RP: ISC Phoenix [Mission 3] - Rocking the Casbah

[Born-On-Board]

They'd probably abducted the girl precisely because she was small and adorable. And naive. More and more Red despised the Fruna Ruica.

"Buncha fucking deviants." Red said in vehemently hateful Yamatai-go."Almost glad pirates are knockin' over the fuckin' place."

He decided to start the struggle up again. His joints already hurt from being extended at such a strange angle. He wasn't even sure if he could complete what he'd had planned - it had been a long time since he'd made any pretense to fitness or flexibility.

He exhaled, making sure all the air was from his lungs, then he drew his legs as close to his chest as he could. His arms, tensing, stretching, making unholy use of muscle groups that haven't been strained in a while, slipped his bound hands past his ass fairly easily, his arms now in the crook of his knees. His back, compressed at an extreme angle, made several cathartic cracks.

Sweat ran into his eyes. He was breathing short, labored breaths. Every part he could feel ached. His fingers were purple from lack of circulation. His mouth had filled up with blood again, which he spat carelessly, spattering his clothes with bloody spittle.

He didn't need to be doing this. He needed a doctor. He needed to rest, to sleep, but while he was prisoner, no such thing was possible. Redrick Callahan could not abide being imprisoned by a fellow intelligent being - hated it, was scared of it. Would fight like a cornered animal to escape even the idea of it. He knew this could only end with either him or the pirates dead or incarcerated, and he vowed to be the one to blink last. He would not fail.

Now. To the job at hand. He cursed, a surprisingly foul word, and with a great, last effort swung his hands up from under his legs, pulling his hands to his chest and laying flat on his back in one, triumphant gesture. Redrick spent a minute or two doing his best impersonation of a beached whale, gulping air, letting all the aches and pains sing through his body, like some sort of masochist's afterglow.

He had to gauge Tamamo's willingness to get involved. A Nekovalkyrja was a deadly, dangerous opponent - given an appropriate opportunity, she could probably kill every pirate in this cargo bay without so much as blinking. But was she willing to get involved? He had to gauge that before he took his next steps - there'd be no going back once the zip-tie cuffs came off.

"You did good, bein' a lookout." Redrick said to Tamamo, still in a whisper, like always. "Say... I'm plannin' on raising a little hell. If... say, if I could get you one of those guard's guns... how much damage could you do? If you were willing, that is."

 

[Eistheid]

Fruna Ruica, Main Convention Floor, Deck 3

His reaction to her response, one of venomous rage, was not one that she had expected. Nor could she understand why he would be claim to be glad that the Pirates had seized the ship. So much didn't make sense about the old Nepleslian, still she observed patiently as he began to move once more.

Tamamo didn't see why the man continued to injure himself needlessly. He clearly needed to be resting and recovering, preferably with some actual care given to him, however she was hardly in a position to restrain the heavyset man, let alone administer medical aid. As such she was forced to listen to the pained noises he made while keeping a her vision nervously on the guards.

Eventually the man settled down once more, apparently satisfied with his achievement, earning another half glance from Tamamo as she maintained her nervous vigil. Really it would have been easier for her, even bound as she was to free him, perhaps she should have offered.

She found herself confused by the sudden praise, and shortly after Tamamo began to wonder what had prompted it. Before she could venture any possibilities however, she was distracted by his next statement leaving her to puzzle out his intended meaning.

After a minute of silence feeling confident that she had worked out what the old man wanted to convey and the appropriate response, Tamamo replied quietly, "Assuming that you are able to procure some form of semi-automatic rifle with appropriate ammunition available. I would most likely be able to dispatch the hostiles with a chance of success around eighty percent. However, I can not accurately predict the likelihood of civilian casualties. Though with the departure of the Delsaurian they are no longer a guarantee."

She spared a glance to the old Nepleslian before resettling her gaze in the direction of the pirates and inquired quietly, "Is that acceptable?"

 

[ShotJon]

Fruna Ruica, Hotel Space, Deck 4

Zeta walked out of the airlock, her vulcan sweeping left and right. It seemed that the place was empty, or rather it was emptied by someone. No one was around, which was good. That meant that this was an actual infiltration. It gave Zeta chance to look around and maybe go and get on the bridge or something. Or maybe engine room, though she was not sure she would know how to turn stuff off. It would be better to go for the bridge.

"Well ma'am it appears everyone left in a hurry," Wesley told her in her helmet.
"More like they were dragged off Wes," Zeta replied to her trusty AI.
"Yes, it seems we are against a nasty bunch of wankers indeed." The AI replied.
"Shush, I hear something," Wesley was cut off by Zeta.
"Well, no one can hear us though ma'am, the conversation is inside the helmet and cut off speaker." Wesley could not help himself.
"That bloody lovely and all, but I can hear bugger nothing over your mewling," Zeta insisted on silence.
"My apologies then," Wesley finished up.

Zeta heard a sound of someone suffering a sound she would never let go. Also a snakey like voice, which was strange. Maybe it was a band of Separa'shan pirates. Zeta did not know, she did not care. If they spoke, they could also surrender or die. Zeta hoped bit for second option.

Zeta moved out to the corner to peek around to see what she was up again. It was not clever idea to just burst in after all.

 

[Lamb]

"Well, looks like yous guys got this. Calls me if y' needs me, folks." Enzo had kept hold of the ear piece from Yamatai. Or maybe he'd nicked another one. Echelon had so many, and she seemed to give them out like candy. So, he left a little message and then zipped out of the elevator in timing with one of the larger explosions. Everyone always looked at explosions, not at weasely-if-colorful forms darting into the shadows from the other elevator, the less-important one that was barely belching any lead at all in comparison to its larger compatriot. There was at some cut in the cargo hold a corridor to slip into and hostages to locate. Hostages to locate and 'blend in' with.

 

[Luca]

Fruna Ruica, Shipping Reception Area
♫ Machinae Supremacy - Escaping the Krut ♫

Cass found a grenade sailing towards her LEAF frame during the hurly burly of close combat. Luca had already dealt with the grenadier's compainon by putting a pair of superheated batteries into their skull and creating quite a mess on the wall behind them and the boxes he was standing on!

Her shields were still on standby, and Seiren had activated his to go on the offensive against his pair of aggressors.

The mech's thrusters flared, a mass of steel hurtling toward the grenadier and the boxes he was standing on as she forced herself to keep her eyes open, trying not to look at the big red splotch Luca had made from her target's friend, and definitely not trying to look at the even bigger red mess the LEAF was going to make of her target.

The grenadier was pulling a second grenade off of his bandolier when he saw Cass charging at him, and his first grenade exploded just behind Cass. shards of shrapnel slicing into the back of the armour and grazing it, absorbing most of the explosion whilst Luca could feel fragments strike the back of his jacket as he was staying low in cover. He only grunted a little, it was just flak.

The grenadier's eyes were as wide as saucers when he saw the Frame charge into what he was standing on and send him flying arse over teapot, unprimed grenade flying out of his hands as he found himself smacking into the back wall, then falling face down into a collection of destroyed stock that Cass' LEAF had torn apart.

From what was still intact, the stock seemed to be assemble-it-yourself furniture and booth equipment, as well as rolled up posters and displays, now torn to bits. Perhaps they were for an event that was supposed to take place at the convention. She found her windshield peppered in 'free samples', condoms in wrappers now dotting her frame's field of view.

Ignoring the sudden flush in her cheeks, she leaned over in the mech to hoist the unfortunate sod by the leg, gave him a good shake, and threw him gently (well, as gently as a death machine could throw squishy organics) in the general direction of Luca. She'd prefer not to deliever the final blow, but the mech's weapons are all pointed at him, just in case.

Luca had jumped over cover to make a rush and charge - the opposition was getting flanked and trying to get into cover, and he was going to take the opportunity to move ahead and smash them. The grenadier landed headfirst on Luca's previous cover, causing him to stop for a moment to assess what was going on.

He saw Cass' frame surrounded in paraphernelia and 'free samples', but he wasn't going to argue with the results when he saw a grenadier who was out cold.

The rocketeer who was taking aim at Cass found their weapon confiscated and used as a bludgeon by the Barbarian Nekovalkyrja, their scrunched hemet flying off of their head and revealing them to be a Yamataian man with red hair crumpling at Shayla's feet.

A shotgun blast rung out and Shayla found her chest and right shoulder peppered with buckshot, but the shotgunner found something much bigger than double-aught to worry about as the rocket launcher smashed into their chest and bowled them over.

As Luca was making his advance, gave the shotgunner a kick in the head to make sure they stayed down. Ahead, he could see a man with an assault rifle trying to fire at the elevator to keep its occupants in - and Enzo trying to slip out of it.

Above him, Echelon was beating the tar out of the sniper with her Mimicom body's strength, following on from the sheer violence of the assault that was taking place. Luca started firing above the head of the man pinning the elevator down. "Hey! I'm a distraction!" Luca yelled as he then made a whipping motion with his arm and fired the Grapple Stunner at his leg and whipped him off of his feet.

Enzo found an opportunity to slip through while his boss gave him an opening, and it was time for him to get deeper into the ship.

Meanwhile, on Seiren's front, the two men who stood before him firing wildly were dispatche quickly by his electrolaser and his HIPR. The grenadier shot with the HIPR had their arm and part of their shoulder blown off and they fell to the floor, dying. The cover they were trying to head towards was torn apart by the plasma.

The grenade they'd thrown earlier blew up, but the shielding Seiren had put up absorbed most of the blast. Aiesu, meanwhile tried to stay close, jumping with fright as she heard shrapnel whiz past her. She was a construct and prided herself on being ultimately expendable, but this construct was made for talking, not... doing whatever it is the Phoenix do. A shard of shrapnel scratched her, and milky white construct blood started to ooze from the small gash.

The Electrolaser was set to Medium, and a pulse of it struck the Rifleman in the legs and caused him to keel over before Seiren fired another pulse at his chest and fried his insides through his armour. The magazines of ammunition on their chest cooked off and started exploding too, further disfiguring them. Neither of these two men's funerals would be an open casket.

The medic that was standing behind them then panicked. "The LZ is a shitstorm!" They yelled into their microphone as they started hip firing at Seiren, bullets bouncing off of the shield. "I repeat, they've bought heavy, heavy ordnance! We need heavy backup!"

A round flew past Seiren's shields and struck Rebeka in the chest. A brief gout of orange fluid and a hissing sound could be heard, and a moment later, the bullet fell out of her, squished and expanded into a shape resembled a flower.

Melissa moved up from cover with her profile and her rifle low, swivelling as she approached the crates to put her back to them and her rifle's barrel up in the air. She looked at the ejected bullet and the puddle of orange blood on the ground.

She noticed that Rebeka didn't appear to be hurt, but she did seem annoyed, like she'd been bitten by a mosquito.

"We need the power armour backup!" the lone medic yelled as they swapped magazines, missing the magazine well the first time and finally stuffing it in on the second try.
"Are you fucking certain? We need the fucking Breaker here!" The commander replied into the radio as he retreated behind a pillar for harder cover from that stomping thing that was covered in freaking Nekoranger decals. "Who the hell are these guys?"



Fruna Ruica, Hotel Space, Deck 4
♫ Power Glove - Dr. Elizabeth Darling (From Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon) ♫

Zeta peered into the hotel room, and the first thing she could see was snake skin wrapped around a man, squeezing the life out of him. On the floor was an assault rifle, looked recently fired. The humanoid torso that belonged to the top of the snakeskin and their face was that of a man's, and there were bullet holes - one in their hip and two further down in their serpentine body. Just as well, they were, um, naked. They looked like quite a catch by anyone's standards, perhaps a walking - er, slithering example of why xenophilia is fun, save for the bullet holes.

The Separa'shan was looking at the door when Zeta poked their head in. He unwrapped themselves from the person. The person in their grip appeared to be someone armed for war whose bones had now been crushed into powder, while the Separa'shan's state of undress and natural beauty looked more inclined for a cuddle, romantic dinner and a live dance performance; not the fatal sort of constriction he was doling out here. It was likely to be self defence.

"Oh, oh my - uh, s-so sorry you had to see that!" They said, voice effeminate as they pulled a blanket over themselves with a furious blush to cover their unmentionables. They were speaking Yamatai-go. "H-he was trying to kill me, see?" He pointed to the bleeding that was coming from their hip, now staining the blanket. "You're ... not here to kill me too, are you? You don't look like one of them..." They smiled nervously, the tip of their long long tail flicking back and forth. "There's gunfire somewhere upstairs... was that you or your friends or...?"

They were still bleeding. Maybe it was the adrenaline keeping them going for the moment.

The interior of their room seemed to have been that of a palace with warm, low lighting, sweets on display and beautiful pictures on the wall of real artistic merit. This person was an honoured guest of some sort to have such an opulent looking room. Zeta guessed that they were probably here not just to indulge and partake, but also to show off something. During the briefing, much to Luca's embarrassment, an image or two of a Separa'shan appeared amongst other things.

"I... I need a doctor or something," They whimpered, clutching the blanket against their wounds and curling their tail around themselves defensively at Zeta.

Zeta didn't see it at first, but there was a first aid cabinet in the hallway for public use, close to where she entered.


Fruna Ruica, Main Convention Floor, Deck 3
♫ Simon Viklund - Tick Tock (from PAYDAY 2) ♫

The remaining mercenary pirates seemed to be hearing the situation unfold in their earpieces. "Oh my god they're getting torn apart up there. We have to assist them." One mercenary said.
"We have orders not to go anywhere. We have to keep an eye on these guys," his companion looked up and noticed the sallow Nepleslian shuffling around in place next to the Nekovalkyrja with the hair - though, he suspected the Nekovalkyrja just to be a Yamataian with cat ears - given how outlandish the skin colour was and the fact that they were bound in ribbons when they found them - and didn't put up much resistance either.

"Oh for the love of..." they sighed, grabbing a hold of their rifle and striding over. "Hey, stop that. You want to live?" The mercenary pointed the barrel of his gun in Red's direction, shaking it at him intimidatingly. He was just an old looking man anyway, and they found him in a kitchen - with one of their own with their face smashed in and the other concussed. But he didn't know that, all this guy harassing Red knew is that they found him in a kitchen. "Lay the fuck down, fatass."

And this poor sap was within arm's reach of the haggard chef.


Fruna Ruica, Hallways, Deck 1
Enzo found himself in a hallway lined with advertisements as for the convention. One of the advertisements, depicting a separa'shan with a microphone in their hand and advertising a hypnotic dance session was spraypainted over with the pirate's symbol, a circle with a downwards pointing arrow coming from the top and a chevron in the middle, extending to the sides. A couple of the other advertisements on the wall, displaying other lewd looking acts and discussions were also graffiti'd.

On repeat, Enzo could hear a sultry woman's voice. "Welcome to the Kikyo Sector Lifestyle Convention, graciously hosted by the Fruna Ruica~ Enjoy Life, enjoy life stylishly~" Pink neon arrows on the floor and amongst the advertisements were helpful enough to guide Enzo down the stairs, past the second floor where all of the private meeting rooms, restaurants and gift shops were, and down to the third floor where the main convention floor was.

A repurposed cargo ship did wonders for how much space a whole lot of people with common interests could be congregated together to talk about ... whatever caught their fancy. In this case, just ask someone what caught their fancy and you'd probably get a list three miles long, and you'd tick a few of the boxes there, appealing to them in ways you didn't consider. Along the way, Enzo was able to swipe a handful of 'free samples' if he so desired from unattended stalls and the scattered personal belongings of the convention goers along the way.

He didn't see any of those goons patrolling the halls as he slunk through them either - maybe they were busy keeping an eye on the bridge and the hundreds of hostages in the convention area. He could see a couple of ways into the convention room, a room full of red strands from the walls, ceiling and floor to get entangled within, the front doors (which he thought were probably being watched) and a movie theatre that was playing something quite saucy sounding, and he could hear a couple of lewd chuckles from men he couldn't see, the seating being behind curtain.

From a distance, though, he could hear something stomping, echoing down the hallways to his ears. It sounded like power armour.

 

[ShotJon]

Fruna Ruica, Hotel Space, Deck 4

Zeta warily watched the snake-man and listened to his explanation. The ex-bodyguard in power armour looked around the room and at the Separa'Shan and decided, that the snake was telling the truth. It was unlikely that the armoured man with an assault rifle was a victim. For now she decided to stay off speaker though. She wanted to confirm something from Echelon first.

"Wesley dear," Zeta asked inside her helmet.
"Yes ma'am?" The AI replied to her.
"Be so kind, and send a pic of dead soldier-boy over there to Ech and get her to confirm if he matches with mercs they are fighting all right?"
"Right away ma'am," Wesley said with his butler like voice.
"Thank you," Zeta thanked him and turned to the snake-man.

"All right, I am from Luca Pavone's crew. We got an SOS and came to help." She said as she moved to the dead man. Zeta picked up the assault rifle and put it over her shoulder, she also made sure to take any side arm the man could have. "Let me check outside for any first aid kit. I am no medic though."

With that, Zeta walked backwards out of the room and looked around. It only take her a while to see a first aid cabinet on the nearby wall. She grabbed it and tore it whole from the wall, rather then fidgeting through it. The woman in power armour turned back and returned into the room, setting the cabinet on the table and opening it.

"I found some stuff," Zeta said to the snake-man. "If nothing else there should be some gel bandages or painkillers. We have a medic on the ship, but we need to secure this thing first. So do you have any knowledge how can I get to bridge or engine room, whichever is closer?"

 

[Phe0n1x]

Makari had waited for the initial salvo to die down a bit before sprinting out and over towards the AR Infantry's barricade, HHG drawn. His chocolate brown trenchcoat swirling behind him. He vaulted over the barricade using his left left arm hoping to land on the enemy behind it. He had his metal lined cowboy boots on for such an occasion. Especially with the extra force of vaulting a barricade, the force at which he lands on something as squishy as a person would do enough damage to, at minimum, stun. Today, Makari had no interest in the peons as it had been far too long without a good hunt. Too much time in a spaceship and in Yamatai had left him itching for some action. He regained his composure from the jump and the "soft landing" as he steadied his aim with both hands. This was also to reduce the recoil as he aimed his HHG towards the commander and shot off a few rounds quick draw style.

Makari had used a bit of foresight and his Bounty Hunting experience to load blue ammo as his first set of shells for the HHG. While he would love to plaster these upstanding citizens all over the walls of the ship, a commander is a prize worth capturing. In this case, for juicy intel.

 

[Born-On-Board]

Redrick considered the young Neko's estimate. 80% was good odds. He didn't like that she couldn't guarantee that any civilians wouldn't be harmed, but that was a factor that was impossible to measure - as long as guns were in play there was a risk. With barely a moment's deliberation, he nodded.

"80% is good, Tamamo-chan. Very good." Redrick said, breathlessly. "I'll take those odds."

A mercenary had taken interest in them, and approached with long, careless strides. "Hey stop that! You wanna live?"

Redrick looked at Tamamo, and whispered. "Get ready. It's about to get loud."

Her bindings were fragile - with a Neko's inherent strength and flexibility, it would take a fraction of a second to burst free from her bonds. He looked to his own bindings.

In a small bit of windfall, the zip tie that had served as his cuffs had been bent out of place by the forces of his attempted escape - the tie was now loose and pliable. He flexed his hands a few time, welcoming the sensation of blood flowing into his digits. The pirate, unmindful of the grave mistake he'd just made, came within easy grabbing distance of the old, fat, seemingly nonthreatening man.

"Lay the fuck down, fatass." The pirate's gun muzzle was tantalizingly close.

Redrick didn't bother with a snappy comeback. With a speed that surprised even him, he ripped the weakened cuffs off, and grabbed the muzzle of the man's gun. He yanked down, throwing the gunman off balance.

The rifle fired. The round missed, but it bounced off the deck at a strange angle, shearing a small gash into Red's jacket, shirt, and then skin, sending a small patina of blood to the deck.

It was deafeningly loud and blindingly bright, but Redrick held on to the hot gun muzzle for dear life. The gunman fired again, but the ringing in Redrick's ears seemed to drown him out. Unlike the first shot, this round deflected harmlessly from the floor. Red let out an inarticulate howl, partly of anger, partly of pain, mostly of hate. This gunman was the focal point of the entirety of Red's world right now, and if Red didn't succeed in disarming him, he would die.

It was that simple.

Redrick yanked down again, this time using the gunman's grip on his weapon as resistance for him to stand up. He pulled the muzzle of the rifle against his body and, with his other arm, delivered a bell-ringing blow with his elbow to his opponent's face. The man let go of his gun, ending the confused, life-or-death tangle the two of them had entered into, with Red the clear victor.

Redrick, as if on the parade ground, smartly flipped the gunman's rifle about, and shot his opponent in the face, ending with technology what brute humanity had started. The gunman fell down like the punchline of a bad joke, like a poorly stacked house of cards - like a man that had just been killed by being shot in the face, imagine that.

Redrick threw himself straight backwards to the deck - a standing target was a dead target here - and tossed the rifle to Tamamo.

"I did my part, girl!" Redrick yelled. "Now it's your turn to do yours!"

 

[miss_story]

The Elevators>Maintenance tunnels
His small frame which was quite honestly 'designed' to fit well in maintenance shafts He planned to be as quiet and unnoticed as possible so he wanted to stick to those and head to a consul that he could control the arms and electro net of the ship in case these pirates attempted to escape or if they had additional company. While everyone was boarding the lifts he was still uploading information about the internal layout of the ship and how he might reach the consul without engaging in combat. So wrapped up in the studying of the map that he didn't even realize that the lift was leaving without him. Reeves dropped to one knee and pulled out his multitool. He removed the door control panel for the elevator sparking it open with a practiced ease that came with dealing with ships all his life. He Checked down the shaft to be sure that the elevator wasn't coming back up at him before grabbing hold of the bars of the ladder on the interior of the shaft. He skipped several rungs at a time not wanting to risk the chances of the smaller elevator coming back up at him. He counted the distance traveled softly aloud to quell his nerves. He was willingly going into a ship with potentially violent individuals. Hell if he screwed up even a little bit he could die. Slipping into an alcove on the third deck he consulted his data jockey to confirm his path toward the bridge. Once he was in there he could instigate isolation safety procedures to keep him safe, but the chances of the bridge being empty were fairly low. There was also the chance of getting shot through the roof. A high powered gun or explosive could rip into a maintenance shaft. He took a deep breath holding it in for a long while. He couldn't let himself think like that he just needed to stick to his little plan. His quiet path would not reach all the way to the Bridge so he would have to go out into the open and be quick about it when the time came.

Reeves tucked away his downloaded diagrams of the ship class and began to crawl as quickly and as quietly as he could manage through the air duct that doubled as access to some major electrical wires so the narrow path was uncomfortably warm. He continued to make small vocalizations of his current position mostly out of habit and also because he needed to listen to something other than the sound of the ongoing fight elsewhere on the ship.

 

[Lamb]

"Oho, no, fuck dat." Enzo said in light of the recent stomping sound which had interrupted him stuffing an abandoned shopping bag with sexy trinkets. "I ain't done skulking just yet."

If there'd been a proximity mine to leave in the main aisle, Enzo would've done everyone a favor. However; when he stomped his foot and tripped the spring-loaded mechanism in his boot, all that came out was a flask of PortaScotty scotch. It was one of those moments when Enzo would impress himself with alcohol before ducking into the theater and crouching behind the rear-most row of seats to scope out both the mid-flight matinée and the entrance to the room where the delicious, sexy hostages were being held. Besides, he could've sworn he just barely heard a gunshot over the moaning, groaning, and grinding of whatever was playing on the big screen.

 

[Reynolds]

Shipping Reception Area

Shayla looked down at herself after hurling that makeshift projectile, grunting at the sight of blood seeping from the scattering of wounds, small but ragged holes added to sections of her neon colored top. Thankfully she'd blocked her pain receptors before flying into combat, but it was still upsetting. "Did you have to shoot me in the <that sound Wookies make>!? D'ya know how sensitive these <fucking, it's fucking, everyone learned this word in her language really fast> things are!?" She kicked the downed pirate next to her, both to emphasize her point and make sure he stayed down.

The resistance had died down pretty fast as the crew spread out, pirates out and on their backs faster than....well, the kind of people who booked this cruise, probably. The boss and the cowboy seemed to be converging on the group's leader, and she wasn't about to wander into the path of that mech or the kid's pet alien to get to the frantic pirate medic. The giant Neko grabbed the bodies closest to her and dragged them back behind cover, beginning a pile of pirates. Once the shooting was over, she'd have to gather all of them up and see who was dead, who needed to be put out of their misery, and who were in good enough shape to be treated and restrained. Maybe they'd have some information, maybe not, but there was no reason to let them suffer, or let them wake up and cause problems later.

 

[Eistheid]

Fruna Ruica, Main Convention Floor, Deck 3

She watched her captors carefully as she awaited the old Nepleslian's verdict on her presented chance of success. There seemed to be more trouble occurring elsewhere on the ship than the pirates had expected, and Tamamo noted that they were becoming increasingly anxious, perhaps enough so to make mistakes.

Distracted from her careful study of the increasingly edgy guards by the old Nepleslian's confirmation and acceptance of the proposed probability of success and consequences, Tamamo nodded slightly acknowledging that she was prepared to carry out the suggested plan.

A moment later one of the guards started moving toward her location, with purpose unknown. Wondering if she had drawn their attention or if it was the fidgeting of the old man, Tamamo froze for a second before edging away from the old man slightly as it became apparent that he was the guard's focus. She wondered if it would look suspicious that she was moving away from him, even though she was primarily motivated by a desire not to be hit by any weapons fire directed at the old man. As the nervous guard commanded the old Nepleslian and shook his rifle at the man, Tamamo came to the conclusion that her action had been a wise one as the old Nepleslian's desire to continue life was questioned, and he was ordered to lay down.

A brief warning was barely heard that things were to get loud, something she didn't quiet understand at first, however motion at the edge of her vision told her that the heavy set man had gone into action. It seemed he had managed to get his hands free of their binding, and the rifle seemed to move down thought it still fired followed by the scent of fresh blood and after a moment a faint trace of what seemed to be bacon.

Her eyes already directed elsewhere Tamamo easily avoided being dazzled by the flash, though the sound of the gunshot was decidedly unpleasant causing her to flatten her ears against her head in a vain attempt to muffle the sound despite the close quarters. A second shot followed, though this one came with no new blood from what she could tell however the tantalizing scent of bacon increased along with a second loud report that displeased her.

New sounds of motion, rustling fabric, strained breaths, what sounded like a brief struggle finally ending in what sounded like a heavy, meaty impact. A moment later there was a final flash just outside of her field of view and an accompanying report from the firearm that marked the end of the engagement as a body crumpled to the ground beside her.

Venturing a glance Tamamo was relieved to confirm that her strange companion had been the victor in the brief exchange. With the first portion of the old Nepleslian's plan having proven fruitful, Tamamo flexed against her bonds, the red ribbon that bound her snapping in many places as she spread her arms ensuring that she had a full range of motion while the ribbon fell away. As she did this the heavy set Nepleslian rather ungracefully threw himself to the floor, and parted with the rifle.

Tossed in her direction, the rifle was easily intercepted by her small nimble hands even as she shifted from her kneeling position into a more advantageous crouch. The grip was smoothly guided into her left hand, while her right ensured the safety was off and that the rifle was set to semi-automatic fire before moving to support the firearm as she tucked it against her body and brought it around to the first of her targets.

Useless thoughts drained from her mind as she lined up the first shot from her crouched position with the centre of the nearest guard's chest, the other prisoners around her thankfully not obscuring her aim. A slow breath was drawn, followed by a tranquil exhale that matched the steady squeeze of the trigger, the shot going off as just as her body settled at rest.

The first shot was off the mark, eight centimetres too high, two and a half toward the right, a hit, but not where she had aimed. Adjusting and taking into mind the how the weapon had kicked, Tamamo tried to compensate and the second shot followed an instant after the first; also off the mark, but closer this time, a centimetre too far down and three to the left. A third shot followed smoothly this time a centimetre to the right off of her mark, acceptable.

The three shots had come one after another, taking just long enough for her to register the impact of each, adjust, and squeeze the trigger for the follow up. Immediately after the third shot impacted, Tamamo easily pivoted to the left, lining up her next target, once again aiming for the centre of the chest before making an adjustment to compensate for the angle at which her target stood at.

Three more shots followed, a much smaller grouping, all within a few centimetres of her intended target. Without pausing, Tamamo once again pivoted lining up with her third target, one of the door guards, more distant, but likely easy enough to hit even with her unfortunately inaccurate weapon.

As she pulled the trigger once more, she hoped that the old Nepleslian would manage to be quick with getting her a new magazine when the present one emptied, as improvising in the middle of a crowd would be far from ideal.

 

[Born-On-Board]

Redrick flipped himself onto his stomach, then swiveled around, crawling back towards the downed gunman. He desperately wished that these guys guarding the hostages were a higher caliber of goon that the ones that had tried to apprehend him in the kitchen - please, please let them have come prepared for a day at the office.

Tamamo's first shots banged off, and Redrick saw the next closest merc fall over. It was on.

He reached the downed gunman, and began to rifle through the man's pockets. Another three shots rang out. Tamamo was going to town. There was no way of knowing exactly how much ammunition had been in the rifle's magazine, and nine rounds expended so far was pushing Red's comfort zone with this plan. They needed ammo, stat.

Redrick snarled in disgust as the man's chest webbing turned out to be filled with nothing but plunder - paper money, jewelry, and oddly enough candy bars.

"Who in the fuck does this!?" Redrick shouted. "Pasco in his grave! I'm surrounded by goddamn amateurs!"

He moved on the man's pants pockets. Another shot. He winced.

Finally!

He dug out several rifle magazines, from both the front and back pockets of the man's pants. They had clearly been moved to make way for what the deceased thought had been more important. Oh well.

His mistake.

"Tamamo! I got a present for you!" Redrick said, tossing her a new magazine. "And don't be stingy, there's plenty more!"

 

[Moogle]

Seiren's aim centered on the medic with HIPR and fired. He didn't dwell on it, however, and routed some power back to the movement of the Frame and began moving forward, attention settling on the commander hiding behind the pillar. The inventor decided a simple surpression from his side was in order, and took to firing his Mancannon at the edge of the support strut.

"He's pinned down, guys! Take him out!" Seiren called on comms.

 

[Sham]

Soruk had been prepared for anything being in the elevator, but that didn't mean he EXPECTED everything. Certainly not Enzo sprawled on the floor of the little metal box. He pondered if he could manage bury his wristblades in the conman and blame it on his preparedness to take anything in the elevator out. His hesitation took away the chance however, so the blademaster settled with ignoring Enzo, casting a frown at him as he entered the elevator.

As the little metal box traveled downwards, a bit after Luca and Co. had started down, Soruk picked up the sounds of a firefight picking up. So much for the element of surprise. Perhaps some of it can be salvaged.... At the end of that thought, the service elevator popped open and the scene of a firefight was put in front of him. Whatever could be salvaged was lost as his 'sneaky' compatriots charged out of the elevator yelling and shooting.

He didn't bother exiting, an open firefight was hardly his forte and the assassin believed his 'friends' could handle it. He cast a glance upwards and spotted one of his favorite things, a little maintenance hatch on top of the elevator. At last, some peace. A moment later, the gartagen disappeared into the elevator shaft, then a nearby ventilation duct.

Once inside his miniature haven, the gartagen made it his first priority to get away from the firefight. It would draw too much attention and he didn't like that. He also didn't like the noise. His second priority was to do what assassins' were supposed to do, take out the targets at the top of the chain. Of course, the gartagen had no idea who that was, but he figured they would probably be around the bridge. Maybe not. If they weren't there, he could always 'ask' someone.

The first order of business was to figure out where the bridge was. He was familiar with some ships, but not this one. This one was 'special'. It probably would have helped to do a bit of research on the ship this one was based on. He could have asked Ech, but the gartagen wasn't eager to hear her voice. She was probably busy with the firefight anyhow. He decided to ask either a passenger, or a pirate, whichever came first. Asking a pirate would be less pleasant, but he had been through worse.

If it was by mistake or fate, the blademaster was crawling his way towards the aft of the vessel, rather then his intended destination...

(OOC Note: Sorry about the lateness. Wasn't feeling up to it and life happens.)

 

[Luca]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 1
The Medic who Seiren had set his eyes on decided to make a run for it, and when the pint sized inventor had pulled the trigger, he ended up blowing a hole in the wall and the floor. Seiren swivelled attempting to reacquire his target, but they were already making a run for it out of the battlefield and into the ship. Luca tried to line up a shot and fired, but the construction of his Battery Rifle gave him an electric shock and spoiled his aim, firing far to the right of his target and making him stagger. The medic covered their head and kept running, rounding a corner.

Makari's vaulting assault caught the rifleman by surprise as they watched Enzo disappear and yell alarums. The only alarm they were able to raise. The two HHG Blue shots he fired a moment later shattered against the Squad Leader's armour and face.

As they fell down the tranquillisers took hold, their finger squeezed the trigger with the assistance of gravity and fired their machine pistol into the floor, creating a neat series of holes by Makari's feet before it fell out of his hand.

Luca looked down at the Captain with his own HHG, the one in black whipped out and loaded to kill. "He's all yours," Luca grinned to Makari as the two pointed their guns down, Luca's grin getting wider and wider.

Behind them, someone could be heard falling from a decent height, splattering against the ground as their spare magazines jingled, followed shortly by their rifle landing stock first into their head with a satisfying bonk.

"I think that's all of them here!" Echelon said, before hopping down from the boxes, then giving the Sniper another kick in the head for good measure. She then heard someone groaning and trying to stand back up, the rifleman Makari had kicked in the head. "Hang on."

Behind Luca and Makari, the sound of multiple, heavy handed slaps could be heard.

"Okay that's all of them, for real this time," Echelon corrected herself.

-

If the crew wanted to move ahead, there were two new ways through the ship. A digital compass would coalesce for those with earpieces, projected in front of them for ease of direction.

To the 'north' was the elevator half of the team had come from, which was the Starboard side of the Fruna Ruica. To the 'east' was one of the main entryways to the convention that took a scenic detour through the gift shops and stalls. Enzo had gone that way a moment ago.

To the 'south' was the way the Medic had left, and according to the signage, which alternated between Yamatai-go, Trade, and Lorath Ly'thir, was the most direct way to the convention floor. One of the words that came up alongside the direction was 'Tongue Slide' - same way as the convention.

Luca briefly wondered if it was a Yamataian thing to have an oral fixation.

"Everybody okay?" Luca asked as he looked around.
"Yeah," Melissa said.
"Yes." Echelon said.


Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Theatre
♫ Simon Viklund - Calling All Units (from PAYDAY 2) ♫

Enzo could spot three soldiers sitting on the chairs with their helmets off and their rifles by their sides, watching what was on the luminescent screen. A Freespacer wearing the emblem of these pirates on their shoulder was sitting next to the projector, plugged into it via one of many dreadlocks and projecting hardcore... something pornography. It was difficult to tell what exactly was going on. The soldiers were enjoying it.

The Freespacer seemed to put a finger to their temple and asked, "H3Y. WHY D0 Y0U FL3SHB4GS L1K3 TH1S K1ND4 STUFF 4NYW4Y. 1 D0N'T G3T 1T." The computerised voice sounded masculine, disinterested in the action on screen.

"You're made of metal, you wouldn't understand," One of the soldiers, a Yamataian said.

"I bet your dick's made of metal too." A Nepleslian accented voice chuckled.

"WH4T'S D1CK 4G41N? 1S 1T TH3 D4NGLY TH1NG?" The Freespacer replied, sighing.

"Hey, not long ago you were asking 'WHAT IS FUCK', Wire Head." The Yamataian soldier briefly slipping into what could be a mimicry of a Freespacer's voice. The three of them laughed.

The Freespacer sighed again, but the sound of gunshots could be heard from inside the convention hall sent all three soldiers and the Freespacer snapping to attention. "Contact!" One of them yelled, grabbing their rifle and their helmet, slipping it back on.

"Pants on, go go go!" Another of the soldiers, a Lorath Lmanel was directing their Nepleslian compatriot. The Freespacer unplugged themselves from the projector and moved out with them.

Enzo didn't know who was shooting, or why; thankfully the sound of stomping was gone, faded into silence as it moved out of earshot.


Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Main Convention Floor
Within Enzo's earshot, gunshots.

Red hit the floor shortly after his tormentor hit the floor with a 5.56mm problem piercing a hole through their visor and skull. The ribbons binding Tamamo broke apart with relative ease and she grabbed the flying Rifle, and started her assault. Around her, the patrons were screaming as the gunshots pierced their ears and made them double over and eat the convention floor's plush red carpets in panic.

On her first target, her Kennewes Drill style of shooting, perhaps unbeknownst to her by name was able to stop, drop and kill in three swift bullets. The first bullet made the target pause, the second put them down, the third was to make sure they stayed down. Their body armour absorbed the force of the first bullet and forced the breath out of them, but was destroyed wtih the second, and perforated entirely with the third.

The second target had raised their rifle and started firing on Semi-Automatic at Tamamo, acquiring her low profile quickly as the Nekovalkyrja returned fire. Her mathematical and methodical way of thinking helped her compensate for the Rifle's kick and aim shortcomings quickly, in addition to the immediate experience. The close range at which she was shooting let her repeat the Kennewes Drill easily, putting them down.

Her third target had taken one of the bullets to the chest, but he had hit the deck with their rifle and a score of bound and helpless civilians between them and him. The other two rounds penetrated the door and hit the bulkhead on the other side of it.

She counted twelve shots fired, three of which from Red. The magazine she'd been tossed landed close to her feet. Civilians were looking up at Tamamo, and down at Red.

"Hey, you're bleeding," One of the convention goers said, accent uncertain, looking at Tamamo's chest. A pair of bullets had struck her in the chest. She didn't feel much, but it was a pain in her chest. She didn't have a frame of reference for pain until now - and the first sensations of it were registering.

Four more enemies had burst in from a theatre behind her, approximately thirty yards away and consisting of three armed soldiers and a Freespacer. The Freespacer, however seemed to disengage and make a beeline for the door, heading for the stern of the vessel.

"High alert, high alert, civilian is attacking AND we have invaders!"
"Breaker en route to Invading Force. I'll make sure there's nothing left of them." A reply could be heard over the radios, sounding distinctly Lorath.

This lead some of the convention goers to wonder who was invading who.


Fruna Ruica, Maintenance Passages and Crawlspace
♫ Mystic Towers - MOD00002.mod / Atmosphere 4 ♫

Reeves and Soruk had split off from the main party in their own directions, still in contact and IFF thanks to earpieces provided by Echelon. The passages of this ship were untouched by the deviousness pervading its patrons, meant for ship technicians and for robots to use as access passages to get to and from vital ship components and do routine checks.

Reeves himself in a comfortably familiar space, surrounded by wires, pipework and diagnostics points that could provide all sorts of data if plugged into.

Soruk, meanwhile was heading towards the aft of the ship, the back of it. He wasn't familiar with the layout of the ship, and slowly, plans were being downloaded by Echelon into his earpiece's holographic projector, projecting from the bottom deck of the ship upwards. He noticed Zeta's position on the map appearing in the relative middle on deck four, closer to the Aft.

In his gut, something was telling Soruk that he was going the wrong way as he watched the map coalesce in front of him.

The convenient triangulation of everyone had allowed Echelon to start mapping everyone's locations in three dimensions - it didn't work as well when people were bunched up. Looking through the walls and at the rest of the team in their various locations would cause the built in hologram projector to put an outline of where they were in orange.


Fruna Ruica, Deck 4, Hotel Rooms
The Separa'shan entertainer grabbed the medical equipment, nodding and bowing at Zeta as he lifted the lid and found some of what he needed, he seemed to be reading the instructions, and mouthing words in Yamatai-go before nodding that the illustrated instructions rather than the written ones were confirming his expectations.

He bought a medical applicator out, put the reservoir in, put a nozzle on and glued his gunshots closed. It'd stop the bleeding and numb the pain, but he knew that he had to get those bullets removed at a later date, lest his beautiful body, strong arms, and thick, muscular tail be scarred permanently and ruin his dancing technique.

"Alright, I-I feel good," he said, slithering off of the bed and towards the door, quiet as could be as they moved back and forth. Zeta would notice him spasming a little when he wove to the left, probably from the bullets stuck in him. "I got to see the Bridge while I was being shown around, it was this way, front of the ship."

"By the way, who's Luca Pavone?" He asked, earnest and sincere as he turned back to look at Zeta. "Isss he on the guest list?" The Separa'shan, who still hadn't introduced themselves noticed the assault rifle, coiled around it with the tip of their tail, and curled to put it in their hands. They way they were holding it showed Zeta he had no clue what he was doing - he truly was a lover rather than a fighter.

Wesley, meanwhile received pictures of Echelon of the pirates the rest of the team was fighting, and a common motif was the logo: A circle with a downwards pointing arrow in the top half, and a chevron, both extending to the edges of it.

These were the pirates she was looking for.

 

[ShotJon]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 4, Hotel Rooms

Zeta frowned and kicked the dead body for a good measure. "Bloody pirates," she added and thanked Wesley inside her helmet. Her visor then turned back to the snake man. It appeared like he was about to go with her, but she would rather not have to worry about some civilian. Especially since he was injured. It would be safer for him to stay in his room and hide. Zeta picked up the dead pirate and tossed him into the hallway.

"First, Luca is my boyfriend and good guy who is leading this rescue mission. Try checking him on the net, when we get out of here." Zeta replied simply. She then took the pistol, that dead pirate had and extra ammo for it and set it on the table. "I think it would be better for you to stay here. Bridge and way to it, will be full of the pirates and you are already hurt. Just close and lock your doors and wait. Either me or one of my friends will come for you when it is done. You will know them, they will be armed and look really weird."

With that Zeta gave the snake a nod and headed the she was shown.

 

[Moogle]

Rebeka just stood. Her height made her unmissable, saving her the need to speak.

"Hmm. . . " Seiren hummed in his portly little mech, thinking about the directions. Convention floor would be more likely to be where all the hostages are held, but the other direction would be something whoever wasn't expecting. Probably. And plus, it'd mean less things to explain to Rebeka. Hopefully.

"Hey, 'Beka!" He called, moving the machine over to her. "We should take the scenic route!"

Eyes shifting between a blink, she found his form and gave an affirmative nod, broad strides following to bring her alongside the robot. She paused for a moment, looking it up and down for a moment.

"I'm surprised your robert fits inside a ship."

"It's the kinda ship made for conventions and all sorts of people, including the tall tyoes like you! And I mean, it's also supposed to fit cargo loaders and stuff so they can move all the setup easy."

"The ceilings are nicer here, aren't they" she uttered, keeping just enough distance to not be accidently trampled by the clumsy feet of the Origin frame. "You did well in a confined space."

"Well yeah! Gravitic shielding and stuff is good enough for these morons!" Seiren proudly declared.

"So what's this ship doing out here? Nobody sends a ship without anything to do."

"It's a pleasure cruise! Basically a way for people with plenty of money to spend to take a vacation. Time off from work and life and all the people they know to just be somebody else. . . metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Be somebody else? What a weird ship..." Rebeka failed to withhold something resembling a scoff.

"Don't knock it till ya try it!"

"Hmph."

Of course, Seiren could just let Luca's malfunctioning gun slide.
"This is why you don't make things without proper technical expertise to back it up!" He chided, making his Frame face the man. The LEAF waggled a finger at Luca, like a parent telling off a child.

 

[Born-On-Board]

((www.youtube.com/watch?v=a78uALZwWNE))

Red looked around behind him. Shit! This ship had become a grade A, certified clown car of assholes - where were they all coming from?

Ignoring every instinct in his mind to turn tail and run, every neuron in his body screaming to fight or flight, Redrick turned back to plundering his corpse. His only hope in this situation was that this poor asshole had been carrying another gun - getting up to find a better position would only leave him more exposed than his already hilariously vulnerable spot.

Adrenaline-numb fingers tore through pockets, even going back through the webbing. Nothing. Redrick cursed, and flipped the body over.

Tucked into the man's waistband was a SiZi 79 handgun. Redrick blinked, astonished by his sudden good fortune. He plucked the gun from the unfortunate - but well equipped - corpse. Another check of the pockets turned up two of the pistol's magazines. He noted with distaste the man had stowed the gun in his asscrack with the safety off, but this was no time to be criticizing his opponent's gun safety practices - not when he could be giving them a hands-on demonstration of being at the wrong end of the gun. A brass check revealed the golden promise of an unfired cartridge. A magazine check revealed plenty more of such promises.

It was time.

Redrick held the SiZi in a deadlock grip - pointing and firing at the gunmen as he staggered to his feet. The shots were not well-placed, but they didn't have to be - he was shooting to suppress, firing to distract. It would be Tamamo's shooting that would save them, not his.

As he fired, murderous intent overtook him. Muzzle flashes illuminated a face locked into a feral, ugly snarl. He got to his feet, and as a surprise to even himself, began to sprint, the muzzle of his handgun spitting fire and lead at his unfortunate opponents. Tamamo would only need a fraction of a second to start shooting, but it was still time that had to be purchased. If the gunmen focused on him, she could shoot at her leisure.

Who was that screaming? Redrick wondered, as he continued to shoot and run, barreling towards the gunmen faster than he thought himself capable of.

Oh.

It was him.

 

[Eistheid]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Main Convention Floor

Only one of the three shots she had made toward the last of her targets had hit, a result that she was not fond of. While the old Nepleslian man rummaged about the corpse fussing with the body from which she had been gifted her weapon, Tamamo ejected the magazine presently loaded into her rifle letting it fall as her right hand snapped out and quickly snatched up the fresh magazine on the floor.

Before the fresh magazine could settle Tamamo became weightless, drifting off of the floor before shooting up to the ceiling. She inverted smoothly along the way to land gently in a crouch, her transposition from floor to ceiling taking little more than a second.

The fresh magazine found its way into the rifle and Tamamo worked the bolt, smoothly pulling it back finishing the easy reload cycle of the nameless rifle she carried. Aiming 'up' from where she crouched Tamamo noted that her present position rendered her last target's decision to lay prone into a liability as they were now spread out for her to easily fire upon.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, something nagged at her mind, however the smooth exhale was followed by three calm shots; each targeted the middle of her escaped quarry in the centre of the back. At the end of her trio of shots, Tamamo pivoted to observe the new threats that had arrived, and noted that the old Nepleslian had acquired a firearm of his own. She watched for a second as he rushed toward the new threats firing and screaming as he charged, perhaps an attempt at suppression and intimidation.

Deciding that the newcomers were sufficiently distracted, Tamamo continued her smooth pivot before settling her sight on one of the hostiles that had been set as a door guard for the convention floor.

As she began her new round of fire, Tamamo found herself doing many things simultaneously.

First, she had become aware that she was injured. Twin points of what she identified as pain, though much greater than anything she had previously experienced gnawed at her attention even as she forced it aside, knowing that indulging the sensation would likely get her killed.

Second she plotted her next destination, aware that even with the slower reaction times of her foes she was likely to experience return fire any moment.

Lastly Tamamo broadcast a message on a wide band of frequencies, accompanied by a short clip of video displaying the old Nepleslian's charge against the newly arrived hostiles.

This is Sesshoseki-hei, I am presently in combat in the Main Convention Hall on Deck 3 of the vessel.
Enemies are presently actively engaged, however hostile reinforcements may be in transit. Requesting assistance.

At the end of the broadcast Tamamo added a snapshot of the ship's map that she had observed shortly before the pirates had assaulted the ship. Hopefully it would highlight where she was located.

She finished the broadcast as she squeezed the trigger for the final time, in her second round of three, the sixth fired from her position on the ceiling; six out of an assumed thirty.

Dropping from the ceiling, Tamamo shot through the air horizontally, toward the wall over one of the doorways, hoping to startle and outflank the guard positioned near it allowing her to fire down upon him with relative ease.