RP: ISC Phoenix [Mission 8] Dawning Concerns

Standing in the back of the truck, atop one of the canisters she had taken the liberty of adoping as a new perch as Mr. Smith's footing became uncertain, Aihara Naoko examined the rather solid looking door that she had come through with the sales representative - the door that the sales representative had shut, when he had left. She considered the metal deeply, as if by staring at it, it would somehow change. But in her peripheral, she was watching a playback of the recent conversation, over and over again, and considering the implications - attempting to make a guess at the character of the sales representative.

Don't pretend to be my friend, you're certainly...

literally all the hemosynthetic material...

Her gaze wandered to the chest that Mr. Smith had locked, and she refocused. Taking her time, Naoko gently padded, barefoot, down off of the shelves and onto the particular trunk that the sales representative had taken the half-pint of Hemosynthetic fluid out of. She stood atop it, considering her next course of action.

On the one hand, having been in planetary infantry for a few years, and then working from a drop-ship training to fight Nepleslians, Naoko was aware that basic metalurgy hadn't changed much from when it was created. Which meant that, essentially, a lock was only as good as its structural integrity, and if it did have a keyhole in the back for the forgetful, an analog lock was nothing to somebody whose hands were small enough.

On the other hand, there was the potential accusation of theft to worry about. Four pints of hemosynthetic could be worth a great deal of money to the right people - Naoko being one of them. Four pints of the material down was four pints she wouldn't have to produce, herself. But if she were to be arrested, or if a warrent were to be issued for her arrest, that would make her a person. Currently, Naoko enjoyed autonomy as a non-entity - an illegal weapon, gone rogue. If someone knew about her, or if she were to make headline news...

Misshu? Well that was splendid. Just wonderful. He grasped both of his weapons and drew- the Xiphos in his left hand's reverse-grip, the Tiger's Tears in his right hand. He'd be more than happy to clamber into a Power Armor, but they weren't designed to accommodate his wings. Instead, he looked to Mr. Smith. "Do you perhaps have any large weapons for a man without a Powered Armor?"

Sierra answered Uriel instead of Smith, actually knowing a little bit more about the Impulse from personal experience. "We actually have a model which can accommodate wings, which we can have delivered in a matter of minutes, along with enough standard-types for the entire crew to use, though, I need to get clearance for it, Smith and I don't have the authority." With that, the redhead began furiously typing at her communicator, sending a note to Aerin.

******

Aerin sighed as the security bulletin came across her communicator, followed soon by a message from Sierra. "It seems we have some unwanted visitors once again..." she commented dryly, mentally giving miss Merkur the authority to order necessary supplies for the defense of the Phoenix crew.

"It's pretty far from where both we and your crew are, so we should be very safe. I doubt your crew will have to fight any unless they do something very silly and leave Sector Three. When your other crew get here, we should be more than adequately protected- I do have personal security following us discreetly for just such an occasion."

******

With the necessary Authorities, Sierra was once again tapping away at the volumetric screen from her communicator, ordering enough Impulse armors, SGAR's, Fatboys, and HGR's for everyone to have something to carry, along with SEP's to use as sidearms.

"We should have the necessary supplies here to mount a defense if we need to, within a few minutes. the problem is far enough away that we aren't actually in any danger, though." the representative commented.

Uriel wasn't convinced, however. Where the Misshuvurthuyar were concerned, there was no such thing as too far, only how many- how many squids, that is.

"Complacency in security is why the Misshu are still a problem, Miss." He spoke almost as though he were sternly correcting a mistaken child, with an emphasis on why rather than the mere wrongness. "Do you have contingency plans for such an occasion?"

"We're on a space station full of the best security teams available in the Kikyo sector. Need I also mention the hundred thousand or so armed Nepleslians wandering around a giant weapons factory?" Sierra answered, Smirking, before getting to his question properly.

"Our contingency plan includes shuttling all the residents to some form of dock the be taken to space by either their own ships or some of Origin's. We can call on the aid of the SAoY if needed, and our guards are more than willing to give up their lives in defense of their homes and families aboard this station." Hopefully, that would be enough to suade over the Elysian, and from what she had learned of the disturbance, the mishhu themselves didn't know the location of the station proper anyway, it seemed to always be someone else bringing them, whether it was a hitchhiker on their own Atuan, or some person wanting to cause havoc and disrupt some things.

With armors on the way Zeta walked to the Robert. "You thinkin what I am thinking?" she started a conversation. "We could have brought some of those bloody mishu with us from our last stop. There were a lot of mishu there." She speaked quietly and while she did, she also typed a message to Echelon back on Big Bird.

Robert blinked in obvious surprise. "Do you think we could have? I thought we checked most everywhere before we left." he twitched nervously at the thought of the mishu killing the people here because of them and their travels.

Enzo reacted a little differently from everyone else when the announcements of Mishu hit the crowd. His face turned into a crooked smile and he activated the hover bike, lifting it off of the ground steadily. The reassuring hum in the handlebars told him he was really cool at this particular moment.

"Yeah, that's it." he started, tugging off of the cigarette in the side of his mouth, "Where's the squishy bastard's at, Smith? An' how much does I makes offa killin' em all? I'm talkin' money, see? I'm gonna blows up every single ones of 'em and fuck their mothers, too. So direct me to where they are and how much I gets paid to kills em all."

The Patrician accepted this answer; he even holstered his revolver with a simple and reluctant nod. He wasn't nervous per se, but he was... itching to have something to do. And while Enzo's dialect was amusing on its own, his mannerisms grated on Uriel's ears and made him wish for thirty seconds they weren't colleagues so he could give the man a firm talking to...

...Probably with his fists.

Robert raised an eyebrow towards Enzo. "How about I pay ya with the nice warm fuzzy feeling of a good deed?" he almost made it through with a straight face while looking at Enzo's. Then gave him a thumbs up, to let Enzo know that he was just kidding.

Matthew eyed Enzo as he sat there on the airbike, eager and ready to go. The sight, for some strange reason, reminded the businessman of a complaint he received from a customer. Apparently, a small, furry indigenous person had climbed onto the sturmtrupp's airbike before flying off into the sunset. Actually, the little critter splattered several men before exploding against a tree. Mr. Smith felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the recollection of the pictures the customer sent. Had they built too good a bike? He had to do something. Matthew straightened his tie and spoke in a businesslike tone.

"Mr. Bortelli, we appreciate your zeal for wanting to kill the damned squids, but please keep in mind we are the hosts. Please, come over. We might as well continue on with business while we sweep up the mess."

He turned his attention to Zeta for the next brief moment as he picked up a modified Standard General Assault Rifle from the table.

"It's a possibility, but don't feel guilty about it. Just as likely, they are leftovers of some stowaways we had on one of our ships."

Matthew then picked up another brand new rifle from the table. It was easily five feet long, boasting an impressive barrel and large magazine.

"This. Is the Heavy Infantry Plasma Rifle. If you absolutely need the thing in your sights to drop dead, this is the one. This is complete overkill for anything not in power armor."

As Matthew hefted the rifle in one hand, he adjusted his glasses with the other, eyes glinting. Deep down, he loved doing that.

"Does anyone want to try?"

He honestly hoped that would help diffuse the situation a little, and focus their attention back to the here and now. Everyone had more than enough Mishhu in their lifetimes, and it wasn't good for business. Matthew felt good when he did his job, essentially flattering and impressing people with Origin's goods, but right now, something just deflated that bubble he privately kept to himself.

"Strange. Am I forgetting someone?"

Hitori suppressed the urge to slap John.. twice... in a row. However, she was able to reply with a somewhat straight face, "I'm sure... you're right."

She let out a low sigh before continuing, "Luca must have pissed the wrong person off this time. However, I'm sure that he can be a big boy and take care of himself." The Geshrin then gave John a smirk after that last comment.

"Me, naturally."

And again, there was that few pounds of extra weight added, except this time it was to Smith's arm. Alighting nimbly on the long barrel of the heavy assault rifle, toes curling slightly as she found purchase on the smooth, smokey black metal, Naoko put her arms behind her back, one small hand around an even smaller wrist, and smiled innocently. The ease of this feat meant the smile would probably look a little cocky too, but Naoko smiled anyway.

Privately, Smith would receive, 'I do not appreciate being shut in the back of a truck and tempted with a lock. I'm not stupid.'

At the same time, verbally, she stated; "I don't think you answered my earlier question. What is the Artificial Intelligence on those large frames like? Can they be operated remotely, or do you have to be in the cockpit yourself?"

Enzo shifted on his mount, but remained seated. His eyes were on Smith, and the massive rifle. After a brief scan of the situation, he leaned back on the hover-bike. He frowned and crossed his arms, spitting the remaining ember of his cigarette and its butt on the ground next to him.

"This's boring," he said, lighting another cigarette and unholstering his revolver, "Open up a door to somehwere's I can be free to do somethin'. There's just no good pistols heres. Alls yous guys gots is the ten and the SEP."

When his cigarette was fully lit, Enzo turned his attention to the revolver and began idly cleaning it, sliding the bullets out of the chamber and poking at the cylinder with a corner of his duster.

The would-be gun testers were finding better and better targets. Melissa smiled a little, since these new targets would hopefully provide some more challenging shooting and some more useful input data - such as the break patterns of a Ripper's breastplate under a hail of gunfire or the stain patterns of a parasite getting squashed.

"Not wot we signed up fer," Melissa observed dryly as she hefted her rifle into a carrying position and got ready to mobilise, "But 'ey. You need feedback, don'chya?"
She gave a cheeky grin to Naoko, "And you might be gettin' somethin' more if yer lucky, little one!"

Dick and Tom were feelign a bit dejected, having been snubbed the opportunity to kick some arse, since they weren't part of OriSec.
"I knew it," Dick sighed.
"'course ya did," Tom replied as he pointed to the Asura's posterior, "That fat ass of yours won't go far."
Dick made a double take to the Frame's backside and scowled, "YOU TAKE THAT BACK IMMEDIATELY! IT'S BIG BONED!!"

-

Back at the hangars, Luca decided that it'd be prudent to speed up the tour, "So, let's take a tour of this ship, shall we?" He asked as a coupe was touching down nearby, "Ah, right on time."

Just moments earlier, on John and Hitori's ride, John snickered a little in response, "If that was the case, he wouldn't need us."
Then he realised suddenly, "But that'd mean that we wouldn't be involved in all this nonsense!" He smiled as the car started to touch down, "Which is way more interesting than doing postal service!" He let out a cordial "HAH!" as he threw his head back.

The doors swung open and they came out of their autopiloted ride. John looked up, adjusted his glasses and ruffled his chinfluff doubtfully as he looked at the new, rather large ship. He wondered out loud, "Cripes, first it's a shuttle, then the Bird, now this big son of a bitch?"
"I'm sure you'll be fine!" Luca walked over with a sly grin and gave him a reassuring pat on the back, only fortifying John's doubts, "You've got a Freespacer doing half the work for you!"

John was not looking forward to this.

-

Meanwhile, another report rang out on the Origin staff's radios, "We're getting more interference in the area, seems like these little buggers have been getting busy." The sounds of gunfire could be heard for a moment, "The extent of the damage is yet to be found."

A different voice crackled to life, "Interference at Arms Factory A-12, the footage is, uh, strange. We're stretched thin with the Mishhu, we might not be able to deal with this at present."

-

A video was transmitted. It was somewhere inside the munitions factory. It showed an eight foot tall woman made entirely out of black protoplasmic goo and appearing to be naked, moving with unusual grace as she indifferently destroyed factory components and materials.

Walking alongside her was what appeared to be a twelve foot tall man made out of a similar substance and sporting an Olympian figure. He had lots and lots of teeth in his mouth, razor sharp claws, and a burning passion to kill evident in its wide, white eyes.

Around these two standout figures were ten or twelve smaller beings, about four feet tall, and very hyperactive and very pointy, just like children on a red cordial binge, assisting their dear old mum and dad in destruction.

The tall man looked at the camera, and with a single swipe of a claw, the footage cut out there.

-

"If we attempt to engage this, we might not be able to cover all of our bases at once. We need to get this Mishhu problem under control ASAP. Two problems, and only one crew..." He started mumbling in thought, "One crew... two... two, two threats, two crews..."

That's when that someone in OriSec had an idea, "Hrm, we might be able to attempt a double pronged attack if you can get Captain Pavone's crew over here. Say it's part of the tour or something, I dunno."

((Lingonote: Cordial is the Australian name for Squash))

Zeta looked at plasma rifle. Firstly it was prepared to turn it away. She doesn't like energy guns after all. Only after she remembered that they may have to deal with goo-lady. "You know what, I will test that plasma-thingey for you no problem." She said. She doesn't have problem with testign it out on that gooey bitch-lady.

She then turned her head to two frames word-fighting. "Hey you two big-guys!" she shouted at them. "Can you just move you jaws a lot and wank about or can you also use those armouts to cause some havoc?"

Panther wasn't too impressed with the gun testing. These were weapons of war, not weapons of assassination!

The Kohanian moved to the firing line and concentrated on the target before moving his arms downward which then forced two of his knives to detach and fall from his sleeve of his jacket into his hands, then quickly threw both of his knives forward at a 50 meter target in a arc that hit the target both hits, though no where near the center of the target.

He was smug that he hit the target, even if it was off a little bit. He then walked to the back and continued watching the others with a little bit of indifference.

"Ah, my apologies Miss Aihara. It will not happen again." That was a reason to frown, though he kept it hidden. His heart had just started to relax, the almost euphorically dizzying fire of adrenaline gone and it gone from mind when it came back. A stupid mistake on his own part, for which Matthew mentally kicked himself. And kicked himself again after receiving the message. It considered stealing the contraband! The nerve! Of course, what was he to expect from one of those things? A good customer which valued repeat business? He inwardly sighed and sent a message of his own.

'That was not my intention. I did not realize the merchandise was under jeopardy, but now know otherwise and will refrain from endangering it in the future...10,000 KS. Easily one third the starting price on Nepleslia Prime. Take it or leave it.'

Now, on to other things, heart ready to explode aside.

Smith frowned at Enzo's comment, mainly because he knew the man was right. The pistols in Origin's inventory were standard fare. Very good standard fare, yes, but still standard. This man, was he man enough to handle it? He briefly glanced at Sierra to gauge her reaction. Matthew made up his mind and walked over to the tables.

Except he couldn't, not with the thing standing on his merchandise! Mr. Smith smoothly brought the rifle up and across his shoulders while keeping the barrel stable and horizontal. Now he could move; the tables were stacked with weapons and various green boxes with the Origin Logo. Snapping one open with one arm, he quickly snatched out a piece of paper without revealing the container's contents and walked back to Enzo.

"Mr. Bortelli, if you can sign this waver claiming that Origin Industries is not to be held responsible for any injuries sustained from the use of our prototypes, I can give you something....Special." Mr. Smith sweetened the deal. "The prototype will come at a fraction of the cost of the end product and will be provisional, meaning, when development is complete, you are entitled to trade this provisional prototype out for the end product you helped us to create."

Smith merely sighed and shook his head as the two frame jockeys were bickering like a married couple. He knew them well enough. They were essentially 'Those Two Guys'. The type that, despite being cannon fodder, always came back alive. And then he saw it. Black forms elegantly, brutally moving, smashing and destroying Origin equipment. Mr. Smith wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses back up with the palm of his hand. Anger rising.

And then Zeta asked for a try; It'd have to wait for a moment. "Of course Miss Zeta. Please watch the weight." Smith handed the rifle over with a smoothness that the neko standing on the barrel wouldn't loose balance. 'Hmm. If it stands there when it fires, she'll get burned feet.' he thought. 'Wait. Shoes. A type of clothing. Clothing...it'll go through a lot as it grows. And it's not the model that has volumetrics installed either.' A lightbulb went up in his head. 'Profit.' He'd discuss that with the neko later.

As Matt forwarded the footage to Sierra, despite the fact that she likely already got it, he had to ensure she was in the loop and on the ball. A flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye. Knives? Matthew felt a mix of various emotions; warmth, bitterness, sorrow. Quite touching. The knife throwing reminded him of the old days, nostalgia easing the horrible tension from the damned neko. He already had a guess as to what type of equipment the Kohanian used. "Mr. Panther, it seems to me like you're not interested in firearms. Seeing your skill, I wondered if you would be interested in Zesuanium weapons?"

The nekovalkyrja twirled on her heel, as soon as the rifle was handed over to Zeta. With a light spring, Naoko nimbly touched down on the table itself. She did not particularly like having to jump from one thing to the other overly much - partially because, as she did so, the little half-kimono she wore went just about every which way, though her hair was unaffected. Antigravity was not a thing that she completely understood, but it was not very modest with lose clothing.

Alighting beside the closed green box, she gave one last little hop from her ankles, and sat on the edge of the case, dangling her feet.

Naoko risked a glance at Smith. The little jab he had thrown her earlier, about 'theft' not being a possibility in his mind, dug at her a little bit. It wasn't the fact of whether it was true or not - doubtless, at the moment, she was not in the business of making completely moral decisions for their own sake, and that was her own choice. It was the fact that he had jabbed so derisively, as if classifying both her, and her entire race, somewhere between pirates and dumb animals. But she smiled anyway.

'Ten thousand KS is fine,' she sent, her voice clear and elegant in Mr. Smith's hindbrain, skipping anything audible and going directly for his internal communications. A split second later, a small image of Naoko appeared in his visual sensors, and she smiled at him both physically, from her seat on the box, and mentally from her position in his peripheral. 'Anyway, I apologize for intercepting, but that is what you get for using a weak frequency without many safeguards. I haven't told anyone else I'm listening, though, but you. The video did not get through. May I see it? If I can see what it is, I just might be able to help you.'

Naoko angled her head, pulling her hair into her lap and toying with it idly, looking away from Smith. Mentally, however, the little image bowed politely.

'Maybe we could even trade?'

Hitori smiled, but stayed silent until they had landed. Upon seeing the new ship, she found herself to be somewhat impressed... which isn't usual. After Luca had arrived, her interest had peeked, "Freespacer, huh? What kind of Freespacer are we talking about?"

Even she had heard about the war between Yamatai and the Freespacers. The Geshrin hoped that such history won't cause any unruly attention from Yamataian forces and/or agencies.