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Andromeda: Know no bounds - A Sci-Fi character narrative!
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5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Victoria had kept quiet as the scouting party crept through the wasteland that had been Amone, hunching over subconsciously as if to press her tall form as close to the ground as possible, fighting the urge to crawl through the dust and grit like the rat who's skull decorated her hat. The destruction caused by the distant artillery fire was awesome in the literal sense of the word, instilling a sense of breathtaking fear and apprehension towards the engines of misery that could end scores of lives in a single explosive burst from far out of view. She respected them, what they represented: power. Power through force, power that could extend itself to reach thousands of yards away. No one was above them. You either paid the respects they were due or they took your life. Simple as that. Just like back, the strong took what they wanted.
She knew of course just how monstrous it was to respected those engines of violent death, knew it was a symptom of deep troubles. But she was in no position to complain. That same repulsive glee at the thought of violence that had plagued her three years ago was thriving in this awful environment, flourishing in the bombed out rubble. The Rat was taking control just as it had in the fight at the party, the same force that made her gouge out a girl's throat and crush a man's skull into mulch with her rifle keeping her keen and wary. Rats cared only for their own survival and that was her only goal for the time being: survive to see Elizabeth again.
So the Rat kept going, her usual smirk drawn into a tight lip grimace that made her ugly scar stretch tight across her face. She didn't say a word, simply checking the remains of buildings when instructed with a workman like efficiency. Smoothly she'd wheel through each room, checking corners and opening closets with her bayonet, all the while scooping loose change and trinkets of varying worth into her pockets and bag with hardly a thought. Whoever had owned them before wasn't around to ask her to stop. Every now and again the though of looting one of those towers would cross her mind, tempting her with visions of gilded religious iconography relics of saints. But even she wasn't so greedy that her common sense was dulled. Those were the most likely places for a area denial booby trap, a grenade rigged to go off or a knife attacked to a makeshift crossbow, hell even a rifle with a string around the trigger attached to the door.
So Vicky just waited for the Darcian leader to give his next order, picking under her nails with her bayonet as he considered whatever it was officers considered and snapping to attention why she was addressed. The only answer Jean got was a thumbs up in response, creeping in with a silent snarl etched on her face, fully loaded and ready to kill. So it was a bit of a letdown when all that was in there were crates of ammo for the sandbagged guns and a few opened tins of food. Oh well. She continued up the stairs to the second floor, taking a moment to eye her squad through the window before taking a lazy look through the cabinets and end tables. Torn open envelopes, bits of a journal, scraps of cheesy love poems written by a truly artless Imperial soldier, nothing of value or interest.
Until she kicked at sloppily wrapped bedroll, dislodging a few dead cigarettes and a sheaf of papers written in Europan Common. The Rat moved to dismiss them offhand at the apparent lack of value but stopped cold as the words IMPERIAL DEFENSE PLAN jumped out a her. Curiosity now aroused Victoria squatted down on her powerful haunches and leafed through the sheets, brown eyes widening as she read. She was looking at the Empire's final desperate solution to hold Amone, reading a map depicting a tightly focused line of defence running through the Cathedral. It called for troops to be relocated, ammo and food and medicine to be stockpiled, new equipment to be issued all in the name of making themselves as hard as possible to dislodge. There were would be no rout, no falling back to regroup. The Imperial Army would have to be beaten to death and dragged out of their trench, driven from their defences and into the maw of the Federation war machine with bullets and bombs and blades. It was going to be costly for both sides no matter who managed to hold out longer. "Fine then cunts." She thought to herself with a grin. "Let's see how long you hold up."
She might've just earned herself a medal, or a promotion! That would be fun, a set of stripes on her sleeve to rub in Luke's face. Private white was gone, Corporal White was here to stay. Chuckling at her delusions of grandeur Vicky put the plans back in their folder and tramped downstairs, ready to show off her find when she heard the scream. Immediately the Rat kicked into action taking cover in the stairwell and clutching her carbine, waiting for any follow up sounds with her finger on the trigger. Let them come, let them come, let come!" she repeated to herself, getting herself ready to draw blood by way of repeated mantra. But nothing came, Victoria calming down after a minute or so and walking out into the rain. Heavy drops of water pitter-pattered against her hat and rolled off her canvas cape, the Oceanic stepping towards Luke and Jean. Before she could reach the tram car the Francian had gotten to it, reacting in horror to unseen threat. She sprinted towards him with rifle in hand, boots leaving prints in the mud and dust as she skidded to a stop next to him.
She had been expecting to see an Imperial ambush of some kind, not corpses. She breathed a sigh of relief, a wan smile on her face. While the Rat had been craving action Vicky didn't exactly want to trade bullets if she could avoid. So the sight of bodies was welcome to her. The smell much less so. She was reminded of when the ranchers would burn their infected livestock, the charred flesh left to rot in a pit and stinking up the air. Her mother had once told her that meat was best when it was falling off the bone. By that standard the soldiers and civilians down the street were positively delicious. More roasted corpses choked the path, a feast for maggots and crows and a source of confusion for Victoria. Had they been doused with gasoline before being set ablaze? But why waste the time and effort? Was this just a show of power, or a test of some new weapon.
She turned to asked Jean what he thought but decided against it when he collapsed, inquires about his health dying in her throat as he vomited. Instead of asking if he was okay she simply pursed her lips and dropped her canteen next to him, the offer of clean water there if needed it. Once again she was having second thoughts about her squad leader. Was he going to break down every time he saw something horrific? They would never get anything done if every few blocks he started puking his guts out. The Rat wanted to drag him up by the arms and slap some sense into him, beat every last ounce of cowardice out of his system until he was a competent leader. But she did no such thing, simply spitting on the ground in disgust and continuing onward when instructed.
The Gallian regiment proved to be of some interested, Vicky digging through pockets until she found a medal to compare to the one she had stolen during the gas attack. Just as she had thought, it was a Gallian decoration of some kind. The new award was placed in her pocket next to its older counterpart, the clinking of metal drowned out by the sudden sound of a shell arcing towards the camp. "Fuck!"
The explosion had been big, big enough to be felt all this way from the camp. They were really stepping up their game. But there was no time to consider that, not when a bullet caused some stray Ragnite to explode in a burst of flame and shrapnel. Instinctively she threw her cape up to protect herself from the searing heat as she dropped to the floor, dragging herself behind a pile of rubble and looking around to take stock of the situation.
Marathon was fucked. His leg had been suddenly and violently separated from his body, the limb lying in a pool of blood away from it's owner. All she could do was go pale in the face and tremble violently, a thumb jerking towards the rough location of the shooter. She simultaneously wanted to curl into a ball and cry and rush the shooter so she could tear them limb from limb, white hot rage clashing with fear. Rage won out, listening to Luke's plan through a haze of a screaming need for revenge. Her first thought was drag Thomas back into cover but the fucking sniper would be expecting that. Luke's plan was a good one, but she wasn't waiting for their piece of shit officer to find his balls and answer.
She was going to get shit done.
With a roar of pure hatred the Rat exploded from behind their cover, using the natural gift of speed she had honed in back alley brawls and dusty footraces to propel herself past Thomas and his leg, past Jean and his weakness, past Luke and his mommy issues and towards the field gun. She screamed as she fired wildly at the tower, three shots burying themselves in the stone, challenging the Imperial bastard up there to take her out she blasted them directly to Hell. She was sailing across loose cobblestones and lead bullets, graceful in the way a rampaging tiger was, or an avenging angel dragging sinners down to eternal torment. Grace and fury melded into a single form...
Until she slipped and smacked directly into the gun, splitting her forehead. The Oceanic killer swore violently as pain flashed through her skull and blood matted the strands of hair hanging across her face, forcing herself up from the ground and checking to see if it was loaded. It was, she was clear to start dragging the barrel of the gun into position. With a groan of rusted metal from the cannon and grunt of exertion from Vicky the barrel began to turn, the Rat focused on blowing the tower to high hell. Luke could come over there and help or stay there and confer with the piece of shit officer, it mattered little to her.
@LetMeDoStuff @Jacky
She knew of course just how monstrous it was to respected those engines of violent death, knew it was a symptom of deep troubles. But she was in no position to complain. That same repulsive glee at the thought of violence that had plagued her three years ago was thriving in this awful environment, flourishing in the bombed out rubble. The Rat was taking control just as it had in the fight at the party, the same force that made her gouge out a girl's throat and crush a man's skull into mulch with her rifle keeping her keen and wary. Rats cared only for their own survival and that was her only goal for the time being: survive to see Elizabeth again.
So the Rat kept going, her usual smirk drawn into a tight lip grimace that made her ugly scar stretch tight across her face. She didn't say a word, simply checking the remains of buildings when instructed with a workman like efficiency. Smoothly she'd wheel through each room, checking corners and opening closets with her bayonet, all the while scooping loose change and trinkets of varying worth into her pockets and bag with hardly a thought. Whoever had owned them before wasn't around to ask her to stop. Every now and again the though of looting one of those towers would cross her mind, tempting her with visions of gilded religious iconography relics of saints. But even she wasn't so greedy that her common sense was dulled. Those were the most likely places for a area denial booby trap, a grenade rigged to go off or a knife attacked to a makeshift crossbow, hell even a rifle with a string around the trigger attached to the door.
So Vicky just waited for the Darcian leader to give his next order, picking under her nails with her bayonet as he considered whatever it was officers considered and snapping to attention why she was addressed. The only answer Jean got was a thumbs up in response, creeping in with a silent snarl etched on her face, fully loaded and ready to kill. So it was a bit of a letdown when all that was in there were crates of ammo for the sandbagged guns and a few opened tins of food. Oh well. She continued up the stairs to the second floor, taking a moment to eye her squad through the window before taking a lazy look through the cabinets and end tables. Torn open envelopes, bits of a journal, scraps of cheesy love poems written by a truly artless Imperial soldier, nothing of value or interest.
Until she kicked at sloppily wrapped bedroll, dislodging a few dead cigarettes and a sheaf of papers written in Europan Common. The Rat moved to dismiss them offhand at the apparent lack of value but stopped cold as the words IMPERIAL DEFENSE PLAN jumped out a her. Curiosity now aroused Victoria squatted down on her powerful haunches and leafed through the sheets, brown eyes widening as she read. She was looking at the Empire's final desperate solution to hold Amone, reading a map depicting a tightly focused line of defence running through the Cathedral. It called for troops to be relocated, ammo and food and medicine to be stockpiled, new equipment to be issued all in the name of making themselves as hard as possible to dislodge. There were would be no rout, no falling back to regroup. The Imperial Army would have to be beaten to death and dragged out of their trench, driven from their defences and into the maw of the Federation war machine with bullets and bombs and blades. It was going to be costly for both sides no matter who managed to hold out longer. "Fine then cunts." She thought to herself with a grin. "Let's see how long you hold up."
She might've just earned herself a medal, or a promotion! That would be fun, a set of stripes on her sleeve to rub in Luke's face. Private white was gone, Corporal White was here to stay. Chuckling at her delusions of grandeur Vicky put the plans back in their folder and tramped downstairs, ready to show off her find when she heard the scream. Immediately the Rat kicked into action taking cover in the stairwell and clutching her carbine, waiting for any follow up sounds with her finger on the trigger. Let them come, let them come, let come!" she repeated to herself, getting herself ready to draw blood by way of repeated mantra. But nothing came, Victoria calming down after a minute or so and walking out into the rain. Heavy drops of water pitter-pattered against her hat and rolled off her canvas cape, the Oceanic stepping towards Luke and Jean. Before she could reach the tram car the Francian had gotten to it, reacting in horror to unseen threat. She sprinted towards him with rifle in hand, boots leaving prints in the mud and dust as she skidded to a stop next to him.
She had been expecting to see an Imperial ambush of some kind, not corpses. She breathed a sigh of relief, a wan smile on her face. While the Rat had been craving action Vicky didn't exactly want to trade bullets if she could avoid. So the sight of bodies was welcome to her. The smell much less so. She was reminded of when the ranchers would burn their infected livestock, the charred flesh left to rot in a pit and stinking up the air. Her mother had once told her that meat was best when it was falling off the bone. By that standard the soldiers and civilians down the street were positively delicious. More roasted corpses choked the path, a feast for maggots and crows and a source of confusion for Victoria. Had they been doused with gasoline before being set ablaze? But why waste the time and effort? Was this just a show of power, or a test of some new weapon.
She turned to asked Jean what he thought but decided against it when he collapsed, inquires about his health dying in her throat as he vomited. Instead of asking if he was okay she simply pursed her lips and dropped her canteen next to him, the offer of clean water there if needed it. Once again she was having second thoughts about her squad leader. Was he going to break down every time he saw something horrific? They would never get anything done if every few blocks he started puking his guts out. The Rat wanted to drag him up by the arms and slap some sense into him, beat every last ounce of cowardice out of his system until he was a competent leader. But she did no such thing, simply spitting on the ground in disgust and continuing onward when instructed.
The Gallian regiment proved to be of some interested, Vicky digging through pockets until she found a medal to compare to the one she had stolen during the gas attack. Just as she had thought, it was a Gallian decoration of some kind. The new award was placed in her pocket next to its older counterpart, the clinking of metal drowned out by the sudden sound of a shell arcing towards the camp. "Fuck!"
The explosion had been big, big enough to be felt all this way from the camp. They were really stepping up their game. But there was no time to consider that, not when a bullet caused some stray Ragnite to explode in a burst of flame and shrapnel. Instinctively she threw her cape up to protect herself from the searing heat as she dropped to the floor, dragging herself behind a pile of rubble and looking around to take stock of the situation.
Marathon was fucked. His leg had been suddenly and violently separated from his body, the limb lying in a pool of blood away from it's owner. All she could do was go pale in the face and tremble violently, a thumb jerking towards the rough location of the shooter. She simultaneously wanted to curl into a ball and cry and rush the shooter so she could tear them limb from limb, white hot rage clashing with fear. Rage won out, listening to Luke's plan through a haze of a screaming need for revenge. Her first thought was drag Thomas back into cover but the fucking sniper would be expecting that. Luke's plan was a good one, but she wasn't waiting for their piece of shit officer to find his balls and answer.
She was going to get shit done.
With a roar of pure hatred the Rat exploded from behind their cover, using the natural gift of speed she had honed in back alley brawls and dusty footraces to propel herself past Thomas and his leg, past Jean and his weakness, past Luke and his mommy issues and towards the field gun. She screamed as she fired wildly at the tower, three shots burying themselves in the stone, challenging the Imperial bastard up there to take her out she blasted them directly to Hell. She was sailing across loose cobblestones and lead bullets, graceful in the way a rampaging tiger was, or an avenging angel dragging sinners down to eternal torment. Grace and fury melded into a single form...
Until she slipped and smacked directly into the gun, splitting her forehead. The Oceanic killer swore violently as pain flashed through her skull and blood matted the strands of hair hanging across her face, forcing herself up from the ground and checking to see if it was loaded. It was, she was clear to start dragging the barrel of the gun into position. With a groan of rusted metal from the cannon and grunt of exertion from Vicky the barrel began to turn, the Rat focused on blowing the tower to high hell. Luke could come over there and help or stay there and confer with the piece of shit officer, it mattered little to her.
@LetMeDoStuff @Jacky
Callsign:Void
Adrift in Space
Four days. She had been cooped up in the cockpit of her ship for four days. Four days spent chewing on tasteless rations and tracing shapes with her claws in the dust that gathered on the craft's dashboard, alternating between napping and watching bootleg recordings of ancient movies and shows on her HUD. There was nothing else she could do. The ship's course had been locked in and she would only need to take the reins from the AI running things if someone pursued her. That was unlikely, no one was coming out this way. Void had skipped the gates needed for the jump to hyperspace because that's where they'd be looking for her. Lovos and their hired dogs, the bounty hunters and mercenaries they had on retainer. Fuck, there could even be elite Retrieval Teams waiting for her at every gate! The bioweapon had been assigned to work with them on occasion, enough to know that she never wanted to be on the opposite side of the field.
So the only way to go was through the emptiness of open space, the thrusts killed to save fuel. All the engine was doing was providing heat to the cockpit, the momentum from earlier travel gently pushing the Strfye along at a slow and steady pace. Nothing around her except the stars and long dead satellites that occasionally interrupted the upbeat, frenetic music piping through the high quality speakers she had replaced the stock ones with. It served as a wakeup call of sorts, energetic and lively enough to get her wanting to moving. The target was getting closer and closer and soon she would have to make a leap of faith, throw herself back into the life she had tried to escape after a brief hiatus. She would have to cover her comfortable wife-beater and sweatpants with ceramic and aramid armor that always left her fur drenched in sweat. For now she could lounge in her chair and sip at her coffee between bites of dehydrated paste claiming to be mashed potatoes, but in the near future she'd gulping down water provided to her by the survival system in her armor and choking down lumps of vascular flesh in order to stay alive after some bastard Black Legionary landed a snap shot on her.
Her life was just a series of gunfights, dodging bullets and forcing herself to consume the hearts of her enemies like some kind of space age barbarian. All because the greedy suits at Lovos wanted a monster they could lease out to any army
Adrift in Space
Four days. She had been cooped up in the cockpit of her ship for four days. Four days spent chewing on tasteless rations and tracing shapes with her claws in the dust that gathered on the craft's dashboard, alternating between napping and watching bootleg recordings of ancient movies and shows on her HUD. There was nothing else she could do. The ship's course had been locked in and she would only need to take the reins from the AI running things if someone pursued her. That was unlikely, no one was coming out this way. Void had skipped the gates needed for the jump to hyperspace because that's where they'd be looking for her. Lovos and their hired dogs, the bounty hunters and mercenaries they had on retainer. Fuck, there could even be elite Retrieval Teams waiting for her at every gate! The bioweapon had been assigned to work with them on occasion, enough to know that she never wanted to be on the opposite side of the field.
So the only way to go was through the emptiness of open space, the thrusts killed to save fuel. All the engine was doing was providing heat to the cockpit, the momentum from earlier travel gently pushing the Strfye along at a slow and steady pace. Nothing around her except the stars and long dead satellites that occasionally interrupted the upbeat, frenetic music piping through the high quality speakers she had replaced the stock ones with. It served as a wakeup call of sorts, energetic and lively enough to get her wanting to moving. The target was getting closer and closer and soon she would have to make a leap of faith, throw herself back into the life she had tried to escape after a brief hiatus. She would have to cover her comfortable wife-beater and sweatpants with ceramic and aramid armor that always left her fur drenched in sweat. For now she could lounge in her chair and sip at her coffee between bites of dehydrated paste claiming to be mashed potatoes, but in the near future she'd gulping down water provided to her by the survival system in her armor and choking down lumps of vascular flesh in order to stay alive after some bastard Black Legionary landed a snap shot on her.
Her life was just a series of gunfights, dodging bullets and forcing herself to consume the hearts of her enemies like some kind of space age barbarian. All because the greedy suits at Lovos wanted a monster they could lease out to any army
Lovos Armaments: Rugged, Reliable, Relentless
The following is a report on the escaped bioweapon CZ-18B3, better known as Callsign: Void. It had been leased out to the mercenary company McCulloch Security a tracker and breacher, but escaped containment the day before she was due to be shipped back to our care. CZ-18B3 is an incredibly powerful tool and is worth a great expense to recover, but will not go quietly. If it's ever found again.
McCulloch Security provided the following transcript of an interview of Void done by her McCulloch assigned handler a day before her escape.
IDENTITY?
"My call sign is Void."
WHAT WAS YOUR NAME BEFORE YOU WERE ACTIVATED?
"....I don't know."
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
"I have been operational for two (2) standard years after you rented me."
WHAT IS YOUR AGE?
"...I have been oper-"
HOW MANY YEARS HAVE YOU BEEN CONSCIOUS TOTAL?
"I can't answer that. All memories before my reactivation are blocked from me."
WHAT ARE YOU?
"...My call sign is Void."
WHAT SPECIES ARE YOU?
At this point Void became audibly agitated and readings showed heightened aggression and anxiety.
"Why do you people keep asking stupid questions? You know what I am! I am nothing but a weapon, a loaded gun Lovos sells to fuckers like you so you can point at targets and make me slaughter them! "
VOID, CALM DOWN.
"How can you expect me to be calm? Whatever I was, whatever life I had however long ago, those bastards stole it and made me a monster and now all I am to anyone is property!"
CZ-18B3, CALM DOWN OR YOU WILL DEACTIVATED.
According to the transcript Void refused to speak anymore.
Name: The bioweapon is designated CZ-18B3 but uses the callsign "Void". It has also been known to use other pseudonyms in the field.
Age: The unit 39 years of age.
Race: Lupine Terran
Genetics: Psionics and cybernetics enhanced genetic bioweapon.
Appearance: Void was designed so that on the outside it would appear as nothing more than a Canis Lupus Columbianus Terranus (Terran British Columbian Wolf.) Biologically female, Void stands at 1.8 meters tall (6 feet, two inches) and is covered by a layer of black fur that stand in contrast to a pair of cold blue eyes. Void is well-built with a visible six pack and powerful muscles in its arms and legs. Scars trace crisscross through the fur on it's back, wounds sustained from a grenade on her previous assignment.
When not in the field Void is noted to prefer a black synth-leather jacket and jeans, with a pair of aviators depending on the level of light. Note: Prefer doesn't mean wears exclusively. Void knows that it's being looked for, it's likely that she has by now acquired other outfits. In combat Void wears a suit Mk. 4X Scout Armor that enhances her already augmented senses and is equipped with air filters, communication equipment, water purifiers, and other various survival equipment.
-------------------------
Important items: Void is licensed to pilot Stryfe-class fighters so there's a good chance it used one to make her escape.
Weapons: 1. Chimera Automatic Assault Energy Weapon:The AAEW is a close range to mid range versatile weapon that is equally suited to clearing crowds or dealing with single targets with two rates of fire. The first is fully automatic, blasts of green plasma being spat from the rotating barrels and split into individual splashes, like the pellets of a shotgun. The second mode is a charge shot that can melt through armor and flesh and even do minor damage to the hulls of ships.
2. Eminence Royal Armory Co. Huntsman Rifle: The Huntsman Scout Rifle (Figure 5 in the attached image) was orignally inteded as a ceremony or display peace, but is still nontheless a solidly functioning railgun. Void's enhanced eyesight allow her to make use of it from extreme ranges without the help of a scope.
3. Warfighter 23: Mass produced and well loved, the Warfighter serves as Void's backup weapon and tool for close in assassinations.
4. Wrist Ports: Void is equipped with payload launchers in her wrist that can cycle between varroius grenade types, monofilament nets, grappling hooks, jets of fire and even blasts of blinding acid.
5. Claws: Void's original claws have been replaced nanocarbon cutting implements that can be coated with a thin film of energy to slice steel.
Physical Abilities:1. Speed and Reflexes: The natural dexterity of a predator has been improved with genetically enhanced muscles and mind. Void is capable of holding her own in unarmed or melee combat with multiple foes and is nigh impossible to outrun.
2. Hardened Shell: Under the outer layer skin Void has a secondary shell of hardened cartilage and sinew that serves as a secondary defense against damage. It's not enough to stop a bullet by completely stop a bullet by itself, but can be a lifesaver when combined with armor.
3. Senses: Void call call upon a HUD display that overlays on top of her field of view, keeping track of ammo, targets in view, weather conditions and even show a list of objectives. It can see in thermal and infrared vision and can zoom in up to to ten times. It's capable of tracking targets by smell only, and can focus to be able to pick up the sound of heartbeats.
4. Healing: The weapon has a minor healing factor, able to recover from burns and lacerations in a few hours. But for serious or life threatening wounds it needs to consume fresh heart muscle. Humanoid works best but animal hearts will do in a pinch. The freshly oxygenated blood and cardiovascular tissue is quickly burnt and put to work repairing punctured organs, replenish lost blood and knitting back together shattered bones.
Psionic Powers:1. Warp: Void is able blink in and out of existence at will, appearing in different locations in seconds. Short jumps are of little consequence, but doing long or repeated trips will leave it lightheaded, dizzy, feeling sick and even passing out in extreme circumstances.
-------------------------
Personality: Under normal circumstances Void is noted to be cordial and calm, if a bit quiet. It's capable of forming strong bond of friendship or respect as well holding grudges, something demonstrated by it's treatment of the McCulloch security forces, but is programmed to always put it's own survival first. Void is biologically female and refers to itself as such and has shown attraction to both genders but it's doubtful that romantic encounters are at the top of its list of priorities. Most likely it's focused on evading capture and uncovering details of its past missions and who it was before being converted by the Bioweapons Divison.
In the field the weapon is skilled at tracking targets and dealing with hostile terrain, having specialized in dropping into the field from high altitude or low orbit and trailing quarry before taking them out. It has a preference for close quarters combat but is more than capable of engaging targets from long range if need be.
As a side note, Void is attracted to all manner of vices. Drinking, smoking, overeating, excessive sugar intake, even casual narcotics usage. This is believed to be a sort of stress relief for the bioweapon, one it can indulge in far past the limits of a normal person thanks to it's healing factor. It's not unheard of for it to go through five packs of cigarettes in a day or four cases of beer in under an hour.
Background: In it's past life Void was Security Officer Emmi "Pathfinder" Kaone, a specialist in catching industrial spies and informants for Lovos. She had joined the company at the age of 18, intending to work through college. The Terran showed a natural affinity for combat and tracking and ended up dropping out of school when offered a six figure pay check to go through Lovos's selective specialization courses. She received training in small arms, tracking, counter-espionage, first aid and surveillance and was assigned to a recovery team at the age of 21. Within a year she was leading it, stealing back secrets from rival companies and silencing sources of leaks and particularly dangerous trade rivals.
At 25 it all went wrong. A routine surveillance job turned violent when the target pulled his weapon. A shootout ensued and local law enforcement got involved. By the end of it the target, four members of law enforcement, and two Lavos personal were dead. Of the survivors, Kaone was in critical condition and her partner was later captured and sentenced to a life sentence of hard labor. When her superiors heard about the debacle they quietly arranged for her to released from custody once her condition was stabilized for use in the company's burgeoning bioweapons project.
Over the course of three years Emmi was transformed and replaced by Void, her body hardened and implanted with weapons and enhancements. Memories of her old life were suppressed and replaced with the ability to harness the power of the mind to tear holes in the field of gestalt energy that made up the universe and travel through them. It was a long, costly, and for the subject, painful process but was no doubt worth it. The end result was a unit that could live and serve for centuries assuming it avoided violent death, a lethal hunter with the ability to heal itself using it's enemies remains. All that was needed was a way to field test it.
To accomplish this and recoup some of the money spent in it's creation the unit was rented out to various people and organizations, serving across all manner of terrain for mercenaries, armies, insurgent groups and even crime syndicates looking for a way to eliminate enemies. To keep track of it's whereabouts Unit CZ-18B3 was implanted with a tracker and kill switch and was informed of the consequences of trying to flee. So it served begrudgingly and obediently.
Until a year ago. Void was contracted out to a platoon of McCulloch Security on the asteroid mining colony of Wanderer's Refuge. McCulloch had been tasked with suppressing the miner's riots and Void was being used to eliminate leaders of the uprising. The violence reached a fever pitch and the colony was in open revolt, and communications were cut for about a week. When contact was reestablished the division didn't respond to any attempts to reach them. When teams were sent to investigate the found the entire platoon dead and Void missing. There was no sign of forced entry and the only thing taken was the unit itself and it's equipment. It had stolen itself.
The kill switch was engaged and it's signal tracked to a dingy room in a filthy traveler's hostel on a nearby hub planet but all the recovery team found was the tracker wrapped in a bloodstained napkin and tossed under the bed. It's believed that Void stole or stowed away on a ship fleeing the violence in Wanderer's Refuge and had a underground surgeon remove the device. It's also expected that it will come looking for answers, sooner or later.
Roleplay Sample: The last thing Void could clearly remember was handing over a pile of stolen credits to the street surgeon she had managed to find and discretely palming the scrap of paper with the address of the operating room they were scheduled to meet in. After that it was all just a blur of blending in crowds and sinking back into the shadows, running from shady corner to back alley and eventually holing up in a scrapyard for the night under the rusted hulk of a trashed ship. Every face in the hordes of refugees looked like a agent of Lovos, all the men hanging on street corners spies tracking her. Was communication on Wanderer's Refuge still down? Oh god she hoped it was. Every moment that passed was another moment closer to her escape being discovered and the killswitch being activated.
The bioweapon closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that the next time she woke up it could be back in the labs. Or she might just never wake up at all. With that comforting thought Void drifted off to oblivion, wrapped up in a sheet of insulating foam torn from the abandoned hulk above her.
She was up before dawn, drifting back through the alleys and shaded corners before taking a detour into the sewer system, convinced that the woman taking her early morning stroll was tailing her. The Terran emergered back into the light three streets over, right in front of the hostel. The run down building was open for business judging by the lights on inside so she could just stroll right in. But that was stupid. She needed to minimize the amount of people who saw her. Luckily there was a second option. The room she was looking for was the "penthouse", which in this case meant it had a small concrete balcony with a couple of dead plants sitting on the ledge.
She untied her boots and laced them together, hanging them around her neck as she sidled up to the dreary grey wall. No one was around at the moment, now was the time to get this done. Void pressed her hands into the concrete structure and began to climb, scrambling for quickly up the building by using the claws on her hands and feet for purchase. Within a couple minutes she was at the top, pulling herself up and over the balcony and slipping inside the apartment. The doctor wasn't there yet but that was fine. She could be productive while waited.
Void stripped off her pants and dug around the room for material, finding a discarded pen and breaking it to get access to the red ink. She marked a square roughly an inch in width and length on her inner thigh and sat down to wait, ears flat against her head. When the street surgeon arrived they didn't bother to exchange greetings, Void simply allowing him to set his stuff down and inject her with anesthesia.
Or at least let him try. The armored carapace under her skin was too tough to be pierced by the needle, the chop doc spending minutes trying with his pockmarked brow wrinkled in confusion. "Lady, what's your fur made of?" I'm not going to be able to cut through this shit!" He said annoyance. "It's not the fur, it's a-" Void cut herself there. He didn't need to know the details. Instead she just took the syringe and pricked herself in one of the few unarmored spots on her body, sinking it into the crook of her elbow and depressing the plunger. 5 milligrams of sedative potent enough to tranquilizer a horse flowed into her bloodstream but all Void felt was a sort of numbness thanks to her healing factor. She gave the doctor a thumbs up and the operation began.
The scalpel bit into the inked square and sliced away, the path of fur being cut out and tossed away. Void bit her lip as the tracker came into view, finally looking at the square of tiny circuits and wires that controlled her. "This it?" The doc asked. "That's the fucker." She confirmed. "Just grab it and pull it out." A pair of needlenose pliers gripped a wire and pulled, the killswitch being pulled away from the palette of cartilage like a piece of tape from a wall. "Done." The chop doc said, dropping it to the floor. "Bandage that before you get dressed again."
As soon as he left Void let loose a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. It was over, she was free. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted, BE who she wanted. Lovos didn't control her anymore. What she did next was entirely up to her.
And what she did next was lazily bandage herself and root through her bag to take out a half finished bottle of whiskey, a crumple pack of cigarettes and an unopened bar of chocolate. She was going to come after Lovos sooner or later but for the time being she just wanted to relax before figuring out her game plan.
Song: Got a song you like? (optional)
The following is a report on the escaped bioweapon CZ-18B3, better known as Callsign: Void. It had been leased out to the mercenary company McCulloch Security a tracker and breacher, but escaped containment the day before she was due to be shipped back to our care. CZ-18B3 is an incredibly powerful tool and is worth a great expense to recover, but will not go quietly. If it's ever found again.
McCulloch Security provided the following transcript of an interview of Void done by her McCulloch assigned handler a day before her escape.
IDENTITY?
"My call sign is Void."
WHAT WAS YOUR NAME BEFORE YOU WERE ACTIVATED?
"....I don't know."
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
"I have been operational for two (2) standard years after you rented me."
WHAT IS YOUR AGE?
"...I have been oper-"
HOW MANY YEARS HAVE YOU BEEN CONSCIOUS TOTAL?
"I can't answer that. All memories before my reactivation are blocked from me."
WHAT ARE YOU?
"...My call sign is Void."
WHAT SPECIES ARE YOU?
At this point Void became audibly agitated and readings showed heightened aggression and anxiety.
"Why do you people keep asking stupid questions? You know what I am! I am nothing but a weapon, a loaded gun Lovos sells to fuckers like you so you can point at targets and make me slaughter them! "
VOID, CALM DOWN.
"How can you expect me to be calm? Whatever I was, whatever life I had however long ago, those bastards stole it and made me a monster and now all I am to anyone is property!"
CZ-18B3, CALM DOWN OR YOU WILL DEACTIVATED.
According to the transcript Void refused to speak anymore.
Name: The bioweapon is designated CZ-18B3 but uses the callsign "Void". It has also been known to use other pseudonyms in the field.
Age: The unit 39 years of age.
Race: Lupine Terran
Genetics: Psionics and cybernetics enhanced genetic bioweapon.
Appearance: Void was designed so that on the outside it would appear as nothing more than a Canis Lupus Columbianus Terranus (Terran British Columbian Wolf.) Biologically female, Void stands at 1.8 meters tall (6 feet, two inches) and is covered by a layer of black fur that stand in contrast to a pair of cold blue eyes. Void is well-built with a visible six pack and powerful muscles in its arms and legs. Scars trace crisscross through the fur on it's back, wounds sustained from a grenade on her previous assignment.
When not in the field Void is noted to prefer a black synth-leather jacket and jeans, with a pair of aviators depending on the level of light. Note: Prefer doesn't mean wears exclusively. Void knows that it's being looked for, it's likely that she has by now acquired other outfits. In combat Void wears a suit Mk. 4X Scout Armor that enhances her already augmented senses and is equipped with air filters, communication equipment, water purifiers, and other various survival equipment.
-------------------------
Important items: Void is licensed to pilot Stryfe-class fighters so there's a good chance it used one to make her escape.
Weapons: 1. Chimera Automatic Assault Energy Weapon:The AAEW is a close range to mid range versatile weapon that is equally suited to clearing crowds or dealing with single targets with two rates of fire. The first is fully automatic, blasts of green plasma being spat from the rotating barrels and split into individual splashes, like the pellets of a shotgun. The second mode is a charge shot that can melt through armor and flesh and even do minor damage to the hulls of ships.
2. Eminence Royal Armory Co. Huntsman Rifle: The Huntsman Scout Rifle (Figure 5 in the attached image) was orignally inteded as a ceremony or display peace, but is still nontheless a solidly functioning railgun. Void's enhanced eyesight allow her to make use of it from extreme ranges without the help of a scope.
3. Warfighter 23: Mass produced and well loved, the Warfighter serves as Void's backup weapon and tool for close in assassinations.
4. Wrist Ports: Void is equipped with payload launchers in her wrist that can cycle between varroius grenade types, monofilament nets, grappling hooks, jets of fire and even blasts of blinding acid.
5. Claws: Void's original claws have been replaced nanocarbon cutting implements that can be coated with a thin film of energy to slice steel.
Physical Abilities:1. Speed and Reflexes: The natural dexterity of a predator has been improved with genetically enhanced muscles and mind. Void is capable of holding her own in unarmed or melee combat with multiple foes and is nigh impossible to outrun.
2. Hardened Shell: Under the outer layer skin Void has a secondary shell of hardened cartilage and sinew that serves as a secondary defense against damage. It's not enough to stop a bullet by completely stop a bullet by itself, but can be a lifesaver when combined with armor.
3. Senses: Void call call upon a HUD display that overlays on top of her field of view, keeping track of ammo, targets in view, weather conditions and even show a list of objectives. It can see in thermal and infrared vision and can zoom in up to to ten times. It's capable of tracking targets by smell only, and can focus to be able to pick up the sound of heartbeats.
4. Healing: The weapon has a minor healing factor, able to recover from burns and lacerations in a few hours. But for serious or life threatening wounds it needs to consume fresh heart muscle. Humanoid works best but animal hearts will do in a pinch. The freshly oxygenated blood and cardiovascular tissue is quickly burnt and put to work repairing punctured organs, replenish lost blood and knitting back together shattered bones.
Psionic Powers:1. Warp: Void is able blink in and out of existence at will, appearing in different locations in seconds. Short jumps are of little consequence, but doing long or repeated trips will leave it lightheaded, dizzy, feeling sick and even passing out in extreme circumstances.
-------------------------
Personality: Under normal circumstances Void is noted to be cordial and calm, if a bit quiet. It's capable of forming strong bond of friendship or respect as well holding grudges, something demonstrated by it's treatment of the McCulloch security forces, but is programmed to always put it's own survival first. Void is biologically female and refers to itself as such and has shown attraction to both genders but it's doubtful that romantic encounters are at the top of its list of priorities. Most likely it's focused on evading capture and uncovering details of its past missions and who it was before being converted by the Bioweapons Divison.
In the field the weapon is skilled at tracking targets and dealing with hostile terrain, having specialized in dropping into the field from high altitude or low orbit and trailing quarry before taking them out. It has a preference for close quarters combat but is more than capable of engaging targets from long range if need be.
As a side note, Void is attracted to all manner of vices. Drinking, smoking, overeating, excessive sugar intake, even casual narcotics usage. This is believed to be a sort of stress relief for the bioweapon, one it can indulge in far past the limits of a normal person thanks to it's healing factor. It's not unheard of for it to go through five packs of cigarettes in a day or four cases of beer in under an hour.
Background: In it's past life Void was Security Officer Emmi "Pathfinder" Kaone, a specialist in catching industrial spies and informants for Lovos. She had joined the company at the age of 18, intending to work through college. The Terran showed a natural affinity for combat and tracking and ended up dropping out of school when offered a six figure pay check to go through Lovos's selective specialization courses. She received training in small arms, tracking, counter-espionage, first aid and surveillance and was assigned to a recovery team at the age of 21. Within a year she was leading it, stealing back secrets from rival companies and silencing sources of leaks and particularly dangerous trade rivals.
At 25 it all went wrong. A routine surveillance job turned violent when the target pulled his weapon. A shootout ensued and local law enforcement got involved. By the end of it the target, four members of law enforcement, and two Lavos personal were dead. Of the survivors, Kaone was in critical condition and her partner was later captured and sentenced to a life sentence of hard labor. When her superiors heard about the debacle they quietly arranged for her to released from custody once her condition was stabilized for use in the company's burgeoning bioweapons project.
Over the course of three years Emmi was transformed and replaced by Void, her body hardened and implanted with weapons and enhancements. Memories of her old life were suppressed and replaced with the ability to harness the power of the mind to tear holes in the field of gestalt energy that made up the universe and travel through them. It was a long, costly, and for the subject, painful process but was no doubt worth it. The end result was a unit that could live and serve for centuries assuming it avoided violent death, a lethal hunter with the ability to heal itself using it's enemies remains. All that was needed was a way to field test it.
To accomplish this and recoup some of the money spent in it's creation the unit was rented out to various people and organizations, serving across all manner of terrain for mercenaries, armies, insurgent groups and even crime syndicates looking for a way to eliminate enemies. To keep track of it's whereabouts Unit CZ-18B3 was implanted with a tracker and kill switch and was informed of the consequences of trying to flee. So it served begrudgingly and obediently.
Until a year ago. Void was contracted out to a platoon of McCulloch Security on the asteroid mining colony of Wanderer's Refuge. McCulloch had been tasked with suppressing the miner's riots and Void was being used to eliminate leaders of the uprising. The violence reached a fever pitch and the colony was in open revolt, and communications were cut for about a week. When contact was reestablished the division didn't respond to any attempts to reach them. When teams were sent to investigate the found the entire platoon dead and Void missing. There was no sign of forced entry and the only thing taken was the unit itself and it's equipment. It had stolen itself.
The kill switch was engaged and it's signal tracked to a dingy room in a filthy traveler's hostel on a nearby hub planet but all the recovery team found was the tracker wrapped in a bloodstained napkin and tossed under the bed. It's believed that Void stole or stowed away on a ship fleeing the violence in Wanderer's Refuge and had a underground surgeon remove the device. It's also expected that it will come looking for answers, sooner or later.
Roleplay Sample: The last thing Void could clearly remember was handing over a pile of stolen credits to the street surgeon she had managed to find and discretely palming the scrap of paper with the address of the operating room they were scheduled to meet in. After that it was all just a blur of blending in crowds and sinking back into the shadows, running from shady corner to back alley and eventually holing up in a scrapyard for the night under the rusted hulk of a trashed ship. Every face in the hordes of refugees looked like a agent of Lovos, all the men hanging on street corners spies tracking her. Was communication on Wanderer's Refuge still down? Oh god she hoped it was. Every moment that passed was another moment closer to her escape being discovered and the killswitch being activated.
The bioweapon closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that the next time she woke up it could be back in the labs. Or she might just never wake up at all. With that comforting thought Void drifted off to oblivion, wrapped up in a sheet of insulating foam torn from the abandoned hulk above her.
She was up before dawn, drifting back through the alleys and shaded corners before taking a detour into the sewer system, convinced that the woman taking her early morning stroll was tailing her. The Terran emergered back into the light three streets over, right in front of the hostel. The run down building was open for business judging by the lights on inside so she could just stroll right in. But that was stupid. She needed to minimize the amount of people who saw her. Luckily there was a second option. The room she was looking for was the "penthouse", which in this case meant it had a small concrete balcony with a couple of dead plants sitting on the ledge.
She untied her boots and laced them together, hanging them around her neck as she sidled up to the dreary grey wall. No one was around at the moment, now was the time to get this done. Void pressed her hands into the concrete structure and began to climb, scrambling for quickly up the building by using the claws on her hands and feet for purchase. Within a couple minutes she was at the top, pulling herself up and over the balcony and slipping inside the apartment. The doctor wasn't there yet but that was fine. She could be productive while waited.
Void stripped off her pants and dug around the room for material, finding a discarded pen and breaking it to get access to the red ink. She marked a square roughly an inch in width and length on her inner thigh and sat down to wait, ears flat against her head. When the street surgeon arrived they didn't bother to exchange greetings, Void simply allowing him to set his stuff down and inject her with anesthesia.
Or at least let him try. The armored carapace under her skin was too tough to be pierced by the needle, the chop doc spending minutes trying with his pockmarked brow wrinkled in confusion. "Lady, what's your fur made of?" I'm not going to be able to cut through this shit!" He said annoyance. "It's not the fur, it's a-" Void cut herself there. He didn't need to know the details. Instead she just took the syringe and pricked herself in one of the few unarmored spots on her body, sinking it into the crook of her elbow and depressing the plunger. 5 milligrams of sedative potent enough to tranquilizer a horse flowed into her bloodstream but all Void felt was a sort of numbness thanks to her healing factor. She gave the doctor a thumbs up and the operation began.
The scalpel bit into the inked square and sliced away, the path of fur being cut out and tossed away. Void bit her lip as the tracker came into view, finally looking at the square of tiny circuits and wires that controlled her. "This it?" The doc asked. "That's the fucker." She confirmed. "Just grab it and pull it out." A pair of needlenose pliers gripped a wire and pulled, the killswitch being pulled away from the palette of cartilage like a piece of tape from a wall. "Done." The chop doc said, dropping it to the floor. "Bandage that before you get dressed again."
As soon as he left Void let loose a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. It was over, she was free. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted, BE who she wanted. Lovos didn't control her anymore. What she did next was entirely up to her.
And what she did next was lazily bandage herself and root through her bag to take out a half finished bottle of whiskey, a crumple pack of cigarettes and an unopened bar of chocolate. She was going to come after Lovos sooner or later but for the time being she just wanted to relax before figuring out her game plan.
Song: Got a song you like? (optional)
Lovos Armaments: Rugged, Reliable, Relentless
The following is a report on the escaped bioweapon CZ-18B3, better known as Callsign: Void. It had been leased out to the mercenary company McCulloch Security a tracker and breacher, but escaped containment the day before she was due to be shipped back to our care. CZ-18B3 is an incredibly powerful tool and is worth a great expense to recover, but will not go quietly. If it's ever found again.
McCulloch Security provided the following transcript of an interview of Void done by her McCulloch assigned handler a day before her escape.
IDENTITY?
"My call sign is Void."
WHAT WAS YOUR NAME BEFORE YOU WERE ACTIVATED?
"....I don't know."
Age: HOW OLD ARE YOU?
"I have been operational for two (2) standard years after you rented me."
WHAT IS YOUR AGE?
"...I have been oper-"
HOW MANY YEARS HAVE YOU BEEN CONSCIOUS TOTAL?
"I can't answer that. All memories before my reactivation are blocked from me."
Race: WHAT ARE YOU?
"...My call sign is Void."
WHAT SPECIES ARE YOU?
At this point Void became audibly agitated and readings showed heightened aggression and anxiety.
"Why do you people keep asking stupid questions? You know what I am! I am nothing but a weapon, a loaded gun Lovos sells to fuckers like you so you can point at targets and make me slaughter them! "
VOID, CALM DOWN.
"How can you expect me to be calm? Whatever I was, whatever life I had however long ago, those bastards stole it and made me a monster and now all I am to anyone is property!"
CZ-18B3, CALM DOWN OR YOU WILL DEACTIVATED.
According to the transcript Void refused to speak anymore.
Name: The bioweapon is designated CZ-18B3 but uses the callsign "Void". It has also been known to use other pseudonyms in the field.
Age: The unit 39 years of age.
Race: Lupine Terran
Genetics: Psionics and cybernetics enhanced genetic bioweapon.
Appearance: Void was designed so that on the outside it would appear as nothing more than a Canis Lupus Columbianus Terranus (Terran British Columbian Wolf.) Biologically female, Void stands at 1.8 meters tall (6 feet, two inches) and is covered by a layer of black fur that stand in contrast to a pair of cold blue eyes. Void is well-built with a visible six pack and powerful muscles in its arms and legs. Scars trace crisscross through the fur on it's back, wounds sustained from a grenade on her previous assignment.
When not in the field Void is noted to prefer a black synth-leather jacket and jeans, with a pair of aviators depending on the level of light. Note: Prefer doesn't mean wears exclusively. Void knows that it's being looked for, it's likely that she has by now acquired other outfits. In combat Void wears a suit Mk. 4X Scout Armor that enhances her already augmented senses and is equipped with air filters, communication equipment, water purifiers, and other various survival equipment.
-------------------------
Important items: Void is licensed to pilot Stryfe-class fighters so there's a good chance it used one to make her escape.
Weapons: 1. Chimera Automatic Assault Energy Weapon:The AAEW is a close range to mid range versatile weapon that is equally suited to clearing crowds or dealing with single targets with two rates of fire. The first is fully automatic, blasts of green plasma being spat from the rotating barrels and split into individual splashes, like the pellets of a shotgun. The second mode is a charge shot that can melt through armor and flesh and even do minor damage to the hulls of ships.
2. Eminence Royal Armory Co. Huntsman Rifle: The Huntsman Scout Rifle (Figure 5 in the attached image) was orignally inteded as a ceremony or display peace, but is still nontheless a solidly functioning railgun. Void's enhanced eyesight allow her to make use of it from extreme ranges without the help of a scope.
3. Warfighter 23: Mass produced and well loved, the Warfighter serves as Void's backup weapon and tool for close in assassinations.
4. Wrist Ports: Void is equipped with payload launchers in her wrist that can cycle between varroius grenade types, monofilament nets, grappling hooks, jets of fire and even blasts of blinding acid.
5. Claws: Void's original claws have been replaced nanocarbon cutting implements that can be coated with a thin film of energy to slice steel.
Physical Abilities:1. Speed and Reflexes: The natural dexterity of a predator has been improved with genetically enhanced muscles and mind. Void is capable of holding her own in unarmed or melee combat with multiple foes and is nigh impossible to outrun.
2. Hardened Shell: Under the outer layer skin Void has a secondary shell of hardened cartilage and sinew that serves as a secondary defense against damage. It's not enough to stop a bullet by completely stop a bullet by itself, but can be a lifesaver when combined with armor.
3. Senses: Void call call upon a HUD display that overlays on top of her field of view, keeping track of ammo, targets in view, weather conditions and even show a list of objectives. It can see in thermal and infrared vision and can zoom in up to to ten times. It's capable of tracking targets by smell only, and can focus to be able to pick up the sound of heartbeats.
4. Healing: The weapon has a minor healing factor, able to recover from burns and lacerations in a few hours. But for serious or life threatening wounds it needs to consume fresh heart muscle. Humanoid works best but animal hearts will do in a pinch. The freshly oxygenated blood and cardiovascular tissue is quickly burnt and put to work repairing punctured organs, replenish lost blood and knitting back together shattered bones.
Psionic Powers:1. Warp: Void is able blink in and out of existence at will, appearing in different locations in seconds. Short jumps are of little consequence, but doing long or repeated trips will leave it lightheaded, dizzy, feeling sick and even passing out in extreme circumstances.
-------------------------
Personality: Under normal circumstances Void is noted to be cordial and calm, if a bit quiet. It's capable of forming strong bond of friendship or respect as well holding grudges, something demonstrated by it's treatment of the McCulloch security forces, but is programmed to always put it's own survival first. Void is biologically female and refers to itself as such and has shown attraction to both genders but it's doubtful that romantic encounters are at the top of its list of priorities. Most likely it's focused on evading capture and uncovering details of its past missions and who it was before being converted by the Bioweapons Divison.
In the field the weapon is skilled at tracking targets and dealing with hostile terrain, having specialized in dropping into the field from high altitude or low orbit and trailing quarry before taking them out. It has a preference for close quarters combat but is more than capable of engaging targets from long range if need be.
As a side note, Void is attracted to all manner of vices. Drinking, smoking, overeating, excessive sugar intake, even casual narcotics usage. This is believed to be a sort of stress relief for the bioweapon, one it can indulge in far past the limits of a normal person thanks to it's healing factor. It's not unheard of for it to go through five packs of cigarettes in a day or four cases of beer in under an hour.
Background: In it's past life Void was Security Officer Emmi "Pathfinder" Kaone, a specialist in catching industrial spies and informants for Lovos. She had joined the company at the age of 18, intending to work through college. The Terran showed a natural affinity for combat and tracking and ended up dropping out of school when offered a six figure pay check to go through Lovos's selective specialization courses. She received training in small arms, tracking, counter-espionage, first aid and surveillance and was assigned to a recovery team at the age of 21. Within a year she was leading it, stealing back secrets from rival companies and silencing sources of leaks and particularly dangerous trade rivals.
At 25 it all went wrong. A routine surveillance job turned violent when the target pulled his weapon. A shootout ensued and local law enforcement got involved. By the end of it the target, four members of law enforcement, and two Lavos personal were dead. Of the survivors, Kaone was in critical condition and her partner was later captured and sentenced to a life sentence of hard labor. When her superiors heard about the debacle they quietly arranged for her to released from custody once her condition was stabilized for use in the company's burgeoning bioweapons project.
Over the course of three years Emmi was transformed and replaced by Void, her body hardened and implanted with weapons and enhancements. Memories of her old life were suppressed and replaced with the ability to harness the power of the mind to tear holes in the field of gestalt energy that made up the universe and travel through them. It was a long, costly, and for the subject, painful process but was no doubt worth it. The end result was a unit that could live and serve for centuries assuming it avoided violent death, a lethal hunter with the ability to heal itself using it's enemies remains. All that was needed was a way to field test it.
To accomplish this and recoup some of the money spent in it's creation the unit was rented out to various people and organizations, serving across all manner of terrain for mercenaries, armies, insurgent groups and even crime syndicates looking for a way to eliminate enemies. To keep track of it's whereabouts Unit CZ-18B3 was implanted with a tracker and kill switch and was informed of the consequences of trying to flee. So it served begrudgingly and obediently.
Until a year ago. Void was contracted out to a platoon of McCulloch Security on the asteroid mining colony of Wanderer's Refuge. McCulloch had been tasked with suppressing the miner's riots and Void was being used to eliminate leaders of the uprising. The violence reached a fever pitch and the colony was in open revolt, and communications were cut for about a week. When contact was reestablished the division didn't respond to any attempts to reach them. When teams were sent to investigate the found the entire platoon dead and Void missing. There was no sign of forced entry and the only thing taken was the unit itself and it's equipment. It had stolen itself.
The kill switch was engaged and it's signal tracked to a dingy room in a filthy traveler's hostel on a nearby hub planet but all the recovery team found was the tracker wrapped in a bloodstained napkin and tossed under the bed. It's believed that Void stole or stowed away on a ship fleeing the violence in Wanderer's Refuge and had a underground surgeon remove the device. It's also expected that it will come looking for answers, sooner or later.
Roleplay Sample: The last thing Void could clearly remember was handing over a pile of stolen credits to the street surgeon she had managed to find and discretely palming the scrap of paper with the address of the operating room they were scheduled to meet in. After that it was all just a blur of blending in crowds and sinking back into the shadows, running from shady corner to back alley and eventually holing up in a scrapyard for the night under the rusted hulk of a trashed ship. Every face in the hordes of refugees looked like a agent of Lovos, all the men hanging on street corners spies tracking her. Was communication on Wanderer's Refuge still down? Oh god she hoped it was. Every moment that passed was another moment closer to her escape being discovered and the killswitch being activated.
The bioweapon closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that the next time she woke up it could be back in the labs. Or she might just never wake up at all. With that comforting thought Void drifted off to oblivion, wrapped up in a sheet of insulating foam torn from the abandoned hulk above her.
She was up before dawn, drifting back through the alleys and shaded corners before taking a detour into the sewer system, convinced that the woman taking her early morning stroll was tailing her. The Terran emergered back into the light three streets over, right in front of the hostel. The run down building was open for business judging by the lights on inside so she could just stroll right in. But that was stupid. She needed to minimize the amount of people who saw her. Luckily there was a second option. The room she was looking for was the "penthouse", which in this case meant it had a small concrete balcony with a couple of dead plants sitting on the ledge.
She untied her boots and laced them together, hanging them around her neck as she sidled up to the dreary grey wall. No one was around at the moment, now was the time to get this done. Void pressed her hands into the concrete structure and began to climb, scrambling for quickly up the building by using the claws on her hands and feet for purchase. Within a couple minutes she was at the top, pulling herself up and over the balcony and slipping inside the apartment. The doctor wasn't there yet but that was fine. She could be productive while waited.
Void stripped off her pants and dug around the room for material, finding a discarded pen and breaking it to get access to the red ink. She marked a square roughly an inch in width and length on her inner thigh and sat down to wait, ears flat against her head. When the street surgeon arrived they didn't bother to exchange greetings, Void simply allowing him to set his stuff down and inject her with anesthesia.
Or at least let him try. The armored carapace under her skin was too tough to be pierced by the needle, the chop doc spending minutes trying with his pockmarked brow wrinkled in confusion. "Lady, what's your fur made of?" I'm not going to be able to cut through this shit!" He said annoyance. "It's not the fur, it's a-" Void cut herself there. He didn't need to know the details. Instead she just took the syringe and pricked herself in one of the few unarmored spots on her body, sinking it into the crook of her elbow and depressing the plunger. 5 milligrams of sedative potent enough to tranquilizer a horse flowed into her bloodstream but all Void felt was a sort of numbness thanks to her healing factor. She gave the doctor a thumbs up and the operation began.
The scalpel bit into the inked square and sliced away, the path of fur being cut out and tossed away. Void bit her lip as the tracker came into view, finally looking at the square of tiny circuits and wires that controlled her. "This it?" The doc asked. "That's the fucker." She confirmed. "Just grab it and pull it out." A pair of needlenose pliers gripped a wire and pulled, the killswitch being pulled away from the palette of cartilage like a piece of tape from a wall. "Done." The chop doc said, dropping it to the floor. "Bandage that before you get dressed again."
As soon as he left Void let loose a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. It was over, she was free. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted, BE who she wanted. Lovos didn't control her anymore. What she did next was entirely up to her.
And what she did next was lazily bandage herself and root through her bag to take out a half finished bottle of whiskey, a crumple pack of cigarettes and an unopened bar of chocolate. She was going to come after Lovos sooner or later but for the time being she just wanted to relax before figuring out her game plan.
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The following is a report on the escaped bioweapon CZ-18B3, better known as Callsign: Void. It had been leased out to the mercenary company McCulloch Security a tracker and breacher, but escaped containment the day before she was due to be shipped back to our care. CZ-18B3 is an incredibly powerful tool and is worth a great expense to recover, but will not go quietly. If it's ever found again.
McCulloch Security provided the following transcript of an interview of Void done by her McCulloch assigned handler a day before her escape.
IDENTITY?
"My call sign is Void."
WHAT WAS YOUR NAME BEFORE YOU WERE ACTIVATED?
"....I don't know."
Age: HOW OLD ARE YOU?
"I have been operational for two (2) standard years after you rented me."
WHAT IS YOUR AGE?
"...I have been oper-"
HOW MANY YEARS HAVE YOU BEEN CONSCIOUS TOTAL?
"I can't answer that. All memories before my reactivation are blocked from me."
Race: WHAT ARE YOU?
"...My call sign is Void."
WHAT SPECIES ARE YOU?
At this point Void became audibly agitated and readings showed heightened aggression and anxiety.
"Why do you people keep asking stupid questions? You know what I am! I am nothing but a weapon, a loaded gun Lovos sells to fuckers like you so you can point at targets and make me slaughter them! "
VOID, CALM DOWN.
"How can you expect me to be calm? Whatever I was, whatever life I had however long ago, those bastards stole it and made me a monster and now all I am to anyone is property!"
CZ-18B3, CALM DOWN OR YOU WILL DEACTIVATED.
According to the transcript Void refused to speak anymore.
Name: The bioweapon is designated CZ-18B3 but uses the callsign "Void". It has also been known to use other pseudonyms in the field.
Age: The unit 39 years of age.
Race: Lupine Terran
Genetics: Psionics and cybernetics enhanced genetic bioweapon.
Appearance: Void was designed so that on the outside it would appear as nothing more than a Canis Lupus Columbianus Terranus (Terran British Columbian Wolf.) Biologically female, Void stands at 1.8 meters tall (6 feet, two inches) and is covered by a layer of black fur that stand in contrast to a pair of cold blue eyes. Void is well-built with a visible six pack and powerful muscles in its arms and legs. Scars trace crisscross through the fur on it's back, wounds sustained from a grenade on her previous assignment.
When not in the field Void is noted to prefer a black synth-leather jacket and jeans, with a pair of aviators depending on the level of light. Note: Prefer doesn't mean wears exclusively. Void knows that it's being looked for, it's likely that she has by now acquired other outfits. In combat Void wears a suit Mk. 4X Scout Armor that enhances her already augmented senses and is equipped with air filters, communication equipment, water purifiers, and other various survival equipment.
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Important items: Void is licensed to pilot Stryfe-class fighters so there's a good chance it used one to make her escape.
Weapons: 1. Chimera Automatic Assault Energy Weapon:The AAEW is a close range to mid range versatile weapon that is equally suited to clearing crowds or dealing with single targets with two rates of fire. The first is fully automatic, blasts of green plasma being spat from the rotating barrels and split into individual splashes, like the pellets of a shotgun. The second mode is a charge shot that can melt through armor and flesh and even do minor damage to the hulls of ships.
2. Eminence Royal Armory Co. Huntsman Rifle: The Huntsman Scout Rifle (Figure 5 in the attached image) was orignally inteded as a ceremony or display peace, but is still nontheless a solidly functioning railgun. Void's enhanced eyesight allow her to make use of it from extreme ranges without the help of a scope.
3. Warfighter 23: Mass produced and well loved, the Warfighter serves as Void's backup weapon and tool for close in assassinations.
4. Wrist Ports: Void is equipped with payload launchers in her wrist that can cycle between varroius grenade types, monofilament nets, grappling hooks, jets of fire and even blasts of blinding acid.
5. Claws: Void's original claws have been replaced nanocarbon cutting implements that can be coated with a thin film of energy to slice steel.
Physical Abilities:1. Speed and Reflexes: The natural dexterity of a predator has been improved with genetically enhanced muscles and mind. Void is capable of holding her own in unarmed or melee combat with multiple foes and is nigh impossible to outrun.
2. Hardened Shell: Under the outer layer skin Void has a secondary shell of hardened cartilage and sinew that serves as a secondary defense against damage. It's not enough to stop a bullet by completely stop a bullet by itself, but can be a lifesaver when combined with armor.
3. Senses: Void call call upon a HUD display that overlays on top of her field of view, keeping track of ammo, targets in view, weather conditions and even show a list of objectives. It can see in thermal and infrared vision and can zoom in up to to ten times. It's capable of tracking targets by smell only, and can focus to be able to pick up the sound of heartbeats.
4. Healing: The weapon has a minor healing factor, able to recover from burns and lacerations in a few hours. But for serious or life threatening wounds it needs to consume fresh heart muscle. Humanoid works best but animal hearts will do in a pinch. The freshly oxygenated blood and cardiovascular tissue is quickly burnt and put to work repairing punctured organs, replenish lost blood and knitting back together shattered bones.
Psionic Powers:1. Warp: Void is able blink in and out of existence at will, appearing in different locations in seconds. Short jumps are of little consequence, but doing long or repeated trips will leave it lightheaded, dizzy, feeling sick and even passing out in extreme circumstances.
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Personality: Under normal circumstances Void is noted to be cordial and calm, if a bit quiet. It's capable of forming strong bond of friendship or respect as well holding grudges, something demonstrated by it's treatment of the McCulloch security forces, but is programmed to always put it's own survival first. Void is biologically female and refers to itself as such and has shown attraction to both genders but it's doubtful that romantic encounters are at the top of its list of priorities. Most likely it's focused on evading capture and uncovering details of its past missions and who it was before being converted by the Bioweapons Divison.
In the field the weapon is skilled at tracking targets and dealing with hostile terrain, having specialized in dropping into the field from high altitude or low orbit and trailing quarry before taking them out. It has a preference for close quarters combat but is more than capable of engaging targets from long range if need be.
As a side note, Void is attracted to all manner of vices. Drinking, smoking, overeating, excessive sugar intake, even casual narcotics usage. This is believed to be a sort of stress relief for the bioweapon, one it can indulge in far past the limits of a normal person thanks to it's healing factor. It's not unheard of for it to go through five packs of cigarettes in a day or four cases of beer in under an hour.
Background: In it's past life Void was Security Officer Emmi "Pathfinder" Kaone, a specialist in catching industrial spies and informants for Lovos. She had joined the company at the age of 18, intending to work through college. The Terran showed a natural affinity for combat and tracking and ended up dropping out of school when offered a six figure pay check to go through Lovos's selective specialization courses. She received training in small arms, tracking, counter-espionage, first aid and surveillance and was assigned to a recovery team at the age of 21. Within a year she was leading it, stealing back secrets from rival companies and silencing sources of leaks and particularly dangerous trade rivals.
At 25 it all went wrong. A routine surveillance job turned violent when the target pulled his weapon. A shootout ensued and local law enforcement got involved. By the end of it the target, four members of law enforcement, and two Lavos personal were dead. Of the survivors, Kaone was in critical condition and her partner was later captured and sentenced to a life sentence of hard labor. When her superiors heard about the debacle they quietly arranged for her to released from custody once her condition was stabilized for use in the company's burgeoning bioweapons project.
Over the course of three years Emmi was transformed and replaced by Void, her body hardened and implanted with weapons and enhancements. Memories of her old life were suppressed and replaced with the ability to harness the power of the mind to tear holes in the field of gestalt energy that made up the universe and travel through them. It was a long, costly, and for the subject, painful process but was no doubt worth it. The end result was a unit that could live and serve for centuries assuming it avoided violent death, a lethal hunter with the ability to heal itself using it's enemies remains. All that was needed was a way to field test it.
To accomplish this and recoup some of the money spent in it's creation the unit was rented out to various people and organizations, serving across all manner of terrain for mercenaries, armies, insurgent groups and even crime syndicates looking for a way to eliminate enemies. To keep track of it's whereabouts Unit CZ-18B3 was implanted with a tracker and kill switch and was informed of the consequences of trying to flee. So it served begrudgingly and obediently.
Until a year ago. Void was contracted out to a platoon of McCulloch Security on the asteroid mining colony of Wanderer's Refuge. McCulloch had been tasked with suppressing the miner's riots and Void was being used to eliminate leaders of the uprising. The violence reached a fever pitch and the colony was in open revolt, and communications were cut for about a week. When contact was reestablished the division didn't respond to any attempts to reach them. When teams were sent to investigate the found the entire platoon dead and Void missing. There was no sign of forced entry and the only thing taken was the unit itself and it's equipment. It had stolen itself.
The kill switch was engaged and it's signal tracked to a dingy room in a filthy traveler's hostel on a nearby hub planet but all the recovery team found was the tracker wrapped in a bloodstained napkin and tossed under the bed. It's believed that Void stole or stowed away on a ship fleeing the violence in Wanderer's Refuge and had a underground surgeon remove the device. It's also expected that it will come looking for answers, sooner or later.
Roleplay Sample: The last thing Void could clearly remember was handing over a pile of stolen credits to the street surgeon she had managed to find and discretely palming the scrap of paper with the address of the operating room they were scheduled to meet in. After that it was all just a blur of blending in crowds and sinking back into the shadows, running from shady corner to back alley and eventually holing up in a scrapyard for the night under the rusted hulk of a trashed ship. Every face in the hordes of refugees looked like a agent of Lovos, all the men hanging on street corners spies tracking her. Was communication on Wanderer's Refuge still down? Oh god she hoped it was. Every moment that passed was another moment closer to her escape being discovered and the killswitch being activated.
The bioweapon closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that the next time she woke up it could be back in the labs. Or she might just never wake up at all. With that comforting thought Void drifted off to oblivion, wrapped up in a sheet of insulating foam torn from the abandoned hulk above her.
She was up before dawn, drifting back through the alleys and shaded corners before taking a detour into the sewer system, convinced that the woman taking her early morning stroll was tailing her. The Terran emergered back into the light three streets over, right in front of the hostel. The run down building was open for business judging by the lights on inside so she could just stroll right in. But that was stupid. She needed to minimize the amount of people who saw her. Luckily there was a second option. The room she was looking for was the "penthouse", which in this case meant it had a small concrete balcony with a couple of dead plants sitting on the ledge.
She untied her boots and laced them together, hanging them around her neck as she sidled up to the dreary grey wall. No one was around at the moment, now was the time to get this done. Void pressed her hands into the concrete structure and began to climb, scrambling for quickly up the building by using the claws on her hands and feet for purchase. Within a couple minutes she was at the top, pulling herself up and over the balcony and slipping inside the apartment. The doctor wasn't there yet but that was fine. She could be productive while waited.
Void stripped off her pants and dug around the room for material, finding a discarded pen and breaking it to get access to the red ink. She marked a square roughly an inch in width and length on her inner thigh and sat down to wait, ears flat against her head. When the street surgeon arrived they didn't bother to exchange greetings, Void simply allowing him to set his stuff down and inject her with anesthesia.
Or at least let him try. The armored carapace under her skin was too tough to be pierced by the needle, the chop doc spending minutes trying with his pockmarked brow wrinkled in confusion. "Lady, what's your fur made of?" I'm not going to be able to cut through this shit!" He said annoyance. "It's not the fur, it's a-" Void cut herself there. He didn't need to know the details. Instead she just took the syringe and pricked herself in one of the few unarmored spots on her body, sinking it into the crook of her elbow and depressing the plunger. 5 milligrams of sedative potent enough to tranquilizer a horse flowed into her bloodstream but all Void felt was a sort of numbness thanks to her healing factor. She gave the doctor a thumbs up and the operation began.
The scalpel bit into the inked square and sliced away, the path of fur being cut out and tossed away. Void bit her lip as the tracker came into view, finally looking at the square of tiny circuits and wires that controlled her. "This it?" The doc asked. "That's the fucker." She confirmed. "Just grab it and pull it out." A pair of needlenose pliers gripped a wire and pulled, the killswitch being pulled away from the palette of cartilage like a piece of tape from a wall. "Done." The chop doc said, dropping it to the floor. "Bandage that before you get dressed again."
As soon as he left Void let loose a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. It was over, she was free. She could go where she wanted, do what she wanted, BE who she wanted. Lovos didn't control her anymore. What she did next was entirely up to her.
And what she did next was lazily bandage herself and root through her bag to take out a half finished bottle of whiskey, a crumple pack of cigarettes and an unopened bar of chocolate. She was going to come after Lovos sooner or later but for the time being she just wanted to relax before figuring out her game plan.
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Tentative tag for interest assuming it’s still open! What sorta roles are we missing?
(Also, Thanks @The Jest)
(Also, Thanks @The Jest)
Kiááyo Tatanka
This was not how her triumphant return was supposed to go. When The Woman With Two Names set out for the Old World with a ticking biological clock hanging over her head like an ax and the intent to return with an army, she hadn't expected her return home to be marred by violent storms. Long stretches of boredom? Seemed likely. Battles against rival seadogs? Sure. Yellow fever and scurvy? With her near-comically weak constitution it would almost be a miracle if she didn't catch something. But storms had somehow slipped her mind. it was stupid of her, of course. Unlike her crew-mates Kiááyo had grown up taking cover from shards of hail and freezing gales churned into a frenzy of whips so cold they burned by some hateful god or spirit of ice. She should have been expecting this.
Maybe it was because she had been so focused on what was new she had neglected to think of her past. There was likely a message in that, a moral to take to heart and keep hold of for the remainder of her likely short life. But the call for all hands left no time or room for such heady self-reflection. The Cotsch had swaddled herself in the heavy bearskin ostensibly earmarked for special occasions but serving as little more than a way to preserve body heat and ran out from the cramped and musty antechamber to the underworld that was the below decks and out into a violent blizzard that coated ship in snow and shrouded the sea in white. It was cold enough freeze the blood in her body, gales strong enough to blast her from the ship into the bottomless depths of the ocean. It was so inhospitable that Nature itself could easily kill a person in minutes and hide their frozen corpse under a snowdrift to be found later by some hungry animal.
It was home.
"Welcome to the fucking New World! she shouted over the ice storm at Charlotte in response to to her indignation. "This happens here." The native-born woman wore a sardonic smile as she spoke, laying her accent on just a bit thicker than it was naturally to play up her persona as the rough tribeswoman. The thunder of cannons jostled her bones, shaking back into the mind of the sickly little girl who watched her father practice with his guns. How wondrous they seemed! Barrels of cast iron loaded powder and shot, capable of shredding ships and tearing men in half. They were the future, her people could not cling on to their swords and bows and expect to last against the invaders.
The enemy's store of powder went up in a violent maelstrom of flaming wood and smoking steel, a glorious celebration of the power of modern weaponry. The Royal crewmen were now nothing more than sacrificial lambs slaughtered at the alter of Ca'tek, her people's god of war and bloodshed. A good victory, but a short lived one.A dry chuckle had barely escaped her lips when the ship was reduced to timbers by a unyielding iceberg, an impenetrable wall placed there by Yiama, mother of the sea. Clearly she was upset with them for one reason or another. Maybe Kiááyo was being punished for abandoning her homeland and people, and her crew were simply caught in the crossfire.
The reason didn't matter to her, what mattered was getting herself back below deck before she could be thrown from the deck. The markswoman managed to throw her body down the stairs in the darkness, managing to find her bunk in the dim light of the lanterns and holding on for dear life. The timbers shrieked in agony and cracked, icy water spilling into the hold to douse the sources of light. Kiááyo was left in pitch blackness, all noise drowned out by the roar of the storm and the sound of shattering wood as she fought to keep from from being torn from her post and slammed into a wall. Fate had a cruel sense of humor it seemed. Her final moments weren't going to be spent cough up blackened blood as her body succumbed to the poison within, she would wondering whether she would freeze or drown first. The violent motions of the crumbling ship spun her thoughts into a sickening blur, Kiááyo resigning herself to her fate. Her mission had failed before it had even really begun.
So it was a pleasant surprise when she came to and realized that she wasn't dead yet. The half-breed was splayed out on a piece of flooring that had been torn loose in front of her bunk, gripping the now freed bed so tightly her knuckles were white. Considering she couldn't feel any head injury (her body was a different story, the bruises left from being slammed around the sinking ship would hurt for a while.)she hadn’t been knocked unconscious, just blacked out sometime during the madness and terror of being caught on a sinking ship. "Back to work then." she muttered, checking her weapons before standing up and taking stock of her surroundings. The ship was sinking, their food and wealth with it. They had lost crew and their means of transportation and were currently under attack. But at least her bags weren't lost sticking out of a snowdrift a hundred yards or so away, so they still had her Medicines. Her weapons were all on her and she had targets in range.
Things were better than they had any right to be.
One of her fellow survivors was calling for help, Kiááyo sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her through the snow, slipping and sliding all the way. She managed to fumble her way into cover next to Horus and Enzio, checking priming her musket and propping it on the rock. "And this is why we use guns" she explained in greeting, lining up her shot as enemy bullets ricocheted off the snow covered boulder and buried themselves in the piles around them. The trained shooter took a breath and held it, barrel hovering in front of a pirate hunter on the ridge. A pull of the trigger and her musket spat a cloud of smoke and ball of lead, the bullet tearing through skin bone and organs alike in it's path through the hunter's ribs and through his lungs. One down and more to go.
She didn't bother reloading, letting the long arm rest on the rocks and drawing her twin turnover pistols as began to line up new targets. Eight more bullets, eight more kills.
Think I got everything
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