[Episode Three] Defile

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Well-Known Member
Upper Reactor Control

Reman was shocked at the prospect, not as much as usual as he'd grown accustomed to hearing his and Marie's names said by parties he'd never heard from talk about the both of them, but shocked nonetheless. The woman in purple seemed not to want to harm him for a change, which was a nice touch. He took a deep breath and tried to recoup from all the panic. Reman came to slot the key in his driver after all the awe and shock wore off.

"I'm not sure how much I- I can tell you at this point. Not because I'm keeping secrets, but because I'm not so sure myself." Reman shuffled a bit and hatched an idea. The Process Driver slowly hummed back to life, with the communicator still active if a bit shaky due to, unbeknownst to Reman "I'm just still here because the people here seemed to care about me for once. it sounds insane, but that one I knocked the lights out of eventually came to save my life a- and I want to do something to repay that. I'm not sure what she wants, but it's about dealing with the fallout of something dangerous I don't completely know the scope of..." Reman stayed completely still and waited to watch the gargoyle's movements when he walked over to the box. The process readied itself slowly for transformation, the battery kicking to life due to spare energy from the cyclone key, starting to radiate green like it always had. The gargoyles were still lowered, and Reman breathed a sigh of relief. "Look, I'm just glad you and whoever your boss is aren't out to kill me like 90 percent of the starsystem is. That smug guy, right? The one Romulus told to leave when the observatory burnt down, before he tried to dump a gigantic incendiary round into my skull... Point is-! I think we're looking for arcadian robots. We're a salvage team, looking for ancient valuable things in old ruins, and we've stumbled upon robot after robot and now I'm not sure what's happening to them but we tried to sever one big bruiser's arms because he went... well berserk."

"But this part is a little away from... the whole crew. I don't know if you're Terran as well, but there's a declassified file on something you might know about called Project Round Table. Apparently there's a religious sect looking for the ability to empower themselves with these." Reman presented the Steel key that the crystal lady drained earlier. "See, the echyllis inside can be replaced, but the keys are much harder. I don't know what Romulus found in them that scared him into making these into weapons, but they were designed to be tools. A- and apparently him and I hold some sort of clue as to what they want. He wanted me dead at all costs before another crew member took on the echyllis concentration in my body..." Romulus was curious enough to build up to actually asking the questions, pausing a bit to rack his brain as to what he could even ask. Reman looked around, pocketed the steel key. With a more assertive but non-hostile posture, he made a move asking rather than starting trouble, he would ask to end it. "I want back to my group, cause as far as I know I've put them in danger again. And this time, I'm not going to stand idly by and watch them fight whatever's in this cavern. I have to help. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them." Reman eyed the cables around the box, and made note of the construction, he would be drawing the containers down to the minute details when he was safe. But he had another idea, one more sinister but one that his curious and un-cautious nature wouldn't ignore. The box was begging to be powered on and opened, and he wanted to see what was inside.

Operations Corridor

Romulus waited to take action and slowly backed away from the units, waiting to do anything when they stepped out of line. "Now you want to talk. Fine, once this is resolved you and I are going to have a very long conversation." Romulus's cautious and unblinking gaze baked up until he looked at the unit that spoke, and back to Osco. Her glare was perplexed and Romulus was very steady in backing off, very combat ready juuuuust in case. Doesn't help Marie wasn't as on guard as he was. Even in this whole fiasco he never let the bullet in his hands down just in case, just lowered his arms a little to be prepared to retaliate.

On the comm link however, Reman's voice returned, though a little cracklier and spottier than usual.

"I'm still here because-" The radio fizzed out and came back briefly after detailing portion after portion of the conversation with the shadowy figure Reman encountered earlier.
"that one I knocked the lights out of eventually came to save my life a-" Static. "I want to do something to repay that." More static. "something dangerous I don't completely know the scope of..." The static grew loud and long before eventually clearing up for another moment. "I don't know what Romulus found in them that-" For once, the gap inbetween was silent before resuming once more with grating white noise. "I'm not going to stand idly by and watch them fight whatever's in this cavern. I have to he-" The transmitter finally stopepd picking up his voice and Romulus grew upset once again. It's the intuition of both experience on his nomad life and on his project work. Someone had been spilling some beans that really should be left well enough alone.

ESPECIALLY the part about what Romulus found. Nobody was going to know but him.


Well-Known Member
Operations Corridor

"Hold on." Marie crouched down for a moment to sort through the conflicting voices. "Okay, robot wants me to do something, captain's asking for status, Reman's said something, triage, triage, triage..."

It took a moment for Marie to mentally organize everything that was going on. She decided to inform the captain first.

"Terrible! We found some old robots and they aren't very nice! Also, Reman's doing something dumb again!" she shouted down. "Okay, now we can talk. Not now, I assume." Marie stated, back to Osco via flicking around a bit of voltage on her exterior in morse code. "We need to pick this fight. Can't have them coming back around to fight us."

Come on, spear thingy. It was loaded into your memory. How'd you do it again? A simple switch, up and down. Except she didn't actually account for the weapon 'summoning' part, and though she nearly failed her single class in introductory magic, she knew that to summon something, you needed more power the further it was away, roughly. Which meant she didn't know if anything would overload, or glitch out, or if it would just fail-

But it was tested. The image of Reman pulling the handle of...something halfway out hit her in the mind, as clear as if she was watching him do it in the moment. At the very least, this meant she could summon something but not the entire thing. Maybe he tried to summon something too complex, too...complete. Maybe the solution was instead to summon something as complete as she could. Heuristics instead of the ideal solution. What would she summon then? Could she summon multiple incomplete copies? If she could summon even just the shaft of the spear, she'd have a quarterstaff. A quarterstaff is a working solution.

Warning: This feature is unsupported. Complete functionality is not guaranteed. The error message flashed across her driver. Shut up. You're going to work. Marie focused on the image of a spear. Handle first. Disengage safety. Monitor the load.

Error: Power input insufficient.
Then give it more.
Critical Warn-Erl6zãK¡U#ÕâWeapon charged. %Error 43: Name Not Found% ready.

The tesla coil-styled hilt first appeared out of the ground, crackling out of a small puddle of electric energy, then the sleek titanium shaft followed suit. For a moment, it looked as if the whole spear would be summoned at once, but then with a loud metallic ding the weapon's manifestation abruptly stopped, as the energy suddenly dissipated. The handle -- or about three-quarters of the handle compared to before, with Juryrig's spear -- flew upwards with alarming velocity, spinning into the air. Marie caught the improvised quarterstaff as it fell.

Her own driver, on the other hand, was not liking her current stunts. Its vents opened, beginning to run vast quantities of air through its subsystems, cooling the interior so much that a coat of condensation was beginning to form on the exterior. Through its exhaust ports, a cloud of ionized gas was ejected, causing the air around her to crackle and pop as the charges equalized slowly.
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Active Member
Lower Path
Slaughterhouse Warehouse

It was partway through attempting to take apart the cruel bullet casing to examine its inner construction that Keith was interrupted by Rhea making a ruckus in the other room, followed shortly after by her loud gibbering cutting off his concentration altogether. "Everything alright in there? I thought I told you to be careful. Rhea?" The informant's regular steps made their way closer to the airlock, now in worse condition than they had found it. "Rhea! Answer me, damn it."

Tossing the sharp shell aside, he pocketed the Arcadian glass tablet underneath his travel poncho to investigate Terminal Purple's mishaps. Captain Dahlia had asked him to look after her, and so as his duty, he placed it over trying to understand technology way beyond his scope as a lifelong soldier. For a scarce few moments, the silence was borderline therapeutic.

And then the live turret began to shoot, rounds impacting the solid concrete structure of the vault as the sound of firing primers echoed throughout the warehouse and beyond.

The ex-sergeant's response was instinctive—"RHEA!!"—he immediately took off into a sprint, vaulting over the destroyed airlock through the wedge created by the crystals. Behaviors to gunfire had been drilled so deep into his mind, his body essentially moved on its own, waiting not for Keith's racing thoughts to catch up to it as he opened a radio channel to the Downrider crew. "Captain! Security is active, I repeat, security is active!" came the report.

He hurriedly fidgeted with his bandolier, pulling the pin on an EMP grenade and tossing it across the room-turned-warzone. To fry its circuits, to disable it altogether, to delay its machinery, anything to buy even the smallest fragment of time to survive the autocannon's sadistic onslaught. Falling to his knees, the informant allowed momentum to carry him sliding forward to Rhea's position behind the pillar, hooking an arm around her midriff to scoop the child up into a fireman carry before up he went again.

He planned on running an emergency marathon around the room to outpace the turret's rotation around its pivot point, circling around from behind the pillar's cover to back toward the airlock and out the shed, only praying that his old bulletproof vest still carried its own weight.

He could hear their screams again.


Well-Known Member
The High Ground

Human Glas

Glas tilted his head in genuine confusion at Aradia's request. He had seen many shiny things. Many small shiny things. But the little one's cryptic answer only created more questions, the chiefest of which was:

What is a "triangular shape"?

His train of thought was cut off by the sound of rattling gunfire somewhere off in the distance. The other humans in the expedition may not have heard it, but to Glas' sensitive ears it may as well have been going off in the next room. His features turned into a scowl, and he turned to face the noise, unconsciously moving his body in front of Aradia. For while he didn't know what a triangle was, he knew that sound. For as long as he could remember, the star-people, in their big, metal ships, would journey to his world. They would bring their guns, hoping to take either one of Glas' packmates, or one of the local fauna, as a prize.

Glas and his fellow guardians would usually make quick work of them, having an expert knowledge of the land, centuries of combat training, and sheer power to back it all up. Afterwards, they'd destroy the ship, erasing all evidence, and reducing the chance that another hunting party would come.

The hunters' fear would usually give their meat a horribly gamey taste that Glas never cared for, but only a fool lets such a bountiful feast go to waste.

Trouble was afoot. Whatever was making that ruckus might make its way to them soon enough. Still a little peeved that there was no food to be had, at least until they could get the box open, Glasawyr nonetheless returned to the pile of protective gear, this time inspecting it thoroughly. Nothing in the pile really appealed to him, but he did manage to find a pair of bracers and greaves. He strapped them to his forearms and shins respectively, and practiced a quick series of punches and kicks to ensure the fit was adequate. With these new additions to his outfit, he would now be better prepared to block attacks while in his weaker human skin.

A new question:

Aradia, does any member of the pack carry barbeque sauce with them?


Well-Known Member
Upper Conduit

A purple arm emerged through the unfinished corridor like a ghost in full technicolor, followed by the full body of Juryrig.

Juryrig looked to his left and right, assessing the rather cramped environment. "Ah, finally... You know, the whole "ghosting" gimmick of this thing isn't super defined. Up is down, left is up, and all that."

"Could be worse; I mean, this place is kinda cramped, but it's better than... I don't know, actually. Probably someplace with a spike booby trap."

"Yeah, yeah... Hold on, you hear that, brother?"

"... Mmmm... Yeah, I'm hearing it, too. Sounds like Reman. And somebody else. I don't recognize the other voice-"

"You got to be kidding me; a speech? HERE? Oh no, the only one who can riff on tropes is me!"

Juryrig stormed down the hallway, following the voices that are beyond the door! The alchemist cocks the Blunderbass in his arms, and used the Phase's abilitiles to tumble through the wall, with the intent to phase through the walls with style.

Upper Reactor Control

As Reman cautiously examined his surroundings, the tension between the two characters... adjusted, as a very specific madman tumbled through, ending with him standing on his two feet.

"YOU! What're you doing, having a monologue with someone you just met? You know there's a time and place for these things! You know, like in the MIDDLE of a fight!"

"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," Tom thought-groaned.

"For fucks sake, you're telling this to a-" Juryrig stopped, and did a double take on the woman. And the gargoyle. "- One, two... You're telling ALL of that, to a woman who's clearly a drug addict, and a bucket of bolts held together with duct tape. Really, Reman. REALLY? Romulus is going to have your toes for this."

The alchemist twisted his body around, looking at the ominous, deformed specter with the harmonious voice. "Which brings me to ask; who are you? We've met everyone from robots to corporate zombies to real zombies to the Three Shmuckiteers. Why are you looking for a fight?"


Well-Known Member
The Tower
Safe, for now.

Aradia was able to make out the profile of a gun in her currently-held case. Maybe Marie would like to take a look at it. Or ol' Osco. Also, at least the uh... Spooky observer had gone. Oh right, Glas.

"It looks a bit like this," the child-sized caster displayed the front of the box, one finger tracing the keyhole. Then she realized that Glad wasn't simply ignoring her, but instead... Looked incredibly tense. Incredibly, concerning my ready to act.

I thought dragons were supposed to be wise and smart? This guy's like a freaking cat, Aradia thought. This line of thought was only reinforced by Glas's next question, which was about - of all things - barbeque sauce.

"I know we have some back on the Downrider. Don't think we've got anything on-hand. And I don't know a single preservative which could last ten-thousand years so the stuff down here's probably all crap."


Well-Known Member
The Slaughterhouse 9000

Rhea's every nerve was firing off in protest- this whole thing was... a trip. She tried to ignore how wet and sticky her face felt, and proved to believe that she hit her head at some point, probably on her own echyllis, when Keith grabbed her, but she gave even odds to crying like the little girl she was without noticing. At least she wasn't seeing any more visions of her impending doom in echyllis mirrors- however useful they could be...

But there wasn't time for that.

This? This was the time for impulsive, regret filled headaches as she gave in to her base urges and mentally strained herself to the limits- with one hand, she gripped her previously constructed pillar, only for a moment, to ensure it stayed within her... unimpressive "kill zone" long enough for it to matter, and with the other a few quick motions used the minimal amount of echyllis she could muster while still producing the desired effect- a series of hastily formed pillars jutting out from the ground, beneath whatever materials were in reach at the time- preferably large pallets of the stuff, to fling betwixt herself and the bullet spweing death machine. Right, and her transport, too.

But that, was just to delay, to give herself and her bullet monkey the chance to get just that little bit farther- both for him to get her within range, and for the time- a precious resource they had little to waste here. She couldn't count on the turret being a useless rust bucket forever! Even with whatever Keith was throwing around- It would probably recalibrate for its lost accuracy in seconds, or something. Just that little bit farther, to that pile of enticing, radioactive purple hiding inside of those conveniently marked barrels.

This is such a bad idea!

Those were her last thoughts before giving in, and grabbing hold of the hopefully Depleted Echyllis Containers- ripping one from its who-knows-how-long silent vigil in this place, into their newfound orbit around a little girl with a budding grudge against automated weaponry.

If she had anything to say about it, this turret was going to learn what it felt like to be on the losing end of a fist fight in Frozen Hell Bivona. That shield at the turret's face, was a problem however. So were the bullets, but there was less she could do about that other than a combination of hoping Keith was fast, and using one of the barrels to hold between them and the ceiling limpet.

She wasn't going to get through it from the front, so she got... creative. Or tried to, anyway. Her forming a haphazard sort of chain link tether to one end of the barrel, went fairly well! What didn't go so well were her attempts to remake the inside of the barrel, to use it to bust itself out into something... actually useful. Even if that "something useful" were to be a spike filled barrel. Unfortunately, she could neither do that, nor could she fling the barrel at the turret with any sort of velocity. That was a heavy barrel...

Oh god I feel dizzy...
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Well-Known Member
Staff member
Upper Reactor Control

The stranger hung her head over the box of conduit cables, lowering as they quickly realized the magnitude of their mistake here. The person jolted, yanking another cable clean out of its socket as she spoke. "I asked what you're doing here-", the figure braced as they pulled another cable, "not for your sappy life story. "

Still not turning their actual attention to Reman, the figure moved on to the next box, tracing a discolored finger across a red braided cable, making their way closer to the large labeled box Reman also crept toward. The person waved their hand with a slight twitch. From underneath their lopsided cape, Reman could catch a mass of glowing purple crystal burrowing straight out of the woman's back, parallel with their deformed wing. "I knew that bracket on your arm was familiar. I've seen others at the last site- a self-proclaimed triumvirate wearing them rode into the northern wastes looking for trouble. Called themselves nonsense, spoke nonsense. But they were useful... and knew how to not waste time."

“Speaking of not wasting time, I’m curious about what would happen if I were to open-” Reman looked over to the box before his eyes widened at the prospect, almost ignoring the trapped machine in the process of realization. “Wait, I’m sorry… Who did you meet? They weren’t speaking about being in some Biechelon something, right? You can’t comprehend how dangerous those people are- I can’t! I didn’t even know they existed until ab-”

The woman clenched a fist as Reman spoke out, both about the machinery and the trio of fools. “That is true. Cultists are a threat to themselves, they attach themselves to beliefs like it’s their lone purpose,” the woman hissed. Taking a pause from their… handywork, the woman stood up, revealing themselves to be nearly as tall as Reman himself. They had been interrupted just short of one particular conduit, leading to a particularly nasty turret. “From what I have seen, it’s better to put your faith in what is true.”

The woman turned her back to finally look at the mechanic, resting against one of the support pylons of the caged deck. The woman was clad in a dark grey and purple bodysuit, covered loosely in a cloak and welding apron packed with tools. Straight through their torso protruded a purple blade of echyllis, singing the upper half of the welding apron. From what little of it remained exposed to the elements, their skin was sickly and pale, overgrown with an unsettling purple rot. Their exposed face and arm were visibly marred with purple growths, geodes of hardened echyllis paralyzing half her facial muscles. Her hair was a partially clean dark blue- almost black color, with matted growth near the crystalline plague. The person flipped up the orange monocle covering their good eye, revealing it to be a deep reddish-hazel- and not in a favorable mood. Their other eye was completely glassed, white and blind. “And the truth of the matter is right now, unleashing that bound machinery isn’t going to help you, your crew, or I. I know what you really want, but pulling that lever is going to put us all in more danger than you could ever hope to stop.”

"Then I need you to be honest with me. Who or what's in the box, and why do you think it's dangerous? Everything that's happened so far is because nobody's being completely truthful." Reman stepped back away from the box and waited.

The alien woman crossed her decayed arm over their chest, resting atop the protrusion of echylllis bisecting their torso. Hanging from below their neck was an ID card, warped and scorched, Only a few slivers of the card remained clear, with its purpose unknown. A- LI- OTH. “If the markings are accurate, you’re standing next to the last Warden this prison ever had, only brought out in emergencies. Wake it up, and all my work at dismantling security will be in vain.”

They shrugged. “It would be painful for at least one of us.” She raised her head momentarily, as if seeing something out of her… bad eye. “If you don’t believe me, there is a four in five chance a friend of yours is on their way to make things worse.”

Right on beat, Juryrig burst through the door from the ventilation shaft into the confined control apparatus. Any feeling of patience was drained from the woman's already deathly visage as she closed her good eye. Be hospitable, the idiot said. "Alioth is what I am to referred as." The woman raised her hand, pointing towards Reman through a thick, heat-resistant glove. "Your friend Reman and I were having a- nice conversation about him activating every possible security system in this prison to full automation." It was clear the person known as Alioth didn't care for Juryrig's presence. There was something particular about him, an instability on the scale even his crewmates couldn't see.

Tower > Tunnels

Dahlia fiddled with her radio as she walked towards Marie, catching odd glimpses of the conversation Reman was having. It would seem the amount of electrical interference coming form the reactor and architecture of the area was preventing very clear messages. "Right, units found." Keith's message was reduced to a single syllable or two of noise, concern lighting her eyes. She huffed as she picked up the pace, yelling back to Aradia and Glas, who were making their way from the tower. "Scratch the armory for now, things aren't looking good. I've started uploading the data we've been collecting in case we need to turn and run, but it will take some time. Did you two find anything of interest in there?"

Operations Corridor

The Overseer paused, listening in on Reman's static-laden message. They were certainly close, wherever they were. OSC-01 glanced back at the two. "One of us is significantly more saw resistant, I'll evaluate." OSC-01 stepped forward, pausing briefly before rounding the corner into Operations with a half-folded glaive concealed behind their robes.

The room was wide and round, built around a central column housing some kind of glowing generator, spinning and rattling with age. Large metal and rubber arches bisected the room into multiple compartments, housing multiple storage compartments, doors, and monitors of varying degrees of decay. Triangular white tube lights bathed the area in a flickering yellow light, contrasting the blue glow of the reactor.


What laid ahead of the group was a surprisingly... non-hostile arrangement of figures. Multiple Oakland units laid scattered about the room, only some of which were active. Upon the Overseers entry, the two Grunts from the tunnel turned around once more. They resembled the Pixy Bouncers that OSC-01 herself had dominon over, but were lighter and built as one piece with no floating parts. A far-less expensive build quality was notable, but they were still solid enough and easilty repairable to work long projects in harsh environments without much overhead. The insect-like biped droids revved up their forearm saws with a series of disgruntled beeps, but were stopped before approach. "Nnnno," came the voice again.

The two grunts peeled back, revealing an Overseer hunched over behind them. Similar to the Grunts, the Overseer themselves was of a much cheaper build- not unlike the disguise OSC-01 pulled back at Alipier Observatory. The yellow, grey and green machine was hunched over another Grunt, which laid inactive on the floor. "Whatever they are- they arrrrre not ---risk--- a f-fight." Several of the units in the area were combing through the room; punching open doors, looking for materials- not unlike the Downriders. The Rogue Overseer was busy working with the Grunt, appearing to be... resuscitating them. Cables were strewn about the floor, wired into conduit running from the reactor.

OSC-01 glanced over at Romulus and Marie, folding the half glaive with a small motion. She quickly turned her attention back to the Rogue Overseer. "Why haven't you responded to any identification calls, rogue unit?"

The Rogue Overseer snapped their head with a jolt, looking at OSC-01 directly but not moving from their work. Their metal faceplate had been partially spit, with a myriad of scratches carved through the high-visibility paint located around the eye and ear receptors. Two unsteady cornflower eyes looked back at the other Overseer. "Y-YOU are the rogue seer," shouted the Rogue Overseer. The robot twitched, lifting a wing at OSC-01. Unlike the latter, their wing consisted of interlocked metal feathers, bound around a central joint with thin rods. Concealed tools laid within each wing, exposed from beneath their bent and battered casing. "I... don't know what you- are, but you are n.n.not one of- us-ss. One of, me..."

The robots voice trailed off as they looked back down at the collapsed Grunt, with an almost attached gaze. They quickly resumed their work. OSC-01 paused before prodding further, contemplating those words for a second as she gazed back at Romulus and company. "This is not standard Overseer behavior. Clear instability. Still, they don't seem interested in killing. Proceed with caution."


Having lost its original target, the now freed turret targeted Keith quickly upon his entrance into the room, its twin barrels releasing a burst of death in his direction. Multiple bullets impacted the ground around him, one grazing his left shin, leaving a bloody cut in the informants leg. The EMP grenade still hit true, being shot out of the air as it approached the turret. The electric blast was silent to the room, but the turret was stopped dead cold in its tracks. For several seconds, there was no movement from the turret. Instead of reactivating, a metal band reeled itself in, pulling the turret with it. With a mechanical snap, the hatch the turret had been hanging from shut, leaving nothing behind but hazard striped metal and an orange triangular warning, adorned with two barrel marks and a line of faded Arcadian script. It was faint, but machinery could be heard behind those doors- the two did not have long to plan.

Rhea's movement of the barrels was a bit more strenuous then she had hoped, realizing quickly that the barrels were indeed full. The one she had been influencing soon collapsed to the floor with a heavy, sloshing thud. The barrels were deeply insulated, made of multiple layers of metal, polymer, and who knows what else. Along the blue-stained viewing window, Rhea could see multiple health warnings attached to the barrel- enough to take up an entire quarter of it in illegible information alone. The only thing she had time to subconsciously notice from the translations were the words CONDENSED ECHYLFUEL, 120-EL. While cracking open the barrel was not possible with her bare hands, there was still enough stray Echyllis particles in the area to create an improvised weapon.


Approximately 20 to 30 seconds after being reeled back in, the turret bay doors opened wide once more. With a hearty snap, the turret unfolded once more, restored- but looking quite different. It did not pay mind to either of the two intruders, now housed in a slightly bulkier mounting bracket. The turret rattled and surged in an almost uneasily organic fashion, lowering even more as a folded metal leg jutted out form the housing- and then another, and then three more. The now dreadfully mobile turret leapt from the ceiling, landing on its feet with a loud crunch.

The shielded turret turned light tank steadied itself on its five legs, quickly gaining its bearings as is took in the environment. Without another pause it began hunting down the two, each footstep clacking heavily against the concrete and metal floor. It will find them, and when it does, it will hurt.


Well-Known Member
Upper Reactor Control

"Jury! If what she says is correct I'm the source of trouble once again. I flicked practically every switch up there to keep this place moving, and turns out it might be one of those manual labor deals." Reman checked the now functional process, drained a little from the previous encounter but running at full capacity once more. He put up a finger in the air and stepped further back from the bots. "Pardon me for a second, don't be alarmed by this, but I need to be back in suit. I'd reccomend to stay still and- cover your eyes." After a little embarrasment, he checked diagnostics on the transformation sector. The Mechanic knew something was about to happen, wisely deciding anything juryrig was going to get himself involved with wasn't worth being unarmored especially with an 'enemy' in close proximity. The well-meaning mechanic pulled back on the lever and engaged the transformation system, sending the projectile out as normal, but as the undersuit formed, the wind in the cave kicked up and formed the cyclone as his first driver would, sending the loose cables across the floor and loosening some of the active ones. The chartreuse suit formed over the mechanic, ending with a brief burst fo air before the cave returned to normal local pressure. The feeling in his soul was one of panic and purpose, ready to do whatever it takes to keep his well- friends alive.

"I don't know how I'm going to convince you to come with me, but that turret at the entrance likely wasn't destroyed, and anyone near those things are likely in danger." Reman stood his ground, watching in conserving awe at the crazy bastard who 'saved' his life, and the unbroken piercing gaze of Alioth as he entered.


Romulus kept his hand on his bullet as he watched, slowly contemplating what he should do. It also downed on Romulus that Marie had encoded another limit breaker into his supposedly airtight system. It was like a horrible nightmare repeating itself, watching the absolute foolishness of his former Assistant. Romulus angrily whispered to Marie as if to scold his former assistant. "I thought you and I TALKED about this- Am I going to have to block off all of your functions at the HARDWARE level?" It was nostalgic in a twisted way, him talking to his assistant on what to do for experiments and potentially dangerous situations. She also had an actual weapon to fend for herself, and nobody can be too mad at that in a tense situation like this.

"What do you mean, not one of us? Clarify, unidentified Overseer unit." Romulus was harsh but cautionary.


Well-Known Member
Upper Control


As of now, Tom is sitting in a pretty nice armchair. Looking both concerned and a tinge stressed. "Juryrig."

Juryrig didn't empathize with Tom. "Tom."

Tom put his hands together, taking one big inhale, and then pointed them both at the amalgamated humanoid at the controls. "Juryrig."

"Yeah yeah, scary lady. So what if I ruffled those feathers of hers! Oh gods, just LOOK at those things!"

With a simple, stretch-and-squish motion, Juryrig brought down a monitor closer to eye level, swiveling for Tom to see. "I mean, DAMN. Those are barely wings anymore. She's put on so many pounds in sheer crystals that I don't think she can even fly with those damaged goods of hers... Killing her would make for a nice autopsy subject."

"M hm? And?"

"... Well, I guess Reman could be in danger, even with the suit he's wearing... We could just leave with him right now. We don't need to be here."

"Exactly my point-"

"-And yet... I wonder what else she has to say."

The mad man chuckled, switching from his Blunderbass to the power armor's main weapon, a stylish scythe called RIFTMAKER. Though, he's holding it in a over-the-shoulder style, keeping in mind the space isn't very roomy.

"Well isn't that interesting... 'Alioth'. Well, if you don't mind, I'm something of a man of peace myself. I don't wish for any one of us to have to fight amongst ourselves; especially here, the conditions of whatever's left of this prison is very unsafe. I shall give you the hospitality that you are due, ma'am."

As he talked, he got near the box, roughly by Reman's side. "But, you know what, before we depart, I must have you understand, nobody wants to tell me anything. Not even my own crew wants to fill me in on mission details, let alone some of the massive lore dumps the crew gets subjected to. I'm always the one left on the backfoot here! So I guess I want just a bit more clarity..."

"Just now, you said this was a prison. What was this prison built to contain? I wager a prison with a security system like this isn't meant to contain mere anarchists, is it now?"
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Operations Corridor

"You're forgetting who I am," Marie replied to Romulus as the driver finished its cooling cycle. The exhaust vents closed as a fine layer of condensation dripped off the driver, before Marie looked down and wiped the water off. "Hm. Future designs could have a better condensation prevention system. Minor optimization. Maybe not worth the effort."


Marie tilted her head sideways as she looked at the decrepit Overseer model. "Interesting. Its strategic reasoning is still functional, and so are many of its key functions, it seems. Overseer. How adaptive is the neural network of your models? There is a nonzero chance that this one here may have had a new dataset introduced to it. This new dataset contained information that caused it to defect. Alternatively, you did not receive this new dataset. Neither of these are wholly implausible."

"Better questions, for you."
Marie pointed at the Overseer on the ground. "What is your designation? Are you in control of the security systems in this location, and if so, how much do you know about a second group that has entered?"


Well-Known Member
No More Tower :(
Beeeeeg Glas

Suitcase full of food? Check.

Pile of non-edible clothing items? Check.


On shoulder. Secure. Unlikely to get snatched by hungry predators. Well fed, and uninjured.

For his first time chaperoning a human cub, Glasawyr had to admit that he hadn't done too bad of a job! Upon landing beside Dahlia in a rush of wind and noise, the massive reptilian pondered the captain's question with a confused tilt of his head. No, he hadn't found anything interesting. But he had found stuff. He held out he and Aradia's loot, including the suitcase, for the Alpha to inspect and take her pick of.

Humans are very small and squishy. They also taste good with barbecue sauce. You should wear this to prevent injury, and make it harder to be eaten. Like a turtle.


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Rhea was gasping for air.. lying to herself that she was laughing instead of crying as Keith super carried her away from the murder blister attatched to the ceiling. There wasn't time for any amazing plays... even if she wasn't struggling to hold onto her derailing train of thought.
She blinked, as she glimpsed a flash of agressive purple out of the corner of her eye. Spotting her... weird seeing the future crystal, alongside... a strange, conical spike, with a vaugely spiral patern to it. That, she did remember, in a drug fueled haze kind of way- making it through all but shaping it with her bare hands while flexing that invisible muscle that was her ability to manipulate Echyllis, as she grabbed damn near every particulate of the stuff she could on her way out. A part of her wanted to go back, to crack that Barrel open and show that Turret what for. Another, much louder part of her screamed to knock over everything behind them to-
Look again.
Huh. Or maybe looking at her mysterious Clairvoyance crystal was a better idea... She licked her lips, anbd braced herself for impact, as she gazed at it, while keeping her periphery vision on the world around them- ready to give Keith some... mobility assistance, if needed as he ran like the manman he probably was.


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Back with the group
Dragon shoulders are more comfortable than you'd expect

Aradia was, for the most part, rather quiet. It seemed that Osco and Romulus were commanding the conversation here, and frankly, talking with robots was still a skill Aradia was developing. The fact that this one seemed to be quite eccentric was certainly... Not improving the pilot's confidence here. At least she could take shelter behind Glas should things go south, but it seemed like these robots would rather be left alone than fight, so that... Probably, hopefully, most likely shoudn't happen.


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Staff member
Upper Reactor Control

Alioth stood against the wall, arms crossed. She didn't seem to care too much for the engineer's panic, especially one causing so much ruckus in the first place. As the blinding flash of the transformation subsided, a second crystal of echyllis had formed over the artificer's good eye, shielding it from the pressure blast. It quickly melted away into the odd person's skin, something the rest seemed incapable of. Her one flexible brow furrowed as she gave a short but seething huff. "I'd like to keep what little vision I have intact, thank you."

The Artificers cross half-gaze was drawn away from the two morons for a moment as a blinking red light caught her attention. W7. The Artificer sighed and rose from the wall, pacing towards the door at the other end of the circular closet. "If you're in such a hurry to leave, I can help." Alioth gave no respect to Reman as she passed, pushing the armored mechanic to the side with their corrupted arm. The short contact left a noticeable warp in Reman's armor, which was slowly normalized through several passes of the projector system. The Artificer stopped at the keypad to the strange door, typing in commands through the equally disfigured keypad. "Someone has... tripped a system in the lower levels."

As the Artificer worked, the two were able to get a good view of the purple mass protruding form Alioth's back. There was indeed evidence of another wing encased in the growth- a grotesquely snapped and charred bone covered in blue feathers being all that remained of it. The Artificer gave a harmonic hum at Juryrig's question. “You would be surprised what Arcadia shells- shelled security funding on. Who this prison was meant for was really up to them alone. They could condemn anyone from a litterbug to a terrorist to mining. The prison logs in your friend's bag had some… strange faces in them.”

Alioth paused for a moment, as if hung up on that thought. The door ahead of them was closed, folding into a colorful bar of energy as it scanned for it’s next available station.

“I really wish I recognized them… It’s very unsettling to know they wanted Terran prisoners.” Reman’s armor flexed and dented like putty smashing against a flat surface, before the metals somewhat shifted back into place. Alioth closed her good eye, nodding her head to one side with a slight shrug. “I think I’m starting to understand why. Equally nosy and ignorant.” There was still a notable sense of urgency to Reman, looking for the way out, before coming close to a vent and peering in. “What was that panel you were looking at, reminder that if we want to cooperate you have to tell us what is going on. Especially if you wanted a look you didn’t have to rummage through my things.”

“Yeah… Quite…” While Alioth hadn’t paid much mind to Juryrig, Juryrig had been very attentive to their every move. Their ability to warp the armor is concerning, even to him. He needs to be careful around her.

The alchemist shifted himself closer to the last switch; the Warden’s switch, to be precise. While his back is turned towards it, Riftmaker’s edge hovered a good two feet above that switch. He’s not going to try anything funny just yet, even though right now would be a good time to do it.

“So… Are you working alone, Alioth?”

Alioth rocked their head to the other side, the matted hair covered her scarred forehead flipping over stiffly as Juryrig was caught in the reflection of their crystalline peripheral. “I had an- associate here for backup, but it seems you all found him already. The annoying dragon.”

“I’m still working on disabling the security systems here. There’s a lot of good material to be found, but the Arcadians aren’t known for letting things go easy.”
The Artificer tapped the side of the keypad rather firmly, causing the anomalous door to rip open once more. From within the colorful veil, the three could see another scene, some kind of half-lit warehouse. Flashes of light and sparse movement could be seen from within the visage, with the sound within being reduced to the deep rippling of bass tones. Something was happening there, but they couldn’t hear what. The Artificer backed away from the door, looking at Reman without much care. “If you really are intent to repair the mess you’ve stirred, you can start by finding out what in Avisten’s name is going on in Sector W7.”

“So, my crew didn’t really come in with directions… can I get a pointer to the right location? Terminology doesn’t matter much if there’s no information to glean from it.” Reman’s demeanor was cautious but co-operative. In his mind this was less about Arcadia than it was about saving his crew right now. If this was a prison, he nor anyone he knew was going to become a prisoner of some phantom warden.

Alioth shrugged off Reman’s question with an air of aggression. “I’m sure you’ll find it.”
“Hmph… Warehouses… That’s one of the storage areas of the prison. I know where that area is!” Juryrig strutted, grabbing Reman’s arm and practically dragging a (most definitely) unwilling Reman through the anomalous door.

“We can take a look at what’s going on, make three drafts of detailed observation reports on it, and make a whole turkey dinner before you’d even know it! C’mon, Reman, to glory and endless violence!”

Helping Juryrig and Romulous out the door, a large protrusion of echyllis sprung forth from the reactor, forming a blunt crystal that slammed the two in the back and through the door. The Artificer dusted off her hands, turning away from the now closed door. "Morons."

Alioth pressed her hand against the whole side of her face, turning on a transmitter attached to the headband that held her optics in place. "Like you said, they bought it. We got time."


Dahlia braced herself as the now-again dragon landed with a swirl of wind beside her. After brushing her hair back into place, the Captain took a look at the duo's finds from the tower. The short captain looked up at the Dragon, plucking a helmet and set of braces for protection. "Good work. We need to keep our heads on a swivel down here."

As the three caught up with the group, Dahlia checked once more on her tablet with a light of concern. She was careful to keep whatever was on it generally hidden from the pilot of the crew.


The Overseer on the ground shook their head, one of their eyes spiraling about in its case as it worked indignantly. "Rogue intelligence mmmodel not-- t a.. rrrrt t r r t t t." The Rogue Overseer was hung up in its speech processing, repeating syllables aimlessly. OSC-01 glanced at Romulus, dismissing it entirely. "Oakland models tend to... vary recognition by generation. They may have been inactive since before my line of processing was introduced."

OSC-01 looked briefly at the Grunts, giving them a wave away. Though not under her command, one of the Grunts did return to their patrol about the area. By that time, the Rogue Overseer snapped out of it, their eyes fixated at a point seemingly beyond the partly disassembled bot beneath them. "But thennnn, what am I. Who am I."

The Overseer was still for a moment, but began once more, connecting the inactive Grunt to a pair of clamped cables. "No, no. My units have no affiliation hereeeeee. I have no re-reason here." Just as quickly as they had returned to cohesion, the Overseer slipped out of it once more. They snapped their head to look at Marie, eyes flickering in color and shape as they screeched. "DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME, USER?"

OSC-01 raised a wing defensively, in response to the sudden hostility. The Grunt jolted, before slowly moving. Their joints flexed slowly in each direction as it performed a startup check, before coming to in a very strange situation- one fortunately beyond its awareness. The Rogue Overseer picked up the grunt, almost hugging them defensively. Their eyes reverted to their normal stance, though the twitch remained. "Powerless and dead they all were. Th- the last me f-f-FAILED, but I won't. WHAT DO YOU WANT THEM FOR???"

OSC-01 squinted, glancing back at the rest. "They appear to be having some kind of identity crisis."

Dahlia kept a hand resting on the firearm concealed in her side holster, adusting her newly acquired chestplate strap looking between the Overseer and the others. "I don't think they'll be coherent regardless. Might as well be honest."

The Captain took charge, walking ahead of the groups own Overseer- but not by far. "My name is Dahlia Morgan, Captain of the ISS Downrider. We came to this planet searching for signals being sent by Oakland units that seem to match your grouping. Our intent is to find more units both for historical preservation, and to gain a better understanding of what happened to the Arcadians," the Captain paused, hissing a slight comment at their company, "because I'm feeling a little shorted right now."

The Rogue Overseer twitched silently, raising a finger to their eye as they scratched it slightly. After a few seconds, they responded completely calmly. "That sounds reasonable."

The Captain raised an eyebrow, she couldn't believe that worked.

"Wh-whats an Arcadian?"


The travel through the strange door was an odd feeling, but short lived. The two men previously seen in the reactor control hub were launched from the colorful seam with some force thanks to the Artificer's 'help', skidding across the concrete floor. The door behind them crashed shut with a colorful barrage of sparks, leaving them stranded. Juryrig and Reman found themselves quickly in a zone of chaos, the sounds of loud clanks, thuds, and bullets permeating the air.

They were positioned behind a set of shelves loaded with palettes of metal and plastics, spilts out into the floor around them. They were concealed for the moment, allowing them to orient themselves with the chaos unfolding in the Warehouse. There was a large five-legged spider made of various metals with a top-mounted auto-cannon scouring the Warehouse for survivors. Just your average day on the Downrider crew. As Rhea peered through the crystalline mirror in another attempt for clairvoyance, she saw the two newcomers vaguely. Much more clearly, she saw the giant mechanical beast. It turned its cannons to face them and a high-caliber bullet whizzed past Rhea's head, completely shattering the mirror and leaving her with minor cuts.


Well-Known Member

The two artificers were beholden to the spectacle of chaos. Big guns, bigger spider, and a lot of bullets. Though out of the two, Juryrig obviously doesn't respond with terror and fear. Instead, he leans against Reman, with his arms crossed.

"Yeeeaaaah... I know what I said, I know I showed that initiative, but I never made it a promise. I just spoke a lot of nothing, made it a little flowery and nutty, you know what I’m saying, Reman ol’ chum?”

“I mean, not really. What’s up? What are you looking at doing?” Reman sat outside the door, flinching a little at having it be slammed in his face. The semi-cowardly mechanic was still a little nervous but at least it was nice to have someone he knew close enough to him to at least give him good guidance. Or, at least as good of guidance that Jury could have given him.

“Well,” Juryrig began, as he leaned away from Reman and paced around a five foot space, “you and I said completely different things back there. You essentially bound yourself to the expectation that you’re supposed to ‘investigate’ the warehouse, and - Well, look at that.”

Juryrig gestures to the carnage, where Rhea and Keith are. “Big fuck-off spider robot, harrassing the kid and the military-grade lapdog. With that, comes with the expectation that *we* should be the ones to help take care of this spider-shaped problem. Probably by violence. Doesn’t seem like a big talker. Meanwhile Alioth and whomever employed her aren’t dealing with the short end of the stick, Reman. Don’t you think that’s… I don’t know, unfair? Perhaps we could do something about it?”

“Well… Maybe. You did barge in and pass up that big Edward box.”

“That I did! Now, here’s what I think we need to do. You help the kid and Keith with the spider droid, they need some extra hands. As for me… I’m going back to the upper control area, where Alioth still lurks like a shut-in neet. I’m going to activate that Warden!”

“I can’t help but feel like that’s a bad idea but I don’t think I have anything in me to stop you.” Reman somehow trusted the mad inventor to raise hell, as even though reman did it by accident Jury always knew what he was always looking towards doing to obliterate any form of logic. If we could disrupt them, we might have a chance at salvaging something from the site. Reman stepped back a little and ran towards Rhea, jumped into the air, pulled the lever on the Process, concentrated wind at the very tip of his foot and used his falling momentum to collide his outstretched kicking leg with the upper armor of the turret. His power truly became stronger, as he concentrated the air to a point, the air got thin enough to be noticeable to anybody in the cave. A minute difference at most but detectable to machinery and robotics especially.

“Very good… Reman should be able to even the field. Now to bug a very, very ugly woman…” As Juryrig said those words, he marches straight to the nearest ventilation unit and began his literally unstoppable march right back to the upper reactor.

Tom/Juryrig's Shared Mind

Tom has bad feelings about this. The two most dominant ones are:

1.) A premonition that things will go badly.

2.) The frustration that comes from being VERY vocal about this decision, but being too mentally fatigued to challenge Juryrig right now.


Well-Known Member
Rhea let out a loud yelp and rolled off of keith's shoulder in response to the incoming fire. IF only her newfound clairvoyant powers weren't so slow, and unbearabely clunky! Maybe she could try making some echyllis glasses and- She shook her head as she stumbled as fast as she could behind a series of shelves in an attempt to at the bare minimum, break line os sight instead of just bolting down the middle of the big open space.

She caught her breath... more mentally speaking than anything else, and processed the fact that they probably had some backup, at least! she would not become a swiss on this day. That didn't mean she could just do nothing, however... she called out over the cacophony to the others "Does anyone have a plan?? I don't want to test if Aradia can heal exploded heads!"

She shouted out desperately, as she ducked down low, and begun trying to wedge echyllis under the shelf to try and dump it on the tank. A probably futile effort, really, but she sure wasn'y going to try testing her one, untrained, bartely useable skill in a direct contest against something probably hardened against that exact trick. Sure, she could try going for its joints, hamper its mobility- or taking out the obvious sensors, or even try and jam a bunch of stuff into its gun and wait for the inevitable explosion- but she was neither precise, nor powerful enough to accomplish anything of note that way. Her only real option was to get creative, and hope that the shelves weren't just 'concealment' rather than cover- a mere polite fiction that would only protect her so long as the machine didn't decide to reveal it could both see and shoot through the material quite easily.


Well-Known Member
Robits. Robits errywhere.

Standing behind Dahlia like an imposing sentinel, Glasawyr found himself in a very uncomfortable situation. One false life was bad enough, and only because the Alpha had commanded it had he not tried to tear the abomination to pieces.

But now, there were more false lives than he could count. Even with his might he feared he couldn't take them all. At least, not if he didn't prepare in advance. The massive reptile shuffled a bit and made a nervous grumbling noise, attempting to make himself as unnoticeable as possible.

'Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.' Glasawyr thought to himself.


Active Member
How come?
There is none but me.

This place, once fervent,
once full, once hopeless,
once more, is no more.

What drive keeps me going?
I am still condemned.

Ah, my friend!
What, can't you see?
You are free!

On deaf ears,
their voices, too,
alas sang no more.

Yet, I stare myself back,
and realize even they
may be livelier than I.
There wasn't much he could do in a situation like this. His firepower was lacking at best, burdened with protecting Rhea and himself while blanking out from the unending hail of cruel gunfire coming their way, too close for comfort... Rhea? Rhea?keepittogetherIt's not safe!keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherTaking cover beside the child,keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherrifle recoiling from the burden.

keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherI'll keepittogether before I let you keepittogetherkeepittogether her, you glorified trash can.keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherneed better firepower if things are bound to end like this going forward.keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogether, better hip fire stabilization keepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogetherkeepittogether

Really cutting it close, aren't you, Argint?


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Staff member
Lower Path

The tank buckled as Reman hit it with everything he had. The massive blast of air pressure was enough to knock it cleanly off balance, folding one of its firing guns back into its chassis- shooting a few holes from within itself in the process. The tank fell into a rack of powdered concrete, causing the metal structure to buckle and crash into a cascade of grey clouds.

The tank was stuck for a moment, but found its grip not long after the crash, feet blasting straight through the fallen bags and onto the floor itself. The red light of the tank's front shone through the cloud of concrete like a beacon of death, quickly finding Reman's silhouette past his impact point. One of the tank's two guns were still jammed within it, but the other released a deadly stream of metal towards Reman. Two bullets to the chest was all it took to send the technician flopping over the fallen rack and out of sight- alive but most certainly not well.

The bullets came in from Keith's assault, some deflecting off the exterior armor while others punched through softer filler material- but the machine had lost its footing for the moment. Keith could see another useful payload among the room- a palette of insulated boxes adorned with many hazard warnings. A bluish-grey dust had seeped out of a broken pack.

Between Rhea's prying actions and the collapse of the Neighbor shelf, she successfully tipped over the palette of condensed echylfuel barrels- upon which one of the machine's many legs slipped. The heavy barrel was sent careening across the floor of the warehouse, emitting a deep sloshing as it went along. The barrel hit the neighboring wall, busting the lid clean off as dark blue liquid quickly overtook the floor. Upon extended contact with the heat and the air, the liquid erupted with pink flames that filled the room with a noxious and tingly fume. It was a certainly a danger- but it was also a great source of Echyllis.

Upper Reactor Control

It took Juryrig quite a few minutes to find his way back to his old path among the many vents and conduits that sprawled across the Defile's upper layers. Clowing his way up the large ventilation shaft, he was again at the door to the reactor control room. Throwing open the door in a confident ready-to-kick-some-ass pose, Juryrig was greeted by... nothing. The control room appeared to be devoid of life both mechanical, organic, and whatever inbetween threw them out.

The Alchemist stepped forward into the center of the room, looking around. The strange door that had sent them way been closed and gutted after their exit, that alarming box was gone, and many of the wires had been rerouted.

The box was gone, and so was their new friend.

Among the additions to the room was a small cylindrical device, casting a blinking orange light as Juryrig picked it up- much to the chagrin of Tom. The device was adorned with several strange letters, to which the Overseers translation came through. 'WAEP.' What a funny word.

Lower Reactor Control

Dahlia rubbed her palm down the entire length of her face, stretching her dusty features in the process. The talk with the Oakland androids had been a roundabout paradox for about six minutes now, reaching no conclusion. The Captain was at the end of her line, pacing near the outer containment wall of the reactor. Shelooked at the Rogue Overseer, then back at the crew, then back again. "Look, I'll be brunt. If you can't give us coherent answers, I'm obliged to let our techs help you by-"

OSC-01's eyes flared up like a spotlight as her head snapped at an odd direction upwards. Weaponized Alternative Energy Pulse.

"Get back from there!" The Overseer commanded as she threw her arm out towards the interrupted Captain, ripping her way from the wall just in time. A deep and loud pulse shook the eardrums of the crew as the lights waned and flickered around the reactor. The metal of the reactor shook violently, as it ebbed and flowed momentarily, sending electric zaps to the neighboring coils keeping the bright flame intact. The arcs lashed out, barely grazing the crew within their radius. A white bolt of electrcity lashed out, striking OSC-01's arm as they broke contact with their less conductive captain. As the pulse passed, an object came fumbling out of the upper housing- Juryrig. The dazed alchemist hung upside down from his lightly scorched coat, hair stuck out at all angles and eyebrows singed.


When they came to, the scene was quite different. Marie's ehcyllis projections had been disrupted, leaving her quite literally half armored. As everyone recovered from the temporary hearing loss, the Captain shrugged off the hand of OSC-01, crawling to her feet. The room was lit in red and orange, high-pitched alarms blaring as the lights flickered back on. Blast shutters had fallen down at the tunnel entrances, though one had become stuck most of the way down. It'd take something large to lift it, however. Something... alien echoed around the halls- an unknown language rarely before heard. Arcadian. Another more distant howl echoed in the distance. Dahlia looked back at OSC-01 in a confused shock, only to find the guardian Overseer still on the ground- unmoving.

The Captain turned in a panic, looking at the culprit who hung from the ceiling. There were no words to express her simoultaneous anger, confusion, and fear. "WHAT DID YOU DO!?!"

Looking out into the now darker room, the robots closer to the reactor had frozen completely, stuck in whatever pose they last held before the pulse turned them into metal statues. Unawareness, defense, shock. The other half of the robots were hung up as well, but for completely different reasons. The only robot that remained moving was the Rogue Overseer, who laid shivering in shock over the newly deceased robots. A garbled voice pinged around their nonexistent mouth. "Y-y. You."

The Overseer stood slowly from their crouch into a low hunch, their shivering halting. The voice came back again, but with an inflection firmer than ever. The Rogue's voice had broken free, devoid of cracks or falters. "You."

The Rogue turned to look at the crew, the red warning lights reflecting off their metal faceplate From behind the lenses a new fire grew in the machine's eyes, something stronger. Emotion. "YOU DID THIS TO THEM!" The enraged Rogue punched their finger outwards, moving torwards the Captain and the defunct OSC-01. "AND NOW ITS YOUR TURN TO ANSWER FOR THEM."

The rest of the functional robots snapped back to life with a newfound objective. The once passive robots turned towards the crew, still enough present to outnumber the remaining Downriders. There were three kinds of units among the stray. The first were the weak Grunts, small bipeds not unlike the Gargoyles the crew had seen the union deploy before, but with more durable construction and a mean saw arm. The second of the group were the larger Bouncers, similar to those who were supposed to be covering OSC-01 by this point. They were heavier, equipped with a large claw arm, grappling hooks, and a folding safety shield. The many melee grunts were on their way to beat on whoever was closest, at least one Bouncer approaching Juryrig from his currently flipped worldview.

The last and newest of the bunch, of which there were only one or two were the Harpi units. An apparent evolution of the Grunt and Pixy units, they were insect-like flying androids with a hunched stance and large dress-like bloom of thrusters and shock-absorbing plating keeping them afloat. A bandolier of bags, tools and makeshift weaponry was wrapped around their comparatively thin chassis, from which they drew a set of ominous looking sticks, loading them into their crossbow-like secondary arm. One of the machines remained in the backline, lining up a good perspective on Glas while the other rushed forth with some kind of firearm-like tool drawn.

It was fight or flight.
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