Oliver stared at the device he was given. He was still unsure if he was the right choice for the job. Watching as the others morphed into their respective colors made Oliver excited. When he heard the words come out of Tommy's mouth it made him feel a little more secure. He strapped the device around his wrist and began his morphing process.
Holding his wrist out in front of him he said, "Strike Force, Flash Forward!" A form of pixels and light appeared in front of him emitting from the green stone. Oliver curiously reached out to it, and when he touched it the light and pixels started enveloping around his body shining brightly. When the light finally dimmed Oliver could be seen standing there covered from top to bottom in a powerful suit.
He could feel the strength of the suit and the light it produced cleared his mind of any doubt he had earlier. He looked up to his fellow rangers and said, "This is-is-absolutely awesome. I feel so much stronger." He turned back to John and Samara when he remembered about Michael, "Don't worry about Micheal. Will make sure he and the everyone else is safe."
The githkin did not respond to Mable's words, nor react in any way. In fact, once she had handed back the book it simply turned round and left. Gajoon appeared to be quite relieved as he wiped away some... Wait, could Cephapodians sweat? Well regardless, he made the motion of wiping sweat from his brow and looked all the happier for it. Since Mable was concerned with her own thoughts, and the githkin was either too stupid or too impolite, the pop star's manager went through the trouble of closing a simple wooden door. Really, what was the world coming to?
"Miss Love, are you alright?" he asked, approaching Mable. "You're looking awfully flushed."
He then gasped, covering his mouth with four tentacle-hands as his eyes opened wide. "Please tell me you're not having doubts about the concert? You're still in top condition, right? OH GOD WHAT DID THAT GITHKIN WANT?! WE'RE RUINED, I JUST KNOW IT!"
Jackson went back to work without a care in the world, and why should he be bothered by anything? Things were going so splendid, weren't they? The drill was handling like a charm, too. Work continued just like that for another four hours. In that time Jackson only had to stop drilling once when he ran into a gas pocket, so they had to get it cleaned up to protect the workers. A single spark from those axes, or his drill, and it could have led to a pretty massive explosion. And that's where Jackson found himself now, standing back behind some specialty workers that were using some kind of Galatec designed machines to siphon away the natural gas pocket.
Jackson...
...What?
Jackson...
Something... Something was... Talking to him? It sounded like a voice, a soft and hushed whisper. Female. For some reason it reminded Jackson of buttermilk icing on cake. But where was it coming from? Nearby the twin sisters, the spotters, stood having their own conversation. Unlike Jackson, they didn't get to take a short break while the cleanup crew worked. They had to keep on coming the walls with small instruments and sensors, looking for potential valuables. Standing right behind them was the same githkin that had been watching over Jackson's crew today, looking... Bored? Could githkin look bored? It was so hard to tell with those mouthless faces.
As soon as her orders were given, everyone practically jumped to follow them. The assistants plugged away at their computers to send out the order for the missing slaves' families to be rounded up. Drax didn't waste any time in immediately leaving to the supervisors' dormitories, damaging the door in the process. Foreman Jo'ones gave her a nod and saluted with his brand new arms, then took off without a word. Githkin XJ-47 likewise left without any sort of acknowledgement nor response. It was the way of his kind, after all, to obey without question and without hesitation.
"Ma'am, the order is complete," said the female assistant.
"Cameras show a group of rebels are nearing this office. Shall I activate the security measures?" inquired the male. It may have seemed a silly question, but the facility policy did indicate that the office security was only to be activated if approved by the foreman or a representative with equal authority, and Galatec was nothing if not a stickler for the fine print.
The android charged toward his target without hesitation, and quickly found himself in the middle of a large battle between two githkin and seven rebels. The githkin, sensing their general's approach, dove out of the way. The rebels had an altogether different response.
"It's Adelram Drax!" shouted one of them, holding up a pickaxe as his primary weapon. "Destroy him!"
The rebels all assaulted Drax. The leader attacked with his pickaxe, while another leapt at him with a baseball bat. Two more shot at the robot with old shotguns, while another two fired small pistols. The seventh was armed with a laser blaster but never got the opportunity to shoot, as Drax simply barreled through the entire group, completely unharmed, and disappeared around the corner. Drax's CPU computed a 92.3% chance that any survivors would be near instantly rounded up and/or executed by the two githkin they had previously engaged.
A minute after this altercation and Drax found himself at the dormitories just outside of Shplorn's room. She stood in the doorway while the three githkin there, two regulars and one elite, held their heads in confusion. They were being given contradicting orders and while normally the orders of Regional Manager Ruthalia would take precedence, Ruth had severed the connection while Shplorn kept trying. Drax had seen this before, but it was irrelevant to his mission.
As soon as Drax was in her sight, Shplorn's eyes opened wide. She threw her arms up into the air in a complete surrender, allowing Drax's energy wave to easily scoop her up. At the same time he was able to grab the three githkin, and could carry all four in his massive arms without too much difficulty. However as soon as he held the four, his Situation Awareness Sensor picked up a presence behind him. One of Division Alpha, a man about thirty years old wearing some impressive (for scavenged) metal battle armor and holding a plasma blaster in his hand. He had the look of a warrior about him, a man that enjoyed the fighting.
"Drop Shplorn, rust bucket, or you'll need a whole lot more than a paint job when I'm through with you!"
It was an interesting and poetic thought, if the githkin died with smiles just like the slaves they worked to death. Of course without context it made absolutely no sense seeing as the species had no mouths, but that's neither here nor there. Michael risked his life, everything, to break cover in the firefight long enough to shoot at a githkin with his pistol. His index finger squeezed that trigger, which in turn set the mechanisms of this ancient machine in motion to ignite the powder inside a small metal tube. The resulting bang was a microcosm of the situation Michael had found himself in. He was just a small metal tube inside a larger, more complex machine, and now he was being hurled toward a danger he understood only too well.
The bullet left the barrel of the gun and struck true, hitting the githkin square in the chest. The creature recoiling about a quarter of a foot, but it let out no grunt or cry of pain, nor did its hand reach to the wound by instinct. Instead it focused entirely on the source of the shot, its eyes meeting Michael's. His eyes were more concerned with that bullet wound, or lack thereof. The bullet had hit it, certainly, but flattened uselessly against the creature's hardened skin, leaving behind only a small bruise.
Uh oh.
One by one, each of the youths transformed using the morphers they had been provided. The rush, the force, the power, it was so... Was there even a word for this kind of experience? Whatever it was, it felt fantastic! With each transformation they had not only an influx of power, but an influx of knowledge. It was a little bit disorienting at first, but something they could quickly recover from. Each one instantly knew the capabilities they had as a ranger, from their weapons, to their enhanced abilities, to their unique ability granted by the suit. Oh happy day.
"I tinkered with these morphers' designs a little bit and added my own touch. When you came into contact with the Morphin Grid, it should have downloaded your suit's entire skill set directly into your minds. Years worth of training in a single data stream, hahaha." John smiled, making eye contact with each one of the four that stood before him, then gave his final words before seeing them off. "Time to be a hero and save your red ranger. Power Rangers Strike Force, move out!"
Once the four got going into the door Samara had opened up for them, they could feel even more of the power granted by their suits. The tunnels ahead held challenges, though. It was time to see how they'd handle it.
Once the rangers departed, John shook all over, his composure suddenly vanishing. Samara knew that he put on a brave and confident face in even the worst of times, but he still had his own doubts. Right now fear was showing all over his face.
"Right, we need to get more power to the RDS. These generators are not going to cut it. The charge time is too long for large teleportations like that." He quickly paced around, thinking and thinking. With a mind like his, thousands of thoughts would race through and be contemplated, but he didn't seem to like any of them. After several moments, he came to a stop.
"I have an idea if the generators don't recharge in time... But I don't like it and I doubt you will either."
Adelram shifted the Githkin in his arms and dropped them feet first onto the ground. With his now free hand he pointed at the metal-clad warrior.
"Kill that rebel." He spoke simply and plainly, making himself easily understood to the less than stellar intelligence of his subordinates. With Shplorn still in his left arm, he made his pointed hand into one of a flat palm. The plasma blaster in the warrior's hand was one of considerably higher caliber than the rest of the rebel forces' small arms. As such, Adelram decided it would be worth the time to place a basic energy shield behind him to cover his retreat. He had no interest in fighting the rebel warrior, even if Adelram did calculate the warrior's higher chance to be a high-ranking soldier in the rebel outfit.
But, it was not his mission. The warrior was willing to fight to rescue Shplorn, which means that Shlporn was of ever more importance to Drax.
He held his hostage in one hand, turned quickly around and extended his arm far behind him, as if he were doing a highly impractical stiff-arm. Another pulse, and an energy shield floated behind him. He began to run once again, and if he ran into any more enemy insurgents he would attempt to dodge around them. He would have to take a brief moment once he got back to Ruthalia to recharge his energy so it was full capacity in the coming battle.
In face of the Githkin, Michael had knowingly smiled at the futility of it all.
The bullet had done nothing; a lot less than he had first thought it would but it had only proven his gut feeling. The Githkin were too monstrous to combat, Galatect was too godly to even think of rebelling against. And even still, with all this fear, despair, and certain death; Michael had managed a smile.
Soon though it died. The war around him wouldn't allow him a moment's peace and now, neither would his opposition. He scowled at the demon-faced creature, eyeing the only mark he had inflicted on the beast with contempt. "Bring it," he muttered ever-so-quietly; summoning his rage from the pit of his guilt.
"Come on!" he screamed next, demanding the creature to charge with a ripping gesture towards himself. "Come onnnnn!" He moved backwards as he did, keeping the gun at his side and the pickaxe comfortably in grasp.
If I meet you now, Courtney... If you're looking... than you'll know I did everything in my power to pay you back for failing you. I won't die without taking at least one of them with me. I'll look him in the eyes when I do... carve a smile on its face.
Michael glanced his surroundings for something that could help him; his mind was too occupied to find anything worthy. He found it consumed in this war. Filled with adrenaline. Everything came just a tad slower but none of it seemed to make any real sense to him. That was until looked the Githkin in its pitch-black eyes again.
His eyes... I'll aim for his bloody eyes! I gotta stay alive long enough for an opening. Its crazy to even think of fighting this monster but I-I don't have much choice.
Her fingers drummed lightly on the desk top as her eyes continued to watch the monitors that displayed the various states of unrest in the key areas. She did not want to miss a moment or an opportunity if it could be helped so when General Drax bust through the door causing some substantial damage, she merely sighed and shook her head. That robot was going to be the cause of some serious headaches further down the line.
Pleased that her orders were being carried out promptly and efficiently, Ruth began to relax some and began to drum out a beat; one one, two two, three four and five. No one should be this relaxed in such a situation, but Ruthalia was. The only thing that could make this moment more relaxing were if she had a line of slap-ees lining up and awaiting to feel the graceful presence of her hand on their skin at full force speeds. One could dream.
She was soon brought out of her daydream by the voice of the fearful assistant. “Fabulous. For carrying out your work so efficiently, you will not be the next person that I slap today! Good for you.” She gave a dazzling, albeit crazy, smile before she continued her drumming beat. Alas, it was short lived as the more resentful of the two assistants quipped in soon after she had begun. “But of course! This is precisely why these measures are in place. But thank you for sticking to the regulations. You have also been awarded slap-munity for a short time. Congratulations! You’ve earned it.” The fact that the second assistant had stuck so stringently to the guidelines placed him in a slightly less dark light than Ruth previously put him. She decided to call the fearful one Glen and the resentful one Coco. Team Glen Coco.
"Gajoon." Mable looked her manager in the face, her flushed complexion back to normal. "I'm fine, everything is fine. That was just a fan." Mable flashed a toothy grin and gave him a thumbs up. "How about instead of inking your pants you help me get this show started? The crowd has been waiting long enough haven't they?" She said. In truth she wanted to get the concert over with as soon as possible, as long as she was here she was basically in a cage. Something was about to happen in this city for once, and she was not going to miss it. "Things are already ready, right? come on.~"
The morphing sequences had been completed, leaving Samara a little more relieved than before. It was a bad time to back away now, but their hesitation was almost nonexistent. They were as ready as they were going to be. Samara offered a brief nod of appreciation to Clementine as thanks for her willingness to give Michael the message. Finally, the four had raced to the opened tunnel to come to Michael’s aid, leaving John and herself alone. As she turned to him now, his shaking did not come as a surprise. In fact, it was mutual. Samara was just as nervous as he was, but was just barely managing to keep it together better than her counterpart.
“Well we knew power might be an issue, but we couldn’t have guessed that we’d need to use it again so soon. All our chips were on them seeing the light in our struggle.” Samara confessed. She had factored in, with confidence, that getting at least five people there would be something their system was easily capable of handling. The problem was that they did not factor the possibility of a rebel attack, and how fast they’d need to get this new team into an important position as soon as possible. It was beginning to be a bad day.
As John had chosen to pace in thought, Samara turned on her heel and hustled back to her computer. Her mind raced with what limited ideas she could consider at a time like this. Drawing power from within the sensors might give them a boost, but the ability to traverse through the layers of rock with its radar was too valuable. With that system they could track the group even without the cameras aid, and they needed to know where the team would be at all times. Not to mention that was the direct means of locking them on for transportation. No good in removing the sensors to transport what they couldn’t easily target without them. Bad idea. It was really, really beginning to be a bad day.
She turned around once John mentioned a plan in mind, one that he did not enjoy and one that he guessed she wouldn’t either. Samara had an imagination, and in that imagination were horrible things John could suggest they do. Without dwelling on the possibilities, she'd steel herself for what was going to be true, and necessary to help the others. “I didn’t like the way Jonah spoke to us. I didn’t like how we couldn’t get a stronger power source, or a faster processing unit for the RDS. I don’t like a lot of things John, but we’ve done what we could. There’s no way to account for every possibility, or every threat.” she admitted, crossing her arms. “So if we put them in the fire on our behalf, we need to be prepared to do whatever we can to help them, even if that means joining them in the fire.”
Samara glanced to the open tunnel, wanting to take a guess before John came out with it. “What, we get some Oranium and use it as a power source while Galatec’s hands are full? Or is our job not nearly that easy?”
Clementine felt a rush of information flow through her mind, showing her what she could be capable of in the power suit. Of particular note was her ability to produce a blinding flash, as well as a spear made of light. However, lacking confidence, she reached instead for the firearm that was holstered at her belt, a defensive weapon that was short and easy to handle. She felt it in her palms, and despite having never held or fired a gun in her life, its easy-to-wield heft reassured her. She lowered her arms with both hands holding the gun, pointed at the ground and angled away from herself slightly in a pseudo-safe, pseudo-ready position. She looked to Jonah to lead the way.
Location: Dumas Mines Interacting With: The Twins, Strange Voice In His Head @ProPro
Jackson looked around, confused. What was this voice talking to him? He eyed the Githkins currently working to fix the gas leak, but it was impossible to tell with those mouthless faces. Shaking his head, he tried to reassure himself that it was all fine - he was working for Galatec, life was great! With a newly recovered perkiness, he hopped off the drill, walking over to the twins again. “Hey, need any help?”
The twins glanced over to Jackson as he spoke, though Shawnee lingered just a bit longer while Sarah immediately returned to her work. “I appreciate it, but I think we've got this handled,” Shawnee said in a hoarse voice. The two had been communicating to one another all day and had to shout over the engines of Jackson’s driller. It was only natural they'd be a little hoarse.
Jackson… Hear me… There was that voice again.
Jackson did feel a pang of guilt that he was the one that had made the girls go hoarse - or, at least, the machinery he was handing - but smiled at them nonetheless. “Alright. Have fun!” His eye twitched and his voice quivered slightly as his strain to ignore the voice continued, but managed to walk back to the drill without going insane. ‘Go away, you’re not real!’ he thought, frustrated. He leaned against the machinery he’d been appointed to, grabbing his water bottle and taking a large gulp of it, clutching at the plastic with shaking hands.
The cleanup crew finished just as soon as Jackson had taken a big swig of his water. The head of the crew, a large and imposing black man, turned to face Jackson and spoke in a deep baritone. “We’re all finished here, son. Glad you didn't blow yourself to kingdom come. This was a close one. One big gas pocket, I tell you what. We’ll put this to good use heating houses.”
The man pat his suction machine as he spoke, some large device that resembled a cross between a vacuum cleaner and a hadron collider. That's when the supervising Githkin spoke up. ”Work!”
“Oh, no dallying. Later kid.” And thus the cleanup crew took off.
The boy had been quite intrigued as the man spoke, and bid him farewell once the Githkin were nice enough to remind them of what they were doing. He climbed back onto the drill, getting back to work and thinking happy thoughts, hoping he’d keep that voice at bay. No, he couldn’t even think about it. He was working with Galatec and got to use the drill! Yes, it was great. No voices, no badness, just a great day. His mind quickly thought back to how hoarse Shawnee’s voice was, and his brow furrowed, but he knew that he had to keep working. After all, who could not like working for such great people like Galatec?
The two regular githkin immediately moved to attack the rebel insurgent just as Drax ordered, while the elite stood back and observed, being of a more intelligent mold than its brothers. They charged forward with reckless abandon, fists upright and clenched, ready to punch through the man's body and out the other end. Only that's not what had happened. The man cracked off two shots, one for each. Plasma shot through the air and collided with the two githkin right in their faces, forcing them to collapse onto the ground and melt into the raw genetic ooze which created them. Clearly this man was a crack-shot, and not to be underestimated.
"Wrong choice, rusty." He fired off another shot, this one at Drax, but the plasma bolt had been intercepted by something else. The elite githkin released some kind of metal shield and used it to block for Drax. The plasma ate through and destroyed the shield, but it never even had the chance to come into contact with Drax's own defenses. The elites were truly a fantastic asset.
As Drax began to get moving again, KT took a running jump through the air and engaged the rebel. At that point Drax no longer had them on his sensors, but he could make out the man screaming, "We'll save you, commander!"
Rounding another corner, Drax found himself face to face with ten members of Division Alpha. These ones would not be to easily avoided it would seem, as they had setup a road block. A semi-translucent red energy field blocked Drax's path. Two of the rebels stood behind the field, operating a Galatec Energy Wall Projector V.3.1 (likely stolen in this attack), while the other eight stood in front of the field, each one brandishing a different weapon. They all stared down the robotic general with pure hatred, ready to engage.
"Roger that, ma'am," responded the newly Christianed Coco as his fingers tapped away at the keyboards around his station. Ruth could see the rebels he was referring to on the cameras, coming up Hallway 1B and rounding the corner. My my, they were getting dangerously close to the office, weren't they? Eight of them were only about 50 feet from the door when Coco initiated the security measures, and they found their mad dash suddenly, and painfully, halted.
A red energy wall projected in front of the group, and the first two collided directly with the new obstacle. They reeled back in pain, both from the sudden bludgeoning stop and from the searing heat that came from a hard laser wall. Only a mother could love those faces, once they were finished scarring. The rest were able to skid to a stop before they hit the wall as well, but nobody could escape the trap as a second wall appeared behind them. They were locked in.
"The terrorists have been contained, Miss Ruth," said Glen, a hint of fear in her voice. "How should we, uh, proceed?"
There were many options, of course. One command would compress the laser walls together. Another would electrify the floor, in both lethal and non-lethal settings. The automated turrets could put more holes in them than Swiss cheese. Then of course, there was always the option of approaching them in person from the other side of the cage. Ruth possessed a piece of technology that would allow her to pass through the energy walls unhindered, if she were so inclined. Ah, choices.
The githkin let out a roar of fury and charged forward, knocking the wagon aside with only a token amount of effort. On its hands were clawed gloves, a horrible weapon to be attacked with. Michael knew that something that wicked, combined with these creature's sheer strength and brutality, would mean one hit is all they'd need to end his life for good. Once the wagon was out of the way, it jumped straight for him, eyes narrowed in anger, right hand outstretched and ready to claw him.
Michael's surroundings were fairly bare. The wagon was knocked aside, but it did spill some of its contents in the process. Two large rocks, about the size of a basketball each, and two blasting sticks fell within reach. The area was open, allowing for a lot of room to maneuver. The fighting continued all around him, the nearest skirmish about 200 feet ahead of him.
The fighting they had seen on the view screen was some distance away from the room in which the rangers had met Samara and John. Those who had been around with some rudimentary knowledge of the facility might have even recognized that the area they were leaving was supposed to have been demolished and closed off months ago. Because of this, they had to run for nearly five minutes before they made any real progress in getting closer to their goal, but eventually they did indeed see something that let them know they were getting closer.
At a four way cross point in the tunnels, about thirty feet ahead of them, the rangers could make out three githkin engaged in battle with six rebels, though that number was quickly dropping. One rebel in the back was using an automatic rifle, and he seemed to be the only one capable of fending off the creatures with any success. Meanwhile the others were getting knocked aside, smashed, and beaten. Right as the fighting came into view, the rangers were treated to the lovely sight of a githkin using a rebel as a human shield against rifle fire. Now there was only three.
"Much as I would like to get some oranium, I'm afraid we don't have any equipment capable of harnessing and converting their power into a useable format for the RDS," John commented, turning toward his personal desk. He began riffling through it, until he finally pulled out a roll of paper and approached Samara once more.
"If they're going to put their lives at risk, I will have to do the same. I think it has to do with that concept of 'honor' your species has?" He unrolled the paper before Samara, revealing the contents to her. It was a full biological diagnostic of an alien species called Voltez, known for producing a large amount of bio-electricity. "I can hook myself to the generator to power it, and... Hope I don't fry myself in the process. I know, it's a stupid plan but it's all we've got."
Vroooom vroooooooom the drill continued to roar, cracking and tearing apart rock and stone. The entire machine vibrated almost violently as Jackson continued to dig through the rock. After another few minutes of drilling though, he could hear the voice of the twins, Sarah and Shawnee, struggling to yell over his machine.
"-ound... -thing big!" Sounds like they had made a pretty good discovery. The githkin ordered Jackson to shut down the drill so they could hear the girls. Thankfully he was able to listen to the great news as well! "We're detecting huge energy readings! The wavelengths look like oranium, but just a little different. I'm not sure what that is, but it's big!"
The githkin nodded, then gestured for Jackson to get off the driller. Once he had done so, the githkin would give him, the girls, and everyone else a pickaxe, then pointed at a thin vein of ore the girls had been so excited about. "Dig," it ordered.
And so they did. Woah momma, this seemed like the motherload of all oranium! Practically every rock Jackson knocked out of the wall was flush with ore. There was more ore than stone coming out! Maybe they'd get a bonus from this discovery, who knows?
Keep digging, Jackson. You're almost there.
After thirty minutes of intensive digging, something caught Jackson's eye. Something small was shining with a little glint, hidden amongst the dark stone and rich oranium ore. It looked like some kind of gemstone, or crystal, yellow in color but shining with a bright and illuminating light that shifted across the gem's surface.
"Stop!" Sarah ordered, moving in closer to Jackson's discovery. She held out the scanning device she had been using and waved it in front of the yellow gem. The energy readings were off the chart!
"Move," the githkin commanded, stepping in. It bent down on its knees and looked more closely at the little crystal, tilting its head quizzically. After a moment it reached out with two fingers and grabbed hold of the small artifact. This would, as it turned out, be the last act of the creature's life. Energy rushed through the githkin's body, then light, pure sunlight, blasted forth from all its pores. The creature exploded with a shower of sparks into a pile of genetic goop that splattered the wall opposite of the gem.
"What the... What just happened?!" Shawnee cried out, concerned and scared. The other miners were equally confused and frightened of this new development.
"Inking my pants?" Gajoon asked incredulously with a raised eyebrow. "Fine, fine. You're on in ten anyway. Final preparations are nearly done. Let's just make this a night to remember, alright?" And a night to remember it was. Once Mable hit that stage she was welcomed by more fans than she'd ever had in any concert in her entire career. There had to be thousands of people cheering once those lights kicked on and her presence was illuminated. Then the music began and that cheering became a raving outcry of insane devotion. With every move, every gesture, every note she sang Mable incited screaming and cheering. It was enough to warm the heart... If the music wasn't totally bogus.
Fifty minutes passed and her first set was complete. There was a brief 2 minute break while the stage hands rearranged the props and equipment for her second set, which included setting up some holographic projectors and fireworks for the big finale. The big finale that had been forced on her only a few hours ago. This brief intermission was much like any other. She got a second to catch her breath, get some water, get accosted by a rabid fan wanting some of her hair, and change her outfit. In no time at all she was back on stage and singing for thousands of people.
Her second set was about the same length, but it was harder than the first set. Partly due to having already been performing under high powered hot lights for so long, and partly because the songs were more complex. That said, she nailed it just like she always did. Then the big climax. The beat kept moving faster and faster, the lyrics sped up and up. Holographic projections beamed out across the stage, acting as a picture representation of everything she sang about. Finally on the final upbeat fireworks launched into the atmosphere, exploding into the shape of a heart, accompanied by her signature phrase. Peace and Love.
The very second her big finale ended, the stage went dark and curtains began to close. That was unusual. Wasn't she getting a moment to take a bow and address the audience? That's when two figures in dark robes rushed at her from just off stage. Even though it was dark, Mable could clearly make out that each one was brandishing a knife, and the way they charged didn't look all too friendly...
The enemy was desperate to resecure their VIP, and obviously Drax's objective was in direct conflict with theirs.
And so was Adelram's Drax's inner pre-fight pep talk: Your objective is on conflict with theirs, thus the enemy must be neutralized. Swinging his backward extending, shield projecting hand around, he prepared for an energy blast. He pumped a few more pulses of energy into the shield, which was made obvious by the flashes of light and the increasing opacity of the bright yellow wall. Shlporn still in his hand, Adelram clenched his fist, gave the mental word, and the shield exploded outwards towards the rebel's shield wall.
Streaks of what looked like golden dust wizzed randomly though the air, and yellow "balloons" pushed themselves forward, popping in the sky or on the ground. But the majority of the blast was a projectile, shaped like a comet with a long tail that began in his clenched fingers. This dazzling sight lasted only a second, the streaks fizzled away and the balloons vanished, all that was left was the deadly bomb.
It would collide with the energy shield, damaging if not temporarily downing it. Either outcome would result in Drax unsheathing his handcannon and firing either at the shield or the rebels themselves. Five shots, before Drax twirled it around his fingers (speeding along the cooling process), and after a few seconds another shot or two would be weapon for firing again, which Drax would gladly fire at his enemies.
The android made no attempts to shield Shlporn from enemy fire, if anything he made it so the Accounting Director was more vulnerable, hoping to deter any wild shots at Drax. It may have been described as a risk, but Drax calculated the rebels worked off of emotion, they had a passion for their cause and wanted to "save" their own people rather than kill them. He attempted to take advantage of their weakness.
As Mable's final act in her concert concluded, she let out a sigh of relief. For once she actually had difficulty getting through a performance. While she danced and sung, her mind recalling the steps, timing, and lyrics, she was distracted by the message she had received from the silent githkin. She'd always had trouble focusing on something when she so badly wanted something else. That's why it took her a moment to realize that something was wrong. The curtains had begun to close, and the lights had been shut off. Such an instant change of tone was not befitting of a pop concert. Mable quickly looked around to gauge her surroundings, and saw two cloaked figures heading towards her holding knives. Her eyes widened, and she prepared to defend herself. She figured she could easily take them down, for all they knew she was just a weak popstar.
But perhaps she could keep up that facade a little longer...
"No, get away!" Mable screamed as loud as a trained singer could, and began to run away from her attackers. She led them towards the curtains, and turned to face them. As they got within striking distance she grabbed the curtain behind her and yanked it down, jumping backwards at the same time. The stage was in clear view of the crowd now, and here Mable was, on her behind crying as two people bore down on her with weapons.
"Someone help, they're going to kill me!" Mable cried out, flashing the cloaked individuals a grin as she backed into the crowd of faithful, and for once thankfully ravenous fans.
It was a surreal experience for Tommy to walk through the tunnels, on the way to fight a bunch of githkin. He'd never held a gun in his life, and now he was reading training manuals on how to use this extremely powerful battle suit to deal massive damage. Apparently his suit was equipped with a special shield, different from the rest. It would be just like throwing a Frisbee, Tommy would get it in no time!... Except that he had never thrown a Frisbee either.
Tommy shook his head as he saw the githkin using the rebel as a human shield. No no, that simply would not do. He took a stance and expanded his shield, a large round thing that was large enough to cover almost his entire body and had a little slit for his gun in it. He almost tripped as he was surprised by just how large the thing was. Oh well, it was throw time!
"Yo, githkin assholes! Get ready to be... ugh, violently and unceremoniously incapacitated!" he said, as he threw his shield, aiming towards the neck of the githkin using the rebel as a shield.
“Wishful thinking is wishful, John.” Samara replied, smiling briefly. He was right; there was no investment made in converting that ore into anything useful, not yet anyway, and with time not on their side they needed realistic ideas to aid the team. Lucky for her, John seemed to already have a plan.
Returning to his desk and searching through its contents, he had returned to her with a roll of paper that immediately captured her attention. If it wasn’t her with the brilliant ideas, it was always John to save the day in her stead.
Watching as he unfurled it, Samara narrowed her eyes at what appeared to be a biological blueprint of an alien species—Voltez. John would only keep something like this for one reason. Samara put his plan together just before she finished explaining it to her.
“Stupid plan? No, brilliant given our lack of options right now,” Samara gave the man credit. His ability was proving to be more useful than she originally thought. But despite its advantages, there was a flaw to the plan that John knew as well as she did. Her face softened with worry. “I know what kind of stress it’ll put on you. Our burned out power source could barely get four-fifths of our team here. Are you sure you have nothing else up your sleeve? We’re talking you powering something even a generator couldn’t handle on its own.”
John was dedicated to the Strike Force, as was she, but Samara couldn’t help but be worried about the kind of drain it would put on his body. She wasn’t entirely familiar with the biological details of the Voltez, so maybe John knew that their typical biostructure could handle the amount of juice necessary. She hoped that was the case, for his sake.
As Clementine ran with the other Strike Force members, she noticed how easy it was with the power suit on to move at a speed that normally would have winded her in less than a minute.
When they arrived at the junction, Clementine flet her blood run cold. She had seen Githkin dispatching rioters on the news before, but they had only ever showed a bare minimum of Githkin tactics, giving the impression that the Githkin were controlled, surgical, almost pacifist in their tendencies. To suddenly be on the receiving end of Githkin tactics, tactics that were revealed to be far more brutal than she had ever believed, had her quaking slightly.
Yet Tommy showed tremendous courage, flinging his shield at one of the Githkin. This act inspired Clementine somewhat, but instead of understanding the tactic of focusing fire on single targets, Clementine didn't wish to accidentally shoot the rebel that the Githkin was holding (even though that rebel was probably already dead), and aimed at another of the Githkin with her pistol. Clementine mentally reminded herself that Githkin were merely constructs, nothing more than nanomachine creations without minds, without lives, despite how organically realistic they looked. Clementine fired two shots in quick succession, the shots leaving the muzzle of her pistol comfortably; the gun was designed to mitigate recoil and preserve her aim for subsequent shots.
Things felt accelerated now. Michael thought that it would seem different but something about the Githkin actually charging him had hot-wired his mind. He processed things clearer but time had not slowed like it seemingly had before. With his mind dead-set on taking out the demonic thing he caught sight of the explosives and fell into a deep focus he had only experienced a few times in his life. It made things... easier, he always thought to himself. Aiming the pistol towards the blast sticks near the wagon, Michael shot off three bullets towards it.
When fighting devils... everything is a risk, He told himself harshly, already making plans for his next move.
Information was a plus, mental tampering was a minus but god if anything he had to say was going to get through to his current company. He wasn't surprised that no one questioned the very high chance that there new benefactor may of just altered their memories, not like he'd be able to tell which meant it was something to throw to the back of his mind and onto the large list he was compiling called “Things To Check Later”.
In what actually mattered concerning the current scenario, Jonah made use of his vision to peer into the darkness before them. He could already see the upcoming enemies and began to plan accordingly. Three Githkin, one using the basic tactic of human shield (not his preferred method of defense since they always struggled and weighed him down) and eliminating their rebel enemies in quick fashion. Switching to X-Ray had him scanning the remaining rebels, only three were still alive and the human shield was not one of the few to go un-sacrificed.
Three targets, I’ll strike them down before they can see me. Activating stealth mode.
With a thought he flashed a different color, blending into the dark shadows of the cave as he hit a somersault across the dirt and disappeared behind a set of stones. As he planned for a silent attack, the others took the chance at a direct assault.
A hostage situation and these two decide to charge in without a plan, perfect...
