[Episode 2.5] Reprise

Pancakei

Well-Known Member
Staff member
Bivona - Southern Streak
ISS Downrider
18 Hours after the events of Union


It had been a hell of a day for the crew of the ISS Downrider, given the events that unfolded at Alipier Observatory only hours before. The weary crew had made a stop at the namesake capital of the rock they orbited to touch base with the Vigali and pick up supplies for the trip out. The captain decided it was in everyone's best interest to spend the night somewhere a little warmer, so they escaped the frozen landscape of northern Bivona for the Southern Streak- a sparesly inhabited tundra closer to the planets equator. It still wasn't as pleasant or as balmy as back home, but temperatures above freezing were a welcome feeling to all.

Commons Area

Captain Dahlia emerged from the barracks of the converted courier ship, brushing the sleep away from her eyes. The blue-haired captain gripped her freshly-tied ponytail between her hands, wringing the excess water out of it as the groggy captain made their way towards the galley. With most of the crew coming out of their incapacitated or natural sleep that had brought them around back to the early morning, she captain was starving for breakfast- regardless if she had to make it herself.

The captain noticed another girl in the commons area, the pilot and local healer Aradia. It seemed like she had less sleep to work with than the captain, more than likely due to the amount of injured crew members drug out of Alipier. The captain spoke up as she passed. "Morning. How are the others?"

The captian paused before reaching the door to the Galley, peering down the hallway to the cargo bay. The door had been cracked open slightly, but no one had been seen coming in and out for a few hours. The captain remembered the other affair she needed to attend to before they left this rock- albeit after breakfast. "And have you seen OSC-01."


Cargo Bay

OSC-01's green eyes flickered to life as a high-pitched whine enveloped her audio receptors. The pale Overseer lifted their head slowly to scan their surroundings- much to their horror. She found herself in the halls of the New Incipere Court, the tall arches and sunlight flooding through the peach stained glass gave an unmistakably ethereal glow to the manor. But something was wrong, horribly wrong. Tara raised a wing, feeling her abdomen down. Her robes were torn, splattered in dried blood and ash. The ceiling and walls of the manors hall had been scorched as well, bare support beams visible behind the wood and brick facade. The blood on her robes wasn't hers, not indigo. It was a deep red, the blood of new Duke.

As Tara lurched, her body wouldn't move with her. She had been impaled in the back, knocked against a bare rod. Tara desperately grasped at the rod, attempting to pry it free form her reactor port so that she could get away from this scorched wall. After many tugs, the rod came free and...

The power cable bounced off the floor, the snapped metal clamp sending a deep metal reverberation around the confined box as it hit. OSC-01 slowly looked around, reassessing her surroundings. She was in the lowly shipping container she had called home for the past week, a dull streak of amber light coming form the outside world. She was in no hall, under no attack- but she had no memory of how she got here. The last thing she remembered was running from Alipier, before a cascade of thermal and environmental warnings came in.

Who drug her back to her crate was unknown, but across from her laid the painfully snapped glaive she was missing. It laid in a neat bundle, shoved foolishly back into a feather-like shape but held together merely by a red bungee cord.


OSC-01 slowly emerged from the crate, taking in the mix of artificial light from the cargo bay, and the amber light of sunrise peeking through the back door. The Overseer racked their head briefly, driving away the dream. She could feel the events of the day already pulling at her, now wasn't the time for scattered thoughts. It was time for her to pay up.
 

club24

Well-Known Member
Galley

Since leaving the Downrider Oliver had thought over a great many things, for one why the hell did he leave in the first place. Oh yeah, cause he's an idiot that's right. After that it had been a case of, "I need to learn how to do more than make magic food because it's a joke at this point." So the conjurer had set out and found himself a mighty fine teacher, better than that old chef that's for sure, afterwards's he'd made contact with Dahlia and just about begged to come back to the ship. Having been allowed to return the edgelord had made himself at home in the galley, he may be able to summon magic food but nothing tasted better than self-prepared and cooked, magic food was for emergencies only.

Hearing someone outside the door he paused in his cooking duties for a moment to turn around and face it, likely to be a crew member who'd woken up in need of sustenance. Well it's not like he only cooked for himself, there was always enough for others from the dishes he prepared though last time he'd done this he was accused of trying to somehow poison people with magic food and everyone refused. This time he'd been sure to bring storage containers with him to put the leftovers in so he could save them for later, assuming people had the same reactions as last time.
 

ZweiHawke

Well-Known Member
Commons Area
Reman finally woke up from a heavy night of sleep. His dreams were less... Concrete after the incident. Plagued with symbols of unknown origin and focusing on his mutated arm, which consequently had not gone away since the encounter with the Breaker-type. The "feathers" that normally were sporadically placed up his arm compounded like scales, smaller and harder than the usual type. His nails had long since disappeared, being replaced with keratinous claws that surrounded the very tips of his fingers. The whole arm was colored a tint of pitch black and green, often sending small colored wisps of heavy gases underneath the scaling. Worse yet, sometimes Reman had faint memories of the symbols on his mind appearing on his arm.

-----

Commons Area
Romulus was not pleased. There's a monster among the crew, and they are none the wiser. If only they knew what would happen the next time he gets knocked out of his driver, or even just letting the spare Echyllis build up in his system. It was all but certain Marie didn't build a limiter into the system, and now she and everyone else would suffer the consequences for the miscalculation. The Artificer knew he's going have a tough choice on his hands coming up.
 

speeder01

Well-Known Member
Rhea was... tired. No, she had infact, gotten healed, and rested up shortly after the events at the observatory- and that, was the problem. She was now on an almost entirely different schedule from the crew, having herself, slept quite alot after downing some hearty snacks and receiving her healing. Now she had spent the day losing at chess, training in the cargobay. She heard it wasn't all that unusual for crew members to have wildly different sleeping schedules from one another- but at least it wasn't so bad that she was already prepared for bed- it had only been ten hours or so since she'd been up and at it.

She chose to spend that time learning the ins and outs of the ship, a fairly leisurely activity, compared to the training offered by Kieth that she previously participated in during her waking hours. A few supply closets at odd spots, some very convenient maintenance tunnels in the engineering area, and the vent system, etched through the walls and floor- mostly the floor- of the ship, seemed like she might, just barely beable to fit down into them if she got rid of her bulky clothes- and maybe shoes too.

Of course, she couldn't quite resist trying it...

The Galley

Some time later, after much shimmying was had, a grate in the galley behind the new cook moved... as quietly as Rhea could manage it, before her bright red hair popped out of the ground, carefully looking around with a bit of a grin. While she could totally, definetely just ask for something to eat, this seemed a bit more fun- she took the chance while the cook was turned towards the door, quietly standing up after moving the vent aside- and checking out what there was in store before having an... early sample.
 
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Burgmond

Well-Known Member
Bunkroom

A copper-haired alchemist (well, genuine alchemist, not a "alchemist",) sat on his bed, talking to a head-sized wad of corrupted flesh that replaced his left hand. It stared at him with eyes blacker than the abyss, right at Tom's rich, green eyes. Following that encounter, they had both taken turns throughout the 18 hours to determine the status of the condition of their symbiotic relationship. What they could conclude is that, somehow, this connection had greatly deteriorated ever since they left Ayenee. From this, the malformed symbiote, Juryrig, made a conclusion; "and that is why we can't just introduce you to these people!"

Tom, with a raised eyebrow to compliment his hesitant expression, couldn't help but feel lost with the argument. "... You don't trust them?"

"Of course I don't! We have to share the ship with a kid, a pervert, some guy with a malignant mutagenic byproduct passed on by a real mad scientist's two-by-four tech, a real supervillain, and that's just to name a few! Besides, I already established us as a dominant threat just so they can get us off our backs while I worked towards my goal-" Juryrig paused, remembering the situation has changed, and acknowledging it by changing the the subject of the real owners of their personal quest/destiny. "-I mean, our goal. Of stopping the Curse."

"Yeah... That thing... How far did you get?"

"Eh, not gonna lie, I haven't had a lot to work with lately. All I got is me, and using bits of me is like using a biased set of data as a control group. I need new material for this shit to even work out."

"Oh... Well, and like you said, we can't get help-"

"Ah ta ta! I didn't say that! I just said we can't tell the others who we really are. We keep being Big Bad Scary Juryrig, then we can work our way to finding some data that'll be beneficial to our cause. We just can't let them know you exist, otherwise they will take advantage of you."

"Nope, I just won't let them!"

"Bro, you're a simpleton compared to me. If someone pointed a dry road, and cried out 'I can't cross this damp, muddy road, somebody HALP MEH!', I'm sorry dude, but you will throw your jacket into the road before taking a second-long look at it. Trust me when I say this, they will figure us out if I don't keep you in check."

Tom's self confidence takes a hit from that remark. "But we can't just lie to them, Jury..."

"We can, and we will. Now scoot aside, I'm taking over!"

After a brief, grotesque transformation, the mutagenic swell reverts to a hand, and Juryrig takes over Tom, his eyes turning black once more. The madman inventor gets out of his room in a manic little waltz, more than eager to get some food on!

Common Area

Juryrig passes by the people who're there, giving them all a maniac smile and over-exaggerated wave. "Hello and goodbye!"

Galley

"HELLO, EVERYONE!" Juryrig barged into the galley, his finely tuned nose picking up the scent of food in the air. "My oh me oh my oh me oh my, what do we have here? It smells like something that's just to die for!"
 

Mikodimus

Well-Known Member
Commons Area

Miko for the most part was in a daze since the team had left that god forsaken mountain. It had been ages since he had pulled so hard from his powers. This left him half aware of what was going on around him. He would slip in and out of sleep as the ship he assumed was getting the heck out of dodge. After awhile he regained enough of his senses to look himself over. There was little blood but his chest felt like it had been run over by a juryrig. This only caused him to laugh and double over from the splitting pain. He started to remember the fight and that his chest took the brunt force of a gargoyle weapon. He was extremely thankful between his armor and vectors were enough to stop it. Else he chest and back would have gotten to know each other very well. What felt like forever, Miko finally got his armored coat off and removed his shirt. He could clearly see where the blade had connected. The blood line and bruised area around it was proof of his fight. He might of even had a broken rib or two but was not about to feel to find out.

He managed to get to his feet and make his way out into the commons area of the ship. He was looking to see if someone could patch him up. Then he noticed Aradia was chilling out in this area. Perfect he thought to himself as he took a seat next to her. She would see he was only wearing cargo pants. These hung low showing off all of his abs in addition to his sculptured chest. Even with the injuries he looked to be in pretty good shape. "Lucky I found you Aradia. I am pretty beat up but believe I will live. Though that healing touch would go a long way." He said with a smile as he reached into his pants. He pulled out his lucky flask, filled with his liquid juice as he liked to call it. "Little something to cut the edge." He said taking a sip from the flask. Even drinking Aradia could tell this caused him great discomfort.
 
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Arbitrated

Well-Known Member
ISS Downrider
Approximately 16 hours ago

Over the past night, Aradia had been rather busy, to put it short. As soon as the ship had touched down, she grabbed two first-aid kits and a little, leathery pouch with contents that clicked and clacked like tabletop dice. Not going to leave that behind again, she thought to herself at the time. And then she got to work, treating everyone in the best order she could muster: First the man with a sawblade wound across his chest, then Keith, then Reman, and so on.

She didn't waste time by trying to keep things comfortable. Miko's armor was... Difficult to remove, to say the least, but with the help of a Bouncer it didn't take long. While the little bot worked on the oversized man, Aradia took to Keith. His ankle was torn up something fierce, and the bone definitely got clipped. Nasty... But not something impossible. With a liberal application of antibiotics to the wound site and some gauze leading her actions, the little girl held on firmly and concentrated. Siphoning energy from her pouch of gemstones, she managed to properly close the wound - though the blood loss would have to be recovered naturally. Or through a transfusion, if there was someone who knew how to do that around...

The Bouncer seemed to have more difficulty than its commanding PIXY was appreciating in regards to removing Miko's armor. Aradia just sighed, saying, "Lemme just try this the hard way, then. That armor's thick enough he might be fine anyways." And, as it turns out, he was - by peering through the gash, aradia could barely make out a shallow cut across the front of his chest, which was already halfway-scabbing. He'll be fine for the night. "Thanks for trying, anyways."

Good thing I saved all this energy,
Aradia thought as she moved to Reman. Aside from the weird.. .Feather, scale, claw arm thing, he seemed to not have anything permanent - a couple cracked ribs and a fractured arm. It was easy enough to keep him steady with a makeshift splint while his bones fused together again, and she left it on when she left. Marie was next, and the gash in her side was messy. Sawblades are terrible weapons, with their multiple serrated teeth designed to tear material apart instead of cleanly slice it...

Deimos, awkward as he had been, was spared any embarrassment from Aradia herself. Unless he made it up, which was entirely possible for a man who ran, naked, through a sunny tundra. Soon enough, he was like the others,medically stable and not missing anything that wasn't already gone.

Everyone Aradia had worked on would wake up exhausted and famished, like if they'd exercised at a gym for a month straight without even eating or sleeping. Though she'd tapped into the gemstones in her possession, Aradia's healing required energy from both ends - easily sapping energy from the sleeping crew, to make sure they'd live to see the next day. It'd taken her all night to make sure she didn't go so fast as to accidentally kill someone by working too quickly...


Common Room
0 minutes ago


Sivins looked up with a start when Dahlia asked about the wounded, the captain having woken the light sleeper from her slightly-unplanned nap. "They'll be fine, but we should avoid getting involved in anything remotely close to a conflict for the next couple days. As far as the Overseer, try asking one of her... aaaaahhhhh... PIXYs?" Yawning mid-sentence forced Aradia into making a grumpy face. She hated doing that. Two blinks later and a large presence was taking rest right next to her - she turned to face Miko, having more or less mastered the art of mitigating reactions to loud people like the alchemist. Best to not get the attention that firey column of activity with this little sleep...

"Your armor's a pain in the ass to get off, y'know that? You're lucky that cut was as shallow as it was, because I couldn't get to it. So what, you got a busted rib? Probably, based on the bruising. Hold still for a sec, and don't drink any of that while I'm working."

It was an easy enough thing to do. Ribs were easy. Her tiny hands put less pressure than a sheet of paper onto Mikodimus's chest - not a second later, he could feel himself losing energy, and also getting the uncomfortable feeling of his chest tightening as his ribs hardened and re-solidified, and the cut on his front quickly changing from a scab to a scar. At least breathing didn't hurt anymore.

Wiping her hands on her bloodied and stained shirt - rest in peace, grey shirt number two - Aradia leaned back into her seat. "Now be careful. I might have the energy to do this for everyone again, but it might end up killing you if I try." Her pouch hung from her wrist by a fancy-looking string, which shone with traces of something silver in its composition. Something conductive...
 

META_mahn

Well-Known Member
ISS Downrider
Medical Bay


She never rests. And by 'she,' this was Marie.

The tingling in her arm stopped bothering her about an hour ago, the feeling of magically regenerated skin. She understood nearly nothing about medicine, so she couldn't help Aradia fix people. She was, however, reading over her documentation. Reman's notes. On the side was her own notebook, as she began to sketch the strange mutations that Reman was experiencing. Not the feathers; no, those were expected results...the arm was a mutation that fit the bill of nothing.

Anomalous, missing data sets. Perhaps the conclusion reached in the Nave had more of a base than she realized. Regardless, the arm was a question only one man could answer. That was for a bit in the future, though. For now, she needed to extract as much data as possible from Reman.

"So this is what happens..." Marie mumbled as she examined the mutated arm, her senses briefly being flooded with acrid, reeking smoke, before fading. Interesting. She copied the diagnostic information from Reman's driver. Hopefully, it could be used to further improve the system. She left Reman's notes beside him. Time to confront the red devil himself.

ISS Downrider
Common Room


A notebook's spine bopped the back of Romulus's head.

"I'm here for answers," Marie's voice came from behind him. "Both of your subjects provide nothing. Your thesis is lacking."
 

Dervicus

New Member
New Player
Outside the Downrider, Now

The morning light shone harsh and biting across the open expanse of the landing site where the repurposed freighter had made its temporary home. Across the leveled land, sparse clusters of the hardy native grasses crept up along the paths and pads making up the area. The glittering sheen of the early-morning frost still clung to the shadows cast by other vessels, but a trio of tracks cut through the pale crystals, left behind as a tall figure dragged two large, heavy black cases behind them, striding with purpose towards the Downrider.

This figure in question took slightly short strides, a slightly awkward gait resulting from the bulk of the two cases that dragged behind them. The most prominent feature was an old, well-broken in white jacket, with two tails flapping lazily in the cold wind that danced across the landing site, and a hood that concealed the wearer's head. It had clearly seen its fair share of use, a few off-color patches and re-stitched tears along the fringes of its tails. Beneath the the fabric, one could see the outline of stiff plates shifting under the white material, separated into smaller sections for the sake of mobility. The face was mostly covered by a ragged scarf wrapped securely around. Strands of dark hair fluttered free from under the white hood, shifting and blowing across a pair of hard, icy blue eyes that squinted slightly against the biting breeze. Under the jacket looked to be a ballistic vest, secured by a sturdy zipper running upwards. Their choice of pants was a pair of similarly worn olive drab trousers, the stitching running down the thighs frayed and slightly worn, the green dyes worked out to a notibly paler shade. Stomping along the ground, the person wore a pair of old, white boots, sharing the color, and seemingly material, of her jacket.

With the description and setting solidified, the person set their heavy black cases upright on the frosty earth under the shadow of the ship. The left hand reached up, tugging down the fabric of the scarf covering a woman's face. Her skin was a soft olive color, blue eyes showing bright amidst the dark bangs and warm complexion. A weak puff of steam shimmered in the air before blowing away, before she took a few long strides towards the ship's side access, left hand raising up and knocking heavily on the metal.
 

Pancakei

Well-Known Member
Staff member
ISS Downrider
Commons Area


"Good, good," Dahlia nodded as she passed by the healer, "I don't plan on trying to stir anything up while we're here."

Dahlia opened the door to the galley, taking in the dim lights as she eyed the returned chef. She blinked for a moment, recalling where the crew picked him up after the events of the observatory. Desperate times called for desperate nutrition.

The early-morning Captain waved her hand in the general direction of Oliver. "Bacon. Bacon pancakes, carbonara, whatever..."

Dahlia turned to leave the already cramped galley with a stifled yawn, before turning back to address a problem. "Rhea, stop trying to break the vents. They don't make these ships anymore."

The captain left, muttering something about "with good reason" under her breath. The Captain was ready to head on for the cargo bay, before the rash sound of knocking came from the metal side door. Dahlia muttered once more, hoping it wasn't the owner of some nearby establishment looking for a fine.

The equally blue-eyed captain flipped up the plastic shutter on the door window, peering out at the visitor. Their features were hard to make out with the low morning light, but they seemed vaguely outdoorsy. The white coat denoted they could be another scientific wacko however. The crew was certainly starting a collection of those.

The Captain cracked open the seal on the heavy door, letting the cool tundra air rush in through the small gap. "Morning. We aren't looking to buy anything."


OSC-01 took a step out of the cargo bay, making their way towards the commons area before stopping dead on their heels at the distracted captain.

Taking the moment, the Overseer slid back into the bay, waiting against the wall just out of sight of the hallway. They'd step in if need be, but perhaps this bought her time to settle."
 

Dadragon6

Member
ISS Downrider
Archive / Archivist's office

Crumpled and half-torn papers littered the floor of Keith's closet office over the past eight or so hours, after his training session with the vagabond girl Rhea. The informant's empty stare had remained fixed on the desk lamp's warm light for a few minutes now, as his hand made continuous automatic motions with a black pen's tip pressed against his notebook. Something had been bothering him since the crew's encounter with hostiles inside Alipier Observatory, and it wasn't the fatigue from Aradia's magical healing.

No, it certainly wasn't. Rather, he had been stuck thinking about the gargoyles they had fought. They were haphazardly built—fragile, expendable, and chaotic in their composition. There was no discernible standard to the specific materials making up their bulk, which means they were designed to be mass produced... by who? It was certainly not Oakland design, but the technology of those 'jammers', as Keith had taken to calling them, was advanced enough to overwrite the programming of a sentient Oakland Breaker-Type unit. Judging by the way they advanced upon OSC-01, too, they seemed confident it would work on her as well.

He clenched his left hand into a fist and slammed it on the tabletop. "Those Union clowns are up to something," was his first conclusion, reaching to turn the pages of his notebook back to where he had written notes and observations on BTC-03. Things like 'impenetrable armor', 'impossibly strong', and 'vulnerable to heat?' were scribbled all over the anatomical sketch he had made of Ferrus, arrows starting from several points in his chassis and dragging over to the sides where additional observations were written.

Keith dropped his pen with a heavy sigh. Several hours gone, and no major breakthroughs yet. He was tired and, quite honestly, could use some motivation to continue working—maybe he'd pay a visit to the child he had started to bond with, or go chat with Tara, the Overseer herself, to correct and add to his findings. The ex-sergeant could also make use of a visit to the Engineering Bay, to maybe order some replacements for his used grenades; perhaps chat with Marie, Reman, or... Juryrig. The alchemist was acting quite different from his (un)usual self during their confrontation against the metallic gargoyles.

It didn't really matter, so long as he could get to breathe some fresh air instead of stale environment inside the cramped Archive. With that thought in mind, he stepped through his office door into the Commons Area.
 
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club24

Well-Known Member
Galley

Sadly for Rhea she wouldn't get a chance as Oliver spun around when the captain mentioned another name, spying the other person he crossed his arms. "Can I help you with something?" There wasn't any malice in his words, but there was an undertone that suggested she'd better not try to take any of his prepared food. "Why sneak in to steal food I made, last time I offered everyone thought it would poison them with fancy magic energy voodoo." The conjurer turned back to finishing the dishing out of his own food, apparently satisfied she wouldn't be any trouble to his own breakfast endeavors.
 

speeder01

Well-Known Member
Galley

Rhea shot the captain a look of extreme disapointment as she blatantly outed her to the chef, but nodded and... put the vent back in its rightful place. She also quickly took her hand away from the food, having been within millimeters of grabbing something, just for the sake of it. "Yesss...."

To the cook however, she merely shook her head, and decided to do the ole sideways shuffle... she could always just wait untill food was actually being served, or just yoink some cookie dough substitute from the fridge later.... What was that about voodoo poisoning? No she was probably just hearing things, best not to think on it too hard. Besides, she had to go get her jacket and shoes from the vent entrence she had hopped into.... Where was that again? "Don't uh, mind me." She finally said to the cook as she took off out of the galley, intending on heading into the commons area- but instead bumpind right into the captain- and experiencing a truly frigid blast of air... again.

It wasn't all that unusual for her, but usually she was used to it- and was always wearing a jacket and shoes at the time. She couldn't help but practically dance in place as she muttered 'oopssorrycaptain' trying to save her feet from the, to her room temperature adapted self, practically supercooled metal flooring. And she didn't even grab one of those warm looking... 'snacks' out of the galely to take the edge off the cold, drat. She was about to take off straight away to the commons after all that- but stopped when she spotted a potentially new face... or, maybe just a sales-person from the way the captain was talking. Did door to door salesmen go solicit at parked spaceships too?
 

Dervicus

New Member
New Player
The white-coated woman smirked, leaving her two large cases upright and crossing her arms politely in front of her. The left side of her face were she bore that odd zigzag scar seemed to only partially join in on the motion.

"Good morning. I see you're using a repurposed cargo ship. Some sort of oddball crew with no overarching governing body, I imagine? Would you like a field medic on board? Adventurers and vagabonds are ever so fond of getting themselves stabbed and shot and such."

She seemed somewhat confident, stoic and relaxed as she stood outside the metal hull, breeze tugging her coat along in the wind lazily. Somehow, everything she'd just said was some measure of correct. So at least some amount of sense. Indeed, she seemed almost normal and sane, which the crew could probably use more of anyways.
 

ZweiHawke

Well-Known Member
"I don't get it. What's happening to me?" Reman was in a sort of panic, the growth on his arm had ceased to fade in the slightest overnight. He was hoping for some sort of update on his condition from Marie, though he knew none was likely. He briefly spoke up a bit before watching her smack what could be Romulus over the head with a book. He sat quietly, listening into the banter between the two of them.

-----

"Answers for what, exactly? I'm not sure what you mean by anything in this whole tirade." Romulus took the notebook and surprise, surprise it was his notes with a few... *additions* by Marie to try and quantify this new data. "Your math is a little sloppy here, by the way. You're not accounting for multiple signals, nor are you even indulging the notion that this stuff is DANGEROUS. It's not for everyone." Romulus tossed the book to the side and started polishing the Veteran. "Besides, Marie." Romulus whispered in a quiet voice that only She could hear based on his proximity.

"I know you're not working with the complete data set. You're looking for a different key than Cyclone."
 

Trainscanflytoo

Well-Known Member
ISS Downrider
Commons Area

Deimos was one of the last crewmembers to emerge. After the incident within Alpier Observatory, he had troubles looking anybody in the eye without feeling a pang of shame for not only running, but being forced to do so au natural. However, the need for food and a hot drink made it impossible for him to stay in his room for the rest of the trip. when he did emerge, he would remain quiet and keep his head hung low. Perhaps the wannabe hero was a hint humbled at the situation.

He bore no arm on his right side. His normal equipment was still a tangle of wires and metal merged with a sawblade like some torture device. For anything other than intense combat, it proved to be rather unwieldy. All he carried was the mug of green tea in his left hand, piping steam in billows above the rim.

After a moment of scanning the room, Deimos situated himself on the freed up couch. He didn't care to get any food before the others. It oft turned out to be a frenzy anyways. He could imagine some of his team members piling their dishes high with anything they could reach. With the mug set on the coffee table, he shuffled around on his belt for his digital slate, plucking its spine free and clicking the screen to life. It was a little slow for anything tactical, but it was plenty enough to give him news updates.

As he sank into the couch, legs crossed and head tucked into the cushions, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to the observatory. So close had he been to seeing where his teammates remained that he felt guilty for not finding them. This time, with the team in roughly one piece, Deimos could breathe easy. He set the tablet aside in favor of another sip of his tea. The warm drink was enough to soothe any residual chill from the potentially hypothermic situation. He could only be glad Aradia didn't comment on it.

He made a mental note to return there when the opportunity came. Mayhaps the working crew would be kind enough to let him know where the corpses lie. True he was a part of the squadron that broke into the building and turned the Nave into a scene out of a B-rate Sci-Fi Flick, but there was a chance they could respect the need for a proper burial.
 

Pancakei

Well-Known Member
Staff member
ISS Downrider

Dahlia eyed the vagrant up and down with a grunt, pushing the door aside for just a moment. The assessment was fairly on point. The captain scratched her pale chin, thinking the sudden offer over. The crew already had medial personnel, but some extra lifting and redundancy wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

The captain opened the door a little wider, taking in the visitor in greater detail. "You look like you might know your way around a firearm. Is that true?"

The new arrival nodded, looking up at Dahlia from under the white hood. Her position shifted slightly, shaking her muscles loose before returning to her confident, upright stance. Her arms remained crossed as she rolled her shoulders.

"Fairly proficient, yes. A few years of combat service followed up by transfer to medical division."

Dahlia nodded. The captain thought it over, but another good screening question came to mind. She replied through the door. "Are you willing to work on an uneven and entirely situation-based pay scale."


"And are you afraid of robots."



Her head tilted slightly, considering the question. Her eyes flicked across the sides of the ship and then back to the captain, cold blue focusing back on Dahlia.

"I've got no problems with pay. So long as a decent amount comes in now and then, at least. As for the robots? Depends how stabby they are."

Dahlia smirked slightly, casting an eye over at the cargo bay. Maybe it'd be best to gloss over the curren amount of stabiness aboard the ship. "Not too bad."

The captain opened the door to its fullest, looking at the vagrant on the ramp. The somewhat short blue-haired woman was clad in a mismatched jacket and sweatpants, resting over a pinkish pair of thermal underwear. With at least three witnesses about the cabin, the captain offered a hand to the combat medic. "Dahlia Morgan, captain of this vessel."

She stepped forward on her right foot, the frost crunching underfoot as she reached out with her right hand to accept the handshake. Immediately, Dahlia noticed the telltale feel of a cybernetic hand under her glove. Her grip was firm and rigid, completing the shake before she went to grab the two large black cases, dragging them up to the ship.

"So! Quarters?"

The captain finished the handshake, the metal feeling beneath the glove catching her attention and snapping her out of whatever fogginess she was under. What was she thinking? The captain stopped the vagrant before she entered. "And your name?"

She perked up, realizing she had... completely forgotten that detail. Too used to having a reputation, she supposed.

"Nivara Sentora."

Dahlia nodded and dropped her hand, allowing the vagrant now named Nivara to enter. "The crew hold is down the stairs from the commons area. Ask around if you need to, we can talk pay after I eat."

"Great. Where's the common area?" the medic asked. Dahlia pulled away from the doorframe, motioning Nivara into the open space of the ships commons. There were several flattened couches in the room as well as a large metal coffee table.

The captain left the medic to their- or rather the crews own devices. She backed up to the makeshift broom closet that the informant had made their own office. There, she caught up with the informant themselves. "Keith, when you get a moment, run a search for a Nivara Sentora in the Vigali's records. Background check for anything we need to be aware of."

Dahlia stood still momentarily, watching the newcomer as they made their way into the commons. It wasn't long however until she felt the familiar itch of being watched. The resident Overseers normally silent approach was ruined by the creaks of the aged flooring and the underlying scent of burnt electronics that had yet to fade from their clothy coverings.

The Captains brows furrowed. "Stop trying to sneak by and get out here, Osco. We've got work to do."

The harpy-like robot halted, assuming a properly royal stance. Folded in their right wing was a metal boik, as well as a bundle of haphazard cable and bands. The other was rather limp, the deep cut patched but hydraulic fluid not yet replenished. They spoke back to the Captain, but their disembodied head tracked the new hire. "Rested well already, Miss Morgan?"


Dahlia grumbled, her stomach reminding her of her crusade to the galley. "Not really. Vivid dreams about fires and a forest. Must be too cold."

The captain continued to mumble as they made their way back to the galley to grab food.
 

Mikodimus

Well-Known Member
Commons Area

Miko smiled at Aradia as he felt the warmth from her hands press into his chest. A short time later he felt his old self again. He also now had a new bad ass scar across his chest. He leaned back to get a good look at it. "That is some awesome trick to be able to do that. Can't thank you enough and I even got a bad ass looking scar to go with it." Before Aradia had time to react Miko had given her a soft hug. This quickly ended and he was back on his feet. He even did a few side bends to test out his new set of ribs. "Feel good as new. If you need anything just give me a shout. Own you one for fixing me up good as new" He gave her a quick head pat and was off on his way. As quick as he showed up he was already running off again.

He did not get more than a few steps before his keen eyes picked up fresh meat. New crew that would need to be shown the ropes. And who better to do that than the amazing Mikodimus. He walked towards her, with an almost hop to his step. Now that he wasn't in horrible pain, he felt like a new man. He walked up to them and give his standard greeting. "Hello there, welcome to Dahlia's fun house. I am your host, Mikodimus, pleasure." He had reach his hand out for a handshake.
 

speeder01

Well-Known Member
Commons Area- Couch Yoinked

Rhea quickly abandon the captain to the harsh, cold atmosphere, and the unforgiving frigid metal flooring. Neither she, nor the unusual door to door salse person- that the captain invited in even, as rhea could see once she looked back from the commons area and saw her aproaching.

For the time being the rather tired, physically and mentally, little thief, and potential mage, was perched precasiously atop one of the couches. She gave a short wave- to kieth, then to the strange sales person, and finally, turning her attention back to aradia and miko. She watched for a time, right up untill the unsolicited hugs and headpats happened. Tis a shame, that she didn't think to interupt sooner, for she could have saved aradia from her fate. But, rather than linger on that, she spoke up to the healer. "Hey, how many other things like that can you do?"

She indicated a free spot near herself for her to take a seat. She did want to thank her, but figured that the best form of thanks would be a nice conversation, and a distraction from the captain's muscle being a hugging loon. "And, like uh... can you teach other people, at all?"
 

META_mahn

Well-Known Member
“Yes, I’m aware,” Marie sighed. “I’m looking for the missing link you’ve wiped off the face of your rest of your notes. Unfortunately, you’ve left nothing. But if you’re going to play your game, I can play the game of cryptic warnings too.”

The Sage paced around the room. “Did you read page 51? I don’t think we have a choice anymore. Someone is out there, hunting the old Arcadia weapons research archives. Maybe they’ll discover the thing that scared you so much. And then they’ll take credit for it.”
 
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