RP: ISC Phoenix [Mission 8] Dawning Concerns

Enzo unceremoniously snatched the paper from Matt's hand and read through them at a low mutter.

"...hereby resign the aforementioned Origin Industries...something about bodily harm, death, disfigurment, heart problems... yada, yada....yada, yada...with no liability implied for somethin or the other..."

After a moment, Enzo produced his switch-blade and stabbed three horizontal marks into the signature line of the waver.

"Consider this my signatures and gives me the loot, Smith." He said, presenting the newly-disfigured waver and his brightest smile, "I gots lots of killin' to do."

"Hitori," Luca asked her, "The Freespacer has been with us for a couple of weeks, remember?" He made a 'chkk-chkk' noise with his mouth as he made a checklist, "Big spiderlegged radioactive robot brain-in-a-jar with a railgun arm, a dislike for the Empress and a tendency to call us 'meatbags'?"

He then gave a shrug, walked over to her and gave her a hug, "It's alright if it slipped your notice," His hug was firm and friendly, "Some of us have been out of it recently with all the mishhu squashing fun, I'm sure you understand."

"Aww, ain't that nice," John adjusted his glasses and gave a golf clap to the couple, "Can we get on with the demonstration of the ship's features and get bloody going?"
"Seconded," Sebastian nodded, "There's another threat out there."

Luca's eyes widened with relative joy, and groaned, "Oh goodie goodie gumdrops, the fun never ends, does it?"
Eventually, they got inside the large Courier A2 with Aerin in tow. In particular, the Bridge stood out to John. He sat down at the pilot's seat and took a casual glance at the controls, giving them a play without turning the ship's engines on.

"Solid stuff," He commented as he fiddled with the joysticks, "Hopefully that short Neko we've got won't have too much fun crawling around in the ventspace," He then rubbed his chinfluff and looked over to Aerin, "Say, do the tunnels come with surveillance?" He asked, out of concern for security than just catering to his needs.

-

Meanwhile, back at the range, three transport shuttles touched down near the Phoenix Crew.

The first two that touched down flung their doors open immediately, one car was occupied by OriSec men and women, wearing Impulse armour and armed appropriately with handheld Gauss rifles. The other was . The one that didn't open appeared to be filled with humanoid figures.

"Mr. Smith," The commander of the OriSec strike team spoke, "We're ready to continue the tour," That's when the third car opened up, with fresh Impulse Armour suits at the ready for the crew. However, there was nothing for Naoko's covert body size or Panther's feline physique.

"I'm sure you can supply your own weapons," The OriSec commander smirked as he got back into his transport, "Now get ready quickly, there isn't much time before the factory is completely ruined and the damage spreads."

-

Meanwhile, inside the factory, an ordinary Origin worker was cowering, hiding away from whatever the hell was invading her place of work. She made a diversion by making it look as though he'd gone through a vent and escaped that way, when in fact he decided to hide in a storage cupboard a room away.

She could only hear the sound of her own hushed breath, until the room she was in started to show signs of activity as something crashed through the door and bounced around the room, making stationery and office equipment cacophonise with joy as it gibbered insanely. The distinct sound of a computer being hurled out a window could be heard.

Whatever it was even smashed into the storage cupboard a few moments later, giving it a solid shake and its occupant a gasp of fright. That's when the crashing and giggling came to a deadly silence.

The occupant's internal monologue consisted of frenzied swearing as the creature investigated the cupboard, and pushed its doors open. It grinned with delight as the worker could only look on in horror.
"TOY!" It yelled.

Robert Grinned as the transports opened, revealing the Impulse armor that was specially modified as he asked Mr. Smith. He quickly donned the armor and grabbed a Fatboy from the nearby table. He checked the battery and hefted it in one hand. He jumped back onto the transport and looked at the others. "Let's kick some Squiddy butt...Tentecles... Or whatever they have."

Zeta walked to newly arrived Impulse with heavy plasma rifle leaned against her shoulder. That gun was on heavy bugger but she hoped it will be worth it. She then inspected armour, that was set for her with her eyes. It was equipped with assault pack as she wanted. And with default charged knuckle spikes. Zeta can work with that.

She started putting armour on. It took her a while, but it was pretty intuitive. With her putting helmet on she started the PA. It was actually her first time in PA although she had all the theoretical knowledge of piloting one in her mind. "Okay this shouldn't be so hard," she said and made a few steps. It was very similiar to wearing a combat armour, although combat armour didn't carry its own weight.

Zeta slowly picked up Plasma Rifle and looked at it. It was big gun, but with few glances she was pretty sure how to use it. Rifle was very, very long and very unwieldy in closed spaces. She has left her trusty Manncannon at the table where she had to leave her jacket and knife to fit in PA. She then picked up a 'Chubby' version of Fatboy and put it her side with two extra batteries. Only then she turned back to Smith. "Hey Smithey I am going to need more ammo to shoot the buggers. Also is there something special I should know about the plasma rifle? Does it overheat a lot or something. Should I be careful to not club some buggers with it? Could use a bloody manual right about now."

He briefly eyed the neko with a neutral expression. Before turning back to the others.

With the message sent to the proper grunt, he could deal with some other things first before coming back to it.

What he was going to do wasn't exactly the most savory way to do things, but on the other hand, there was a full recording of Enzo verbally agreeing to it. All in high definition. Matthew Smith did not want to push the matter for an actual signature; it could potentially offend the customer, and frankly, that wasn't good for business. The recording would have to do. The Origin Rep took the paper back cordially, and put it into another suitcase on the table, this one full of various papers. With that one done, he closed it, and opened another, again, shielding the contents from view with the open case. He pushed his glasses up, speaking to Enzo while his eyes were shielded by glare.

"Frankly, I'm not concerned about this pistol being too underpowered. Instead, I am more concerned if this is...too much gun for you." Mr. Smith reached into the suitcase, and painstakingly, slowly, pulled out a large handgun. Just as everyone would expect the pistol to end, it just kept coming out instead. After a near eternity of drawing it out, the pistol finally ended in a birdcage muzzle break and gas tube assembly. He looked up into the empty magazine well to check it, the glare finally dissipating from his glasses. Smith twirled it to Enzo, handing over the large ceramic pistol butt first. "The Peashooter. Three magazines worth of ammo in the case, as well as a holster for it. More if you need it in those cases over there. Enjoy. But." He gave a slightly mischievous grin. "Try not to make a mess."

As the lead of security made his arrival, Matthew shot him a baleful glare. 'Going forward with it, huh? I can turn this to my advantage.' he thought to himself. "Hold it." The words hung in the air for a moment before he elaborated. "I'm not entirely comfortable with sending customers to clean up what's essentially our mess and covering it up as 'part of the tour'." Mr. Smith turned to look at the Phoenix crew as a whole. "What's more, it may not be squiddies." he added on, crossing his arms sternly.

A volumetric window appeared and replayed the security footage from earlier, showcasing the strange black forms wreaking havoc in the factory. "If you all decide not to come, you'll have to stay here with Miss Merkur." He then glanced at Zeta. "Heavy, medium and light modes, Miss. You'll have to work the bolt when a cap is exhausted; there's a four second delay between medium, eight second between heavy, and only an eight second delay after cycling in the new cap with light." He looked at the group again.

"So, what will it be everyone?" The volumetric window played at a fast clip in the background, finally catching up to the present where a hiding woman was discovered as a 'Toy' by the hostiles.

Robert shrugged his shoulders as Mr. Smith asked who was going. "Obviously, I'm ready to go and kill whatever it is. Besides I like live fire exercises." He turned to the volumetric screen. "Where is she?" he asked quickly and alarmed

"I wanna know too," Enzo chimed in after Robert, "I owes the bitch a good time, after all, I was the one hittin' on her."

The vagabond didn't wait for a reply before re-mounting the airbike and loading up his new toy. With a heavy sound, he slammed the first round into the barrel and loaded a full magazine behind it. He held the gun straight out and looked down the sights for a moment before holstering it on his right thigh.

Okay the rifle was not hard to use. Zeta picked upp more ammunition for it and stepped into the shuttle next to Robert and said, "Mr. Smith, we shoudl stop wasting out time wanking and go kills them bugger, because I think that the woman on the screen is really looking forward to get rescued so could we get a bloody move on?" She asked, her voice did not sound slightly irritated, more like a mighty irritated and pissed.

Robert nodded and leaned towards Mr. Smith. "You probably should listen to her while she's being polite. She can get a whole lot meaner." he nodded like he was giving sage advice.

The smaller Naoko twitched an ear, perking it at a certain angle, glancing over to Smith with a raised eyebrow.


The little digital Nekovalkyrja crossed its arms, shifting its stance somewhat petulantly. Although the mild-mannered, fleshy Naoko had chosen more modest dress, the digital representation had gone with a flashy white sports jacket, a pair of red-tinted sunglasses, and a same-color, leather miniskirt that was considerably more outgoing. The reality and the digital contrasted horribly - while the cute little Naoko seemed perfectly docile and placid, the image in Smith's peripheral had a full-toothed, carnal smile.


As if that conversation weren't happening, the little Naoko stood from her seat on the ammo box, brushed her bum off, and wordlessly made her way back over to the truck, vaulting into the back of it again off of the ground and disappearing inside.

Smith, however, saw something different. The digital Naoko pulled a card out of her jacket, and offered it.


'It's a routing number,' the punk-Neko explained, 'Please withdreaw from this account. And of course, having paid for it, I am now taking it.'

With that, the image threw a salute, and winked out of existance.

An understatement is where something is set out in weak or modest terms, usually for comedic effect. An example of such would be to say that Mr. Smith was slightly displeased with the Neko's antics, if not a tad disturbed by the sharp contrast it showed him. He was also mildly bothered by the fact that she did no have the money in hard copy; he disliked electronic transfers because of their ability to be traced. With a physical transfer, Mr. Smith could and had shot back if things went wrong. He quickly sent out the code, as well as the signal for the automated process to begin.

Long story short, through a long process of withdrawals, deposits and donations through various straw accounts and eventually some physical transfers through trusted intermediaries, Matthew would be 10,000 KS richer. And then 9,000 KS poorer as he sent the vast chunk of cash to his little brother and sister.

As Mr. Smith casually walked over to the tables of hardware, he asked casually, "It almost sounds like you all are familiar with these individuals. Care to explain?" With a lack of expression, he picked up an ODM 17mm for himself, as well as a few magazines and a hip holster. The woman continued screaming in the background. "Of course, you don't have to say a word. We at Origin Industries value customer privacy." He started to get onto the shuttle.

"If you're all in a hurry to provide assistance to Miss Dillard, please take whatever you need. I'd hate to looser Dillard. She has quite the sense of humor." Matthew hopped onto the Shuttle with a spring in his step.

Zeta sighed upon the question. "The small one is a new thing, but the bloody bithc leading it is pretty dangerous. Small arms fire didn't do a bugger to her last time we had a skirmish. We had to froze her and crash her into pieces, which obviously didn't work at all. I think she called herself Malice or some stupid name like that. Anyway Since fatboy's are energy guny, they could hurt those thins. Other then that, I woudl suggest flames or something. We are not really experts. Just shoot till its dead." Zeta said.

She then went to inspect her rifle. She found settinga. Hmm light, medium and heavy? Zeta didn't ponder for too long and have set the rifle on heavy. "Let's fly then!"

"Standard, they do not, but I can have a team here within minutes to install a system within an hour. And it will work seamlessly with the other systems in the ship, as well. Normally, that is a 10,000 KS option, but I can throw it in if you guys would like." Aerin answered about the security system.

"Likewise, if this is the ship you are going to purchase, I would suggest activating the AI and naming it, so you can get to know it. It can tell you anything you need to know about the ship, and, as soon as I give the override command, will be completely independent from any other Destiny AI system, but capable of controlling assigned Pawn suites, such as those found in our Power armor."

Aerin walked a circle around the bridge, inspecting it herself for any minor defects-and found none, as expected. she finally stopped next to Luca, and asked him "Would you like to continue a tour, see the crew cabins, or the spacious cargo bay?"

******

Sierra stayed quiet for her part, allowing Smith to do most of the work. While it was true that she was a representative, she was also a designer and programmer, and the head of a development team. she may have been good at selling, but it wasn't her job, really. When they all got outfitted for a scuffle, though, she held back- sure, she had Piloted an Impulse before, but she was no fighter, she wouldn't be any help if there was a struggle. "Good luck, Smith. Don't let any of the customers die."

"Ah, right. That Freespacer," replied Hitori with a nod. "I keep forgetting that it's more then just a bucket of bolts and circuits." She shrugged slightly, kind of ignoring the duo's chat.

Meanwhile, in the truck, Naoko was struggling to re-orient herself. The lock was broken, along with the unfortunate latch that it had been attached to. The medical kits had been ravaged, and the unimportant contents had been discarded back into the packages pell-mel. Now she was reeling, giddy and excited from the rush. It was like some sort of drug. It was like sex. It was better.

Picking herself up off the bed of the truck, she reached out to steady herself. Her hand fell on the barrel of a rifle, and she almost knocked several of them over clumsily as she regained her balance and equilibrium, adjusting her stabalizers and movements to her new size. The displaced guns clattering down onto the floor drew her attention, and she traced its trajectory up to the racks of weapons, and the shelves of bullets and other assorted equipment and accessories. It was quite the armory.

"Ohayo."

------------------------

The Naoko that emerged from the back of the truck several minutes later was not the same as the Naoko that had stepped into the vehicle moments before. For one, she was a couple of feet taller - the size of an older human child, or about four feet from heel to head. For another, she was carrying a SmAR in her left hand, a wicked halberd-like, metal-hafted axe in her other hand that looked much too large for her, and a couple of energy pistols in side-holsters, slung over the head of that axe. Aside from a bandolier that had been loaded out with spare batteries, she had outgrown the rest of her clothing. Again.

Dropping the axe onto the ground and carefully laying the rest of the weaponry with it, she rolled her shoulder and tossed the bandolier atop the pile.

"Please add these to the bill," she stated. Then she gave Smith a weak, embarassed smile. "And... also... may I borrow your jacket?"

Smith had to meet up with it to plan out the next meeting. The Neko was supposed to be his bodyguard after all, not that he had a choice in the matter; the deals were getting more and more important, and the boss wanted to make sure his investment, as well as his best agent, came back. Getting into the small, dingy apartment room was easy; he had a copy of the key. But, room messy with fast food containers, empty bags of chips and likely used underwear on the floor aside, there was no sign of it. As Smith turned, he came face to face with a large smile; the bare neko stood there with steam rolling off it's skin, beads of water clinging to the flesh. A towel was lazily slung over one shoulder. As Smith stumbled back and fell screaming, it laughed.

*****

Meanwhile, a little girl by the name of Jamie Smith was in her middle school class on Dawn Station. She was working on graphical designs for a small class project; a video game. Jamie was still adjusting to her new Yamataian body, and so her designs were a bit off. Someone commented that the boss she was working on looked crappy. "It's supposed to be a giant robo-crab!" she shot at him. Jamie sighed and got back to work, practicing with her relatively new hands and fingers. Another ten minutes in and a small amount of progress made, she leaned back into her seat.

"Huh. For some reason, I think someone broke big brother."

Jamie shrugged and left the classroom with the other kids as the bell rang.

*****

He nodded to Sierra before the aberration occurred.

"Of course Miss Aihara. For now though, all of you, please take what you will. The final price will come later after you all decide what to purchase." he spoke in a slightly more pleasant tone. Smith casually strolled over and removed his jacket, placing it on Naoko's shoulders, leaving himself with a white shirt and blue tie. He grabbed a few more magazines of ammunition for his pistols, and got back onto the shuttle.

Not too much later, they were all nearing the factory building. Windows were broken, a bit of smoke was pouring out and it's front roller shutter smashed open. "So, who want's first dibs? Anybody?" Smith asked with a smile.

*****

"Yeah, I'm sure bro's fine. You're worrying too much Jamie."
"I know Scott. Still, I'm worried. You know these hunches I get are usually right!"
"Hey, hey. Even if he's in a bit of a jam, bro's more than able to handle anything...well...except for catgirls."
"Yeah. Nekos..." The conversation over the comm then veered off into Jamie asking her older brother Scott advice about boys.

Uriel was silent, his tendency just before a conflict. That it was Misshu made focus that much more important. Up until now he had worn his traditional garb, but now that combat was fast approaching, he removed both Soh'k'tohs and l'yaloh and folded them as all Patricians were taught before setting them aside. His belt was also removed, but only so he could climb inside the custom Impulse armor.

Once he had figured out how, the Seraphim sighed softly. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as the armors afforded him back in the Navy, but he couldn't complain. Any amount of armor between himself and those squid-slavers was a great reassurance. Now properly armored, he had to properly arm himself. Hisshana picked up a 'chubby' Fatboy having always favored pistols over rifles. The armor was laden with as many extra power packs it could carry, although room was reserved for 36 more rounds meant to load his Tiger's Tears. Last, but certainly not least, he refastened the belt around the Impulse's waist.

With it all secure, Uriel nodded to himself. It was no doubt he looked strange, but when didn't he look odd amidst all these folk? He endured the ride also in silence. At the site, he strode forward with the stockless Fatboy in his right hand and Hippeis Xiphos in his left. "I'll take point," he stated in a calm authoritative tone and without further ado led them inside with a mighty, powered-armor SPARTA-KICK.

Robert was almost literally bouncing around in his power armor. He liked the feel of power and closeness it gave him. He jumped out of the landing craft as the doors allowed for him to leave. As he hit the ground, the Fatboy was up and ready for any enemies in the immediate vicinity. Seeing none, he followed Uriel to the front door, giving an obvious start of surprise when Uriel kicked in the door and hurried in behind him.

Zeta moved forward just behind Robert. She had large rifle in her hands, prepared to cover Uriel as he was about to kick doors down. She was would like to be first there, but she had most fearsome and dangerous weapon in the group. And she had a feeling that this weapon will be needed yet. "Ready," she said so other would now.

And right along behind them came the unarmored, but nevertheless heavily armed Aihara Naoko, axe shouldered with one hand, and the SmAR held loosely in the other. She stepped carefully over the shattered fragments of door, examining the area inside calmly, before turning her attention to the rest of the group. Only as large as a human child and with only a jacket to protect her, she was a severe contrast to the rest of the armored squadron, but it didn't seem to bother her very much. Although her fingers were small and her hands were slender, her grip seemed to be rather disproportionately strong.

'We are establishing comms now, so in the future please use this channel,' the Nekovalkyrja sent, appearing as a face and half-torso in the peripheral screen of anyone capable of receiving images - which, because of the armors, panned out to everybody anyway. 'The Duplicarii is point. I'll take rear guard. Stay together and don't forget to pay attention to -all- of your surroundings, including above and below. Hold on a second.'

Turning, she carefully picked her way back towards the door, around the shards of broken glass, the warped metal, and the other dangerous, foot-destroying debre in the vicinity. She walked until she came to Mr. Smith.

'Hey, Smith. You have a map of this area? It would be real helpful, yo?