfortunate person with her drunken self, Typhon's able to hear his own thoughts as he strolls through the Cove's streets in search of a mini-mart. Something's bothering him about this though and he can't help but think about it as he watches Reavers walk on by, mothers walking with their children, friends hanging out, and the people here in general acting as if the events of the past weeks haven't marked them all for death. All it'll take is just one of them being followed here, and then the Kingdom, or Sol, or the Federation, or worst of all, the Blood Corps will have the entire planet glassed. And while Sol and the Federation might have mercy on the non-Reavers here, the Blood Corps surely won't. When you're a wanted group, having a stationary base of operations is not such a good idea. Concerns like this is why the Lions haven't ever stayed in one place. They've made their ship their headquarters, not a station or a planet. They're always on the move, never stopping or staying anywhere for anything except fuel. Many attempts on their lives have been evaded because of this, so he can't help but feel a little vulnerable while he's here.

Eventually he spots a fuel station with a small vendor's shop across the street. A little hut looking building selling stolen convenience wares that really don't have much of a place on the black market. The doors slide open for him as he walks past them and he's greeted with the smell of stale coffee and cooked hot dogs. Inside, there's a few rows full of snacks, care products, random trinkets, and other assorted things. There's also a few cooler cabinets in the back stocked with all sorts of drinks from alcohol to coffee to pop. A mother was arguing with her child about buying bags of sweetie crisps in one of the isles, and a Reaver was being indecisive as to get either a bottle of Icy Fizz or a can of Scheuerbrew Lite. Typhon browses the isles until he finds what he's looking for near the counter: a shelf with the particular brand of cigarettes he's looking for. Something new's about them though and he picks them up to find out. One of the carton's sides has been completely covered with a gruesome image of a man who's face is rotting away. His teeth are nearly all gone with what's left of them having been reduced to brown nubs, his skin has become thin and blemished, and his neck is leathery. An obnoxious surgeon general's warning underneath very obviously points out that this is a consequence of smoking. Typhon's slow forming grimace is reflected over the man's face in the plastic overwrap.

'Rub it in, why don't you...' he almost grunts aloud.

The vendor looks up from a magazine she was reading to see Typhon walking up to the counter with that carton in his hands. She picks it up and places it in a bag.

"That it?" she asks him. Typhon nods and slides over a credit chit to her. Before she takes it however, she briefly examines him rather curiously. "Hey... aren't you the new doctor Valk hired?"

"I am." he responds. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no... Just never really met a doctor actually buying smokes, you know?" She raises the bag with the carton in it. "I mean, a lot of doctors I've seen tell people to stay away from these or else it'll kill them..."

Typhon does nothing but stare back in silence. Feeling a little guilty for putting him on the spot, she tries reassuring him.

"Hey but look, it's your money. If you wanna buy these then I won't-"

"Just give me the carton."

"..."

She didn't say anything else as she quickly handed the bag over and processed his payment. "Stay good now, you hear?" she says to him as he walks out.

Soon enough, the med-bay doors open and Typhon slides in. Looks like Easel's done what he's asked to Katja, but is also giving her a dose of nanites.

"Feeling better?" he asks Katja while he sets his bag down at the counter.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja appears a little less hazy compared to when she was out in the clearing, but definitely still suffering some aftereffects. She kinda slurs her words a little bit as she speaks, "Yeahhh... A little." She gets a brief twinge of pain in her head and clutches it with her hand, "What's the story then? Don't sugarcoat it, please." She holds still for Easel's nanite infusion and when that comes to pass it feels like ants dancing around the inside of her head as the damaged tissue is repaired, causing some minor discomfort as neural pathways are restored.

If they run another battery of scans after the duration of nanites passes, they'll find that the damaged areas have more or less been restored to original state. However, the matter of the nanofilament weaves though her brainstem and top of the spinal cord have become harder to detect. They're still there but it seems the nanites assumed the filaments were part of the damaged tissue and appear to have converted some of the atomic structure of the filaments into a more "compatible" material to better serve the need of repairing the perceived "damage." Given the knowledge of the interface junction disc at the back of her neck and how it's circuitry is damaged, this could mean almost any number of things. The deeper integration of the interface pathways to the central nervous system, would cause Katja's hallucinations from whatever sort of radio interference the tattoos pickup to be intensified or somehow manifest more frequently.

There is still the matter of cognitive function after the damage is repaired though, there's no knowing what sort of things were locked away or even lost behind the damage sustained in the cryosleep.

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"What's the story then? Don't sugarcoat it, please."

Not sugarcoating things isn't a struggle for Typhon.

"You're brain damaged." he bluntly states.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja squints at him and replies in a dry tone, "Gee, will I ever be able to play the piano again, Doctor?" She's sobered up a little bit at Typhon's rather blunt assessment of her state, "I kinda gathered there was some brain damage going on but given that she gave me a 'nanite' shot, does that mean I'm cured or something or is there still other problems to deal with?"

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"I kinda gathered there was some brain damage going on but given that she gave me a 'nanite' shot, does that mean I'm cured or something or is there still other problems to deal with?"

"There is more." answers Typhon. "And I will not have you cleared until I have completed a thorough assessment of your mental status because of the damage. And due to the nature of those tattoos, " he waggles a finger towards them, "and how you interface with your mech, therapy may be necessary." he adds. "Just a preventative measure to ensure you will not be stuck in a negative feedback loop, is all."

He then walks over to where his datapad's been resting on the counter and starts flipping through a few screens on it. The data from the scan's all here, it seems. This is good, and now he'll know just how he'll handle this assessment and what to look for specifically.

"I would like to begin this assessment now if you do not mind." He turns his head over to look at Easel nearby. "Easel, is there anything left before we start? Or anything you wish to add?"

 

[Viper Actual]

Nathalie nodded silently as Damien shared his own thoughts on Kalashi, Katja and Vance in particular. All which she agreed with. While listening to Damien's reasoning behind the aforementioned statement Nat made sure to observe and memorize everything she could see about the structures which looked rather militant for a settlement. Then again it could also be a precaution in the event of an attack.

Listening to Damien speak about his own experiences and rudimentary training reminded a lot about Nathalie's own training. Biggest difference was obviously that she had been trained by several different handlers during extremely structured and well-planned conditions before being sent to the field with a senior agent to begin her career as a field operative, all part of a advanced training plan to prepare agents and operatives for real missions and eventually guiding them far enough to the point where they learn to operate on their own or as part of small-scale teams with limited support whereas Damien's past experience would most likely differ heavily in terms of structure and control.

That and the SSOID had a seemingly endless pool of resources as long as you operated near the Sol borders. Strike teams, analysts, safe-houses etcetera were all readily available for support most of the time unless you were deep under cover or sent far away from Sol and its allies.

"...No need to worry. He lost all of my respect the day he left. So he was dead to me long before his actual death."

Nathalie narrowed her eyes slightly and nodded. "Understood. I won't bring it up again." His decision, his choice. At least Damien seemed to be far more clear-headed than Lauren and Valk, just as Nat initially had presumed him to be.

When Damien followed up with his question Nathalie's expression turned blank. She shrugged slightly before rotating herself to face the building near them, avoiding eye-contact completely. "The less you know the better." She shook her head. "I made a sacrifice and- believe it or not- it was for the greater good, for something important. I burned myself in the process and got marked. Regardless of what actually happened I'll be hunted for the rest of my life. Vance got off lucky- all eyes were on me."

"It was better that way. He deserved an honest chance at rebuilding his life, as difficult as it may be without a multi-system intelligence organization tracking you down." Nathalie glanced at Damien, eyes locking. "Don't bother asking him about what happened either; Even if he did tell you he doesn't know the entire story. It's better that way."

She sighed. "As for our team, well, last time I checked they were still around. Not sure where they are now or what they are doing but then again we didn't part on the friendliest of terms." Nathalie turned to face Damien again. "Anything more than that is top secret."

"You'll have to buy me a drink to hear the rest," she said half-jokingly, offering a sarcastic wink at the end.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja blinks as Typhon rattles off things in her direction, some of it making sense, some of it kinda flying in one ear and out the other, however the part about an assessment got through to her, "Right, we can start now then, but I'm pretty sure I'm still playing the game with a full deck, jokers wild of course." She sits herself up a little bit and looks at Easel for a moment then back to Typhon, "So what's the assessment, you're not gonna be sticking probes in my brain are you?"

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"So what's the assessment, you're not gonna be sticking probes in my brain are you?"

“Interesting suggestion.” muses Typhon. “That would make this much faster and easier. Would you allow this?”

 

[Frankafurter]

"Of course, Doc, while you're at it, think you could nerve staple me too? I always wanted to be a lobotomite." Katja sarcastically replies then adds, "No, I will not allow that. If the scanners didn't pick anything up, I'm not about to let you turn my head into a fliptop box and poke around in it."

 

[Infab]

"I would like to begin this assessment now if you do not mind." He turns his head over to look at Easel nearby. "Easel, is there anything left before we start? Or anything you wish to add?"

Easel glanced to Typhon. "What I worry about most is the nanomachines' interaction with the implant. Potentially, it could either damage the implant or amplify its workings. We'll know in time, and with a little experimentation." she stated. "But I believe the nanomachines in the shot will mend your brain. Restoring the damaged brain tissue to working condition."

​

"Hey, my training partner had to leave for urgent business." she said, "I still need to practice against people bigger than me. Interested?"

Drav ceased her weight lifting, setting the weights back down and straightening up to look at Amy. After looking at her for a moment, she glanced around to the rest of the gym. "Okay." she responded, grabbing a towel from nearby. After briefly wiping off sweat, she moved over to where Amy was. "What need Drav do?" she stated, looking down at the redhead.

​

"You'll have to buy me a drink to hear the rest."

Damien smirked slightly. "Right." he said, before motioning for Nathalie to follow as he headed back towards the settlement. "Is there anything you particularly need around here for your work? I might be able to spare something. Either onboard the Guillotine, or here in Diamond Cove. Besides the back channels, of course."

​

Elsewhere...

SNV Workhorse
Southwestern Edge of Sol Territory


"CARGO BAYS FOUR, FIVE, SIX, AND SEVEN HAVE BEEN DESTROYED. HEAVY DAMAGE DETECTED TO CARGO BAY THREE AND EIGHT. SEALING OFF AFFECTED AREAS."
...
...
"SECURITY TEAM NEEDED IN CARGO BAY THREE. HOSTILE INTRUDERS DETECTED. LETHAL FORCE IS AUTHORIZED."
...
...
"MEDICAL TEAM NEEDED IN CARGO BAYS THREE, TWO, AND ONE. NUMEROUS CASUALTIES DETECTED."

The sounds of the shutters slamming shut towards the midsection of the freighter was barely audible, as alarms sounded throughout the vessel. It had been a cascade of alarms, really, all beginning with the alert of possible intruders in Cargo Bay 6. Now, there was no Cargo Bay 6. It had exploded, and took its neighboring cargo bays with it. Almost ripping the ship clean in half.

But whatever had caused the blast was still alive, and was determined to kill the rest of the crew that was left. The bridge crew at the front of the cargo freighter clutched their weapons, as they listened to the traffic over comms. Bursts of weapons fire and dying screams crackled through. Mostly. Other times, it was strange, horrifying noises. As if something was feeding. Attempts had been made to send out a distress signal, but the nearest ship was an hour away. Nobody would reach them in time.

Eventually, no more gunfire was heard. No more screams. The alarms still sounded, but otherwise, all the bridge crew was their own panicked breathing as they stared at the locked door between the bridge and the rest of the freighter. And then, they heard a knock on the steel door. Three taps, as if someone was knocking on someone's front door. Weapons snapped up, aiming at the door. "P-PLEASE JUST LEAVE US ALONE! WE HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING!" shouted one of the crewmen.

There was silence for a moment, before three more taps sounded off from the door. One of the four crewmen on the bridge opened fire in a panic, sub machine-gun fire pelting the door. Punching holes through it. Another few moments of silence passed. Then a voice could be heard on the other side, as several eyes appeared through the holes in the steel plating. "Now, that wasn't very nice!"

Suddenly, the door creaked and groaned. Sparks shooting into the room. The door was being ripped off. The other crew members opened fire, just as the door was taken off, but found themselves shooting into nothingness. Shots darted down the empty hallway on the other side of the door. Whatever was there, wasn't there any longer. The bridge crew watched, waiting for something to happen. For the creature to appear. But nothing appeared. "N-Nathan...go...Go check it out." said one. "FUCK you, Dawson!" spat back another.

One of them would soon move, however. As the other three looked to him, they would witness blood spurt from his neck. A wide cut appeared, from one side of his neck to the other, red trickling down from his neck as he clutched at it to try and get it to stop. He'd crumple to the floor, just as another of the crew members was hit. A flat-headed machete manifested into existence, jutting out of the top of his head. He'd collapse next, as the remaining two flew into a panic. Before they could get their weapons up to fire around the room, however, a burst of light machine-gun fire folded them in half.

And finally, the bridge was quiet once again. "...Easy enough." muttered a rough voice, seemingly out of thin air. Eventually, a lone figure slowly shifted into existence, standing in the middle of the bridge. Tapping a small holoband on his wrist as he gazed down at the corpses of the bridge crew. It was a older man, who's brown hair had started to slowly receed to the top of his head, with a beard covering his chin which connected to his longer sideburns. The left side of his head, next to and covering his ear and left eye, was covered in a bad burn scar, which also feared three deep claw marks. "A bit too easy!" said another voice, from the doorway. A young man with a lavender colored mohawk appeared, clad in a black jumpsuit as he strolled casually through the door into the room. Black markings slowly moved down his neck, disappearing beneath the jumpsuit's spiked collar. The older man glanced to the younger one, before motioning to the comms console nearby. "They sent out a distress signal already."

The younger one smiled. "Well, I guess that settles that! We have to blow the ship up!" he said, almost giddily. The older man nodded. "I'll set the charges. Should probably let your sister know that the job is done." He strolled back through the doorway, as the younger man pulled up his holoband and tapped on it. A moment later, a short-haired blonde woman's face appeared on a holographic screen. "[Is it done, brother?]" she asked.

The young man nodded. "[Yes, dearest sister. The captured Transsentience Cult equipment and tech has been destroyed. We have to destroy the rest of the vessel, however. They managed to get a distress call out before we could breach into the bridge.]" The woman tilted her head slightly, as she glanced off-screen. "[Do what you wish. The task I asked of you and your servant is complete. But I do have another task for you afterwards.]"

The young man raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "[Anything for you, sister. What might this task be?]" he soon asked. She glanced back to the screen. "[A mutual friend of ours has contacted us about something of importance. Shadespear Terminal is where you need to go. I'll fill you in on the details once you've arrived.]"

 

[Breadman]

"Well...I've actually never fought a Khergian in hand to hand before." Amy started to explain "Only one that came close was sister Viga from my Alpha sister days, but she just tossed me across the room one time. Rest of what I know is looking at footage about your techniques and fighting styles. That's not enough to get a good idea of what to do." She paused for a second to make sure Drav wasn't getting annoyed with her. "Show me what you know and lets take it from there."