SlashInfinite

Modern Battlefield- No place for no hero

@AlShayatin Haven't got a premade one, no. But I can dish something up fairly quickly.

Modern Battlefield- No place for no hero

I might be interested in this too! :)

Into the Abyss

Year 2556.
Earth, UNF International Airfield, France.

Loud engines roared across the skies, as several ships flew around the busy airfield. Marines and crewmembers ran about their business, be it prepping ships or running errands. White and blue uniforms swarmed the airfield in neat formations and organised patterns. The airstrip was still kept repaired, even though it had grown quite obsolete in modern times. It was a symbol by now, of the old times, before interplanetary ships and vertical launches. Several large UNF ships were stationed in the base, which had been expanded several times over the years. It was the size of a small city by now, with hangars, offices, barracks and apartments. It wasn’t solely military personnel either, but plenty of civil workers worked there as well. It was late afternoon by now, and the sun had begun setting. Even so, the day was far from over for the most of them. That included Mireille Lemaitre, who was on her way to the Intrépide, a multi crew ship. 60 meters in length, and 13 meters in height, the French-produced assault and transport ship was sturdy and trusted. The Nostradamus Class-A had been used for both fighting and transporting, serving as a heavier ship than a standard one-man fighter. The crew aboard it, consisting of seven, was quite the international gathering, from all across the world. Flight Lieutenant Mireille served as the primary pilot, under Captain Lewis, a Canadian-born officer.

The crew had gathered the last things, settling in. They were set for Beijing this evening, having been assigned to the UNF Bismarck in the last minute. Mireille had been told little, and her natural born curiosity was getting the better of her. She dumped her belongings on the humble bed, allowing a sigh to escape her. The day had been so awfully long and busy, especially with the call for mobilising the crew on such short notice. She peered at herself through the mirror, frowning slightly at the sight she saw. The woman before her looked dreary and stressed, her neat braid being the only thing that made her look presentable, at least in her own opinion. Mireille flipped a card around between her fingers, giving it a brief look every now and then. The letters on the card glowed a passive blue. The official identification each UNF employee was given at the employment. Each bit of the information was due to change and would do so automatically, quite nifty, the thing. Her eyes glanced at the card.

Lemaitre, Mireille
Female, 27
Blood type, AB
Flight Lieutenant, UNF Intrépide, Nostradamus Class-A Military Ship
United Nations Force
French Department

“Mireille! Packed your things?” A familiar voice spoke up as the footsteps approached. The girl looked up, offering a tired smile towards Alexander Neumann, one of the gunners aboard the Intrépide. He was slightly older than her, somewhere around the mid-thirties, far as she recalled. Alexander was a German-born marine, having been assigned to the Intrépide for just as many years as Mireille by now. He always carried a formal but welcoming smile, and today was no different.
“Yes, yes.” Mireille started, her English having a clear French accent. “It’s been a long day, don’t you think? You’ve heard anything from the captain? What we’re doing in Beijing?” She asked, eager as ever.
Alexander nodded, rubbing his newly trimmed chin. “I’ve heard nothing. Lewis is yet to return from the meeting. I assume he’ll brief us as we fly.” Alexander rolled a shoulder, as the two headed towards the cockpit. The entire crew was gathered, exchanging greetings and whatnot. They had been off for a week, as they were stationed in France.
Lewis returned not long after, ordering an assembly within the crew quarters. He was well around his forties, and had been in the navy for more than twenty years. His face was stoic as ever, as he addressed the crew, fancy clipboard in hand. He did love that clipboard of his.

“Very well. I’m glad you all were able to prepare so quickly. As you know, we’re to fly to Beijing tonight. Upon arrival we’ll certainly be briefed even more. Nonetheless, we’ve been assigned as a support to the UNF Bismarck, a corvette to escort the civilian exploration vessel, The Avalon.” Lewis wet his lips, looking up from the clipboard briefly. The crew was listening, each of them as curious as Mireille was each day. The captain continued. “We’re to embark on a mission to the outer reaches of the Milky Way.” They were silent; though it was clear they all had questions of the nature of the mission. Lewis squinted his eyes at them, smiling slightly.
“We’ll know more in Beijing. For now, welcome to Operation Illumination.”

“UNF Intrépide, you’re cleared for launch.” The radio buzzed through the speakers in the cockpit. Merielle, Captain Lewis and the secondary Pilot William Miles sat ready, plotting coordinates and flight route. The Intrépide’s engines roared loudly, as the ship fired up. It pushed itself directly up into the air, lights flashing in a steady rhythm by the end of front and rear of the ship. Several spotlights lit the ground beneath the ship up, as it took off in the night.

“Launch successful, retracting landing gear.” Mireille’s voice echoed through the radio system. The ship roared again, as it flew upwards, ascending with incredible speed, leaving behind trails of smoke. The trip wouldn’t take more than two hours through international air, the Nostradamus classes being known for impressive speed in the atmosphere, as well as in space. The ground beneath them seemed to move quicker than one could fathom, the lights of cities passing many kilometres beneath them. It wasn’t long till they were in Asia, and soon China.
“UNF Headquarters, this is UNF Intrépide, requesting landing pad.” Muttered Captain Lewis into a microphone, releasing a green button. The button turned red for a few seconds, until it began blinking yellow. Lewis held it down again, listening to the voice.
“UNF Intrépide, this is Tower One, proceed to landing pad five.”
Lewis nodded to himself.
“Acknowledged, proceeding to LP five.”
The ship descended between the skyscrapers, just the street across the UNF Headquarters building. Mireille admired it with a smile, as they brought down the ship upon what looked mostly like a parking lot for ships. A swift bump announced the landing, as the headlights of the ship were turned off. Now, only the lights of the landing pads and buildings surrounding them lit them up. Mireille could almost make out the offices in the building, as they removed their belts.

Into the Abyss

Into the Abyss

“The dark dangerous forest is still there, my friends. Beyond the space of the astronauts and the astronomers, beyond the dark, tangled regions of Freudian and Jungian psychiatry, beyond the dubious psi-realms of Dr. Rhine, beyond the areas policed by the commissars and priests and motivations-research men, far, far beyond the mad, beat, half-hysterical laughter... the utterly unknown still is and the eerie and ghostly lurk, as much wrapped in mystery as ever.”

― Fritz Leiber

The Realm of Men

The wind was unusually calm that morning. The ship sailed forward without any disturbance, not even the sea protested as the wooden construction moved through the blue depths. The tradesmen aboard the ship went about their business, recovering from an awful storm which had haunted the ship the night before. They had set sail from the Midlands long ago, and Eliana could not quite keep track of the days. She had been on the way to Raylia for weeks by now, after arriving at a harbour in the Midlands, where she managed to convince the tradesmen to take her along with them on the ship.

The girl sat in the small cabin she had been given and stared out the window. The waves moved in that blue colour everything did for her recently. After the council had managed to fix her sight to an extent, a patch, as the grandmaster Larnicus had put it. She looked around in the cabin. There was no one else here, a simple silence, which she expected she would grow used to in the coming weeks, maybe even months or years. There was no saying how long it would take to find those Lafontairre brothers, or if they were even still alive. Far as Eliana knew; the small sparks of a rebellion might already have been extinguished.

“Land ahoy!” the boy in the mast shouted, as Eliana wandered outside to the deck. In the distance, she could sense a horizon of a town, but it was faint. The men amongst her began discussing amongst themselves, of how they’d sell their wares, what they’d spent the money on and so on. None of them had spoken to the half-blind girl, besides when food was being served. It had been far from enjoyable, but Eliana suspected it could’ve been a worse trip.

The chatter from the harbour soon overwhelmed the men aboard the ship, as the ship’s passengers made their way onto the dock. Eliana adjusted the straps on her satchel, as she made her way towards the centre of the fisherman’s town. She was headed towards Loyton, wherever that was. East, she had been told. “And east I am.” Eliana sighed to herself.

It had not taken long to find the local tavern. It was loud inside, and whether it was a celebration or a brawl could be anyone’s guess. Eliana stood outside the door, listening to the madness inside. She had not been on her own for years and felt an awful anxiety rising within her, at the realisation of her situation. The door before her barged open, as a man stumbled outside, giving her a half-arsed greeting as he drunkenly stumbled forward, headed for god knows where. She offered him a wave, as he passed. And with a quick step, she wandered inside, groaning at the many new shapes that glowed blue before her. “Best fit in.” A voice whispered from somewhere, and Eliana turned her head in confusion, finding no one to be near her. Several people had passed her, and each one of them could’ve been the culprit. Nonetheless, it had sent a chill down her spine, and thus her paranoia already grew.

“Loyton?!” The man snorted into a loud laughter, waving his hand about. “What in the Queen’s name do you want to find in Loyton!? It’s nothing impressive, jeune dame.” His raylian accent sliced right through, and Eliana simply sat with her hands in her lap, sighing internally.

“But I’m certain someone is nuts enough to take you. It’s a mess, jeune dame.” He almost laughed, taking a swig of his mead.

“Because of the rebels?” Eliana bluntly asked him. The man shot her a glare, hushing her.
“You want to get tossed into the cells? This is a town of the Queen! And there isn’t any rebellion, mind. It was false rumours, I tell you.” The man snorted again, more so disappointed this time. He leant across the table, lowering his voice. “But you sparked my curiosity. Why in the world do you want to find damned rebels? And how do you intend on doing that, with them des yeux étranges?” he motioned to her eyes, though she knew little of what the words even meant.

“My eyes?” Eliana paused, wetting her lips as she pondered. “An accident, but I’m only half-blind, really.” She muttered, unsure how he would respond. He sat and stared at her for a bit, shaking his head.
“I still asked you a question.”

Eliana looked over her shoulder, peering towards the other silhouettes in the room. She had hoped a young girl asking about rebels would be common here, but it seemed not.

“My father got killed in a skirmish. I was told the rebels got to him, collateral damage, or so.” She looked back at him, nodding sternly. “I want to know the truth.”

From what she could make out, he smirked back at her, grinning to himself. “Thought I could tell from those R’s.”
Eliana looked towards him, eyebrow perked. “What?”

“The way you pronounce your R’s, jeune dame. ‘S a hint of Raylian, I tell you.” He proudly leaned backwards, as if he had just solved an ancient riddle of some gypsy. Which left Eliana to sit silent for a moment, contemplating the way she pronounced her R’s. It could not have been much noticeable, as no one had ever commented on the bloody thing before. Truth be told, she had not spent much time in Raylian company either. It was almost a thought interesting enough, that it took her mind off the heavy smell of mead that had occupied the room.

“Nonetheless, I ain’t sending you in the way of rebels, ‘cause there ain’t any.”
Her hands went to clutch a small totem, residing around her neck as a simple and small necklace. The wooden material was a soothing friend, as she let her mind race. It might’ve been true. Maybe there weren’t any. Maybe, they had all been killed by the orders of this Queen, that nobody had supposedly seen in months.
She sat alone at the table for long, tapping her fingers against the wood. The drunkard had left her long ago, when she had silently murmured a ‘thanks’, for the little help he had been able to give her.
Her stream of thoughts was interrupted by the sudden silence that overtook the room. Someone had stepped into the tavern, clad in something that sounded awfully heavy to carry around. The soldiers shouted something in the native Raylian, which Eliana understood barely the half of. They repeated themselves in the common tongue, frustrated.

“Anyone who arrived on a ship this morning, this noon or this evening; steps outside – now!”

Assassin's Creed Setting! (18+) (MxF)

Bump!

Assassin's Creed Setting! (18+) (MxF)

Bumping

The Realm of Men

The halls of Tharenbrook were as mysteriously warm as ever. Even in blindness the heat and the scents caused a warm-fuzzy-feeling in Eliana. She sat by herself in a large room, unable to admire the decorations. The young Walker had only once before visited Tharenbrook, the ancient keep of the Spiritwalkers. Back then, years ago at her ceremony. It all seemed so distant now, as she sat there and contemplated. Sekaia had barely had time to say goodbye to her, once they had arrived. There were things to do. had one of the guardians told Eliana, as he guided her into the hall. No one had told her anything besides Sekaia, and it had been awfully limited.

Her blonde hair had become fairly curly lately, as far as she could feel. The minutes went by, and the familiar sensation of loneliness returned, even here, at the temple of her people. She liked to imagine the halls filled with sounds of laughter and happiness, but it had never quite been like that. There had never been time for parties, relaxing and enjoying a friends company. No, there were always things to do.
At last Ellie heard the sound of a door opening and a pair of footsteps echoing through the empty hall. She counted each step to herself until the person had arrived. A faint blue shimmer made out a silhouette of the person in front of her. It was a refreshing sight amidst all the darkness she had become so used to. The steps were lighter than Sekaia’s.

“Eliana.” A feminine voice started, as a woman clasped her hands behind her back, looking down at the blind girl. “They’ll have you now. They have discussed.” Medita held out her elderly hand to assist Eliana along. While she could guide herself by following the blue silhouette, a guiding hand was a welcome. They wandered through the hall until they reached the main door. Within, Eliana was met with five additional shimmers. From what she could sense, four of them faced her in silence, whilst the last silhouette had it’s back turned. She guessed only once who that was.

The door was closed behind her, as Medita took her leave again. Eliana stepped forward, careful as a child in the middle of the night, until the ethereal silhouettes she had become used to calling fellow Walkers were a few meters from her. The middle one turned around and took a heavy step forward.

Larnicus eyed the woman silently for a minute. He sensed her disturbed essence, a fractured mind that was bewildered, mournful and alone. The Grandmaster furrowed his brows. Even in that state, she stood in front of them. Will, he assumed. Jonius had managed to teach her something, at least. Larnicus cracked a brief smile to himself before he finally spoke. He valued his words and wasn’t a man of many. The years had taken its toll, but the Grandmaster was still respected beyond comparison. There were stories of him, so many stories.

“Do not let the young Sekaia frighten you, Eliana Metillius. He knew what he had to, but we do not blame you for the death of Jonius.” Larnicus paused briefly. “Not without evidence. Please, come sit.” The bulky Walker made his way towards the blind girl that was yet to speak, guiding her to a chair.
“Your staff?” one of the others spoke, a man as well, most likely around the same age as Larnicus, whatever that age actually was.

Eliana sighed, shaking her head. “It withered.”

“Withered.” The second man muttered thoughtfully, wrinkling his nose.

Larnicus placed his hand an inch from Eliana’s face, in the same moment as his eyes turned to the ethereal blue, and a glow forged around his hand. Even Eliana could see the blue light clearly. In fact, it had been the only thing that made it past her blindness. From the circle on his hand, the magical essence moved towards her head and surging into Eliana’s eyes. She sat still, did not protest for a second.

Pictures started swarming before her eyes; the last month before the loss of her sight. Everything went by so quickly that she could barely see any of them. Not until she saw that wretched city. Lowburg.
The entire evening went in a loop. The Grandmaster saw as she, and he wandered within her mind to find the answers he sought. Eliana was forced to see Jonius succumb to the poison, over and over again. A single memory froze before both of them. The sight of the door opening as Eliana was crawling out the window. Through the door came a blade glowing from molten heat. The picture disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Eliana once again saw only the darkness and the blue shimmer again. A single tear streamed down her cheek, but alas she was silent.

“Where were the rumours of the Nythlon ritual heard?” Larnicus turned towards his fellow Walkers, as the magic faded away again.

“We don’t know if it was a Nythlon ritual. It was drunkards shouting nonsense about heating blades.” A woman scoffed.

“And killing ‘witches’ and ‘sorcerers’. It is no coincidence. Where was it?” Muttered the old Grandmaster back.

The woman sighed. “It was in Loyton, eastern Raylia. But it is chaotic down there, Grandmaster. No one would go there willingly.”

Larnicus turned his gaze towards Eliana. “Eliana.” She froze. “I know we are in no position to ask anything of you, but so we must. The Withering is most … unfortunate.” He grimaced. “But I’ll do what I can to help you. I cannot recover what is lost, you may only pray that whoever fractured your spirit does not know how to harm you with the piece they stole.” The elderly man leaned down, inspecting the empty eyes.

“It can be recovered, but for now we’ll patch the wound.” Larnicus nodded to himself, as he gestured the others to step forward. Eliana opened her mouth to protest, but alas was too late. Each of the five began channeling energy towards her in unison. It felt as a warm embrace by a mother, a hug from a long lost friend or even a warming smile from a stranger. What was lost was not recovered, but Eliana saw again. Not as she did before, but she saw outlines of … everything. She saw people around her, the shape of their noses, the table that they surrounded, everything in the same blue color.

“What did you…?” Eliana looked around, trying to fathom this new ‘sight’.

“As I said, we patched the wound. It will not heal by itself, but it won’t bleed.” Larnicus folded his hands. “Eliana?” the man started, observing her.

“I... Would I go alone?” She looked up towards him, still not seeing a face like she did before, but it was a change for the better. To her question, the Grandmaster pondered briefly, before plainly asking her. “Can you?” His tone indicated he knew the answer already, but Eliana enjoyed at least feeling like she had a saying for a change.

“I think so, yes. But where will I go? Who will I talk to?” She got up, slightly wobbly on her feet.

“Raylia is a conflict zone right now. There are screams and shouting of a rebellion. It’s a nation on the brink of erupting. There’s a person there we’ve kept an eye on, two, in fact. They’re siblings, strangely enough. According to Medita, they’re deeply involved with the rebels. You’ll want to seek them out. Help them. Befriend them, whatever it takes. Someone down there knows of a ritual they shouldn’t. The murderers knew of you and Jonius’ arrival, they knew whom to poison. The only thing they hadn’t accounted for was the success of your escape. Those fools don’t know the powers they’re messing with, they’re attempting to steal your very being and twist it into a subject of theirs. They’re madmen. A cult. And if there is a faint chance that they’ve been to Loyton, then it’s where we’re headed.” Larnicus postured up, looking towards the markings in the ceiling.

“Take a few days to rest. If you want revenge, closure or answers, you have your chance. We’ve presented it to you, you only need to accept it.”

Eliana stood in silence. She had always been used to simply following Jonius around like a clingy little sister, but now was handed a choice of her own. It was a chance to find answers, and possibly bring justice to Jonius’ killers. But… did she want that? Did she, deeply within that fractured soul of hers, truly want that? She had to, didn’t she? If not that, then what else? What else would there be for her?

“I’ll find them. Each and everyone that had anything to do with this.” Eliana stated, almost gleefully surprised by the confidence in her voice.

“Of course. The name you’ll be looking for is Lafontairre. You won’t miss them once you’re there.” Larnicus muttered, rubbing his forehead. “They’re awfully loud.”

Star Wars: TIE Fighter

Cora nodded at Garik’s last words, smiling faintly to him. She had a habit of those kinds of smiles. Inherited, she always said. But seconds earlier, there had been a certain… aura, escaping him, a sense of seriousness, perhaps reality hitting him? It spread like wildfire, at least. Perhaps it wasn’t even that, but the whole scenario caused her to take in a deep breath. Block it out, then. She thought to herself. Nonetheless, Garik didn’t need to sense nervousness from her. It wouldn’t benefit anyone.

“Don’t worry. I’ll less than a bantha away.” She nodded, as Garik took his leave. Cora soon followed the direction he had headed, out towards the hangar. With a quick swipe, she opened up the datapad, running through the mission details. Luckily for her, it was the cockpit of a lovely bomber that awaited her. Many considered them bulkier, easy targets and whatnot. Surely they were right, to a degree at least. But she adored them. Cora ran her hand across the glass of the cockpit in a gentle manner, before carefully leaning her head against it. She let her mind go, cleared everything out. Finally, she knocked twice on it for good luck, smiling to herself.
“I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” She nudged the TIE bomber.

---

"This is Aurek Leader! Six rebel fighters just-" A quick surge of adrenaline ran through Cora as she guided her ship past a small asteroid. The rebels had come out of the blue, already gunning away at all the targets they could get. Captain Kael was gone shortly after the fighting initiated, and Cora was now desperately trying to get an overview of the situation. Her gaze stopped at the sight of her wingman Garik chasing two X-wings. The blaster fire surrounded the ships in what was almost a beautiful symphony.

An X-wing quickly began tailing Lieutenant Antosha with a dangerous pace. The young pilot flicked her stick towards his location, in an attempt to catch up. Her path was filled with rocks and debris flying everywhere. One scratched the wing, but nothing the computer decided to complain about.

“I’m coming! Jus-… F-“ Cora interrupted the chatter, as the remains of Aurek Leader flew dangerously close past her. “I see him! Almost got a lock, but if you jolt him to the left on my mark, I’ll hit him dead on!” She was almost sure. Her precision had never failed her in training, but this was far from training. If that X-wing managed to get a proper lock, there was no restart. And at that thought, Cora took in a deep breath. She loaded up a concussion missile and flicked the cover of the control stick. Without hesitation, she prepared the lock.

“On my mark! One.. Two.. Mark!” Cora close to shouted over the radio, to her wingman. There wasn’t any time to waste, and so she pressed the button. The missile was released from the TIE/sa bomber, heading straight towards the target. If only Garik managed to lure the tailing ship to the left, it would be a clean shot. But there were so many variables in space.

Star Wars: TIE Fighter

Cora sat patiently still during the briefing, observing Flight Captain Kael as he spoke. The woman had crossed her legs and upon her lap rested her datapad. During briefing she’d note down every once in a while, trying to figure out how she felt about the whole scenario. Indeed, the flight school was over, but their first mission – her first mission was affected by the survivors of Turkana’s lust for revenge. But it was only fair, as much as it worried Cora. However, the new squadron to which she had been assigned, had no emotions concerning the situation, seeing as they had not participated in the battle. At least Cora prayed they didn’t. She wasn’t especially keen on being shot down on her first run.

As the briefing came to an end, Cora stood up and quickly dusted off her black uniform and gave her ponytail a quick tuck. Her eyes glanced around the room, observing the seasoned pilots as they went about their business. They reminded her much of the workers back home on Balmorra, all going about their business in their matching uniforms. Still, they carried different expressions. Some were cheery, eager to finally acquire the opportunity for revenge that they so heavily sought after. Some looked ever so melancholic. Perhaps they had lost a wingman, a friend? Cora became still in her observation, still clinging onto the datapad, holding it against the bottom of her imperial shirt.

It wasn’t until she was approached that she reacted. The pilot inspected her for an unusual amount of time, which she finally noticed. Cora turned her head to return the favour, finding him almost scanning her as if she was a droid.

"Lieutenant Antocha. Don't get me killed." Garik blurted out all of a sudden. Cora blinked for a second before she recognized him from the message she had received, when she was assigned to the squad. Caught slightly off guard, Cora extended her hand just as she spoke.

“Do you greet all girls like that, Lieutenant Antocha?” she carefully smiled, before continuing. “Lieutenant Tarneia, but I’m assuming you already knew that, no?” Cora observed him with a curious, yet careful gaze. Flight school had done what it could to get used to meeting strangers, but she wasn’t exactly a natural. There was an attempt, at least.

“We’ve been assigned as wingmen if I’m not mistaken, right? I’ve not met anyone else from the squadron yet, have you?” Cora asked as she once again wrapped her arms around the datapad and let her emerald green eyes look around, to reinforce her question.