[IC] The Outlander [Sci-fi Epic Adventure]

[Kingfisher]

Captain Horrigan

I’ll never get used to the sight of dead children. When I was growing up, as a rosy cheeked little Martian scamp, I had the misfortune of stumbling across a few kids who’d taken a turn for the worse; and those hollow, sunken eyes have been burned into my brain ever since. I’ve seen all sorts of things that’ll make you question your faith in humanity, but it’s the dead children that keep me awake at night.

The poor little Shinarian girl lies there, her skinny body spread out across the cold steel table, gazing up at the celling with an unblinking stare. She has a cherubic prettiness to her, even amongst all this filth and grime; like a lotus flower drifting through a sea of muck.
There are these thick pink marks creeping across her neck, and her lips have gone all withered and black. Someone wanted her Essence.

“Fucking dirt bags...” I muttered to myself.

I pull my gaze away from her, my eyes wandering down to the hand cannon which sits in its holster on my belt. My guiding compass.

A girl I dated once, this redhead nurse, told me about something called ‘Quantum Immortality’. I didn’t quite understand what she was on about, but the general gist seemed to be that when we kick the bucket our brains just relocate us to another dimension, and that there’s no such thing as permanent death. Maybe there’s a dimension where this little girl is still breathing, and I’m not some washed up thug from Mars.

My eyes stay fixed on my hand cannon. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t toyed with the idea of putting a bullet in my brain and seeing if I woke up in some brand spanking new dimension. Heck, at time likes this a great big void of nothing sounds pretty comforting. But I can’t let myself start thinking like that. Shit like that never ends well.

I pull myself away, walking out of the cramped shack with the dead girl, and right into the pouring rain. I guess it’s going to be one of thosedays.

I pull my collar up, but this is one of those downpours which’ll chill you to the bone and soak you right through. My hair becomes damp straw, plastered to my forehead, and I can already feel the rain welling up in my boots. One of those days.

I place a single finger `on my earpiece, shouting to be heard over the rain.

“The tip-off was a waste. The junkies got to her first.”

“Copy that. Return to HQ” comes the muffled reply.

Stalking down grimy roads littered with bombed out houses and other derelict shitholes, the stench of industrial waste thick in my nose, it isn’t long before I bump into Zharuus.
He’s one of those Brotherhood types; a great big beast with grey skin like leather and the blackest eyes you’ve ever seen. Even in body armour he doesn’t look remotely human, what with his claws and shark teeth.

“Captain.” He growls in his gravely drawl.

“Old man.”

“Anything to report?” he asks in his usual straight-to-the-point, no-nonsense fashion.

“Just a dead little girl.”

“You’d think the young ones would’ve learnt to hide themselves, by now.” He ponders

Two kinds of people, I guess.

Gunfire rattles in the distance, cutting through the murky city air.

“Sounds like the gangbangers are at it again.”

“I’d admire their persistence if they weren’t so…breakable.”

We make our way back to HQ together, walking in silence as we focus on navigating the rubble-laden streets and gaping manholes.

Before we snuck our way into Armahford, the Golden Harpy Casino was run by one of Baelzarus VI’s many crime families, and catered to all sorts of shady pass times which went above and beyond roulette wheels. It also just so happened to be one of the most heavily fortified locations in the area, given the mob presence. War broke out between The House of Harnev and the other ‘noble’ families, and pretty soon the Golden Harpy was the only building left on this street still standing.

Our boys have decked it out with all sorts of equipment, and there’s this crazy miss-mash of wires and cables draped across the floor when Zharuus and I finally come strolling in.

“Horrigan.” Specialist Williams greets me with a sharp nod, looking up from the sentry gun he was fiddling with “Glad to have you back. Shame about the girl.”

“We should’ve been quicker.” I grumble. He ignores me.

“Change of plan; the shuttle with the new arrivals is touching down near the old space port in just over half an hour.” He announces “We need you and Zharuus over there to pick up the newbies ASAP.”

I run a hand through my wet mop of hair. “Let me change into my gear and grab a laser musket, then the Old Man and I will double time it over.”

[End Here]

Undocumented Military Facility

“I want the surviving members of the SRA freed too.” His voice was ragged from lack of use. He had long scraggly hair, and a full beard. A guard stepped from the rear of the room, with a touch of a finger the locks around his ankles and wrists snapped open. Simultaneously the five guards behind him snapped to attention, their rifles aimed at him. A sudden move and he’d meet whoever his maker was. The remaining guard who had unbound him almost lept back, avoiding his arms reach. They were wise, and all of them were almost on a familiar level. He knew their names very well and on more than one occasion he’d fought with them. “We have a shuttle prepped and waiting for you on the landing pad. There’s a document of our inventory on the data pad, if you would like to put in a requisition for equipment before you leave, you should do it now.” The suits voice was like velvet, deep and rich. “I hope we are making the right choice, if it wasn’t for our need your scheduled execution next week would be on track.” he finished with a smirk. His whole persona had changed in a heartbeat, it made him seem almost human. Roy gave his retort with little emotion in his voice “Too bad the Grand Duchy is slow to make a decision. I guess this is what we get when bureaucrats rule a society huh?” He stood slowly, not wanting to get gunned down from behind. He took the pad in hand, and began to swipe through their inventory, everything was as expected.

They were only going to offer him whatever scraps the military didn’t actually want. Useless weapons and equipment, things that never passed the Duchy’s basic standard, a standard so low they were basically useless. “What about my old equipment? I know they’re on station. They’re probably out of date but better than this crap, you want me to help save humanity but your broken government can’t bring themselves to giving away anything that could help me.” he said with a snarl. The suit gave a small shrug, pulled out his own pad and with a couple swipes another file appeared on his. It was simply called “SPA, TGF roster.” He raised an eyebrow. Instead of opening the file he turned and left. Walking down the hall the echo of his shadows’ boots was almost unbearable. They guided him to out processing, this part took equally as long as the meeting. Though only about fifteen twenty minutes it seemed like an eternity. He hadn’t had a breath of fresh air in over seven years. The final room before exit was one full of memories good and bad. His armor stood empty to the side of the exit. He approached is carefully, his hand laying gently on the shoulder. It was apart of him, of who he was. He’d used it in the service, and in his own personal war.

There were scorch marks, scars and dents each with its own memory. He looked at the data pad he was still clutching, his thumb tapped the roster, it was filled with names, three thousand seven hundred and twenty one names. He knew the exact number without having to look. The key in the corner said red, for killed and green for alive. As he scrolled he found only one name in green, it was his. His heart sank, and he tossed the pad onto the table. After getting suited up he stood before the door, with a deep breath, a final taste of incarceration he stepped through the exit. The wind blasted him first and the air was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. He was rushed towards the shuttle which was hot online and ready to go. Once on board he found the lock box, with the final bit of his gear. His rifle had as many memories as his armor. He looked over its utilitarian design, setting it on his lap, he grabbed hold of the hand hold made to prevent a person from falling over during launch and soon the ship was on path with the final destination. Roy eyed the crewman who was riding with him, he could kill them here and now, hijack the transport take it to the capitol and really show The Duchy what vengeance means. The crew chief spoke up interrupting his thoughts. “They should have killed you when they had the chance. Now we’re setting you free with weapons? I hope they know what you’re doing.” he said coldly. Something happened inside of him, it started low and bubbled to the surface, he burst out laughing, and couldn’t stop it was hysterical and uncalled for. “You...you’ve no idea, I couldn’t… I couldn’t agree more with you!” he doubled over with laughter. The Crewmen stared at him with some confusion. “I was just thinking about killing you and taking this craft.” he breathed out, regaining his composure.

Baelzarus VI

The rest of the flight was less eventful, the crew watched him like hawks now. The scene below was chaotic as they did a flyover they were landing at an old space port the crew was a bit jumpy. “There’s been some sort of civil conflict here, your team should be meeting us down there. It looks like we might be the first to arrive. Don’t try to run we’re here to make sure you don’t escape until your new handlers arrive.” The crew chief spat out as they made their landing. The doors were wide open now, when they got close he and the crew jumped out and they secured the landing zone, his weapon drawn. “Clear left” he shouted to the crew, his stance was slightly hunched his eyes scanning the horizon. He heard the all clear and they took a knee. The Shuttle was hovering ready for a speedy take off in case of ambush. “We’re ten minutes ahead of scheduled landing, we hold this position until other shuttles arrive or the handlers arrive.”

[rivaan]

Being rocked away in the seat of the shuttle she was riding in, Angel, looked through the small window down at the planet they were heading to. She made a grimace at the familiar sight, planets from the Faded kingdom always were grim and depressing even from space, but this one looked even worse than most.” Never expected I will be returning in this sector again...” She muttered to herself, remembering bad moments from her childhood. She agreed to this job, because the pay was good enough to basically retire from flying on random transports so she can pay the bills so to say. She hoped one day to open a repair shop on one of the worlds where space races were held. She had been there on an occasion when she was demanded for her specific abilities, but to open up shop there, costed immense amount of cash, it wasn't something she can just collect doing routine flight mechanic duties, while having to also pay for essence. That body need was too costly on her wallet.

Suddenly the shuttle rocked, tearing her away from her thoughts as she quickly reached to the handle of the seat. They were passing through the atmosphere, she looked through the small window once again. Well there was no going back now, from here on it was all a matter of surviving this hellhole and living long enough to get her pay so she can open that small repair shop she always wanted.

As the vessel they were riding on finally stabilized, she quickly checked her equipment. She first pulled the smaller handgun she had that was hanging on her right hip. It was her W&S 57-Alpha, made by the company Winters&Sons, this handgun was one of the many that continued the tradition of standard old school firearms. Of course materials had changed significantly since the distant past. The bullets used by this pistols were made by alloys hard enough to pierce thin layers of materials used for some spaceships and it's blasting gel used in the bullets certainly gave it the speed needed to reach even truly distant targets. After making sure her main weapon was in order, she quickly pulled the one that was on the back of her waist. At first glance it looked like a plasma revolver, utilizing a standard issue plasma clip, but on closer inspection a fine number of small differences could be found, including the very specific, wolf's skull that's biting a bone, insignia on the handle. Nicknamed 'The hound', this is a special variation of the plasma revolvers. Made by unknown traveling inventors, for specific people, this gun is incredibly hard to come by. Where the standard plasma revolver can fire multiple up to a few dozen weaker plasma bolts, The hound utilizes the entire clip in one single shot, incredibly powerful and especially useful against heavily armored targets as the super heated plasma sticks to the targets and just heats and melts the armor even more. Following that, she reached to check the small kit of tools that was hanging on her left hip. The case of the kit was made from metal used for combat ship armors thus ensuring the survival of the delicate instruments within. Those were tools for repairing spaceship systems and were incredibly hard to come by for Angel. She had to take nearly a year with little to no Essence so she can afford these. It was fair to say those were her most prized possessions and she was ready to injure... and kill for them. Everything else she already knew was on her, because aside the clothes on her back, the small PDA was attached to her sleeve and her credit chip was inside her arm. That was all her possession in the moment.

As the shuttle landed, she quickly rose from her seat, but wasn't the first to head to the exit hatch. Ohh noes, she knew well enough sometimes there were thugs waiting to shoot the first moment the hatch on arriving shuttles opened. When she finally exited last, she noticed the landing zone was secured in advance by what appeared to be armed forces of some kind. She now took a good look around, breathed the air and listened to the wind... The taste of decay and ruin was everywhere and the sound of distant gunshot was ringing in her ears.” Baelzarus VI … this is even more of a pit than my birth planet...” She muttered distastefully. She now looked around to find her new captain. She was used to change them a lot since she always changed cargo ships. She needed to at least remember his face.

[McHaggis]

.

[Raxacoricofallapatorius]

Sciurus Rowan

All of Baelzarus VI's spaceports were hazardously questionable at best, but the oldest operational one, commonly called "the Heap" was far below any fantasy standard the locals pretended to have. The Heap was little more than a junkyard that captains and pilots happened to mistake for a good place to dock. The west side of the field consisted of a collapsed hanger and scrappy remains of a couple broken-down vessels from about a hundred years ago. It was the kind of place mothers warned their children not to play, and when the children disobeyed their bodies usually turned up a few days later, or not at all. In spite of it's ruinous state though, the Heap was always bustling with activity. Shipping regulations and customs were all but nonexistent, and it was a hotspot for smugglers and drug traffickers. Every few years there would be a military raid, but those were so infrequent and ineffective that very little business was lost. It was an ideal place to put in if you didn't want anybody to ask questions.

Rowan's presence caused no disturbance whatsoever in the port. The shuttle bearing him from the neighboring world of Osca where his last job had been arrived early in the day, giving him a few hours to kill before Horrigan was supposed to meet him and whoever else had signed on for this questionable mission. To pass the time he started a game of dice with one of the local dealers. By the time late afternoon rolled around he'd won a pair of industrial goggles, a gold pendant necklace, two rings, and 1,000 credits. He'd swapped the dealer's dice for his own loaded pair early on, of course, and was about to roll for double-or-nothing when a commotion broke out on the landing field. Gathering up his prizes, Rowan tossed the original dice back to the dealer and wished him a good day. He put the rings on the thumb and middle finger of his left hand, tucked the necklace into a pocket, and pulled the goggles on over his head. They might have been old but they had a telescopic effect similar to the targeting feature built into the headgear of his own suit.

Looking toward the disturbance, Rowan saw a military-grade shuttle coming into land. As soon as she touched down a dozen or so soldiers jumped out to create a perimeter around the vessel. Rowan burst out laughing. "These new kids think they're really something, eh?" he said to a local bystander, who was also looking in the direction of the new arrivals. The other man just stared at him with an alarmed expression. Judging by his sunken eyes and pallid complexion, the druggie was pretty far gone. "No worries, egg-face." Rowan gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, "It's not a raid, you can continue on with your pathetic existence without interruption."

Egg-face seemed to contemplate whether or not he should react to the insult, and in the end just shrugged before shuffling away. "I suppose this means the Cap'n will be arriving anytime now," he mused to himself, taking up a position not far from the main street running through the port to watch for the rest of the crew. It wasn't long before two more shuttles joined the first. Shouldn't Captain Horrible or whatever-his-name-was be there already? Maybe he was running late. Or maybe he'd gotten knocked off by some gang. Initially, Rowan had attempted to locate him upon his arrival, but it seemed that he didn't want to be located and there was no record of his stay in any tavern or motel, at least on this side of the city. Given a day or so the assassin could have found him, probably, seeing as it was his job to find people who didn't want to be found. Well, dicking around was just easier at this point, he might as well save his energy for whatever task lay ahead.

Stealing another look at the shuttles and the passengers disembarking, he thought he recognized one of the scurrying figures. At first he almost missed it, a smallish person who seemed to fade into the background, easy to overlook. The person seemed familiar somehow, but couldn't quite place it. Well, he'd find out soon enough. As soon as Captain Horrible showed up anyway.

[DJAtomika]

Dr. Simon Brewer
PCMS Tartarus
In orbit above Baelzarus IV

"Doc?"

"One second."

The tall, brown haired man leaned over a display and tapped a pad. On the large monitor ahead of him a patch of cells zoomed in and focused, details on chemical and biological makeup slowly filtering in on the side monitors. The man scribbled onto the holopad in his hands, even as the door to his lab swished quietly open to admit another younger man in a uniform.

"Doc -"

"Ah, Jenkins, excellent. Tell me, what do you see here?"

"A bunch of cells but -"

"No not just cells, Jenkins. These are the basis for a new lifeform! All solely on its ability to thrive in harsh conditions and adapt to any environment! Watch."

The man tapped on his holopad and the display lit up, heat beginning to rise from the lab table ahead of him. On the display the cells squirmed and some died as they were suddenly subjected to the extreme heat, but within moments they had changed their entire makeup to match those of a stronger, hardier cell, those that adorned scales of reptile scales. With another tap, he changed the environment to extreme cold, and the cells again suffered, but within the span of a minute they had clumped together, sharing mass to conserve energy and to maximise efficiency. With an eager grin he turned back to the young man.

"I call it the Theria strain. One day this discovery will change modern medicine forever!"

"Yeah that's cool doc but you're needed on the bridge. Full regalia. Captain's orders."

The man's face fell.

"Oh, is it time?"

Jenkins nodded.

" 'M afraid so, doc."

He sighed and powered off the display, before advancing to the table to stow his samples.

"Tell captain Hughes I'll be a few minutes. I need to get dressed."

---

"Captain."

"Doctor Brewer."

The two men stood on the bridge of an impressive looking starship. Clad in armour, stark white, with a red cross painted on the bow, the Tartarus was a stunning example of human craftsmanship. The ship itself was an aid vessel, designed and crafted with one goal in mind: to heal. The red cross on the bow exemplified this goal; an ancient human custom, known once as the Geneva Convention, now evolved into something intergalactic. The Galactic Medical Rights Act now served as the law by which most corporations, planets and governments recognised the importance of battlefield healthcare and, if faced with such troops during a war, a declaration and promise that no harm would befall those marked with the red cross. Such a ship, in this part of the galaxy, attracted much attention, as evidence by Captain Hughes' reluctance to stay in orbit.

"We got you far enough, Doctor Brewer."

"And I am ever grateful, captain."

As the two men stared at the planet's surface, the captain gave him a glance.

"Are you sure you're ready for your new assignment?"

Simon returned the glance and smiled, giving the captain a pat on the shoulder.

"Relax, Hughes. I'll be fine. Not the first time I'm serving aboard another vessel."

"Yeah but the last vessel you were on tried to kill you, remember?"

Simon grimaced. The Staedtler. That ship.

His mind flew back to that deployment. PharmCo had told him that the Staedtler was a Duchy colony vessel found adrift out in deep space out in the Kyrus sector of Andromeda, and had dispatched him there alongside a full deployment of Duchy troops. What they hadn't told him was that the ship was also part of a fleet of black ops science vessels, isolated in that area of deep space purely for isolation reasons, so that what twisted, depraved experiments they came up with wouldn't spread to other, more populated areas of the galaxy. The only reason why they were sending him to the Staedtler was purely for research reasons, and to assist the troopers there in containing any threats, for the ship was slowly drifting towards a colony planet. When they breached its hull and ventured into its depths, they found only death. Death in the form of a hostile flesh-eating bacterial plague. It had lain dormant since before their arrival, but upon discovering new victims, the vicious flesh-eating plague had gone to work devouring his team underneath their armour and suits like it was a trivial matter. On final extraction, lost and rapidly losing men, Simon had requested a complete and total destruction of the Staedtler, which had gone through. He still doubted the ship remained in one piece after the bombardment it suffered. PharmCo had claimed ownership of the wreckage from the Duchy, and to this date they were still processing and sterilising every piece of ship they got, in the hopes that pathogen containment would successfully eradicate all traces of the plague before it settled on any colony world.

"Yes well last I heard one hundred percent containment was still a possibility."

"A possibility, doc. Nothing more."

Simon sighed and nodded in mute agreement. A moment of awkward silence passed between them, before the captain spoke again.

"Your shuttle's already prepped and ready to go, doc. We'll be holding here in orbit until you've confirmed your attachment to the Outlander crew, at which point we'll bug out and leave you to it. Your long range transmission capabilities are functional, yes?"

"Of course, captain."

He nodded.

"Good, then head to the shuttle bay, doctor. Remember to keep in touch with us. Luck be with you."

Simon nodded in return.

"I'll see you soon, captain."

"Hopefully sooner and not later, doc."

---

In transit, Simon sat. The shuttle was cruising down towards the planet's surface, heading for the city's main "spaceport", if one could call a rusted, broken junkyard a spaceport. The shuttle didn't even have space to land; he was due for a very low altitude drop. The shuttle would bug out and Simon would be in for the long haul.

As the shuttle dropped slowly towards the surface of Baelzarus IV, the doctor performed a final check on his gear. His battle rifle slash medigun laid on his lap, and the rest of his kit was harnessed or clipped onto his combat rigging on the exterior of his armour. His helmet, attached to the collar of his armour, was folded and stowed in its compartments; at any time he could simply tap a button on his wrist and the helmet would unfold and form around his head. Amazing how much technology had advanced in the past few centuries, and yet places like these were still fetid dumps.

"Alright we're on approach. Two minutes."

The pilot spoke up from the cockpit. They were close. Through the shuttle windows, he could stare out at the city beneath; a squalid dump, comprised mostly of slums and streets. Simon grimaced; he'd been in worse, but the condition of the city simply appalled him. He was doubtful the place even had a hospice, much less a functioning, clean hospital.

Well, a far cry from civilisation but at least it's still a city, right? Couldn't be that bad.

The shuttle slowed in its descent as the city loomed up around it. The bay door opened, its lip a short distance away from the ground. Simon gripped his rifle and stood.

"We're here, doctor. Luck be with you, stay safe."

"Thank you. I'll be in touch soon."

With that he walked to the edge and hopped out, boots impacting the rusted metal of the dock. Above him the shuttle's engines roared to life as it hovered and then flew away. He shielded his eyes from the backwash, even as the muggy cool air of the city settled in around him. Then Simon made his way off dockside to the waiting area below, nervous but also a little excited at the journey to come.

Here, in the mottled browns and grays, his stark white armour stood out the most, the red cross on his shoulders the most recognisable out of anything. If this...Captain Horrigan had personnel dossiers on his new crew, he'd be able to spot the doctor. Was like trying to find a flower amidst a sea of shite, which meant easily enough.

[my Lalia]

Brea Moirai

The flight to Baelzarus VI was a short one, as she was on a planet not far from it. From what she heard this planet was a hell hole, but she was use to that. She was born on a planet which no one cared about and was full of crime, so this was nothing new. Plus she didn't often go to the well to do planets, as the people would look down at her like she was a stain on their pretty shoes that they wanted to be rid of as quickly as possible. So she stayed on the shit pots and hell holes of planets, at least no one on them looked at her like she dirt. She blended well with those that were forgotten and unwanted.

Brea felt the little shuttle rattle and shake as they began to enter the atmosphere of the planet. She hoped that the vessel would be able to make it to the ground as it wasn't in the greatest of shape. Unlike most, or she figured anyway, she had to charter her own ride to the planet. None of the other shuttle owners would take her, as one, they didn't want to risk their ship being shot down, and two, she didn't have a lot of money to offer them. The fucker that agreed to take her was an insane bloke who got off pushing his shit of a shuttle to the limits. Suddenly the ship stopped shaking and a small smirk played on her lips, they made it into the planets atmosphere but now they ran the risk of being shot down.

"You going to check out your equipment, beauty?" The pilot asked as he took the ship down to the planets surface.

Brea shook her head slightly, she knew that her things were good and she didn't need to check on them. Some of them were ancient and were bound to fail at some point, she wasn't too worried about it. The only things that she had that was remotely new was her Firefly military grade armour, though it was older than the ones that were currently being used, her GX rifle which she had taken off a dead merc who had tampered with it. It could shoot three different types of ammo, which was rather useful in a fire fight. The only other thing that was new (like top of the line new) was her Bix8 eye glass, it was a mini computer that increased her vision in her left eye, but it was also a targeting system and spyware. She loved it.

The ship suddenly veered to the left and she was pushed into her seat. She could hear the captain curse as he navigated his ship through the oncoming enemy fire. Brea clenched her jaw but knew if she were to die there was nothing to do about it. Sure she wanted to live but she knew if it was her time then it was her time. She only hoped that she would come back as something or someone better and greater than what she was.

"Spaceport ahead beautiful, better be ready to get off." He said over his shoulder as he guided his bird in for a landing or hovering, she wasn't sure what he was going to do. Obviously the enemy fire got the man scared, he was insane but not stupid. He cared for his ship even if he pushed it to the limits and was a piece of junk. But she guessed it was all he had and had grown attached to it. She never grew attached to anything or anyone, well that wasn't exactly true, but it was true enough.

Grabbing the small bag that was attached under her seat, she waited for the shuttle to land. A part of her was excited to be a part of this, while the other part of her was nervous as she knew that everyone else would most likely be specialized in some failed of work. Like for one she expected a few to be part of the Searing Guns or was it the Blazing Gauntlet? She wasn't too sure as none of the planets she happen to be on had any of those Church people on them. They were said to be protectors of humanity, but she thought it as a joke at best, as she has seen hell and no superhero Church person ever came to save the day or the people suffering on planets like this.

Shutting her eyes she felt the ship lower until the soft jolt told her that she had landed. She didn't wait for the captain to say she could get up, she was already at the door waiting for it to open.

"Take care beauty."

She gave a quick nod and let her eyes show gratitude towards the man before bringing up her hood and veil. Once the door opened she jumped out, not caring if a hail of bullets were waiting for her. She moved away from the small ship as it began to take off. The air of the planet was like all the other planets she has been on, it smelled of decay, death and smoke. It smelled like home, well to her anyway. She looked around the spaceport, her Bix8 picking up life forms and outlining them for her. If she was anyone else who specialized in war or killing, they would of had the advantage. But not so much her, if anything it let her know how many were on the field and where she could hide if things went to hell.

She made her way to whatever waiting area that she needed to go to. She paid no mind to those that were there, if they were part of the team or what have you, then great. But she could care less, though the white one was sure to get shot just for the hell of it. If you wanted to survive, you must blend. She wondered if the dude had ever seen combat or been on shit pots like this. If he had then he was either really brave or overly stupid. The other people she noticed looked military.

"What a sausage fest." She mumbled as noticed that most on the platform were male.

She walked with a confidence that only one who was use to living in such conditions, like on this planet, could have. She leaned on an old piece of wall or at least she thought it was a wall, it was hard to tell what it was. For all she knew it could of been a space craft that was shot down or crashed. She didn't spend too much time thinking about as she didn't feel like thinking. There would be time for thinking later, but for now she just wanted to veg.

Anyone who saw her would of noticed how oddly comfortable she was and most likely would of mistaken her for a local if she hadn't just arrived on a shuttle.

[Kingfisher]

Zharrus waited impatiently whilst the human changed into his combat gear, before they both headed out into the rubble ridden wasteland of Baelzarus VI. Huge, dilapidated towers of cracked stone and blasted out glass loomed all around them, and the explosive blasts of far off battles seemed to vibrate through the very air itself. The twisted metal carcasses of old Sky Cars were strewn about the streets, and a grimy grey clouded sky hung above them.

There was a constant feeling of damp irradiation about the city, which made Zharrus' head throb, and his body thick with sweat. The Old Man's form ached with old war wounds as they scrambled over the jagged piles of concrete and metal. He was tired. One way or another, this would be his last campaign.

The spaceport was old and rusted, long past its prime after the countless conflicts it had been forced to endure, but it nevertheless maintained an element of Gothic splendour. Drum-like pillars of peeling reddish brown metal supported a network of inter-connecting bridges and domes which glistened with flickering yellow lights. There was a small sandy clearing for shuttles to land in, which was where the cluster of arrival's currently made their home.

Zharrus made note of the newcomers, and the small militia which seemed to have accompanied the prisoner they'd been told to expect.

Captain Horrigan strode passed Zharrus, clambering up onto a mound of rusty brown earth.

"Listen up, guys and gals!" He called out in his smooth, authority-ridden voice.

"We've got a long mission ahead of us, and this city is just the tip of the icyberg! I should suspect we'll all be getting to know each other pretty well over the next couple months or so, but for now lets just focus on-"

BANG!

A single shot echoed throughout the space-port.

Horrigan stopped, mid-speech, a small trail of blood trickling down from between his eyes. He swayed slightly, before his lifeless corpse toppled to the ground with a distinct 'THUD!'.

"FOR THE HOUSE OF HARNEV!"

They slipped out from behind towers and pylons, wielding all sorts of improvised weaponry. Frail, husks of men with milk-pale skin and sunken black eyes. They were clad in a motley combination of scarps and body-armour, and made no reservations about opening fire at the newcomers as soon as they charged out of cover.

Zharrus cursed under his breath. He would mourn the captain later.

Taking a diving roll, he slid behind a large boulder, popping up briefly to fire off a few rounds at the attackers, before ducking back down.

Things were about to get messy.

[Themerlinhawk]

The slow patter of rain had been beating on the brim of his hat and the back of the older man's cloak for an hour or two. Perched on some overturned barrels his hands were engaged with a component puzzle that was suppose to form a decahedron. The components were differently cut edged pieces. The man held them between his fingers as he manipulated the completed portion of the puzzled with his thumb and first fingers turning it and using the other fingers to try the various pieces. His head twitches up as individuals arrived. Doubtlessly other crew members.

The only time the man's eyes tracked someone was when the spy from his order arrived. fascinating The man made a grunt of revelation and with a few quick motions snapped the remaining pieces into place completing the puzzle. With the he unzipped the duffle bag at his feet and tucked it away with the rest of his collection.

The current crew present did not bode well for any of them. It was beginning to become apparent that The Church had decided that he was expendable. A chuckle wracked the man's body. It had taken half a life time but he'd gotten use to the idea that he'd die somewhere far from people and probably without purpose. At Least this way, he'd finally get some answers to the questions that had always plagued him. Faces to the whispers in the dark.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shot rang out and Henry rolled backwards fluidly drawing his liberator and loading the scatter rounds into it. Popping up from behind the barrel he unloaded into the charging line with the anti personnel rounds. When fired the bullets had a second slower charge inside them that detonated again in mid air creating a hail of flettche which would turn any unarmored part of the body into a fine red mist. Heaven help anyone who got hit by the bullets before they detonated for the second time.

Ejecting the first empty cylinder Henry replaced it with a cylinder of Fracture rounds. The slugs from these rounds did something similar to the scatter rounds only it was upon impact that their design caused them to spiral outwards and the chunks to tumble through the body. It had the added effect of being capable of cutting through light and some medium armor because of the buzzsaw effect of the projectiles design and the spin of the bullet.

The first four he hit had their insides liquefied by the bullets before he was forced to swoop from his current position to another set of barrels where he open fired over the top of the cluster of barrels. Replacing the cylinder for the third time. Another set of Fracture rounds. Pity he hadn’t brought some other firearms. This would have to do. Standing Henry unloaded into a group of terrorists as he walked towards them. The roar of the massive revolver making him look like the coming of judgement as it spat fire and dealt death.

"Fools."

[End Here]

BANG!

In a fluid motion he pivoted on his right foot, his arm hooking one of the guards around his neck. He yanked the guard in front of him as a shield, and soon after the rounds impacted causing a spray of blood from the man. His comrades fell shortly after. He dropped the meat shield, and made a mad dash for cover. The drop ship immediately departed leaving the fallen. He dropped and slid for the cover of rubble. It wasn’t enough for his whole body, so he laid in prone. He began to lay down cover fire so that his new comrades can grab some shelter. With each squeeze of the trigger his rifle answered with a bark. His keen eyes located the man in charge, laying in a pool of his own blood his comrade had left him behind. He was more than disgusted with the beast. Something rash was formulating in his mind, he felt the itch in his body. He would leave the body of the commander in the center of the field. The rock exploded in front of him as a hail of bullets landed around him bringing him back to reality. Chips pinging off his armor, he was well aware that he was terribly exposed. He calmed his breathing and waited for an opportunity. An old man walked into the oncoming men their attention turning towards him. His course of action became clear.

He lept from his cover and moved forwards, he unleashed a hail of bullets, as he flanked right of the men. He worked with the brim hatted man, catching them in a crossfire, his battle rifle rang true and he watched several of the men crumple and fall. It was sickening to think his own people would act as The Duchy riff raff would. He dropped his magazine, and quickly reloaded another in. It landed with a clatter onto the rubble filled ground. His feet kicking the spent magazine across the deck. Roiger kept moving to the right. He grabbed a plasma grenade from his hip and rolled it in between a cluster of the assailants,then with a brilliant flash and a small scream the men were reduced to glowing pools of plasma which ate at the metal plating under their feet. The sound of boots to his right caused him to spin, and fire in a single motion, the man dropped behind him a woman also fell his rounds had over penetrated, he felt no qualms and turned back to the other attackers. He pressed on his attack, shooting down any man who tried to emerge from the rubble, between the two of them they were putting up a decent defence, though the numbers of the gang seemed nearly endless. Eventually if they were smart they’d give in.

He gave another group emerging from the rubble a spray of bullets, his rounds tore their flesh asunder, each bullet was designed to turn into a fan blade and shred flesh and armor alike. The center of the bullet had a penetrating tip. Through the sounds of battle he could hear the quiet moans of the fallen enemies. A round ricocheted off his shoulder guard and flew off with a zing. Then another off his leg plate, he focused his fire on the few who were directing at him, they had split their attention between the old man and himself. He fired his weapon with on hand as he grabbed another mag, he knocked the old one out and replaced it, his firing was ceased for only a moment or two. Drawing back the bolt he jacked another shell into the chamber. The magnetic rounds were fired at near the speed of light and as such they tore their victims apart. He fired diligently, switching from target to target as he slew each one, they posed almost no threat, in the crossfire in which they were trapped. Then another shell pinged off his armor, he changed his field of firing, now having to deal with his own horde, their kill field dissipated as he dealt with those that charged him. Bullets and even a few energy based weapons impacted around him. “You want some? Come and get it you DOGS!” They charged him running straight for his position firing from the hip and melee weapons. He cut them down left and right, his rifle showing them to their maker.

[rivaan]

‘He looks respectable enough at least…’ Angel thought before she heard the shot. It took her a moment to recognize who the target was as her new captain fell to the ground lifeless. Her eyes twitched at the shouts appearing from the direction of the old pillars and pylons and every other cover there was. “I bloody knew it!” She shouted as she quickly jumped backwards and rolled behind an old piece of some kind of craft.

As the firefight ensued, she quickly pulled the pistol from her hip and immediately rolled to another cover, this one slightly bigger. Angel immediately peeked above, and began shooting at the very bad equipped enemies. She was almost surprised at the state of equipment they had, but it only made things that much easier. Each shot pretty much passed right through the husks of her people, not that she cared about it. As far as she was concerned every last person from the Shiranus Domain was an enemy and was ready to slit her throat or drain all essence from her still living body if he got the chance. She felt no qualms killing those fools. As her bullets tore through their flesh, she quickly pulled the handcannon of a pistol that was resting on the back of her waist. She pulled the trigger, aiming at a group that was heading their way. The plasma bolt howled through the air, as it collided with the first enemy on it’s path, melting nearly his whole body and leaving a pile of hot plasma on the ground. That was sure to give those fools a reason to stop for a moment to decide what to do, but she quickly used the chance to shoot them with her normal pistol.

The clip of her gun quickly emptied and she hid behind her cover yet again. She had a few more clips hidden on her, so she quickly changed it. It was just in time too, as another batch started pouring through from a direction that left her completely exposed. Angel started shooting straight away, the moment she saw the first head show around that corner. Using the chance she created for herself by shooting at them, Angel jumped towards another cover, the shots fired at her, barely missing her.

“Who’s bright idea was to bring us in this bloody junkyard!?” She exclaimed in anger, doing her best to hide behind her cover as shots hit all around her. The mechanic also took the chance to change the plasma clip on her plasma revolver, immediately shooting it at the cover the enemies were using. The superheated great plasma bolt basically melted a huge hole in it, allowing her to shoot at them some more. She was going to feel so good if she got the chance to drain some of those guys… just from spite!

[my Lalia]

Brea Moirai

The misting rain was a little annoying but there was nothing she could do about it, she only hoped that the leader would come soon as she didn't want to be out in the open for too long. Just as she thought that her Bix8 suddenly picked up two life signs, she looked up to see a large tired looking man and.... what? She was surprised to see someone from the Brotherhood of Mahrl as they didn't like being around humans. But a part of her suddenly felt at ease, as she knew the those of the Brotherhood were tough son's of a bitches. She knew most would look at the alien with suspicion, but she would probably be looking at him for more guidance than the human. Though that was habit, she was trained and raised by one from the Brotherhood in her young adult life.

A bang suddenly rang out and before she knew what was going on she ducked down behind the "wall" she had been leaning on. Her Bix8 told her that the old captain was dead, she cursed under her breath as she grabbed her rifle. She didn't move fast, she took her time making sure her weapon was loaded a and ready to go.

"One, two, three." She said lowly before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"Four, five, six." She continued before taking another deep breath.

"Seven, eight, nine..... Ten" She took in a final deep breath while her rifle up and turned slightly so she could line up her shots. She wasn't going to waste her ammo, so every shot she took was near perfect head shots. She could feel the kick back of the rifle in her shoulder as reach shot left the chamber. She could see her targets head explode and paint everything around it in a sticky liquid.

Just then her hands began to shake, she took cover and while she was reloading she began to count and breath again. It was something that Moirai had taught her to do when she felt overwhelmed, or out of control or when she felt like she couldn't be brave.

As she went to take aim again one of the husk looking people came around and aimed his plasma pistol at her head. Without missing a beat Brea hit the weapon away just as the man pulled the trigger. Caught off guard the man dropped his pistol, she went to bring up her rifle but the husk moved fast and kicked her in the chest. She fell back, but it felt like it was in slow motion as she could see the man still coming at her with murder plain in his eyes. She had seen that look many times in many people across the known galaxies.

"Survive Brea, turn off your mind!"

Moirai's rang through her head as she felt her back connect with the ground. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them she was no longer the same person. The man was nearly on top of her when she pulled out a ten inch obsidian Military blade and planned it into the man's chest. She didn't wait to see the life drain from his eyes as she pulled the knife out and got up. She could hear the whizzing of enemy fire pass her head but she payed that no mind. She simply grabbed her rifle and began shooting again, but the bastards were fast and were closer than before, so she switched to her old automatic plasma gun. But even then some got too close and she was forced to use her blade again.

She was unthinking and with no emotion, the only things going through her head were the words "Survive, kill, survive, watch left side." She was what Moirai taught her to be when things got tough, as he knew that she was a sensitive being, and that sensitivity needed to be turned off.

As she shot someone's face off she felt pain bloom on her left side. She looked down to see that one of the bullets happen to find the weak spot in her armour. She quickly found the bastard that shot her and killed him before taking cover. She placed her hand over the wound and bit her lip as the pain brought her back to her thinking self.

"Shit, this is going to ruin my day." She said as she tried to keep fighting, but the pain made her slow. She hoped that she wouldn't bleed out, not now, not when there was so much for her to do.

[Kingfisher]

Zharuus hissed in pain as a bullet whizzed into his shoulder, erupting in an agonising spray of dark red blood. He bobbed out of cover, firing off a three-round burst from his rifle, which sent several of the bandits tumbling into the dirt, before ducking back down.

The new arrivals seemed to be doing well in holding their own. Perhaps there is hope for us yet.

One of the bandits came creeping over to Zharrus' hiding place, his heavy footfalls betraying his approach. When the bandit was practically ontop of him, Zharrus lept upwards, grabbing the thug by the scruff of his neck and slamming him onto the ground. Before he could react, a long black talon had pierced his jugular, and he was left to gasp and choke as the last few fragments of life oozed out of him in a sickly red trickle.

More and more of the bandits came pouring out from the metalwork, in a seemingly endless tide of hate and desperation. Probably looking for their next fix.

"With me, comrades!" Zharuus barked to the newcomers "We'll loose them in the city."

Zharrus took a running leap, ducking and weaving behind whatever scrap metal he could find as bullets pinged all around him. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, but the junkie bandits had poor aim and shaky hands, which might just save his life.

The old man scrambled up over a sandy bank, a bullet whizzing into the soil right next to his head, and exploding in a grainy puff of yellow.

That was far too close for my liking.

Hoping that the group was following him, Zharrus went bolting off back into the ruins of Armahford, sprinting with all the bestial might he could muster.

We just need to make it back to the Casino...we'll be safe there.

[DJAtomika]

Simon

"Hmm."

The good Captain arrived, as did the rest of their motley crew. He began a speech, and then was promptly put down by a bullet between the eyes. That was when gunfire began pouring into the spaceport as thugs and goons from some unknown source started shooting at the team, prompting everyone to duck and cover and return fire.

Simon's brain kicked into combat mode as he ran, boots thumping against the metal as he vaulted over a crate and hid behind it while bullets flew and whistled past him. Pressed up against the crate, he tapped his wrist twice and braced as his helmet folded up and around his head, the interface displayed within flashing instantly into life as it began a scan of the immediate area using both optical and aural scanners to locate and identify friendlies and hostiles. He risked being shot to peek up over his cover and his HUD identified every other uncovered individual that was shooting his way, marking them and their companions in red. Then, as he ducked back behind cover, he swept his vision both to his left and right to capture his allies, marked in blue.

He sighed and gripped his rifle tighter, taking in a breath and slowly exhaling, before swinging out from his cover, sighting on the first of their many aggressors. Simon squeezed the trigger of his rifle, and it roared loud, louder than any of the other firearms in the area as the powerful laser cutter and magnetic rail assembly within his firearm tore a chunk of molten metal from its ammunition bay and shot it directly at the man. The metal bolt, cooling rapidly in the air, still retained enough heat to sizzle on impact with the man's flesh, blowing a good sized chunk out of the left side of his body while severing his arm at the shoulder. Another trigger squeeze and a second bolt spat, pounding into another target's torso and blowing a hole straight through him. A third shot roared from his rifle and it blew a man's gun into pieces, along with his hands and much of his forearms. A fourth shot into the screaming man's torso ended his suffering as quickly as it had started.

Simon ducked back down behind cover as details of his allies began filtering into his HUD. He still didn't have any names, but their races and vitals slowly filled a ticker that attached to their silhouettes in his vision. Mostly human, with one beast man in their party, along with a female. A curious bunch, he absently noted, but a well formed team nonetheless.

Then, three rather important things happened at once. Firstly and secondly, both the lone lady and the beast man took hits, evidenced by their significantly increased heart rate and dropping blood pressure levels. Following that, the beast man stood and yelled for a general retreat as he ran backwards towards the far end of the junkyard. Withholding his status as a doctor for the moment, Simon simply complied, firing off a few more unaimed shots to suppress their enemies before darting off in hot pursuit. He managed to catch up with the beast man, whose name was still unknown to him, and yelled at him, the speakers on his armour's shoulders amplifying his voice to be audible over the gunfire. As he spoke, he shifted half of his attention to his rifle, where he turned a knob on one side of the gun, pulled a slide and slipped in a thin, translucent plastic magazine.

"Sir! I am a doctor and you appear to have been shot! Allow me to aid you!"

And without regard for the man's opinion on things he pointed his rifle ahead of where he was running and fired. The capsules he shot made almost no noise as they left his gun and exploded against the floor in clouds of a fine, white mist, straight in Zharrus' path.

"Run through the clouds, friend! They are painkillers! They will dull the pain you are no doubt suffering from in your shoulder!"

His other patient, the lady, was some ways behind him, but the retreat was their priority and he'd follow it to the letter. For now, anyway.

[Themerlinhawk]

Henry

Retreat? Well. Hopefully we have a plan. The older man blew from his cover empting a cylinder of his scatter shots in a wide arc providing suppression for the retreat as he rolled into cover behind his retreating allies. Switching the cylinder he let go with another salvo of fire as he back from cover. Ah Henry snagged his bag from the ground as he danced backwards narrowly avoiding incoming fire. As soon as he was sure everyone was behind him Henry started backing away. Which was when he noticed the water and oil slick ground he was walking over.

The evil grin was one of a child who has just discovered they can sear ants with a focusing lense. Still backpedaling and laying down covering shots as best he could Henry’s mind raced as to the best way to set this up. There One of the gun man popped up from behind more of the junk in the landing area. Turning Henry shrugged his shoulders up and tucked his head to prevent a lucky headshot as the man shot him in the back.

Whatever piece of ancient crap the man was using as a firearm had a low enough velocity that all it managed to do was smack Henry in between his shoulder blades. The nanosuit absorbed the shock and Henry pitched himself forward on purpose. It hurt like a bitch but it was necessary to set up the surprise he had in store. Landing on his forearms and absorbing the shock with his shoulders and elbows to preserve his wrists. Inadvertently triggering the grip increase in his right hand his fingers dug through the tar and cement surface of the ground like it was clay.

Focus Sending a ripple of essence through the sheen of water on the ground behind him, Henry froze it into a subtle sheet of black ice with a layer of oil on top of it. Scrambling frantically as though he were about to be killed and he was running in fear. Henry cackled madly as he made his escape on foot. Behind him he heard the first satisfying yelp of surprise followed by a sudden sick wet crack of someone’s head impacting the ground. More howls of frustration and pain followed as Henry tore like a bat out of hell after his new allies.

[End Here]

"We'll lose them in the city!"

He’d almost missed the monster sounding the retreat over the blaring gun fire. They were coming down hard on him, he’d slowly began to move his way back, firing his weapon nearly at point blank. They were close enough that the spray of blood was coating his armor. He took a slow step backwards, firing into the masses.

Now it seemed to just be a throng of people charging the group's position, either because they were swept up in the chaos, or because they genuinely didn’t want the team here. Another slow step, they were on him now so close that he could make out every detail of their face, he watched as the bullets tore them apart, their faces contort, eyes bulge it was always so gory. He let go of his rifle as the audible click signaled he was empty, he had no mags left, the sling kept the rifle close to him it now resting on his front. Drawing his sidearm he began to move quicker in the opposite of the horde of people. He unleashed a lethal volley of deadly magnetic rounds. One managed to jump him, he beat down on the power armor, and with a powerful swipe of his arm he launched the assailant into the crowd. He went back to firing his pistol, the fifty caliber rounds stopping anything they hit, and anyone behind them. “God they won’t stop coming.” he thought bitterly. This entire shit hole was a mess and if this was an indicator of how things were going to go, he might as well dip out the next chance he gets. A woman leapt at him, he dropped a round through her skull, painting her compatriots in a fine coat of red. He heard a distinct yelp, to his left an ice oil stick and a man had fallen onto it.

He swatted another person as they got to close, narrowly avoiding a homemade spear. He drew another plasma grenade, and dropped it at his own feet, he used the strength of the armor and launched himself away from the plasma, landing three meters away. A brilliant white light and then pools of glowing plasma were all that remained. He crawled to his feet, and began his retreat, looking back firing occasionally at the enemy. He’d use whatever cover he could find. Another bullet struck his armor this time in the stomach, he felt a slight pinch. His hud notified him that he had a minor wound. He fired back into the crowd as he continued to escape. He’d lost most of the party at this point, he crawled over the rubble and disappeared into the streets.

His left hand putting pressure onto his stomach, he slowed his breathing letting his heart catch up too him. His HUD finally came came up with a complete medical diagnostic, nothing close to life threatening. He continued to hold his stomach to prevent too much blood from spilling onto the ground it’d give them a trail to follow. He dipped between buildings and other rubble in the streets. He managed to spot what was left of his handlers, the creature was moving quickly. He fell in behind him letting his hand go from his wound. He maintained his pace at a quick trot, waiting for a minute before finally speaking “What the fuck happened back there?!” His disgust with the creatures earlier actions seeping into his voice. He managed to bite his tongue, realizing he might be dealing with amateurs. He tagged the creature as friendly, in his HUD.

[McHaggis]

.

[Kingfisher]

"Run through the clouds, friend! They are painkillers! They will dull the pain you are no doubt suffering from in your shoulder!"

Twenty or so years ago, Zhaarus the Red would've scoffed at the idea of using painkillers. He was a warrior of the brotherhood of Mahrl! A champion of the arena! But now? He was too old for this shit, and his shoulder hurt like a bitch.

"You have my thanks, comrade!" Zhaarus called out to the medic, giving him a curt nod of his head before he ran straight into the white mist which floated in the air infront of him. A warm, cool aroma washed over his scarred body, as a euphoric calming flooded through his form, numbing the pain in his shoulder. A slight tingling persisted in the wound, but the pain he felt now bore no comparison to that which had scorched his form mere moments ago.

“What the fuck happened back there?!”

A well-built figure with greying hair came rushing up behind him.

"I believe that's what they call an ambush," Zhaarus said dryly "I hear they're all the rage nowadays."

The path ahead was stricken with all sorts of rubble, and it took some expert climbing on the old man's part to scramble his way over it, whilst remaining out of the path of the flying bullets.

A few more minutes of running, and they appeared to have lost the bandits. Zhaarus stopped to catch his breath, leaning on the ruins of an old sky car for support.

The roar of gunfire had died down now, and a smattering of decrepit metal towers lay ahead of them. The bombed out ruins of old houses littered the side walks, and a disused train tunnel ran beneath them.

"There's no saying what we'll run into on our way back," Zharrus reasoned "Our best bet is to take the safer route."

He hopped down off of the road, landing with a thud on the train-track below.

"Don't worry; its been years since trains came through here!" He called back up to the group, as he went striding into the ensuing darkness of the cracked stone tunnel.

[rivaan]

Angel couldn't stop saying curses as she was retreating with the others from that ambush. She knew it! She bloody knew it, it always seemed to happen to her, every time she lands on a planet from the domain. Last time she landed with a cargo ship, it was just an hour stop so they can resupply and someone tried to blow them up. This time, the moment they set foot on this junkyard, the captain died, and now they were fleeting a mob of junkies... “YIKES!!” She shouted as a bullet flew right beside her ear, causing it to ring, and she herself to speed up her running even more.

At least the path forward offered good enough cover from the lacking shooters. Being quite light and nimble, she didn't have too great difficulty to make her way ahead, but it still was tiring to climb the rubble at that speed, especially when it was quite some time since she was took her essence. She had a doze, secured in sturdy box, inside her inner pocket of her tight jacket, so she was sure no one can steal it without her noticing. She was going to take it, the moment they reached whatever their hideout was. She doubted she will get any other chance to do so for a while.

“Believe me, trains are the last thing that's concerning me right now.” Angel stated as she hopped after their apparent new leader in this. She personally didn't care that he was from the brotherhood of Mahrl. The important thing was he knew his way and maybe was going to lead them through this hell of a bad start. Her hand didn't leave her pistol though, she knew well enough that even if this place wasn't used for ages, it was even more probably for certain elements of society to hang around here. When she was a child, there was this dare game to enter old tunnels. Many of those who weren't fast runners, rarely exited them afterwards. A good friend of her got... well fried nervous system when they drained all his essence.

“I'm more interested who set up that meeting place...” She said, looking around as she followed after Zhaarus.” The knew where we were going to meet and set up an ambush, which means someone sold us in advance. Any possibility that the place we are heading now is compromised as well?”

[my Lalia]

Brea Moirai

Red. That was all she could see, both from her Bix8 and her right eye. The Bix8 was outlining all enemies in red which bombarded her left eye, while her right watched the spray of tiny red droplets fill the air. She tried not to think about the fact she was probably breathing in the blood of those that she killed.

They kept coming like insects, popping out of places you swore no one could get through. She wondered how much longer her "team" could hold out against this onslaught, as there was no end to the enemy.

Hold the line!

Moirai's words rang through her head again only this time sounding angry. He always got angry when she fultered and broke a line. Often demanded where the little stubborn girl was that he saved. That always hurt when he asked that, but it made her try harder to keep from giving in. She could see the other holding, if barely. Most were close together, not so much her, though she did change her cover to be a little closer to the group. She knew that being alone was a sure way of getting killed.

She suddenly heard beasties order to fall back. She felt a slight relief by the order, as her pain had increased. Though she knew most died while retreating, any battle in history showed that over and over again.

She got up not waiting to see if anyone else was following. She began to run but was hindered by the pain which made her limp.

Mind..... off She thought before running full out. The pain was still there but she needed to move and she would deal with the pain later. Though if you saw you would of wondered how she could run, as where she was shot in the side was bleeding and the blood coated that side and over the armour of her leg. But she ran.

She caught up with some of the others while avoiding getting shot, though she nearly got hit a few times as bullets pinged off the ground around her. After keeping up she heard one of the men asked what happened, though it wasn't in a nice manner. Though she could understand his frustration, getting shot at always ruined people's days. Though actually getting shot,now that was a real pain in the ass. She could tell though that the large man didn't really like Beasty, she wasn't sure why though. But then most didn't trust anything or anyone that was alien. She did like Beasties response though, it made her give an audible chuckle.

Once the gun fire was all but silent Beasty stopped to catch his breath, which Brea really wished he hadn't done. As she stopped to only to lean on a skycar in pain, she had managed to keep her mind off the whole time while running. But now that they had stopped she gripped her side, pain plain on her face. Though not many could actually see her face as her hood and veil were still on.

She looked down at her wound, and was a little shocked by the amount of blood she had all over her leg and side.

How the hell am I still standing? She wondered before Beasty announced that they were taking the tunnels. She looked around at the others and wondered if the one guy with the bad attitude was going to follow, though she was pleased to see the other woman jumping down after Beasty.

Brea silently followed, that was until her feet hit the ground. Her left leg gave out as pain shot through her side. She cursed a few times as she laid there for a moment. Maybe jumping down was a bad idea, but she wasn't about to ask any of the guys to lower her down. Though she wished she had, but was done was done. She slowly got up and followed Beasty and Pixie down the dark tunnels.

”They knew where we were going to meet and set up an ambush, which means someone sold us in advance. Any possibility that the place we are heading now is compromised as well?”

"Well aren't you full of sunshine and roses..... you have a point there though Pixie." She said not caring if the girl didn't like the nickname that she gave her.

Brea had to slow down a bit as the jump down and the running before had taken it's toll on her. She suddenly wondered where the damn Doc was.