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[/center][indent][sub][COLOR=F796A9][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Southern Plateau, Dundas Island[/I] - [I]Pacific Royal Campus[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=F796A9][b]Welcome Home #2.022:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Under Water, Above Board[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=F796A9][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=F796A9][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I] Banjo ([@Hound55]), Gil ([@Roman]) [/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=F796A9][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [COLOR=GRAY][I]Perfectionist[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent]
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Calliope took some centered breaths despite all around her. Her eyes were shut and darkness was all she saw. Despite this, it was a measured peace. Until she heard her voice. What was once associated with an internal monologue she struggled against every day, this one was corporeal. Or at least as much as can be. Calliope’s eyes shot open as another her stepped forward. It was like looking in a mirror. Except this mirror was laced with venom. If condescension was a person, it would be this figure. Another Calliope and one that mocked her and the others. She wasn’t alone though as another Katja stepped forward, one itching for blood.

Calliope tentatively stood up, her breath shaking as she was about to reach for Banjo. More for assurance than anything. Before she could, the duo taunted them one last time before they were shifted elsewhere. It took her time to adjust to her new surroundings.

Eventually, she centered herself and looked around. In the athletic field were scattered machinery in various forms of destruction. They were moved from the others—more than likely in an attempt to separate them further. The intentions were clear: they were not expected to get out of this alive.

Soon the sound of moving parts drew her attention as one of the robots turned to look at them. Followed by another. And another. And another. Red, raw eyes. 

[color=F796A9]“I…I think we’re in trouble.”[/color] She said with a shaky breath. Knowing it was not the time to fall apart. Not yet. 

She was rattled.  Rattled but not broken.  Pushed by a drive towards perfection from a domineering presence over her life, ‘trouble’ was to be feared.  To her, the trouble was to be avoided at all costs.

Trouble was where Banjo lived.

[color=goldenrod]“It’s alright.  Through it is the one way out of this.  So we’re gettin’ through it.  Together.”[/color]

He turned and saw the third wheel.  Gil.

[color=goldenrod]“And him too, I guess…”[/color]

[color=fce205]“Buddy, I’m as glad that I’m here as you are, so can it.”[/color] Gil responded, the rapidly-swinging events around them grating away all his usual patience and good-nature. The Trials were never safe safe, but the university was always in control, and that was an important distinction to make - and one that no longer applied. Gil wasn’t going to wait around to test how much damage the projection-and-neural-uplink combination was really capable of. 

Banjo took no small amount of pleasure in watching the cracks appear in Gil’s usual facade in the absence of the others from their team. [color=goldenrod][I] “Typical.”[/i][/color]  He thought to himself, reaffirming his previous opinions of the actor, a wry smirk creasing across his face.

Gil tapped his fingers together in a quick, unconscious tic as he ran his eyes over everything that surrounded them. The bots were an obvious threat, and Gil hoped they didn’t have anything flashy up their sleeves, and even if the dome and the oceanic environ beyond it were illusions conjured by projection and their neural uplinks, those same tricks would make the several-thousand-tons of water crashing down on them feel very, very real if it were to break through the glass. Up wasn’t an option, and the bots began to crowd them, herding them toward the center of the arena, and away from the doors at the far end.

[color=fce205]“It’s a trap.”[/color] He said aloud, and then cursed himself for being so incredibly, dim-wittedly obvious as the Australian’s sarcastic reply was little more than a singular eyebrow raise. He quickly corrected himself, his voice doubling and then tripling as Gils 2 and 3 stepped forth from him to prepare for the incoming bots. [color=fce205]“What we mean is, whoever this is is trying to keep us stuck in here,”[/color] he indicated to the bots beginning to circle them, [color=fce205]“and away from those doors. So I reckon that’s our best way out.”[/color]

Calliope took some more controlled breaths. She glared at Banjo after his comment about Gil. [color=F796A9]“You both can put whatever feelings you have for the other aside. We are working together here or we’re dead.”[/color] Calli looked around when Gil pointed out the dome and the water. She didn’t want to add that she didn’t put it past the Foundation or whoever set this up to make it so it still felt like they were drowning, even if they weren’t.

She looked around and noticed Gil was right. The robots were doing their best to crowd-control them to the center. If nothing else it was a plan. It was better than pretend drowning in this space. [color=F796A9]“Ok, take down the robots and I will freeze the door controls. Afterwards, Banjo can use his powers to break the lock, hopefully leading elsewhere. Keep the robots at bay in the meantime. Sound good to everyone?”[/color]

[color=goldenrod]“Sounds fantastic.  I mean they’re only training robots.  Likely training robots with the safeties probably disabled, but–”[/color]

As Banjo spoke, they began to reassemble themselves.  They were modular in nature and even capable of combining to become even larger threats, as a few were even demonstrating now.  Most simply took the quickest means to becoming a threat once again, reforming to attack as singular units.

[color=goldenrod]“Better make a move, anyhow.” [/color] He sprinted across the arena and threw a shoulder into the first robot, driving it into a second which broke apart as it attempted to reassemble.

He grabbed a stray robot limb and began clubbing other robots with it, making sure to keep moving and not stay in any one place too long.

[color=goldenrod]“See?  Easy bloomin’ peasy!”[/color]  He said.  Standing once again, amidst an arena of separated individual robot parts.

…which once again began to seek to reassemble.

[color=goldenrod]“Until they do that…”[/color]  The robot arm he was holding tried to turn itself on its hydraulics to grab a hold of his throat.  [color=goldenrod]“Gah!”[/color]  Banjo threw it back in the pile, where it reattached itself to another torso.  [color=goldenrod]“And of course, meanwhile we get more and more tired with every pass.”[/color]

Calliope didn’t need much as she ran towards the door. Some of the robots seemed to sense her goal and got in front of her. Calliope quickly formed an ice shard, sending it careening into and through one of the robots in front of her. She sped forward unleashing a roundhouse kick against the sharded bot as it slammed backward into another one pushing the shard through it as well.

She sped around them but was grabbed by another and pulled her in. She put her palm on its chest and began freezing it from the inside. The robot tightened its grip as she saw ice particles forming. When satisfied she punched through it and pushed it away, sending it to the ground. She could see them reforming, but it still took them some time.

She maneuvered around and got to the door. [color=F796A9]“I’m here. Keep them off me!”[/color] She put her hands on the door controls and summoned as much power as she could. Thankfully the room itself was not without some moisture as she gradually began to freeze the controls.

Gil meanwhile had leapt into the fray behind Banjo, grateful for the projected nature of the Trials as punches and kicks connected with what represented metal but thankfully wasn’t quite as rigid beneath their blows; it still felt just as bad when the retaliation met flesh, though, and Gil could feel bruises blooming beneath his skin already. The trio worked methodically, bouncing bots and each other off themselves, using the momentum to land stronger hits. They had no solar-powered strength or fancy cryokinetics to fall back on; all Gil had was numbers, and he needed to use them.

Gil whipped his head around as Calliope yelled out, pouring her focus into the door. With quick hand signals he gestured to Gil2 and Gil3, and the pair nodded in understanding: cover Calliope. Get that door open. They departed quickly, sprinting across the arena to fend off the bots coming for the ice queen.

The original, meanwhile, scooped a scrap piece of metal rod that had flung off a battered bot and hefted it in his hand, taking a long backhand swing at the nearest approaching bot and following-through as hard-light metal met hard-light metal and sent the bot careening away, sparks flying. A second, identical rod appeared in Gil’s other hand, and with a practiced flick he whipped it through the air; his aim was true, and the sharp, snapped end of the replica rod embedded itself in the chassis of his target. Lights went out in the bot’s eyes, and it crumpled to the floor.
[color=fce205]“They’ve got us eventually, by sheer attrition.”[/color] He remarked, ducking a swing and responding with his own with the rod. [color=fce205]“We need to leave sooner, rather than later.”[/color]

Calli felt the tension behind her as the controls gradually began to freeze. She didn’t just need them cold, she needed them beyond frozen enough for Banjo to power through it. This wasn’t even a guarantee they would get out. On top of it, she still felt panicky but it was a mixed cocktail of anxiety and adrenaline. It was kind of nice to see that she opted for Fight rather than Fly or Freeze.

The robots could see her, she felt. But Gil and Banjo were doing their part and she really wanted to see how Gil handled himself in a fight. But she needed to focus. The controls shimmered as ice coated them. Once she was satisfied, she finished it, feeling the energy sap out of her. She took a tentative step back before turning back to the fray.

[color=F796A9]“It’s done! Banjo, do your thing and everyone cross your fingers it works. Even you robots!”[/color] Banjo’s influence: fighting while joking. 

Banjo raced back towards the door, taking the opportunity to kick over a few more metal menaces in the midst of re-assembling themselves, just as she stepped away to make room.

[color=goldenrod]“Right-o!  And here, we… hup, scuse I, ya bucket a bolts.”[/color]  He slapped a robot aside that stepped in front of the door.

[color=goldenrod]“Go!”[/color]  With a thunderous effort, he rocked back and stomped a boot into the frozen locking mechanism, punching through it and leaving the door unpowered and able to be slid open.

[color=goldenrod]“Go!  Go!  We’ll freeze the door closed behind us!”[/color]  He called back to the others.

[color=fce205]“Right behind you!”[/color] Gil yelled, sprinting for the door as Gil2 and Gil3 yanked it open while continuing to fend off the bots, now threatening to completely swallow them. Banjo was the last one through, and the copies let go of the door, allowing it to slam closed again behind Gil, Calliope and Banjo. Through the thick metal there were distant sounds of destruction and yelling, before suddenly being cut short and falling into silence. The copies were replaceable, but that didn’t make the doubled sound of his own demise any easier on Gil’s ears. 

The trio turned away from the door again; they were in a corridor, sterile and stagnant like the ones from the initial corrupted boot of the simulation, but darker now. There was little light, and the hallway seemed to stretch on forever ahead of them, quiet and shadowed and foreboding. Cautiously, they began to make their way down. There was simply no other direction to go.

Eventually, they came to an end - one that crept up on them, surprising them in the dark, and then confused them with a silent, cryptic riddle. Three doors embedded into the wall, humble and unassuming, but labeled thusly:

CALLIOPE.				ANDREW.					GIL. 

Banjo grunted out a sigh at the name on the door presumably left for him.

[color=goldenrod]“These people…  It’s like everything is bein’ done with the express intent of pissin’ me off.”[/color]

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