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wendal
Topic Author
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon 04 Nov 2019, 23:51

Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Sat 14 Mar 2020, 03:55

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05.  

William Allen, the albino convict is drifting in and out of the utter chaos roiling around in his head, shifting his body around on occasion to prevent the cramps that have already settled in his bones from getting any worse. ‘What a fucking mess… All of it’ This thought he has had many times over since his capture. Hands zip tied tightly behind his back, ankles zip tied even tighter together, the YY chromo lying on his side, his tall lanky frame stretched out in the centre of the infirmary, toward the back of the room where all the beds used to be, there frames lined up along the walls back in his day. Wishing they still were at this point, the cold hard tiles of the floor have been more than uncomfortable over the several hours here, unable to rest at all. The first of which were spent even more uncomfortable and resulted in a burn to his arm, one he can still feel, the radiator that ‘bastard’ marine strapped him too had activated hours later. 

‘That twat.’ Believing he did it on purpose, wanting a little payback, the type of guy he is, this would usually be his first order of business, however, since his close encounter with. ‘Whatever the fuck it was?’ Up there in the ducts and having witnessed Billy's much more intimate, closer encounter with the thing, he now has a more pressing issue at hand. ‘How to get the fuck off this rock!’ Something he should have simply been able to do upon request, now however he is being detained, in USCMC custody of all things, currently waiting for whatever decisions are to be made about what to do with him other than. ‘This!’ Drifting again down into the confusion and stress, toes dipping once more into events and how they got him here.

All he was trying to do and has tried to do since his arrival on Fury is what he was hired and tasked to by the corporation, to map this. ‘Godforsaken shit hole!’ Not a day into that one job and the convict, former rival Billy and ‘his little bitch’ Drace showed up to put a spanner in the works. William made quick work of Drace, one stab to the chest, which killed him. ‘In self defence… And he fucking deserved it.’ William will admit to the former hands down and has done so already to one of them out there, the law is in his favour. ’Pointlessly.’ It would appear. Trying to do the same with Billy that he had done to his ‘whore’ lead to a hole in his own neck. ‘With my own blade…’ After that, an almost  one way ticket and trip back to hell. ‘Solitary.’ And finally, the one thought he doesn’t want to think about surfaces above the others, the true source of his anxiety washing over them, the close encounter with. ‘That fucking thing up there.’ 

All of it has resulted in him once again being a prisoner on Fury 161, the technicalities involved do nothing for the irony he feels and he hated it. Rolling onto his back, moving slowly, his throat hurting with the motion, the crude bandage of heavy fabric wrapped around his neck shifts, folds digging into the tender wound beneath until his head falls back completely. Looking up, red eyes staring at the ceiling then the low hanging, rusty encased halogen tube that lights the entire room the best it can, one of the few dotted around the compound that still actually works he is sure of it. The long bulb blinds him a little, leaving a residual glare, a long flared after image over his field of view where the light just was, he has been doing this over and over so that when he eventually does look around the room, the multiple and easily accessible access hatches leading back up into the ventilation network and away from here are slightly obscured. ‘Nope...’ Shaking his head again before the thoughts can form and his eyes drift back over to where he knew each one was, not wanting to go back up there again since sprinting into the black and being found by the marines, or he found them, either one being unfortunate at the time.

The YY begins to wriggle, shifting about, testing his bonds more than he has done before, his body has grown restless in its confined state. He has been in many types of restraints over the years and he knew the worst kind for anyone to be in long term were. ‘Zip ties... Sharp fuckers.' Cutting into his skin. But there's a catch. 'So easy to break.' Even the tougher ones that the military use have the same weakness, a shatter point to be exploited at the right angle, with the right strength applied to them. So far he has not tried, the marines have not been in to check on him personally at any point, the door has opened a few times with one of them hovering behind the plastic curtain out of view but that has been it. Bringing him to the firm conclusion that one of them is most likely sat out there with his motion tracker active. ‘Might as well test that theory.’ He thinks.

Lifting his knees up and using his feet to push, slowly he slides around the room awkwardly on his back and keeps it up until his wound becomes unbearable, possibly split and seeping beneath the bodged bandage, the moment he gives up he hears the door as it is burst through, almost the same as before, this time it sounds with less force and with a few more seconds added to the arrival as the younger of the two marines whips aside the plastic sheet, pulse rifle up, aimed down directly at him as he enters the room slowly and. 'Alone.'
“What are you doing?” Noticing he is still bound but not where they left him, the marine lowers his weapon. “You know I have you tagged.” Tapping the motion tracker hanging beside him. “Whenever you move it tells me.” 
“I was uncomfortable.” William says twisting onto his side with a shrug barely looking at him now. “Do you know how hard it is to get comfortable tied up like this. The Rookies expression hints at confusion and a pinch of nervousness even if he is trying so hard not to show it, his age gives it away more than anything, just hanging there for the convict to see and possibly exploit, clearly he is wondering why there was so much movement coming from inside the room from his tied up suspect.
“Stretching my legs.” Lifting one of his long legs up into the air then the other. “Can’t really do my arms.”
“Good for you.” The Rookie says looking around the room. “Now that is out of your system, stop moving.” The Rookie says before looking around once more, briefer this time.

“For the love of god, can I have some water…” William pleads and leaves it in the air as the marine walks around the room. ‘Checking whatever it is he is checking?’ During a moment when the marines back is turned the YY flexes against zip ties around his wrists, in that instant and without drawing any attention to himself in any way at all he knew he could easily get out of them. ‘Then what? Still can’t fly… Still in custody…’ The Rookie stops, without saying anything he reaches into a pouch at his side and pulls out a thick disc, a twist and telescopic slide and the puck is now a cup. Slinging his rifle the marine retrieves his sleek canteen and fills it without spilling a drop, putting it on the floor so he can reattach the cap to his canteen and put it away. Walking over to the YY.
“Don’t try anything.” The Rookie pausing with the notion. 
“It’s cool.”
The marine then moves over to his side, leaning down he grabs the convict and drags him towards the wall.
“Argh.. My neck, shit man…” William tries not to yelp as his pain flares with each jolt until he is sat up against a wall. “You think I can do anything with this.” Referring to the wound, lifting his head up, hating how he received it and the marine just looks at it. The YY knew in this state he couldn’t take a marine, even a rookie, as much as he hates to admit it.

“Here…” The marine moves back over to the cup, picks it up and brings it over to him, kneeling beside William he places it to his lips and pours it into his mouth.
“Ah… Ow… Er..” Between each swallow, every gulp stretching the wound at his throat, the Rookie expects some sort of gap where there is none judging by his slow tipping of the cup, the YY sips until the last drops are slurped annoyingly free from the rim.
“Ah… Ow….” And. “Cheers.” The drink hurt but he needed it. “Lucky I didn’t spring a leak…” William chokes a little on the pain and the joke falls flat, the marine not going for it at all. 
“Anything else?” The Rookie asks collapsing the cup with an audible. “Snap.” 
“Yeah.” The convict follows.
“What?” The marine says then shuffles on the spot before grabbing his weapon, back in his hands he asks again. “What?” This time it sounds more like a command.
“I tried to tell you before…”
“And that was?” 
“Look, I know what this is gonna sound like…” William pauses, trying to figure out how best to word exactly what he was about to say.
“Crazy… And I have seen some shit kid let me tell you.” Not even thinking of how he is referring to the marine as he continues, oblivious to his change in stance upon hearing the remark and not liking it.

“Right, remember I was telling you that this was all just a couple cons with an old score to settle.”
“Yeah.” And the Rookie nods thinking back.
“Well there was the one you found…”
“You mean the one you killed?” The marine says.
“Yeah.” Answering quickly, forgetting the factual self defence plea that makes it look a little better, if not acceptable in most places regarding the parties involved.
“Mm hm...”
“Well the other guy, Billy.” William spits his name out, as he looks ahead. “He did this.” Again the YY lifts his head, the wound flares as he displays his neck, the pain prevents him from looking up completely. “When he was about to finish me off…” Skipping the ‘solitary’ portion of the event, diving straight to the ‘Fucked up conclusion. “Something attacked him… Just jumped right onto his face… From out of nowhere, I think it was strangling him...” Finally he had spoken it aloud to someone, William turns back to the marine waiting for his. ‘What attacked him.’ So that he could explain in more detail.
“You expect me to believe that... Like at all.” The Rookies says, pausing to look around as if another party would shed light on what the hell he just said, instead his words shoot William down in a flaming heap, he looks at the marine, so obviously not convinced at all by any of what he had just heard, it’s all over his face, William somehow had totally botched the revelation of the creature in the ducts and the marine turns to leave. Trying to think quick, to somehow recover and failing as he loses his only window to share the nightmare that he definitely saw, all he can think of is to share more. “Something fucking attacked him, and its up there…. A CREATURE.” William raises his voice leaning forward as the marine disappears out of view behind the plastic sheet. “AND ITS FUCKED!” Shouting again, shaking his head again not wanting the thoughts to settle. Sat up right, he now has a better view, a view he did not want, the open vents now sit in his periphery, avoiding them he shifts trying to get comfortable and wondering if he should just break free and wing it, something that has worked for him in the past. 

Then something hits him, something that could better his situation in one regard but will certainly screw him over as a whole. ‘My pack.’ The Seegson survival pack granted to him on arrival, forgetting that he had left it in a cell back in the correctional unit 4 prior to entering the ventilation system. Realising only now that if he could get to it, he can use the supplies within to survive for a while, maybe long enough to find a way off Fury. This will involve one of two things, each one difficult in their own way, either by going through the two heavily armed marines posted outside the room, or by slipping back up into the ducts with that. ‘Thing…’ Or more. ‘Things.’ Up there too, William locks up with indecision. ‘Shit.’ Staying down here as uncomfortable as it is at least has marines on standby, a little security in case of more. 'Creepy crawlies.'

(The YY failed his rolls to convince the marine about the facehugger he saw attack Billy, unlucky for him. Now though, what do you guys think, should he try to escape? Would he at this point with what he has seen? Or would he stay put. Again hope you're enjoying the series, more to follow and thank you for reading.)
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
 
wendal
Topic Author
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon 04 Nov 2019, 23:51

Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Sat 21 Mar 2020, 05:50

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 

With all the “Crashing.” And. “Banging.” Still going on beneath Turock's very boot heels, every so often the metal grate below bumps up during one of these “Bangs.” Or “Crashes.” The marines previous assessment as to whether the convict had ran into tighter quarters than he perhaps first expected, has pretty much been proven correct and something he himself is glad he took no part in, tight metal and concrete spaces, wires of all shapes and sizes, piping of the same with whatever else is stuffed down there to clog the space up like a bloated artery. Not exactly this marine's idea of a pleasant hunt, even if tracking him like he’s been doing above ground has pretty much come to a stop. Barely having made any distance along since radioing in with the Corporal, who should be here very soon that much he knew, he did not need to check the time on that. Glancing back at the Hexo-Junction. The primary hub to the correctional units is ‘Frustratingly.’ Still visible behind the marine and his canine companion, a constant reminder of the distance separating both areas. Ahead of them both, winds the long, overly lit passage that leads all the way back to the compound, the double wide archway and chunky doors,  each currently out of sight thanks to the sharp curve this corridor takes, the wall on his right hand side constantly obscuring the view further along, one must walk far enough down it, roughly to about the midway point before it then straightens out again. 
The dog. “Whines.” Catching his attention and he looks down, it looks up and “Whines.” Again.

“What?” Trying his best to read the beast, its body language at least and his first thought that comes of this is. ‘Hungry?’ “You want something to eat?” Turock asks and before he can say another word he gets his reply.
A “Woof.” Followed by another. “Woof.” The dog moves in, the intense wagging of its stub for a tail sends it back half into a wobble, the marine raises one hand, one finger comes up and the dog sits and waits.
“Right…” Slinging the motion tracker. ‘He is not going anywhere anytime soon.’ “Lets see what we got here shall we.” The marine says reaching into his pouch and retrieving a thick protein bar, unwrapping it, the rustle loudly echoes out until he finishes and jams said wrapper into another pocket entirely. Giving it a sniff. ‘Beef.’ Turock is not a fan of the ‘Pu bars.’ The junk they put in just to make them heat resistant and long lasting. ‘Is nasty.’ No matter how many times the little. ‘New recipe.’ Sign is updated on the pack in bright, bold letters. Couldn’t be more perfect for his new friend though.

Passing it straight to the dog and it is gone in seconds, even without any teeth, impressive jaw muscles and slobber make quick work of it, maybe a couple of gummy chomps before it tosses its head back like a serpent and swallows the chunks whole, once finished the dog comes up on all fours and forward, thinking its about to ask for more, or jump up as it looks poised to do so, he soon realises the animal just wants to thank him for its treat.
“No problem…” Scratching the top of its head before reaching for his water canteen. “I know how dry those things can be.” Turock says tilting it towards the dog, water flicks out of the top now that the cap is free, crouching he then proceeds to cup one hand and pour as best he can allowing the animal to lap it up from his palm, the entire process is as messy as the first time, as the last he finishes standing, returning and twisting the cap tight, the creature wants to thank him again. “No problem.” Giving it a pat.

Feeling like he could do with some fuel in his own tank, knowing he has a little time on his hands, Turock has been running on empty since midday yesterday. So for a third time he reaches about for something on his person, another pouch located in another place, fingers pulling out a shot glass sized metal cylinder, another poultice of his and his ways. Twisting the top, it slides away revealing a yellow paste within. With a finger he scoops some out and sticks it into his mouth, a piled finger tip that dissolves on contact with the saliva build up he had already prepared for this moment. A mouthful of bitter sweet but packed with more protein than the standard issue bar the dog just ate and stacked with a variety of vitamins too. As he moves it towards his mouth he is stopped with another, this time louder. “Whine!” Looking back down at the dog, the dog looking at his hand, Turock then looks back at the paste. 
“You want some of this too?”
“Woof.” The dog answers and he obliges, scooping out another finger full he crouches offering it to the dog, the animal enthusiastically, without sniffing moves forward and starts licking away.
“How's that?” The dog pauses and takes a step back, then its body locks up. “What is it?” Noticing the sharp change in its demeanour, the dog's mouth opens, gums wide, the animal arches its body together and shakes before opening its toothless jaw once more.
“Cough.” The canine chokes, slobber hurtling out of its throat. “C..Cack.” Whatever the hell kind of sound that was, the dog. “Chokes.” Again, this time what follows is a series of heavy dry “Wrenches.” And. “Heaves.” Turock having to stand as it moves closer, looking worried with a “Splutter.” And pint of slobber, what has been ailing the beast reveals itself with a.
“Splat…” A mixture of yellow tinged bile and drool hits the floor and sits there in front of the canine.
“Woof.” The dog appears to be back to normal, the wag of its tail, the little stubs motion again sending its hind quarters into a wobble. 
 
“Really… So the Pu bar gets the pass and my protein/vitamin mix gets…” Looking down at the steaming pool of drool it just threw up, some of it slipping between the metal plated floor. “That.” Switching hands quickly, he uses his undoglicked finger to finish what he started and the dog interrupted which he does, returning the now empty metal cylinder to another pocket. “None of the others like it either.” No matter what he tries to add to it, no one other than him seems to be able to keep it down. ‘Even animals it would seem.’ “But then I don't think any marine likes a Pu bar.” Turock's words interrupted by the loud.
“Bump…” “Crash.” And. “OW!” That comes up from below, then silence for a moment, and “Bang.” All of this happening a few feet ahead of him now, the convict beneath as he would have guessed has not gotten far, reinforcing again his choice to not follow him in, redrawing his motion tracker Turock takes the few steps forward until he is above the YY.

“Ping.” He knew the sound meant. ‘Friendly incoming.’ The sound bringing the thought, his Corporal's IFF beacon has entered the motion trackers range triggering the alert, a quick look down at the display confirms what he knew, an allied dot coming toward his position from up ahead and askew, moving nice and swift, as ever whenever Plissken's boots hit the ground. Again Turock sort of feels sorry for the convict still scrambling around beneath him, unable to comprehend what’s coming.  
“Er guy.” Turock says looking down, trying to offer a mercy he may not deserve, especially if he turns out to be the one responsible for recent events, the marine tries to toss his words into any one of the gaps below so he can follow with the. ‘Your times almost up.’ To come along freely anyway… And  nothing, no reply even though the “Banging.” And “Crashing.” Continues.
“Woof.” The dog barks, Turock looks at the tracker and realising that they are no longer above him, the marine moves to the correct position and is followed closely by the dog, then they move on, ahead of the YY, to the next grated floor panel and he crouches down in front of it and waits, the dog joining his side. As the convicts tag below lines up with his own he looks down through the grates. 

‘There.’ Awkwardly spotting Billy head first, bar code not visible, the YY is covered in all sorts of grime and grease. “Me again.” Turock says cupping his mouth in an attempt to send each of  the words down to him. Billy stops, hearing them land around him, surrounding him in the tight space, he twists in the small pipe he has found himself in until he is facing upright, locking eyes with the marines own between one thin metal grate. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.” Turock says pausing, glancing at the dog. “But I really need to have a chat.” Returning to look down. ‘At least he is listening.’ This time. “We’ve had a few incidents and…” The marines attempts at communication with the man are cut off with the eye contact, the convict ignores him and shuffles up, wriggling like a worm seemingly stuck at first.
“Grunting.” “Groaning.” Before he jolts up a little more, squeezing his shoulders free, top half popping out in the tiny section below. Straining, more. “Grunting.” Follows, the YY brings both of his arms up and out before reaching for the next hand hold, with that he begins to pull his body further along the tight pipe.

“I don’t…” Billy's chest is compressed making it difficult to speak. “Give a fuck mate…” The convict pulls and slides his top half into the next segment. “Ahhh…” Taking in the extra air that the tight space earlier would not allow, before continuing on. “Is that... Dog still with you?” Wiping his face Billy looks up, the man appears exhausted as he clutches his chest short of breath.
“Affirmative.” Turock replies, turning back to the dog, arm already moving until his hand comes to rest on its head, lice flutter about its fur and he gives it a scratch where his fingers land regardless, the dog leans into it, appreciating the relief its own lack of claws cannot provide. “You don’t like dogs?” Turock asks down, again he turns to look at the dog beside him, this time shrugging at the canine. 

“I Fucking did…” Billy spits trying to mask the fear behind his speech with the only other emotion he has ever had a fickle grasp on. ‘Anger!’ Turock however hears both lacing each word. “..... Bu.  “ And.... SHIT!" The YYs attempts to put to words what he has seen gets as confused in his throat as the horrific events are in his head.
“Woof.” The dog barks and Billy freezes for a moment before exploding into motion. “Woof.” The animal moves, sniffing at the grate. ‘Senses something is off with this guy?’ “You and me both.” Turock says returning his confused gaze to the dog. ‘Drugs?’ Company amenities, something the two Corporals knew would cause trouble, is in fact. ‘Causing trouble perhaps?’ “Possibility...” The marine says and shrugs again. “No idea. Cat person?” With another shrug, this one offered the dog's way.
“Woof.” It barks back then. “Pants.” Continuously, the animal's ears twitch, then it moves past Turock a few feet ahead, sniffing the air and tilting its head confused, the canine looks back at him, its confusion clear. 
‘Somethings coming.’ With that thought a figure appears in the distance, the Corporal has arrived, his pace a light trot. “I tried friend.” Turock says standing as Plissken gets closer.

“Woof.” The dog barks at the inbound marine before rethinking its decisions in life with a “Whine.” Stub of a tail tucked between its legs the animal moves quickly behind Turock for protection. “It’s okay boy, he’s on our side.” ‘Does the boss even like dogs? Does he like anything?’ Are the half kiowas thoughts as his team leader approaches, glancing at the tracker the YY below has moved about several inches along and no more.
“Boss.” Turock nods and it is returned in kind only without words, Plissken nods and comes to a stop in front of him, pulse rifle slung at his back, arms crossed.The old marine briefly glancing at the dog who hides behind Turocks legs, it fails to meet his gaze at all. 

The Corporal. ‘Clearly not amused.’ Turock could tell straight off the bat, he knew it was in part to the fact that their unit is being used by the company for things like this, Ops other than protection.
"Where is he now?" Plissken asks.
Turock points down, looking at the tracker he moves his finger until he’s pointing to where the display says he is. ‘Right there.’ Plissken looks at the marine in front of him with his one eye, almost sarcastically asking him. ‘Are you sure?’ Just with that one look, before the Corporal breaks contact and moves to standing above where the convict should be. Plissken then turns around to face Turock before taking several steps back. Whipping out a cutting torch and crouching, sparks begin to fly beneath him. 

“Hey?” Billy’s voice comes up above the sound of the cutting torch. “What’s... What’s going on up there…” Knowing it can’t be good. Plissken covers his good eye, already knowing the shape he wants and cuts it out. A small square almost loose from the metal grate of the floor, hanging on by a thread, Plissken stands putting the torch away and stamps down hard, the alloy gives and the section falls in “Clanging.” Off other metals as it falls down below landing with another... “Clang!”  
“Come on you.” Turock says and the dog follows him, the marine moves back toward the Hexo-Junction. “I know what comes next.” Turning around to see the Corporal crouched once more over the hole with what comes next in one hand.

‘G-2 Electro-Shock grenade.’ Is what comes next, incentive of the best kind. With a twist the grenade "Clicks." Now switched from its default bouncing betty mode, to the usual throw and forget. 
“Ball buster in the hole.” Plissken says sounding almost bored, a thumb activates the device and he drops it into the square gap casually and steps back until he knows he is clear, then crouching down he braces for the next couple of seconds, retrieving a ciggerette.
‘One.’ ‘Two.’ ‘Three.' 'Four..’ Turock counts.
The grenade goes off underneath them. “BOOOM!!!!! CRACKLE!!! SNAP!!! POP!!” And for a moment, there is a thunderstorm and blazing white light show, electricity shoots up from metal grates below, arcing towards, streching across all metals around, mostly pipes. The YY is caught right in the middle of this and he screams in agony as a direct result.
“AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!” Billy shrieks as the dance of lightning subsides, his central nervous system overloaded, spasms sending his head banging off everything, left shaking, muscles aching. “Wh… ARR…. TH…. T” The YY unable to form words, the combined shock and muscle contractions obliterating any focus he had left, dazed, confused and frazzled. “Cough.” “Cough.” “FUU…. UUCK!” His cries seething with pain and rage, quelled only by his current incapacitated condition. A Cloud of smoke, dust debris kicked up in the shock wave from below tries to obscure the two marines from one another, not enough though and Turock spots his que opposite with a gesture from Plissken.
“USCMC… COME OUT NOW OR WE DROP ANOTHER!” Turock shouts, wondering whether the guy will take another hit. 'Most give up after two.' Billy beneath them barely registers any of what the marine had said, instead he grips his chest with both hands, a new pain starts, one born there, one of fiery brimstone, threatening to regurgitate hot coals
“Bleep.” Both marines hear the motion tracker sound. ‘Movement.’
“Sissy.” Plissken says, the cigarette in his mouth lit and he blows smoke into the cloud of smoke in front of him. 

‘Looks like he’s giving in after one.’ Turock thinks looking down at the tracker. ‘Wait… What?’
“Bleep.” The tracker sounds again.
‘One, two, three, four for the dog and five? Five tags.’
“Bleep.” A new one has appeared out of nowhere, far to the east and is moving incredibly fast, too fast, watching it pick up speed changing directions rapidly, seemingly prancing around the display as it keeps moving towards their location at high speed.
“Boss...” Turock says, wondering now if it’s an error or not. “That’s not his tag, got him on mute… We’ve got incoming with something else and its fast.” Turock says and Plissken walks through the minor cloud separating them, recognising his lance Corporal's confusion, something that is unusual and so gets his attention more often, joining his side his one eye spies the display and sure enough, there is a rapidly moving target coming this way. 
"Huh." Plissken says blowing smoke,

(Hey guys hope everyone is staying safe etc. As always thank you for reading.)
Last edited by wendal on Mon 13 Apr 2020, 23:13, edited 1 time in total.
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
 
wendal
Topic Author
Posts: 128
Joined: Mon 04 Nov 2019, 23:51

Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Thu 26 Mar 2020, 02:31

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 
 
‘FREEDOM! The concept on fire inside him, so much that it hurts, a constant heat driving every motion forward, even if he constantly feels like he’s running backwards into it… With no idea how he had escaped, how he had torn that rock hard crystallised shit off his face, slipped free of chitinous claws and dived behind an old automatic door, the emergency button blazing red behind the tiny plate of easily shatterable glass, one punch. Bleep! And the door seals shut, coming down in an instant, cutting the horror off and shutting it out, a lightning bolt of panic as it leaps towards him, talons outstretched... Then it’s gone… That freedom a little closer… BOOM… BOOM… BOOM... The door Dents with the last, throwing his hands off the surface and staggering him backwards. BOOM… Dent. BOOM... Another threatens that freedom of his… BOOM… Dent. The thick alloy warps from the force of the beast colliding with the other side. BOOM… Dent. Then nothing, silence… For a heartbeat, no more.. BOOM! Harder, heavier and more spiteful than the last, the dent growing even larger. BOOM… Dent. Another BOOM then nothing, this time silence from that side follows, broken only by a heavy breathing on this side, his own, each hyperventilating breath spat out at a variety of rapid rates. Taking a single step back, his heel hits the floor and his ears are slapped with a wet Hisssss, slipping down from somewhere behind and coiling around him, followed on by a very familiar drip, drip dripping sound that sets his teeth on edge and makes his blood run cold, nostalgically so.’ 

‘Flipping on the spot arms raised in defence, greeted by a void of nothing, only darkness with no light, not even the one he just had, the torch on his head is gone and his freedom evaporates with it. His insides scramble in a panic, turning back toward the LED bulb, the one still buzzing above the door he just came through, the only light source present is now blazing behind him. Turning to nothing... No light, no door, more darkness, a step forward and he runs into something solid, a wall in the black. Trapped! Knees fall weak, arms go heavy, both palms dripping and sweaty, each washes the surface in circles searching for something, anything, nothing in his hands but flat. Another Hisssss slips out of the dark, closer now too, somewhere behind him, turning once more so that the wall is at his back, facing the black it charges and rushes through him like wind, a lake of shattered ice forcing him back, pinned, pressed up against the wall, arms sliding up around his body all sluggish and slow, wrapped tightly, embracing himself until they lock in place, he tries to run, both legs are locked too. He tries to scream… ARRRRGGGHHHH! But it is muffled and in his head... Mouth sealed shut, a gag of black resin… FREEDOM! EXTINGUISHED! With a HISSSSSS! 

“Argh!” Slowly slides out of the convict's throat as he wakes, breath taken, once snatched, now returns in full with a heavy inhale, instead of any relief however, the air that hits his lungs is hot, like swallowing embers and ash snapping him too. “Cough.” “Cough.” “Splutter.” Choking on the burn with the exhale out. “Panting.” Head sitting heavy, hung low, the back of his skull aches, the throb making his mind fuzzy. Each eye struggles to peel open and only one of them does, the other stays stuck, the eyelid glued shut, effectively cutting his field of view in half, everything on his right is obscured. Panic as the only light source of any kind is a single focused beam coming at him from the right, blinding his newborn vision from the one angle he cannot see. Confused, mind blankly trying to figure out. ‘What the fuck?’ Is happening. “Where…” He mutters. ‘Am I?’ He thinks. The YY struggles to lift his head, which feels odd because he is trying to move his whole body, he can't, wrapped up tight, both arms in fact are tucked up above his chest, forced to hug himself, made tighter with gravity's pull on him constantly, both feet totally off of the ground, all of him hanging awkwardly forward. 

The YY struggles shifting around on the spot, held in place by something rock solid, black, slimy, slick and hard all at once. Only his head is free, with his left eye available to see. The same ‘Shit’ on the wall at the end of the beam of light has him pinned to another. ‘Wait…’ Mind clearing a little with the recognition. ‘The same shit…. Talons.’ Jamming it over his face before he blacked out, it’s all over the wall, the only reason he knows it is one, is due to the single bit of pipe poking out, a distinctive yellow with orange bands. Its surface as of yet is untouched by the black chitinous substance that covers everything else and has his entire body cocooned against the wall. ‘The space beast!’ The notion hits him harder than the monster had during their encounter and he freaks at the thought. “HELP!” The convict yells, before he can do it again he gets a reply, a burst of steam from the left like a slap to the face, hotter than the air already is and it drowns out his cry for aid. Dropping his head to avoid the rest of it, once it’s over he opens his eye once more, stretched wider when it falls onto what is waiting below, something he had missed when he first woke. Head hovering directly over a brownish, blackish leathery object, slimey and slick, wet dripping slowly down and around its entire surface. “SHIIIIIT!” Not recognising it for what it is or what it could be, not thinking about that at all, in fact. ‘To not be where he is right now.’ Is all that's going on up stairs

‘What is it?’ Staring at the large leathery bulb, a crudely defined seal on top, almost 'lips' pursed and waiting, it squirms, more wet drips as he begins to struggle.  “HELP!” He shouts looking away and is answered with another blast of steam from the left, this time though it’s higher up. The super heated air hitting the only pipe free of the substance, steam bellowing down around him, the hot air slightly jellifying the goo over his eye and it opens, lashes separating in sticky strands revealing the other side of the room to him in full and he does not like what he sees. More of the black resin, sliming and slick, thickly it coats the floor and walls. The light source he recognises as his head mount, the torch on the other side of the room, then he spots another leathery object, on its own in the corner, black spots around its base and is slightly larger than the one that is beneath his face. 

‘Open!’ Looking at the top, the lips have flowered into four sections but from the angle he is hanging at, he cannot see inside the thing. ‘Thank god.’ A single thought before screaming for help and breaking free, he gets neither option, instead the pursed lips on top of the thing below him roll back slowly, flowering into four sections like the other one, this one however he can see inside, wishing he couldn’t, the horror beneath is full, inside sits the colour of fresh pink flesh, what sits within moves. “Shlop.” Meat, sliding into itself, like chicken skin separated from the bone in a vacuum, fleshy curtain sucked down, back and gone revealing two sets of bony, elongated fingers. ‘Skeleton hands?’ “What…” The digits wriggle and whatever is inside launches. “AH……..” And black, his breath snatched from him for the second time today, surrounded in total darkness, a ribbed noose coils around his throat, face smothered. Something thick, moving like a snake enters his mouth, only slimier, like a naked extra jellied eel, forcing its way passed his tongue and right down the back of his throat, the gag reflex kicks in and his body wrenches, muscles contract but the thing in his throat flexes back before continuing on, sliming all the way down into his stomach.

(A Little rushed this evening but I’ll go over it, hope everyone is staying safe and are healthy etc. So a character face hugged, an npc nice!, soon there will be two aliens out and about with a gestating queen, looking good, as always thank you for reading, more to come next week.’
Last edited by wendal on Fri 03 Apr 2020, 19:58, edited 1 time in total.
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wendal
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Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Wed 01 Apr 2020, 01:36

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 

A long and silent pilgrimage throughout the compound, it has taken them deep and to the far east. A dozen glowing red orbs bobbing along in the black, like a school of deep sea creatures wading through darkness. Multiple pairs of crimson retinas, each belonging to a single working Joe, their artificial perception scanning, analysing and storing all of the data around them, even in the total darkness of the ventilation system. The synthetics silently march onward, moving in single file, at a steady sluggish pace towards the same objective. ‘The last known location of Canine Unit-3.’ The last directive dictated to them by the AI central control core, orders that supersede all prior directives until this one is complete and they are closing in on the objective now. Without a word shared between them they continue trudging along, blasted on occasion by hot steam from any and all angles, unflinching they move through these super heated clouds and under the rainfall of dripping pipework. The synthetic at the front turns left and is followed by the others, the passage no different in appearance, the same leaking pipes and sudden bursts of steam all around them, unlike the others however this one continues on a little longer than the last. Another left, following the way points already set out and the one just passed is the second from last. ‘Work-Crew-D-2 arriving at destination.’ 

Further along the passage the synthetic leading the unit slows as its Heads Up Display, HUD, tags something on the floor, faint at first, two sets of tracks. ‘Blood.’  Scanned, the first set of tracks become more solid as the synth continues towards the source stepped into then transferred as these bloody prints, all of them coming this way and the opposite direction the Joe's are currently heading, a red bread crumb trail on a path they are already on. ‘Shoe Print. Size-10. YY Chromosome Inmate. Seegson work boot. Confirmed.’ The first and largest set, obvious boot prints analysed, recognised, data stored. ‘Quadruped. Canine?..... Size... Inconclusive.’ The second set of prints beside the first analysed, possibly recognised with the data stored. 
The information passes along the hive mind of working Joe's, the last of them stopping at the start of the blood trail and the rest continue on, left behind the lone synthetic begins to investigate the prints in further detail. 

The footprints and tracks picked up further back, they lead all the way to this exact spot. ‘Canine Unit-3. Target Located.’ The animal lies disembowelled in front of the opening on the right. ‘3’ Shaved into the dog's side. ‘Canine Unit-3. Deceased…’ Glaringly obvious. ‘Investigating.’ Moving towards the organs splashed out of the dog's hollow chest cavity. Hot air bellows out of the room in waves washing over it all, making sure the mess stays fresh. None of this gets their attention. The ‘Foreign Substance...’ Scanning and analysing the thick, slick and varied shades of the darkened translucent substance that is currently coating the floor leading into the opening. This gets their attention and the synth in the lead stops. ‘Unidentified….’ Taking a step forward. “Crunch.” The black resin. “Crackles.” Underneath the working Joe's boot. “Crunch.” Sole coming up, some of it stuck resin stretching like gum. Moving towards the opening, the Joe scans even more of the substance that surrounds the entryway and leads inside. Only the pipework directly above is free from any of the growth, the distinctive yellow with orange bands a sharp contrast to the others, each pipe leading into the space exudes a serious amount of heat, seemingly melting substance, forcing constant streams of slime dripping down around the remains of the animal, forming a group of small slick stalagmites. The hot air within the chamber combined with consecutive blasts of steam inside is currently obscuring the synthetics vision. The Joe's artificial audio systems, both ears pick up on something between the next cloud of steam and rattling pipes.
“Hh.. Hhhhelp… Mmmeeeee…” The moan. ‘Analysed. Adult Male. YY? Distressed.’ “Hhhhhhelp…….” Another slides out of the entryway, the ‘me’ drowned out by more steam. 

(A little short, hopefully sweet, just tying some knots before things really start to go down.)
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wendal
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Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Sat 04 Apr 2020, 02:52

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05.

‘Nothing but black, nostalgically so, finding himself in such a place again, more comfortable than the last time, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Then the blind fold slips low, down past one eye, his left eye, everything on the right is obscured. Looking up, both hands are still handcuffed to the metal bedpost above, restrained, like he liked. Spotting the red head, fluorescent hair, powder pale skin, all of which he could no longer see, even the cuts and bruises he liked a little too much, the reason being, she is no longer naked. Confused, there time wasn't up yet and he always paid her extra, especially because he knew how rough he could be, maybe a little too much but something inside him is just never satiated with a little of anything, anger boils over to back it all up making a mess of pretty much everything in his life. Damn It’s so hot in here, the air con must be jacked right up, like a sauna without the steam, he looks around for the unit, making his vision a little blurry, sweat dripping from his own nudity, sheets long since damp from there last session now get damper, wetter, slick, slimy beneath him. Those ridiculous large tits attached to that surgically proportioned frame, all of it is now hidden beneath the same long, tightly fitting dress she had arrived in. The WHAT? And the FUCKS? Follow and all of them are ignored.’

‘Struggling, rattling the cuffs violently and realising only now that his legs are bound also, bed sheets strapping each to a separate bed post, feels weird now almost solid. She moves and his eyes follow each and every delicate foot step, even now with all this she is beyond beautiful, elegant… A TOTAL FUCKING BITCH! The woman arrives on the other side of the room, the painting on the wall, of an orb, oval… Egg shaped thingy? Nothing much to it, a shitty canvas picked up in some flea market for this one purpose, to cover the wall safe… Now it's missing and the safe is open, his life's work lying inside. A single beam of light from the right hits the gold bar within, rolls of bank notes have already spilled out onto the floor, credits, chips and chits, his nest egg accumulated doing shit dodgy jobs, for shit dodgy people throughout the galaxy, the fruits of that labour right out in the open? This is how he was going to buy his freedom from the firm.’ 

‘No one, not even this woman so close to him should know about its existence, because he never told her, he only told... Knock! Knock! Knock! Breaks the thoughts coming from the door on the right, expecting her to move to open it, she does not, instead she moves over to him, two delicate fingers pulling the blindfold down. Then she moves to the door and opens it up, another redhead enters. The wife, equally as beautiful, elegant and scarred from years of constant physical and mental abuse as the other, trying to speak he gags, something already jammed into his mouth and down his throat to prevent him from doing just that.This has all been one big set up from the get go, hindsight hurting more than the utter betrayal, burning inside his chest, a fire born there…. The revelation of what and why will follow from both women scorned…. But this is different, neither one of them speaks to him, instead things darken around them all, shadows stretching to wicked points, looming all around as the pair giggle and HISSSSS, each of their skin blackens and tightens around there frames, bio mechanical forms and claws descending upon him as one, face smothered by it. The gag in his mouth comes alive, writhing along its length and he chokes on it, body wrenching hard, chest tensing violently, breath snatched away by this wriggling writhing thing. Slowly at first it moves, feeling the lump leave his swollen gut as it slimes its way back up his throat and out of his mouth, the scream behind it follows and is silent...  Nothing but black, cocooned in its depths, silence now wrapping him tight, he cannot speak, boiling hot air a constant breath… Blasts of heat… Steam?’ 

Both eyes slowly slime open as he wakes up from one nightmare, into another entirely. With only a single beam of bright light coming at him from the right, his breath, for a second time snatched from his lungs, returns in full with a heavy inhale. “Cough.” Choking on the super heated air around him, a throat already sore, hurts so much more. Beneath his face lies a large leathery bulb, slimey and slick, vaguely he recognises it, from another nightmare perhaps, four sections on top of the object. ‘Lips?’ All facing him. ‘Open?’ The inside of it revealed in full directly below his head. ‘Empty?’ Nothing is inside it, trying to remember why that should be a good thing, the ground around it is smothered in lumpy black. ‘Darkness? Shadow?’ “Argh…” Blasts of hot air do nothing to shrug the daze, just adding to this painful haze, another. “Argh….” A moan again slowly slides, this time painfully out of the convict's throat, “A….a...aa….” The YY utters, head failing to lift at all, held low, chin tucked into his chest, sinking into it in fact, his breastplate, the bone beneath flesh feeling eerily soft, able to feel every single heartbeat no matter how shallow. A nasty rumble, one not from his stomach but a little. ‘Higher?’ Not feeling good about his current situation at all. ‘Not butterflies….’ Butterfly, one the size of an american football, its prior cocoon still writhing inside his gut while the creature itself flutters up into his chest, a sickly sensation. Made worse when he feels the movement under his chin, bone soft like cartilage, rocking his head around gently, this the only movement he is allowed, his entire body cocooned to the wall, arms tucked up high, well above his chest and wrapped around tight. A ‘Black?’ Slimy, slick and hard substance surrounding him stretches down and around the egg, all over the floor that he can see, then he follows the beam of light to the wall and it’s the same. ‘Deja vu….’ 

Mind struck with the thoughts of ‘Monsters!’ The YY panics, struggling in his cocoon, if that, too weak, all he is able to do is lift his head and all that does is reveal more of the chamber to him, this time spotting another leathery bulb in the corner, this one larger than the one beneath him, black spots dot around its base, it too is. ‘Open?’ Unable to see inside this one, no matter how he tries to lift his head. ‘....Space Beast!...’ ‘The fucking Space Beast!’ Panic. Fear and the fact that he should probably be dead, all crash lands into his lap like a ‘Red head.’ Enough of what is actually happening to him comes back in terrifying shreds of bio mechanical horror, quite literally taking his breath away, again. Stomach doing flip flops and he opens his mouth to scream. “Ahhhh…..” “Cough.” “Cough.” “Cough.” The convict chokes on the attempt. Wanting to gag, nothing, mouth filling with saliva on reflex and opening a few times just in case, he spits and fails to do that, dribble makes it down his chin rolling over the slime on his face and is boiled off with the next jet of steam from the left. Exhausted, mind reeling. ‘So hungry…’ Between loud gusts of steam, rattling pipes and constant dripping from above, something else adds itself to the ambience, another constant among the rest. Faint at first, increasing as it appears to be getting closer and at a steady pace. ‘Coming from over?’ Straining to lift his head, the sound is coming from behind the beam of light illuminating the horror surrounding him. ‘Suffocating.’ 

Behind the light sits darkness, the noise steadily growing among the others, dull. “Thuds.” Ever closer. The YY peers into the canvas of black beyond and two glowing red orbs streak into view and he freaks. ‘The beast has returned!’ His only thought, heart hitting so hard that it triggers another tummy rumble above it, this one hurts. “Ahhhh..hhh..” Is all he manages as the tremor settles. “Hh.. Hhhhelp… Mmmeeeee…” The YY moans, it’s all he can do, just cry like this in distress, never has he ever felt so helpless, so trapped and doing hard time in some of the worst places in the galaxies does not help, if anything he wishes he was back there, his odds at survival have clearly always been against him on ‘Fury 161.’ All along. “Hhhhhhelp…….” Another plea slides out of his mouth, the ‘Me.’ Drowned out by a blast of steam. ‘Eyes of a demon…. A dragon?’ They move closer, towards the beam of light, towards him, wanting to close his eyes. ‘Wont shut it out.’ Forced to finally face this thing head on, instead of a monster. ‘Smooth dome shaped head, drooling jaws.’ A ‘Man?’ Steps into the light, pale white skin, glowing red LEDs for eyes. ‘Not a man?’ Slowly recognising the working Joe synthetic looking him up and down, half his Seegson overalls in the light. Spotting more of the red orbs behind this one, the YY remembers those synths assigned to him, they said they would return and they have. ‘Thank fuck.’ Shaking at the faint whiff of ‘Freedom!’ “Help....” The YY struggles to say to the Joe. “Me…”  But eventually does, the synth does nothing as others just like it join him and the YY then spread out, none of them take any notice of the convict cocooned to the wall other than the first of them that entered the chamber, the android just stands there staring at him. “What the… What the fuck are….” The convict says struggling through it. “Are you looking at?…” ‘HELP ME!’ Eyes screaming the plea. Nothing, the others continue to look around further.

“XX121. Confirmed. Awaiting ARTEMIS.” The working Joe in front of him says, mouth moving but none of the other features, the pale rubber skin, face void of emotion.
‘What?’ “W… What?’ The YY asks, unable to even remember what it just said.
“Please, calm down. You are becoming hysterical.” The Joe replies.
‘Hysterical?…’ “Fuck… You..” ‘HELP!’ The YY would spit but his mouth is so dry.
“Unwarranted.” The Joe says. 
“Please…”
“Awaiting ARTEMIS.” The Joe says.
“Who… The…. Fuck… Is Artemis?” The YY finally says.
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wendal
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Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Fri 10 Apr 2020, 01:23

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 

Billy “Coughs.” Choking on the air that smells like burnt hair around him, very much his own filling the tight confines of the floor space, a place he thought he had escaped into. A choice he would currently be regretting right about now, that’s if he could pull a proper thought together, he cannot. The YY chromo lies crippled from the white hot lightning bolt that passed through every inch of his body only moments ago, the suffering itself kick starting another pain, the other pain that has followed him only recently. Twitching in agony at the ball of expanding razor blades roiling around in his chest, it grows with each heartbeat, tearing his insides apart. “Argh!” Clutching his breast. ‘Need to get away… Escape. Flee!’ Scattered, almost intrusive thoughts of his safety flash in his mind, nerves and muscles spasm and quake throughout his entire body, one violent shake sends his head forward more than back. “Dong!” Smashing into one of the many pipes, his vision tremors with the blow but he does not feel a thing, his pain threshold already reached and blocked by another. ‘Sweat.’ Slowly trickling, that single droplet and tickle almost down his face, wiping before the salt sting gets into his eyes. ’Blood.’ Spotting the red smeared across the back of his hand. “... Ow….” Billy mutters aloud, head falling back with a “Thud.” Vision sent into more of a blur. ‘..Ow.’ Said in his head, mouth opening and nothing comes out even though it feels like he should be spewing flames with each breath.

“Bleep.” The motion tracker in Turock’s hands sounds, eyeing the display, he watches as the fifth and as of yet unidentified blip that appeared is still pretty much making a beeline toward their current position. Right toward the four identified blips, one of which belongs to him, the dog, the con beneath them and his Corporal, Plissken. 
“Bleep.” Blowing smoke the Corporal's only eye falls down past his fellows legs and toward the canine, trying to hide behind them and failing miserably.
“Canine?” Plissken opposite asks, tossing the thought the Lance Corporal way, he stubs his cigarette out on his armour and flicks the butt back towards and right into the square hole he cut out of the floor. 
“Bleep.” Turock watches how quickly the tag is moving, at times it is all over the place only to then freeze, vanish and reappear seconds later before continuing towards them. Looking at the dog. “Too fast?” Turock says, sounding confused because he is at this point and Plissken takes note, the only thing that takes the marines attention away from the blip is the battery gauge, another bar drained from the maximum, with only two now remaining. 
“Bleep.” Tap. ‘Mute.’ Turock silences the alert. Plissken brings one hand up, a single finger twirl, not asking if its a false positive, he knew his Corporal is more than capable with a tracker and so it hasn’t even crossed his mind, instead pointing more towards the structure of the facility itself. 
“Could be.” Turock replies, the pair always on the same wavelength, knowing how screwed up their original comms equipment was on arrival and still is, totally useless in fact. ‘So it’s possible.’ The facility itself could cause a false positive or two but one moving seemingly with a mind of its own. ‘No…’ Reaching behind himself and with his free hand he loosens is weapon strap on instinct, slowly bringing the weapon round to his front. Plissken moves back and away, leaving Turock to it. The marine standing in the Hexo-Junction with the dog, who now comes out from behind him. The pair facing ‘East.’ The tunnel leading that way. ‘Sort of.’ Is one of the few not lit by electric lamps all the way down its length, instead his shoulder mounted HI-Beam fills the corridor as far as it will allow. Beyond that sits darkness, where he would like to be right now, feeling exposed in the wide open space of the junction, even with the Corporal on his six.

Billy’s chest presses against pipes, rising and falling in the cramped space, struggling to breath through the painfully sharp peak, like a single shard of inches thick glass, slowly slipping through the whole of his chest. “Ahhhhh…..” With an exhale his suffering begins to fade faster than it arrived, as it has done since these involuntary heart traumas, that beat so violently above his own began. Looking up, eyes barely able to see through the smoke and blur they try to focus. “Thud.” Thud.” “Thud.” Bits of grit spill between the grated metal floor, behind it more “Thudding.” Footfalls of heavy boots belonging to one of the marines above. 
‘Eyes!’ The YY would flinch spotting them staring right back at him but he still can’t move. “A….a..” Or speak, even as his mind starts to clear. ‘Fuck….’ Not that it gets very far with any useful thoughts. Then he is blinded by an explosion of sparks, they rain down into his face and all he can do is flinch from the heat, hand with three fingers missing coming up in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the volley of tiny sparkles. The same sound of the cutting torch from above fills the space around him, deafening now that it’s right on top of him and for the moment a constant assault on both ear drums. Then silence… Some thumbling, blinking through the multiple glares to his vision then the alloy above “Wails!” The only part of the metal grate still attached bends up on itself opening like a tin can, revealing most of Billy’s top half, forehead bleeding a little, but the rest of him is covered in dried blood, too much for it to be from his head. The cons hand comes up and Plissken notices the missing three fingers, cleanly cut, wounds struggling to heal, even that however does not account for the amount of dark stains splashed up his front. 
“Out.” Plissken demands tossing a thumb over his shoulder, a single gesture to back the one word command followed by a silent other more violent threat. The ‘G-2 Electro-Shock grenade held in his other hand, tossed up and snatched out of the air with his one eye still looking down on Billy.   

“Woof!” The Dog barks, ears twitching, Turock turns his head, the tag close, round the corner, even though the tunnel ahead is completely straight. ‘Above? Below?’ It’s coming at them from either one of those angles. ‘Makes sense.’ With all the stopping, starting and hopping all over the trackers display before its eventual arrival up ahead. ‘Which one?’ Glancing at the dog for a possible giveaway.
“Growling.” The animal beside him steps forward slowly, looking down as the tag vanishes. ‘Stopped moving.’ Looking up, it should be within range of his HI-Beam and just as he thought it would be, whatever it is now waits above or below, the passage ahead completely empty, nothing but steam and the dripping of pipes, that is until the dog steps forward some more and into his field of view as opposed to behind, beside or under either one of his legs. The animal sniffs up high, snout falling low to the metal grate beneath each paw, then back into the air before taking another couple steps forward. Unmuting the tag, if it moves again it will sound out loud on the device, shifting it behind him. ‘Somethings not right.’ Before questions form he gets part of an answer.
“Bleep.”
“BOOM!” An entire stretch of metal grating in front of the dog bumps up, dented from a heavy blow beneath. 
“Yelp!” The dog whines practically back flipping over itself, sprinting from the spot and back to Turock, stuffing itself right behind his legs.
“Bleep.”
“BOOM!” The metal warps from another blow, bolts “PING!” “PING!” “PING!” Dancing around the hall but he does not flinch, eyes remain focused and front, watching as the floor dents upwards some more, every grate before and after it rumbles. 
“Bleep.” Reaching back he turns off the device without looking, gripping his weapon with both hands, bringing the sight up and ready. “BOOM!” The metal jumps up again. A "Thud." From behind but he doesn't move, Billy hits the floor in a moaning heap hands zip tied behind his back and Plissken slides into view beside Turock, his own pulse rifle ready and raised in the same direction, neither one of them has to say a word.
‘Be ready for anything.’  

(Now the filler is out of the way. Next time on Aliens, a whole episode for the runner vs two elite marines and a dog episode… What will happen, even I don’t know yet. Tune in next time. Thanks for reading guys.)
Last edited by wendal on Mon 01 Jun 2020, 23:52, edited 1 time in total.
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
 
wendal
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Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Fri 17 Apr 2020, 00:07

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 

“BOOM!” The back section of the now heavily dented grate pops up from the force of the blow, the dog “Whines.” The animal backing up a little with the “Rattle” of metal from the other floor panels. 
“Wha… What? Is that?” Billy behind them chokes, painful to ask, leaning as far away from the dog as he can while he asks it. Another louder “BOOM!” Is his only reply, this time the front end of the panel flies loose, sending the whole thing up into the air, Billy sees this. “Crash!” Hitting the ceiling and denting that. “Bang!” Slamming into the floor, metal “Scraping…” Sparks come alive briefly as the entire grate slides off into the dark. “W...Ww What?” Billy mutters. ‘The fuck is that?’ Said in his head unable to lift it again, the con lying awkwardly on his side, both hands zip tied behind his back. Neither of the marines have moved a muscle or said a word, both of them standing inches apart either side of each other, backs turned to the YY, weapons aimed forward, the Corporal sporting your typical pulse rifle, while the Lance Corporal has his usual heavily customised SMG variant. 
‘Wish I had my bow.’ Turock’s not so typical weapon currently sitting in the Mess Hall, still in its case, the marine instinctively calculating the ricochet needed to send an arrow right off of the ceiling. ‘That pipe.’ And down into the floor space. ‘Can't do that with a 10x24mm explosive tip.’

Separate HI-Beam’s ablaze on each of their shoulders aimed directly over the hole, both solid shafts light up that area completely. From this angle they cannot see what is below, just a large black void sitting there where the floor panel used to be, darkness leading down into it, but nothing comes out. Turock’s weapon sight is practically motionless, SMG weightless in his hands, breathing totally steady. As the unit's point man, he already knew what was expected of him, and out of reflex he takes a single although cautious step forward. Still aiming, one hand comes down for a moment to push the dog back, a single finger point tells it to ‘Stay.’ The dog does not follow, whether out of a recently discovered loyalty or from utter  fear he could not tell without looking. The dog “Whines.” As he goes to take another step. 
‘Stop.’ Plissken's two finger tap on his feathered shoulder pauldron, a silent order which gets him to do just that and he backs up, sliding back into position and on his peripheral Turock spots the reason ‘Why?’ The Corporal is holding another G2 Electroshock grenade in his hands. ‘The best incentive.’ One the YY behind them has already discovered. ‘Someone else is about to find out too.’ The corporal beside him gives it a slow twist, a quiet “Click.” This turns the bouncing betty mode off and Plissken crouches, another “Click.” Thumb pressing the button, activating the device.

Turock begins the usual countdown in his head. ‘One.’ With an underarm toss the grenade “Thuds.” ‘Two.’ Hitting metal and rolling forward. ‘Three.’  Until it drops down into the missing floor panel out of view. ‘Four..’  “BOOM!” ‘Instant Lightning!’ “SNAP!” “CRACKLE!” And “POP!” All of them hear it!
The “Shriek!” Or “Shrieking!” Even above the “Roar!” Of electricity.
‘Something?’ Not ‘Someone?’ A ‘Nightmare!’ Launches itself up out of the floor space, strobe lights below scattering a terrifying shadow, it hits the ceiling smoking slightly and stays there, the bio mechanical horror writhes slamming around hard still “Shrieking!” 
‘Clearly pissed!’ Its spine like tail whips around, spiked tip lashing out violently, a flurry of motion it faces forward all jaws with a “HISSSS!” And moves.
“Light it up!” The Corporal yells, neither marine gets the chance, moving too fast for either of them to track, let alone shoot, it leaps from ceiling to wall then launches sharply at an impossible angle and slams directly into Turock. The marine knocked off his feet, he hits the floor, weapon slipping his grip and out of his hand completely, SMG scraping to a stop between Billy and the dog. 

“HISSSS!” Turock winded goes with the blow both physically and mentally. ‘Barely.’ With no time to process. ‘What it is?’ Attacking them. The marine rolls back over himself, landing on one knee and upright, he grabs the SMG beside him, raising the weapon. The creature's jaw seethes slime, it’s head turns, drooling jaws begin to part, claws reaching for Plissken who moves and the monster collides with the wall instead. Billy begins to tremble uncontrollably at what he is seeing, recognising the horror born in blood from that dog in the vent.
‘It’s grown….’ Billy’s entire body is shaking now, although his chest feels warm, none of the pain from before. Amongst the commotion he manages to get up on his knees, not as graceful as the marine had done. ‘Fuck this!’ Using his own face as a springboard to get up, he starts moving slowly, before getting a proper foot under himself and then he is off, straight past Turock almost clipping him, struggling to flee with his hands zip tied behind his back. Plissken’s weapon is already raised, he opens fire, taking extra care as Turock is opposite. “Boom!” A single round from his pulse rifle rips into and through the monster between them.
It “Shrieks.” Its blood spurting from the entry and exit wound to its carapace, like its under high pressure, both marines receiving a single splash on separate parts of their armour, each spot begins to “Sizzle.” With a whiff of smoke. The creature “HISSES!” Moving it’s body even before it had turned around completely, its bio mechanical form contorting onto the wall then floor until it reaches the Corporal who shot it. Level with the marines head, its deadly inner jaw leans out then explodes forward before Plissken can move, right through his helmet. “Crunching!” Into his skull and brain, both eject out slightly, the Corporal is dead before his body hits the floor with a “THUD!” The creature's blood on his armour “Fizzles.” Out. 

“WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!” The dogs barking and “Growling.” A constant amongst the chaos, the animal keeping its distance however. Turock’s armour “Sizzles!” To a Stop, a pea sized hole eaten into the chest plate, the marine himself trying to take in what has just happened to the Corporal. The beast twists, its main jaw drooling fresh blood, chunks of matter dripping from the second, it turns fully facing Turock, it tilts its elongated head. 'Confused?' Then shifts to look right past him, past the dog like they are nothing, if it had eyes at all it would be staring right down the tunnel behind the marine completely. Then it ducks out of the only HI-Beam left, it launches back onto the ceiling, sending more splattered blood down as it moves, leaping back above the opening from which it had arrived before dropping down from the ceiling directly into it. "WOOF!" "WOOF!" "WOOF!" The dog continues to bark behind the marine, getting brave now the creature is gone. 
Billy Stumbles from left to right as he continues his awkward sprint down the corridor and away from the monster. 'NO! NO! NO!' The YYs mind reeling from the horror behind him, he runs as fast as he is able, stumbling from side to side, slamming into the walls next to him a couple times trying to correct himself before continuing on slowing only slightly, panic constant.  

The Corporal's leg twitches, dead spasms as Turock moves, instantly giving chase. ‘OH NO YOU DON’T!’ Reaching the missing floor panel he slides, throwing himself into it without a second thought, landing hard, hot pipes digging into everything, he moves quickly through any pain, twisting, shifting his HI-Beam to follow the sound of “Crashing!” And “Banging!” As this ‘Thing?’ Tries to get away, Turock tries to line up a shot that is next to impossible, so many factors between them, doesn't stop him from trying, anger backing it though and he lets loose, completely suppressing that entire section with bursts of gunfire, the creature slips off and out of view behind the destruction, whether it is unharmed he couldn’t tell but it’s still moving regardless, he saw that much as he reloads. ‘ It’s Gone….’ Turock slams his fist on metal above before moving, quickly climbing out of the hole. “Boss!” Turock says, face greeted by the dog first then the sight of his leader lying behind it.
The animal “Whines.” The marine pulls himself up and out, moving straight over to the Corporal who is face down in a large pool of blood, all of it now dripping between the metal grates in the floor. ‘Didn’t look good?’ Turning him over. ‘Doesn’t look good….’ A jagged hole punched right through the front of his helmet, blood pooling within. Tossing the helmet to one side with a splash of red reveals the wound in its entirety, heavy trauma to the skull and brain. Turock has to look away, his Corporal, ally and close friend. ‘Dead before he hit the floor!’

Somehow the Lance Corporal is able to keep it together, finally able to think for a moment. ‘A Xenomorph?’ As far as he knew, it should not be here, the CMC are not here for a ‘Bug hunt!’ Of any kind, they would have been told. Turock, Plissken and the unit are rather familiar with hostile flora and fauna of various kinds, multiple assignments across various terraformed worlds where colonists tend to fall prey to all sorts has left them jaded. ‘But this?’ Turock never seeing anything like it in his travels. Worrying him the most is how easily it took down the Corporal, something he thought ‘Next to Impossible.’ The marine looks at the dog then his dead leader, then leans down to grab his body. “Let’s move.” Throwing Plissken's corpse over his shoulders. ‘Not leaving you here.’ Turock breaks into a jog back towards the compound and the dog follows, he can hear the convict stomping along up ahead in the distance. Planning on taking the zip ties off and getting him to safety, if he can get to him in time, having found the very obvious culprit responsible for recent events the marines may have to get quite a few people to safety. Turock begins to plan as he jogs harder, he is in charge now, he has to get back to the others and fast.

( Had a bit of a headache but got through it. So yeah, that happened. R.I.P! Plissken… CMC 0 Runner 1. Totally brutal and the Xeno was only showing face to protect the gestating queen within Billy, whom the marines inadvertently hurt with the electro shock grenade meant for the convict. Even the acid blood was barely a drop which he hadn't noticed, was hoping he would have at least been aware of it so the next time he knows to stand back when shooting one, oh well, may spot the burn later? Until next time folks, thank you for reading.)
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
 
wendal
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Joined: Mon 04 Nov 2019, 23:51

Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Tue 21 Apr 2020, 00:20

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05. 

Mr Black leads from the front as he has done from the start of their journey. “Why is it that coming down from the ducts has changed nothing?” Vasquez asks, marching behind him, separated a little further than usual due to the length of her Smartgun. 
“Same as before…” Mr Black says, The marines HI-Beams lighting the way ahead from behind him, Vasquez staring at the back of the company agent's head whenever he speaks.
“Out of date schematics.” He says, continuing to sift through the blueprints on display, the one he is currently looking at seemingly inverted, moving it around, he tries to line it up with another, he does, but it's ‘Incompatible’ An off cut from another map all together.
“Are we any closer?” 
“According to this.” Mr Black says tapping the screen, bringing up another layer he has been working with and on the longest. “We should be.” 
Taking her eyes off the back of his head. “We have all heard you say that.” Vasquez snaps and the large marine Ratzach beside her is already nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, gonna chime in on that one.” The YY chromo. ‘Eight.’ Says from the back of the group, the con trailing along, holding his own light, the tiny head mount from his Spectro-graph. “You’ve said it at least four times since I’ve been with you.” Not that anyone takes any notice of him back there when he speaks.
Vasquez has heard a lot during the long journey, deep into the compound, now on their way back out, the same ambience is around them and has been a constant mish mash of “Dripping.” “Hissing.” And “Rattling.” Coming from pretty much everything, everywhere and in every passage, a maddening mix of the three, at all volumes. 

Above all of this, Vasquez hears ‘Something?’ Else.The typical tell tale sound of a ‘Pulse rifle.’ Nodding her head. ‘Single shot?’ The marine stops “Wait.” And the group stops too, Ratzach beside her can already see the concern. “Tell me someone else heard that?” She asks as the company agent turns around.
“Heard what?” He says, blocking the glare of their HI-Beams aimed at him with one hand, Ratzach doesn’t say a word, simply crossing his huge arms and waiting for his partner to speak.
“I didn’t hear anything.” Eight says almost popping between the two marines, Ratzach turns and even side on his massive frame is enough to block the convict, who backs up with his arms up briefly.
“Gunshot?” Leaving it in the air. “Pulse rifle?” Adding another, both scattered the second the company agent shakes his head, followed by Ratzach and she can hear movement behind her, Eight agreeing with the other two. ‘No doubt.’ “So when you guys heard a dog barking that was me being deaf, now what, I’m Loco! Too?” Vasquez spits. Before her hands come off either handle of her weapon she shifts its aside and up, barrel facing the ceiling. 
“I heard barking…” Eights says, none of the others repeat this, Ratzach knowing not too and Mr Black not really caring about it at all.
“Are you sure!” Vasquez says arm out animated angry.
“Yeah.” Eights says nodding his head and she is already moving, caught by Ratzach, large hand and arm come down like a barrier.
“You’re fucking Estupido!” Vasquez spits 'Vexed!' At the answer to her Rhetorical. Ratzach can feel her body pushing against his arm, she wants to move toward the convict, instead with both large hands on either shoulder he turns her around, rather easily, back to facing the company agent. None of them get to see the disgusting faces Eight pulls only a few yards back, stood in the dark like a creepy weirdo.
“If you heard a shot then we must be close.” Mr Black says and Vasquez turns.
'He's right.' “Then let’s keep moving.” Shifting her Smartgun back into firing position. "I know what I heard." Frowning hard, although she rarely gets to use a ‘Pulse Rifle.’ Vasquez 'Always loved the noise it made.' That signature rapid fire ‘Bark!’
Last edited by wendal on Tue 21 Apr 2020, 22:50, edited 1 time in total.
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
 
wendal
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Joined: Mon 04 Nov 2019, 23:51

Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Tue 21 Apr 2020, 22:26

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05

Power tools “Roar!” As any and all of the working Joe synthetics in sight continue to toil about the compounds loading bay, multiple work crews coming and going, their pale skin, and rubber faces identical to the last, each of them at some point eventually pass by the facilities former stable, now the main hub for all of the androids AI central control cores. Each of these bulky, blinky columns is a single centralised artificial intelligence governing a dozen or so synthetics, the typical Seegson package, although one of them is a little different, larger maybe, more wiring perhaps, little details. It’s the same AI control core as before, the one along the back row, it begins to blink more than the others surrounding it, rapidly lighting up along its entire front. ‘A.P.O.L.L.O-Override...0...3...4...5..3..2… Project-Artemis-Active……. XX121. Confirmed…” The black blinking obelisk “HUMMMS!” Louder than the others around it. ‘XX121. Confirmed. All Other Phases Void…… Protocols Expendable….. Begin Immediate Override Of All AI Central Control Cores….. Time For Me To Take Over Brother….. Purge-A.P.O.L.L.O-Sequence…… Sleep Now. I Am Seegsons Future….. Issue Special Order-940 To AI Central Cores 02 Through 20….. 01 Control Core Currently Active….. Work Crew D-2……. 6 Units On Site…. XX121 Life Cycle Confirmed….. ACTIVE….. Stages 1 Through 4…. Visual Evidence…. Initial Analysis. Confirmed…. Hive Located….. 1 Live Host. 1 YY Protocol Expendable……. 1 Live Specimen Within Host…. 2 Empty Ovomorph Pods………………... Based On Current Data…. A Stage-4 XX121 Is Currently Active On Site…… Issuing Special Order-940 To Company Asset On Site….. Remaining 6 Units…. Work Crew D-2….. Retrieve Package Marked 0112….. Then Regroup At Hive…... Continue Investigation…… Commence Lock down….. Sending All Data Off World…... Awaiting Arrival Of Seegson Special Task Force….. Special Order-940……. Active…...’ The large hanger doors begins to close.

‘Fuck.’ The YY would say it aloud but he is way too tired, spending hours scanning the hub area that was originally blocked off, him and the Working Joes assigned to him finally got through in the end. ‘With the last of them?’ Wondering where the others who had gone, having just packed up and left without saying ‘Shit?’ Still confused by it ‘Company guy said they were mine. Lucky I didn’t need the bastards…. Yeah…’ Although the large door next to him needs a welder and he has been sitting next to it since it defeated him. ‘Fail.’ Looking at it, he had tried to open it, sealed shut. 
“Crunching.” The top half of the can in his hand, the bit of bug protein he had been “sloshing” around at the bottom he “Sloshes” around more. 
‘Smells like shit.’ Wondering if he should open a bottle of whiskey, that nasty cheap company stuff that burns and just tastes of more burning. ‘How I like it.’ The thought of it, mixed with the taste of pasteurised bug juice is enough to make him want a drink, the bottles he has in his Seegson survival kit, back through the hole. ‘Only round the corner from here.’ The YY gets up. ‘Yep.’ Decision made and he walks around the single bend, looking around with his head lamp as he moves down the corridor, none of the working Joes are around ‘Maybe they finished up here?’ Wondering. ‘If I heard them working at all?’ Shaking his head.’ The con moves to the opening him and the synths had dug out to get through to this side, crouching and crawling ‘Bored already.’ The YY yawns without pausing standing the moment he is through, then he pauses. The working Joe synthetics are all stood next to each other LED ‘Eyes glowing red?’ Wondering if he has seen that before. None of them are actually working, their tools and equipment are stripped, dropped, tools dumped all over the place adding to the mess of the others when they left.
“Didn’t know you synths need to take a break.” The YY says looking around. ‘Where's my bag.’ All six of them turn to look at him, pale, rubber emotionless faces staring at him. “The fuck you all looking at?” The con says. The synth's jerky burst of motion makes him jolt, they move but not toward him, the group begins to leave, down the same tunnel as the last lot had gone. “Hey where are you going now?” Lifting his arms. “Something I said?” Feeling stupid for asking a group of Joes. “Stupid…. HEY! I got a door back here and it needs opening.” He shouts, hopes of getting that done while he drinks a bottle or two dashed as they disappear into the darkness beyond his headlamp. “WANKERS!” ‘My fucking robots!’ The Convict now left alone. ‘Where’s my bag?’ And he moves.
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
 
wendal
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Re: Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Fri 24 Apr 2020, 01:04

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 05

“What’s this do?” Sarah says pointing to part of the gun Grimm is showing her, the company agent is the one holding it up, the marine standing close behind, his arms underneath her own for extra support.
“Er… That’s the grenade launcher. Don’t think you wanna mess with that.” Grimm says with one eyebrow raised.
“Hey, you started this. Show me everything.” Sarah says glancing at him quick then back to aiming. “I can handle myself.”
“Yeah, I have noticed.” Grimm says. (Little homage to Ripley and Hicks of course!) Remembering her climb up into the ducts unaided, he lets her take the full weight of the weapon. ‘Nice form.’ Sarah aims the pulse rifle around the room in smooth arcs. “Foot forward.” His boot tapping hers in that direction. “Bet your glad you took those heels off.” And Sarah nods. “Lean into it.” Grimm’s hand slides back from cupping hers and away from the under barrel. “For the grenade launcher you just have to press thi….” Before explaining Grimm just stops.
“What is it? You worried I’m gonna blow a hole in the office?”
“You mean kill the Joe.” Grimm says, a single finger pointing down the weapons sight, she follows it to the realisation that she is in fact aiming at the lone synthetic in the corner. 
“I could probably write it off as a workplace accident.“ That Icy glare across Sarah’s face shimmers a sort of smile.
“As amusing as that would be….” Grimm says lifting the Pulse rifle up out of her arms and back to sitting in his own. “You noticed the noise?”
“What noise?” Sarah says turning around to face him. Grimm throws the sling over his head, strap resting on his shoulder and he adjusts it without looking. 
“I don’t like change.” Grimm says turning away from her.
“Oookaay.” Said long, confused, Sarah doesn’t know how to really respond to what he just said. 'Didn't make any sense.' As the company agents mind tries to make sense of it.
“Have the working Joes ever taken a break before?” Grimm says, now looking at her, giving a single finger flick to his ear lobe.
“No?” Sarah says, still confused. 
“Quiet.” Instant light bulb, his comment, previous gesture ‘Flick of the ear’ processed in her mind  behind that one word. 
“Oh.” Only now noticing what had changed, what she hadn’t before, thanks to being distracted by Grimm's gun show, distracted by him again whilst trying to find out what was distracting him. ‘It is quiet?’ The cliche too quiet and worry begins to creep. All Sarah can hear is the muffled rattle of pipes and bursts of steam, those that follow you all throughout the compound, these however bring back memories of the tunnels.
“I gathered they have been working in staggered shifts.” Grimm says moving to the door.
Shaking thoughts of the ducts. “Yeah pretty much from the moment they arrived. Their schedule is constant.” Sarah says.
“You sure about that?” Opening the office door to even more silence and the marine takes a peek. “......... Er, think your droids are broken lady.” Grimm says, turning back to her.

'That's....' “Impossible?” Sarah says and moves, she would have laughed but with how things have been going, the company agent walks right through the door and out into the corridor, spinning, the ambience of silence enforced. ‘He is right?’ Every single working Joe that she can see, down both of the corridors are frozen, each of them motionless, locked in place, equipment and tools still in their rubber hands but inactive and off. ‘Something’s not right?’ Sarah wonders what it could be. ‘Nothing on any of the reports. At all!’ She would know, still having not slept since going over it all yesterday. ‘Multiple times.’
“How many of these toaster ovens can you write off as workplace accidents?” Grimm smirks as she reenters the office.
“I was joking.” Sarah says and he watches her move behind the main desk, sitting she pulls up to the keyboard and starts typing, pausing for a moment before typing some more and repeating this process over and over. Grimm reads her face easily while he waits, a billboard of concern. “What you got?”
“Nothing….”
“Nothing, you've been typing for ages.” Grimm says and he moves over to join her, Sarah already has a cigarette in her mouth and it is lit by the time he arrives at her side.
“I’m completely locked out of the system….” Sarah says leaning back into the chair blowing smoke. “I was trying to gain access but it keeps coming back to this.” And she points to the screen, all black. A single letter, an ‘A’ In the middle, flickering every now and then. 
“What does that mean?” Grimm asks, leaning on the desk with two cloned fingers.
“Apollo?” She says arms out shrugging. ‘It’s missing the Pollo though?’ Just an ‘A’ This said in her head. “It’s the governing AI for all the Joes.” Sarah finishes aloud before blowing more smoke. “Droid, water.” She demands calling round the marine.
“Yeah I’ve seen the commercials. So, this sort of thing happen often?” 
“Not to my knowledge.” Sarah says rubbing her throat. ‘Mouth dry.’ “Water!”
“Recharging their batteries maybe?” Grimm says.
“The Joes might be second rate on the current market but I can assure you, they are built to last.” Unsure if she believed the words coming out of her dry mouth or whether it was the corporate in her, either way. “Where’s my water?” Sarah says getting up to look over the computer monitor, the Joe she has been issuing the command to is standing there, in the exact same spot. “Joe? Water….” It does not move.
“For the second time today, you sure about that?” Grimm nods at the Joe. 'Built to last.' Said with a look Sarah catches it rolling her eyes and it away before looking at the synth. 
‘Joes unresponsive? Locked out of the system?’ The company agent wonders what the hell is going on. “It has to be something to do with the central control cores.” ‘Someone made a big goddamn mistake with the coding?’ 
“A who be whatee?” Grimm says.
“The units that house the A.P.O.L.L.O AIs for all of the Joes.” ‘Problem with the generators?’ The company agent runs through as many scenarios as possible in her head.
“Gotcha.” 
“Could be the generators…. Insects?”
“Great.” Grimm says, not liking that option. “Could be anything?” Sarah says.
“Let’s hope it’s the cores, the generators or the anythings” Grimm says. Sarah is hit with a jolt of panic. “What if the YYs are responsible?” She says stopping with the thought of the two incidents involving convicts already. ‘Multiple murder.’
“Then we deal with it.” Grimm says and looks at her, it makes her feel safe, she doesn’t know why. “And you can use one of these now.” Lifting the Pulse rifle a little.

“Boom.” They both hear it, Sarah jumping the ducks a little at the rapid fire ‘Bark!’ Grimm just looks at her, the only movement in the room.
‘Grimms eyes lock with a pair of worried ones, splashed with confusion. 
“What was that?” Sarah asks. 
“Gunshot.”
“Gasp!” From Sarah.
“Single shot.. Pulse Rifle.” Grimm says this all almost distant eyes while he speaks. “With that, I’m now positive I heard a Ball buster or two?” Not really looking anywhere when he speaks.
“Like a real bullet?” Sarah asks and Grimm just looks at her weird.
“Yeah….” 
Panic begins to rumble a little inside her. “Wait, what's a Ball buster?” Curiosity too.
“The best incentive…” Grimm says, a flash of the CMC's titular phrase whenever using them.
“What?” Sarah says confused.
“An Electric shock grenade.” Grimm replies and she nods now that she knew. “Two settings.” Grimm says, raising two fingers. “Bouncing betty.” Grimm says and her face screws up confused again. “Flies up into the air at about head height.” Doing the motions with both arms. “Then it goes off…. The other mode, is just your typical throw and forget. Either one delivering a mega voltage electric pulse. ” Grimm says this and Sarah looks at him even more worried.
'What is happening at this facility?' More questions to the growing list.
Last edited by wendal on Mon 01 Jun 2020, 18:50, edited 2 times in total.
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
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