Time to add another cast member to the mix, so here you go, episode 2 will follow shortly, hope people are enjoying the content so far.
Sarah G. Foster
Career.
Company Agent.
Agenda.
To complete this god awful assignment earlier than estimated.
Attributes.
Strength 2
Wits 5
Agility 4
Empathy 3
Skills.
Close Combat 1
Ranged Combat 1
Observation 3
Comtech 1
Manipulation 3
Stamina 1
Health 2
Talents.
Personal safety.
Signature item.
A Company watch, the only gift her father has ever given her.
Gear.
Leather briefcase.
Gold plated pen.
Data transmission card with corporate clearance level.
D6 doses of Never sleep.
Formerly a natural brunette, having to shave her head for this assignment is not something she really wanted to do, but when the company says jump, you have to schedule a meeting to ask how high. Never seen anywhere on the compound without the corp replacement anywhere, a synthetic wig, sculpted from scans of her original hair and made with materials that do not attract the lice so prevalent on this planet, provided by the company, taken off her final pay. Has had an icy glare, which has not left her face since the lasers took her real hair, all for this bottom barrel scraping, remnant of a job.
Before being dragged all the way out here, Sarah frequented the local Seegson gym between long working hours, just for the basic self defence and fitness training classes, nothing too intense. Even attended one of the Corp funded firearms courses once, although that was a few years ago and a little in cryo now. Taller than most women, wearing the generic company pant suit, name tag, company logo shoulder pads and all. Deep greys and black heels whenever on duty, more flexible pantsuit when off duty, lighter, without the shoulder pads.
She has a large, very expensive Company watch, the only gift ever given to her by her father, much higher up in Seegson corp, this present was sent to her when she failed to get her first big promotion. Sent via standard courier, no card just a note ‘Dad.’ Inside sat the expertly crafted, premium gold plated, deluxe corporate watch. First generation timepiece too, you know the spiel, they don’t make them like that any more.
It was the one her father would have received for his first big promotion, having to find this info out herself, via company databases and archives. Wears it out of spite and it looks out of place on her wrist, simply because of how large it is. On those outside of the company she has been able to use it to her advantage, people recognise value, class and shiny things when it comes to corporate. Duping them into believing she is way more important than she is and she likes it. Sometimes even trying it with low level employees.
Has know idea why she received this assignment, coming out of nowhere on her very average career behind multiple desks for years now. Then this, a low end supervisor position on some former WY owned planet and facility in the Outer Veil. With severe weather conditions, rampant insect life and YY chromosome syndrome former inmates just roaming around she’s not happy with any of it. Although the corp execs sent over the ex convicts files, all small time felons, robberies at most nothing violent, plus a squad of CMC marines will be on site to protect them, it’s all in the files, either way she was uncomfortable. Sarah does not believe anything to do with the whole space beast tale, has not and will not read such trash, although thought it strange any one higher up in the company would even bother to ask such a question.
Estimated time of completion for scrapping this planet, just under a year. '310 Days too long.'
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Episode 2
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
Sarah leans forward, stretching across the superintendents desk, its four legs still riveted to the ground, rusty bolts anchored to the floor long ago, his name still printed some peeled, faded on the door and there is a plaque around here somewhere too, both read. ‘Harold Andrews.’ Other than that, she has not looked into his file. Flicking ash into a cup of water whilst scratching her wig, trying not to think about how fake it feels between her fingers, some kind of plastic polymer, making sure the hair line stays perfectly aligned, always. Pulling her cigarette away, smoke parted by a plastic top hat, the beak of a drinking bird dips down into the soiled liquid, the tip separating floating butts already put out. Rubbing her left eye, dragging both eyelids around with her fingertips releases some of the strain that has been building there, the effects of staring at a digital monitor for so long, starting to show.
Leaning back into her chair, Sarah hadn’t had a break for pretty much the entire shift, going on the full twelve hours almost. Stopping briefly for a snack and coffee only, even then she still tapped away on the keyboard and scrolled along with the mouse, one eye on the screen. Going through as many files as possibly before she clocks off shortly, hazy eyes every so often slide over to the large corporate watch, oversized, the slick gold plated timepiece is pretty hefty and looks out of place on her wrist, still it gives her the time and date based on earth. Not this planets maddeningly short ten day year, a cycle that sees five of those days in darkness. Lifting her view up from the monitor and to the ceiling blowing smoke, stretching her neck, frustrated with her efforts and where they are getting her so far. ‘Nowhere.’
She has been exhaustingly trying to bring back the estimated completion date of this operation by anyway possible, with hope it will impress the company enough that they won’t send her on an assignment like this one ever again. Going through the predictions, all estimates in place and already on the system, the synthetics work schedule, the scrap ship removal dates, timetables and shifts. Even trying to cut costs anywhere else feasible, just enough to maybe hire an outside firm in to speed up any of the processes involved.
This has been met with utter failure, even though Sarah is positive at this point she is correct and has been this whole time, having checked it all over and over. T’s crossed and I holes punched, multiple times. Whenever she puts it all together and places it in the network to be processed via A.P.O.L.L.O, it keeps coming back with errors. Factors involved that she doesn't seem to be able to see, hidden behind higher clearance levels or missing programs entirely for that matter, even some simple command keys aren’t working properly in areas. Now starting to wonder if someone back in administration screwed up the settings for the servers. ‘Would not be the first time.’ Or the last and sending out any form of replacements out here will take forever.
A group of Synthetics pass by the closed office door, enough that she could hear all of them coming, going and speaking. Catching a glimpse of pale white faces and glowing white eyes streaking past the glass, above those muffled monotone working Joe statements and quotes as they go about their work. Sarah suddenly remembers the single synthetic standing over in the far corner, the fact it is frozen on the spot awaiting her command hasn’t helped in remembering its presence there as a servant at all.
The Joe not quite staring at her but looking in her general direction and has done so the whole time she has been in here. Knowing all data from this operation will eventually be processed and assessed Sarah has done nothing but work hard in front of him and any synth, even though she is here too supervise them, there are moments where she feels like it’s the other way round. ‘Silently watching at times.’ Wondering if she was just being a little paranoid. ‘You never know with the company.’
Scrolling down again and not liking what she sees, frowning hard, flicking the ash of the cigarette into the cup of water and a “Slam” of the mouse. “Hiss” The ash hits, without removing her scowl from the screen… ‘Wait.’ That was her actual drink of water, Sarah's frown thickens. “Really?” Putting the cigarette out in the drinking birds cup and pulling it away before its beak goes down into it again. “Another water.” Sarah says to the average Joe, now looking right at its emotionless, distant and pale rubber face. The Synth goes from standing perfectly still, to walking instantly, a little jarring to see as it crosses the large office, to another desk directly opposite the one she herself is sat behind. Retrieving a serving tray with a stack of foam cups and a plastic jug of sealed purified Seegson brand water.
She smirks at its silence as it arrives, having used the Data transmission card and its corporate clearance level when she first came into the office and has done since her arrival, upon being granted access to the clearance. Sarah was able to disable the synthetics speech functionalities, that monotone voice and random advertisements of Seegson brand products, none of which she wanted to hear whilst working. Usually one would have to pay to shut off the ads, but with the Data transmission card provided for this job, she did not have to. Her only victory on this planet so far, the average Joes silence, intent on another however, ‘Speeding up this operation?’
Taking the foam cup from the Joe and drinking half, placing the rest closer to her this time, next to the keyboard. Not wanting it to be mistaken for another ashtray like she has done a few times now, expensive ashtrays, the water like everything else consumable on any job, is coming out of her pay. Moving the new one she had just made in front of the drinking bird, this time a single cigarette butt sits in its cup. The Synthetic takes the other more used ashtray before walking away silent, Sarah returns to her screen the same.
Checking the system again, it all seems to be fine and with nothing really wrong with what she is putting in, Sarah is at a loss. Again. ‘Wait, what if I?’ Something that had not occurred to her until now, with a couple purposeful key strokes and a click Sarah with a little luck comes across something she hadn’t done before, some coding data and a ‘Project-Artemis. Active?’ Amongst it all, It’s not much but it was more than she had before. Wondering what in the hell it could mean, Sarah tries to discover that and is unable to do so, met with block after block until something else slides past. ‘Special order 940. Passive? No further enhancement.’ Both seem to be attached to the Apollo mainframe and by extension, all of the synthetics stationed here.’?’ Sarah is just confused, none of this had been passed down during the briefing.
Why would the company have a special order out on a job like this, some other random project active in the background. All whilst failing to inform the only two company agents who are on site, one of whom is Sarah. ‘Unless it’s some kind of test.’ Attention now fully on the display, but no matter what avenue she takes it always ends in the same errors, re-check systems screens or a full network freeze, all the same as before with the estimates, none of which made her feel any better about this assignment as a whole. ‘Somethings off?’ Sarah could feel it.
Positive she heard some human voices down one of the halls, across from the office earlier when the door was ajar, judging by the chatter, content and banter it was not any one of the marines stationed here, although they too could be just as vulgar, this was something else entirely. Ordering the door be kept shut since by any synth who enters with the next file, document or Seegson P-DAT to be signed off or reviewed, having the Joe in the corner gives her some minor comfort, when she remembers its there.
Corporate did send over the prisoners files, which stated that company agents made sure to hire only those ex cons with minor offences on there record, nothing to violent, robberies, burglaries and stealing company property etc. Not that it made her feel better, Sarah could not understand why they hired these men specifically to do the job, or at all. Even if they knew this facilities layout in parts, most of it would still be your standard survey and grid mapping assignment, without a previous layout to work from, going in blind so to speak. Wondering why no custodial staff members were hired at all, how could they not find a single one of those hapless men and women. Obvious almost unnecessary risk that is probably affecting the variables and results now that she thinks about it.
A pop up, on the bottom right of the monitor, an alert from the second company agent, its a message in fact. Spotting it instantly Sarah is annoyed he still hasn’t updated his profile on the system, even though she keeps reminding him too. So now as always his name doesn’t come up, it’s just the default. ‘Guest.’ Looks so lazy on the report. ‘Guest is going to be a little late to his shift. ‘Finally.’ Moved around the shower units, one in each room, the Joes brought in the proper systems this time, frosted plastic for our privacy, still I’d always recommend having a marine present, female conveniently, but you know what this place is like and you have been working around it already?’ The message ends there. At Least she gets a little more time to go over the information she has so far, and that is what she continues to do.
Then her system freezes up again, a blank flicker, the whole screen taken over. ‘Priority One Task.’ It reads, pretty basic. ‘Company agents on site to retrieve Seegson data, intel packet included with this file.’ That’s it, nothing else, it doesn’t say who its from, just the Seegson stamp of approval and the printed signature of any one of the board members. ‘Technically.’ This is into the other company guys time, nothing to do with her, but with all the strange stuff that's seems to be going on she has to have a look. With a tap she opens the file… And?
Now Sarah is certain, something more than a simple scrap operation is going on down here on Fiorina 161. The order, is the retrieval of two parameter up-link spectro-graphic mapping devices that have gone dark, online but immobile, both in high interest or value locations, the intel packet can’t quite decide, either way someone up top wants this done and for the data transmitter cards from each to be directly uploaded to head office. The downside with the Seegson brand of spectro-graph, no wireless up-link like its competitor the WY’s PUP’s, the data has to be brought back and uploaded manually.
Sarah wonders why the company would send its own personal assets in after expendable technology, that's what Joes are for, especially when the tech was assigned to ex cons, who may or may not still be in the area, more obvious almost unnecessary risk. The only way, is if it was important. ‘Something to do with this Project-Artemis. And Special Order 940 perhaps?’ Two hidden corporate subroutines on a run of the mill scrap job, and now this priority one task over something that should be nothing. ‘It cannot be a coincidence?’ Then another thing hits her. ‘How has any of this been transmitted back and forth off world so quickly?’
Glancing at the large watch on her wrist, for a moment it feels heavier than it ever has, she knew what her father would do, what anyone worth their salt would do, smirking hard at the golden clock face.
‘Screw it.’ Sarah cant let this just slide into the other company agents lap like this, not if it ends up being a juicy lead, she has to at least check it out. ‘There’s time.’ She tells herself. Opening a draw she grabs one of the Long data discs, Seegson brand 5 zettabytes, downloading the entire priority one task and intel packet, taking the whole file off the system and onto the LDD, placing the storage device into her leather briefcase, making sure to lock it and slide it well out of the way. She makes a single copy onto a Seegson personal data tablet one she will take with her.
Now the other company agent won’t find out about this unless she needs him to and definitely not until she checks it out for herself, which she intends to do as soon as possible. Planning on leaving right now in fact, this is all in her down time too, which always looks good on any report. She’ll need just a couple of the marines for protection, then together they can head over to the coordinates and retrieve the two devices, simple.
Spinning in the chair around to the shelves and pigeon holes behind and grabbing the bulky radio among many, this one labelled with tape, written in pen. ‘Mess hall.’ “This is Foster….. To the Mess hall, come in.” Sarah says, awaiting a reply.
“Copy…” Says a gruff smokers voice, not just the cliche but worse coming through on the other end.
“I need two marines for your basic transfer to somewhere deeper in the compound, after that a standard guard detail, coordinates and shift details will be provided on location. I’ll meet them along the offices.” Again she waits for a response.
“Roger that, they are on the move.” The radio goes silent, stays that way and she puts it back on the desk between the others.
Butterflies with razor blades for wings flutter around in her stomach. ‘This might be something!’ The sensation building in intensity the more she tries to put all of the odd pieces involved together, none of it fit, especially for Seegson. Maybe finding the spectro-graphs will give some insight into this Project-Artemis and Special Order 940.
Sarah begins to wonder, a little hope laced throughout those thoughts, of if she will be able to use any this to her advantage, assisting in moving the estimated time of completion of this operation back significantly. ‘Maybe.’ She won’t know until she has this new data in hand and puts it through A.P.O.L.LO. “If the other company agent asks, I’m busy.” She says to the synthetic in the corner, he does not reply, or move, no reaction at all, but she knew the Joe had taken it in, Sarah has worked with them long enough.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
Sarah leans forward, stretching across the superintendents desk, its four legs still riveted to the ground, rusty bolts anchored to the floor long ago, his name still printed some peeled, faded on the door and there is a plaque around here somewhere too, both read. ‘Harold Andrews.’ Other than that, she has not looked into his file. Flicking ash into a cup of water whilst scratching her wig, trying not to think about how fake it feels between her fingers, some kind of plastic polymer, making sure the hair line stays perfectly aligned, always. Pulling her cigarette away, smoke parted by a plastic top hat, the beak of a drinking bird dips down into the soiled liquid, the tip separating floating butts already put out. Rubbing her left eye, dragging both eyelids around with her fingertips releases some of the strain that has been building there, the effects of staring at a digital monitor for so long, starting to show.
Leaning back into her chair, Sarah hadn’t had a break for pretty much the entire shift, going on the full twelve hours almost. Stopping briefly for a snack and coffee only, even then she still tapped away on the keyboard and scrolled along with the mouse, one eye on the screen. Going through as many files as possibly before she clocks off shortly, hazy eyes every so often slide over to the large corporate watch, oversized, the slick gold plated timepiece is pretty hefty and looks out of place on her wrist, still it gives her the time and date based on earth. Not this planets maddeningly short ten day year, a cycle that sees five of those days in darkness. Lifting her view up from the monitor and to the ceiling blowing smoke, stretching her neck, frustrated with her efforts and where they are getting her so far. ‘Nowhere.’
She has been exhaustingly trying to bring back the estimated completion date of this operation by anyway possible, with hope it will impress the company enough that they won’t send her on an assignment like this one ever again. Going through the predictions, all estimates in place and already on the system, the synthetics work schedule, the scrap ship removal dates, timetables and shifts. Even trying to cut costs anywhere else feasible, just enough to maybe hire an outside firm in to speed up any of the processes involved.
This has been met with utter failure, even though Sarah is positive at this point she is correct and has been this whole time, having checked it all over and over. T’s crossed and I holes punched, multiple times. Whenever she puts it all together and places it in the network to be processed via A.P.O.L.L.O, it keeps coming back with errors. Factors involved that she doesn't seem to be able to see, hidden behind higher clearance levels or missing programs entirely for that matter, even some simple command keys aren’t working properly in areas. Now starting to wonder if someone back in administration screwed up the settings for the servers. ‘Would not be the first time.’ Or the last and sending out any form of replacements out here will take forever.
A group of Synthetics pass by the closed office door, enough that she could hear all of them coming, going and speaking. Catching a glimpse of pale white faces and glowing white eyes streaking past the glass, above those muffled monotone working Joe statements and quotes as they go about their work. Sarah suddenly remembers the single synthetic standing over in the far corner, the fact it is frozen on the spot awaiting her command hasn’t helped in remembering its presence there as a servant at all.
The Joe not quite staring at her but looking in her general direction and has done so the whole time she has been in here. Knowing all data from this operation will eventually be processed and assessed Sarah has done nothing but work hard in front of him and any synth, even though she is here too supervise them, there are moments where she feels like it’s the other way round. ‘Silently watching at times.’ Wondering if she was just being a little paranoid. ‘You never know with the company.’
Scrolling down again and not liking what she sees, frowning hard, flicking the ash of the cigarette into the cup of water and a “Slam” of the mouse. “Hiss” The ash hits, without removing her scowl from the screen… ‘Wait.’ That was her actual drink of water, Sarah's frown thickens. “Really?” Putting the cigarette out in the drinking birds cup and pulling it away before its beak goes down into it again. “Another water.” Sarah says to the average Joe, now looking right at its emotionless, distant and pale rubber face. The Synth goes from standing perfectly still, to walking instantly, a little jarring to see as it crosses the large office, to another desk directly opposite the one she herself is sat behind. Retrieving a serving tray with a stack of foam cups and a plastic jug of sealed purified Seegson brand water.
She smirks at its silence as it arrives, having used the Data transmission card and its corporate clearance level when she first came into the office and has done since her arrival, upon being granted access to the clearance. Sarah was able to disable the synthetics speech functionalities, that monotone voice and random advertisements of Seegson brand products, none of which she wanted to hear whilst working. Usually one would have to pay to shut off the ads, but with the Data transmission card provided for this job, she did not have to. Her only victory on this planet so far, the average Joes silence, intent on another however, ‘Speeding up this operation?’
Taking the foam cup from the Joe and drinking half, placing the rest closer to her this time, next to the keyboard. Not wanting it to be mistaken for another ashtray like she has done a few times now, expensive ashtrays, the water like everything else consumable on any job, is coming out of her pay. Moving the new one she had just made in front of the drinking bird, this time a single cigarette butt sits in its cup. The Synthetic takes the other more used ashtray before walking away silent, Sarah returns to her screen the same.
Checking the system again, it all seems to be fine and with nothing really wrong with what she is putting in, Sarah is at a loss. Again. ‘Wait, what if I?’ Something that had not occurred to her until now, with a couple purposeful key strokes and a click Sarah with a little luck comes across something she hadn’t done before, some coding data and a ‘Project-Artemis. Active?’ Amongst it all, It’s not much but it was more than she had before. Wondering what in the hell it could mean, Sarah tries to discover that and is unable to do so, met with block after block until something else slides past. ‘Special order 940. Passive? No further enhancement.’ Both seem to be attached to the Apollo mainframe and by extension, all of the synthetics stationed here.’?’ Sarah is just confused, none of this had been passed down during the briefing.
Why would the company have a special order out on a job like this, some other random project active in the background. All whilst failing to inform the only two company agents who are on site, one of whom is Sarah. ‘Unless it’s some kind of test.’ Attention now fully on the display, but no matter what avenue she takes it always ends in the same errors, re-check systems screens or a full network freeze, all the same as before with the estimates, none of which made her feel any better about this assignment as a whole. ‘Somethings off?’ Sarah could feel it.
Positive she heard some human voices down one of the halls, across from the office earlier when the door was ajar, judging by the chatter, content and banter it was not any one of the marines stationed here, although they too could be just as vulgar, this was something else entirely. Ordering the door be kept shut since by any synth who enters with the next file, document or Seegson P-DAT to be signed off or reviewed, having the Joe in the corner gives her some minor comfort, when she remembers its there.
Corporate did send over the prisoners files, which stated that company agents made sure to hire only those ex cons with minor offences on there record, nothing to violent, robberies, burglaries and stealing company property etc. Not that it made her feel better, Sarah could not understand why they hired these men specifically to do the job, or at all. Even if they knew this facilities layout in parts, most of it would still be your standard survey and grid mapping assignment, without a previous layout to work from, going in blind so to speak. Wondering why no custodial staff members were hired at all, how could they not find a single one of those hapless men and women. Obvious almost unnecessary risk that is probably affecting the variables and results now that she thinks about it.
A pop up, on the bottom right of the monitor, an alert from the second company agent, its a message in fact. Spotting it instantly Sarah is annoyed he still hasn’t updated his profile on the system, even though she keeps reminding him too. So now as always his name doesn’t come up, it’s just the default. ‘Guest.’ Looks so lazy on the report. ‘Guest is going to be a little late to his shift. ‘Finally.’ Moved around the shower units, one in each room, the Joes brought in the proper systems this time, frosted plastic for our privacy, still I’d always recommend having a marine present, female conveniently, but you know what this place is like and you have been working around it already?’ The message ends there. At Least she gets a little more time to go over the information she has so far, and that is what she continues to do.
Then her system freezes up again, a blank flicker, the whole screen taken over. ‘Priority One Task.’ It reads, pretty basic. ‘Company agents on site to retrieve Seegson data, intel packet included with this file.’ That’s it, nothing else, it doesn’t say who its from, just the Seegson stamp of approval and the printed signature of any one of the board members. ‘Technically.’ This is into the other company guys time, nothing to do with her, but with all the strange stuff that's seems to be going on she has to have a look. With a tap she opens the file… And?
Now Sarah is certain, something more than a simple scrap operation is going on down here on Fiorina 161. The order, is the retrieval of two parameter up-link spectro-graphic mapping devices that have gone dark, online but immobile, both in high interest or value locations, the intel packet can’t quite decide, either way someone up top wants this done and for the data transmitter cards from each to be directly uploaded to head office. The downside with the Seegson brand of spectro-graph, no wireless up-link like its competitor the WY’s PUP’s, the data has to be brought back and uploaded manually.
Sarah wonders why the company would send its own personal assets in after expendable technology, that's what Joes are for, especially when the tech was assigned to ex cons, who may or may not still be in the area, more obvious almost unnecessary risk. The only way, is if it was important. ‘Something to do with this Project-Artemis. And Special Order 940 perhaps?’ Two hidden corporate subroutines on a run of the mill scrap job, and now this priority one task over something that should be nothing. ‘It cannot be a coincidence?’ Then another thing hits her. ‘How has any of this been transmitted back and forth off world so quickly?’
Glancing at the large watch on her wrist, for a moment it feels heavier than it ever has, she knew what her father would do, what anyone worth their salt would do, smirking hard at the golden clock face.
‘Screw it.’ Sarah cant let this just slide into the other company agents lap like this, not if it ends up being a juicy lead, she has to at least check it out. ‘There’s time.’ She tells herself. Opening a draw she grabs one of the Long data discs, Seegson brand 5 zettabytes, downloading the entire priority one task and intel packet, taking the whole file off the system and onto the LDD, placing the storage device into her leather briefcase, making sure to lock it and slide it well out of the way. She makes a single copy onto a Seegson personal data tablet one she will take with her.
Now the other company agent won’t find out about this unless she needs him to and definitely not until she checks it out for herself, which she intends to do as soon as possible. Planning on leaving right now in fact, this is all in her down time too, which always looks good on any report. She’ll need just a couple of the marines for protection, then together they can head over to the coordinates and retrieve the two devices, simple.
Spinning in the chair around to the shelves and pigeon holes behind and grabbing the bulky radio among many, this one labelled with tape, written in pen. ‘Mess hall.’ “This is Foster….. To the Mess hall, come in.” Sarah says, awaiting a reply.
“Copy…” Says a gruff smokers voice, not just the cliche but worse coming through on the other end.
“I need two marines for your basic transfer to somewhere deeper in the compound, after that a standard guard detail, coordinates and shift details will be provided on location. I’ll meet them along the offices.” Again she waits for a response.
“Roger that, they are on the move.” The radio goes silent, stays that way and she puts it back on the desk between the others.
Butterflies with razor blades for wings flutter around in her stomach. ‘This might be something!’ The sensation building in intensity the more she tries to put all of the odd pieces involved together, none of it fit, especially for Seegson. Maybe finding the spectro-graphs will give some insight into this Project-Artemis and Special Order 940.
Sarah begins to wonder, a little hope laced throughout those thoughts, of if she will be able to use any this to her advantage, assisting in moving the estimated time of completion of this operation back significantly. ‘Maybe.’ She won’t know until she has this new data in hand and puts it through A.P.O.L.LO. “If the other company agent asks, I’m busy.” She says to the synthetic in the corner, he does not reply, or move, no reaction at all, but she knew the Joe had taken it in, Sarah has worked with them long enough.
Last edited by wendal on Mon 23 Dec 2019, 19:36, edited 2 times in total.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
One of the marines being sent over to escort the company asset.
Private. First. Class. Adam ‘Grimm’ Grimmshald.
Career.
Colonial marine.
Agenda.
Get rid of these nightmares.
Attributes.
Strength 4
Wits 3
Agility 4
Empathy 3
Skills.
Close Combat 3
Ranged Combat 3
Observation 1
Stamina 2
Survival 1
Health 4
Talents. .
Past the limit.
Signature item.
Any one of his cloned limbs. A reminder that only some of him has to make it through the other side of any conflict
.
Gear.
M41A Pulse Rifle
M314 Motion Tracker
M3 Personnel body armor
Signal flare
‘Grimm.’ As every marine eventually comes round to call him. One milky eye, red dot replacement, just under the white rubber. His face is in a constant almost painful grimace. Formerly on extended medical leave after a minor bug hunt went south in the worst of ways. Resulting in the loss of his whole unit including most of his limbs, only his right arm remained, barely, all the others are now cloned replacements and they always feel a little awkward, he even lost an eye, which is the reason for his grimace and milky red dot, but no one asks. Most in the core recognise any scars on a marine, even the ones others can’t see, Grimm is covered in them both.
Passing the psych eval by the skin of his teeth, he could have failed if he really wanted but he chose not to. So the looks he was getting aside, he agreed with the next op, as you do. It was that or mope around in a psych ward for god knows how long. So here he is, assigned on active duty to Fiorina 161, a brand new unit, his second one in his whole career, barely familiar with any of them at all, it’s not your typical squad either, two extra privates, one of them him and another fresh out of boot recruit, stuck with a short straw on a long list, unlucky list.
Nightmares of the endo-parasite that took his men a few years ago, still haunt him. Some minor corporate mishap saw to it that the majority of them and his squad horrifically gave birth to bloodbursters. That sight alone is horrific in its own right but what followed made up for any of that. Dire straits left only the lance corporal, Adam and one company asset alive to fend off the resultant returning, shortly after growing monstrously large wave of adult neo-morphs. The pair of marines and a scientist Killed them all, the lance corporal, scientist and 'Grimms' Limbs all lost in the process. He now has a growing need for Naproleve ever since, at first it was for the pain, then it was for his new limbs, adjusting etc, before long he need it for more, now almost everything.
With three cloned limbs two legs and an arm, one of them is slightly different, off colour to the rest. The left was grown using blood samples from his squad mates, taken from his armor, which wasn’t contaminated, three of them and his own Dna were used to grow the limb, ‘Grimm’ Payed for this macabre procedure himself.
Private. First. Class. Adam ‘Grimm’ Grimmshald.
Career.
Colonial marine.
Agenda.
Get rid of these nightmares.
Attributes.
Strength 4
Wits 3
Agility 4
Empathy 3
Skills.
Close Combat 3
Ranged Combat 3
Observation 1
Stamina 2
Survival 1
Health 4
Talents. .
Past the limit.
Signature item.
Any one of his cloned limbs. A reminder that only some of him has to make it through the other side of any conflict
.
Gear.
M41A Pulse Rifle
M314 Motion Tracker
M3 Personnel body armor
Signal flare
‘Grimm.’ As every marine eventually comes round to call him. One milky eye, red dot replacement, just under the white rubber. His face is in a constant almost painful grimace. Formerly on extended medical leave after a minor bug hunt went south in the worst of ways. Resulting in the loss of his whole unit including most of his limbs, only his right arm remained, barely, all the others are now cloned replacements and they always feel a little awkward, he even lost an eye, which is the reason for his grimace and milky red dot, but no one asks. Most in the core recognise any scars on a marine, even the ones others can’t see, Grimm is covered in them both.
Passing the psych eval by the skin of his teeth, he could have failed if he really wanted but he chose not to. So the looks he was getting aside, he agreed with the next op, as you do. It was that or mope around in a psych ward for god knows how long. So here he is, assigned on active duty to Fiorina 161, a brand new unit, his second one in his whole career, barely familiar with any of them at all, it’s not your typical squad either, two extra privates, one of them him and another fresh out of boot recruit, stuck with a short straw on a long list, unlucky list.
Nightmares of the endo-parasite that took his men a few years ago, still haunt him. Some minor corporate mishap saw to it that the majority of them and his squad horrifically gave birth to bloodbursters. That sight alone is horrific in its own right but what followed made up for any of that. Dire straits left only the lance corporal, Adam and one company asset alive to fend off the resultant returning, shortly after growing monstrously large wave of adult neo-morphs. The pair of marines and a scientist Killed them all, the lance corporal, scientist and 'Grimms' Limbs all lost in the process. He now has a growing need for Naproleve ever since, at first it was for the pain, then it was for his new limbs, adjusting etc, before long he need it for more, now almost everything.
With three cloned limbs two legs and an arm, one of them is slightly different, off colour to the rest. The left was grown using blood samples from his squad mates, taken from his armor, which wasn’t contaminated, three of them and his own Dna were used to grow the limb, ‘Grimm’ Payed for this macabre procedure himself.
Last edited by wendal on Sun 08 Dec 2019, 15:07, edited 2 times in total.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
The other marine sent to escort the company asset.
Private. Nik ‘Rookie’ Elson
Career.
Colonial marine.
Agenda.
Shake this rookie bullshit rickety quick.
Attributes.
Strength 3
Wits 4
Agility 4
Empathy 3
Skills.
Close Combat 3
Ranged Combat 3
Observation 1
Stamina 2
medical aid 1
Health 3
Talents. .
Banter.
Signature item.
Letter from home.
Gear.
M41A Pulse Rifle
M314 Motion Tracker
M3 Personnel body armor
Signal flare
As green as they come, straight and out of the academy. Short of stature and a baby face to boot, the silent type. Unfortunately, instead of the typical rotation or posting into squad or a platoon Nik has found himself self cycled off the roster completely and onto the CMC’s corporate allocations, purely by chance he finds himself shaved beyond regs and shipped to the outer veil, Fiorina 161. ‘Fury.’
The unit he has been assigned to slapped ‘Rookie’ on him from the first day they met and have not dropped it since. Eager to prove that he is above the cliched greenhorn banter that any one of them aside from ‘Grimm’ toss his way daily, he ignores most of it, following orders like a good soldier should, volunteering for everything without pause, even the jobs that are less savoury, like the ones on the surface. Where none of the others ever want to go, one of the privates has to be in a compression suit for whatever reason. ‘Bugs’ or something.
Private. Nik ‘Rookie’ Elson
Career.
Colonial marine.
Agenda.
Shake this rookie bullshit rickety quick.
Attributes.
Strength 3
Wits 4
Agility 4
Empathy 3
Skills.
Close Combat 3
Ranged Combat 3
Observation 1
Stamina 2
medical aid 1
Health 3
Talents. .
Banter.
Signature item.
Letter from home.
Gear.
M41A Pulse Rifle
M314 Motion Tracker
M3 Personnel body armor
Signal flare
As green as they come, straight and out of the academy. Short of stature and a baby face to boot, the silent type. Unfortunately, instead of the typical rotation or posting into squad or a platoon Nik has found himself self cycled off the roster completely and onto the CMC’s corporate allocations, purely by chance he finds himself shaved beyond regs and shipped to the outer veil, Fiorina 161. ‘Fury.’
The unit he has been assigned to slapped ‘Rookie’ on him from the first day they met and have not dropped it since. Eager to prove that he is above the cliched greenhorn banter that any one of them aside from ‘Grimm’ toss his way daily, he ignores most of it, following orders like a good soldier should, volunteering for everything without pause, even the jobs that are less savoury, like the ones on the surface. Where none of the others ever want to go, one of the privates has to be in a compression suit for whatever reason. ‘Bugs’ or something.
Last edited by wendal on Sun 08 Dec 2019, 15:07, edited 1 time in total.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Episode 2
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
The door closes in Nik’s face. ‘Mess Hall’ Etched into the metal door with a blade. He can still hear them behind it. “Rookie!” “Go on Rook!” The usual ‘BS’ He has had to put up with from others in his unit, raising a middle finger, he felt no better for it. Turning from the Mess Hall adjusting the strap to his rifle, clicking the last and moving into the adjoining corridor, passing between the large groupings of average Joe synthetics working almost everywhere, not a single human in sight. Just the same generic rubber faces and Seegson overalls.
The rookie had never seen anything quite like it. ‘Weird.’ Is his only thought, dodging past some more of their emotionless synths, glowing LED eyes leading them, all carrying large compressed gas cylinders of some kind, way above the weight any human could carry for that long. Trying to ignore the androids, that obviously to him outnumber the ‘Humans.’ He speeds up enough to catch up with Grimm who was further down the hall.
Pulling up beside him, Nik tries to keep pace with the mostly silent, among the marines. ‘Like me.’ He thinks Soldier, unfortunately almost every synthetic along the way unintentionally slows his progress. Grimm however walks straight forward with an almost limp that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Walking directly into the synthetics instead of awkwardly dancing around them, and they, all of them, simply pass by fine, not a shoulder or elbow clipped once. ‘How does he do that?’
Instead of any answer. Distracted, the rookie takes a face full of solid average Joe chest, somehow he manages to stay on his feet, rolling with the blow and twisting around the android, behind his partner. Rubbing his face. ‘Eyes front… Stupid.’ Nik berates himself, embarrassed wondering if Grimm witnessed it, he hoped not. At least it wasn’t any of the other marines with him, they wouldn’t let him live it down if they saw any such thing.
Staying behind the marine in front allows him to avoid the synth traffic and the risk of another tumble, so that’s where he stays, in Grimm's shadow. As much as he wants to march beside him as an equal, the world around him wouldn’t let that happen. They make a turn. ‘Offices.’ is where they are heading. Escort duty and guard detail, Corporals orders. ‘The usual shower or food run, but why send for the two of us when it usually takes one?’ Nik Asks himself then realises he shouldn’t be thinking about it at all. ‘An order’s an order.’ Eyes back on the back of the helmet of the marine in front, the whole thing carved up. ‘Tallied.’ To be exact, the entire surface and he has seen the front before, on and off his head. Three of the tallies are circled with the same sharp edge that was used to put all the others there.
Grimm hasn’t noticed a thing, not since receiving his orders and leaving the mess hall after gearing up, not the rookies thumbing behind him as he tightened his shoulder pad, the synthetics loudly working almost everywhere as he aligned his belt. Adams mind is on autopilot, tugging him forward, head not quite down but up, pulse rifle hanging off the Y-sling, vertically centre to his body and over the M3 vest. Right hand. ‘Good hand.’ Holding the weapon steady. What has his attention is how strange his cloned legs were feeling today, like clouds are in his thighs and a constant tickle, irritatingly so, it flares from the inner arch of his right foot, one he can’t get rid of and the sensation is constant. Grinding his teeth helps take the edge off somewhat, then through the haze of it all he spots the Corporate asset as she appears between synthetics, her head over the top of them, the women taller than most. Sarah G. Foster And stopping before walking past her completely.
The rookie stops staring at Grimms helmet and what the ‘Tally’ could be for. ‘With his name nothing good.’ Is Nik's first thought, his second is ‘Stop.’ The marine in front of him had stopped, peeking around his frame he spots the company lady opposite and steps out in full, offering her a nod and little more.
“Since when have any of you company agents moved around this place without an escort.” Grimms first words, it being the first time they haven’t met at the office, ever, and he is not one for inconsistencies. “You know there's YY chromos running around the compound.”
“As I have said before gentlemen, I can assure you the files I have on those under our employ, these YY chromos running around.” Emphasis aimed at what he had just said there. “Are nothing more than your run of the mill criminals. Carjackers at best, failed robberies at worst. I have gone through them personally.” Sarah says, mainly to Grimm since he is the only one who spoke.
“Have you met any of them?” Grimm asks, he could tell she was shaky about it all.
“No but…”
“Look any one of them in the eye and tell me that again.” Grimms sentence cuts her’s short and she looks at him blankly for a moment, he had looked them in the eye, killers and worse among them. ‘For sure.’
“I’ll add it to my schedule.” Sarah replies, eyes cold, the marine knew the look, for different reasons and he had enough of his own that he couldn’t even begin to think about someone else’s. “I am here now and you have your orders yes.” She nods with the question.
“Affirmative. Escort and guard detail, but I have to ask. Why the two of us for a job that needs one?”
Nik’s eyebrow raises without him knowing, he wondered the same thing too on his way over. “That’s because today, we have a very special assignment.” Sarah says through a smirk, making Grimm frown and leaving the rookie lost amongst them with the same raised eyebrow.
Adam knew that ruled out a food run or shower guarding duties, then the thought of the ‘Surface’ hits and nothing else is in his mind comes up. “You know for any occupation that involves the surface, unless it requires the full unit, it should be stated over the radio first.” Grimm says this because he has made sure this is the case.
“That’s right you're the Bug guy... You have to wear a suit on the surface.” Sarah says in that questiony, curious tone. She smiles, the bugs didn’t get to her and she is no gung ho soldier.
‘If only she knew.’ “Saves me the trouble of donning a compression suit and you taking off your wig.” Grimm says with a shrug, “Waste of O2 and I don’t like bugs.” ‘Simple as that.’
To be fair, they aren’t just bugs, as in one or two. Its bugs plural, as in high volume and mass. Nik's eyebrow finally falls as he watches the exchange of words between the pair, Sarah tossing what the others in the unit whisper about, only when the private who like him is not native to the squad is nowhere near. The rookie hadn’t heard much, just enough to know it has something to do with a bug hunt and a lost eye. ‘Which makes sense.’ To Nik. Grimm's white rubber and red dot is the give away. ‘But she doesn't know that.’ The rookie barely does also but of all the marines, Grimm is the only one who leaves him alone.
“Well fortunately for you and me it’s nothing up top.” Sarah can’t help but scratch her head whilst she speaks now that he brought it up. “It’s right here in the compound, just need you two to escort me there and back again. I will lead the way.” Sarah finishes and turns.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
The door closes in Nik’s face. ‘Mess Hall’ Etched into the metal door with a blade. He can still hear them behind it. “Rookie!” “Go on Rook!” The usual ‘BS’ He has had to put up with from others in his unit, raising a middle finger, he felt no better for it. Turning from the Mess Hall adjusting the strap to his rifle, clicking the last and moving into the adjoining corridor, passing between the large groupings of average Joe synthetics working almost everywhere, not a single human in sight. Just the same generic rubber faces and Seegson overalls.
The rookie had never seen anything quite like it. ‘Weird.’ Is his only thought, dodging past some more of their emotionless synths, glowing LED eyes leading them, all carrying large compressed gas cylinders of some kind, way above the weight any human could carry for that long. Trying to ignore the androids, that obviously to him outnumber the ‘Humans.’ He speeds up enough to catch up with Grimm who was further down the hall.
Pulling up beside him, Nik tries to keep pace with the mostly silent, among the marines. ‘Like me.’ He thinks Soldier, unfortunately almost every synthetic along the way unintentionally slows his progress. Grimm however walks straight forward with an almost limp that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Walking directly into the synthetics instead of awkwardly dancing around them, and they, all of them, simply pass by fine, not a shoulder or elbow clipped once. ‘How does he do that?’
Instead of any answer. Distracted, the rookie takes a face full of solid average Joe chest, somehow he manages to stay on his feet, rolling with the blow and twisting around the android, behind his partner. Rubbing his face. ‘Eyes front… Stupid.’ Nik berates himself, embarrassed wondering if Grimm witnessed it, he hoped not. At least it wasn’t any of the other marines with him, they wouldn’t let him live it down if they saw any such thing.
Staying behind the marine in front allows him to avoid the synth traffic and the risk of another tumble, so that’s where he stays, in Grimm's shadow. As much as he wants to march beside him as an equal, the world around him wouldn’t let that happen. They make a turn. ‘Offices.’ is where they are heading. Escort duty and guard detail, Corporals orders. ‘The usual shower or food run, but why send for the two of us when it usually takes one?’ Nik Asks himself then realises he shouldn’t be thinking about it at all. ‘An order’s an order.’ Eyes back on the back of the helmet of the marine in front, the whole thing carved up. ‘Tallied.’ To be exact, the entire surface and he has seen the front before, on and off his head. Three of the tallies are circled with the same sharp edge that was used to put all the others there.
Grimm hasn’t noticed a thing, not since receiving his orders and leaving the mess hall after gearing up, not the rookies thumbing behind him as he tightened his shoulder pad, the synthetics loudly working almost everywhere as he aligned his belt. Adams mind is on autopilot, tugging him forward, head not quite down but up, pulse rifle hanging off the Y-sling, vertically centre to his body and over the M3 vest. Right hand. ‘Good hand.’ Holding the weapon steady. What has his attention is how strange his cloned legs were feeling today, like clouds are in his thighs and a constant tickle, irritatingly so, it flares from the inner arch of his right foot, one he can’t get rid of and the sensation is constant. Grinding his teeth helps take the edge off somewhat, then through the haze of it all he spots the Corporate asset as she appears between synthetics, her head over the top of them, the women taller than most. Sarah G. Foster And stopping before walking past her completely.
The rookie stops staring at Grimms helmet and what the ‘Tally’ could be for. ‘With his name nothing good.’ Is Nik's first thought, his second is ‘Stop.’ The marine in front of him had stopped, peeking around his frame he spots the company lady opposite and steps out in full, offering her a nod and little more.
“Since when have any of you company agents moved around this place without an escort.” Grimms first words, it being the first time they haven’t met at the office, ever, and he is not one for inconsistencies. “You know there's YY chromos running around the compound.”
“As I have said before gentlemen, I can assure you the files I have on those under our employ, these YY chromos running around.” Emphasis aimed at what he had just said there. “Are nothing more than your run of the mill criminals. Carjackers at best, failed robberies at worst. I have gone through them personally.” Sarah says, mainly to Grimm since he is the only one who spoke.
“Have you met any of them?” Grimm asks, he could tell she was shaky about it all.
“No but…”
“Look any one of them in the eye and tell me that again.” Grimms sentence cuts her’s short and she looks at him blankly for a moment, he had looked them in the eye, killers and worse among them. ‘For sure.’
“I’ll add it to my schedule.” Sarah replies, eyes cold, the marine knew the look, for different reasons and he had enough of his own that he couldn’t even begin to think about someone else’s. “I am here now and you have your orders yes.” She nods with the question.
“Affirmative. Escort and guard detail, but I have to ask. Why the two of us for a job that needs one?”
Nik’s eyebrow raises without him knowing, he wondered the same thing too on his way over. “That’s because today, we have a very special assignment.” Sarah says through a smirk, making Grimm frown and leaving the rookie lost amongst them with the same raised eyebrow.
Adam knew that ruled out a food run or shower guarding duties, then the thought of the ‘Surface’ hits and nothing else is in his mind comes up. “You know for any occupation that involves the surface, unless it requires the full unit, it should be stated over the radio first.” Grimm says this because he has made sure this is the case.
“That’s right you're the Bug guy... You have to wear a suit on the surface.” Sarah says in that questiony, curious tone. She smiles, the bugs didn’t get to her and she is no gung ho soldier.
‘If only she knew.’ “Saves me the trouble of donning a compression suit and you taking off your wig.” Grimm says with a shrug, “Waste of O2 and I don’t like bugs.” ‘Simple as that.’
To be fair, they aren’t just bugs, as in one or two. Its bugs plural, as in high volume and mass. Nik's eyebrow finally falls as he watches the exchange of words between the pair, Sarah tossing what the others in the unit whisper about, only when the private who like him is not native to the squad is nowhere near. The rookie hadn’t heard much, just enough to know it has something to do with a bug hunt and a lost eye. ‘Which makes sense.’ To Nik. Grimm's white rubber and red dot is the give away. ‘But she doesn't know that.’ The rookie barely does also but of all the marines, Grimm is the only one who leaves him alone.
“Well fortunately for you and me it’s nothing up top.” Sarah can’t help but scratch her head whilst she speaks now that he brought it up. “It’s right here in the compound, just need you two to escort me there and back again. I will lead the way.” Sarah finishes and turns.
Last edited by wendal on Wed 11 Dec 2019, 21:39, edited 1 time in total.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
Sarah’s face is lit up by the entire screen, eyes buried in the Seegson P-DAT, scrutinising the coordinates thoroughly and the overall location it is taking them in the compound, oblivious to the darkness that surrounds her, twin beams of light shine from her escorts behind, the marines shoulder mounted HI-Beams lighting the way she leads them. Getting to the area has proved to be a little more difficult than she first thought and might still if she is reading it all correct.
Since none of the A.P.O.L.L.O network here has been updated yet, ironically by an ex con’s Spectro-graph. She is forced to work off of and refer to the old prisons archives and system grid references, because of this there is a bundle of data to work with, only a small percentage of which she understands. ‘Enough.’ Smirking. Scrolling through the mish mash of wire frame blueprints and highlighted WY jargon she can actual work with. ‘Seegson. So much simpler and more efficient.’ Sarah’s thoughts on such a matter, whether that is the case or just years of company indoctrination is a matter of opinion.
Nik walks beside his partner for this assignment and behind the company agent. Into the ‘Correctional Units.’ Further into the compound than he has ever been, he or any of the marines for that matter. Wondering what she needs escorting to and why before remembering he shouldn’t be thinking about it, at all, let alone asking anything, so he keeps his mouth shut. Looking down at his boots, they “Splash” through the frequently consistent pools of water appearing in the long corridors both the damper and deeper they go.
Glancing at Grimm, eyes front, his own boot’s seem to naturally avoid the puddles. With a limp that doesn’t slow him, it carries him almost silently forward, gliding almost, over them. Another among many of the rookies. ‘How does he do that?’ Distracted, this time he spots the thick pipe on his left even in the low torch light, tucking his arm in so he doesn’t march right into it, allowing him to walk beside the marine to his right. ‘Equal.’ He chimes in his head. This world allowing such a thing for now.
Grimm spies the back of the company asset ahead, the tall women still in uniform, shoulder pads causing her upper frame into a tight broadly cut V, his eyes only go lower because of the “Clippity!” “Cloppity” Of her choice in footwear, black heels. On them the agent has led them deeper into the compound, deeper than him or any of the others have been before. The dark corridors of the correctional units and Hub areas are places he didn’t know or care too. ‘Why?’ Is always way more important, but he waits to ask, instead he briefly mulls it over, knowing these areas specifically had all been tagged for the YY chromos.
The marines are to stay away from these set zones unless there presence is required in them. As in one of the cons poses a risk to any investments in the compound. ‘What kind of investment could be down here?’ Another question Grimm asks himself, shining the HI-Beam torch on his shoulder around the passage, dragging the circle of light from the wet floor to the dripping wall, then the decrepit ceiling other grimier wall and back down to the same floor, avoiding the next pool of water that’ll catch the light and send it back his way, eye flares make the dark places darker.
Adams cloned limbs were now feeling a little better, not so fuzzy and sea leggy to be on, which is good. “So why are we down here?” Adam asks, he couldn’t wait any longer, eyes cutting through the black beyond his torch light, always on the lookout for something moving in the dark, force of habit as he waits for a response.
“You know for a marine, you ask a lot of questions.” Sarah says without looking back, fingernails loudly tapping away on the touch screen of the P-DAT.
“I Didn’t once... Had nightmares ever since.” Grimm's reply.
“Very amusing private.” Sarah says with a light chuckle. “I’m sure, there can’t be much that scares your bunch.” Face still locked on the screen in her hands. ‘Oblivious.’
“You’d be surprised.” As the three continue on.
“We are almost arriving at the first location…” Sarah says slowing down a little and Grimm adjusts his pace to match, the Rookie oversteps ahead, moving them out of sync. Something he hoped only he was aware of as he jolts back in formation beside his partner.
Sarah is sure of it. “ We are going to have to climb. How are you with heights?” She says now that she has stopped dead in her tracks, Grimm too, followed by Nik, just off the mark and he falls back in line just like before, hurriedly.
“Better than the whole bug thing, if that’s what your getting at.”
“That just leaves you?” Sarah say spinning round and lowering the P-DAT for the first time, looking directly at Nik.
“Me?” He asks, since when is he asked, nodding. “Yeah. I’m down with heights.” A forced nervous smile. “How high we talking?”
“Shouldn’t be more than that.” Raising one arm and a finger, pointing them upward to the ceiling. The rookie follows. “The… Ceiling.” He says, Sarah pauses, if she didn’t have a cold glare, she would be frown.
“The ventilation network.” Grimm says. Both Nik and Sarah look at him, only her face changes and then only a little.That cold glare still there, only now it’s just less glarey.
‘Right… Stupid’ The rookie chewing himself for his lack of common sense. “Oh, okay. Well that’s not high at all.” Nik says looking up again this time wondering past the ceiling and into the ducts, before the next ‘Why’ can form in his skull.
The “Why up there?” Is asked by Grimm. “None of it can be stable or safe to travel through.. Me and him are fully kitted out.” Nodding the Rookies way “We’re a little on the heavy side to be crawling around in some vents wouldn’t you think.” His look inviting her to agree with the obvious.
“Oh please. The whole system is man-sized. This made it easier for the prisoners to clean them out during its glory days instead of hiring expensive technology, air scrubbers or an outside firm. It’s all reinforced with concrete holdings.” Sarah replies, at this point she had backed up a little more, then turns walking down the next corridor. This one from the get go has a heavier dripping sound ambience than the others, more prevalent with each step further forward, more leaky pipes and drippy god knows what, more of that which they will possibly have to dodge or duck under. Wondering if she should have brought an umbrella or at least an overall, but she rushed out of the office to quick to think about anything other than the task at hand. One that may benefit her and the company, mainly her.
‘Blood.’ That telltale smell hits his nose and he recognises it immediately, that copper scent faintly trailing the air. “Blood.” Grimm says as quickly as its registered by him.
“Where.” Sarah says almost jumping out of her pantsuit, that fumble juggle of the P-DAT so she doesn’t drop it on the concrete. The Rookies HI-Beam instantly becomes more animated moving around way more than before, searching as they come up to the next junction.
The company agent stops. “I can smell it.” Grimm says, the tips of two fingers touching each nostril briefly.
“Like some kind of bloodhound?” Sarah says still looking at him up and down, then around on the floor and back over to him. The Rookie would like to know too, not only so he could use it as a soldier, but because all he can smell is this ‘Stinking’ compound, and it does not smell good.
“Not exactly…” Grimm replies.
The company agent takes a few steps backwards. “Bleep.” “Bleep.” “Bleep.” The Seegson P-DAT lights up. They had arrived at the first location, mid junction, the first spectro-graph is up above them in the ventilation system for sure. “What the...” Sarah mutters, something splatters off her shoulder pad, droplets into her cheek, enough that she backs up to avoid it and ends up in a constant stream, drenching that side of her pant suit having now walked fully into whatever it is leaking down from the ceiling above, coming down from the dark.
Two HI-Beams light her up as she starts frantically moving away from the source of ‘warm’ wet. ‘Red?’ Splashed down the one side of her pantsuit, in her hair and dripping down from the ceiling. ‘The ventilation ducts.’ The rookies beam stays there whilst Grimm's own moves on. Blood?’ Nik sees it, the flow of red coming down from the ceiling, dripping down the wall and joining the pool already on the floor. “Pop!” And “Scrape!” Makes the Rookie and Sarah jump, following a burst of intense light, illuminating everything in a blinding crimson hue, the “Hiss!” of the flare an afterthought, the blood now a shade of deep black and glistening in the blaze.
“Looks like one of those carjackers at best, failed robberies at worst decided to take it up a notch huh.” Looking at Sarah.
“Someones dead up there.” Grimm says. Sarah now a little pale, takes off her bloody blazer quickly and starts wiping her fake hair before throwing it aside. Continuing to wipe her face further with her sleeve, turning away from the marines she starts to “Spit” just in case any of it got in her mouth. Trying to calm herself, knowing the marine is right.
“You someone is not just injured up there?” Sarah asks. Grimm's face alone said it all, like his name before him, although even to Nik her question seemed possible, Grimm could see it in the lads face also, both of them waiting for a hopeful maybe. ‘Don’t do that,’
“HELLO!” Grimm yells jump scaring his two companions again. “USCMC... ANYONE NOT DEAD UP THERE!” He returns his gaze to Sarah before anyone could possibly reply, then Nik, and he doesn’t get one, which is what he was expecting. ‘Nothing.’ “Not with that much blood down here from up there, nobodies not.” Turning away to investigate it all as if his point was made with anything he just said or did. “This is recent...” He adds this extra, not to set the pair on edge even more, but it does.
Grimm slings his rifle, grabbing the M314 motion tracker at his side and activates it. That default sonic “Blip.”....”Blip.” Instantly turns into a ring, the audible warning of ‘Movement.’ “Looks like one… Possibly two moving targets are on the outer perimeter, almost out of range.... Heading... East? Looks like whoever's done this isn’t planning on sticking around to explain. Guilty much.”
“Not the innocent first sort then.” Sarah smirks, neither was she.
“With some people you can just tell.” Grimm replies. “Right, Elson.” Nik snaps too, it’s not often he is addressed with his actual surname and he was still looking at all the blood, trying not to think about how it came to be and not wanting that to happen to ‘Me.’ Gripping his weapon tight, he nods. ‘Yeah?’
“Take the company asset back to base, I’ll go after whoever made this mess. Return with another marine. Don’t bother the corporals unless you have to, a private will do, Tell them we got a runner, and that its a standard snatch and grab. You can catch up, bring comms, use the motion tracker to find me in the east side of the compound, IFF trackers on.” Grimm says to Nik and the Rookie had not said a word, just nodding along with everything said, all of it. Nik didn’t want to miss a word.
Turning to Sarah. “Whats east?” Grimm asks.
“..W. What?”
“East, what’s east?” Grimm asks again.
“W.. Ww..W.” Sarah sputters
“Why would anyone be headed east, that’s in the opposite direction to the landing pads. The only vehicles available to get any thing or one off world, psycho convicts included and they are going the wrong way” Grimm says.
“Wait!” Sarah finally manages to spit it out and cuts him off, the marines speech holding her own in, arms parting the air and the marine stops, the Rookie remains silent as he has done this whole time.
“What?”
“Did I give the order private?” The company agent says, the colour had returned to her cheeks, the cold glare had never left, Grimm pauses confused, he was simply listing the best course of action for them and planning accordingly. “We still have a job to do.” Her tone now oddly authoritarian than before.
“I know that's what….”
“Uh… That's what I'm trying to tell you...” Cutting him off again, with that same tone. “We still have a job to do. Right here” Both fingers pointing. ‘Here. “There is a device up there with data on it, that is beneficial to the company and the salvage operation here on Fiorina 161...” Sarah says this and the hairs on Adam's cloned limbs stand on end. ‘Beneficial to the company.’ He has heard that one before, darkness and screaming soon followed. Instead of any of that he replies with. “Fury. Nobody calls it that.”
Sarah, interrupted continues. “Another one is further up that way, not to far from here.” Pointing in that direction. Grimm knew she was pointing north, also away from the possible murder suspect or two, going to make finding them later more difficult than its worth.” ‘But then the company doesn’t care, not about the CMC.’ “We have to retrieve them first, then you can do your snatch and grabs or what have you... And to answer your previous question, nothing, there is nothing east, east is as far as you can get away from any of the compound and the salvage op. It leads via bottleneck out to the surface in fact, towards the bay.”
“Anything in the bay area?” Grimm asks.
“An old, long abandoned Tide Keeper facility, used to keep most of an acidic, oily ocean out of this area once, ninety percent rust now, nothing salvageable from the reports, a total black site bust.” Sarah’s answers do little to help Grimm add motive for the cons and their chosen direction.
“I’ve found a way up.” Sarah says. The marines turn to look at her, the company agent down to her grey blouse, shoulder pads on that too, shining the micro torch from the P-DAT up, there is a few railing ladders and access hatch to the ducts above. Looks rusty, but half the seam is already open so with a little elbow grease it will budge. There's a long pause, Grimm knew what for but he was waiting, the Rookie is waiting for him so he knew what to do and Sarah is waiting for either one of them to do what she was expecting them to do. Go up there.
“Well?” Sarah says arms out asking now.
“Hey, escort and guard detail lady.” Both arms out. “That’s it. You have been escorted, now, we will stand guard.”
“Wow. Your going to be that Jarhead.” Sarah says as she moves closer to the rails past them both, Grimm looking her way expressionless and Nik avoids her gaze completely. Inspecting the hatch, she is tall enough to reach, better chance of reaching it than the smaller younger marine anyway. “Hold this.” She practically pushes the P-DAT into Grimm's grip with resent and the marine tosses the flare aside to take it. Sarah rolls her sleeves up and removes her watch. “And this.” As much as she hated the timepiece she passes with care. When Sarah returns that thing will be put on a little lighter.
Finally she removes her black heels, placing them in a corner, glad she always wears a pair of Seegson smart socks, the material recognises when its not in a typical shoe and adjusts accordingly, depending on the surface one walks on anywhere from slippers, sandals and flats. Right now they are plimsolls, rubber sole for grip, which she uses to tippy toe up the wall, arms climbing, hand over hand of each rail like a ladder upward. Some of her gym membership from back home shining through, pulling herself up to the access hatch. Even Grimm nods a little, expecting her to whine like any corporate lapdog he watches as she yanks the access hatch open in one pull, keeping her balance too. Grimm walks over and under her, and she looks down at him, as he looks up at her.
“Escort duty.” With a nod and she nods too ,climbing up and into the ducts. “Elson.” Grimm says, the Rookies actual surname again. ‘Twice today.’
“Yep.” He replies.
Grimm points up, letting him know he is going up and that he is to stay down here.
“You have a motion tracker, no need to stay frosty. If they change direction and start heading our way give us a shout.” Grimm says and the Rookie nods in agreement.
The marine jumps easily reaching the access hatch, the weight of his armour and rifle hanging off of him causes little strain on limbs not really his own, cloned counterparts. ‘Eerie at times.’ He thought pulling himself up and into the ducts.
Nik watches him disappear, then spins his light around with a long whistle. ‘Great.’ Slinging his rifle after unclipping the holster to his pistol. ‘Just in case.’ Grabbing his motion tracker hanging at his side and turning it on, getting the IFF beacon from Grimm above and a dot for the company lady. On the very edges of the display are the one or two ish dots heading east, probable murder suspects. And then something else. Another dot appears, barely registering… East? Near the other one, or two, small, fast moving. It’s there long enough that he cup slaps the side of the device, which usually works with any false positive. It seems to do the trick because when he looks again the readings have returned to normal.
2183. December 04.
Sarah’s face is lit up by the entire screen, eyes buried in the Seegson P-DAT, scrutinising the coordinates thoroughly and the overall location it is taking them in the compound, oblivious to the darkness that surrounds her, twin beams of light shine from her escorts behind, the marines shoulder mounted HI-Beams lighting the way she leads them. Getting to the area has proved to be a little more difficult than she first thought and might still if she is reading it all correct.
Since none of the A.P.O.L.L.O network here has been updated yet, ironically by an ex con’s Spectro-graph. She is forced to work off of and refer to the old prisons archives and system grid references, because of this there is a bundle of data to work with, only a small percentage of which she understands. ‘Enough.’ Smirking. Scrolling through the mish mash of wire frame blueprints and highlighted WY jargon she can actual work with. ‘Seegson. So much simpler and more efficient.’ Sarah’s thoughts on such a matter, whether that is the case or just years of company indoctrination is a matter of opinion.
Nik walks beside his partner for this assignment and behind the company agent. Into the ‘Correctional Units.’ Further into the compound than he has ever been, he or any of the marines for that matter. Wondering what she needs escorting to and why before remembering he shouldn’t be thinking about it, at all, let alone asking anything, so he keeps his mouth shut. Looking down at his boots, they “Splash” through the frequently consistent pools of water appearing in the long corridors both the damper and deeper they go.
Glancing at Grimm, eyes front, his own boot’s seem to naturally avoid the puddles. With a limp that doesn’t slow him, it carries him almost silently forward, gliding almost, over them. Another among many of the rookies. ‘How does he do that?’ Distracted, this time he spots the thick pipe on his left even in the low torch light, tucking his arm in so he doesn’t march right into it, allowing him to walk beside the marine to his right. ‘Equal.’ He chimes in his head. This world allowing such a thing for now.
Grimm spies the back of the company asset ahead, the tall women still in uniform, shoulder pads causing her upper frame into a tight broadly cut V, his eyes only go lower because of the “Clippity!” “Cloppity” Of her choice in footwear, black heels. On them the agent has led them deeper into the compound, deeper than him or any of the others have been before. The dark corridors of the correctional units and Hub areas are places he didn’t know or care too. ‘Why?’ Is always way more important, but he waits to ask, instead he briefly mulls it over, knowing these areas specifically had all been tagged for the YY chromos.
The marines are to stay away from these set zones unless there presence is required in them. As in one of the cons poses a risk to any investments in the compound. ‘What kind of investment could be down here?’ Another question Grimm asks himself, shining the HI-Beam torch on his shoulder around the passage, dragging the circle of light from the wet floor to the dripping wall, then the decrepit ceiling other grimier wall and back down to the same floor, avoiding the next pool of water that’ll catch the light and send it back his way, eye flares make the dark places darker.
Adams cloned limbs were now feeling a little better, not so fuzzy and sea leggy to be on, which is good. “So why are we down here?” Adam asks, he couldn’t wait any longer, eyes cutting through the black beyond his torch light, always on the lookout for something moving in the dark, force of habit as he waits for a response.
“You know for a marine, you ask a lot of questions.” Sarah says without looking back, fingernails loudly tapping away on the touch screen of the P-DAT.
“I Didn’t once... Had nightmares ever since.” Grimm's reply.
“Very amusing private.” Sarah says with a light chuckle. “I’m sure, there can’t be much that scares your bunch.” Face still locked on the screen in her hands. ‘Oblivious.’
“You’d be surprised.” As the three continue on.
“We are almost arriving at the first location…” Sarah says slowing down a little and Grimm adjusts his pace to match, the Rookie oversteps ahead, moving them out of sync. Something he hoped only he was aware of as he jolts back in formation beside his partner.
Sarah is sure of it. “ We are going to have to climb. How are you with heights?” She says now that she has stopped dead in her tracks, Grimm too, followed by Nik, just off the mark and he falls back in line just like before, hurriedly.
“Better than the whole bug thing, if that’s what your getting at.”
“That just leaves you?” Sarah say spinning round and lowering the P-DAT for the first time, looking directly at Nik.
“Me?” He asks, since when is he asked, nodding. “Yeah. I’m down with heights.” A forced nervous smile. “How high we talking?”
“Shouldn’t be more than that.” Raising one arm and a finger, pointing them upward to the ceiling. The rookie follows. “The… Ceiling.” He says, Sarah pauses, if she didn’t have a cold glare, she would be frown.
“The ventilation network.” Grimm says. Both Nik and Sarah look at him, only her face changes and then only a little.That cold glare still there, only now it’s just less glarey.
‘Right… Stupid’ The rookie chewing himself for his lack of common sense. “Oh, okay. Well that’s not high at all.” Nik says looking up again this time wondering past the ceiling and into the ducts, before the next ‘Why’ can form in his skull.
The “Why up there?” Is asked by Grimm. “None of it can be stable or safe to travel through.. Me and him are fully kitted out.” Nodding the Rookies way “We’re a little on the heavy side to be crawling around in some vents wouldn’t you think.” His look inviting her to agree with the obvious.
“Oh please. The whole system is man-sized. This made it easier for the prisoners to clean them out during its glory days instead of hiring expensive technology, air scrubbers or an outside firm. It’s all reinforced with concrete holdings.” Sarah replies, at this point she had backed up a little more, then turns walking down the next corridor. This one from the get go has a heavier dripping sound ambience than the others, more prevalent with each step further forward, more leaky pipes and drippy god knows what, more of that which they will possibly have to dodge or duck under. Wondering if she should have brought an umbrella or at least an overall, but she rushed out of the office to quick to think about anything other than the task at hand. One that may benefit her and the company, mainly her.
‘Blood.’ That telltale smell hits his nose and he recognises it immediately, that copper scent faintly trailing the air. “Blood.” Grimm says as quickly as its registered by him.
“Where.” Sarah says almost jumping out of her pantsuit, that fumble juggle of the P-DAT so she doesn’t drop it on the concrete. The Rookies HI-Beam instantly becomes more animated moving around way more than before, searching as they come up to the next junction.
The company agent stops. “I can smell it.” Grimm says, the tips of two fingers touching each nostril briefly.
“Like some kind of bloodhound?” Sarah says still looking at him up and down, then around on the floor and back over to him. The Rookie would like to know too, not only so he could use it as a soldier, but because all he can smell is this ‘Stinking’ compound, and it does not smell good.
“Not exactly…” Grimm replies.
The company agent takes a few steps backwards. “Bleep.” “Bleep.” “Bleep.” The Seegson P-DAT lights up. They had arrived at the first location, mid junction, the first spectro-graph is up above them in the ventilation system for sure. “What the...” Sarah mutters, something splatters off her shoulder pad, droplets into her cheek, enough that she backs up to avoid it and ends up in a constant stream, drenching that side of her pant suit having now walked fully into whatever it is leaking down from the ceiling above, coming down from the dark.
Two HI-Beams light her up as she starts frantically moving away from the source of ‘warm’ wet. ‘Red?’ Splashed down the one side of her pantsuit, in her hair and dripping down from the ceiling. ‘The ventilation ducts.’ The rookies beam stays there whilst Grimm's own moves on. Blood?’ Nik sees it, the flow of red coming down from the ceiling, dripping down the wall and joining the pool already on the floor. “Pop!” And “Scrape!” Makes the Rookie and Sarah jump, following a burst of intense light, illuminating everything in a blinding crimson hue, the “Hiss!” of the flare an afterthought, the blood now a shade of deep black and glistening in the blaze.
“Looks like one of those carjackers at best, failed robberies at worst decided to take it up a notch huh.” Looking at Sarah.
“Someones dead up there.” Grimm says. Sarah now a little pale, takes off her bloody blazer quickly and starts wiping her fake hair before throwing it aside. Continuing to wipe her face further with her sleeve, turning away from the marines she starts to “Spit” just in case any of it got in her mouth. Trying to calm herself, knowing the marine is right.
“You someone is not just injured up there?” Sarah asks. Grimm's face alone said it all, like his name before him, although even to Nik her question seemed possible, Grimm could see it in the lads face also, both of them waiting for a hopeful maybe. ‘Don’t do that,’
“HELLO!” Grimm yells jump scaring his two companions again. “USCMC... ANYONE NOT DEAD UP THERE!” He returns his gaze to Sarah before anyone could possibly reply, then Nik, and he doesn’t get one, which is what he was expecting. ‘Nothing.’ “Not with that much blood down here from up there, nobodies not.” Turning away to investigate it all as if his point was made with anything he just said or did. “This is recent...” He adds this extra, not to set the pair on edge even more, but it does.
Grimm slings his rifle, grabbing the M314 motion tracker at his side and activates it. That default sonic “Blip.”....”Blip.” Instantly turns into a ring, the audible warning of ‘Movement.’ “Looks like one… Possibly two moving targets are on the outer perimeter, almost out of range.... Heading... East? Looks like whoever's done this isn’t planning on sticking around to explain. Guilty much.”
“Not the innocent first sort then.” Sarah smirks, neither was she.
“With some people you can just tell.” Grimm replies. “Right, Elson.” Nik snaps too, it’s not often he is addressed with his actual surname and he was still looking at all the blood, trying not to think about how it came to be and not wanting that to happen to ‘Me.’ Gripping his weapon tight, he nods. ‘Yeah?’
“Take the company asset back to base, I’ll go after whoever made this mess. Return with another marine. Don’t bother the corporals unless you have to, a private will do, Tell them we got a runner, and that its a standard snatch and grab. You can catch up, bring comms, use the motion tracker to find me in the east side of the compound, IFF trackers on.” Grimm says to Nik and the Rookie had not said a word, just nodding along with everything said, all of it. Nik didn’t want to miss a word.
Turning to Sarah. “Whats east?” Grimm asks.
“..W. What?”
“East, what’s east?” Grimm asks again.
“W.. Ww..W.” Sarah sputters
“Why would anyone be headed east, that’s in the opposite direction to the landing pads. The only vehicles available to get any thing or one off world, psycho convicts included and they are going the wrong way” Grimm says.
“Wait!” Sarah finally manages to spit it out and cuts him off, the marines speech holding her own in, arms parting the air and the marine stops, the Rookie remains silent as he has done this whole time.
“What?”
“Did I give the order private?” The company agent says, the colour had returned to her cheeks, the cold glare had never left, Grimm pauses confused, he was simply listing the best course of action for them and planning accordingly. “We still have a job to do.” Her tone now oddly authoritarian than before.
“I know that's what….”
“Uh… That's what I'm trying to tell you...” Cutting him off again, with that same tone. “We still have a job to do. Right here” Both fingers pointing. ‘Here. “There is a device up there with data on it, that is beneficial to the company and the salvage operation here on Fiorina 161...” Sarah says this and the hairs on Adam's cloned limbs stand on end. ‘Beneficial to the company.’ He has heard that one before, darkness and screaming soon followed. Instead of any of that he replies with. “Fury. Nobody calls it that.”
Sarah, interrupted continues. “Another one is further up that way, not to far from here.” Pointing in that direction. Grimm knew she was pointing north, also away from the possible murder suspect or two, going to make finding them later more difficult than its worth.” ‘But then the company doesn’t care, not about the CMC.’ “We have to retrieve them first, then you can do your snatch and grabs or what have you... And to answer your previous question, nothing, there is nothing east, east is as far as you can get away from any of the compound and the salvage op. It leads via bottleneck out to the surface in fact, towards the bay.”
“Anything in the bay area?” Grimm asks.
“An old, long abandoned Tide Keeper facility, used to keep most of an acidic, oily ocean out of this area once, ninety percent rust now, nothing salvageable from the reports, a total black site bust.” Sarah’s answers do little to help Grimm add motive for the cons and their chosen direction.
“I’ve found a way up.” Sarah says. The marines turn to look at her, the company agent down to her grey blouse, shoulder pads on that too, shining the micro torch from the P-DAT up, there is a few railing ladders and access hatch to the ducts above. Looks rusty, but half the seam is already open so with a little elbow grease it will budge. There's a long pause, Grimm knew what for but he was waiting, the Rookie is waiting for him so he knew what to do and Sarah is waiting for either one of them to do what she was expecting them to do. Go up there.
“Well?” Sarah says arms out asking now.
“Hey, escort and guard detail lady.” Both arms out. “That’s it. You have been escorted, now, we will stand guard.”
“Wow. Your going to be that Jarhead.” Sarah says as she moves closer to the rails past them both, Grimm looking her way expressionless and Nik avoids her gaze completely. Inspecting the hatch, she is tall enough to reach, better chance of reaching it than the smaller younger marine anyway. “Hold this.” She practically pushes the P-DAT into Grimm's grip with resent and the marine tosses the flare aside to take it. Sarah rolls her sleeves up and removes her watch. “And this.” As much as she hated the timepiece she passes with care. When Sarah returns that thing will be put on a little lighter.
Finally she removes her black heels, placing them in a corner, glad she always wears a pair of Seegson smart socks, the material recognises when its not in a typical shoe and adjusts accordingly, depending on the surface one walks on anywhere from slippers, sandals and flats. Right now they are plimsolls, rubber sole for grip, which she uses to tippy toe up the wall, arms climbing, hand over hand of each rail like a ladder upward. Some of her gym membership from back home shining through, pulling herself up to the access hatch. Even Grimm nods a little, expecting her to whine like any corporate lapdog he watches as she yanks the access hatch open in one pull, keeping her balance too. Grimm walks over and under her, and she looks down at him, as he looks up at her.
“Escort duty.” With a nod and she nods too ,climbing up and into the ducts. “Elson.” Grimm says, the Rookies actual surname again. ‘Twice today.’
“Yep.” He replies.
Grimm points up, letting him know he is going up and that he is to stay down here.
“You have a motion tracker, no need to stay frosty. If they change direction and start heading our way give us a shout.” Grimm says and the Rookie nods in agreement.
The marine jumps easily reaching the access hatch, the weight of his armour and rifle hanging off of him causes little strain on limbs not really his own, cloned counterparts. ‘Eerie at times.’ He thought pulling himself up and into the ducts.
Nik watches him disappear, then spins his light around with a long whistle. ‘Great.’ Slinging his rifle after unclipping the holster to his pistol. ‘Just in case.’ Grabbing his motion tracker hanging at his side and turning it on, getting the IFF beacon from Grimm above and a dot for the company lady. On the very edges of the display are the one or two ish dots heading east, probable murder suspects. And then something else. Another dot appears, barely registering… East? Near the other one, or two, small, fast moving. It’s there long enough that he cup slaps the side of the device, which usually works with any false positive. It seems to do the trick because when he looks again the readings have returned to normal.
Last edited by wendal on Sun 08 Dec 2019, 11:12, edited 1 time in total.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
Billy the rat bastard, the irony of his namesake lost on him as he scurries around the ventilation ducts in the dark. Another lost, is that he is carrying the ex con William Allen, helping him along, carrying a person whom he wants dead, just not right now, more specifically he wants to put him somewhere else to die. ‘Solitary.’ The thoughts alone of that blackened hell are enough to send his criminally chaotic mind into a spin, causing confusion.
‘Been here before?’ He thinks, unsure even more if he is lost and backtracking by accident, the scuffle with William turning him around worse than he first thought, or maybe he is just subconsciously avoiding the one location in the galaxy he never wanted to see again. Either way, for William and William only, Billy is willing to make a big goddamn exception, so again he runs through the trail he had remembered from the layouts in his head, and again they are not helping.
Another factor is that things had changed up here in the dank dark ventilation systems since Billy’s time on fury, the area his lot of convicts used to frequent must have been rocked by some sort of large fiery explosion, that’s what it looked like to him at least. Entering the ducts from where he knew too, the way he knew how to, led him and his not so dead partner at the time, the criminal Drace, up and through the chewed, bent pipes and ducts. From the start the area was torn up, dented. Metal all bloated and swollen, concussive forces having swept through the passages in one wave, this forced him to go around and into others. Ducts he did not know, leading them at the time around and toward the compound, closer to William, until they found him.
Billy didn’t know much about explosives, but he knew enough about fire and the like to know that something heavy went down across a large stretch of the network, the whole inner system they had walked through was pretty much scorched black, covered in soot with a weird, pungent odour laced in the air in all of the passages throughout, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, the smell that is, but he recognised it.
Looking about the tunnel he is in. Nothing comes to him at all and Billy drops William without any care, sending his body slumping down to the pipe floor. “Err…” Comes from the wounded ex cons mouth with a “Cough” of blood also.
“Shut the fuck up! You did this…” Billy says, reluctantly he clicks the wrist attachment to the Seegson spectro-graph. Activating it, the convict begins to pace from one side of the tunnel to the other, a very short back and forth. “Pitter.” “Pattering.” In puddles at his feet. Billy did not want to give his position away until he had done what he came here to do and was clear of any wrongdoing, now his hand is forced, all so he can get some form of bearing as to his current position in the compound.
Switching it on, the device whirrs to life with the typical sonar “Blip.” This resounds at the also typical two minute intervals, the first of which has come and gone. The basic training he received in its use lets him know the ‘Bloody’ thing is on. “Blip.” In fact, it is already mapping the area from his exact location, the percentage bar on the wrist attachment heads up display completely fills up and “Pings.” Billy didn’t care, so he ignores all of it, instead switching straight to a compass and some old archive data on the system, all to get a proper bearing, still pacing he waits for it to load. “Bleep.”
‘East!’ They were just about to drift off course, hating the sudden need of the corporate branded device. ‘Any corpo brand!’ Billy begins to map out his route, frustratingly again. “Bleep.” ‘No.’ He knew that section had been blown open in some sort of blast, scrolling along, the display too small for the information he is forcing its screen to use. ‘No.’ That leads back towards the compound, not where he wanted to be at all. ‘There.’ “Bleep.” ‘What is that.’ Billy finally noticing the typical “Blip.” Has been replaced by a new one. A “Bleep.” Tapping the tech. ‘?’ Confused as he moves. ‘This thing broken?’ Looking at the display, nothing but the out of focus old WY blueprint that he is using. Billy finishes planning out the way. “Bleep.” Shutting off the device the second he is sure he has it locked down in his head.
Barely sat up, hunched sideways leaning on an elbow, and desperately craving a cigarette or two dozen. Every so often a single red droplet falls from the cloth tied around his neck, a little too tightly. ‘He has been blacking out for most of Billy’s trip, coming too at sporadic moments only, when his body was picked up, or thrown about, anything involving being dragged further away from his pay cheque. ‘For fucksake…’ William recognised the sound though, rousing him a little more, as does his wound. The ‘Bleep’ coming from Billy's tech just moments ago, the one the convict himself was so obviously oblivious to, otherwise he would probably be in more of a hurry, that is if he doesn’t want any witnesses.
The ‘Bleep.’ For. ‘Lifeform detected.’ Suggests that just might happen. The range of the device is supposed to be piss poor, so whomever it is, they are somewhere nearby. Not many times in his life has William been thankful for anyone other than himself, if the audible alert is correct, that may change. There is someone else up here with them. Could be the marines… ‘No.’ William knew better. Most likely it’ll be another convict. ‘Yeah.’ Doesn’t matter though, as long as they cross paths, this will flag up, which might bring others right to them. That's a ‘Maybe.’ Holding his throat, swallowing is next to impossible, each one a bolt of lightning from his wounded neck. As always. ‘I’m on my own.’ Well until billy leaves him that way. ‘Not looking so good.
Billy steps over frustrated. “Get up! Your legs are fine.” He snarls standing over him, the only time he will ever actual tower over him. Even slumped down, Williams height still brings him up to Billy’s stomach. “Up.” Billy says again and William slowly looks that way, one side of his vision fuzzy, the other too, focusing until it is staring down the barrel of a bolt gun, inches from his face and in Billy’s hand.
“Go on... Shoot me.” William says through a smokers smile, yellow and smug. “Either way... My bodies being carried... All the way out to that shit hole.” He ends spitting blood, splattering Billy’s front, who retaliates by punting the tip of the boltgun forward into his face and cracking his nose. “Argh…” Williams head hits the tunnel wall and his right hand comes up to catch the first nostril that flows red, the other is quick to follow but he doesn't even bother to raise his left to catch it, or any of it, instead letting the blood flow flatteringly down the front of his overalls.
Shining the torch light on his head mount directly into Williams now bloodied face. “GET THE FUCK UP!” Billy screams, the ex cons nose flowing freely, his only reply is to smile another toothy grin, bloodied face with some of that red now flowing down over his mouth and into his teeth. Did he really think William was going to make it easy for him.
‘Nope.’
Billy goes to strike him again but stops. “Nah. I’ll wait.” Leaning down to grab him by one arm and pulling his body towards him.
“AHH.” Hurting William in the process as his body is shifted around, neck included, all so that Billy can grab his other arm and pull, dragging the ex con along.
“Just so you know, once we’re topside... I’m going to make you regret what you did to Drace..” Billy says trying not to think about the guy who has been at his hip for so very long, and now he’s gone. ‘‘Because of him.’ And himself, ignoring the fact that it was his idea to come here in the first place.
“Boo... Fucking hoo…” Talking hurt, but this was worth saying. “This world alone is better off.” William croaks. Not a single reason he could think of that would stand against exactly how he felt. “Drace… deserved it…. Just like the old man. Just like you.”
“Me…. Hahaha” Billy chuckles and stops for a moment and a breather “I’m the only one of us in this place you haven’t stuck with that fucking thing.” Pointing at is injured neck. “Where’d you get the idea for that anyways.” Returning to the slow pace of dragging him along. “ Was it Franko?”
“Yeah.”
“Kitchen tray right?”
William just nods. “ The metal ones were the best, those plastic ones they changed them to were... Useless. Too brittle.” Billy continues as he continues to drag the ex cons body, pulling it through the current tunnel.
“Didn’t I stick him too… Ha.. Ah…” William says.
“Very fucking funny… Got your one in my back pocket, I’ll show you how to use it properly when we arrive at your new wing. None of that foo foo shit for you again like back in hub six… Well. You do know what I’m getting at a little I suppose. But then... You only stayed a week. Try four years…” Billy’s smile turning sinister. ‘Your about to become a lifer.” Billy says the term used for those whom back in the day were sent to Solitary indefinitely. Pulling and straining, moving backwards towards a tighter section of the current passage, this one is a little wetter too as Williams boots splash into a puddle and then through it.
Looking over his own shoulders, one after the other as he moves dragging the ex con in his hands Billy’s face turns to look again and this time there beside him instead of the tunnel wall or some piping, its some kind of large. ‘Insect! Biggest! Fucking! Weirdest! Looking Bug!’ He has ever seen in his life, thinking he had seen them all on Fury 161 alone, the lice aside, insects are by far the most widespread organisms down here on the planet. ‘But this? Nothing like this!.’ Startled by the sudden appearance of this literal ‘Freak!’ of nature coming out of nowhere, some creeping crawling nightmare, right there in front of him. Billy drops William, practically throwing his limbs down to the ground as he recoils back in terror.
Four of its eight webbed, long, spider-like fingers raise, the creature like a pair of skeletal hands fused together shifts reacting to Billy’s movement. Two of those fingertips arched, poised and ready to strike are serrated, it follows him as he moves, spindly legs. “Skittering.” With two large air bladders at the back of its lightly chitinous body, each spotty breathing sac sits either side of its thick powerful spine like tail. Which itself is arched over its large body, bladed tip aimed right at him like some macabre scorpion. Billy backs up into the tunnel wall right behind him. The creature is a flat tone brown, almost beige, several large spine like bristles cover its back. ‘What the fuck is that thing?’ Raising the boltgun freaked, disgusted and shocked all at once. ‘He had seen some shit before, but this?’ It’s taking the cake.
The creature twitches quick and its spine like tail lashes out like lightning. “Chink” Its bladed tip sounds striking the boltgun that was threatening it, the construction tool goes flying, landing with a “Thud!” Somewhere it shouldn’t, away from him, Billy looks at his hand still aimed at the creature, now empty. ‘Fingers Missing!’ Followed by a steady flow of blood from such perfectly clean cuts, clutching that hand with his other one he “AHHHH!” Starts to scream, pressing himself up against the tunnel wall still behind him.
William during some of the above had rolled, splashing in the wet onto his front, lifting himself up, his body out of it, front of his overalls dripping. Wondering why Billy is screaming all of a sudden. ‘Hurt himself hopefully.... Hot pipe, impaled on something?...’ Whatever it is, he will not help him. The ex con lifts his head, looking up towards where Billy is, torchlight aimed at something opposite that has him shocked. William cannot see anything really from such a low angle, then the construction tool lands with a “Thud!” Right beside him. ‘Okay…’ Something wet and warm splashes into his face as something else “Plops.” In front of him, into the water he is on all fours up to his forearms in.
Looking down as these sausage like objects bob up to the surface and separate, getting a better look at them. ‘Fingers!’ He had taken enough off in life to recognise a removed digit or three when he sees them. ‘What.’ His wet hand comes up to his face. ‘The.’ Wiping the other wet splashed there, pulling his hand back. “Fuck?” William says out loud. ‘Blood.’ And he staggers to his feet holding his neck. There opposite Billy is. ‘Something?’ He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, none of it good, but instead of just running off down the opposite tunnel he crouches down grabs the boltgun and stands.
The creatures powerful tail swaying, tucks in behind it, coiling up tight, it springs forth with force, instantly launching its body forward. Eight webbed spider-like fingers parting before his face, its slick underside vagina, the tip of a large proboscis slimes out. A hand missing fingers and dripping blood comes up with the other, both too slowly and the thing slams into his face before he can do anything to stop it. Each finger lock around his head, the spine like tail wraps tightly around his neck in a spin, constricting like a boa, and in that instant the thick slimy proboscis is forced into his mouth and down his throat “Mmmmhhhh” A muffled scream... Then nothing. Two serrated fingertips puncture the back top half of his scalp, drawing blood. all of this happens in one fluid motion, Billy’s limp body then slides along the wall, down and into the floor.
William, again has no idea what he has just witnessed. ‘So fast!’ Something attacking Billy, not that he cared about him at all. Looking at the thing hugging his face tight, his own horrified at what the hell it could be, taking a step closer, its tail tightens some more around his neck and William flinches. ‘Fuck this!’ And he turns limping into a run.
(Royal facehugger took the Npc billy out with three rolls, now alien truly begins.)
2183. December 04.
Billy the rat bastard, the irony of his namesake lost on him as he scurries around the ventilation ducts in the dark. Another lost, is that he is carrying the ex con William Allen, helping him along, carrying a person whom he wants dead, just not right now, more specifically he wants to put him somewhere else to die. ‘Solitary.’ The thoughts alone of that blackened hell are enough to send his criminally chaotic mind into a spin, causing confusion.
‘Been here before?’ He thinks, unsure even more if he is lost and backtracking by accident, the scuffle with William turning him around worse than he first thought, or maybe he is just subconsciously avoiding the one location in the galaxy he never wanted to see again. Either way, for William and William only, Billy is willing to make a big goddamn exception, so again he runs through the trail he had remembered from the layouts in his head, and again they are not helping.
Another factor is that things had changed up here in the dank dark ventilation systems since Billy’s time on fury, the area his lot of convicts used to frequent must have been rocked by some sort of large fiery explosion, that’s what it looked like to him at least. Entering the ducts from where he knew too, the way he knew how to, led him and his not so dead partner at the time, the criminal Drace, up and through the chewed, bent pipes and ducts. From the start the area was torn up, dented. Metal all bloated and swollen, concussive forces having swept through the passages in one wave, this forced him to go around and into others. Ducts he did not know, leading them at the time around and toward the compound, closer to William, until they found him.
Billy didn’t know much about explosives, but he knew enough about fire and the like to know that something heavy went down across a large stretch of the network, the whole inner system they had walked through was pretty much scorched black, covered in soot with a weird, pungent odour laced in the air in all of the passages throughout, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, the smell that is, but he recognised it.
Looking about the tunnel he is in. Nothing comes to him at all and Billy drops William without any care, sending his body slumping down to the pipe floor. “Err…” Comes from the wounded ex cons mouth with a “Cough” of blood also.
“Shut the fuck up! You did this…” Billy says, reluctantly he clicks the wrist attachment to the Seegson spectro-graph. Activating it, the convict begins to pace from one side of the tunnel to the other, a very short back and forth. “Pitter.” “Pattering.” In puddles at his feet. Billy did not want to give his position away until he had done what he came here to do and was clear of any wrongdoing, now his hand is forced, all so he can get some form of bearing as to his current position in the compound.
Switching it on, the device whirrs to life with the typical sonar “Blip.” This resounds at the also typical two minute intervals, the first of which has come and gone. The basic training he received in its use lets him know the ‘Bloody’ thing is on. “Blip.” In fact, it is already mapping the area from his exact location, the percentage bar on the wrist attachment heads up display completely fills up and “Pings.” Billy didn’t care, so he ignores all of it, instead switching straight to a compass and some old archive data on the system, all to get a proper bearing, still pacing he waits for it to load. “Bleep.”
‘East!’ They were just about to drift off course, hating the sudden need of the corporate branded device. ‘Any corpo brand!’ Billy begins to map out his route, frustratingly again. “Bleep.” ‘No.’ He knew that section had been blown open in some sort of blast, scrolling along, the display too small for the information he is forcing its screen to use. ‘No.’ That leads back towards the compound, not where he wanted to be at all. ‘There.’ “Bleep.” ‘What is that.’ Billy finally noticing the typical “Blip.” Has been replaced by a new one. A “Bleep.” Tapping the tech. ‘?’ Confused as he moves. ‘This thing broken?’ Looking at the display, nothing but the out of focus old WY blueprint that he is using. Billy finishes planning out the way. “Bleep.” Shutting off the device the second he is sure he has it locked down in his head.
Barely sat up, hunched sideways leaning on an elbow, and desperately craving a cigarette or two dozen. Every so often a single red droplet falls from the cloth tied around his neck, a little too tightly. ‘He has been blacking out for most of Billy’s trip, coming too at sporadic moments only, when his body was picked up, or thrown about, anything involving being dragged further away from his pay cheque. ‘For fucksake…’ William recognised the sound though, rousing him a little more, as does his wound. The ‘Bleep’ coming from Billy's tech just moments ago, the one the convict himself was so obviously oblivious to, otherwise he would probably be in more of a hurry, that is if he doesn’t want any witnesses.
The ‘Bleep.’ For. ‘Lifeform detected.’ Suggests that just might happen. The range of the device is supposed to be piss poor, so whomever it is, they are somewhere nearby. Not many times in his life has William been thankful for anyone other than himself, if the audible alert is correct, that may change. There is someone else up here with them. Could be the marines… ‘No.’ William knew better. Most likely it’ll be another convict. ‘Yeah.’ Doesn’t matter though, as long as they cross paths, this will flag up, which might bring others right to them. That's a ‘Maybe.’ Holding his throat, swallowing is next to impossible, each one a bolt of lightning from his wounded neck. As always. ‘I’m on my own.’ Well until billy leaves him that way. ‘Not looking so good.
Billy steps over frustrated. “Get up! Your legs are fine.” He snarls standing over him, the only time he will ever actual tower over him. Even slumped down, Williams height still brings him up to Billy’s stomach. “Up.” Billy says again and William slowly looks that way, one side of his vision fuzzy, the other too, focusing until it is staring down the barrel of a bolt gun, inches from his face and in Billy’s hand.
“Go on... Shoot me.” William says through a smokers smile, yellow and smug. “Either way... My bodies being carried... All the way out to that shit hole.” He ends spitting blood, splattering Billy’s front, who retaliates by punting the tip of the boltgun forward into his face and cracking his nose. “Argh…” Williams head hits the tunnel wall and his right hand comes up to catch the first nostril that flows red, the other is quick to follow but he doesn't even bother to raise his left to catch it, or any of it, instead letting the blood flow flatteringly down the front of his overalls.
Shining the torch light on his head mount directly into Williams now bloodied face. “GET THE FUCK UP!” Billy screams, the ex cons nose flowing freely, his only reply is to smile another toothy grin, bloodied face with some of that red now flowing down over his mouth and into his teeth. Did he really think William was going to make it easy for him.
‘Nope.’
Billy goes to strike him again but stops. “Nah. I’ll wait.” Leaning down to grab him by one arm and pulling his body towards him.
“AHH.” Hurting William in the process as his body is shifted around, neck included, all so that Billy can grab his other arm and pull, dragging the ex con along.
“Just so you know, once we’re topside... I’m going to make you regret what you did to Drace..” Billy says trying not to think about the guy who has been at his hip for so very long, and now he’s gone. ‘‘Because of him.’ And himself, ignoring the fact that it was his idea to come here in the first place.
“Boo... Fucking hoo…” Talking hurt, but this was worth saying. “This world alone is better off.” William croaks. Not a single reason he could think of that would stand against exactly how he felt. “Drace… deserved it…. Just like the old man. Just like you.”
“Me…. Hahaha” Billy chuckles and stops for a moment and a breather “I’m the only one of us in this place you haven’t stuck with that fucking thing.” Pointing at is injured neck. “Where’d you get the idea for that anyways.” Returning to the slow pace of dragging him along. “ Was it Franko?”
“Yeah.”
“Kitchen tray right?”
William just nods. “ The metal ones were the best, those plastic ones they changed them to were... Useless. Too brittle.” Billy continues as he continues to drag the ex cons body, pulling it through the current tunnel.
“Didn’t I stick him too… Ha.. Ah…” William says.
“Very fucking funny… Got your one in my back pocket, I’ll show you how to use it properly when we arrive at your new wing. None of that foo foo shit for you again like back in hub six… Well. You do know what I’m getting at a little I suppose. But then... You only stayed a week. Try four years…” Billy’s smile turning sinister. ‘Your about to become a lifer.” Billy says the term used for those whom back in the day were sent to Solitary indefinitely. Pulling and straining, moving backwards towards a tighter section of the current passage, this one is a little wetter too as Williams boots splash into a puddle and then through it.
Looking over his own shoulders, one after the other as he moves dragging the ex con in his hands Billy’s face turns to look again and this time there beside him instead of the tunnel wall or some piping, its some kind of large. ‘Insect! Biggest! Fucking! Weirdest! Looking Bug!’ He has ever seen in his life, thinking he had seen them all on Fury 161 alone, the lice aside, insects are by far the most widespread organisms down here on the planet. ‘But this? Nothing like this!.’ Startled by the sudden appearance of this literal ‘Freak!’ of nature coming out of nowhere, some creeping crawling nightmare, right there in front of him. Billy drops William, practically throwing his limbs down to the ground as he recoils back in terror.
Four of its eight webbed, long, spider-like fingers raise, the creature like a pair of skeletal hands fused together shifts reacting to Billy’s movement. Two of those fingertips arched, poised and ready to strike are serrated, it follows him as he moves, spindly legs. “Skittering.” With two large air bladders at the back of its lightly chitinous body, each spotty breathing sac sits either side of its thick powerful spine like tail. Which itself is arched over its large body, bladed tip aimed right at him like some macabre scorpion. Billy backs up into the tunnel wall right behind him. The creature is a flat tone brown, almost beige, several large spine like bristles cover its back. ‘What the fuck is that thing?’ Raising the boltgun freaked, disgusted and shocked all at once. ‘He had seen some shit before, but this?’ It’s taking the cake.
The creature twitches quick and its spine like tail lashes out like lightning. “Chink” Its bladed tip sounds striking the boltgun that was threatening it, the construction tool goes flying, landing with a “Thud!” Somewhere it shouldn’t, away from him, Billy looks at his hand still aimed at the creature, now empty. ‘Fingers Missing!’ Followed by a steady flow of blood from such perfectly clean cuts, clutching that hand with his other one he “AHHHH!” Starts to scream, pressing himself up against the tunnel wall still behind him.
William during some of the above had rolled, splashing in the wet onto his front, lifting himself up, his body out of it, front of his overalls dripping. Wondering why Billy is screaming all of a sudden. ‘Hurt himself hopefully.... Hot pipe, impaled on something?...’ Whatever it is, he will not help him. The ex con lifts his head, looking up towards where Billy is, torchlight aimed at something opposite that has him shocked. William cannot see anything really from such a low angle, then the construction tool lands with a “Thud!” Right beside him. ‘Okay…’ Something wet and warm splashes into his face as something else “Plops.” In front of him, into the water he is on all fours up to his forearms in.
Looking down as these sausage like objects bob up to the surface and separate, getting a better look at them. ‘Fingers!’ He had taken enough off in life to recognise a removed digit or three when he sees them. ‘What.’ His wet hand comes up to his face. ‘The.’ Wiping the other wet splashed there, pulling his hand back. “Fuck?” William says out loud. ‘Blood.’ And he staggers to his feet holding his neck. There opposite Billy is. ‘Something?’ He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, none of it good, but instead of just running off down the opposite tunnel he crouches down grabs the boltgun and stands.
The creatures powerful tail swaying, tucks in behind it, coiling up tight, it springs forth with force, instantly launching its body forward. Eight webbed spider-like fingers parting before his face, its slick underside vagina, the tip of a large proboscis slimes out. A hand missing fingers and dripping blood comes up with the other, both too slowly and the thing slams into his face before he can do anything to stop it. Each finger lock around his head, the spine like tail wraps tightly around his neck in a spin, constricting like a boa, and in that instant the thick slimy proboscis is forced into his mouth and down his throat “Mmmmhhhh” A muffled scream... Then nothing. Two serrated fingertips puncture the back top half of his scalp, drawing blood. all of this happens in one fluid motion, Billy’s limp body then slides along the wall, down and into the floor.
William, again has no idea what he has just witnessed. ‘So fast!’ Something attacking Billy, not that he cared about him at all. Looking at the thing hugging his face tight, his own horrified at what the hell it could be, taking a step closer, its tail tightens some more around his neck and William flinches. ‘Fuck this!’ And he turns limping into a run.
(Royal facehugger took the Npc billy out with three rolls, now alien truly begins.)
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
P-DAT in hand and gold watch back on her wrist, it doesn’t feel any lighter yet, even this close to one of her prizes. The company agent and her marine escort move along the tunnel, no less than a few meters from where they had initially climbed up into the ducts via an old access hatch, and Grimm's shoulder mounted Hi-Beam now rested on a corpse instead of any of the ventilation passage. The body lying beside a pool of blood, most of which has dripped down into the corridor below, through the squares of the cross hatched grating and between the multiple pipes, the results of which beneath them, that they have already seen.
“Doesn’t look wounded…” Grimm says answering a question of hers from earlier she now already knew and she just looks at him, then with his boot he rolls the body over onto its back. “Looks like someone stabbed him in the chest…” Spotting the wound punched through the thick overalls at his front, he leans in for a better look.”The heart too.” Straightening up, he could tell by the amount of blood and its flow. “Gotta be real close for something like that.” Saying this in that way only those who know how could, making her feel even more uncomfortable than she already was.
With one hand holding the P-DAT, she ticks off the first location with the other, then brings it up to cover her mouth, swallowing hard, trembling uncontrollably. Sarah had never seen a dead body before, not for real anyway, and there’s a lot of blood with this one, her first one too, shocked at how much had leaked out from a single person, from a single wound. Grimm's boot this time turns the head, twisting that life less face away from him, dead eyes now unintentionally forced to look right at her. ‘UH!’ It's too much, catching its hollow gaze and Sarah has to turn her back on it and him completely.
The marine spies her sudden movement then looks back down, looking for the “Barcode… YY.” He says confirming what they both knew already, the only possibility being that this is the body of one of the ex cons employed by Seegson. “Now we’ve got a murder mystery.”
“Could you please… Just kindly retrieve the spectro-graphic mapping device so we can move on.” Sarah says with her back still turned.
“Here.” The device all folded, coiled up and waiting, is already there, hanging over her shoulder.
“Thank you.” Sarah says taking it hoping it doesn’t have a single spot of red on it, not that she could see it in the low light. The first of these devices the company agent was after, is now in her hands. Halfway to some answers. ‘Maybe.’ ‘Project-Artemis-Active and Special Order 940-Passive?’ Still completely eludes her, and most importantly whether either can help with her assignment here on Fiorina 161. “One more to go.” Sarah says looking at her tablet. “Its.... Uuuh… Up ahead, not too far from here.” Pointing without turning. Grimm follows.
“You said that already.” ‘North.’ Away from who ever probably did this, but the company agent is in charge within reason and she doesn’t want them to give chase right now, she wants them to find company. ‘Tech?’ Grimm spies the device. Another ‘Why? Why is that so important?’ The marine keeping it to himself for now.
Grimm just looks at the back of her head before shouting down. “Elson?” Leaning over some of the grating, unable to see anything from the angle and twisted pipe work wrapped in darkness. There is a short pause before a HI-Beam shines, lighting up some of that area.
“Yeah?” Follows after that, the Rookie all ears as always.
“We are moving on to the second objective. Follow on your motion tracker.”
“...Okay...” Nik's voice comes up again through the hatch work grating. Grimm hating the communication issue on Fury even more in a situation like this. The facility does a number on most comm devices, which they learnt on arrival. The marines did get some old closed network radios to work, but even they aren't good for much range, just the locations within the compound, the office, mess hall, loading bay etc. If he had known how far they were coming, how deep into the compound then he would have brought some.
Grimm walks past tapping Sarah on the shoulder, she looks and his hand is up above his own gesturing her to follow him, and she does so. Avoiding the corpse totally, covering that side of her face with her shaky hand as she trembles past it. The marines HI-Beam lights the way forward, the micro torch on her P-DAT all but useless up here, not that it helped much down in the tunnels either but it was something for her then to focus on at least.“What about the body?” Grimm asks
“Once I am back at my desk, I will send a crew of synthetics down here.” Sarah says and wants to say ‘to clean it up.’ But the words don’t sit right with her so she does not say them, Grimm nods along with what he hears but with the company agent being behind him and it being so dark, she does not notice. One thing she does is his helmet, her P-DAT’s micro torch revealing the tallies, scored into its surface, this she had not noticed before even in the light.
“Private Grimmshald?” Sarah asks.
“Grimm.”
“Grimm?” She says repeating what he said.
“Call me Grimm, everybody else does.”
“...Why?”
“I don’t know, never asked. Half my name I suppose”
“...Oookay. Grimm, Grimm, if you don’t mind me asking, what's with the tally chart on your helmet?”
“It’s not finished yet. It’s missing one.” He says not really giving her an answer at all, leaving her confused and a little more uncomfortable so she leaves it at that. In the dark behind the marine she runs her fingers along the device, the serial number is easily located when you know where to find it. Sarah taps it into the tablet, cross referencing the number to the employee identification network trying to bring up a file on who this device belonged to. Another number. ‘014’ Tapping it into the screen she brings up the file.
“Graham Dracelek… ex con, series of compulsive burglaries, occasional violence with authorities.... Take the right up ahead.” She says glossing over most of his file, she had read the majority of the files but not this one, they were all the same, nothing to write home about like the marine keeps on about and they both make the next turning right.
The next tunnel stunk, dripping on all sides, a large pool of dark water stretching across most of the next section. Grimm jumps down with a “Splash” and it comes up to his shins, he turns back to her, his cloned left hand resting on his rifle, the other taking hers and helping her gently down into the liquid. “Thanks.” Sarah says joining him and they splash on down through the entire length of pipe until a short incline pretty much brings them up and out of the water. “Make another right here.” Sarah says, the marines HI-Beam revealing a junction ahead, one she knew was coming up, scrolling through the blueprints on the P-DAT, Sarah knew there would be a few more before they finally got there.
Nik Elson. ‘The Rookie.’ Is following along in the passages beneath them, using his M314 Motion tracker to keep up. Grimms IFF beacon is coming through clear, there's also a dot for the company lady who seems to be following behind which he has tagged so it doesn’t resound like a typical alert and he is still tracking the dot or ‘Dots’ in the east, although they ‘It’ seems to have stopped moving. Currently Nik is wading through some. ‘Stinking.’ dark and grimy cold water almost up past his thighs, the tunnel flooded from up above, stretching across most of the next section. After some more sloshing he almost trips over some steps, steps leading him up and out of the wet, stomping as much off as possible once he is standing on dry ground. He then continues through the dark passages staying directly under the two dots on his tracker above the whole time. Looking up as he comes to a junction, the default mess of dripping and rusted pipework in every direction, following the motion tracker he makes a right.
“Bleep.” ‘Movement.’ The Rookies eyes jump down to the display the moment the audible warning sounds. “Bleep.” ‘Three targets?’ Three dots now, all jumbled close together in the east. “Bleep.” This time no amount of cupped slaps to the device is enough to correct the possible false reading like before. “Bleep.” Barely able to tell them apart, they are all so tightly knit. ‘Three? Two? Two? Three? Two and a half?’ The Rookie tries to keep up with the readings making another turn following Grimm's IFF beacon above. “Bleep.” Some of the battery bar blinks away leaving only four units, more than enough. “Bleep.” Turning into the next passage, the pipes kick up steam in all directions and he has to pick up his pace to avoid the majority of each warm burst that shoots out from both sides. ‘Bleep.’ ‘Three… Definitely three in the east.’ Getting a solid reading in the next tunnel.
“Er…. GRIMM?….” The rookie shouts up at the ceiling. “Bleep,” Through the grating, airways and shafts Nik's words echoe up reaching the others two.
“Yeah?” Somehow Grimm's voice comes down to him unable to tell where from.
“I’ve got a solid three signals.” “Bleep.” “Over there in the east.” The rookie says noting to himself that they themselves are currently heading north.
“Copy that, keep me posted.” Grimm's words come out from some small grate just out of view, not from the same one it did a moment ago. “Bleep”
‘Will do.’ Walking through the next dripping passage directly underneath them. “Bleep.” Coming up on the right side wall is a small machine, aiming his light that reflects off the glass. “Bleep.” Some broken, the rest shattered. Getting closer he reads ‘WY Cigarettes.’ on the side and front. “Bleep.” ‘Ancient.’ Walking past the Weyland-Yutani brand vending machine and it looks like there's a couple packs still inside, still in there seal too. “Bleep.” The Rookie does not smoke, ignoring the nicotine he continues to follow beneath the two above.
“Bleep.” The Rookie wasn’t a specialist when it comes to the M314 tracker, but all the activity right now suggests it is rather busy over there in the east. “Bleep.” Wondering what could be going on, another bloody pool like the one he just saw crosses his mind, wondering if thats what will greet them at the second objective. “Bleep.”
Glancing. ‘Two?’ Coming back up before realising and looking back down. It’s back to two, just two dots, both of them easily distinguishable from one another. ‘Where's the other?’ Now tapping the screen again once then again harder and the instant he does that one of the two dots disappears entirely. “Huh?” Even more confused. ‘Just one dot.’ Now. “Bleep.” One dot. “Bleep.” “Er…. GRIMM!”
“Yeah?” His voice resounds. ‘Bleep.’ Muffled slightly but he can still hear him from up above.
“We are down to one signal, I repeat one signal and… And its uh... Coming back our way.” The rookie checks again eyes off the monitor and up to the ceiling. “Yeah it’s definitely moving... It’s making a beeline back this way, I repeat its headed back this way.” Grimm slings his rifle and retrieves the motion tracker and activates it. “Bleep.” the instant it is triggered, a single dot. The Rookie is right, something is coming right towards their position, back from its own original point in the east. Grimm wonders where the other went, most likely just like the other dead con back there, with the one possibly responsible headed right for them.
“Do me a favour.” Grimm says turning to Sarah. “Take this and simply tell me when the dot reaches out position." Passing the device to her eliminates the biggest drawback to the M134 Motion tracker, the one where you can’t operate it and fire a weapon at the same time, now with the company agent using it, he can use his firearm, which he aims straight ahead. “We will wait for them to come to us.” He says, unable to see her behind him, the company agent trying not to think of the dead body they found not to far back and nods nervously.
"Okay. Got it." Sarah says looking down at the display.
2183. December 04.
P-DAT in hand and gold watch back on her wrist, it doesn’t feel any lighter yet, even this close to one of her prizes. The company agent and her marine escort move along the tunnel, no less than a few meters from where they had initially climbed up into the ducts via an old access hatch, and Grimm's shoulder mounted Hi-Beam now rested on a corpse instead of any of the ventilation passage. The body lying beside a pool of blood, most of which has dripped down into the corridor below, through the squares of the cross hatched grating and between the multiple pipes, the results of which beneath them, that they have already seen.
“Doesn’t look wounded…” Grimm says answering a question of hers from earlier she now already knew and she just looks at him, then with his boot he rolls the body over onto its back. “Looks like someone stabbed him in the chest…” Spotting the wound punched through the thick overalls at his front, he leans in for a better look.”The heart too.” Straightening up, he could tell by the amount of blood and its flow. “Gotta be real close for something like that.” Saying this in that way only those who know how could, making her feel even more uncomfortable than she already was.
With one hand holding the P-DAT, she ticks off the first location with the other, then brings it up to cover her mouth, swallowing hard, trembling uncontrollably. Sarah had never seen a dead body before, not for real anyway, and there’s a lot of blood with this one, her first one too, shocked at how much had leaked out from a single person, from a single wound. Grimm's boot this time turns the head, twisting that life less face away from him, dead eyes now unintentionally forced to look right at her. ‘UH!’ It's too much, catching its hollow gaze and Sarah has to turn her back on it and him completely.
The marine spies her sudden movement then looks back down, looking for the “Barcode… YY.” He says confirming what they both knew already, the only possibility being that this is the body of one of the ex cons employed by Seegson. “Now we’ve got a murder mystery.”
“Could you please… Just kindly retrieve the spectro-graphic mapping device so we can move on.” Sarah says with her back still turned.
“Here.” The device all folded, coiled up and waiting, is already there, hanging over her shoulder.
“Thank you.” Sarah says taking it hoping it doesn’t have a single spot of red on it, not that she could see it in the low light. The first of these devices the company agent was after, is now in her hands. Halfway to some answers. ‘Maybe.’ ‘Project-Artemis-Active and Special Order 940-Passive?’ Still completely eludes her, and most importantly whether either can help with her assignment here on Fiorina 161. “One more to go.” Sarah says looking at her tablet. “Its.... Uuuh… Up ahead, not too far from here.” Pointing without turning. Grimm follows.
“You said that already.” ‘North.’ Away from who ever probably did this, but the company agent is in charge within reason and she doesn’t want them to give chase right now, she wants them to find company. ‘Tech?’ Grimm spies the device. Another ‘Why? Why is that so important?’ The marine keeping it to himself for now.
Grimm just looks at the back of her head before shouting down. “Elson?” Leaning over some of the grating, unable to see anything from the angle and twisted pipe work wrapped in darkness. There is a short pause before a HI-Beam shines, lighting up some of that area.
“Yeah?” Follows after that, the Rookie all ears as always.
“We are moving on to the second objective. Follow on your motion tracker.”
“...Okay...” Nik's voice comes up again through the hatch work grating. Grimm hating the communication issue on Fury even more in a situation like this. The facility does a number on most comm devices, which they learnt on arrival. The marines did get some old closed network radios to work, but even they aren't good for much range, just the locations within the compound, the office, mess hall, loading bay etc. If he had known how far they were coming, how deep into the compound then he would have brought some.
Grimm walks past tapping Sarah on the shoulder, she looks and his hand is up above his own gesturing her to follow him, and she does so. Avoiding the corpse totally, covering that side of her face with her shaky hand as she trembles past it. The marines HI-Beam lights the way forward, the micro torch on her P-DAT all but useless up here, not that it helped much down in the tunnels either but it was something for her then to focus on at least.“What about the body?” Grimm asks
“Once I am back at my desk, I will send a crew of synthetics down here.” Sarah says and wants to say ‘to clean it up.’ But the words don’t sit right with her so she does not say them, Grimm nods along with what he hears but with the company agent being behind him and it being so dark, she does not notice. One thing she does is his helmet, her P-DAT’s micro torch revealing the tallies, scored into its surface, this she had not noticed before even in the light.
“Private Grimmshald?” Sarah asks.
“Grimm.”
“Grimm?” She says repeating what he said.
“Call me Grimm, everybody else does.”
“...Why?”
“I don’t know, never asked. Half my name I suppose”
“...Oookay. Grimm, Grimm, if you don’t mind me asking, what's with the tally chart on your helmet?”
“It’s not finished yet. It’s missing one.” He says not really giving her an answer at all, leaving her confused and a little more uncomfortable so she leaves it at that. In the dark behind the marine she runs her fingers along the device, the serial number is easily located when you know where to find it. Sarah taps it into the tablet, cross referencing the number to the employee identification network trying to bring up a file on who this device belonged to. Another number. ‘014’ Tapping it into the screen she brings up the file.
“Graham Dracelek… ex con, series of compulsive burglaries, occasional violence with authorities.... Take the right up ahead.” She says glossing over most of his file, she had read the majority of the files but not this one, they were all the same, nothing to write home about like the marine keeps on about and they both make the next turning right.
The next tunnel stunk, dripping on all sides, a large pool of dark water stretching across most of the next section. Grimm jumps down with a “Splash” and it comes up to his shins, he turns back to her, his cloned left hand resting on his rifle, the other taking hers and helping her gently down into the liquid. “Thanks.” Sarah says joining him and they splash on down through the entire length of pipe until a short incline pretty much brings them up and out of the water. “Make another right here.” Sarah says, the marines HI-Beam revealing a junction ahead, one she knew was coming up, scrolling through the blueprints on the P-DAT, Sarah knew there would be a few more before they finally got there.
Nik Elson. ‘The Rookie.’ Is following along in the passages beneath them, using his M314 Motion tracker to keep up. Grimms IFF beacon is coming through clear, there's also a dot for the company lady who seems to be following behind which he has tagged so it doesn’t resound like a typical alert and he is still tracking the dot or ‘Dots’ in the east, although they ‘It’ seems to have stopped moving. Currently Nik is wading through some. ‘Stinking.’ dark and grimy cold water almost up past his thighs, the tunnel flooded from up above, stretching across most of the next section. After some more sloshing he almost trips over some steps, steps leading him up and out of the wet, stomping as much off as possible once he is standing on dry ground. He then continues through the dark passages staying directly under the two dots on his tracker above the whole time. Looking up as he comes to a junction, the default mess of dripping and rusted pipework in every direction, following the motion tracker he makes a right.
“Bleep.” ‘Movement.’ The Rookies eyes jump down to the display the moment the audible warning sounds. “Bleep.” ‘Three targets?’ Three dots now, all jumbled close together in the east. “Bleep.” This time no amount of cupped slaps to the device is enough to correct the possible false reading like before. “Bleep.” Barely able to tell them apart, they are all so tightly knit. ‘Three? Two? Two? Three? Two and a half?’ The Rookie tries to keep up with the readings making another turn following Grimm's IFF beacon above. “Bleep.” Some of the battery bar blinks away leaving only four units, more than enough. “Bleep.” Turning into the next passage, the pipes kick up steam in all directions and he has to pick up his pace to avoid the majority of each warm burst that shoots out from both sides. ‘Bleep.’ ‘Three… Definitely three in the east.’ Getting a solid reading in the next tunnel.
“Er…. GRIMM?….” The rookie shouts up at the ceiling. “Bleep,” Through the grating, airways and shafts Nik's words echoe up reaching the others two.
“Yeah?” Somehow Grimm's voice comes down to him unable to tell where from.
“I’ve got a solid three signals.” “Bleep.” “Over there in the east.” The rookie says noting to himself that they themselves are currently heading north.
“Copy that, keep me posted.” Grimm's words come out from some small grate just out of view, not from the same one it did a moment ago. “Bleep”
‘Will do.’ Walking through the next dripping passage directly underneath them. “Bleep.” Coming up on the right side wall is a small machine, aiming his light that reflects off the glass. “Bleep.” Some broken, the rest shattered. Getting closer he reads ‘WY Cigarettes.’ on the side and front. “Bleep.” ‘Ancient.’ Walking past the Weyland-Yutani brand vending machine and it looks like there's a couple packs still inside, still in there seal too. “Bleep.” The Rookie does not smoke, ignoring the nicotine he continues to follow beneath the two above.
“Bleep.” The Rookie wasn’t a specialist when it comes to the M314 tracker, but all the activity right now suggests it is rather busy over there in the east. “Bleep.” Wondering what could be going on, another bloody pool like the one he just saw crosses his mind, wondering if thats what will greet them at the second objective. “Bleep.”
Glancing. ‘Two?’ Coming back up before realising and looking back down. It’s back to two, just two dots, both of them easily distinguishable from one another. ‘Where's the other?’ Now tapping the screen again once then again harder and the instant he does that one of the two dots disappears entirely. “Huh?” Even more confused. ‘Just one dot.’ Now. “Bleep.” One dot. “Bleep.” “Er…. GRIMM!”
“Yeah?” His voice resounds. ‘Bleep.’ Muffled slightly but he can still hear him from up above.
“We are down to one signal, I repeat one signal and… And its uh... Coming back our way.” The rookie checks again eyes off the monitor and up to the ceiling. “Yeah it’s definitely moving... It’s making a beeline back this way, I repeat its headed back this way.” Grimm slings his rifle and retrieves the motion tracker and activates it. “Bleep.” the instant it is triggered, a single dot. The Rookie is right, something is coming right towards their position, back from its own original point in the east. Grimm wonders where the other went, most likely just like the other dead con back there, with the one possibly responsible headed right for them.
“Do me a favour.” Grimm says turning to Sarah. “Take this and simply tell me when the dot reaches out position." Passing the device to her eliminates the biggest drawback to the M134 Motion tracker, the one where you can’t operate it and fire a weapon at the same time, now with the company agent using it, he can use his firearm, which he aims straight ahead. “We will wait for them to come to us.” He says, unable to see her behind him, the company agent trying not to think of the dead body they found not to far back and nods nervously.
"Okay. Got it." Sarah says looking down at the display.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04.
William Allen’s mind even with what it had just witnessed, somehow has barely managed to keep his nerves in check. The ex con lost in darkness, a metaphor for his whole life at this point, the entire black of the ventilation network an endless struggle to find his way. Running from... ‘What?’ He had no idea. Certainly not the YY chromo ‘Billy!’ That... ‘Thing!’ On his ‘Face.’ That’s another thing entirely, hoping there wasn’t any more of them up here in the ducts, somewhere in the dark that surrounds him. Left alone to process what had happened back there in the low light. ‘A scream? Some blood? And three fingers floating.’
Then ‘Something….?’ Something smothered that ass hole Billy, its spine like tail wrapping tight around his throat, right in front of ‘My!’ Eyes. ‘He has to be dead? Its eating him, his face?’ William shakes his head, what is he even trying to put together as he stumbles along, he does not know. “Squelching.” And “Splattering.” Everywhere he walks, most of his overalls are drenched, soaked through in places, the YY having fallen into water that he could not see in the tunnels. Holding his throat, it still burned, trying to ignore the wound, the cloth wrapped tightly around his neck reminds him of that thing back there around Billy’s, the sharp stabs to his throat with each step brings along thoughts of that ‘Thing!’ With them.
Staggering into what has to be another tunnel wall, stepping then tripping over the uneven grating and pipework at his feet. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ The ex con beyond pissed at this point, this was not an easy job, almost dying in the process kind of highlighting that fact. And William is certain now. ‘Certain!’ That in his whole twelve years incarcerated on Fury, he had never seen or encountered anything like what he just had, and is now god knows how far behind him. Based on Billy’s reaction, he hadn’t either, William knowing the convict had four years in ‘Solitary’ to confirm the rumours of all the creepy crawlies that were supposed to run around in the dark over there. William had a brief seven day stint in its depths and from what little he could recall of the literal darkest days of his life, he never felt anything other than the usual, lice, lice and rampant insect life. Nothing like. ‘That?’ Word spreads fast in a prison and all, so if anything like that was roaming around the inmates would be the first to know.
Weyland-Yutani’s radioactive, toxic waste disposal and mutated insects is his next line of thinking ‘Maybe they were experimenting.’ With the usual conspiracy stuff that follows. Trudging along, feeling his way with his free hand, the bolt gun he picked up still held tightly in the other, fingers touching something greasy then sliding them through years of built up muck, his boot kicking up dirt and the other stepping in grime, using the surface to guide himself blindly onward as best he can. William had already come to realise, that he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to his own Seegson spectro-graph, and that it meant an entire paycheck ‘Gone!’ A ‘Large!’ Paycheck taken from him by ‘Billy!’ of all people. Hating himself now for not taking Billy’s device. ‘No.’ Instantly shaking his head, hurting his neck and repeating the cycle of thoughts. That would have meant getting close to that thing on his face, and he did not want to be next on the menu. ‘Not at all.’
The ex con hasn’t had to push himself this hard since his days as a young crook and he could feel it. Old, middle age old, exhausted when he shouldn’t be old. Stopping hunched over he takes a breath and stands. ‘I’m getting the fuck out of here, going home, forgetting this ever happened.’ Never will he die on this rock, not on ‘Fury 161’ of all places, not for any amount of money. These sentiments harden his next steps, he pushes off the wall completely and charges into the darkness, back into an awkward run. ‘What’s the plan now Will?’ He asks himself trying not to berate himself further for not having another plan in place, just in case of a screw up like. ‘This?’ Not like this, the weird creature would have never been part of the plan, no amount of hair removal was keeping that fucker away. ‘Always plan ahead.’ He did not, and well, everything that has happened up until now is the result. “SHIT!” William says slowing down a little to allow for the tick of rage, arms out tensing as he does, wound flaring because of it.
‘LIGHT!’ Instantly blinding, stuns him to a sharp stop, almost over. “Hands up!” Grimm’s voice demands from behind the intense glare of light. “And put the?… Boltgun? Yeah, put the construction tool down.” The ex con knew the song and dance, blinking the blaze in his eyes away as he raises both hands up and above his head, dropping the bolt gun, he wasn’t asked but William knew to move. ‘Slowly… Ergh.’
“On your knees.” In any other circumstance, in this prison especially, this would be a ‘No’ but the light in his face is on a shoulder, not head mount, and it’s powerful too, clearly a HI-Beam worn by one of the marines. 'Pulse Rifles.’ So William does as requested and lowers onto both of his knees. “Do yourself a favour, don’t do anything stupid. I’ve got forty eight rounds that should make you very smart, very quickly.” The beam in the ex cons face shifts to over his shoulder. “With another forty something at your feet... And he’s the new guy too so his trigger finger might have those first day jitters.” Grimm says.
“Got it?” The light now out of his face, William’s eyes try to adjust, another HI-Beam shines up through the grates at his knees. ‘The new guy.’ The ex con thinks glancing down then back up again, another marine is down there in the tunnel below.
“Exactly….” Grimm replies watching his eye movement. “Stay here.” He says, but this time he was not talking to him.
“Okay.” Sarah says nodding in the dark and he spots her silhouette hiding behind the marines. Grimm with his M41A pulse rifle raised, advances leaving the company agent behind, her P-DAT torch failing to light any thing but she holds it up any way, the motion tracker in the other. With the convict in his sights he moves forward steadily. “Nice and easy bud, don’t wanna have to blow holes in you.” The marine edges around the ex convict, spotting the red cloth tied around his neck."Looks like you have one already?" Turning back to Sarah. “Easier than I thought it was going to go if I’m honest.” Grimm says, then slings his rifle grabbing the first of Williams raised hands, with his other he retrieves some zip-ties from his hip and cuffs both wrists tight. “Job done, and we didn’t even have to go chasing after any one.” Grimm says turning back toward the P-DAT’s micro torch.
“Not exactly… We still need to retrieve the remaining spectro-grapic mapping device, which I would assume since he is not wearing one…” Sarah pauses. “Is it yours?” She asks and the ex con nods once agreeing with her, he doesn’t do it again, the pain from his wound a sharp stab from the motion. “Yeah it’s mine, hear me out. This ain't what it loo…” Williams words are cut short by the violent tug on the scruff of his overalls from behind.
“We are kind of doing the talking thingy here.” Grimm says. “Speak when spoken too and what not.”
“We need the other one, it’s the reason why we are up here in the first place.” Sarah says this in that authoritarian tone she had tried taking a couple times already, he didn’t like it then, or now.
“Nothing to do with the dead body in the other direction at all. Hmm.” Grimm says, typical corporate playbook. ‘Every. Body is a statistic.”
“Not right now it’s not no. So can we please, please just move on to the next location, it’s right up ahead.”
“Yes mam.” Grimm answers lifting the ex con up and onto his feet. “Got a name?”
“Allen… William. William Allen.” They’d have his file up soon enough so trying to lie would not be in his best interest.
“Mr Allen, you are now in the custody of the USCMC, please do not make me or my partner down there shoot you. Elson follow on your tracker.” Grimm sticks the barrel of his rifle in between both of Williams shoulders as a little extra incentive to his words. “Forty eight.” Grimm says reminding him of how many rounds await if he tries anything. “Move.” And William does, hands zip tied behind his back, moving towards the company agent. Grimm bends down and picks up the bolt gun, gives it the once over, realises it’s rigged. “Never tried one of these. Heard they are lethal in close quarters.” Aiming it at his back until he passes Sarah ‘Things got some weight to it too.’ William sniffs deeply taking in her scent, not often he gets the chance to smell a woman, with current circumstances it may be his last. Unable to see her hidden behind her own meagre P-DAT micro torch.
‘Smells good.’ The marine pushes the ex con ahead as he pauses for a fraction beside her, partly turning her way. “Keep moving.” Deja vu, as he moves into the next tunnel, although now instead of a bolt gun, it’s a pulse rifle that ushers him forward, through the compounds ventilation ducts. ‘At least it’s not to Solitary.’
With all the ‘Light! Hands up! And On your knees.’ William had forgotten about one thing, his ‘Tobacco!’ It was on either ‘Drace.’ or ‘Billy…’ Billy. ‘The Creature!.’ He had forgotten about that ‘Thing!’ too. “Can I at least tel…”
“Nope. Save it for the report.” Grimm's words shut him down completely, he knows already he has got no chance explaining any of this. As if they would believe him anyway, there's at least two bodies up here now one of which he is responsible for and he is the only YY left standing, barely. ‘Doesn’t look good.’ Plausible deniability aside he knows he can hope for a self defence plea at best, if he brings up the creature, a psyche plea at worse, and that’s if the marines or the company doesn't just decide to cut their losses and either leave him here on Fury to rot or take him out onto the surface and put a bullet in his skull. ‘So much for an easy job.’ As he ducks under some piping into the next section.
2183. December 04.
William Allen’s mind even with what it had just witnessed, somehow has barely managed to keep his nerves in check. The ex con lost in darkness, a metaphor for his whole life at this point, the entire black of the ventilation network an endless struggle to find his way. Running from... ‘What?’ He had no idea. Certainly not the YY chromo ‘Billy!’ That... ‘Thing!’ On his ‘Face.’ That’s another thing entirely, hoping there wasn’t any more of them up here in the ducts, somewhere in the dark that surrounds him. Left alone to process what had happened back there in the low light. ‘A scream? Some blood? And three fingers floating.’
Then ‘Something….?’ Something smothered that ass hole Billy, its spine like tail wrapping tight around his throat, right in front of ‘My!’ Eyes. ‘He has to be dead? Its eating him, his face?’ William shakes his head, what is he even trying to put together as he stumbles along, he does not know. “Squelching.” And “Splattering.” Everywhere he walks, most of his overalls are drenched, soaked through in places, the YY having fallen into water that he could not see in the tunnels. Holding his throat, it still burned, trying to ignore the wound, the cloth wrapped tightly around his neck reminds him of that thing back there around Billy’s, the sharp stabs to his throat with each step brings along thoughts of that ‘Thing!’ With them.
Staggering into what has to be another tunnel wall, stepping then tripping over the uneven grating and pipework at his feet. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ The ex con beyond pissed at this point, this was not an easy job, almost dying in the process kind of highlighting that fact. And William is certain now. ‘Certain!’ That in his whole twelve years incarcerated on Fury, he had never seen or encountered anything like what he just had, and is now god knows how far behind him. Based on Billy’s reaction, he hadn’t either, William knowing the convict had four years in ‘Solitary’ to confirm the rumours of all the creepy crawlies that were supposed to run around in the dark over there. William had a brief seven day stint in its depths and from what little he could recall of the literal darkest days of his life, he never felt anything other than the usual, lice, lice and rampant insect life. Nothing like. ‘That?’ Word spreads fast in a prison and all, so if anything like that was roaming around the inmates would be the first to know.
Weyland-Yutani’s radioactive, toxic waste disposal and mutated insects is his next line of thinking ‘Maybe they were experimenting.’ With the usual conspiracy stuff that follows. Trudging along, feeling his way with his free hand, the bolt gun he picked up still held tightly in the other, fingers touching something greasy then sliding them through years of built up muck, his boot kicking up dirt and the other stepping in grime, using the surface to guide himself blindly onward as best he can. William had already come to realise, that he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to his own Seegson spectro-graph, and that it meant an entire paycheck ‘Gone!’ A ‘Large!’ Paycheck taken from him by ‘Billy!’ of all people. Hating himself now for not taking Billy’s device. ‘No.’ Instantly shaking his head, hurting his neck and repeating the cycle of thoughts. That would have meant getting close to that thing on his face, and he did not want to be next on the menu. ‘Not at all.’
The ex con hasn’t had to push himself this hard since his days as a young crook and he could feel it. Old, middle age old, exhausted when he shouldn’t be old. Stopping hunched over he takes a breath and stands. ‘I’m getting the fuck out of here, going home, forgetting this ever happened.’ Never will he die on this rock, not on ‘Fury 161’ of all places, not for any amount of money. These sentiments harden his next steps, he pushes off the wall completely and charges into the darkness, back into an awkward run. ‘What’s the plan now Will?’ He asks himself trying not to berate himself further for not having another plan in place, just in case of a screw up like. ‘This?’ Not like this, the weird creature would have never been part of the plan, no amount of hair removal was keeping that fucker away. ‘Always plan ahead.’ He did not, and well, everything that has happened up until now is the result. “SHIT!” William says slowing down a little to allow for the tick of rage, arms out tensing as he does, wound flaring because of it.
‘LIGHT!’ Instantly blinding, stuns him to a sharp stop, almost over. “Hands up!” Grimm’s voice demands from behind the intense glare of light. “And put the?… Boltgun? Yeah, put the construction tool down.” The ex con knew the song and dance, blinking the blaze in his eyes away as he raises both hands up and above his head, dropping the bolt gun, he wasn’t asked but William knew to move. ‘Slowly… Ergh.’
“On your knees.” In any other circumstance, in this prison especially, this would be a ‘No’ but the light in his face is on a shoulder, not head mount, and it’s powerful too, clearly a HI-Beam worn by one of the marines. 'Pulse Rifles.’ So William does as requested and lowers onto both of his knees. “Do yourself a favour, don’t do anything stupid. I’ve got forty eight rounds that should make you very smart, very quickly.” The beam in the ex cons face shifts to over his shoulder. “With another forty something at your feet... And he’s the new guy too so his trigger finger might have those first day jitters.” Grimm says.
“Got it?” The light now out of his face, William’s eyes try to adjust, another HI-Beam shines up through the grates at his knees. ‘The new guy.’ The ex con thinks glancing down then back up again, another marine is down there in the tunnel below.
“Exactly….” Grimm replies watching his eye movement. “Stay here.” He says, but this time he was not talking to him.
“Okay.” Sarah says nodding in the dark and he spots her silhouette hiding behind the marines. Grimm with his M41A pulse rifle raised, advances leaving the company agent behind, her P-DAT torch failing to light any thing but she holds it up any way, the motion tracker in the other. With the convict in his sights he moves forward steadily. “Nice and easy bud, don’t wanna have to blow holes in you.” The marine edges around the ex convict, spotting the red cloth tied around his neck."Looks like you have one already?" Turning back to Sarah. “Easier than I thought it was going to go if I’m honest.” Grimm says, then slings his rifle grabbing the first of Williams raised hands, with his other he retrieves some zip-ties from his hip and cuffs both wrists tight. “Job done, and we didn’t even have to go chasing after any one.” Grimm says turning back toward the P-DAT’s micro torch.
“Not exactly… We still need to retrieve the remaining spectro-grapic mapping device, which I would assume since he is not wearing one…” Sarah pauses. “Is it yours?” She asks and the ex con nods once agreeing with her, he doesn’t do it again, the pain from his wound a sharp stab from the motion. “Yeah it’s mine, hear me out. This ain't what it loo…” Williams words are cut short by the violent tug on the scruff of his overalls from behind.
“We are kind of doing the talking thingy here.” Grimm says. “Speak when spoken too and what not.”
“We need the other one, it’s the reason why we are up here in the first place.” Sarah says this in that authoritarian tone she had tried taking a couple times already, he didn’t like it then, or now.
“Nothing to do with the dead body in the other direction at all. Hmm.” Grimm says, typical corporate playbook. ‘Every. Body is a statistic.”
“Not right now it’s not no. So can we please, please just move on to the next location, it’s right up ahead.”
“Yes mam.” Grimm answers lifting the ex con up and onto his feet. “Got a name?”
“Allen… William. William Allen.” They’d have his file up soon enough so trying to lie would not be in his best interest.
“Mr Allen, you are now in the custody of the USCMC, please do not make me or my partner down there shoot you. Elson follow on your tracker.” Grimm sticks the barrel of his rifle in between both of Williams shoulders as a little extra incentive to his words. “Forty eight.” Grimm says reminding him of how many rounds await if he tries anything. “Move.” And William does, hands zip tied behind his back, moving towards the company agent. Grimm bends down and picks up the bolt gun, gives it the once over, realises it’s rigged. “Never tried one of these. Heard they are lethal in close quarters.” Aiming it at his back until he passes Sarah ‘Things got some weight to it too.’ William sniffs deeply taking in her scent, not often he gets the chance to smell a woman, with current circumstances it may be his last. Unable to see her hidden behind her own meagre P-DAT micro torch.
‘Smells good.’ The marine pushes the ex con ahead as he pauses for a fraction beside her, partly turning her way. “Keep moving.” Deja vu, as he moves into the next tunnel, although now instead of a bolt gun, it’s a pulse rifle that ushers him forward, through the compounds ventilation ducts. ‘At least it’s not to Solitary.’
With all the ‘Light! Hands up! And On your knees.’ William had forgotten about one thing, his ‘Tobacco!’ It was on either ‘Drace.’ or ‘Billy…’ Billy. ‘The Creature!.’ He had forgotten about that ‘Thing!’ too. “Can I at least tel…”
“Nope. Save it for the report.” Grimm's words shut him down completely, he knows already he has got no chance explaining any of this. As if they would believe him anyway, there's at least two bodies up here now one of which he is responsible for and he is the only YY left standing, barely. ‘Doesn’t look good.’ Plausible deniability aside he knows he can hope for a self defence plea at best, if he brings up the creature, a psyche plea at worse, and that’s if the marines or the company doesn't just decide to cut their losses and either leave him here on Fury to rot or take him out onto the surface and put a bullet in his skull. ‘So much for an easy job.’ As he ducks under some piping into the next section.
Last edited by wendal on Sun 08 Dec 2019, 08:18, edited 1 time in total.
viewtopic.php?t=5397
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.
Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.
2183. December 04
In the loading bay of the correctional facility, high volume work crews of synthetics pass by, all of them going about their business, their scrap work here on Fury 161. The stables replaced with columns and rows of bulky AI central control cores. One of them further along these rows, right at the back, out of sight, blinks then light’s up. ‘A.P.O.L.L.O-Override...0..3...4...5..3..2…… Project-Artemis-Active…….. Phase 1 in Progress….. YY Protocol-Active….. Proceed with Phase 2.’ A dozen red lights blink green in sequence all the way up the middle of the governing AI’s core. ‘Phase 2 Initiated……. Canine Protocol-Active.’
“East Artemis, releasing package shortly.” Outside in the howling wind, stinging rain and rampant insect life is an average Joe synthetic, unflinching to the elements and swarming fauna that engulf it. In his hand is a metal leash which leads to the medium sized full pedigree rottweiler, a perfect specimen. The number ‘3’ laser branded into her fur on both sides, each shoulder. The animal “Whines!’ And tries to pull forward, trying to hurry its robotic handler, nothing budges, irritated by the lice and acidic rain no doubt. The synthetic oblivious to the creatures plight continues walking forward towards the compound, its pace to slow for the poor dog and its unable to pull on the lead due to the synthetics strength.
Finally arriving at a large entrance, standing at the large opening the average Joe leans down for the animals collar. “Whoof!” The butcher's dog barks, her jaw opens, no teeth, just gums and the synth “clicks” releasing the leash and its collar. The rottweiler breaks into a sprint, instantly off, barrelling into the facilities eastern extremities seeking shelter from the hellish surface. “Package delivered Artemis…” The average Joe synthetic says, standing, turning and walking away.
“....... Good Boy……”
2183. December 04
In the loading bay of the correctional facility, high volume work crews of synthetics pass by, all of them going about their business, their scrap work here on Fury 161. The stables replaced with columns and rows of bulky AI central control cores. One of them further along these rows, right at the back, out of sight, blinks then light’s up. ‘A.P.O.L.L.O-Override...0..3...4...5..3..2…… Project-Artemis-Active…….. Phase 1 in Progress….. YY Protocol-Active….. Proceed with Phase 2.’ A dozen red lights blink green in sequence all the way up the middle of the governing AI’s core. ‘Phase 2 Initiated……. Canine Protocol-Active.’
“East Artemis, releasing package shortly.” Outside in the howling wind, stinging rain and rampant insect life is an average Joe synthetic, unflinching to the elements and swarming fauna that engulf it. In his hand is a metal leash which leads to the medium sized full pedigree rottweiler, a perfect specimen. The number ‘3’ laser branded into her fur on both sides, each shoulder. The animal “Whines!’ And tries to pull forward, trying to hurry its robotic handler, nothing budges, irritated by the lice and acidic rain no doubt. The synthetic oblivious to the creatures plight continues walking forward towards the compound, its pace to slow for the poor dog and its unable to pull on the lead due to the synthetics strength.
Finally arriving at a large entrance, standing at the large opening the average Joe leans down for the animals collar. “Whoof!” The butcher's dog barks, her jaw opens, no teeth, just gums and the synth “clicks” releasing the leash and its collar. The rottweiler breaks into a sprint, instantly off, barrelling into the facilities eastern extremities seeking shelter from the hellish surface. “Package delivered Artemis…” The average Joe synthetic says, standing, turning and walking away.
“....... Good Boy……”
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
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