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Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Jul 22, 2021 7:49:33 GMT -8
Fenrir 2 dispatched the last of the mutants in the current hall. Well, that was somewhat inaccurate. Rather, they had lured them into the trap grid for this hall, and they sprang it like clockwork. Some fell into vats of molecular acid waiting just beneath. Others were rent asunder by flexible tentacles made of the synthetic metal muscle Myotanium. How could something as rigid as metal be manipulated into something as flexible as a muscle fibre without impregnating it with other more elastic materials? Well, that was another lost Tuffle secret that wasn't available on the Master Index. The TSE's Metallurgy Department was going to have a field day studying all these traps if they managed to keep the facility intact long enough for a science team to fly up here from the nearest research bunker. And still, other muties were shredded by more conventional weapons like miniguns and plasma flamers. Whatever the case, these things did exactly what they were built to do, before handily retracting into the floor, walls, and ceiling. And just as they'd had a lot of practise with, Fenrir 2-4 made the painstaking effort of getting his hand past the laser grid to swipe the general's clearance card into the reader. The nearly imperceptible red beams vanished as the light on the security console switched from red to green. This was the last obstacle. At the end of this hall was the security room. With the precision of a scalpel, the squad got to work. They drew their capsules to set up titanium barricades just beyond the trap zone, deployed a pair of automated plasma turrets, and left their rear guard, 2-8 and 2-9, as sentries to ensure nothing got through. In all their busy work, though, they missed the little pinprick of light that had been following them for some time now, probably because they were too preoccupied with moving forward. Fenrir 2-4 swiped the card through the security room's blast doors, and it slowly began to slide open. Far too slow for comfort. 2-1 jammed his hand into the slowly growing space and shoved the door into its retraction slot. The subroutines really did need some work. What was the point of allocating power to the security room door when it would take ten whole minutes to open it up? Like the rest of the facility, it was dark. The traps had kept it secure this whole time, however. Despite the settling dust, and the fact that the impact knocked over everything that wasn't bolted to the wall, ceiling, or floor, it was in mostly good shape. Fenrir 2-1 led the squad inside and after ensuring there was nothing dangerous, reported in. <<Fenrir 1, Fenrir 2-1. We've locked down the security room and are working to restore power to the security control system. Standby.>>2-4 was already at work, having retrieved a micro cold fusion reactor from one of his capsules. The small machine was the size of a typical two-slice toaster. But it had enough juice to power a small three story office building. Nowhere near enough to restore power to the entire facility, but plenty for the security control network. It would connect them to all remaining active traps and defences, allowing them to switch everything on and off as needed. And more importantly, it would reactivate what remained of the camera grid, ensuring that they knew as much as possible about what guns should be firing where. <<Copy that, Fenrir 2-1. We've secured the checkpoint on Sublevel 4 and are making our way down to Sublevel 5. Think you can have the security measures there give us a warm welcome?>>
<<Just let us add your frequencies to the Friendly ledger, and enjoy the fireworks, Fenrir 1. T-minus 30 seconds.>>With a flick of the switch on the reactor, the lights in the room flickered to life, a cold laboratory white. Fenrir 2's visors automatically adjusted, deactivating thermal vision as the lights came on. The door slid shut behind them much faster than needed. 2-4 swiped the general's card through the control console's reader, and the system sprang to life. Hidden projectors began to transmit all available security camera footage into the room, each appearing like a holographic popup that occupied what most people would have thought was merely empty white walls. When faced with a password challenge, the tech specialist once again used the general's card to initiate a security override using her CONTINENT authority. And just like that, the security room was now theirs. "Hey Boss, check it out." 2-4 pointed at the holographic windows collectively under the sign Sublevel 5. There were quite a few mutants down there. Many were the usual fare... broken, slimy meat and bone things that couldn't even walk. But a number of stronger specimens were also present. Much bigger ones dwarfing the ones they'd seen so far. Ten, maybe twelve feet apiece. Better physical structure. Probably in the earliest stages of degeneration. Worse, there were a number more still in their vats. Some bigger. "I dunno if the security can handle all that...""Well frak..." 2-1 radioed again. <<Fenrir 1, Fenrir 2-1. Belay the drop. I repeat, belay the drop. It's a hornet's nest down there. There's enough muties to bury the elevator hall, and they have some really big sisters with em.>>Fenrir 1-2 stopped just short of shoving his hands in between the elevator doors. <<Copy that, Fenrir 2-1. Thanks for the warning. But how are we supposed to get to the signal now?>>Fenrir 2-4 might have just had the answer. On the cameras, he’d spotted… someone that was neither a mutie, nor one of them. He was in one of the rooms, now. Full of vats with still slumbering somewhat degenerate clones. ”Boss. Looks like we got a bogey.”2-1 squinted as he observed the image on the camera. Who was this guy anyway? Now, the obvious thing to do was to spring the guns on him to get the muties’ attention. It didn’t feel quite right though. He pulled up the map, and linked them to the camera footage. He was two rooms away from the signal source, which in turn was two rooms away from the elevator hall… these were all vat rooms, of course. There was some secret trap room just behind him, which was probably how he got down there so fast. Never mind the fact that there were nearly two dozen vat rooms spread out across the floor in a grid, with him on one end, the elevator hall on the other, and the signal smack dab in the middle. Each one had its own detail of guns, hidden in the ceiling and floor panels. And each one had extra vat rooms on either side. In which case… 2-1 took the guns in the vat room to the intruder’s left, and ordered them to fire on some muties that were just too far away from the trip wires. They were miniguns. Rather loud. And seemed to do the trick too. Now, the mutants were headed away from the elevator hall, and toward that vat room right next to the one this intruder was in. Some would pass him by, but others were already headed his way. Mainly the ones from the room to his right. <<Fenrir 1, Fenrir 2-1. I’ve got security pulling the muties away. You’re clear for entry.>>
<<Copy that, Fenrir 2-1. We’re going in…>>Fenrir 1-2 shoved his hands into the slit between the elevator doors, and pushed it open. The dark hallway was mostly clear, the last traces of slime slipping away into a door leading to the sound of gunfire. Behind him, the rest of Fenrir 1 slid, with General Cerola still in the middle… still… in the middle of something psychic…? It was a good thing that her face was hidden behind her helmet, because it would have been an unbecoming sight to witness the shock on her face when this apparently gung ho and obedient soldier suddenly cussed out. And then went on an ear-blistering rant that was only forgiving because her ears weren’t actually hurting from it. She went on to call the general a colossal nerd. Or something like that. It sounded familiar, yes. <<I… I’m sorry… nerd…? Wh…>>But she would continue on throwing shade, not even giving her the courtesy of addressing her by rank, with the kind of familiarity of someone who knew her personally. Even somehow displaying knowledge of the film she made with the Saiyan celebrity Brussuls the Muscles! <<W… well you see, I…>>The shade continued, an embarrassing chastisement befitting a traitor in its absolute shock at such a thing. Still, she came up with her own justification. This soldier was right, in a way. It was a publicity stunt. But not to create the appearance of a tolerant Tuffle race. <<I… I’m in deep cover…>>More of a whimper than an explanation, but her mind was still buzzing in confusion, and a looming sense of familiarity. There was no way she could articulate that to the public, she was just another human, who happened to be leading an increasingly popular private security firm. Too many words to describe, and too many words were still coming her way. And then, the soldier finally introduced herself, mainly by what she had done, that Cerola would certainly remember. The familiarity fell on the general like a ton of bricks. The confusion on her face morphed into dread. Not an existential dread, or even the horror in fear of death. No, those were things that she had long outgrown. It was something relatively petty in comparison, and yet no less terrifying. Social dread. Yes. Petty it seemed, but according to surveys, most of the people in modern civilisations were most afraid of public speaking. Public speaking was the number one fear on that survey, just above death. That wasn’t to say that Cerola was faced with the fear of a crowd. No, otherwise, she wouldn’t have made a good speaker, dropping inspirational bombs on her men during times of tribulation. It was a more personal social dread, one that called back by hundreds of years, when she was a cadette at the Academy, working her way to become an excellent officer. While she was quiet, reserved, focused on acing the tests and getting the exercises right, there was one who was her opposite. Loud, brash, and popular. Sure, she was behind by just a couple of years, but she made up for it with her great height and physical prowess. Cerola dominated her batch’s intellectual pursuits. But this particular lab child, raised by scientists as part of a super soldier program to perhaps one day use against the Cold Force… or the Saiyans, if necessary… made the field of physical academics her plaything. This unstoppable force, this juggernaut who for some inexplicable reason teased her often of being a nerd. The one and only Charentis. It wasn’t like a bully and victim relationship, exactly. After all, Cerola admired her pure power and speed, if not her attitude. But while she focused on her studies, and had only a few friends to speak of, Charentis was a force of personality, who got all the cool kids to hang around her. That was fine. Cerola didn’t feel the need to prove herself socially. It was a simple observation. It was a strange acquaintance, in a sense, brought about by the fact that they were at the top of their fields. One in the physical aspects of war, and the other in the mental. Because of this, they tended to be compared, and for some reason, tended to run into each other often. Looking back, it was all probably just good fun. But that voice and demeanor… She couldn’t help but fall back to the old days, even in her telepathic speech… <<I… yes, that’s right. There’s only one nerd they’d send for a job like this. The Saiyan-kissing nerd who’s going to get it done!>> Terribly cliche comeback, and it didn't even make a lot of sense. What did that even mean? But that was what happened when old childhood matters came back to bite you in completely unexpected ways. She stepped out of the elevator shaft to an empty hall that her squad was already securing. They were preparing to move into the vat room up ahead. There would be more mutants or… something. The conversation 1-2 had with 2-1 was a blur. Especially with all of this going on. Cerola then heard the intruder respond with a renewed determination. Well, that wasn’t exactly trust… but it made sense. Technically a clone in a tube shouldn’t really fully know the map of where to go… um… More gunfire in the distance. The turrets shooting at mutants to get their attention. Her mind was still addled from that exchange with Charentis. The only thing she could come up with was a somewhat confused… <<Watch out… they’re coming!>>It wasn’t as beguiling as giving him directions that were safe from mutants, but would ultimately have him running around in circles. On the other hand, it was still completely honest and trustworthy… The problem was, it left him with his own initiative to decide which way to go. Unfortunately, that was all she could do. Because at the moment, General Cerola was still reeling hard from being chewed out as a Saiyan-kissing nerd. [2279/9132] Valentus The Charentis Project
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Post by The Charentis Project on Jul 22, 2021 12:59:51 GMT -8
She was excited, that was for sure. Despite her behavior, most of it was just smoke and mirrors. Something familiar, someone who she knew, and most importantly above all else the consistency of their interactions. If it all was just a dream, something would've went eschew by this point. Instead, the dialogue seemed tangible and comprehensive, like something Charentis could grasp and remember if she wished. Depending on how far Cerola's telepathy went, the sort of happy sadness Charentis was feeling could've bled through in some way correlating to the General's abilities, regardless, at her core she wasn't as much of a bully as she pretended to be for horsing around's sake. Though there was certainly that singular gripe that she truly had. Cerola had not only kissed a Saiyan actor, but as she heard while listening to Cerola her faltering demeanor, what she didn't expect was for to double down on being a 'Saiyan-kisser' as she put it. That caused an awkward period of telepathic silence on Charentis's behalf. Did she actually? A Saiyan? She... Was it possible Cerola and... Her people had almost been indoctrinated by the primates...? Was...- Well, she didn't try to stress too much over the details. After all, once they extracted and were at a safe location she'd have plenty of time to interrogate the General about it. Though theoretically ranking would come into play... Tch. While no matter how she span it she couldn't rationalize it, she could accept to just shove it away and forget about it. She could only make her own decisions, there'd been plenty of times researchers had foolishly spliced monkey DNA into their people trying to replicate the only strength of an inferior species, but many of those times ended with Charentis having to clean up their messes. Tuffle's weren't perfect, and three hundred years had passed. Maybe in a more controlled environment she'd be able to at least come up with a plausible reason for it. Cerola didn't seem like the type that'd ever even consider such a thing, but she was referencing a Cerola from the height of the Saiyan-Tuffle War and in her own perspective. She figured so long could change anyone. It came to attention that everything she was fighting for; Eradicating the Saiyans, pulling the Tuffle's to a glorious and proud future, all of it could be meaningless if her commanders had decided it wasn't worth it. Centuries had passed, that kind of time can do a lot to the opinions of a great tragedy, wounds fade with time. Saiyan's can't clone themselves, either, so the Saiyan Cerola might've kissed was dozens of generations passed anyone involved in the Tuffle-Saiyan War. Maybe a smarter person like Cerola decided it wasn't worth being upset at someone over their ancestors sins. She spoke up, contrasting her wild behavior up until that point. Fiery hot-headedness and cooled calm ten seconds a part might have indicated the damage three hundred years of sitting with just her thoughts did to her psyche. <<"Well. I'm just glad you're here.">> She said, her minds voice much quieter and relaxed. <<"I'm sure there's a good reason.">>She left it at that. She was still excited, but with the Saiyan-Tuffle War hitting her like a bag of bricks, her disposition had considerably darkened when it came to her attention that her hatred might've been an expired commodity from an era long passed; that in the present Saiyan's were nothing like their ancestors, and Tuffles had no reason to go to War with them.
The Cloning Chambers for the most part were smashed, the mutants doing as they did. The ones that weren't however were even more disturbing. Cracked expanded glass as flesh packed the entire thing, any sign of vat fluid gone as it'd been forced through tiny cracks in the machine from the pressure. Once there was no bio-organic fuel sustaining them, they'd died in their tombs and just filled the vats like Spam in a can.
She'd wait. She'd waited so long, all of the stress and worry would be welcomed once she could twitch a finger, lift a limb, talk using her vocal cords. She just wanted out, and despite her words she was thankful she wasn't being dug out by a stranger. It made her feel reassured that she had the expertise of one of the Tuffle-Saiyan War's most famous and capable Generals handling the operation to extract her. She was in good hands. Though, of course, she knew absolutely nothing about Valentus being two rooms over. 759 | 3,323 Valentus Emargine "Azure" Cerola
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Post by Valentus on Jul 23, 2021 8:07:02 GMT -8
The Azure Dragoons came, marched past, and continued on without paying any attention to Paizu. Once the last member of the squad walked away past her, the little fairy faintly sighed in relief. This could have gone so, so much worse - Valentus would tell her that all she needed in this situation was just believe and have faith, but the pixie chalked this up more to dumb luck than anything else. Once it was clear that none of the heavily armored soldiers were aiming at her, Paizu flew out of her hiding hole, keeping her distance, sliding along one of the walls and using any bumps, tables, or holes as hiding spots, just in case any of them turned around and saw a dim light following them. Whenever the Dragoons would stop and open fire against a yet another mob of mutants, she would hide as far away as she could, cover her ears and hope to whatever Gods still existed at this point that nobody notices her. This entire "adventure" was going to traumatize her for a while - yadda yadda, why did she have to be freed by someone like Valentus, why couldn't it have been some random farmer in the prairies of the Central Lands so she could live the rest of her life caring for little and feeding off flowers... Eventually, the squad stopped - but not for the usual mutant warding off or door opening gig. Instead, they were starting to set up a base - barricades, sentries and turrets - all while the rest were focusing on a specific blast door. If she had to guess, she would assume that this was the squad's primary target. Paizu dove down to the surface, flying along the shadows and the boots of the heavily armored soldiers to slip through undetected - and, alongside the Azure Dragoons, she entered the security room. While the seemingly unsuspecting soldiers were setting up a generator and plugging into the computers strewn across the room, Paizu found herself an another hiding place - in the corner, behind the security camera of the room. From her vantage point up above, she watched the proceedings - the holographic feed of the security cameras immediately drew her attention. Immediately, the fairy was able to recognize corridors she and Valentus went past on their way here - most notably the intersection in which the Tuffle diverted a mob of mutants towards the Dragoons. Soon after, from a camera feed which displayed the elevator shaft, she saw the second Dragoon squad infiltrating the facility as well. Same old, same old. Soldiers armed from tooth to toe and completely covered in power armor. How boring... Finally, just as Paizu noticed him, so did the Dragoons. Val was down there, not only did he survive, but he was now on the main cloning factory floor - which shocked the Dragoons operating the security room quite deeply. After a brief exchange with the unit on the floor, the soldiers started putting their control over security to use. Opening fire in an empty room, drawing the attention of the mutants scattered across the facility, and sending them straight towards him... Karma, perhaps. But this meant Valentus was now in danger. Serious danger. And... what can she do about it? This will be suicide... This will be suicide... This will be suicide...Paizu had watched the soldiers input their commands into the keyboard panel in front - she only had one shot with this, so she better make it count. What was the best thing she could do to make their day worse? Hm... If a button is red, then it has to be important. Maybe she can hit that? There won't be enough nectar in the world for you make up for what you dragged me into, Val...The fairy suddenly dove down, flying straight past the soldiers as fast as she possibly could, straight at the keyboard, where she aimed to push as many buttons as she could, especially ones which looked as important as possible, before flying away towards the exit in a frantic panic. AAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAH!Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Massive cloning pods were lined up, one after another, as far as Valentus' eye could see. The Tuffle slowly walked forward, turning from one side to another, just in case he could see anything suspicious coming from any side. The absolute majority of the cloning pods were empty. Either they were smashed open completely, or simply cracked, and thus whatever had been inside was forced out over many years of trickling. The vats which were more intact were... difficult to look at. Completely squeezed with flesh and tissue, whatever had been grown inside expanded to a point where it became nothing but a mass of disembodied organic mass. The air felt humid, and difficult to breathe in. The vats which cracked spilled their internal fluid outside over a long time, and said fluid eventually evaporated - with no place to go, this water vapor continued to fill the air, sometimes collecting on the surface before evaporating again. It gave the cloning chambers a slightly foggy look as well, as if he was in the middle of intense downpour, except no rain was falling on him. Valentus carefully stepped past a few puddles, then stopped in the center of the room, unsure which direction to go to. Left, right and forward all seemed to lead towards vat rooms just like this one. And this girl could be anywhere. Any one of these pods could hold her inside, and the only way he could figure out how was to check all of them. And he- What was that?Valentus crouched, ducking on instinct after he heard the sound of gunfire coming from his left. Miniguns, loudly blaring as they emptied out their entire magazine on something. Did someone out there trip on a laser, or something? Almost immediately, things turned worse. A stampede, coming from all directions, was now coming his way. Not only was someone opened fire upon there, but the sound of the weapon was now attracting every mutant on the entire floor - which, as far as Valentus could tell, was a lot. " Ohh no..." the Tuffle whispered under his breath. Soon, the first mutants burst through the entrance separating his room from the one on the right - and the mutants, initially agitated by noise, now changed targets to him. Watch out... they’re coming!Yeah. As if he did not already know that. For now, Valentus did not respond. Instead, the Tuffle was planning. He can't stay in one place, he can't run to the right, obviously, and he isn't going to run to the left where the gunfire first came from. There is only one other ground he knew who were inside this building and who could trip that laser consciously - and he does not want to meet them. So, the Tuffle ran forward, all while clenching tightly to the crowbar in his hand. The mutants were not going to just leave him be - some appeared just as monstrous as the ones Valentus has fought before, while others, to his surprise, appeared surprisingly human, indicating that they were quite recent. With the corner of his eye, he saw a large fluid tank the side of a small car, looking somewhat similar to a water tank, hanging of the upper left corner of the room. The bottom of the tank was attached to dozens of pipes laying on the ground, each one connecting to the cloning vats on the floor. It was not hard to guess that it was where the bio-stimulant fluid used to fill each of the vats was kept and filtered, and if there are some pods still operating, then it must not be completely empty, either. Lacking any other options, Valentus tossed the crowbar in his hand like a spear, straight at the water tank, while ducking to the exit forward. His guess was right - as soon as it was pierced, the tank burst out a massive stream of vat fluid from the impact area, which flooded behind Valentus and sprayed the mutants who were trying to run after him. One after another, they were being blown back by the concussive force of the stream - a temporary solution, but one which would get at least some of the mutants off his tail for now. (1391 words, total 7556)
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Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Aug 2, 2021 9:31:15 GMT -8
The change in demeanour was abrupt. But not unwelcome. Perhaps back at the Academy, there was time to joke about such things - not this specifically, that was taboo - maybe about the stereotypical Johnny Appleseed and his science project that brought the win to his team at the big invention tournament. Those boys and their inventions. They always aimed for the biggest, baddest machine their brains could conceive. Other girls might have fallen for that sort of techno-jock. But Cerola preferred more elegant things like strategy, tactics, logistics... And Charentis was more in line with the literal jocks. It was a funny thing in Tuffle society. Even there, physically-inclined jocks existed. Not because they were gung-ho and physical like the Saiyans. But rather, because they approached athletics as an intellectual challenge. Always number crunching their macros and workout regimens to build the best bod in the most efficient way possible. Despite that, perhaps the physiological differences brought about by their physical activity still got to their big brains, and eventually similar jcok-like attitudes would develop. Perhaps pride at their perfected physiques? Although the techno-jocks had the same thing with their giant death-machines. It was amusing when they accused each other of being nerds. And all the same, both cliques had their own admirers... and the nebbish kids, who stuck to less grandiose pursuits? Well, the two sides eventually settled to call those kids the nerds. In that sense, Cerola was indeed a nerd. Not because she was timid or bookish or anything of the sort. But purely because she saw no need to pursue these childish games of oneupmanship, whether physically or scientifically. She joined the Academy to protect her people. At first she thought it would be against the Cold Force. As it turned out, it would ultimately be against the Saiyans... and she only truly succeeded insofar as she helped ensure the survival of her race. Now, here she was, working to rescue another member of her race. And Charentis was glad. Not in the boisterous manner she was used to. But perhaps, a demeanour she developed after the war. Cerola never really knew what became of her classmate. After the Exodus, the General had made her way to a number of other worlds, to oversee the safety of their fledgling colonies. Those last ten years were uncertain... The King had disappeared in the confusion of that final dreadful night. Dr. Lychee had assumed command of CONTINENT, as its chief architect and the King's right hand. Most were quick to follow in his steps. But others were not so inclined. The last she remembered of the political situation, there was a risk of a number of colonies disavowing each other due to strife within the leadership. And that was why she wouldn't dare to rest in peace. Her people needed to survive. They would not do so under such circumstances. And so she preserved herself in the Index. And now, her people called on her again. <<There is. And there will be plenty of time to discuss the matter on the way back,>> she answered. <<But I too am glad to be here for you.>>The hall was clear for now. Fenrir 1 made their way into the next room from the elevator hall. So close, yet so far. It was full of tanks. Most had been broken through. Mutants escaped, and now headed for that noise. That one single turret causing a racket. But those that weren't, were gruesome. Rotted flesh, no longer sustained by their biofluid. Overgrown, and compressed like tainted rations from a bygone era. Cerola could recognise some hair. Some familiar feature... These were all her. She understood on the intellectual level thanks to this discovery that this was the famed Charentis Facility. But it was only on viewing her countless deaths... that it dawned on the General. These were all meant to be her at some point. The mutants, the putrefied tank corpses... Were part of her, in a twisted sense. And it renewed that steel in Cerola's heart. The merciful thing to do would be to put them all out of their misery. That was when klaxxons started to wail. BGM: Ancient War Machine<<Fenrir 2! Report!>><<I dunno how to tell you, Boss...>> 2-1's voice was partly disturbed, partly confused. <<It all happened so fast. 1-4 was just minding the console and this... I dunno some kind of bug flew in out of nowhere. Button mashed it and->><<Need to know only, Dragoon!>><<You've got incoming from the four corner rooms. Axes. Three from each. We're trying to get them under control, but they're locked in to some setting called "Purify". Killing everything they see. Only the Site Director's creds can override it. Yours ain't working.>>The RA-151 Autonomous Combat Suit, the “Axe” - from ACS - was a latter development of the war. Descended from the MANGO combat mech, this human-sized war machine was simple in its design and programming. You either plotted instructions it could follow by itself - in this case a pre-written command protocol, pilot it online, or surrender control to a Tactical or Strategic Intelligence. It was designed for mass production. Simple but effective alloy plating, easy to replace parts, and sheer rugged reliability. A 40mm sloped SynTitanium shield mounted on its left arm was its biggest protection, complementing its plating of identical - if thinner - material. And while it was tougher and cheaper to make than titanium here on Earth, that technology was long lost, and it was still nothing against a Saiyan. Hordes of these supplemented TAS clone and regular forces in the last years of the war. While they were cheap and dumb, lacking the precision quality engineering of a Pomegranate suit, they made up for it with a highly destructive arsenal. Nobody cared if you lost a few dozen Axes in melee with a Saiyan because one misfired a Tactical Oxygen Fusion Warhead. If the Saiyan was dead, it justified that loss. Not every Axe carried an O2 nuke. But their weapons tended to be well up-gunned compared to the average war-era weapon. Automatic plasma rifle on your Mobile Warfare Operator? The Axe would heft a twin-barreled Plasma Cannon. Abysmal recahrge, but they were only expected to get those two shots out before getting blown up anyway. Automatic Magnetic Rifle? Heavy Gauss cannon. The kind you plugged into a tank turret. Plasma flamer? Triple plasma flamers... per arm. Suffice it to say, they were going to be far more dangerous than these mutants. Perhaps only marginally harder to kill thanks to their shields... but the ranged advantage meant they would be able to get a shot off if you weren't careful... and potentially demolish the entire sublevel. "Just my luck..." Cerola muttered under her breath. <<Use whatever other security measures you've got down here. Take out as many of those Axes as possible. I'd rather put up with extra mutants than those things.>><<Copy that, Boss.>><<Don't even wait for them to kill mutants for you. Focus fire on them at once. Remember your drone primer. Axes are glass nukes, not glass cannons!>>2-1 acknowledged again. "Fenrir 1, we have a dozen Axes on the loose. So let's move it up, and get to the target before they spot us! Move! Move!" The squad doubled their movement. This mission was now far more dangerous than simply avoiding muties. And what of her mysterious intruder? Well she had to say something... <<The war machines are loose... save yourself...>>All around the bottom level, gun turrets sprang to life. Up from floor plating, down from ceiling plating, and some emerging from the walls even. Under more ordinary circumstances predicted by the facility's designers - like a mutant outbreak or Saiyan infiltration - they would be working with the Axes. Never did they dream that all of these trap miniguns, lasers pulsers, and plasma flamers would somehow end up working against the Axes... and while under CONTINENT control nonetheless! Perhaps if the mutants had any sense left, they too would be confused... [1345/10477] Valentus The Charentis Project
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Post by Valentus on Aug 3, 2021 4:45:23 GMT -8
After rolling through several buttons in the blink of an eye, Paizu frantically flew away, slipping past the fingers and legs of the heavily armored Tuffle soldiers and fleeing as fast as her little wings could take her. Adrenaline rushing through her veins was at an all time high - and at least for the first few seconds, the little creature was convinced that she was going to die. After slithering back into her hiding spot behind one of the security cameras, however, the girl realized that she was not in as much immediate danger as she initially thought. As it turns out, Paizu hit something important, and the soldiers deployed in the room were now frantically warning their peers in the bottom level about the newly activated threat. Mechanical drones, standing on two feet, carrying a shield on one hand and a weapon on another, were pouring into the vat rooms, intent to destroy everything in sight - no matter the amount of force necessary. When you have to deal with something like that, the bug which just slipped through your radar and pressed some buttons was the least of your worries. Besides, would they even immediately assume that this "bug" was a person, and not just some insect? Paizu was hardly any less frail than any being of her size, a standard power level scale would register her in the thousandths of a single power level unit, at most. Fairies were magical creatures, of course, and would emit a much stronger signature if measuring magical aura - that is, if the Tuffle soldiers deployed had any way of registering it. A bug flying through, hitting buttons and then flying off could still be suspicious, of course - especially as this entire facility hardly had any to this point. It was not really a fitting environment for insects, after all. Paizu hoped that the battle down below would distract the Dragoons enough, however. And, of course, she prayed for Valentus to pull through down below. Because when everything was so disadvantaged against him... he needed luck short of a divine intervention to escape alive, much less with a healthy clone in tow. Once again, Valentus was disarmed, the crowbar which he equipped himself with now embedded deep into a bio-stimulant fluid tank. It was necessary when he had so few other ways of staving off the mutants, but it meant he was going to keep being on the back foot. What if an another swarm of mutants swarms this room from another direction, what is he going to do then? I'll... I'll find a way... Slowly, the Tuffle was starting to realize that he was in way, way, way over his head here. Setting all the ideas of snubbing the TSE and ISLET, and saving a poor helpless clone, aside... he's come here so, so unprepared, has he not? All he had was a sword and a fairy helper, while the Dragoons certainly arrived with backup, all the necessary equipment for disabling traps and advancing to lower levels, and... just, with more manpower, you know? There's a limit to how far mere determination and grit can keep up with that. Whatever. No point with fretting over that.It's not like he can turn back time. If he's already down here, then he might as well do his best and try to pull through the most unlikely victory. Not long after Valentus turned around and began walking across the second room, he froze in shock. Everything was wailing. The sirens, screaming with news of intruders on the floor. Soon, the first sounds of something shooting began to sound across the facility. It came from every side around Valentus - someone, or some thing, has just been deployed and was intent on killing everything in the entire floor, no matter their origin. Was this... ordered by the Azure's Dragoons? Surely not, unless they managed to code the facility into labelling them as friendlies and everything else as hostile - which he certainly could not dismiss, even though the time span in which everything was happening was rather... short. Or, the bunker was catching wind of the infiltrators and deploying everything it has to deal with the threat. In either case, the situation has only gotten worse, and the voice in Valentus' mind confirmed exactly that. The war machines are loose... save yourself...The Tuffle's answer was calm and simple. Not until we get you out of here.He can't just save himself, after all. The clone trapped in this facility needs saving, too. Valentus lunged forward, panels in the floor and walls opening one after the other past him, revealing turrets and cannons ready to fire. Though some did fire some shots at the Tuffle, their blasts trailing after his run, most of them remained stationary, and instead focused on the entrances leading to the room. Hell, they avoided wasting their shots on the mutants, too, even though it was their purpose to contain them! Is the bunker having a civil war? After running across the room, Valentus suddenly ducked to the side, standing next to the entrance which led from his room to the one in the dead center of the floor, hiding behind the wall. He could hear footsteps coming from the other side - whether it was a horde of fleeing mutants or the Dragoons themselves, about to enter into the central room, Valentus would rather wait first, and see what he was about to face. (910 words, total 8466)
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Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Aug 6, 2021 8:34:38 GMT -8
The intruder's response was quite admirable. It said much of his character. The kind of nobility you wanted in someone, sometimes. To be able to throw his own life on the line in order to save a stranger. It was naive in some respects, but no less commendable. If only they weren't opposed to each other right now, Cerola would have liked to meet this young man. But now was not the time for such concerns. No, she had one last message for him. The kind that she would have given him were she truly in Charentis' place, asleep and able to speak only from dreamy words. <<Thank you. You're brave...>>Fenrir 1 marched at double pace into the central vat room. There before them, floating suspended in perhaps the last functional cylinder, was the ultimate objective of this operation. The source of the readouts, which Fenrir 5 was no doubt in the process of decrypting. Most importantly... the living testimony to one of the most extensive super soldier programs in the Kingdom. She had heard much of Charentis' performance after their graduation. It was only understandable to keep tabs on one who represented the inverse of your capabilities, and see just how she fared in the real world. Not as a point of comparison for rivalry, but simply to entertain the matter of curiosity... "Contact! Looks like we found her, Boss," 1-2 took the words right out of everybody else's mouth. "Orders?" All around them, gun turrets blazed as they attempted to cut down the ancient war machines. Their scouters, linked to the security network, told them that two Axes had gone down so far, one from the right of the elevator hall. The other to the left of the rear room. The rest were busy either cutting down mutants or protecting themselves from the security systems. At first, they registered as friendly. But as soon as 2-4 in the security room ignored the multiple requests to cease friendly fire, the machines decided that these turrets were now part of the problem. "Secure the exit, and get ready to make a fighting retreat. Get in touch with the other squads and have them prepare." Cerola focused her attention on the vat. "I'll deal with this myself."1-2 followed his orders and established contact with the others. 2-1 had already taken the liberty of giving the rest a sitrep of what was going on downstairs, and Fenrir 4 had already dropped in entirely to help secure the fall-back point, even as Fenrir 3 took their dropship up to re-secure the mountain-top perimeter. Fenrir 2 meanwhile was rapidly trying to clear a direct path out, using strategically located turrets to erase inconvenient mutants without compromising power to the guns at the bottom. That giant on Sublevel 2 was going to be a problem though... The "bug" was long forgotten in the chaos that had erupted. Manpower was being reallocated in a way to expedite the process of extraction, and though it might take a while, every moment was precious. Cerola stepped up to the vat, such time having passed that its lower half was covered in mold spawned from the decomposed remains of mutants that had died at her feet. Drawing her card, she swiped it through the reader integrated into the control panel and typed in her PIN, by now quite literally ancient history. The screen came to life as the light switched from red to green, the machine showing her a seemingly endless stream of diagnostic data. Service records. Logs of deaths. Modifications. More deaths... causes of deaths... Yes. Her suspicions were correct. For Charentis, this was hell. And Cerola would end it. Though given the state of affairs on this planet compared to the peaceful days on Plant... was this really freedom? Or simply an escape into another hell? Her gauntlets' mechanised fingers flew over the keyboard. Although not as properly equipped as a Pomegranate suit - the fingers on those could actually split up so one could type with thrice as many as normal - it did its job, and was a testament to the Golden Gate Army's engineering. To produce a suit capable of smashing through a concrete wall with a punch, but still hold an egg nicely. Or for that matter, type quickly on an ancient keyboard without breaking it. The sound of gunfire and more exotic weapons continued to echo all around her. 1-2 reported something about the Axes closing in from the left of the elevator, and the right of the rear room, where they first used a turret to distract the mutants. Focused on her work, the general barked out an appropriate if forgettable order. Fenrir 4 reported that they were making their way to the elevator hall. Thanks to the work in the security room, they had less mutant trouble too. The vat was set to revivify its contents, awaken her from her cursed slumber. And while all Cerola could do was wait, there were other things she could do. Command could certainly use all of the project data, for example. And so, it was set to transmit to the Master Index, while she also downloaded a hard copy into her scouter. <<We're here. It's time to wake up... for real this time, Major.>>These extra tasks complete, she raised her magnetic rifle and aimed it at the open door leading to the rear room as she took cover behind a burnt out generator near the vat. A small puddle of biofluid had leaked into this room from the next one. Odd, that. Perhaps it was the other intruder's doing. She would have to be alert. Her scouter beeped, and true enough, a single Axe emerged from the rear door of the next room, preparing to make its way into this room. It never got that far. With a single trigger pull, a single 2mm ferrotitanium slug shot out from the barrel of her rifle at hypersonic speeds and impaled the machine through the head. It collapsed into the metal heap on the wet floor. "Defend the objective!" she called out. Hell was breaking loose all around them, and soon enough, it would arrive... but they were as ready as anyone could be. [1040/11517] Valentus The Charentis Project
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Post by The Charentis Project on Aug 6, 2021 9:33:29 GMT -8
Despite the noise around her from monsters and gunshots, shouting, radio communications and complex mechanisms, Charentis was still engulfed in complete silence. The updates the General had given her were almost essential, as seconds without one and she started to question again if it could really all just be a dream. She wanted to scream, but she was also desperately hopeful, for a member of one of the galaxies most scientifically minded species, she sure was tempted to pray. Yet then the voice showed up again, just as she was starting to relapse into doubt. <<We're here. It's time to wake up... for real this time, Major.>>By that point the reanimation sequence was already beginning. However her circumstances weren't exactly textbook, considering she was decades overdue for this process; the vat was crammed to capacity. As such, while it went through the necessary processes it didn't do so in as smooth a way as it might've if it'd been used as intended. The first step was actually draining the chamber of vat fluid, a process which started immediately once the General had initiated the sequence. The process would go over relatively without complications, save for some of the vat fluid being trapped in areas where it was isolated given the tightness within the chamber. Mostly a superficial complication, once the drainage stopped (it was really just draining into rusted and compromised pipes, and thereby seeping out of small cracks in the nearby walls and floor), the next process began. Reanimation. The intake pipe primarily used to deliver nutrients and keep the suspended clone alive and healthy also delivered a brief and controlled dose of a particular chemical counteracting the one that kept her in the state she was in. Clearing up her mental functions and returning mobility to her body- a state which before was much like what the body does when one sleeps, the subject is intended to wake up coinciding the release of the pipe, ejecting out and retracting down into the bottom of the vat. Of course, that was a more notable complication. She certainly woke up, off-colored eyes widening as they got to actually, tangibly see for the first time in decades. However the pipe was jammed, pinned up against the glass and prevented from retracting into the bottom of the vat. Already engrossed in a chaotic situation, and now with her motor functions roughly about her she squirmed into a position where she could reach up and manually allow the reanimation sequence to continue. Quite nasty it was, to have had the displeasure of being conscious and forced to manually remove the tubing. The final process was simply the lowering of the glass walls. The squeaking of it lowering despite the friction between the subject and it was obnoxious, but with the uncaring mechanical and consistent force the glass walls came down, and quickly after so to did Charentis. She collapsed forward, using the only bit of motor control she had at the moment to veer away from falling right into the General- she didn't want to be anymore of an inconvenience than she'd been already. Hitting the ground with a thud, for a moment she was still. She was only partially awake, the chemical breakdown of inhibitors still actively occurring. Normally a scientist would be on hand to deal with an infant in such a state, but such luxuries were missing here and forty or so years overdue. Struggling, she rolled over and tried to get up, only getting about halfway before she hurled up a wave of the most recent nutrients she'd been getting fed. A detail became apparent, one that now with direct access, Cerola had recovered from the systems that hadn't been released yet. Multiple of her deaths had been quick, caused by severe and extended food poisoning. It seemed as if at some point, her clones had adapted to be able to survive despite those conditions. The nutritional paste, a substance designed to last for years, had gone sour. Furthermore, at some point a structural break had been enough to expose whatever synthesizer developed it to air. There were... Grubs, in what she threw up. She didn't linger on it long, it wasn't really news to her- even if it was so much more vivid seeing it with her own eyes. After the brief setback, she amassed her ample latent strength to get up to her feet. Towering up to her full height of eight feet tall, she was forced to outstretch an arm to press against the top of her vat for stability. She hadn't needed to balance herself in centuries, even base functions like that deteriorated after such a long period of time. Other than the staggering bulk and stature, she looked terrible- matted, wet hair, bags under her eyes, off-white skin that could be inflicted by any number of food based diseases, the list went on. Now at least in a stable position, she'd speak up. At least she'd try, her first words weren't really articulated properly. "Awrt-" She stopped herself, another hand reaching up to massage her jaw and cheek a bit. "Al...right." Yet she didn't have all that long to recover. This was going to be quick and dirty, seeing the risk of imminent danger at any point. Her free hand balled up into a fist. Even if she was clumsy and afflicted with vat sickness at the moment, if she just threw herself at whatever with everything she had, maybe she could still help. "L...Leeeeh, Let's get out of here. I... The armory, if we stop by it mmmm... My guns might still be there." Her equipment as well, something which was sorely needed. After all, vats grew organic matter, not clothes. So, she had none of those. 967 | 4,290 Valentus Emargine "Azure" Cerola
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Post by Valentus on Aug 7, 2021 7:39:16 GMT -8
Thank you. You're brave...He did not answer this time. Bravery was good and all... but right now, above all else, Valentus really needed a plan. Here he was, disarmed, alone, about to face off against an entire squad of Azure's Dragoons. It would take them less than a minute to cross the room, step through the entrance leading to the room Valentus was standing in, and instantly spot the red haired knight next to them. Any sort of direct confrontation was going to be instant death. It didn't matter how enhanced he was, this was a squad of the finest soldiers of the Tuffle species, each one likely just as strong as him, armed with top notch weaponry and armor. The same reason was also why the Tuffle did not rush out to face the Dragoon squad head on, even though, if this were anyone else, he certainly would have. So, Valentus waited, only to suddenly realize that the Dragoons were not coming his way. No, they stopped, inspecting something in the center of the room, and speaking - though their voices were muffled by the heavy armors each one of them were wearing, listening intently allowed Valentus to eavesdrop on the conversation. First, one of the soldiers confirmed that "they found her" - with nothing else to go around, he guessed that it must be the one intact clone they were after. A woman referred to as "Boss", which, coupled with her authoritative tone, indicated that she must be the squad's leader, ordered the rest to secure the exit and prepare for a retreat, while she announced that she will take care of the opening of the vat herself. So she was leaving herself alone, opening the vat, and presumably getting ready to take the clone with them. Still a disadvantageous situation, but Valentus could work with this. An inkling of a plan popped up inside his mind, and the Tuffle suddenly backed away, taking a sharp turn to the left. If he wants to take this clone before the Dragoons secure her, then he needs to sweep her up in a single swipe across the room, then run, as fast as he can possibly go. If he holds the clone, and does not let the Dragoons hold her, then he can rely on mobility. Power armors were strong, sure, but Valentus hoped he can at least outrun them. And if he wants to sweep through in a single stroke, he needs to advance into the room from the side, rather than from the front. Then, he can enter from one safe room and leave to another safe room. The Tuffle entered the room on the left, where two Axes were being fired upon by everything in the room - and instantly ducked behind the nearest vat. The railguns and turrets all paid their full attention on the much more threatening enemy on the other side of the room, especially as, unlike the young knight, that enemy actually targeted them - so, Valentus sneaked through, keeping his head low and hiding behind one pod after another, before he once again crossed to the room on the left. Unlike the previous room, this one was a lot more quiet, even the mutants, scared off by the roaming robots and firing turrets, mobbed elsewhere. Here, Valentus once again turned for the entrance to the left - where, as soon as he stopped, he saw the woman officer fire straight at the room he had been in at the start of the conversation. The sounds of metallic machinery breaking and collapsing afterwards revealed that an Axe had stumbled onto the room and so suffered dearly. The opening of the vat was complete, and a tall - no, enormous clone of a Tuffle soldier stood in the pod. As expected, she was not in a good state - weak, sickly, struggling to speak and keep herself upright. But unlike all of her mutant sisters, she was clearly friendly. This next part... was going to be crazy. The dozens of pods opened and broken over centuries across the bunker meant that shards of glass which once composed the windows of the pods were now lying upon the ground, their sizes ranging from finger nails to fist sized pieces. Valentus picked up the nearest shard he could find, a few centimeters wide, about a centimeter thick and pointy on one end. Gripping it tightly, the Tuffle suddenly ran into the room, as fast as his enhanced body could take him. Now, there was no chance of Valentus punching through their combat armor with his fist, and he knew that. But, they still had visors - and as he ran, the Tuffle suddenly bent his arm back and threw the shard of glass at the Dragoon officer's eyes with superhuman (or supertuffle) strength - with so much force behind it, it had the kinetic force of a high caliber round. If he's lucky, maybe it can crack the visor and leave the officer dazed, even if for just a second. While he, however, lunged at the clone to grab her and, if successful, pull her over his shoulder for a quick fireman carry - all while running as fast as possible. " I don't know what they told you, but that's not who you think she is!" Valentus yelled to the clone. A few white lies won't hurt - especially as, philosophically, knowing how the Tuffles have degraded in the past eight hundred years, he would argue that he's saying the truth. " That's a trap! She'll kill you!" (921 words, total 9387)
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Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Aug 11, 2021 7:29:20 GMT -8
With the security feed linked into their Scouters, Fenrir 1 could at least tell where the Axes were and how long until they entered visual range. As such, it was technically not hard to figure out where to station themselves - taking into account of course the Boss's orders to prepare for a fighting retreat. Which was to say, their job was to keep the path to the elevator hall clear, and preferably, neutralise every Axe on that side of the floor. Cerola herself knew that there were more Axes on the way from the direction she had just fired at. But there would be a small delay until they arrived. Just enough for her to keep one eye on Charentis as her vat strained to release her from its containment. The process was slow, grating. And for the one experiencing it, agonising were it not for her sedated state. Well, semi-sedated. It was already waking her up, and perhaps with the help of the little psychic primer she'd given her over the past several minutes, she would be up and as atom as possible even with a case of vat sickness. True enough, the latest - perhaps final, if things didn't resume afterward - product of the Charentis Project - no, her classmate and comrade Charentis, rather, stood up. Dazed somewhat. Groggy, yes. But she stood up. To an amazing height of eight feet, overlooking even the Dragoons in their full power armour. Was this part of the project? Or a result of the systems continuing without their respective scientific overseers, fully automated, for centuries? Perhaps a bit of both? It was hard to say. Regardless, she was conscious and approaching sobriety. With a little adjustment of her jaw, the super soldier spoke in the affirmative and then recommended that they go to he armoury to pick up her equipment before leaving. "That's an excellent recommendation, Major." "Charentis" could be saved for off-duty moments. Sure. But for now, this was a combat situation, and she was a Major rearing to go. So ready that she didn't want to bother - didn't have the time, really - to wait for her stimulative chemical cocktail to finish waking her up. Under her helmet, Cerola winked, the gesture-controls switching her HUD to the map of the facility. <<Fenrir 2. We have the objective. Clear a path to the armoury. She needs access to her weapons.>> Perhaps armour too, if they made any for her. Fenrir 2-1 responded in the affirmative, and it didn't take long for the Security Room team to find the armoury. Top of the facility, of course, not far from the security room, but nicely situated within the restricted area. Guns and traps located in the most strategically efficient areas to create a smooth path to the armoury activated. Any mutants in their range were shot, burned, and otherwise dismantled. Fenrir 4 reported that they were now descending the elevator shaft and would be there in a minute or so. The rest of Fenrir 1 opened fire on another pair of Axes that had appeared. Another one entered the rear room and she put it down with the same precision. Well the armoury was far away, and she would do better getting there armed than otherwise. Cerola drew her backup weapon from its mount on her back. A war-era magnetic scattergun that they'd managed to secure from Caeruleus' armoury. It fired shells that exploded into a vicious shower of magnetically propelled shrapnel. Essentially a shotgun on steroids. A lot of close combat specialists used these with quite a bit of effectiveness. She offered this to her comrade. "This will have to do for now, at least until we can get you to-"Her Scouter flared, but it was too late. From the side of the room, a door left unguarded because there were no Axes nearby at the moment, a power level emerged. Something glinted in the darkness. A bullet? A sharp weapon? Who knew? Whatever it was, it struck her visor with the force of a .50 calibre anti-materiel round before shattering into silicate dust. Were it not for the nanomachines reinforcing every square inch of her suit, even the bullet-proof visor would most certainly have been pierced, and had head would have been a bloody mess. The general staggered back by a step, almost two, before regaining her balance. It might not have seemed like much, but that was the sort of hit that would have blown up somebody's head, reducing it to a fine mist. That she only staggered was a testament to her suit and its enhancements. A shape rushed over and attempted to pick Charentis up. It was him. The other intruder. Who else could it have been, after all? Unfortunately, her plan to disorient never got off the ground, given how derailed her psychic reunion with Charentis turned out to be. Not even a moment of misdirection she could put in his ear. In so few words, however, he was attempting to do the same to Charentis. "Dragoons!" She called out. 1-3 and 1-5 turned around and, seeing what was transpiring, broke from their position and rushed to assist the Boss, namely by attempting to tackle the intruder to the floor. He was too close to Charentis to shoot. Might as well use this bulky armour creatively. Even as the intruder's words pulled her own trick, she decided to nip it in the bud. Cerola removed her helmet, switching on the light and holding it up so that her face was plain for all to see, and began to move forth. If he was able to run with Charentis, she too would be running. "You said I was a good match with Johnny Appleseed even though I didn't like the Invention Tournaments!"That was absolutely dumb. But absolutely true. It was one of those nerd moments. Times when she would rather be exercising her tactical skills in the commander simulator, rather than watching the Techno-Jocks square off at the Invention Tournament. But then, that teasing. And of course all the athletic kids laughed with her. Well... all she could do was keep her head down and quietly make her way through that embarrassing parade of pointing laughing fingers, then make her way into the simulation room... Certainly, you couldn't fake an embarrassing memory like that. All this while the chaos continued to ensue around them. [1066/12583] Valentus The Charentis Project
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Post by The Charentis Project on Aug 11, 2021 9:43:32 GMT -8
Right from the start, things weren't looking well for the super soldier. The reanimation sequence went about as smoothly as it could given the conditions, but the circumstances surrounding her reanimation and the chaos unfolding was more than enough to effect her physical integrity. The first signs were her sickly appearance and vomiting, but things didn't get much better from that point. In a smoother op, they'd be able to take their time to get to the surface. Even with the obstacles she had no intentions of being a liability, she could push herself to the fullest, but... Still weak, a force blasted into her from the side. The power required to first of all get her off the ground, let alone do it fast enough to evade the Dragoons was immense. Immediately her eyes went wide, and any leftover matter in her stomach was quickly displaced in Valentus's trail as he tried to take her to 'safety'. She heard words, but slipping in and out of dizzy disorientation she wasn't she if she heard them right. Not who she thinks she is? A trap? She wasn't a fool, but she was busy trying to overcome her nausea and sickened condition. Even at the most rudimentary of detective work, if the General wanted her dead there was a million and one ways to botch the reanimation sequence. Hell, with her clearance she could've just had the vat decontaminated, turning her into a stew that'd be sucked away along with the vat fluid. Whether or not the General was who she said she was, that was a different question. Hearing the General call out for the Dragoons to act, she felt... Guilt. She'd become a liability, and she'd have to make up for it somehow after all of this was over. If it was over, even. Did she hold on this long just to die in the crossfire? That'd be the worst hell. As she was carried away, looking comically massive being carried by Valentus in comparison, the General made a bold move. Removing her helmet, she shouted about something forgettable in the past. Johnny Appleseed? Was that one of the bolt-jockeys? It seemed credible enough though, and as her weary visage regarded the generals from being held in the firemans carry, that expression was enough to certify her sincerity. If she'd had doubts to begin with, of course. It didn't change any of the circumstances. Her convictions not waning did little to free her. She was strong, but so riddled with sicknesses of the mental and physical sort until she'd had time to recover it was hard enough just walking and talking. A normal person would've been bedridden, but her body was something else, and her mind had been steeled through generations of war. Even still, she felt like death could take hold with even the slightest wrong move. Given the rather painful hold she was in, shaking with each large stride Valentus took, she could feel the remnants of maggots and crap in her throat. Her eyes looked tired, so, so tired. If she voiced his lack of a convincing take, would he just kill her? The truth of things were that Cerola's psychic communications with Valentus were completely missed by the true person that was trapped down here. She didn't know of his innocent wishes to protect, or his brave spirit. All she knew was that he'd burst out of nowhere and lied to her face while she was vulnerable. It pissed her off. As her head laid limp, blood dripped down. She was biting her lip hard to avoid screaming in rage, the audacity for after all these years... One of the few people she considered her equal- in a completely different specialty of course, was trying her best to help. She was... Risking her life to help, and this... Whoever they were was trying to take it away while trying to brainwash her. If she was healthy... Well, there was only so much her selectively twisted mind could conceive to pay him back a hundredfold for the shame and humiliation he'd placed upon her. But silver linings. He also didn't seem to want to kill her, as if he did, she'd have been stabbed or shot instead of being grabbed. There was more to the story. A story she had no understanding of, having been disconnected from her people for three hundred years. So disconnected in fact, that she was still expecting to return to a civilization of her people on Planet Aspic, not a disjointed underground military. The smartest decision was the hardest decision. Even if she had the strength to resist, doing so would only make things even more complicated for the people trying to help. She commanded a lot of power, and it often wasn't precise when she was emotional like this. She'd just be putting people in danger within a facility that could collapse with enough damage. So she worked with it. If she was taken away, she'd figure out a way to get back somehow, at some point. If they stopped Valentus, then, well, things would return according to the Generals operation agenda. Facing Valentus's back considering the firemans carry, she was staring holes into him. An intensity so great, that perhaps her eyes need not even be seen to feel that stare. What body language she had control over was tense, livid, and filled with signs of rage. Dignity was more valuable than life itself. The only coherent word she could convey without breaking down into screams and livid rage was a simple, glaringly pointed and towards Valentus, "Why?"Perhaps it was lost in the noise of the crossfire, even. 955 | 5,245 Emargine "Azure" Cerola Valentus
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Post by Valentus on Aug 11, 2021 11:11:08 GMT -8
Valentus was certain that at this point, there was more adrenaline than blood in his veins. Every second felt like an hour, a thousand different things happened with each instant, and the Tuffle was certain that his situation was only deteriorating worse with every one. It was not the first time he's had to feel such a rush. The experience flashed the worst possible memories of the final battle for Planet Plant, the streets of Compote City, and the desperation in the final moments of the Tuffle soldiers' lives as they were crushed one after another. Ironically, he's now had the chance to experience the same feeling at the hands of his own race. Thankfully, Valentus was making progress. The accelerated glass shard clocked the Tuffle commander straight in the eye, and while it was clearly not enough to pierce through her power armor, it staggered the woman, forcing her to take a step back and giving Valentus just enough time to sweep up the rescued clone. He knew that she was large, but now that she was on his shoulders, she also turned out heavier than expected, slowing down his movements - and what the Tuffle hoped could be a quick sweep and escape turned out to be a pulse punding chase. This was all while she was emptying the contents of her stomach from the sudden yank and carry, of course, and even though Valentus could not see her face, he could tell from the way she tugged onto him that she was not all that happy with getting kidnapped. The chase was a pulse pounding blur. The commander, recovering from the dazing glass shot, ordered her Dragoons to go after Valentus. Two of them immediately ran after the fleeing Tuffle, and as Valentus ducked through a door to go to the room on the left, they followed right after. In spite of the weight on his shoulders, he was sure that he could lose them. If he dives to the right, he will enter a room with a few Axes battling turrets. The Dragoons with their massive armors were much larger targets than a single teen-looking Tuffle with a clone on his shoulders, so the Axes may target them first, then he can escape through the same exit he arrived through, and... The clone was speaking to him. Her voice was faint, but Valentus could hear it - and she asked a brief, blunt question. Why? " I..." The question distracted Valentus long enough for one of his feet to slip on a puddle of vat fluid, and one of the Dragoons to take advantage of him slowing down, tackling him straight to the ground. Even as he fell, the Tuffle reacted immediately - he pulled the clone over his shoulders and lifted her up, so as the two of them fell, the impact would hit his back rather than hers. With a painful grunt, they crashed and slid on the floor. Valentus pushed the clone back and immediately grappled with the Dragoon who tackled him, grabbing the soldier's armored wrists to start pushing him away. Here, all of the enhanced strength given to him by ISLET modifications came on full display, if it wasn't obvious before. " Come on. Don't hold back. You can't kill me harder than the Saiyans did," he gushed out. Even in this moment of desperation, Valentus allowed himself to crack a faint smile. At least for a second, as it faded as soon as Valentus's attention got directed towards what was behind the Dragoon's shoulder. The no-name Tuffle commander he just tried to dupe turned out to have not been a no-name at all - in an attempt to convince the rescued clone that she did not mean her any harm, the commander took off her helmet and revealed herself as General Emargine Cerola herself. The "Azure" in "Azure's Dragoons". How could Valentus not recognize her at first glance? He was there, in the halls of the manor of his father, Prince and Member of Parliament Coronet Nectarine, as he met with the highest levels of Tuffle society and discussed the events of the Saiyan War. He was there, in the barracks of recruits in the Tuffle Armored Services, who gawked over pin-ups of some of the most beautiful women in the Army, including the brilliant General herself. And, of course, he was there, training for a life of service to the Tuffle cause in secret bunkers in the Southlands, where joining the Dragoons as a disguised mercenary was one of his top choices. If Cerola is here, then he has no reason to hide his identity, really. Chances are, they will eventually recognize him, whether by knowing that he was a defector or by comparing his face with any database they may have. " Why, you ask...?" Valentus muttered, his voice partially muffled. The second Dragoon tackled him as well, and yet, the Tuffle stayed on his feet, struggling against them both. " I am the heir to the House of Nectarine!" he suddenly yelled. " From birth to death, my ancestors were sworn to fight for freedom, justice and the innocent! And so, I am here... because I knew a soul needed saving. A Tuffle soul needed saving." Briefly, Valentus glanced over his shoulder, towards the clone. " And you will be saved." You... idiot! Stupid! Braindead! Reckless! Suicidal! You...Paizu was starting to run out of words which were not outright swear words. From her perch in the corner of the security room, she stared at the cameras which displayed the events taking place in the heart of the lowest floor. She covered her mouth with her hands as she saw Valentus spring out from the side and snatch the clone, and clawed on her cheeks as a chase began. It was clear, Valentus was as dumb as bricks and as reckless as... a comparison was failing her, she couldn't think of anyone who would be this willing to throw his life away. And yet, Paizu couldn't allow herself to see the Tuffle get hurt, or worse, get executed by the Dragoons. Perhaps the curse which bound her to him was to blame, or maybe the Tuffle was finally starting to rub off on her a bit. And so, grumbling under her breath until she finally summoned the bravery, Paizu went for the same trick as before. The last time she pressed one of the buttons in the security room panel, it threw the situation on the bottom floor completely around - so perhaps, if she tries again, she can... accidentally press a button which saves Val? The little fairy flew forth, ducking underneath the armored officers operating the security, and threw herself at the buttons again, this time at a different side from the ones she pushed last time, before flying away. (1134 words, total 10521)
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Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Aug 12, 2021 9:45:41 GMT -8
Fenrir 1-3 staggered back from the shove. From an initially advantageous position to a surprisingly defensive one as he fought to maintain his balance. The tango spouted something about how whatever could be done to him, it couldn't have been worse than dying to the Saiyans. People normally don't come back from the dead after Saiyans kill them. Unless of course... he was one of... them? Well not exactly them. 1-3 was born here, on Earth. Save the Boss, all the Tuffles within the Dragoons were. In his case, a number of generations down from a family that had escaped Planet Plant by winning a raffle for a habitat on one of the offworld colonies CONTINENT was building. As it turned out, that colony was on Planet Aspic. He'd heard all of the stuff about the heroes of the war growing up, how the government would bring some back through cloning to help fight the present conflicthere. And to his surprise, as he started his training, they'd put up fliers of General Cerola, who was recruiting Earthborn soldiers for a special long-term assignment. To fight alongside a hero like that. That was something he'd always dreamed of. And that dream put him where he was now. She'd spend time regaling them with tales of the original Dragoons. The Iron Dragoons, elite Mobile Warfare Operators from the Tuffle Armed Services who'd seen it all, even before the war. And now, even as he fought alongside this hero, he had pretty big boots to fill. At least, that was what pushed him. There was no room to rest on his laurels, because in the first place, despite their exemplary performance, it was nothing compared to the Iron Dragoons' finest. For example, they'd yet to drop onto the back of a giant space monster, march up into its ear, and blow its brains out from the inside while fighting against oversized antibodies. But then if this tango was also one of the cloned... why were they opposing each other? The word sprang up in his head. Traitor. What else could he have been? And as he spat out more words, identifying himself, it took no more than a flick of Fenrir 1-3's eyebrow to confirm his suspicions. That gesture opened up his Scouter's vocal and facial recognition, tapping into the ISLET database. Sure enough, there he was. Valentus of House Nectarine. A blue blood. Cloned some 16 or so years ago. Raised to fight again. A candidate for the Dragoon Reinforcement Program - wait, they were going to get reinforcements? Well... the ones that didn't desert would have to wait a couple more years, so... At any rate, he'd gone AWOL, taking some gear with him. And now, he was here. If not a traitor, then certainly some kind of deserter. How could someone with such a pedigree fall so low? He clenched his fists, the mechanical fingers of his gauntlets tightening around stock of his plasma flamer. Useless for its intended purpose of burning things, since the objective was too close. But good as a bludgeoning weapon. The Boss, however, seemed to have other ideas. Aside from the part where she took the serious risk of removing her helmet in the middle of a combat zone and turning on the lights, she said something that sounded like high school shenanigans. Probably something too embarrassing to tell the boys, given how childish it sounded. It at least seemed to be about countering what the deserter was telling the objective. Did that mean, then that they knew each other from the old days? Well this mission got more complicated. He glanced over at 1-5, who shrugged. So now what? "Nectarine." In the distance of the other room, gunfire continued to trade off between the turrets and the Axes. Time was short. But it didn't take a lot of it to recall that name. "Your father was a great man." Cerola remembered, of course. The Prince preferred a peaceful resolution to the brewing conflict. He had voted for it many times in the Lords' Chamber. And while she certainly agreed that a peaceful resolution was preferable, she was a soldier, not a representative of the people. Whatever vote passed, she would fulfill it to the extent of her duties and capabilities. Yes, now it all made sense. In retrospect, it shouldn't have been surprising that one of his pedigree would be so bold. And it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on here. She was of course aware of the reinforcement program. She also had certain deserters on her radar. But these circumstances were most unusual. She looked at the large, yet simultaneously frail form ofCharentis overhis shoulder. "I'm here to save my friend." Simple words. A simple truth. Yet it all would have made one laugh at how complicated the situation had devolved into. Two groups of Tuffles infiltrate an ancient Tuffle facility, infested by mutant Tuffles and hostile Tuffle security measures, to save another Tuffle, who just so happened to be the prime specimen of these mutant Tuffles... It was pathetic, one would even say. There weren't even any Saiyans involved in this. Every single conflicting side in play here was Tuffle in origin or nature. Cerola shook her head at the absurdity. This madness had to stop. "I don't know why you deserted your station. I don't care. We're here for the same reason, and it is foolishness to fight over it."She raised her hand. The two Dragoons, already raring to pounce, backed down. Not even a word of opposition. This was Alpha Company, First Platoon, First Squad. They put their absolute trust in the Boss. And they would march into HFIL with her if need be. "We're all Tuffles here. And I will not let any disagreements between us get in the way of what unites us." She raised her magnetic rifle, apparently pointing it in Valentus' direction. He might have been fast from his enhancements, but she had training of her own. The pull of the trigger was quick. Precise. The report of the weapon, loud as the crack of a sonic boom. And a split second later, the Axe standing in the doorway behind the deserter crumbled into a heap on the floor, the shot having punched right through its visor. "Let's go, Lord Valentus of House Nectarine. We can settle this later, but for now, our mission is to gather Charentis' equipment, and bring her to safety."That was when an alarm to drown out all alarms sounded off, followed by a generic feminine synthesised voice speaking up on the PA system. WARNING: PROTOCOL 29 INITIATED. FAIL-SAFES DEACTIVATED. ALPHA WARHEAD EMERGENCY DETONATION SEQUENCE ENGAGED. THIS FACILITY WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN T-MINUS 10 MINUTES. ALL SURVIVING PERSONNEL ARE ADVISED TO EVACUATE TO A SURFACE DISTANCE OF 500 METRES.Like clockwork, Fenrir 2-1 reported in. <<Boss, it was the bug! I was examining the security systems and it fired up the Alpha Warhead!>><<And let me guess... my credentials don't work?>><<Yes, Boss...>> You could hear the downtrodden emotion in his voice. Whose idea was it to allow easy access to these security systems, but make it so hard to cancel them? You needed the Site Director's security clearance to deactivate all of these things, but not to start them up? <<Fenrir 4 has secured the elevator hall, Boss. We're just waiting for you all.>>Cerola sighed and switched her frequency. <<Fenrir 2, 3, and 5, evacuate. There's nothing more you can do. Fenrir 1 will regroup with Fenrir 4 and make a stop at the Armoury before we go. Keep the dropships above the entry point, we'll need a rapid exfil. Go!>>She faced Valentus again. "We're in this together. All of us." And then, to Charentis. "Just hang in there. We'll make it out of this hole."The general put her helmet back on signaled to her troops. 1-3 and 1-5 kept their eyes on the doors leading away from the previous central room. Axes weren't going to get through here, not while they were watching. "You have Charentis, Lord Nectarine. Take the lead and I'll cover you."A number of facilities housing sensitive, or even dangerous objects, came with a 25 megaton oxygen-based Pure Fusion Nuclear Warhead. The Alpha Warhead, as it was called, was the only ever a theoretical insurance policy, in the event of total containment failure. Of course unlike Earth-based nuclear weapons, this incredible power was harnessed far more efficiently by Tuffle technology. It was one thing to allow an 25 megaton explosion to go off without any restrictions. Sure, the fireball alone would boast an impressive 4550 metre radius. But when the facility itself was nowhere near that big, and you had the technology to concentrate that power into a small confined area such as this lab, that power was magnified to incredible proportions. That was Blast Funneling. And that was only one of the two things that made Tuffle nuclear weapons extremely precise compared to other civilisations. The other one was its nature as a Pure Fusion warhead. Most nuclear weapons were two-stage, using fission-fuel as a trigger to generate enough force to cause fusion in the fusion fuel. The former would lead to devastating fallout that would contaminate a region for many, many years. Remove that, and the deadly radiation from a Fusion reaction would last for a short period of time before harmlessly dispersing. This was why the Tuffle Armed Services were very much fine with using nuclear weapons, particularly low-yield ones. Because they had harnessed this power to the precision of any other weapon at their disposal. Unfortunately, given the nature of the facility, ten minutes was not a lot of time, especially if they were going to have a stopover at the Armoury... [1638/14221] Valentus The Charentis Project
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Post by The Charentis Project on Aug 14, 2021 18:57:43 GMT -8
Figures. Those tired, worn eyes looked towards Cerola. Her vision had been blurry for a little bit now, and the voices were getting muffled, but she could figure it out well enough. There was a grace she carried herself with, a power that Charentis never could wield. As time felt like a crawl to the recently reanimated soldier, she realized just why she'd picked on her all these years, it was staring her in the face. It wasn't like the idea of leading hadn't been thought of to her, but... She'd never taken the leap. Years and years passed by, and she never had it. What then? What was it that she didn't have? Faith. As she watched Cerola work, as she saw her talking down Valentus and finally defending him, she knew. She knew she was in good hands. The Tuffle supersoldiers eyes slowly closed. Her consciousness was fading again, too worn by the elements to keep focused and alert. The comfort given by Cerola's conduct and confidence was more than sufficient to put Charentis at ease, the last nail in the coffin for her to drift off. Though it was a different kind of resting- not dead, that'd be terrible, but rather... Honest and true sleep, she couldn't feel the seconds tick away with her eyes closed anymore. But just before her eyes closed, she spoke in as mighty a voice as she could muster. Given that was only just above a soft speaking, without audio amplification tech only Valentus would hear her. "Wake..." Her eyes drifted shut a little more. "...me up if..."They were practically shut now, whatever tension she had in her body washing away as she rested over Valentus's shoulder. "...we need... get through... wall..." Her voice trailed off, and then, she was in the peaceful land of dreams. It was more refreshing than anything she'd dealt with over the passed dozen or so generations. A tiny oversight- considering the reanimation sequence happens during infancy, there was no need to ensure the subjects mind was dormant during the process. But this was the present, and even with her eyes now closed and even with the bags under them, she'd fallen asleep with a small smile on her features. To her, as convinced as she was that she was within good hands, she knew one way or another it'd be over in the next ten minutes. Either the pain and suffering would end, or she'd get a shot at making up for lost time. She wondered if she died now, if that'd be it? The thought would've been terrified had she been asked in that pod, but now as her frail constitution was being thrown against the elements, she wasn't sure. The facility was destroyed, so unless there was a back-up she'd never heard of... That'd be it. The thoughts did play a role into her dreams, but for the most part Valentus, Cerola and her team would have to carry the torch home. She mentioned the possibility of being able to bust some walls if she was broken up, trying to be as helpful as possible despite her condition. She too was raised to fight, and not much more. So surely she had a fighters spirit if nothing else. 545 | 5,790 Emargine "Azure" Cerola Valentus
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Post by Valentus on Aug 15, 2021 2:40:41 GMT -8
Valentus considered several options as he rammed arms and heads with the Dragoon. Though he managed to daze General Cerola with a powerful strike in the eyes before, from what he saw of her afterwards, it left no lasting damage on her armor, so there was little reason to expect that punching the soldier, even with a piercing motion, would do any more than dent. Perhaps, if he still had his sword with him, he could push through the plates to get into the soft tissue below, but, alas... The only thing left for him was grapples. Try to topple the armored soldier, erase his balance by pulling on the legs, and slam him on the ground. He did not need to kill them or even disable them, after all - just make sure that they can't immediately follow after him while he gets Charentis out of here. Surely, the Dragoons had countermeasures for this, however, and would strike back after the first unsuccessful grab. Thankfully, any sort of thought on how Valentus would escape from this predicament proved to be theoretical. General Cerola spoke up, and her tone was far different from what the Tuffle noble expected from her. Of course, she recognized Valentus' lineage, and immediately offered recognition of his father - it has been a long time since the last time either of them got to see him, but they both vividly recalled the peace-seeking Prince nevertheless. Instead of denouncing the heir of Nectarine as a traitor who not only abandoned his post, but was now openly fighting against the last enclave of the Tuffles and their interests, Cerola recognized the absurdity of the situation. In the end, they both were Tuffles, the person they were fighting over was a Tuffle, and both believed to be doing so in the name of the Tuffle race. All while they were besieged by monsters and robots from every side, a threat they would be far better equipped to handle if they worked together, instead of expending so much effort against one another. After the announcement that she was a friend of her, after the recall of her Dragoons away from Valentus and leaving him free, and after firing at him, only to take down an Axe creeping from behind them, Valentus muttered a single word: " You..." He still was not certain whether he wanted to accept Cerola's hand and join forces. The Tuffle noble recognized that, in the end, as much as they may talk about Tuffles standing together strong, they are bound to have irreconcilable differences as well. What will happen when they ascend to the surface with Charentis in tow, and have to decide who keeps the clone? Valentus was definitely not going to allow an another Tuffle to have their soul and morality crushed under ISLET, and he was sure that Cerola would not agree. Then, a powerful alarm blared, shutting down all of the Tuffle's inner thoughts with its screeching voice: WARNING: PROTOCOL 29 INITIATED. FAIL-SAFES DEACTIVATED. ALPHA WARHEAD EMERGENCY DETONATION SEQUENCE ENGAGED. THIS FACILITY WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN T-MINUS 10 MINUTES. ALL SURVIVING PERSONNEL ARE ADVISED TO EVACUATE TO A SURFACE DISTANCE OF 500 METRES.Self-destruction. Cerola and her Dragoons immediately entered radio chatter - Valentus could not hear the messages coming in and out of their comms, but from the woman's facial expressions, he could tell that this was not something they devised. They were just as shocked by the announcement as he was. So, at this point, there really was no debate. " Absolutely." Valentus answered, laconically, when Cerola announced they were all in this together. It would be foolish to continue their squabble now - if they really have to, they can do so when they're away from the blast zone. The Tuffle noble immediately hurried to Charentis - she was losing consciousness and mumbling her last words under her breath before another sleep. If they need to get through a wall, she should be woken up. " Please, don't slip into sleep yet. Whatever you do, try to stay awake..." he spoke up as he lifted Charentis over his shoulders, in a fireman's carry yet again, then turned towards Cerola. " I am no Lord," Valentus corrected her. " I have no estate to rule over. Chances are, I'll be an heir for the rest of my life." Without any further adieu, the Tuffle hero hurried forth. Cerola's Dragoons were keeping tabs on the room he had just snatched the clone from - and so, that's where he headed towards. Though he was on the lead, the General and her Dragoons would need to show the way, however - of the party, they were the ones with the facility and the fastest possible path out of here mapped out. All Valentus had was gut feeling. (787 words, total 11308)
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Post by Emargine "Azure" Cerola on Aug 17, 2021 6:35:08 GMT -8
Charentis would not allow her dignity to be tarnished. Even in her groggy state, she found the strength to offer help if needed. Even as she slipped back into sleep, she was ready to get up at a moment's notice. That was the spirit of a soldier. Cerola offered the magnetic scattergun to the self-proclaimed not-a-lord. "If you would prefer a more long range option, Mr. Nectarine, I have other weapons to spare. But this is perfect for our present CQB situation, and comes with a retractable bayonet if you'd ever need it."If Charentis' weapons were still in one piece, then they would collect them for her. The general led the small group back into the central room, 1-3 and 1-5 holding cover before themselves retreating through the door. The turrets were still running, and could at least provide some cover as any remaining Axes would return. Before they could even say anything about the strange turn of events, she made sure to clarify everything. <<Mr. Nectarine is a fellow Tuffle and will be joining us in the evacuation. We will settle any outstanding matters after we are safely out of the Alpha Warhead's blast radius.>>The rest of Fenrir 1, at that point more confused than anything, turned their weapons away from the other intruder and acknowledged the general's orders. <<I hope you have that winch ready, Fenrir 4. We're still making a stopover at the Armoury.>><<Winch is warmed up and waiting, Boss. Elevator hall is->> a cascade of gunshots as Fenrir 1 - and Mr. Nectarine - passed through the first room. <<Just about clear. If the counters are anything to go by, that's the last of the Axes.>>Cerola marched into the elevator hall and was greeted by a heavily armed squad of Dragoons. A truly welcome sight for sore eyes. Both elevator doors were wide open, the elevator ceilings pried open to reveal a pair of automated pulley cables. A number of flexmetal harnesses cycled up and down through the shaft along the cables, ensuring rapid ascent even by 19-20 individuals. Just what they needed in this dire situation. Still, the continuing spinning crimson lights and occasional repetition of the emergency message were a reminder that there was no time to relax. She turned to Valentus. "I'm assuming you recall your harness rescue training." At least in her day, ISLET made sure to put her through that entire training unit. Despite the fact that having commanded Airmobile forces for decades, much of her life was strapped into such equipment. "If not, Fenrir 4 will strap you and Charentis in."There was so little time. While she would have loved to supervise this herself, she knew what her role was. There was no room to let personal feelings get in the way of the mission. And yes, even though Charentis was the objective, her present role was to take point, not to keep the objective safe. She had been through years of thick and thin with Alpha Company. They had proven themselves capable of handling the toughest situations Earth had to offer. There was no reason to not trust them to handle this particular excursion. "I'll see you upstairs." With quick precision, Cerola snagged the harness that had just cycled up from the bottom. In the scant few seconds it took for it to rise up from foot level to chest level, she had strapped herself in completely. An impressive instinctive set of motions one could only get from a lifetime of doing things like this. Her armour briefly jerked as the harness tightened underneath her form, and just like that, she rose up the elevator shaft. In most situations like this, there was no time to stop the pulley from going. One had to be able to do what she did, grab a harness, strap themselves in, and let the motor do its work. It was slower than beaming up and down, true. But during most of the war, that technology was in its infancy. The general counted the seconds as she made her way up to the first floor. Ten seconds. Not bad. She stepped onto the platform that Fenrir 4 had installed into the elevator door, suspended like a diving board over the gaping maw of the shaft. In one swift motion, she undid the harness buckle and was making her way out to the elevator hall. As she procced her Scouter to relay the best route to the Armoury, she watched as Fenrir 1-2 rose out of the shaft just a few seconds behind her. He undid his buckle and was also quickly released from his harness. Soon, Fenrir 1-3 would follow, along with the rest. Not surprising. They'd had their share of rapid extractions. If this was just going to be another by the numbers game, then it would be another notch on their counts. <<Fenrir 1-A will take point to the Armoury,>> she announced. <<Keep our guests informed of what's happening, and follow our route.>> With that, the three-man fireteam made their way down the hall. Behind them, more Dragoons rose from the elevator shaft, and if they were treated right, Valentus and Charentis. Scorched corpses of mutants lined the hallway ahead of them. Occasionally, they would pass by traps in curious states. Either damaged and destroyed by mutants capable of fighting back, or with spinning empty gun barrels after they'd expended their ammunition. In both cases, the number of nearby mutant bodies showed that Fenrir 2 really had maximised the use of the security room. Soon, they would arrive at the Armoury. But just what would await them? In the recently abandoned Security Room, the cameras continued to run. If someone had stuck around to watch, though, they would have noticed the blue icons of turrets on the screen, one by one, get replaced by a red X. These weren't the turrets down on the fifth floor, busy engaging Axes and the remaining mutants. These were the turrets on the first floor... and they were being destroyed in succession. One might even call it systematic, if there was anyone to watch at all... It might have lost most of its intelligence. But it had all of its strength. And just enough broken memories to remember that the Armoury had just what it needed to perform its job of killing... [1059/15280] Valentus The Charentis Project
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