Alipier Observatory
Surface
Behind the doors laid an uneven staircase, which appeared to be carved directly from the mountain itself. The arched ceiling of the staircase was plastered with a dark blue brick, accented with ice and slush. Stray water had seeped from the walls and puddled on the steps, turning the narrow crevice into a naturally dim hall of mirrors. The staircase went down into the mountain’s core for a straight twenty or so feet, where another cracked door lied. Orange light seeped from the crack, bouncing back up the wet steps and out into the frigid night.
Dahlia pulled her scarf up tighter around her nose, glancing back at Keith. It seemed like the best option.
”Tell us what you see down there.” she said, taking a step back to allow the quiet informant to take the lead. The Scholar’s head tilted briefly upon hearing Deimos’ concerns, a blue eye casting over to look at them.
”Is everything alright?”
The resident book spoke up, sounding a bit annoying over the quiet commotion and being bumped several times. Soon, the usual holographic projection of OSC-01 appeared behind them, albeit quite dim and foggy in the snow.
”Fear, nervousness, pain, familiarity. Things I think quite a bit of your crew are experiencing.”
A moment later, the hologram looked at Dahlia, mimicking the round eye on the face of the book.
”You should learn how to read faces.”
The vulpine twitched his ears, letting them scan for any sounds that may be reverberating through the halls, but all he could hear was the gentle hum of wind between the wet icicles. He ruffled beneath his cloak, feeling as though this temple had somehow managed to be colder than the world outside.
”Unfortunately the familiarity part is one I’d rather not be experiencing right now…”
”Deimos, you seem like you would be quite adept at stealth yourself,” said Keith’s disembodied voice from the entrance, seeming to get closer to the expeditionist as he sought to cut off short his reminiscing. Many of the feelings mentioned by the overseer were ones the informant himself had gotten to know intimately during the course of the past almost decade, and yet he deemed them a burden not to be wished upon anyone.
”I understand you might be currently experiencing some unpleasant feelings, but it will be easier not to infiltrate this place alone.”
”We need your help.” Without giving Deimos a chance to respond, the quiet sound of stretching of rubber indicated Keith had run back inside and down the staircase, his footfalls soft and muffled by the gumshoes.
Keith wasn’t wrong. As much as Deimos enjoyed the occasional theatrical entrance when things looked bleakest, he knew that keeping back and making use of the shadows’ cover always made it easier to get around these sorts of places. You never knew if you could outgun a foe, but you could always run away faster if you’re never caught in the first place.
Though his ability to sneak was somewhat impaired by the clunking of his arm, the leather and fur coat that it nestled in the sleeve of was more than adequately muffling any squeaking sounds. He pulled a headset from his pocket and hung it from his ear.
”I already have my communications synchronized with the rest of the team. If we catch sight of something, I’ll let you know.” His words were rushed. He knew good and well that if he let Keith go too deep without him, the man could run the risk of running into that thing.
Deimos immediately bolted off, his soles already built to keep his steps from reverberating. Dahlia took a step back with a light sigh, looking back down at the book.
---
Alipier Observatory
Interior
Keith and Deimos soon found themselves at the basin of the subterranean staircase, standing in a thin puddle of water to either side of the cracked door where they were joined by Reman. The large rounded door frame gave the three men more than enough cover to take a peek around. The door itself was made of a sort of cured wood core surrounded by dark ornate iron, faring much better sheltered away from the elements than its neighbor at the surface.
Through the open door, they could see a small entry room, its floor with an earthy brown tilework. The parlor was small, with a half-crushed desk laid to one side. At the end of the parlor laid a large pair of iron doors, thrown open to reveal a much larger meeting hall.
The hall had a high, arched ceiling, cast bright with a citrus orange glow that was emanating from the band of trim running around its walls. To either side of the hall laid a balcony that was in good shape, underneath which sat aged wooden pews, not unlike those that would be found in a church. The entire place seemed… brighter, more intact than Deimos remembered. Holes had been patched, balconies repaired. Most of any sign of scuffle or damage had been… covered up.
It was quickly confirmed however, that the group was not alone. About a dozen figures could be seen wandering around the hall, dressed in a variety of clothing but most sporting a firm teal and black. The men and women, presumably members of that aforementioned Union, appeared to be… working. Many lugged around toolboxes, crates and machinery as they talked quietly amongst themselves. The three scouts had to take cover once more, however, as one of them turned around. A few moments later though, the member went on their way to the other end of the hall.
Reman was intimidated by the scenery. He was taking a quiet, brisk walk through the halls, trying to be silent enough not to attract attention. The process driver on his arm had the indicators set to silent, just in case he needed to do something drastic. He looked behind him, back at the rest of the crew, not realizing how deep into the building he was. Sort of panicking a bit, he took a few short steps back to the crew, gesturing to ask if he was supposed to go further inside.
Keith moved quickly through the hall toward a far away crate near a corner, confident enough in his invisibility to not be spotted, but being careful still not to bump into any of the workers. As he hid behind it, the informant briefly turned off his bracer to allow it to recharge and jutted his hand out from cover to signal the group to move up. While waiting, he took the opportunity to close his eyes and focus on eavesdropping whatever bits he could from the hushed conversations nearby.
Reman timidly pushed forward, moving slow to get behind the would-be assassin. He pushed his key into his bracer. Besides the little mechanical click of the latch, nothing. He was thankful that for once he wouldn’t need to announce his location to everyone nearby. The mechanic slowly pressed his hand over his driver, as the process display shows a display of his armor in a faint green hue, before he closed the window, giving a thumbs up to Keith.
Further into the hall, the trio of varied scouts could see a second room towards the end of the hall, separated by a simple arch. The endcap of the hall was rounded and sported an impressive… mechanical dome. Large, iron-crested windows ran the lengths of the observatory’s walls, the dark wintry night visible beyond their open shutters. A few more members of the unknown group stood in the end cap, observing and working on some kind of machine that hung from the ceiling- presumably a telescope. The members didn’t seem to be bantering in any kind of malicious tone, but they were all notably armed- pistols, mostly. A few custom rifles here and there.
There were, however, a few small robots… drones flying around. They resembled the Pixy units OSC-01 had brought, albeit made of a black metal and sporting a more triangular set of legs. One drone sat in the corner, scanning in the groups general direction with a piercing orange gaze.
The only one here with nary a fancy power to aid his ability to avoid detection was the half-fox who lay crouched behind a crate. However, he didn’t need to peek his head over to get a good idea as to where the Union workers were. The clapping of boots on the ground told him all he needed to know. Though even then, he had some trouble making out what they were saying Deimos took a cursory glance from the edge of the crate. He weighed his options and eyed the room.
He never remembered there being a church in this forsaken temple. Hell, even the layout of the halls felt different. He worried that all of his concerns were for naught, that this dungeon may in fact be a completely separate one from where his comrades lay. He didn’t know if he wanted to be right or wrong.
He took a breath and skidded towards a pew, rolling up and pressing his back against the wood. It took all of his might to keep his breath under control as he let his ears do all of the looking for him.
Some of the members in the distance spoke in… a dialect that was hard to comprehend. If it was english, no one could be sure. Deimos could hear quite clearly a few sounds coming from the balcony above him. For one, someone was eating a sandwich. Then, a few unknown voices started a conversation. A female spoke up, with an accent that was… notably Bivonan. “You know when we’re pulling out? Place gives me the chills.” A male responded, in an accent that was more than a little far-fetched. “Boss’s chrome dome said the blizzard should be passing soon. If we finish up before the next pass, we can extract.”
Before Deimos could catch the ending, a little buzz pinged in his ear- and Keith’s too. It was Dahlia. Aboveground, the stood shelted with a few of the others at the top of the staircase.
“You’ve been down there for a few minutes now, what do you see?
Reman was the first to try and properly get around the armed guards, although try is a strong word. It was more like he took a little step to move out of cover, and then hid back in when the huge orange beam came down the hall. Definitely wasn’t the scariest moment he’s had to hide in but it was definitely in his top 100. After the nothing he did, Reman gestured to Keith to do something about that big old eyebot around the corner impeding progress.
Keith pressed his index and middle finger to his earpiece, enabling the use of its microphone. He hurriedly surveyed his surroundings for any approaching sentinels before responding in a hushed tone.
”A large hall with about a dozen armed Union workers and some small guard drones. So far not much of immediate interest, but this place has clearly undergone some renovations, over.” With that, he brought both of his fingers from his earpiece to his bracer, reactivating its field and setting his sights on the corner drone.
This would require some thinking outside the box. If it was just him, it would be easier to simply rush past invisible while not bothering to disable the robotic sentinels. However, he needed to clear way for the rest of the group. If he tried to use his revolver to disable it, the grunts would hear it, and if he simply chucked a grenade in its direction, the robot would see. But, so long as the informant kept things on his person, they would also be subject to his light refraction field.
The solution was clear, then.
”Don’t panic if you hear static from my end, over.” After sending the message, Keith immediately pulled the pin on one of his EMP grenades, counting a few seconds to before its detonation and rushing past the drone, having the pulse trigger near it and halfway through changing hiding locations, reaching another crate just as his prototype bracer finished flickering its user back into visibility. The informant heaved a heavy sigh of relief he had been unknowingly holding in. One EMP left. As soon as that robot hit the ground, that would be the sign for the others to move up.
The sentry seized, falling to the ground in individual pieces with quite the clatter. A few of the folks in black and teal looking back at the noise- not with much interest however, everyone was carrying their own box of clattering tools. The surveillance disruption did catch something’s attention, however- as some of the drones in the local area stopped and turned to face the disturbance. Two of the black not-Pixy units moved to investigate it with haste.
It was hard to not hear the clatter of the robot hitting the floor. Deimos knew that any minute now, one of the guards would be sent to investigate the racket, and the entire scouting party’s hand would be forced to either press deeper or retreat before the three are left surrounded by guards. The fox boy hauled himself out of the cover of one pew, then swerved into another before flitting behind a pillar of stone. His head would pop out only to catch sight of where his teammate on the other side of the room was located.
”One drone down, but we can’t say the same about any others. Can’t hear anything of importance from these guys nearby. Over.”
The boy plucked at the sword on his belt while keeping his eyes glued to the structure around him in hopes of finding some kind of duct or alternative means of travel. He much preferred to not kill any of the individuals in the room, but if they were going to pose a potential threat to the party, he knew hesitation would leave him at a disadvantage.
“Their clothes are strange though. Bright colored teal with black detailing. You wouldn’t happen to know these guys would you, Dahli-?”
He had taken a step too far in one direction, and immediately felt his foot give way over a stretch of frozen water that had been left by the pillar. There was a loud squeak, and the fox found himself kissing the floor much like the disabled guard robot. It took all of his might to clap his hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out. He was only lucky his arm was bound in fabric, or else the resulting crash would have been much louder.
---
Surface
Dahlia spoke up again, her palm pressed firmly against the damp stone tunnel. Her train of thought slowly unraveled as it appeared she was being ignored- or something was happening.
”Yes, Ausse said they’ve been spotted around the area-, Deimos? Deimos.”
The Scholar stopped transmitting once more, resting her free hand firmly on her forehead.
A3 stood, or rather, sat at the top of the stairs, gazing down the glazed steps. His unit frozen, processing the best way he could make it down, after all, tentacles aren’t exactly optimized for stairs in the way legs are. Actually… yes, that’s how he’d do it, the solution was so easy! There’s no way this could go wrong, he decided.
With a stiff motion, he reached out with one of the segmented tubes, directing the pointed tip towards the third step down before bringing it down with a quick thrust. With an audible crack, it lodged itself into the ice.
”Affirmative, this action will yield an appropriate product” he said as he reached out with a second.
And then he felt it. The release from the unfortunately cracked and fragile solid, finally (and easily) shattering from the gradual increase of pressure from the multi-ton robot. There’s no way he could recover in time, he realized, and instead put the energy into coiling up into a lopsided and uneven ball, before continuing on a path down the stairs and eventually into whatever lay at its end. The tumblin' robot took down several members of the Downrider group with it, fortunately bouncing enough to keep it from crushing anyone flat.
Crashing through the parlor doors at the bottom of the steps came the boulder-esque A3 and sparsely flung members ot he crew, many of which landed in an uncomfortable pile as the robot came to a screeching halt. The hall was dead quiet.
Dahlia groaned, rubbing her battered head as she peeled herself off the ground- and maybe Miko, too.
"Fffuck..." The nearly concussed Scholar looked up with foggy eyes, trying to take in their sudden environment. The inhabitants were now
fully aware of the groups entrance, albeit more with shock and concern than any kind of anger. A few of them quietly conversed, one woman running towards the back end of the hall.
Before the group had time to recollect, they were approached by a few of the members. Except... they were offering hands. A rather gaudy voice rose up from the group as a short woman stepped to the side, allowing another to pass.
"Welll... it seems we have guests."
"And quite an entrance, too." A rather tall and fit man approached the pile of wary adventurers and robot, sporting a white button-up shirt and dark green vest, just barely exposed under a black and teal longcoat. The man's face sported fairly well-sculpted features with an pale olive complexion, albeit one with quite a large nose. A black wireless headset peeked out from beneath the parted pile of sandy brown and grey hair as two goldenrod eyes peered down at the group with a humored smile. Something about the man however seemed... off, visually. They spoke again, their voice carrying an air of... distinction.
"Though you could have just knocked, we aren't the mafia."
Without skipping a beat, the man continued, letting their elbow rest in the balled fist of his other hand. One eye cut back down to the group, looking for some kind of leader.
"But since you're here, might I ask who I'm speaking with?"