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

[Reynolds]

Shayla added the body Echelon had dropped down to the pile, making the rounds to check on the other pirates, as well as their little invading force. "I got winged, but it ain't even as bad as it looks." A few pieces of buckshot had already been pushed out of her body as the wounds tried to close up, and she idly gouged a few more out with her fingers, smearing blood everywhere. The hemosynth was already blocking up most of the holes to prevent any more waste, and the giantess seemed more irritated than injured. "You guys sure you're all good?"

As for the pirates, the few that were just unconscious received a quick dose of something from her bag that would ensure they didn't wake up at an inconvenient time, although she'd be happy to help wake one of them up if they need to be questioned. While considering what exit to take, the big Neko suddenly stood up straight, tilting her head. "...wait a sec...uh..." She seemed a bit surprised. "Anybody else get that?" She glanced at Echelon as the most likely candidate to also pick up Tamamo's transmission.

"There's a Neko with a gun in the middle of the main hall shootin' up all your pirates. Some of the hostages are rushin' 'em right now." Her eyes widened as she managed to put together the information from the video, maps and pictures, not quite used to handling all of that in her head just yet. "We gotta hurry!" Looking around, she began moving quickly towards the main hall, taking the south exit, as it seemed the most direct.

 

[Lamb]

Sexy Theatre
With the ominous stomping out of the way, Enzo felt comfortable again. That kind of stuff was for more combat-centered party members. Not wanting to be considered as 'not pulling his weight', Enzo decided he'd go ahead and take credit for killing the baddies in this room by killing the baddies in this room.

"So much for blendin' in, I guess." Enzo remarked as he drew his snub-nosed revolver in one hand and his NSP in the other. He mainly said this so that heads would turn towards him before he started blasting so that he could a better shot at that favored apricot-spot that was most easily and pleasantly messily reached in that space just above the bridge of the nose. As soon as he brought the guns up, he fired them in six alternating blasts while he had the element of surprise with his sights set right on that cherished messy head kill. Not that anyone could hear it, but while he did this, Enzo said: "Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew!"
Then, regardless of his results, Enzo vaulted over the row of chairs while cackling gleefully.

 

[Phe0n1x]

Makari holstered his gun with a playful smirk, "As you say, boss." He strode over to the knocked out squad commander and removed his helmet, weapons, and any communication system he could find before tying the squad commander to one of the barricades. Makari pulled a bottled compound out from beneath his jacket and ran it under the man's nose as his pulled out his hhg, reloaded with red shells and took a step back. He cleared his throat "you scream, you get plastered all over the barricade, floor, ceiling, and....." he paused before continuing "well, you name it and you'll be splattered all over it. I've got red shells loaded in this wonderful modern contraption and there's one with your name on it."

He continued, "Now, tell me, who do you work for and how many of you fools are on this vessel? Yall seem a bit too organized for the average pirate. And don't try lying to me. You see that suave man standing over there?"

Makari paused to motion to Luca, "you seen those Phoenix Man paraphernalia? Well, they're based on him. And one thing they don't tell you is that the real Phoenix Man has a knack for detecting a lie. When he hears a lie he gets quite angry. And when the boss is mad, my trigger finger gets a bit itchy, comprende?"

Makari motioned for the squad commander to speak he piece or be blown to bits.

 

[Sham]

Soruk kept moving forward, watching the map grow in front of him. It was a huge improvement over winging it, but he didn't like that he needed assistance to complete his task. After a few moments and another few vents covered, the gartagen frowned. The map had formed pretty well in front of him and upon closer inspection, he figured out he was going the wrong way. He quietly swore underneath his breath, calling upon Shara's wrath to burn away his misfortune.

He considered continuing ahead, ignoring the fact that he was going the wrong way. After all, Luca hadn't assigned any particular mission to him. The blademaster sighed and turned around, heading in the right direction once more, picking up his pace. That kind of thinking was lazy, which didn't appeal to the gartagen.

Some backtracking and vent shenanigans later...

He turned a corner in the ducts and found the 'end-of'the-line', a large vent hatch in front of him. He tried looking through the breaks in the metal to see if anyone was standing guard. A glance at the map told him he was in the right place, finally.

 

[Luca]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 1
The captain of the decimated pirate squad looked between the two barrels of the HHGs pointed at him - one of them was a lot longer and darker than the other, but both of them seemed pretty deadly. One of them was being wielded by, as mentioned, Captain Phoenix himself. "They have a way of dying..." Luca layered over Makari's threat to spit it out or be turned into an n-dimensional splatter.

"Gh...Galactic Armament Organisation!" The captain spat out. The name didn't ring a bell, but it gave Makari and Echelon enough of a lead to know where this was going.
"I'll look 'em up," Echelon said, staring at the walls as she was absorbed in thought for a few brief moments. They blinked at empty space a few times. "JUST 4 S3C..."

Luca kept his aim steady on the captain - two people intimidating would be better than one. "That's just a name. What's in a name?" Luca asked, waving his gun, finger on trigger.

"I'm not getting much information." Echelon shrugged, grinning a little in Luca's direction knowing what'd happen next. Luca took his finger off of the trigger, pulled the hammer into a safe position and held up his gun - looking like he was staying away. The GAO captain seemed to look between the two gunmen, eyes searching them for what was going on.

A crack of knuckles and a sudden forehand strike from the handgrip of Luca's HHG strong enough to knock their helmet off of their head in two pieces with an almighty whack, revealing the face of a bald man with a cybernetic right eye, an organic blue left eye, and the facial features of a thug - rough, scarred, heavy browed and pale enough to be mistaken as a dollop of rotten sour cream at a distance - which was developing a lovely bruise.

Luca marvelled at how much force was behind his strike all the sudden, flexing his fingers against the handgrip of his pistol before pointing the business end back down at the GAO captain. "Now spit it out before I do some creative dentistry." In the back of his mind, he was dumbfounded by his newfound strength. Huh. That Minkan body thing from Jimothi is really working a wonder.

A piece of the helmet clattered against Aiesu's feet, now curiously examining Luca. He still looked the same as ever - definitely smelt the same too, she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"A-alright, there's about, uh," the GAO squad leader, now developing a lovely bruise on their right temple to examine just how much damage these guys had done, "forty, forty of us, most of us keeping an eye on the hostages, but the rest of us are on the bridge - try as you might, you won't get past Breaker and Mr. Lizard Man working together. They'll wreck your shit together between his gun and her hammer."

"Would you listen to that - they have names!" Luca announced to his team, giddy at the fact there there was someone of nominal importance to worry about all the sudden. "That already means they're more threatening than these sorry idiots, I mean, look at him!" He pointed to the red stain where one of the men Seiren gunned down was. "He had no name and now he's dead! Didn't even get last words!"

Echelon seemed to go upright, but not for Luca's off-colour outburst. "Hey, hear that?"
"Hear what?" Luca asked.

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.

♫ Daft Punk - Superheroes ♫

Luca sheathed his HHG, looked down at the GAO squad leader, glanced back to Makari, mumbled something along the lines of "sorry I'll buy you a pint after this" and gave the GAO squad leader a right punch to the face, knocking them out for good as they fell to the ground. "Let's move! Tongue slide, pronto!"

He sprinted off ahead, passing under the sign that lead to the 'Tongue Slide' with Shayla. Whatever that entailed, it sounded like something only some sort of perverse weirdo would like.
"H-H3Y W4IT F0R US!" Echelon yelled as Luca went ahead, screaming a digitised expletive.


Fruna Ruica, Maintenance Passages and Crawlspace near the Bridge
Soruk peered through the hatch into a T-intersection near the bridge. He could spot three armoured men that looked similar to the ones he saw Luca and company fighting with assault rifles, and itchy trigger fingers. They'd heard that someone was trying to get out, and were on alert, their rifles pointing where their eyes were too, and covering each other's backs so nobody unwanted got into the Bridge.

And Soruk was too far off centre to leap into the middle of them and knife them all with one flourish, but a leap of faith and some misdirection could seize the day - but a phase of planning was interrupted when one of the GAO Pirate's radios crackled to life.

"I've spotted an unidentified power armour on the cameras, and it's is heading your way from the hotels." Their radios buzzed from afar, one of them "I'm sending someone out of the Bridge with APA weaponry."
"Understood. Bring him over."

When Soruk looked through the walls and at the Map, he saw Zeta's IFF come up some stairs and make a beeline for the bridge. One of the doors to the bridge opened and closed quickly, with someone carrying a modified M'Cel with a stock, foregrip and an iron sight, extending the whole object into a more robust platform for armour destruction on a budget.

Thankfully, not one of them looked up but one of the soldiers, plus the APA soldier were looking intently down where Zeta was coming from while the other two covered the other two directions. Then, a bleeding Freespacer with a head full of wires and the logo of the GAO on their side came running towards them yelling: "Open up, quick! I need to finis these interlopers off!"

Distraction...


Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Main Convention Floor
One of the things Red was forced to take a ride on at one point during one of his breaks here on the Fruna Ruica was the 'Tongue Slide' that was installed for this convention that went from Deck 1 to the middle of the convention floor 3. It was a strange and distasteful thing, that mostly fed into the fantasies of some of the perverted convention goers - and some of the jokesters had poured personal lubricant all over it once or twice. All it was to Red right now was cover.

A cacophony of gunshots and the blue blur of a Tamamo flying towards the ceiling as improperly-lead shots tried to go after her. She was granted a vantage point 'up' on her targets - and she could see another man behind the new arrivals from the theatre, vaulting over chairs with a pair of guns - a Nepleslian in a brown overcoat, firing an NSP and a snubby revolver.

One of the advancing enemies, the Yamataian soldier found their head fried by a pulse of scalar energy and fell forward, very much dead while other scalar bursts and revolver shots flew through the air, forcing the advancing group to pin down and about face. Another guard, the Lorath was struck in the side a few times by Red's suppressing pistol burst as they were turning around, falling to the ground. All sixteen cartridges were fired and the slide locked open, begging for a new magazine. Enzo, meanwhile heard shots wizz over his head - but they were definitely aimed at those bloody pirates.

Wire Head escaped with a graze through the door to the Fore and started sprinting towards the Bridge to assume control, cursing that the expendables were doing a good job serving as a warning to others.

Looking a little further down and closer to her horizon, she noticed that the second level balconies were occupied by a bulk of the convention goers who were lying on the ground and restrained - mostly the ship's staff and crew rather than the convention goers down below. The Port and Starboard entrances to the second level barricaded shut by desks and chairs that were used for talks, and one guard covering each exit and telling people to stay down.

Looking 'down' however, where the cavity was for the mouth of the Tongue Slide on Deck 1, Tamamo could see two things: an unfamiliar and well armed pair of pants and boots, and the physique of a very strong-looking woman's legs and feet. The unfamiliar pants and boots vaulted over the railings mumbling something along the lines of "Nope I am not going down there - too slow and I have to kill fast" and falling upwards and upside down to her point of view, chuckling.

Shayla meanwhile was looking down at the convention floor, and at the blue Nekovalkyrja who was shooting back down to the floor and trying to gun one of the GAO pirates down who was guarding the door, bullets flying through the air at a guard defending the door that lead to the Fore of the ship, or in Luca's compass, West.

As Luca dropped down, he made a whipping motion with his right arm and the Grapplegun came leaping forth from it, attaching to a part of the ceiling and making Luca's path of entry pivot and fly boots-first into another door guard who was trying to keep Starboard under control, or from Luca's perspective North. Tamamo and Red could see him smash the crap out of the Pirate with his bare fists, then standing up, pivoting, firing his grapnel at the underside of the Starboard-facing balcony, swung upwards onto it and fired at the guard keeping an eye on the starboard entrance with custom HHG, planting three shots into them, swivelling around and taking aim at the guard covering the port side door - gunning them, and then reloading with a moon clip of custom .460 WHITE ammunition in a smooth motion.

According to the deck plan, the Bridge was in the Fore of the Fruna Ruica, and Luca anticipated the worst resistance would come from there. He turned around to yell down "Barricade the door to the Fore on Deck 3 with something while you've got the chance, and get the con-goers to the sides of the room and into the booths for cover!" Luca yelled after he raised his arm to get Red and Tamamo's attention. "Someone's coming and I've really pissed them off!"

Some of the con-goers began wriggling towards the sides of the room in their restraints, while others stood up and others floated up with the power of Yamataian gravity manipulation. Others, however seemed to be unable to move, and writhed in place helplessly.

(Note: A Map will come soon for this area. Watch this space!)

Fruna Ruica, Deck 4, Hotel Rooms
The Separa'shan locked the door behind him and slithered onto the bed with the rifle, being their own blanket and watching the door nervously, rifle shaking in his hands.

"I like being my own blanket..." he sighed.

 

[miss_story]

Reeves' small voice quieted as the map of his surroundings was projected before him. A nervous smile crossed his lips. His cybernetic eye whirred softly as it refocused on the close image that was tracking the location of the rest of the crew. There were definite perks to having more than one tech savvy person around. They seemed to be pleasantly consistent in coming up with new useful things to dazzle him with. It was a constant reminder that he had so far to go and so much to learn.

Passing one of the many ports and maintenance panels. Reeves resisted the temptation to plug into one and so he could learn more about this class of ship. Unfortunately at this time he had a feeling that control of the bridge might be required sooner rather than later.

When he began to near the bridge he paused to gather his courage before resuming his crawling at a slower quieter rate than before so he could avoid drawing the attention of any current occupants of the bridge. His fingers traced the edge of the passage, where the inner blast doors would shoot up to seal off the bridge in the case of a lock out. Thankfully that wasn't the case right now. He didn't have the time or the proper tools to bypass such a measure. from this side of the doors. Crawling farther he held his breath taking a moment to peer through the ventilation grating in the maintenance hatch. The bridge was about as big as he expected. The breath was holding slowly leaked from his nose when he realized it wasn't empty. Two men were inside, one appearing to be a hostage of some kind.

He wasn't sure what the smartest thing to do was. In a situation like this he wished he had more courage than most of the other people on the Phoenix. Reeves drew his borrowed Fatboy flipping the safety off.

In a fluid motion he pushed the hatch open and took cover behind one of the chairs in the bridge. His weapon was gripped tightly in his hand and trained on the unrestrained individual. "Move a muscle and I'll blast you full of holes." He said through gritted teeth trying his best not to appear as nervous as he felt. Reeves adjusted his posture so the butt of the gun was resting against his shoulder for support. His finger rested on the trigger ready to squeeze it.

 

[Born-On-Board]

Red's pell-mell charge ended with him slamming into the Tongue, practically tripping onto it, landing onto the slickly lubricated surface back first and sliding back down to the deck in an unceremonious heap. Surprisingly, he had hit the Lorath gunwoman several times, and, thanks to the aid of yet unseen people (Redrick had heard something about 'pissing people off', 'move the hostages', and 'barricade the doors', all things he would get to later) he had ended his mad sprint with his body intact.

Perfect. Already a step ahead.

He ejected the magazine of his SiZi, the empty chrome rectangle laying useless on his chest. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for one of the fresh mags he'd taken from Gregory Asshole (not his name) a few moments ago. Adrenaline numb fingers fumbled a little, eventually slamming the mag home and releasing the slide. A brass check confirmed that, yes, the pistol was loaded.

Red closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He exhaled, opened his eyes, and stood up again. The empy magazine resting on his chest clattered to the floor, forgotten and un-needed.

The Lorath woman, hit several times but not killed outright, spit at him, the spittle mixing with the blood pooling beneath her.

"I feel the same way about you." Redrick said, oddly serene, and shot her in the eye. The 9mm bullet ended her worldly concerns in an ugly red-gray spray of brain matter and blood.

Redrick stepped around the tongue, holding his pistol in tight, confident, two-handed grip, looking for the last gunman. One had escaped. The Yamtaian was dead, irrevocably so; and he had just seen to the Lorath woman. That left one man.

And really, what was another one?

The remaining pirate hadn't seemed to expect this level of violence - in mere seconds, his companions had either fled or been cut down. One second, a functioning, sapient being, the next - nothing but bits and meat. Redrick felt no pity for him.

He lined up his sights, like a man shooting bench at the range and fired, once, twice, three times. The gunman jerked, jumped several times, like he'd been spooked, startled, and dropped to the floor, sitting down hard. His torso flopped backwards, and the gunman's head made an odd, hollow-coconut sound as it bounced on the deck.

Redrick wiped the mixture of blood and sweat from his face. Adrenaline seemed to drain out of him - he felt cold. He suddenly had to pee. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. In a gesture he couldn't entirely explain, he threw the SiZi at the prone corpse, with a loud,

"Gah! Shit!"

He took a few breaths to calm down, and limped over to the corpse, kicking it in the head. He bent over, picked up the handgun he threw, flicked the safety on, and tucked the weapon into his waistband. This fight was over, and for now, the convention floor was under their control once more.

 

[Lamb]

"Nice, nice. Good shooting. Lacks a lil' flairs, no showmanship, but hey-- all da bads guys is dead." Enzo holstered his weapons to clap his hands as he waltzed into the center of the convention floor. The conman's steps were light and graceful, his movement conducted with poise. It seemed planned, the way he didn't even have to break his gait to step over one corpse or another. This was that supposed showmanship.

"Speakin' of showmanships, tho: I gotta wonder..." Enzo started, planting one hand on his hip and the other under his chin in the pose of a thoughtful person who might have some complex thoughts about politics or galactic economics. "Why's yous guys playin' off-script?"

 

[Born-On-Board]

Redrick didn't initially have a response to the foppish, greasy conman's (for what else could he be dressed like that) compliments. All he could really do is shrug. What was there to say? He'd killed the other guy before he got killed in turn. Hell, he'd done it a couple times today, and none of it could be described as precision shooting, but, he allowed himself one small point of pride.

"I'm too old for this shit." Redrick wheezed, his age betraying him. "I killed about three people today, and I either did 'em in barehanded or with their own guns. Flair and showmanship has been a secondary concern since I had to stop cooking and start shooting."

He joined the strangely dressed, but not hostile man at the center of the convention floor, still in a haze from the sudden adrenaline withdrawal. The man assumed an intellectually enlightened pose (though Redrick seriously doubted his educational credentials, if he even had any) and asked a question in a decidedly Nepleslian accent.

"Speakin' of showmanships, though; I gotta wonder... Why's yous guys playin' off-script?"

Redrick blinked.

"You seriously gonna ask me that? Look man, you wanna sit around and wait for some two-bit gunman with a power complex to slip you the dick, or do you want to do the fucking? There's no telling what some asshole with a gun will do to you if he thinks he can get away with it." Redrick held his hands out in a 'help me out here' gesture. "I was bound up next to a genuine Nekovalkyrja the guards had overlooked. I saw an opportunity to make life harder for them, she agreed to participate, and we took it. If you wanna talk to her, I think she's floating up on the ceiling somewhere."

 

[Eistheid]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Main Convention Floor

After her message had sent it became quickly apparent that her attempted communication had reached a helpful party of some sort. As she finished off her latest quarry with a trio up 'upward' shots she noted many things occurring in her peripheral.

The first even of note was a new arrival that seemed to follow the hostiles that had emerged from one of the adjoining rooms to the main convention hall. They seemed from what she could tell like a Nepleslian garbed in some sort of brightly coloured sleeveless suit, bare arms ended in leather gloved hands that held a pistol of some make, and what she recognized as an older NSP model.

Soon enough this new arrival's shots were mixed in with those of the old Nepleslian man, leaving the pirates that had arrived as reinforcements trapped between two lethal threats quickly mitigating what little advantage their numbers had afforded them.

The first of the three went down as a result of the NSP's scalar fire, relatively clean death marked by the flailing of the man's body propagating downward as the nervous system reacted to the sudden discharge. The second hostile one that appeared to be a Lorath of some sort was struck by the old Nepleslian's pistol fire causing small blooms of crimson before they too crumpled to the floor of the convention hall.

About to turn her focus to the pirates that occupied the raised balcony area of the main convention area, Tamamo was startled and distracted by a new arrival, another man, that announced them-self before vaulting into the room and falling 'up' toward the floor. Continuing to watch the odd entry she was momentarily confused as to why he seemed to be laughing almost to the point of nearly missing the activation of some sort of device that fired an anchoring line to the ceiling leading to the man colliding boots first with one of the dwindling hostiles.

Her confusion only grew as the man seemed to be content to hammer on his foe with his fists despite being well armed for a moment before changing his focus and firing the line once more to move up to the balcony area where he proceeded to gun down the two guards she had intended on dispatching herself.

At some point during the spectacle it seemed that the last of the hostiles near the old Nepleslian man and his help had been eliminated, though Tamamo hadn't managed to catch the exact end of the encounter. She paused taking note that it was becoming increasingly difficult to retain her focus, the twin points of pain in her chest had become much more than she had anticipated. Perhaps the pain had grown in intensity to its new overwhelming level, or perhaps she was failing to keep it properly suppressed. She didn't know any longer.

As the man with the anchoring line began to issue orders to the room Tamamo blinked once before shooting down from her elevated location shifting as she moved to land a few feet away from the man. As she landed she swayed, a wet sound meeting her ears as bright red hemosynth spattered against the floor. Unsteady for longer than she liked she finally managed to straighten after a few seconds to properly bow and address the man she assumed was an officer.

"Sesshoseki-hei reporting. Please forgive my rude indiscretion.. But would you happen to know where I might obtain food?" She spoke in a tone that would have been considered peppy, though it clearly didn't suit her voice. As well the attempt at a bright tone did little to mask the pain in her voice presenting itself as a slight wavering and a clear hint of strain. After a moment's hesitation she added, "If no food is available, may I have permission to feed?"

As she awaited the reply of the possible officer she overheard some banter, one of the voices belonging to the old Nepleslian, and the other belonging to someone she did not recognize, though from the words she caught they were speaking of sex or anatomy of some variety. Not something to worry about.

 

[Lamb]

"Yeah, real fancy." Enzo remarked to Redrick as the genuine Nekovalkyrja in question made her way up to the two of them. He eyed her up and down with a certain hunger of his own developing before throwing a wide arm to the gore around them.

"Hey, honey, don't be shy now-- " This sweeping gesture crossed a few of the more choice corpses, "Hit the buffet. Personally, I prefers to grab a thigh or a forearm; but yous never know what you'll find in a nice calf."

Enzo turned back to Redrick at this point looking smug and proud. He seemed overall pleased with himself and the situation; but also somehow approving of Redrick. His confident smirk seemed to say, 'Nice old-man act, old man.' Just to cement that Red was dealing with the worst sort of person, Enzo took a second to wink. Like a total creeper.

 

[Moogle]

Seiren's LEAF pushed through the halls of the Fruna Ruica, taking that scenic detour of shops and stalls to the convention floor rather than the rather suggestive sounding tongue-slide. The little Frame had its gun at the ready in case of pirates, but it seemed that this area was abandoned for the time being.

Alongside the plodding LEAF, Rebeka took careful steps: her gaze swept over the walls from side to side. The sound of bickering caught her long ears as she glanced back at the LEAF.

"What do you think you're doing?!" a high-pitched voice called out -- a figure sat against the backpack of the machine, glancing up over the head.

"I'm TRYING to drive here!" Seiren snapped back.

"So its true what they say about men" the voice snapped back. Aiesu.

Exactly what it is they say about men wasn't something Rebeka was privvy to. Turning her head about: walking backward for a moment, she took in this strange sight.

"You're sitting on the BUCKLE! Not my fault you don't know how mechs work!"

"I think she means the autobalancer..." Rebeka said after a long long pause.

"More like the lack of it" Aiesu spat.

"I have zesu plate on an aether generator, the weight's gonna be a BIT OFF!"

"Only an IDIOT would muck up the weighting on a platform MADE for EVADING hits."

"This isn't an avoiding type-of-frame! otherwise, it'd have better thrusters!"

"They ALL are!" she shouted back. "Don't you know ANYTHING!?"

"Do you know what a TANK is?"

"Antiquainted. Slow. Vulnerable."

"And heavily protected!"

Rebeka held up a hand, signalling to the two as she froze in place. Raising her hand-cannon, she skimmed the deck with her gaze once more. Cautious steps drove her forward as she motioned again for the frame to wait further back.. Plodding forward now. She knelt down slowly, noting something they hadn't spotted, following it with great care to the wall.

Delicately, she reached to her side, withdrawing a knife easily the length of Seiren's arm: feathering it with care against sometihng suspended in the air at knee height... Finally, following her almost violin like motions, she sunk her fingers onto the thing on the wall and marched back to the frame. She rolled it in her hands, unsure what to make of it before holding it aloft, presenting it where Seiren could see it.

"Ah, good job! I wouldna seen that! And NO AMOUNT OF SPEED would have helped me there!" Seiren cattishly said, directing his negativity at Aiesu.

"What's the payload?" Aiesu sourly grumbled.

"I dunno. This just looks like the casing or device. Not sure which. I mean, obviously it's gonna be dangerous since there's a wire on it, but. . ."

"What? You don't have all the answers?" Aiesu spat. "My guess its a WN33. Its a popular use of Nepleslian explosives."

"What does the serial number matter so long as you know it goes boom?"

Rebeka pondered, slowly standing to her feet.

"A persons choices tell you a lot about them."

"But we already know who the people we're fighting are. They're pirates."

"And now we know them better."

The Sourcian seemed particularly determined. Almost proud of her words.

"A-ah, I see what you did there. . ."

"Now you've got her watching garbage?"

"So, um, how about the other half of that wire?"

"It doesn't want to come off the wall. I think if I try pulling it, it'll go off."

"Hm. .. I really wish we had that freespacer with us. She coulda disarmed it easy, probably."

"She's a Freespacer. Of course she could" Aiesu said in a matter of factly way as if Seiren were an idiot.

Rebeka bent down again. She took her knife, carefully easing it against the wall.

"What, you're jealous, is that it?" Aiesu quizzed quietly to herself. On paper, Freespacers and Sourcians had a lot in common. On paper. "Uugh... Don't try to be a hero.."

"I mean, I said that because she was a trained demolitionist. But she ain't around right now, so. . . I guess be careful, 'Beka!"

The pale woman's head snapped about, eyes focused... In a swift twist of her knife, she pulled the casing out... Along with a fairly sizable portion of the wall.

". . . Let's just. . . find an airlock to jettison that, huh?"

Rebeka gave a nod, moving her hands along the wall... She soon found a gap she found satisfactory: pulling a large silvery door open, dropping the thing inside. Sealing the door, she once again seemed particularly proud of herself. It was a subtle thing Seiren had picked up on: a change in her body language: More free and flowing, even if her expression didn't change.

Aiesu squinted. "Wait... Did you know there was an airlock on this level? Was it on the deckplan during the briefing? I thought she couldn't read" Aiesu was impressed.

Seiren facepalmed.

"Rebeka, we're gonna have to talk about consequence later, alright? Consequence. . . and how airlocks are generally not that long. . ."

"...Then where did it go?" Aiesu quizzed.

"Well, there's an image of panties over the little door, so I can take one guess. . ."

"Aaah ...She /can't/ read."

"Yes, thank you captain obvious."

"Rebeka, Rebeka!" Aiesu called, trying not to laugh.

The Sourcian nodded up at the frame.

The L'manel riding with Seiren extended her thumb.

"Good job!"

 

[Reynolds]

By the time Shayla arrived, Luca was well on his way to clearing out the few remaining guards that the two escaped prisoners hadn't yet dealt with. The giant Neko made her way to the first hostage she saw that seemed in fairly good health and with minimal restraints in the way. Knives made from bits of metal with wood handles and hide wrappings were produced, freeing the hostage before handing the tools over. "Here, get the next guy, then give one of those to him, then keep goin'!" She gestured to the next closest prisoner, then to the many that were too tied up or injured to wriggle into cover as Luca started directing traffic.

With that out of the way, she could finally hunt down that Neko whose broadcast she'd picked up earlier. She followed the unknown female voice to its source, as the male voice was easy to pick out as the older guy arguing with Enzo. The tiny little thing was wobbling about and bleeding everywhere, looking ready to pass out at any moment. "She ain't got time to eat, much less time to digest." She shouted to add herself to the conversation, as she rapidly approached the group. Her trained eyes had the situation appraised even before she reached them. "Lost a lotta blood, her body's tellin' her to input somethin' it can turn into more." The giantess grinned down at the blue Neko that was almost two feet shorter than her, Shayla's own torso dotted with oozing wounds from the earlier spray of buckshot, although she didn't seem to care. "Shoi Ronald McBelle Jr., retired. You're gonna be alright, Sesshoseki-Hei. Just let me get ya patched up before round two starts."

Shayla worked quickly, tearing the Neko's ruined uniform jacket out of the way to get to her wounds, tossing the soaked garment aside. The Hei was headed for the floor, next...either forced or guided down, depending on how cooperative she was. With her touch, the veteran telepathically transmitted data that should calm the other Neko and help soothe any worries she might have. Things like her name, rank and other pertinent Star Army info from before she retired, along with the names and 'ranks' of her rescuers, popping up above their heads in Tamamo's vision. "Alright, no time for the fancy stuff, just gotta get you fueled up and then stop it from leakin' back out again!" She barked a laugh before going to work.

Neko were incredibly easily to heal, thankfully. The fact that Tamamo had been moving and fighting so well while ignoring her injuries was a credit to their impressive design. The barbarian doctor simply injected her with more hemosynth, healing blood, hopefully enough to replace what had been lost and then some. After that, she just needed to close the wounds and get the Neko fighting. A thick layer of Emrys Industries Liquid Bandage would basically glue the wounds shut, and a bandage wrapping on top couldn't hurt. Might help keep the wounds from opening up if she hopped around too fast, plus kept her a bit more decent. Then she just shot her full of something to dull the pain enough for her to get back on her feet.

Which Shayla was happy to help her do, once the now-bandaged Neko was ready. "Alright, on your feet, kid. We're gonna have company real soon. If the meds start makin' you too fuzzy, purge 'em, once you're sure you can block the pain good enough." She had been focused during the work, but now she was grinning again, even as she wiped her hands clean on Tamamo's poor, discarded uniform before rising to prepare for the next wave of pirates.

 

[Eistheid]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Main Convention Floor

She had been fidgeting slightly, her attention affixed on the one she had identified as the Commanding Officer of the force that had disrupted the Pirate operations aboard the Fruna Ruica when a new voice joined those of the others startling Tamamo slightly in her increasingly foggy state of mind. Turning her attention to the strangely huge woman that had arrived Tamamo frowned slightly at the new shape as her wide dark jade eyes drank in the new figure.

She was too large to be a Neko, though the ears seemed to indicate it otherwise being of a familiar elfin phenotype. The possible Neko's observation seemed to be somewhat accurate, however Tamamo had been hungry before she had been shot twice in the chest, and was of the opinion that she wouldn't have bled so much had she not been starving. Noting the minor wounds decorating the muscular tanned form of this new form as they introduced them-self as a retired Shoi, and apparently someone trained medically.

Tamamo noted dully that her shirt was torn away by large powerful hands, the confirmed scale settling in her dazed mind making Tamamo wonder if the former Shoi was an experimental Nekovalkyrja variant of some kind. Guided to the ground Tamamo found she didn't have the energy to complain and was soon laying there fairly complacently, a thing that when noted made Tamamo's mind surge with a new rush of activity returning her to crystalline lucidity just in time to begin receiving a steady influx of new data.

Learning a little of the past of the figure that tended to her as well as the figure she had singled out as the Commander, a Luca Pavone, a name that meant as little to her as the figure himself apart from his association with rescue and not being tied up under the watch of Pirates. Of more interest to Tamamo was the note that unlike what she had assumed, they were not some sort of covert element of the Star Army, nor were they aligned with any particular government. Independents, a topic that had been much derided by the training staff she had been under and in their own way a new opportunity.

The laugh and the unfamiliar terminology relating to medical procedures sounding more like what what might do to fix a leaking fuel cell on a ship rather than fixing an organic system was confusing and left Tamamo furrowing her brow slightly. Distracting her from her slight confusion was a pleasant rush that she quickly identified as fresh hemosynth did much to dull the throbbing pain as her body was better able to allocate resources to fix itself rather than remain in a state that was nearly inoperable.

A cool sensation that she identified as a liquid bandage, followed by a tightness as she was guided up to be wrapped in a more solid parallel left her feeling fairly content with her situation. Complying and returning to her feet, her firearm once again securely in her grasp Tamamo bowed deeply to the former Shoi and spoke in the peppy tone that clashed with her voice, though with much of the pain and unsteadiness gone, "Thank you for your aid McBelle," She hesitated uncertain how the choice of referral would go over the lack of honorifics in Trade leaving her a little lost, "If I am to partake in the battle to come at optimal levels, I will still require food. I have not eaten in fourteen hours and fifty-three minutes, as such I am well beyond the intended parameters for my model. At present I can only function optimally for approximately two minutes."

Looking over to the Old Nepleslian Man and his Bright Nepleslian Companion she added, "The elderly Nepleslian that aided me requires medical attention more than I did, I am certain he would appreciate the aid." Re-affixing her gaze on the one that had been identified as 'Luca Pavone' she awaited the verdict on her food situation.

 

[Phe0n1x]

Makari paused to frown at the unconscious captain. He really had wanted to make the guy fly into chunks simply because it was a space pirate. But, he couldn't in good conscious kill a knocked out man. So he put his HHG away and pulled out his shiny new Lorath Hand Canons and ran off after Luca and Shayla expecting some resistance.

Unfortunately for Makari, Luca had something he did not: mobility. Lacking rocket boots and a grappling hook, he looked around: take the stairs or slide down through some goop and lube. He gave it a half second thought before posing as he slide down the tongue slide and its goop. If you're going to do something totally nasty, might as well do it in style, right?

He readied himself for whatever could be down there, if there was anything left to take down with Luca running point. He thought his time would be best spent covering Shayla and the ex-prisoners.

 

[Sham]

Soruk frowned initially at the sight of the guards, aware of their surroundings and checking all the corners. They certainly weren't making it easy on him. He started formulating a plan to take them out when the situation started to change. He noted Zeta getting closer and the pirates promptly responding with bigger guns. At least their focus was directed away from him.

He reached back into his waist pouches, bringing out a single golf-ball sized metal ball and a few marble sized ones. When the pirates turned to face their noisy companion, he cracked the vent open, tossing his assortment of explosives out. After a second, the bigger one started spitting out bright orange smoke. The marble ones didn't seem to do anything, but in actuality had emitted a small EMP burst. The blademaster hoped to take their radios offline at the very least.

After a decent amount of smoke had started to spill out, the gartagen popped his hatch open, dropping behind the lone pirate farthest from the 'distraction'. One Rura flashed out, burying itself into his neck while the other hand covered any noise the dying pirate might make...

 

[ShotJon]

Zeta moved forward for the bridge. She had her gatling in the hands. With carpets laying everywhere, she could move fairly silent even in her armour, though there were sensors on the ship, so the enemy was bound to know about her. So that was why she moved carefully, not just charing headlong, ready to blast any of the pirates to nothingness.

 

[Luca]

Fruna Ruica, Main Convention Floor
"Uh, permission granted?" Luca said, a little confused by what Tamamo had meant by 'feeding'. He lowered his gun and fossicked through his top pocket for a six inch long, one and a half inch wide, half-inch thick ration bar. The sort used to snack on during a long march, even though marching was a non-existent thing now - it was more like floating.

He tossed the ration bar down to the injured soldier's feet. It hadn't been opened, and picture of a happy cat on it with fish and chilli told Tamamo that it was spiced fish and rice flavoured. Luca had meant to order beef and gravy flavoured ration bars, but a shipping mixup meant that he was sent hundreds of spiced fish and rice bars instead. The company apologised by letting his next bulk order come for free.

I wonder who put that in my pocket anyway? Luca wondered to himself. Maybe Vita was playing an ultimately harmless prank on him again.

Makari, covered from boots to hat with gunk as he landed in a pool of commercial-grade body lotion was able to assist the hostages who were tied with cable ties and unable to move themselves. Shayla was also ripping bonds apart with her strength.

Some grumbles were to be had from those being rescued because some of that gear was very high quality, but their lives were more important than a rubber harness that could immobilise someone absolutely with the twist of a knob. The cut of a knife was better than the twist of a knob for Makari and Shayla's needs.

Soon, the convention floor was clear, and the freed hostages who'd untied themselves, or been untied were untying and rescue those who couldn't help themselves. Luca, Shayla, Tamamo, Redmond and Enzo were together in the convention area, standing and sporting killer looks. Lovers and fighters, but mostly fighters here in this instance, or a lover of fighting in Luca's case.

Above them, Melissa could be heard getting set up, putting her rifle on the railing of the first floor walkway that lead to the slide and swapping magazines. "Which way 're they gonna come from? I've got two vantage points," She reported from above. "A narrow field 'a vertical view, an exposed flank covered by Ech and a... uh," She looked at the giant tongue lolling on the floor, then at the teeth and the uvula and shivered. "Y'know, I'd rather get meself shot at than take that down."

"You know M3L1SS4," Echelon said, "Ally would have LOVED to take that slide down over and over again, naked."
"...geh, don't remind me." Melissa pulled her baseball cap down over her eyes so Echelon couldn't see the disgust on her face. "I nearly walked in on 'er back at the hotel."

Then there was a knock on the door a few steps behind Luca.

♫ Lazerhawk - King of the Streets ♫

He raised an eyebrow, raised his gun to eye level and focussed on the door.

And by knock, one of the hinges broke off and the screws came tumbling to his feet while some of the barricade made by the pirates previously fell apart, folding chairs and displays and 'statues' falling down. There was another knock and Luca could see the business end of a very, very large hammer. Unwilling to put up with the interference for longer, Luca fired - the bullet went through the door and he heard a clank on the other end and the hammer retreated.

"Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin..." Luca whistled as he backed away into the rail. He heard silence for a few moments followed by what sounded like a raging bull from behind the door, so angry that he could hear it from twenty feet away from the door, and whatever distance the bull was from it.

RRRRRRRRRRAAA *tromp* AAA *tromp* AAA *tromp* AAA *tromp* AAA *tromp* AAA *tromp* AAA *tromp* AAARRRRRRRGH!

Luca wondered for a moment if he'd just signed another one of those death warrants of his. His grin went from ear to ear as he knew that someone with some personality was about to show up and break shit. "Come on, this little piggy's got more lead than Nepleslia!"


Fruna Ruica, Outside the Bridge, Deck 3
Things were coming together in that way which made everything go kablooey, one way or the other in time. EMP charges could be felt by non cyborgs who had fillings in their mouth by that intense pain and that whine. Cyborgs, of course would feel it a lot harder: One of the soldiers' arms suddenly went limp, they dropped their gun and yelled something about a marble on the floor causing a numb arm while everyone's radios whined and fizzled into static, causing them to examine their equipment for a moment.

The Type 3 Freespacer who was amongst them and yelled something along the line of "oh no, marbles!" before they fell face down on the floor, completely blatted by the EMP waves at his feet, and probably needed to be turned off and turned back on until he was fit to function. All those loose connections in their dreadlocks were excellent conductors.

"Wirehead, what the hell?" One of the Pirates yelled as they knelt down to attend to them.

However, the waves of EMP were hitting friendlies too - Soruk, Reeves, and Zeta disappeared off of the information webwork that Echelon had set up. The orange smoke certainly wasn't going to help for visibility either. Soruk, however had everything marked, and with a flash of a Rura, sent it plunging into the 'apricot' of a pirate's neck - the sweet spot in the back of it. The pirate who was attending to Wirehead amongst the smoke heard the sound of someone falling and yelled "Who's there? Why aren't the doors opening?"

Hearing the smoke pouring out from behind them, the launcher-wielding pirate started moving forward with his friend, and kept on moving slowly with the launcher raised while his friend started firing at the corner to suppress Zeta. Her careful plan of attack let her avoid the worst of it and she saw bullets fly through the intersection and into the wall. The two advancing attackers then stopped moving - there was a minimum safe distance for the launcher's projectile to work properly - and he hadn't shot it off yet.


Fruna Ruica, Inside the Bridge, Deck 3
The pirate Reeves spotted was trying to get the door open, and making sense of the things that were happening. Their attention was divided between all of the radios in his half of the room facing out going dead, and this kid who leapt in through one of the vents with a Fatboy.

Reeves couldn't see the one other individual in the room through his vantage point, but they were looking carefully at the hostage situation that was starting to unfold. The confusion of the situation in the hallway had divided their attention. Equipment was malfunctioning, strange things were happening - their aces in the hole still needed to be fielded though.

"No sudden movements!" One of the pirates yelled, pointing their rifle at Reeves.
"Who are you bastards anyway?" The other previously unseen pirate yelled too as he tried to get the door open, but all of the instruments had been knocked out.

Things were starting to get tense, the atmosphere thickening as the restrained captain of the Fruna Ruica's eyes were looking both between her captors and the pale person who'd come to rescue them. She was expecting someone a little taller, but any help was good help. "Oh my god, It's the ISC Phoenix!" She smiled. "Quick, take them all out, now!"


Fruna Ruica, Food Court, Deck 2
Seiren, Rebeka, and Aiesu were taking the long way around. The food court was filled with half-eaten foods, backpacks and satchels containing the contents of the hastily escorted guests of the cruise, and so much unattended food behind the counter and in the heater compartments that was being kept warm - there for the taking.

They didn't have far to go before a door lead them to the balcony that lead them in through the Aft side, and to their right they could see Luca aiming at a door while they could hear the sound of rushing power armour footsteps and a yelling Fyunnen battlecry, but from around a corner - and ahead of them, Luca saying something sardonic about Nepleslia, lead and piggies.

♫ Lightning Bolt - 30000 Monkeys ♫

A few moments later, though, a muffled explosion could be heard and a hole was blown in one of the walls of Deck 3 that faced the Starboard, leading out into the Convention Floor and showering the room in burning hot (figuratively and literally) underwear and discarded garments. Tamamo, Makari, Shayla, Enzo and Red found themselves suddenly wading in quantum disentangled, volumetric unscaled panties - and lots and lots of them - I mean, it's at least knee deep! How'd that many fit there!? Is this what drives technology discovery now!? Efficient volumetric compression and displacement of panties!?

Some of the convention goers found themselves buried under the tsunami of underwear and some complaints could be heard, but others were practically giggling with perverse glee as they were surrounded by plentiful pants and other clothing.


Fruna Ruica, Deck 4, Hotel Rooms
The Separa'shan liked being their own blanket so much that they fell asleep peacefully, door locked tight.

They heard an explosion somewhere in the ship and snorted themselves awake, then looked around shrugged and tried to get back to sleep. They've got it under control...

 

[Eistheid]

Fruna Ruica, Deck 3, Main Convention Floor

With her permission to feed granted and the amount of time to proceed unknown Tamamo started to move almost instantly. Picking up the ration bar with her toes as she passed, her uniform's shoes having been lost long ago, Tamamo easily passed it up to her hands before continuing her purposeful stride toward the door where the third of her target's still lay in a small pool of blood. Flipping the body over easily, Tamamo ignored the quiet pained noise before quickly setting about pilfering whatever useful items she could find amongst their gear, pulling free a trio of magazines that matched her rifle as well as a sheathed knife, a suitable enough implement for her purposes.

Unsheathing the knife Tamamo brought her free hand to the throat of the wounded man and quickly located the artery she sought with gentle, practised motions. Oblivious to the quiet whimper she leaned in close before slipping the knife into the man's throat for an instant before replacing it with her lips, pressed firmly to the wound and felt her mouth fill with the meal that she sought. Swallowing half a dozen times in quick succession Tamamo quickly slaked her hunger before pulling away and idly scrubbing the cooling crimson from her mouth before wiping her blood slicked hands on the man's uniform.

Turning her attention to the ration bar she had temporarily set down Tamamo happily began the process of opening the wrapper when a large impact sounded from the raised portion of the convention hall. Wiggling her ears to pinpoint the sound, set to work sticking the exposed end of the ration bar into her mouth and went about smoothly exchanging her rifle's old magazine for a fresh one before reluctantly tucking the remaining two into the waist of her skirt as for the moment she lacked a better option.

Focused on her surroundings once more, she noted that many of the hostages had been moved and idly wondered if she should have aided with the effort. The seeming confrontation on the upper level called to her however she was not certain that it required her immediate attention. Before she could take further stock of the situation, a hollow boom had her dropped into an uneasy crouch before she was showered in clothing of varying types. Noting with some displeasure that movement would be impaired in the mass of cloth Tamamo frowned and looked about trying to decide where to move to in order to ideally prepare for the coming engagement.

 

[Born-On-Board]

Redrick limped past the hunched, blue figure of Tamamo. He'd watched her, with chilling precision, slip a knife into a dying man's neck, and quick as you like, began to drink the blood that poured from the surgical wound. It wasn't much of a surprise to him.

"Like a housecat killin' a mouse really..." he muttered to himself, limping along. "Lessee..."

He was looking for a rifle. His pistol, though ergonomic and reasonably concealable, as well as a host of other bullet points gracing full-color, gloss advert in a gun magazine wasn't going to cut it in another protracted firefight, especially if there wasn't several super-powered gunmen to assist him, like there had just been. He had just thrown a handful of dice and had them all come up 6 - no one man should ever be able to charge four heavily armed gunmen and walk away unscathed.

And yet, he was here.

He stooped by the corpse of the Lorath girl he had summarily executed, and liberated her of her blood-spattered weapon, wiping it a few times on her clothing. It was the LSDF service rifle, a strange gun with no stock and sight. It was clearly meant to have specialized attachments, of which the pirates seemed to have none, for none of the other guns in his immediate view had been modified in any way. His guess? A crooked supply nobody somewhere in the LSDF's logistics chain wrote a shipment off as being lost or damaged, and now these effectively untraceable guns were now being shot at him. Perfect.

He liberated a few magazines from the woman before his world was obliterated in a sudden impact that sent him sprawling. He had had the chamber of his gun open, to see if it was loaded, and he felt it snap shut on something - there was no mechanical clack of the gun returning to battery.

He hit the floor, backfirst, and discovered after a few seconds of mental reset that he was not, in fact, dead.

His world had suddenly become very soft. He flailed a bit, sitting up with a start, flinging what appeared to be women's undergarments several feet around him. Over the entire convention floor there was a knee-deep layer of underpants, mostly female. Redrick blinked, not really believing his eyes.

"Where...?" he eventually said, "Where did all this come from....?"

Redrick picked his newly acquired rifle up from under the convention floor's new carpet, and inspected the weapon. The rifle's bolt had close on a pair of pink, girl's underpants with strawberries and cats checkered all over them. Redrick grunted in subdued disapproval, yanking the undergarments from the chamber of his weapon, cycling the charging handle a few times to make sure everything was still in working order. He changed magazines, tucking the depleted one into a jacket pocket, the garment severely overstuffed with weapon magazines it wasn't designed to hold.

He stood up, brushing off undergarments that stuck to him with static, cursing all the while. His brushes became frantic slaps, then, with a frustration he'd been holding in all day, began to kick, sending great gouts of underwear flying all over. He kicked and kicked, and after a few minutes of cathartic mess-making he eventually calmed back down.

What a fucking day.