DeviousMe

((Eh, fine. Also, got a 'mmmmmaybe <_<' outta Sovs, so I'm thinking Target will have some Sky Raiders soon. ))

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

"Me." the robed figure answered good-naturedly. though the smile in his tone couldn't hide very well, "No, I do know what you mean. Allow me."

"To my left," the veiled being went on, turning his head to the stealth-suited figure that hunched there, "U!n'kd|m. Hm...that doesn't come out well with your language. Go figure. Anyway, U!n'kd|m. Lancer. To my right, Forty-Four of Six. Also lancer. And I am Ken. Jedi Knight. No, not really. Just kidding."

"That," the veiled being tilted his head toward the monstrous vehicle, "is the Dark Rover. Should've been a safe base of operations, but I suppose now I know what all that Dark Airship stuff was about. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. At least now we know we all hate Shades."

Forty-Four interrupted with a soft melody, the pleasant tune that stood as a mixture of flute and organ seeming to emanate from nowhere at all. At the same time, the rim of its 'head' played about a rainbow of color.

"Ah, you're quite right." the robed saurian gave a nod to his compatriot, then turned to Energon X, "How rude of us. Would you like to come inside...?"

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

Scirocco had indeed come to the Fortress. Not a few seconds after Cry's return, the stone-cold eyes of Imad Malak peered from the infirmary’s entryway, the man the iridescent oculae belonged to stepping into the hospital with a gait that held the inevitable personified.

Malak's feet stopped a few steps from Cry, Scirocco's emotionless visage mustering the undead 'child' closely. His lips gave not a twitch for several seconds, and his mind felt cold as the north wind itself; just as it had for so many years now.

Finally, Malak spoke. He spoke but a single word, his tone dispassion incarnate, yet gentle enough to crush notions of true insouciance; his own standing contradiction, just as always.

"Explain..."

Wow, it took me a while to chew through that. But back to the matter at hand. And good to know it’s a theory then. Now to answer questions:

[ QUOTE ]
Erm....why is it that you think rats aren't sentient? They display all the same things we do, even at least basic feelings.

[/ QUOTE ]
If rats display intelligent thought as well as a culture, I will concede they are sentient. Since they show neither, however, I conclude that they are not.

[ QUOTE ]
I'm a little curious how 2+2=4 can't be an absolute though, even from a quantum physics standpoint...Please note I do not say 2.984 or some such, just 2. Also there are no variables to play with, it's just 2 repeated...

[/ QUOTE ]
2+2=4 is not absolute because it is not valid from all points of view. In order to make 2+2=4 a true statement, you need:

1) A properly calibrated numeric system of base 4 or higher.

2) A reference frame to which 2 is 2 from 0 and 4 is 4 from 0.

3) A continuum in which addition can be carried out as proposed.

4) Perfect numeric integers within aforementioned conditions.

I can probably think of more, but since failing any one of these will blow 2+2=4 out of the lava, there you have it. That is why this statement is not an absolute. It requires too many conditions to hold true. An absolute is true (or false) no matter what the conditions.

[ QUOTE ]
Also to note, the whole machine thing and differing levels of thoughts, wouldn't it be because the higher level of complexities that results in those differences as you actually said?

Then it would still be logical to say on the basic level we do both in fact think the same, we just have numerous added variables that augment our decisions and decision making processes.

[/ QUOTE ]
No. One machine has fuel; the other does not. Unless fuel is added to the equation, both machines are dead chunks of parts, and therefore essentially equal. Once one contains fuel, however, they are two completely different concepts, distanced from any relation dependent upon size or power.

((How dare thee put words in mine mouth? I most clearly wrote 'aircraft', my good man. And yes, Lord Nemesis is most certainly down with the street.

But yeah, I'll ask Sovs when I see him next. He knows his Raiders. ))

((Ehwhat? Not sure where you're getting that from, I didn't say squat about Sky Raiders. You're the one who wrote them in. Sovs probably wouldn't mind picking 'em up, though.))

"Does he include a threat with everything he says?" Danger rolled his eyes at Bladewing's monologue, although his oculae were likely too tiny in relation to the others about to make this apparent. Indeed, it wasn't very probable anyone had even heard the mumble over the other verbiage that had so quickly filled the room, and now left with even greater speed.

Groul didn't know what to make of M-113's requests, looking helplessly to his comrade, who in turn gave a shrug, and then pointed a finger at the end of an outstretched arm at Wolffe.

"I think your best chance is asking him." Danger told the mechanoid, then mused to no one in particular, "So that's a Dax, huh...I'd already wondered what he'd meant with that."

"Certainly a curious device." Groul remarked, "Looked like a mental extension node. But why this form? We haven't seen any...oh...never mind. We haven't. I'm just being dense again."

The Specialist allowed himself a snicker as the red-scaled being placed the clawed fingers of his right hand over his eyes. He'd stepped right into that one...

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

"Ah, you must be Uncle E." Energon heard a voice from behind, the tone somewhat raspy and dark, but otherwise quite easy to understand, "Or at least I do hope so."

If he chose to come about, the turn would bring into view a hovering skiff of some sort, the aerial vehicle that resembled a cross of large-bore surfboard and miniature starship presenting more than enough room for its trio of passengers. An orange haze hung about its presently idle four ventral and two aft thrusters, and the silver-gray plating of the skiff's hull worked to place the three beings standing upon it into apparent belonging.

It was the central figure who'd spoken to him, a creature a little taller than two meters and clad in heavy vestments of dull gray. Like some manner of extraterrestrial monk, the being stood quite straight upon the slightly moving platform, and though the intermingled robes worked to conceal its body well, the hood that covered the creature's head at least suggested its skull to be saurian.

The figure to the left could be said to be humanoid, though a slate-gray stealth suit didn't leave any clues to its detailed morphology. However, it could be easily observed to have two arms, two legs, a head, and a torso that followed the approximate proportions of a slim human body.

Still, the pronouncedly digitigrade legs and four-fingered hands threw all notions of this being any sort of human out the window. In addition, the tricloptic goggles that sat integrated into its suit suggested a highly nocturnal creature, their hue of very dark red clearly serving the purpose of filtering sunlight.

The being to the saurian's right looked even stranger, apparently a gelatinous mass of semi-transparent protoplasm that had currently taken the rough form of a wobbly rope with a circular base and an oblong head. The headlike blob was of course faceless, allowing clear view right through the being - as well as the thin cylinder of black the creature carried within itself, the object roughly the length of two human hands.

And although eyeless, Energon couldn't shake the feeling of this thing staring right through him, in almost the same manner as he could through it, despite that the central figure's gaze from within the dark hood stood much more obvious and direct...

Oh, then I had the wrong definition of infallible. My bad. Yes, I suppose if you define something as true from your point of view, then from that point of view, it will be true. Makes enough sense.

With sentience though, I still think the comparison is wrong. While I can certainly build one engine, and a second engine that is larger and more complex, if I apply power to said second engine, it becomes an entirely different concept from the first, unpowered one. To the extent of my knowledge, what exactly drives sentience has not been discovered (i.e. perceived, though there are of course many opinions of the unperceived), and therefore one cannot conclude that simply because two things are composed of like parts that said things are truly alike enough to compare.

Can you compare a rat and a human biologically on the same level? Sure. Can you compare the thoughts of the two on the same level? Sorry, no. Just doesn't work.

[ QUOTE ]
1) And as I stated, the "infallible truths" are things of intellectual absolutes that no matter who or what you are they will remain true.

[/ QUOTE ]
Exactly. By definition, there is no such thing. An infallible truth is nonsense.

[ QUOTE ]
For example, you can go 2+2=4, there is no way to have 2+2=5. No one would agree that it's a possibility as you are magically pulling something out of nowhere.

[/ QUOTE ]
Then I am glad to have met no one, as no one agrees with me. You might also be interested to know that no one goes by many names, one of which is quantum physics.

[ QUOTE ]
2) I was classifying reality by a perceived perspective since we cannot really trust anything that existence is in the first place. The only things we really have to work with is what we perceive, so it is the basis to which I appeal.

[/ QUOTE ]
That's fine, but it's still an erroneous basis. You can't just stop there. I mean, what would have happened if your ancestors had stopped at the '4 elements'? Now as then, there are things not perceived, and while they can be overlooked in certain contexts, this is not one of them. You can formulate a theory based on these perceptions - and if that's what this is, then do excuse me, I've missed something somewhere - but they are not enough to draw conclusions upon.

[ QUOTE ]
3) I know there are many personalities, but in all technicality they all stem from the same basic concept and structures, just on different levels of technicality. This along with their environment does lead them to think differently, but remove all things which makes us specific to what we are and we're not that different from a rat.

[/ QUOTE ]
Apples and oranges. A rat is not sentient. A human is...most of them, anyway. And no, different ways of thought are not mere technicalities.

"Hm?" Danger raised a tiny eyebrow at the miscommunication, "Oh! Negative. I meant the guy who looks like the Chief...Wing. Was that it?"

"Bladewing." Groul corrected, but left it at that, allowing the Specialist to go on.

"Ah." said man remarked, turning back to Target, "And psychic energy...er, that was your name for mental stuff, right?"

"Correct." the red-scaled creature confirmed with a chuckle, "See? We're starting to figure these things out."

"Right." Danger gave a nod, "Now then...what are Sky Raiders and Arachnos Flyers? I know this is probably silly, but I'm getting this vibe of air pirates and flying spiders..."

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

Energon X would have been better off observing things more closely before proceeding. While the Dark Rover still cast no light from its interior, that didn't mean nothing had changed - and therefore, assuming one could just stroll in was quite erroneous.

A field of force collided quite rudely with Energon's senses (or head, whichever came first), laying stretched across the gap in the Dark Rover's armor a few centimeters below the outermost layer of terconium. As with most all standard constructions throughout the galaxy, the Dark Dragon's crew employed assemblies - in principle a counterpart to alloys, but on a paramaterial basis - on many occasions, as they could resist most sorts of stresses extremely well.

Best of all, assemblies still retained partial functionality even when depowered, or conversely, if its material component were destroyed. As the latter applied to the gouge, the energetic component had taken over here, performing the function of a solid wall even without its second partition...

Interesting thoughts. However, I'm afraid you've made some assumptions, and without said assumptions, this doesn't hold in its entirety.

1. There are no infallible truths.

2. The classification of 'reality' is not based only on the perceived.

3. A personality's way of thought does not necessarily conform with that of a human - as such, neither does its perception of its environment, including stress.

And no offense intended, but...what's this doing in this section of the forums?

Faster and faster their feet carried the two combatants, and Acid realized very quickly this crossfire idea wasn't going anywhere. He'd need too much time to get off a shot well-aimed enough, and the Titan's plasma fire became nothing but fodder for the vile iridescence that course about the Khelari's suit. At best, this was a stalemate. More likely, however, it stood in favor of the Malta mechanoid.

OVERCHARGE ACTIVE.

TIME REMAINING - 12:33

Nevertheless, the Titan wasn't satisfied. Indeed, Delta 5 seemed to have come to the same conclusion, launching its grapple line once again, this time in an attempt to catch the reptilian and pull him into the waiting maws of its torso-mounted cannon barrels.

Fat chance, pal. But thanks for the idea.

A scattershot of venom-green bolts virtually annihilated the line, Acid following up with something that bore great semblance to a hybrid between a micro-missile and a beam, the obvious projectile streaking to its target with blinding speed in the form of what was clearly an energetic line.

The finger-sized munition even exploded as it struck the ground ahead of the Delta unit, forcing the mechanoid to fling itself aside, lest it be consumed by the sphere of caustic green malevolence that rapidly ate away at the floor, hissing with vicious vehemence as it tore its crystalline crater into the material.

Just as Acid had planned.

If Delta 5 could have an expression, said visage would have most closely resembled the utterance of the phrase, "What the hell is this on my foot?!" right now, a lasso of vibrant energy that stretched from Acid's armored fist wrapped about its ankle.

Before the Delta even knew it, the mechanoid already sailed through the air at the end of the immaterial tether, the reptilian wasting no time in applying the principles of momentum to his opponent. With a thunderous crash, the Titan came down in a cloud of dust and debris, shaking the ground violently before the Khelari once more whipped the mechanoid into the air.

"Hey Grey, feel like giving this thing the squeeze?!" Acid shouted over the cacophony of three more collisions of Delta 5 and ground, then swung the mechanoid high into the sky and right into the nearest tower with violent report.

The path didn't stop there, however, Acid continuing to drag his opponent through the structure even after slamming it through the wall, the energetic grapple line ripping a long scar into the tower wall as it tore its unwitting passenger along, a veritable waterfall of dust and shrapnel gushing from the speedily growing gouge.

It didn't take long at all for the Detla unit to smash out into the open yet again, and if he hadn't understood before, there couldn't be any doubt in the mind of Randall Grey now - since the rather slow wielder of earth and stone hadn't been able to get himself to the fast-moving Titan, the reptilian intended to bring the mechanoid to him instead.

In the fashion of a beach ball and with all the grace of a deflated blimp composed of pure lead.

Of course, if Grey had refused, or suggested something else entirely, Acid would deftly try to make it happen. Try. With an adversary such as this, nothing could be certain to happen as planned.

OVERCHARGE ACTIVE.

TIME REMAINING - 08:31

Especially with time slipping away...

"Alright..." Danger grumbled with pause, still eyeing the Bastion's chambers that lay in his view with a careful gaze, "Considering nothing's exploded yet, I'm going to say that wasn't specifically here. How about you?"

"Agreed." Groul relaxed once more, the grip upon his sword loosing gradually, then inquired of his comrade, "Mental plane?"

"I think so." the Specialist concurred, shooting a smile to the red-scaled being as he holstered his own weapons as well, "We really need more intel about this place. Pass the word to let the probe at anything and everything it can sink its teeth into. If we're going to be gathering materials..."

"We'll need to know where to find them anyway." Groul finished with a nod, then did as asked, reopening the channel with the Dark Rover to relay their thoughts on the matter.

And as the draconian spoke with their superiors, the Specialist inquired of the hovering archer with a thumb at Bladewing's portal, "I may be wrong, but I'm guessing your pal ran off to kill whatever sent that out. Think he might need help, or can he handle it?"

"They may have other concerns right now." Groul spoke English once more, interjecting before Target could answer, "The Chief says they've spotted three aircraft en route from the east. It looks like your enemies are reinforcing their position..."

Finally! Here I stand in Atlas Park, Statesman defeated at my feet! Now I shall...eeeewww, I stepped in noob...

"Well, I can see where you get your monochromatic outlook." Groul told Target with a smile. It seemed to be his only remark on the subject, as he then placed a pair of fingers to the side of his draconian head again, muttering three words in the same foreign tongue as before - more than likely informing the Dark Rover they'd be getting company soon.

"Oh, and tell the Chief we're ready to start the second phase." Danger reminded his compatriot, "Also, have them pull up stuff on this Recluse guy. I want to know if he knows anything about those guys with the battery ships."

The Field Commander relayed the message with a nod, then inquired of the Specialist, "You think that the reason he tries to exterminate the Kheldians here?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Danger waggled a hand to and fro, "You never know. Better play it safe. Besides, we can't..."

Without warning and from one moment to another, the Specialist's sentence cut short, the diminutive man leaping to his feet, guns drawn and ready, even as the towering Groul still shot to his full height, the draconian being's tail knocking his chair over in the process, the seat's frame of cold of steel clattering noisily to the floor.

"What in blue blazes was that?" Groul whispered concernedly, the claws of his right hand by now around the hilt of the massive sword on his back...

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

The Tangle
Grandville, Etoile Isles

The pale-blue eyes of Imad Malak glared coldly through the crimson windows of the conference room, the man's frigid gaze passing expressionlessly over the realm below, eyeing the structures of Spider City with soulless dispassion.

Malak wrenched himself from the sight, the sound of his feet upon the floor the only thing that broke the room's oppressive silence. He allowed himself a sigh upon beholding the blank spot of carpet where Recluse had stood so often in times past, masterminding his grand schemes in the vile aura of his inner sanctum. The conference table hadn't changed much either, though the blood-red projection upon it nowadays of course showed vastly different presentations than it had two decades ago.

And one of them came contrary to the daily routine - though not entirely unexpected, Malak had to admit.

The hospital below had just received a rather battered Black Scorpion. Malak let out another sigh. It figured...Rodriguez just never learned not to get in over his head. Or more accurately, what was left of it. Then again, not that it made much of a difference. There hadn't been much there to begin with.

Extrapolating what would happen now wasn't very demanding. Malak's finger already rested upon the response contact of the table's intercom. As expected, Daos took no more than seven seconds to call in.

"Master Scirocco." was all the Arbiter had time to say before Malak already acknowledged.

"I know." the archvillain massaged his temples with his free hand, "I felt it as well. And do you still insist on calling me that?"

"Yes." came the rather dry answer. It stood clear Arbiter Daos wasn't in the mood for games, "I am dispatching a response unit as we speak. We should have this cleared up shortly."

"Actually, I think I'd like to handle this one personally." Malak retorted, "There's been too much of a ruckus at the Fortress lately for my tastes."

"Of course, Sir." Daos' voice contained an audible smirk, "I whole-heartedly agree. I shall have preparations made immediately. I assume you wish to depart as soon as possible?"

"Almost, yes." Scirocco elaborated, "My mystics' scryings have spotted something...intriguing. No, I'm afraid that's all I have at this point."

"I understand." Daos acknowledged, "The transport shall await your pleasure."

"Thank you." Malak gave an instinctive nod, releasing the contact. He stepped to the windows once more, contemplating the situation.

The rivalris between 'the new kid' and the others had been festering for a while now. It appeared Cry had finally made his move. Just great...now he finally had something to pull him out of Grandville, and now this had to happen. But he knew better than to simply let the Arbiters loose. Arachnos needed Ghost Widow's successor, though of course none of the upper echelon would admit it. Still, this had to stop. Black Scorpion would be fine - Ernesto was practically a robot these days anyway; if the medics couldn't revive him, Malak knew Grillo could - but this was just unbecoming. Scirocco knew he'd left Arbiters at the Fortress. Why hadn't they stepped in?

Well, he'd find the answers soon enough. It was ironic, really. Recluse had placed him in charge for one reason, and one reason only - because Scirocco could be trusted not to be trusted. The leader of Arachnos knew well his mystic Lieutenant still stood unbroken...and this was exactly the reason he knew Scirocco would maintain the status quo Recluse desired.

After all, he was no fool. Common sense dictated that no sooner had the last of Paragon's heroes been eradicated, the conquerors would turn on themselves. At present, Arachnos wasn't ready, and if such happened, the whole scheme would collapse yet again.

Luckily, Recluse had Scirocco. His gentle fist, his man of mercy. Whether Malak wanted to or not, he'd maintain the status quo...because his nature didn't allow for anything else...

"Oh, we got that." Danger returned to Bladewing with a slight chuckle, "We also got the other things that went along there - and we might be wrong, but judging from those, you're a really violent person."

"And my sincerest apologies to you." the Specialist turned to Arran, performing a slight bow, "I'm afraid you somewhat slipped my mind. Your presence is...incomplete. Pardon our ill manners."

"What he said." Groul agreed, feeling quite embarrassed that the ghost's kind welcome had passed him by in the haste of the moment as well, "If you'd like, I think I can discern the substance that maddened your friend earlier."

And while the red-scaled being offered an open hand, the Specialist's eyes rolled at Target's conclusions. Once again, the archer had taken what had been said and adapted it to his own preconceived views.

"One of these days, I hope you can stop seeing the world in black and white." Danger told him with a sigh, "Until then, I guess you just won't understand what we're saying."

"Or actually listen to it, it looks like." he snickered at Energon, but then berated himself, "Oh right, you stormed out of here before that. Then again, I'm not sure...ehhh, you know what? Just forget it. That'll only start that argument again..."

"Gotcha!" Acid shouted back over the roar of the remaining missiles, then made a quick mention over the channel to Toy Dispenser, "Don't stop it. Part of the plan."

Delta 5 didn't give Randall the time of day, its reflector field repelling the hurled debris. Still, the kinetic force the collision had imparted caused a torque, allowing Cher'tak's flank to form an angle to effectively bypass the hemispherical barrier.

The legs, though struck by the assault, didn't seem to hold anything vital to the Delta unit's operation. Despite the torn armor, the Titan kept rolling swiftly upon the wheels of its soles, countering the induced moment almost immediately to guard once more.

Pulling a flank of its own, Delta 5 took aim at the Warmaster and his surroundings with its arm cannons, blasting a rapid volley of neon-blue bolts at him in the fashion of a strafing, dual-barreled plasma machine gun turret.

And what was Acid doing?

Apparently nothing, as the reptilian had just been standing there, seemingly to grab at nothing but thin air. The motion didn't result in any visible effects, and indeed it looked to have zilch to do with the battle here. Toy, however, had probably already deduced its purpose.

Then the Khelari made good on his word, clawed fingers tapping upon the watch-like device that sat on his left wrist. Virtually in the next instant, pitch-black metallic plating began to layer itself over Acid's arm, extending rapidly in panel upon panel to coat the reptilian in a sinister-looking suit of powered armor that added quite a bit to the Khelair's slim physique.

Lines of pulsing energy traced across the completely dark material in luminescent green of the most venomous hue, and the section that had encapsulated Acid's tail had added large, saw-like teeth to the appendage's dorsal edge. A grim green visor had formed over the face, and its reflective luster gave little clue as to what the suit now showed is occupant. The process itself had consumed no more time than a few fractions of a second.

Here we go, then.

With a motion that much resembled a sigh of contemplation, the reptilian engaged the overcharge, tendrils of the same venom-green energies lancing out from the suit while a visible field of the stuff formed about the Khelari. Ambient radiation levels shot through the roof, and it now become rather apparent why Acid had been so adamant about this - the concentrations he now emanated would have debilitated a human body in mere minutes.

OVERCHARGE INITIATED.

TIME REMAINING - 14:99

In the blink of an eye, and with the same green iridescence, the suit's left lower arm became a gun barrel, easily the size of a fist. Acid didn't hesitate a moment from here on out, letting loose a concentrated beam of green that lanced into the floor ahead of the Delta, carving a groove into the ground and crystallizing wherever its energy made contact with a diabolical hiss. Indeed, the stuff seemed to be eating its way into the floor, and as the Delta rolled across the suddenly appeared obstacle, the crystallized energy began to attack the soles of its feet, nearly instantly robbing the Titan of its supreme mobility.

Provoked and angry, the Delta unit immediately leveled a gun-arm upon the reptilian, but already found him no longer where he'd been. A slew of venom-green bolts into its back soon revealed where the reptilian had teleported to, but much too late to save its reflector field generator. Acid had paid attention during Cher'tak's earlier assault, and acted upon his observation. The barrier's hexagonal construction faded into thin air, leaving the Titan exposed to attack from all sides.

Launching another missile volley at the others, Delta 5 took off on foot, its heavy yet quick steps rocking the ground as it opened plasma fire on the attacking reptilian. However, Acid seemed to have anticipated this, and now the two strafed in parallel, each trying to gun the other down. The Delta's plasma blasts vaporized wall on one side of the open area, and Acid's bolts of crystallizing energy frighteningly ate away at the other as Sah'Teece arrived on the scene.

The former diplomat had held something upon his mind, and more than likely Char'tak had taken note, but now it fell by the wayside in favor of covering fire, the Rikti leveling his own bladerifle at Delta 5 in an attempt to catch the speeding mechanoid.

But where had Toy's entourage gone? Hadn't they been right there with Sah'Teece...?

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

The fiery spell washed over the drone even before it has ceased firing, charring the few remaining spots of silver to a very ugly, ashen black. Specks went flying back under the kinetic force of the breath, and as Cory's fireball struck, the mechanoid seemed to have had enough.

Detonating with thunderous applause, the machine gave up the ghost, hoping to wreak ruin upon those around it with the cacophonous explosion that resulted from the activation of its detonator.

Still, the blast came too late to catch Solid Shot before he could fire - if it caught anyone at all, of course - and his LRM streaked down the corridor with its characteristic whistle, catching up with its target in mere seconds...

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

"Yyyyyup."

"Is that all you ever say?" the Operation Engineer huffed at his comrade with a grunt, the latter stemming more from hefting up the heavy back plate of the assault bot he'd just performed a diagnostic on.

"Yyyyyup." the Special Qualification Marksman snickered under his mask of midnight blue, tipping his cowboy hat up just a little with a flick of his fingers.

The Engineer sighed with rolling eyes as he set the plate back down, looking to the Gunslinger with a frustrated glare. The marksman just sat there at the edge of the bridge, just at the joint that connected overpass and tower exit, staring down into the misty abyss below.

"You could at least help me with this, you know." the technical specialist told the man while leaning against the metallic stone wall of the passage, casting a glance at the large mechanoid as well as the duo of battle drones that he knew stood positioned behind the pillars just beyond the entryway.

"Yyyyyup." mumbled the Gunslinger, but quite amusedly so, standing deftly to approach the armor plate and assist the Engineer in lifting it back into place.

"Thanks." retorted the technical operative as the two slowly brought the plate into position, "So this is really the only part we're allowed to remove when we run a check? Weird order, if ya ask me."

"Yyyyyup."

"I mean, I can understand the Commander wanting to keep his details to himself, but that's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Yyyyyup."

"Oh come on! You could at least carry on a decent con..."

The Operation Engineer never had a chance to finish that sentence. With the loud crash of metal upon stone, the armor plate fell upon the floor as the two Malta Operatives beheld one of the Commander's drones smashing into the wall down the corridor in a wild aerial spiral, the mechanoid exploding almost upon contact. Even more troubling was the sudden appearance of several more mechanoids out of thin air only instants later. Now it became very apparent what Acid had done - he'd sent Toy's entourage on ahead via jump, probably with the original intention that they'd cut off the fleeing drones. As things stood, however, they'd probably gotten other ideas by now.

And for the first time in a long time, the Gunslinger uttered a phrase that differed from his usual mantra.

"What'n Sam Hill...?!"

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

"It was just a suggestion." Thermoplast's shoulders gave a shrug as his head tilted to the side a bit, the gesture intended to underscore his acceptance of Archlich's denial.

The amnesiac couldn't quite place how, but something felt decidedly off about this. Then again, the Rikti were just the humans of another world, right? There wasn't any reasons for their gods to have behaved any differently from those of 'Primal Earth'.

Or was there?

Thermoplast rewound the timeline. The statue of the deity they'd found last suggested that either the beings the Rikti had believed in had changed form themselves, or been replaced as their forced evolution had proceeded. This could have meant the last gods of the Rikti had been just that, behaving as their worshippers had become.

Still, he was by no means an expert in deific matters, and so opted to defer to Archlich and Rosie's greater experience. Thermoplast nodded without a sound, and then stepped casually forward to display his willingness to proceed.

Upon hearing the golem's voice, however, the cyborg's lax manner quickly made way for much more hardened and serious demeanor. Even as his internal translator got to work - the device could reconstruct and covert from and to virtually any language with less than nine uttered words - the detective flung his hands forward at the guardian.

A ring of fire ignited around the golem's feet, attempting to immobilize the construct. Thermoplast could feed nearly double the magnitude into his flames that the general hero or villain had access to, having earned the designation of 'Vanguard' due to this. As a result, he could succeed in locking down even the leaders of many villain groups he'd come up against.

Of course, that was no guarantee he could do the same with the golem - or that it couldn't escape from the fiery ring altogether before it had formed completely...

((Sorry man, this 1+1=11 stuff always causes me to poke and prod. But feel free to PM me next time. If I know it (no guarantee), I'll be sure to inform ya.

And about Portal Corporation, I see you noticed things are not what they seem...well, let's just say they're a wee bit more shady than what they let on. ))

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

"You misunderstand." Danger gave answer, "We don't have the capability to 'save' anything here. Only you guys can do that. I know neither of us trusts the other right now...although I'll admit, that might be just from our side..."

Groul gave a nod to this. He'd noticed the discrepancy as well - from their point of view, they simply couldn't believe Target's story; Bladewing had more than ensured this earlier, and the aggressive nature of the argument's human side (while it hadn't been pivotal) had certainly suggested support.

"...but you'll just have to take it on faith," the Specialist went on without pause, "that your current choice isn't the right one. It's the smart one, yes - and it probably looks right at the present time. But once it's all said and done, you're going to see there was a right choice. And you're going to wish with all you've got that you'd looked for it earlier. No, I'm afraid there isn't a single, generalized answer to everything."

"I gotta say," Danger's tiny visage became a smirk most sinister, "it'd be really cool if there was. Stuff would be so easy. But that's why life's hard, not fair. Whether what you're telling us is true or not, only you know what really happened. Ergo, you'll have to figure it out on your own. We've still got our own mistakes to undo."

"Starting with this displacement." Groul reminded his compatriot, trying to alter the course of the conversation.

"Right." the Specialist agreed, "I think I know how you managed to jump to your conclusion. Not sure where you got it from, but Groul here didn't mean human hands and wrong hands are one and the same. Considering your pal exploding star systems for fun, I'm still not sure though. He meant your enemies, these 'villains' - and I'll admit, it doesn't sound like they'd think twice about wrecking their own world if it means taking you guys out. Especially if they don't know they would."

"Our warning labels are just about nonexistent." Groul elaborated, "If it starts a nuclear burn, to us that's obvious. Function dictates form. But if someone doesn't know the function, there isn't any way they could know what to watch out for."

"Exactly." the Specialist agreed, "Has nothing to do with intelligence. Just know-how. Like talking to planets. Anyone can do it, but you need to know how. Okay, I got off-topic there. Back to the point: your enemies finding the Rover will likely cause them to try and grab it. Its nature is pretty obvious. Doesn't mean they'll succeed, but if a fight starts, it's going to slow down repairs, and chances go up something majorly bad might happen..."

That's a common misconception, actually. Pocket D may reside in another universe (Shadow Shard hasbeen speculated, but not confirmed), or even on another plane of existance, but it certainly still exists within the 4th dimension.

Danger's explosion came suddenly, expectedly, and with complete and utter silence. With an exhale that somewhat combined a growl and a sigh, Groul had placed a large glass over the Specialist, leaving the heavily gesticulating Danger ranting about beneath the spread fingers of his hand.

"He meant your snarling friend here." the red-scaled Field Commander explained undemonstratively to the archer, keeping a close eye on his compatriot, whose face meanwhile had transitioned from ultramarine to indigo, "And while I'm not sure what a '[censored]' is, I'm finding these ongoing insults distasteful, to say the least. My friend may have a hard time getting this across, but he really is trying to help. We have been at the same impasse you find yourselves in now."

"We chose." he continued grimly after a moment’s pause, "We chose to fight; to go to war. We did not choose wisely. If you consider speaking from experience arrogance, then I'll just have to accept that. Walk your path. I certainly won't trouble you with any more lectures."

"And neither will he." Groul stated as he lifted the glass, speaking to the Specialist, "Correct?"

"Fine." Danger mumbled dispassionately, but did not pursue the argument. having spent the past few seconds in thought, he'd visibly calmed down once more. He'd also recalled another matter about humans - they really didn't like to be berated, and this was quite evident here. If they hadn't come up with it first, it might as well not have existed.

The same came into play with Target's arrow - the effect may well have come to pass, but his explanation thereof had been utter nonsense. Had he really expected these two to take him seriously? Groul may not have been an engineer, but despite Danger outclassing him when it came to the fundamentals of paraphysical components, even the red-scaled being had been able to tear the rationale apart at the seams.

Furthermore, Target seemed to be suffering from a gross misconception - and this they certainly thought worth of mention.

"I do have something to discuss with you, though." Groul informed the archer, "As I said, I'd duly appreciate if you ceased to put words in my mouth. I have not referred to you as lowly, savages, or primitives in any form or fashion, and I'd welcome if you stopped accusing me of such."

"Say, that's right." Danger spoke once more. This time, however, his words came much more thoughtfully, the Specialist having calmed his temper somewhat, "Where are you getting that stuff from, hm? That'd interest me quite a bit too..."

"Good to know." Vern cocked a toothy smile upon seeing the sled form, "Heh, I've been waiting for this one."

What the Krayten meant with this soon became apparent; specifically, right about the point he stepped beside the nose of the vehicle.

"I know we're here on business, but I've been itching to let loose for a while now." he chuckled to Vanessa and her entourage, the claws of his right foreleg already scraping grooves through the permafrost in anticipation, "Ready when you are..."

((Psst - Bladewing and Justice Reborn left for another base quite a while ago. ))

"Then I'm afraid you've been lied to." Groul retorted as he passed Target's arrow back to the man, "And please refrain from putting words in my mouth."

He opted to leave it at that, hoping the archer would get the point even without elaboration. The Field Commander had called their means dangerous, not superior - and due to this fact, he suspected Target to have an issue with extraterrestrial beings. After all, he'd heard that many humans indeed cultivated such.

The same stood as basis the red-scaled being didn't discuss the archer’s nonsense further, even though his 'explanation' had been full of gaping holes and glaring contradictions. Indeed, Target had rambled off more incoherence in a few seconds than Groul generally heard in months - and some of the Dark Dragon's henchmen certainly weren't the most stable of folks.

He then opened his mouth to respond to Wolffe, but Danger cut him off once more, this time with vigor that belied the man's micro-sized stature, causing his larger comrade to quickly shut his jaws again.

"You arrogant, conceited, self-righteous lout!" the Specialist thrust his hands upon his hips, "There the guy says he understands your point of view, and that he won't argue it further - even stops me from doing it - and you've nothing better to respond with than to keep harping around on him?! To demand that he respect your views of morality even though that's exactly what he's doing?! Geez, you people are even worse than we've been told!"

"I don't think so!" Danger shot an arm at Groul, stretching a rigidly pointed finger to preempt the predictable attempt of his comrade to stop him this time, "This has to be said, and you know it."

The Specialist then turned to Wolffe once more, now gesticulating heavily, "My pal here fights. That's what he does, that's what he knows. You tell him there's a war, he accepts that. But on his world, war, destruction, and killing people isn't considered heroic. Neither is it on mine, and we thought it wasn't here either. But if it is, that's your prerogative. We were just trying to warn you from making the same mistakes we have, but if you don't want to listen, that's just fine by me. You can find out the old-fashioned way: with lots of pain and suffering."

"Oh, and if you're looking to brawl over this," he mentioned in conclusion, judging from Wolffe's growl and start, "I'm sure there's someone here who hasn't gotten enough exercise for the day..."

OOC:

My bad about that. It was just the only way I could think of that would get them there and make any sense. Everything else would've just had them not bother and leave.

And Project, you're playing Black Scorpion as waaaaay too smart. The guy's got all the intelligence of a wooden shoe, trust me. Not to mention I don't think this is gonna work - the Arbiters would put a leash on stuff pretty quick, and anyone who messes with an Arbiter messes with Recluse personally.

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

BIC:

Groul had harbored a sinister smirk throughout Energon's rant, the Field Commander's clawed fingers resting casually on one another, but as the man stalked from the room like he'd swallowed a broom, he simply couldn't contain himself anymore.

Bellowing laughter filled the mess hall for the next few seconds, echoing well about and into adjacent corridors, and it was only when Danger stood to kick Groul's nearest finger that the red-scaled being's mirth came to cease.

"I can't say I recall ever having encountered a more severe case of 'what he said, what he heard' in my day." the Field Commander spoke to Wolffe and the Specialist alike, letting out the deep breath he'd taken after his laughter coming to a stop.

"Yeah, I gotta say, that one was pretty good." Danger agreed with a shrug, turning back to Wolffe as well, and advancing upon the man at a slow, yet steady pace, "I'm afraid your friend missed the target by far. Groul here meant what he said: war he can understand. We can understand. In fact, it's just about the only thing we still understand."

The Specialist gave Wolffe a moment to ponder upon this, to let things sink in, and then went on, "Yeah, we're not explorers. We're fighting our own war - and trust me, if here or among the stars, it doesn't make a lick of difference. War's war any way you twist it, and fighting for our point of view doesn't give us the right to call ourselves the good guys; and neither does it to you. But to be honest, you look smart enough to know that."

"As I already said," Groul reached out to wrap the fingers of his left hand about Danger, pulling the Specialist back again, "We won't pry into your motivations any further...right?"

"Ruffian!" the tiny man spat as he wedged himself from Groul's fist again, "Okay, okay, I'll be quiet. Let go of me, scale-brain!"

The Field Commander snickered evilly, but obliged, elaborating to Wolffe, "Your friend does have one point, though. We really should find the Dark Rover. Not find as in locate - we know that - but to make sure no one gets a hold of anything aboard. I'd hate to think what either side in your war could do with some of the tech we brought along. If some of our weapons fall into the wrong hands, this war could be over in a very short time - and probably rip apart your planet in the process...literally..."

((Ouch man. Wasn't gonna say anything, but that one made my eyes twitch. No offense, but spelling and grammar checks would be appreciated. ))

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

"You are sure?" Groul regarded Dr. Monarch inquisitively, not quite able to make sense of this. Still, he accepted the hand, wrapping the large clawed fingers of his own about Monarch's palm as carefully as things permitted, "Unless I'm mistaken, I recall you present at our arrival."

The Field Commander then turned his attention back to Energon, the red-scaled lips of Groul's draconian visage becoming a sarcastic smirk, "You are of course correct. Your culture may very well hold war and destruction in very high regard."

"Sure looks like it." Danger chimed in with a chuckle, "We apologize for being so...insensitive."

Before Energon could formulate a rebuttal to this, Groul took the word again, "So war. That I am capable of understanding; each side believing they are in the right, both wanting to eradicate the other for their views. Very well, the lines are clear now. I won't pry into your motivations any further."

"As for what I'm doing," Groul sank his teeth into the rapidly shrinking leg again, wolfing down the last shreds of meat from the remaining bone, "I'm eating. Can't you see that?"

Danger snickered once more, clearly bemused by his comrade pointing out the obvious, and Groul elaborated further, "Sorry, but you stepped right into that one. For one so informed about our presence, you've really got a way of repetition there."

"In any case," the red-scaled being gave a shrug, pausing a moment to snap apart the last bits of bone, "you might as well ask why stars are round. Rationalize it with efficiency, state, or whatever mechanic suits you - it just happens to be that way. Our nulltime deformer hiccupped coming back from World 15, and..."

"Dimension." the Specialist interrupted.

"Say again?" Groul wanted to know.

"Dimension." Danger explained further, "I figured a little bit of nonsense. They call other worlds 'dimensions'. No, I don't know why yet."

"Ah." Groul gave a nod, "That explains a few things. In any case, we'd gotten separated from the Dark Rover - our expedition vehicle - when it jumped, which meant we had to tack on to its trail, so to speak. Next thing we know, we're here. And you know the rest already..."

((Grey didn't annul it, so up to you. ))

((Just Specialist. It's a title. Like Diploma Engineer, Tactical Coordinator, etc. ))

"Oh, now that clears everything up." the Specialist sneered sarcastically, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "So you're going to attack those guys just because you feel like it. Hm. Interesting concept of heroism you guys have. And before I forget, what do you mean you don't know what's the matter with him? He just chugged a load of pills right in front of you! What do you think is the matter with him?!"

Danger gave it up after that, almost letting slip a comment of feeling his intelligence drop the more he spoke to Bladewing. A brown dwarf was probably brighter, and in several senses of the word.

Calming his frustrations with a sigh, the Specialist stepped calmly to the side as the crazed man's dagger zipped across the table, regarding him with what almost seemed to be pity as Marty fired an energy burst at nothing but thin air. Whatever he'd swallowed there, it had sure done a number on his head. Danger hadn't even needed to focus respectably to avoid the poorly thrown blade - and the Specialist stood used to so much more.

"I wouldn't worry about that." Groul meanwhile gave answer to Wolffe, the red-scaled being shifting a bit in his seat. The chair wasn't too comfortable to begin with, not to mention being quite a bit too small for the towering Field Commander, "Dark energy is notoriously hard to track down. Besides, with your friend there capable of annihilating whole solar systems at a whim, what do you have to worry about? Well, except maybe your people going crazy. Is he going to be alright?"

Groul's tone clearly brought across that he didn't trust any of them. He very much doubted there to be anything heroic about anyone down here, much due to Bladewing's flawed explanation. After all, the Field Commander had no idea of the true situation, of the peril Wolffe and his compatriots faced in their world...

*calls in Soviet*

We got a November Echo Whiskey Bravo, say again November Echo Whiskey Bravo, need you in the LZ ASAP.