DeviousMe

((Nice move with the bladerifle there, Khell. ))

A few of Cher'tak's shots struck home, ripping into the Delta's back and scorching its armor. One even struck a conduit of significance, the reflection field that spanned across the Titan's front giving a momentary flicker before the mechanoid managed to wedge itself from the wall and face its opponents once again.

"How right you are." Acid savagely grinned to Toy as this transpired, "Though I intend to use something a great deal nastier than Phazon. Grey, Warmaster - if those armors don't double as Hazmat suits, get clear now!"

No sooner had he finished that sentence than the Titan moved again, the spherical wheels in its soles allowing it to rush across the ground as in a hover, but with much greater speed.

Delta 5 had no intention of stopping anytime soon, the arrangement of its wheels providing a firing platform of more than adequate stability, allowing it to launch a missile volley at all its adversaries without even bothering to halt. Safe behind its reflection field, the mechanoid could roar off its swarms with practical impunity, and it certainly didn't end there.

As Acid reinforced Toy's protective fields with his own, both to deflect the missiles that had targeted him as well as to provide the android with greater defenses, the Titan blasted a grapple line at the robotic mastermind, trying to hook a leg and yank him to the ground. Its idea had been to either ram him into the floor, plan and simply, or tear him toward the iridescent maw of a charging plasma cannon...

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

Or such was the plan - and Cory should have known better than to assume things would play out just the way he'd calculated.

In truth, simply wrapping the mechanoid's ankles in ice couldn't drag the flying machine to the ground. Had it been skimming close to the floor, perhaps; but the corridor stood wide and tall, and there wasn't much chance of this coming to pass anytime soon.

The sudden shift in weight distribution, however, caused the drone to tilt rearward, its thrusters ramming the thing - and Ineffable, unless he vanished again - right into the ceiling with a respectable crash. Dust, grit, and flecks of silver paint rained from above along with the robot, its formerly polished chassis now home to several char-black patches.

The end result was much the same as Simmons had anticipated; the mechanoid ended up on the floor, feet frozen to the ground like someone's tongue. The counterattack occurred as well, the spinal joint still permitting full rotation of the torso.

Cory's Blaze, however, did not yield the desired result. Head aglow in fiery red, as if it had been extremely ticked off, the drone let loose on the wizard with a full auto pulse laser volley.

Of course, if the wizard could still recall Solid Shot to his location while under such bombardment, the gun-toting android would find himself in the cone of fire as well. Still, chances were this wouldn't stop Solid from getting off his round. The potential impacts upon his arms and rifle, however, would have created a very adverse situation to a steady aim, resulting in the explosive shell standing very little chance of striking its rather maneuverable target.

Furthermore, the mechanoid blasting away may have done worse yet. It ignited its foot thrusters once more, trying to melt the ice of Cory's Chilblain spell to break free and take off yet again...

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

"That fellow has more brains than it would appear." Thermoplast remarked nonchalantly, stepping forward to pace after Rosalind.

"I may not be an expert on these things," he uttered coolly, "but from my experience, these beings you term 'gods' did not keep many records themselves. They tend to rely on followers to do so. Ergo, it may be wiser to seek such in locations of worship rather than here..."

OOC:

Yeah, that seems to happen a lot - ask a question IC and it'll just fly right over people's brains. You're not the only one I've had that happen to.

And no, I didn't know. That's why I asked. From all up to this point, the guy might've just as well been Dragonistic's twin. Okay, so basically black draconian guy with nodachi on belt. Check. Yes, it's nodachi. Just nodachi. No -, no caps, just a regular objective classification. Essex would eat you for mangling Japanese this way, so be warned.

And as a final note, I agree with Diov there. Watch the power balance. Apparently, my point was missed yet again when I had Danger say it, but if the heroes are sooooo strong and well-defended, then why is the world in chaos in the first place? Do keep these things in mind please.

((M'kay, since a certain someone doesn't seem to be getting the point when I ask IC, I'll have to do so here: what does Bladewing even look like? ))

"Well, that wasn't very convincing." Danger grumbled, and certainly loudly enough to be heard. Standing near table's edge, the diminutive being might have looked rather amusing, but the grasp of his hazel eyes conveyed a severity that truly defied proportion.

"So you guys mean to tell me," the Specialist cleared his throat, skepticism now visibly floating in his tone, "that the goons in the other camp are just evil, want conformity, wanton destruction, and death to their enemies. You, on the other hand, want to just 'live in peace'. Yet here you are, if I'm to believe this guy here, with more than enough defenses, and still you're plotting an offensive against them, attacking one another in drug-induced bouts of madness, and threaten each other even without such crud. Care to explain this...?"

Groul's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Wolffe's lack of commentary to Danger's question, casting a suspicious gaze over the table. Either the man had due reason to leave explanations to Marty, or something around here wasn't quite right.

"Yo!" the Specialist now shouted to the scrapper, having been so rudely interrupted by Bladewing striking up his sidebar conversation, "Mr. Short Attention Span - I asked you a question. What's the matter with you people? Haven't invented manners yet...?"

((Hey guys, how about we wait for Blood_Wolffe before dropping/scooting characters from the room? I mean, the poor guy hasn't even had time to respond to anything yet.

Also, Black Scorpion isn't there, Chameleon. ))

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

Specialist Danger leaped to his feet the moment the inky blackness of Bladewing's portal appeared in the cafeteria, already expecting a Shade. Observant as he was, however, the sigils informed him otherwise. That didn't mean the diminutive man relaxed in any visible manner, though - his right hand had already filched one pistol from its holster, and the left wasn't far away.

Field Commander Groul kept a much more cool and calm demeanor, regarding the new arrival with no motions but those his eyes, the rest of his red-scaled form giving no indication he'd even picked up on Bladewing's presence.

Actually, this wasn't entirely accurate. He'd ceased speaking to the Rover, and as Groul sank his teeth gently into his meal once more, two clawed fingers of his right hand motioned to Danger, indicating to the Specialist he should stand down. Neither had a plainly clear connection to the arrival, however.

Following this gesture, Groul requested the other on the line to stand by until he'd treaded out the new situation. He regarded Bladewing with great interest now, the similarities to the Dark Dragon quite many. Indeed, just what were the specifics of the new arrival's form...?

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

It was really too bad Nova hadn't spared the Dark Rover a second glance. Though it wouldn’t have been apparent from a simple once-over, the fusion plant that had come online within the vehicle was by no means detection shielded at this point.

Motion, however, hadn't come about. The only difference visible at the exterior were the flickering patches of flickering luminescence within several larger gashes - and then only if the observer stood close enough...

Delta 5 didn't waste a single flop of processing time, hitting the literal afterburners by igniting a pair of jump jets and taking to the air in a trajectory that quickly became a ballistic arc. The flying rock and bladerifle shots went wide due to the leap, and a charge could be seen gathering on the soles of the Titan's feet. Simultaneously, a field of force that looked more like a beehive than an energy barrier constructed itself in a hemisphere about the mechanoid's front, building on itself hexagon by neon-blue hexagon until it had completed the form.

The Titan came down with power, directly in the path of Solid Shot, having placed itself at a dozen meters and between the android and the drones. Upon impact, the readied charge sprang from its feet and spread rapidly along the floor, an electro-kinetic shockwave racing radially out from the Titan, capable of greatly harming and shoving back everything in its wake, even a rooted Randall Grey – at least so long as the target sat either on the ground or no more than a meter above it.

Many of Solid's electrically charged rounds found themselves beaten away by the wave of energy, though even more went above unaffected. Of those, the projectiles formerly speeding at the drone duo (now of course having Delta 5 in their way) collided viciously with the reflector field the mechanoid had projected, sending the bullets far and wide ahead of the machine, including at Solid and the others.

Needless to say, Acid's eyes widened quite a bit as he materialized from the teleportation he'd performed to jump past the shockwave, the reptilian at once changing his priorities and extending his palms in the directions of Cher'tak and Solid Shot to bring up his own brand of energy barriers in advance of them. He just hoped he'd acted quickly enough - if a force field wasn't there at the time a weapon crossed its line of action, there wasn't any way the barrier could stop it.

Delta 5 certainly seemed to have figured this out, its arms clacking closer to its side as the mechanoid charged forward at breakneck speeds, small spherical wheels in the soles of its feet giving the Titan incredible agility on the ground, not to mention the ability to speedily travel in all directions.

Rushing at Acid, who leaped to the side barely in nick of time, Delta 5 roared past the reptilian and barreled into the wall with a thunderous crash. Apparently, its systems hadn't been fully synched yet - but with the Delta units at the cutting edge of Malta's already ultra-high-tech arsenal, this was only a matter of time.

The Khelari certainly saw this, catching himself with a roll that ended in a crouch once again, his concentration broken by the sudden bull rush. The energy barriers had dissipated once more, but thankfully only after the reflected bullet storm.

"Heh, you should call it that!" Acid shouted to Solid Shot with a toothy smirk as he stood, not taking his eyes off the seemingly stuck Titan for a moment. It could've been a trap after all, "Now get going! I'll keep this thing busy! No worries - I'm gonna cheat...!"

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

This time, however, the drone was ready. Cold, calculating, and by no means surprised, the machine batted the hovering Ineffable aside with a concentrated burst of its arm cannon. The normenergetic shot may not have bothered the brute, but the force that came with it definitely knocked him away. At this range, there wasn't any way the blast could miss, and if Ineffable vanished again to avoid it, he'd still be out of the flying drone's way - either way, the path had been cleared.

And so the drones rocketed on, roaring across the open space in record time, and entered the transit corridor connecting to the north tower...

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

"He seems...unstable." Thermoplast commented emotionlessly, the cool, laid-back tone of his voice not letting even a hint of his thoughts shine through.

Still, the detective remained idle. There seemed to be much more happening here than was immediately apparent, and Rosie appeared to know just what...

Groul remained silent for now, though a slight nod confirmed he had surely listened - that, or it could've been simply part of the jerk his head had just performed to rend a sizeable slab of meat from the leg in his claws.

"Go on." Danger took the word instead, taking into his arms the cherry that he'd carried in his armorsuit's other hand, the fuit easily larger than the Specialist's head, "I mean, what makes these 'villains' so evil?"

Despite the obvious nature of his question as a catch-22, Danger appeared oblivious as he tore a hearty bite from his cherry, making his way into the fruit's core with deft speed. The seed didn't seem to bother him, a few crunching noises the only signs he'd even noticed the thing. The fact that Groul and Danger were very much alike, despite all their far-reaching morphological differences, stood clear and for all to see.

Before anyone could meditate on this, however, another interjection burst into being, though this time it seemed known to only the Specialist; at least at first. No sooner had Danger placed two fingers of his right hand than his comrade did the same. Unlike the Specialist, however, Groul didn't request silence by the raising of a hand.

The transmission certainly wasn't in English, and even if it had been, had been sent via hypercom; a means of communication unknown to humanity. The only one around liable to pick up on the signal was likely to be Lou, and he probably had other worries at this point.

"This is the Dark Rover calling R.F.S. COLOSSUS. We have mis-jumped. Requesting immediate extraction. COLOSSUS, do you read? We are not receiving your beacon. Please respond."

"Sweet, the Chief's here." Danger grinned broadly, announcing the news in English and turning to the Field Commander for a moment, "You take this one, I'll keep talking to these guys."

Groul gave soundless answer with a nod - quite a clear one this time - and then proceeded to speak in the unfamiliar tongue, though the red-scaled being seemed to know the language quite well. In a few short words, Groul reported in and exchanged the most necessary bits of information, such as the general situation, its classification, casualties, et cetera. It wasn't until a ways in that the conversation took a much more serious turn.

"Groul, I want you to listen to me very carefully. When I said we mis-jumped, I meant really so. After we plugged the Rover into one of the fighters, we launched a drone. It's telling us the deformer punched us almost 22 years too far ahead - not to mention the whole public location situation."

"Understood." the Field Commander returned emotionlessly, never switching to English or any language familiar to humanity as the discussion went on, "Any orders yet? There's an F-1-2-4, Scale A going on here. Definitely not something I'm comfortable stepping in right now..."

"Makes sense enough." Vern replied with a smile and a nod, "About how big is this facility of yours, though? I mean in terms of space, not area. M's pretty big, so if it's like Daniel's lab, he might not fit..."

((Hm...looks like there goes Blood's and my participation in the initial conversation. Guess I'll have to think of something else. ))

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

The Dark Rover's trail was hard to miss, the practical trenches its massive treads had cut into the landscape of Baumton standing as quite the easy trail to follow.

They led on for a fair distance, then stopped dead where the monstrosity had appeared, said area now bearing more resemblance to ground zero of a titanic tornado than anything else. The air had calmed once more, however, and nothing plainly visible offered any clues as to the vehicle's arrival.

Still, that didn't go to say there weren't any.

If the peacebringer could sense these things (or had some other mans of detection, be they arcane, electronic, et cetera), she could perhaps pick up on the large concentration of dark energy - the real stuff, not what people around here generally termed 'dark energy blasts' and such - that still hung in the air. The stuff was in the process of dissipating, flowing where it should naturally now, but someone had definitely gathered a frightening amount in this one location not long ago.

In addition, there seemed to be a greater presence of time, though the peacebringer would of course need a means to detect this fundamental component as well. If such eluded her, however, there remained a chance she'd pick up on the interactions of thus and this continuum, a process humans almost always misnomered as 'manifestation of temporal energy'...

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

Groul's eyes had given a minute twitch as the words 'villain base' fell, though he kept the rest of his body under masterful control. Not a single muscle moved in relation to the uttered verbiage, and even the twinge of his oculae had been barely noticeable, only susceptible to the wiles of a truly keen observer.

The motionless visage of Danger's armorsuit of course let through no clues as to the expression beneath, though the mutterings of frustration that resulted from finding only 'prefabbed' meals in the fridge certainly made themselves known, even as he stalked toward the kitchen itself.

Stepping closer to the table Groul wrapped the tip of his tail about the legs of the nearby frame of a chair, pulling the seat around and allowing the Field Commander to sit without too much trouble. Still, his towering frame in the - for him - rather small seat looked quite comical, even though he’d turned the thing about to avoid any complications the backrest may have given his tail.

Though he would've preferred inclusion in the ongoing discussion, he had to admit this was likely the norm around here. He'd read up on humans, and they'd always been described as extremely xenophobic. They often feared what they didn't understand, and considering Groul's appearance, it didn't take much imagination to surmise they'd rather pretend he wasn't here at all.

When Monarch and Caleb departed without a word to the Field Commander, however, Groul opted to take a more direct approach. Manners seemed to be a luxury here, the draconic being inquiring of Wolffe and Marty, but of course more specifically of the latter, "Well then, I couldn't help overhearing you are plotting some manner of strike. Against whom? And for what reason? Do excuse my naïveté, but thus far, no one's even bothered to explain to us just where we are and what's happening."

The crash of a raw leg of beef against the surface of the table pre-empted any immediate response, the Specialist having returned with his catch from the meat locker. Adding to his compatriot’s concerns, Danger staunchly agreed as he commanded his suit to its knees, "Yes, that's more than a little annoying. Do indulge...erg...one moment."

As he told them this, the armorsuit's chest plating had come flush with the table's edge, and just as Groul's head earlier, the panels now retracted into one another. This time, however, the retreat remained confined to the lower thorax, and the being that emerged from this suit was quite unlike the Field Commander.

Compared to the two point eight meters of the red-scaled Groul's towering height, Danger stood practically miniscule. Even compared to a human, he was downright tiny, no taller than twelve centimeters to be sure. The Specialist was humanoid however, his body's structure much resembling that of a Terran. Indeed, had it not been for his diminutive stature and ultramarine skin tone, Danger might very well haven't elicited a second glance from a human.

The Specialist wore his cobalt blue hair slicked back - naturally so to boot - and the slate gray outfit that resembled some manner of stealth suit definitely fit the guy. Apparently, whatever organization these two stood as part of retained a deft affinity for this hue of cool gray. A duo of pistols that looked decidedly alien and sci-fi-ish dangled from his belt, and the left boot held the plainly visible sheath of a knife. Like Groul, Danger's shins and forearms sat protected behind finely crafted guards, though his seemed firmly grafted to the material of his uniform.

"As I was saying," Danger went on, his hazel eyes having not lost the tiniest bit of the attitude he'd presented so far - though his voice had certainly lost volume - "please do indulge us."

With the Specialist having returned, Groul opted to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, hoping the more humanoid Danger would elicit a more accepting response from the humans if they weren't focused on acting as if he weren't around. The Field Commander's clawed fingers curled silently about the leg of beef, though the bone sent a deft crack echoing into the room as Groul's teeth-armed jaws snapped it in twain...

((Well, they were more trying to sell E drugs than ambush the guy. Not sure how Diov's expecting a drug ring to work in the middle of WWIII, but I guess to each his own.

But yeah, said random guy hasn't posted since he/she auto'd the Family guys, so I'd suggest you just pick things back up where you were. Of course, I always recommend reading the work of others...well, almost always. ))

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

"Oh, he'll eat absolutely anything." the Field Commander replied with a malicious smirk directed at his comrade, the suit of armor following the two with the same noisy, rhythmic steps as before.

"Not true." Danger denied fervently, and by now Marty may have noticed that Groul's voice didn't vary much from when he'd still donned his own suit either. The Specialist's tone of course still lay embedded in his suit's speaker system, "I do not eat rocks...often."

"Anything." Groul repeated quietly to the hero as Danger piloted his suit to the industrial refrigerator while the Field Commander approached the table. He'd gotten a good look at Dragonistic earlier, though not so much at Wolffe. Of him, he'd only observed the red leather armor that held a black trail down its sides. Now he took note of the eyes of iridescent blue as well. But what did the rest of the man look like...?

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

Or so she'd planned.

The female figure might have done well not to assume. Even a Kurukt wasn't capable of simply bending this 'metal' - more accurately, a metalplastic known as terconium. A staple for shipbuilding throughout this galaxy, the stuff could stand up to ludicrous stresses and temperatures, making it an excellent (if somewhat costly) material from which to manufacture interstellar vessels. To assume someone could just pull the stuff apart was just silly.

Luckily for the peacebringer, there sat another, somewhat larger gouge not a few meters to the side. It led into the same general sector, although this gash passed through the multi-layered hull entirely, even the honeycombed substructure between solid layers. Judging from the toughness of the terconium, whatever had managed to create this was likely something the peacebringer didn't want to meet - especially if it was still around.

Be that as it may, the 'inky blackness' that reigned inside wasn't anything but a regular-old absence of light. The Rover had no power, and the illumination had gone with it. For a being capable of emitting its own light, this of course wasn't much of a problem.

After she'd climbed and/or hovered up through almost two meters of mangled material, the peacebringer finally reached the actual interior through a tear in the floor. The room she'd arrived in wasn't much to look at; an armory of some sort, at least judging by the shelves that served as locking stations of what looked like relay race batons (though the high-tech nature of the weapons clearly indicated otherwise).

The chamber itself wasn't large, and the female could easily tell some of the armaments had been removed from the room after whatever fight had concluded. The open doorway at the other end suggested this as well, as doors that led to rooms that had been breached would logically have been sealed immediately during combat, not left open and accessible. Ergo, there was definitely someone here.

What defined as 'here', however, was a good question. The corridor that lay outside the armory led both ahead and astern...

((Um, what 'rear door' are you talking about? The hangar bays are in the front, covered with rubble. Even then, they might be tougher than you think. Don't assume such things. ))

((Wilco. With you describing him as having a paranoid militaristic personality and all, I wasn't quite sure where he'd draw the line ))

The duo of armored suits turned partially to one another in befuddlement; and not just for one reason. The first was of course Dr. Monarch's sudden overflow of energy. Justice and Marty's sudden shift of demeanor, not to mention immediate and trusting approach, became the second, and the third had to be the savagely scowling Flagstone, the man's harsh features seeming even more prominent as the aged man turned back to the entryway with a mumble of, "Bloody portal hoppers."

The simultaneous disengagement of the Bastion's automatic weaponry was the fourth and final source, as the two had already expected the things to start blazing as the stern man opted not to bother with them further.

"Technically, no." the left-hand figure gave answer, looking upon the extended hand with great uncertainty for a few moments before getting the idea, "Dark gates do involve n-dimensional principles to cross between worlds, though."

Very gradually, the armored fingers of a hand a good bit larger than Marty's own curled about the said appendage during this sentence - only to be interrupted by the arm of its comrade.

"You'll crush his bones." the right-hand figure protested, albeit in a calm manner, the demeanor almost educational to his companion, who immediately ceased the motion, pulling the hand back once more.

"Pardon my negligence." the armored figure apologized to Cross, the suit once more giving a pair of pneumatic echoes as its occupant commanded a step backward to give himself some space to disembark.

With a few clicks and clacks, the battered panels of armor that formed the front of the suit dislodged and retreated into their storage compartments, many of which in turn performed the same procedure, creating the optical illusion that the panels folded in upon one another, occupying space where there should have been matter.

The process took no more than a second, although a small number of panels remained where they were, the damage plainly visible apparently having been too much for the retraction system. Still, this did not stop the three large, clawed toes of a digitigrade foot from setting themselves upon the ground ahead of the armorsuit, followed shortly by the occupant's second.

At first glance, said occupant may have born resemblance to Dragonistic. Standing nearly two point eight meters tall, a layer of alizarin-red scales covered most of the dragon-like creature. Unlike the mutant woman, however, this being had clearly not a shred of humanity, and utterly no relation to members of the species. While the rule of 'two arms, two legs' applied, this was already where any sort of 'humanoid' definition ended.

The head beneath the armor hadn't changed much, only seeming to gain a number of spikes and a maw of sharp, carnivorous teeth, the tips of which were clearly visible behind the reptilian lips of the draconian visage. The spikes, on the other hand, lay mostly toward the back and sides of the head, curving slightly outward from the hind edges of his cheekbones. They became progressively larger from lower to upper, each row of the four, nearly finger-long spikes topped by an even larger example, thick enough to be called a horn. The two jutted mostly rearward, but also curved up ever so slightly, fitting the term quite well indeed.

The ridges of bone that sat above the creature's eyes held such spines as well - although these weren't nearly as massive as the horns, and even thinner than the examples that curved from the rear of the cheeks. Each row contained three of them, and though clearly rigid, these almost bore the appearance of additional sensory organs.

The pair of spines protruding from the forward portion atop the skull, however, were decidedly not. Short, thick, and decidedly sharp, they still didn't approach the two horns, but could likely be used to impale anything that offended their owner quite easily - as could the single spikes that jutted from elbows and heels, not to mention the procession of the same toothlike spines that ran from the base of the neck, down the back, and almost the complete distance of the clearly reptilian tail.

And this fifth appendage wasn't short or thin by any means. The being's tail held respectable mass, although it didn't quite come close to the rather athletic arms, let alone the creature's large leg muscles - combined with the digitigrade feet, clearly designed for leaping.

The torso melded seamlessly into all this, plates of auburn keratin forming an organic layer of armor over the pectoral and abdominal areas, extending a good ways down the tail’s bottom portion, the rest of the athletic body covered by the alizarin-red, finely interlocking scales of the tight-spanned hide.

A pair of slate gray tactical straps lay crosswise over the being's chest, apparently having the sole purpose of holding fast the large, finely wrought sword on his back. Aside from this and two pairs of guards that protected his shins and lower arms, the creature didn't seem to be wearing anything. It had already been cramped enough inside that suit of armor, not to mention that with his people being of reptilian descent, on his world such fashion was perfectly normal.

"Field Commander Groul," he grasped Marty's hand within his own, the large clawed finger still somewhat eclipsing the human's small palm. Groul didn't seem to notice, however, motioning at his associate with his other hand, "and Specialist Danger. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Now then, you called this location 'Bastion'. Could you elaborate? I'm afraid we're somewhat lost. Furthermore, you mentioned..."

A loud, gurgling growl from the towering being's abdomen quite suddenly interrupted the conversation, cutting the Field Commander's sentence short. With a silent glance at his stomach, Groul's scales grew just a bit redder while the still-armored Danger chuckled in an evil and sinister manner...

((Yar. How 'open' are Flagstaff and Bastion's staff as NPCs? As in, is it expected that they be written for most of the time? If not, I guess I'm waiting for your reply with them.

Furthermore, is Bastion the name of the safehouse, or is Bastion a type of hideaway humans around 2029 use? That'd definitely clear up the 'the' confusion in front of it for me.

Finally, I suggest Striga be the Fortress. Volcanoes always make great evil bases - and they're nice and comfy too. ))

Approaching the Dark Rover would be quite uneventful. The vehicle had stopped dead, and the same had befallen its systems. Not a trickle of energy could be made out.

There didn’t exist any hatches or personnel entryways, the dorsal hangar gates apparently the only originally planned access paths. However, some of the gouges that had been torn into the Rover were quite sizeable, and a few could easily let a creature of less than three meters pass; that was, so long as they lay in the aft sections, as the forward portion of the Rover had been nearly completely buried.

It may have been a tight squeeze, as the tears were rather narrow, but accessible nonetheless. Beyond lay...

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

Dark.

Pitch-black, utter, complete, and irrefutable murk - and a great deal of it.

The characteristic echo of bone colliding with metal.

A growl; no, more of a groan, such as the kind one might let out after a bad night's sleep, when all muscles still lay sore from the previous day.

"Ow." muttered a frustrated, grumbling tone as motion about could be heard, "What happened to the emergency lights?"

The answer was of course obvious, but when one's skull throbbed with pain, things tended to consume more time than usual.

"Not on, Chief." replied another voice, much the same as the first, though its tone sat a nuance lower, and liveliness sounded somewhat more present, as evidenced by the chuckle that accompanied the statement.

"I noticed. Have we stopped?"

"I think so, Sir."

"Good. Anyone else awake?"

A gaggle of voices sounded in the darkness, containing all manner of tones and noises, from the bubbled to the rasping.

"It's a start. Hmph...I can't see squat."

"Go for thermal, Sir."

"My headache is jamming me. Forget it. Just get power back, that's what matter right now."

"Right, Sir. Already found a conduit. I'll just plug..."

"That's my tail. Let go. Now."

"Sorry, Sir. Seeing is a little difficult right now."

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Just get power back as quickly as you can. I don't care how. After that, I want every millimeter of this thing swept, inside and out. Especially the aft sectors. It'd be a real pain if we'd dragged something nasty along from the other side and didn't know up here."

"I'll have Lancers out and about in no time, Sir..."

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

A duo of pneumatic taps sounded as the left suit of armor took two steps forward, its head visibly scrutinizing the 'welcoming committee' with all the care and precision a predator would give any potential rival.

The morphology and language didn't offer too many clues. There existed hundreds of species a human would consider to look like them, and the suits' translators would still need a little while to find the correct idiom from all of nine words. Hopefully, the systems even had it stored; or better yet, it'd been subject of a language course.

If not...they'd need more words, this was certain. And these guys didn't look in the mood to talk. Their weaponry may have been archaic, but the suits had already been heavily damaged. There was no telling how much more punishment they'd be capable of taking this day. The duo needed some time, for any number of purposes, and spending it in silence didn't seem to be the wisest choice.

"Halaton kher lemuu onsa." spoke the left-hand armored figure in a somewhat garbled, but still understandable voice that held a mechanical undertone, likely a result of the suit's damage. The figure's tone sat deep and in somewhat of a growl, but didn't seem to have entered the territory of the aggressive just yet.

Sadly, Flagstone's wordless response - a raised eyebrow complete with quizzical expression - blew the hope out of the lava that these creatures remembered their ancestry; or had any connection to begin with. Well, it had been worth a try.

"English." the right-hand figure finally uttered, the sigh of frustration in its tone unable to be missed, "That makes you 'humans'. So, do tell - what do you seek to gain from kidnapping us?"

"I will warn you now," the speaker's compatriot stated with a grunted huff, "your plans will fail. The Dark Dragon does not negotiate; nor does he look kindly upon the taking of hostages..."

((Well, they're wherever Justice Reborn is - I thought that was with the others, but if they're not around, I guess I made a mistake in location. That'd explain a few things. But yeah, I can roll with that. IC post to come once I have time.))

((Alright, this is getting weird. Build, Dragonistc, TH3OR3M, why are yalls ignoring me? Did I do something wrong? ))

((Bah, there I try to take a new spin on thread entry, and people just ignore me. ))

How right Justice Reborn was - and ‘brewing’ appeared to be just the right term. There seemed to be no shortage of arrivals in Bastion this day, although some arrived by means decidedly more unorthodox than others.

A gale whipped up and through the chamber, emanating from seemingly nowhere at all. This lack of source, however, lasted for all of half a second, a spherical vortex of murk and mire exploding into being right then and there. Hanging suspended in thin air, the thing had a diameter of nearly four meters, a writhing mass of darkness that coursed with black lightning. Hair-thin tendrils of hazy gloom cast their vaporous, immaterial touch across gas and solid alike, but seemed to be nothing more than an optical illusion, affecting what they caressed not in the least.

Not so what emerged.

Well, 'emerged' may have been inadequate nomenclature. 'Flung from' captured the situation more accurately. From the dark gateway shot a suit of powered armor that roughly resembled those worn by Rikti Gunmen, though at the same time radically different, coated in cool hues of slate gray.

Expelled rearwards from the portal, the construct's three independent toe stalks kicked a cloud of dust and noise into the room, perhaps even cutting deep grooves into the floor as they frantically tried to arrest the motion of the suit above them, the five fingers of the left hand desperately clawing upon the ground in attempted support. Indeed, it appeared the armored figure would have certainly liked to use the right one as well, though the long staff clamped in the iron grip of said hand somewhat prevented this. With a crystal carrying an azure aura at the thing's tip, its owner seemed quite unwilling to relinquish the rod - and for good reason.

After nearly six meters of skid, the armored arrival finally succeeded in halting his motion, stepping out of its crouch to stand at its full height of just over three meters. Similarities to a Rikti battlesuit now melted away utterly, and not only due to the thing's towering size and five-fingered hands. The suit's bulk was undeniable, though its proportions were not 'heavy' by any means, instead giving a very athletic appearance. It was just large. Large and tall - and the draconian features may have offered suggestions as to the reason, especially the saurian skull that narrowed ahead, and the long tail that possessed nearly the thickness of its legs.

The thing didn't carry wings, however. Instead a backpack of some manner sat grafted onto the rear, upward portion of the suit, its clearly high-tech compound plating interlocking neatly with the same of the armor, as well as the aft portion of the dragon-like head, which extended a good bit past where a human's cranium terminated.

The figure didn't pause to speak as it stood, seemingly not even aware there was anyone else about. Stepping ahead immediately afterward, each pace of a foot sent a loud, pneumatic echo into the chamber. This determined course, ignorance of anyone else's presence, and blatantly visible holes and scars in the finely molded plating of light and dark slate gray suggested this wasn't over by a long shot.

How true.

A second suit of armor burst from the dark gate, also thrust rearward and looking even more battered than the first - though this time the source came with. Grappling fervently with the new figure was a trio of spiny, insect-like legs, carrying horrid spikes upon multiple joints, and just generally looking vicious as could be. Whatever they belonged to bellowed a mixture of roar and hiss through the portal, obviously trying to either enrapture its opponent and drag him back to the other side, or emerge from the gateway and carry out whatever plans it had right here.

Neither suit of armor seemed to have any intent of letting this happen, however. The first instantly deployed a large-barreled energy machine gun from the radius of its left arm, the cannon laying into the pitch-black monster with loudly hissed report, bolts of orange iridescence slamming into the legs in rapid succession as well as into the gateway. Still, they gave not a millimeter, continuing to strike at his companion.

The second figure, however, seemed to have its own idea, taking a forceful step to the left and into the cone of an overhead halogen lamp. Almost immediately, the attacking limbs gave a sizzle and began to smoke, a haze of what resembled liquid shadows flowing up and against the ceiling while whatever sat at the other end of those legs roared with even more cacophony than before, trying to jerk its limbs back and out of the light.

The limbs released the suit of armor, retreating into the shadows of the portal, but nevertheless remained at its periphery, visibly plotting another strike within mere instants.

No dice.

The first suit of armor ceased fire and smashed the tip of its staff against the floor, shattering the crystal it held to pieces. Like a thousand shards of glass, the fragments sprawled all over the floor, and the same moment the otherworldly creature cried out with a vengeance, limbs twitching erratically as the portal collapsed in a burst of pure-white luminescence.

The whole spectacle had taken no more than three seconds.

Righting themselves once more, the armored duo only now seemed to realize there were indeed more people here than only the two of them - and though the first arrival had snapped the EMG back into its arm, and neither suit's eye slits contained anything resembling pupils (they were most likely just decorative), the phrase, "I hate Mondays." stood written quite clearly across both their faces...

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

Baumton

'Boomtown' had been a desolate wasteland for some time now. With devastation having spread to other areas of Paragon City, the sector lay more barren than ever, and the aura of depression that hung heavy in the air did so with more gloom than it had ever before. Lifeless, motionless, the burned-out structures wept their tears in silence, the soil about them not having stirred in years.

All lay in silence.

Until today.

Dust and ash were the first to begin the migration, pattering softly across disfigured asphalt and blackened earth as the ground beneath began to jitter. Mere moments later, scores of pebbles and small debris joined the procession, and the tremors of the soil grew in leaps and bounds, quickly claiming enough power to move ever-larger objects. Piles of detritus collapsed in on themselves as their components joined the frightful parade, meandering aimlessly across empty streets in all directions.

Finally, the oppressive silence broke utterly, giving way to the same gale that had burst its way into Bastion. The winds swept across the land with primal force up here, greater by at least one order of magnitude, and yet another dark gate burst into being simultaneously with its subterranean counterpart, the massive spherical vortex rocking its surroundings with seismic tremors and thunderous cacophony alike.

From the maw of darkness rolled a monster of a vehicle, an armored beast easily larger than a city block, roughly resembling some twisted manner of interstellar ship that rested upon a quartet of ludicrously wide tank treads. Led by a horizontally wedged bow and carrying a multitude of armaments, the jet-black Dark Rover ground its way forward like a tidal wave, crushing whatever lay before it underneath the mammoth treads.

The vehicle had visibly been through much, pockmarked with the wounds of battle, dozens of holes and large gouges torn into its thick armor plating, accompanied by an uncountable number of smaller scars. One of its two dorsal hangar gates lay bent inward like a crater, and the dual cannons of its port forward artillery station - one turret of the quartet mounted atop the casing of each tread - had been sliced like fresh salami. Still, said turret had fared better than the starboard aft. That one had been torn off entirely.

Apparently without any sort of control or force to propel it, the massive mobile behemoth seemed slave to none but friction now, and although it slowed visibly with each passing second, the sheer magnitude of momentum contained within the metallic beast meant it would brake for none save something equally massive.

The skyscraper in its path would suffice.

In a climactic clash of titanic proportions, the Dark Rover gouged deeply into the side of the structure, which responded by coming down upon the offending vehicle in an equally rude and noisy collapse, half-burying the monster of metal beneath the rubble.

Finally, all lay silent once more...

((Can't find anything that looks exactly like it, but this comes pretty close. Not quite as large, though. Paint it with some imagination and you'll be fine. ))

Indeed, the supply racks didn't contain anything out of the ordinary. Had something from planet Whatever XXIV been just lying around, the cover of a geological expedition wouldn't have been very good, after all. Though everything worked, the equipment on the shelves was indeed quite Terran and rather commonplace.

However, it was because of this cover that Igor may have gotten the idea where he could perhaps find some more exotic materials: the coring samples.

Vern hadn't neglected to bring such items along, and due to the underground of the Siberian tundra being rife with what many humans considered exotic materials, if Igor's definition of exotic was the same, he would easily find what he needed among the cores...

Vern let out a sigh as Vanessa departed the train before he could protest, more specifically at the others simply following her thus. Then again, the Krayten reminded himself, the rogue scientist likely knew what she was doing - if she wasn't worried about their opponents observing her and her entourage stepping off the train here, it stood to reason they weren't being observed yet.

Of course, only M would really know - and he still reconnoitered from high orbit.

"Always feels like I'm walking in ash." the quadruped remarked as he tentatively set the claws of his left foreleg into the snow, feeling the stuff give like some manner of sponge. Thankfully, his people had stayed in touch with their instincts, and so stepping out onto the blanket of white proved to be no trouble at all. The coating Vern had applied to his hide kept the cold at bay, insulating the reptilian so excellently he wouldn't even show as the tiniest dot upon a thermal imager.

"So then," he inquired of Vanessa as he stepped next to her, the Krayten's stature of course necessitating he turn his head to an angle sufficient to look upon her eyes, "should I ask M to join us then, or did we have something else in mind first...?"

The drones were quite speedy, and it seemed sure that if Acid hadn't executed short jumps through time and space, the reptilian wouldn't have been able to keep a steady firing position in the frantic chase.

Sadly, not everyone could do so. Solid Shot's slug deviated due to the mechanoids' erratic flight pattern. Still, the round struck, blasting off the target drone's communications antenna.

Oh, now there's a thought.

The notion that Toy's jamming field wouldn't be able to keep pace was naturally of concern, but if something like this could be done, said potential perturbation could be eliminated before it even got a chance to create a true problem.

The reptilian took a knee, aiming carefully as his mind tried to predict the movements of the two mechanoids' evasive maneuvers, the very same causing Cory's fireball to slam into nothing but ceiling, raining down debris that prompted the drones to alter their pattern yet again.

Ineffable, however, seemed to have surprised the two, and despite the erratic flight of his intended target, the punch still stuck, the fist wreathed in destructive emanations shearing the mechanoid's arm from just below its shoulder in a shower of sparks. Still, the strike hadn't succeeded in stopping the robot. The drones raced on, undeterred.

Even Acid's shot didn't cause them to halt as it took out the other machine's antenna, the reptilian following up with another teleportation ahead in order to aim his next blast just as well. He knew there wasn't much time, the mechanical duo already racing out of the tower and into the circular, open-air structure that bound this structure to two more of its kind, but this much time there had to be.

Thankfully, this seemed to become a moot point in short order, Ryat66 loosing his own energy-based sniper round, the bolt lancing down the hall and out into the structure, followed by nearly immediate contact with a solid target.

The Drop Ship...?!

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

Three Seconds Earlier...

Upon confirming Cher'tak's new orders, the Drop Ship's automatic pilot wasted no time placing the vessel in proper position, ventral weapons already charging as the ship slowed to a hover above the open-air torus. The moment the drones emerged onto the platform the three towers suspended, an Energy Burst would end their existence readily, the IFF systems keyed to match thanks to the Warmaster's foresight. Ready and locked, the ventral weapons would have no trouble taking down the two mechanoids below.

But not what came from above.

UNKNOWN ENTITY APPROACHING.

A horrendous detonation rocked the air itself with thunder; the Drop Ship's port aft section exploded with force, showering the ground below with flame and shrapnel.

ENGINE FAILURE. HULL ARMOR DAMAGED. LOSING ALTITUDE.

In a trail of fire and debris came down the vessel, ramming flat into the floor of the toroidal structure not a split second after the two drones had passed through underneath. The Ryat Unit's energy beam vanished in a cloud of smoke and dust, kicked up by the impact and rushing into the corridor with gale-force winds.

Acid didn't even have time to throw up a field of force, resorting to planting a boot on the ground and bringing his rifle up crosswise as he weathered the gust. With a predatory growl, he shot ahead in another teleportation not a second later, materializing atop the downed Drop Ship with the aim to either blast the drones again or locate the artillery position that had shot it down.

Of course, first things always came different, second than one expected.

From a column of black smoke came a heavy cylinder of blue, clocking the reptilian in the chest to send him crashing to the ground much like the vessel had done. Slamming down with his back for the second instance in what he considered much too short a time, the Khelari rolled back on his feet with a vicious snarl as he arrested his momentum, going so far as to dig the claws of his hands into the floor to bring to an end his motion in a crouch. The combi-rifle clattered to the ground over a dozen meters away, but presently that didn't much matter to its owner - the Titan that stood atop the Drop Ship was a great deal more pressing.

At first glance, the mechanoid may have looked as any other Zeus Class, the core chassis and framework the same - but only the first glance. The long blade that extended from its right arm, burning with the bright flicker of sun-hot plasma, was only the first clue as to what had taken the Drop Ship down.

The second was of course its designation, printed upon various locations of the Titan.

Not X-109.

Delta 5.

This was bad.

"Keep going." the reptilian rasped into the team's communications channel, spitting a clod of blood upon the floor that had lodged itself in his throat from the impact. He meant of course to keep pursuing the drones, feeling this was self-explanatory (the Titan had obviously locked onto him right now) as he continued to speak somewhat more normally, "I've got this jerk..."

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

"Weapons fire." the Colonel reported in not two seconds after she'd heard the first shots in the distance, two fingers at the side of her helmet to convey the message back to ops, "Understood."

The vanguard officer and her patrol didn't waste any time, bolting down the corridor from which they'd perceived the sounds of gunfire. Backup was on the way, but the Lady Grey had ordered immediate action, and the small troop of Vanguard operatives would certainly make the most of it.

Upon arrival, the group's Adept immediately cast his first spell, sending a shard of ice against the hovering Radiator in an effort to slow him. Nearly simultaneously, one of the two Soldiers blasted a flashbang in Ghost Killer's direction, the second standing by to do the same if the first didn't achieve the desired effect...

Negative. My characters will stay as they are.

((Hmm, this is looking interesting. You should speak with Burning Brawler some, he's put up a dystopian future RP before and had some great ideas you might like. ))

Build, people already made a thread for that sort of thing. Stop hijacking this one, all'a yalls!

And me - I too!

What did I do?!

But but but...insanity needs those things!

Sorry, couldn't help myself.