OOC: So, I've decided to try get back into writing recently after not doing any for somewhere around a year. Figured it'd be best to start with a character I'm planning to reinvent and reinvigorate for the game itself. Not sure of all the details in this story just yet, but I have an over-arching thread in mind, a middle and a conclusion all set. Just a case of getting there. Any feedback would be absolutely lovely, but it isn't necessary.
////
Nine years ago...
At eighteen years old this was the career Jane Lundgren had wished for, though it wasn't the career she'd expected. Picking through the ruins of an apparently abandoned research base, weapon in hand, desperately fighting the urge to gun down any rivet that sparkled threateningly, or any steam pipe that gurgled in a vaguely suggestive manner. The amount of sweat working its way down her back was needlessly distracting: a startling growth spurt during puberty and copious amounts of nutri-paste had created a girl who'd reached a size where even the larger uniforms were stretched and ill-fitting.
"Routine patrol. Yeah. Sure. Note to self: kick Sarger when I see him next."
Taking a deep breath, steadying herself and wiping away globs of sweat that had leaked out from beneath her helmet, Jane crouched and continued her slow shuffle. Had it not been in a state of utter disrepair, the facility would have been impressive one - smooth, shapely contours lined the room, giving a sense of warmth to something that was otherwise painted in bland and sterile tones of beige. Grime and muck had built up over the scant few months since its owner had closed up shop, but even now it felt as if there was purpose here; machinery and computers still lined the walls. Cracked and powered down, of course, but it was as if you could just dust away a sheet or two and settle down to work once more.
Jane fought the urge to call out into the darkness - for all she knew the rest of her squad had long since found itself in the belly of some forsaken beast, riddled with bullets from an ambush that had been waiting for them, or fried into a crisp pile by an irate mage, or stomped underfoot by a rampaging golem, or had their souls ripped out by those girls in the clown outfits, or had their minds torn apart by those aboriginals with the zombies, or dissected by some insane man with a-...on reflection, there were less dangerous careers she could have chosen. Alligator wrestling, for instance. Perhaps the fine art of dynamite juggling.
Another breath and Jane forced herself to descend a small flight of stairs, hopping across the few which had long since fallen away, cursing as her boots skidded against a scattered pile of bricks. Hearing her own voice echo down here made Jane realise just how criminally isolated she was; the radio was dead, and yelling out would probably bring hell's own army down upon her. Still, her patience was nearing its end...
"Oi! Sarge?"
No answer.
"Hughes?"
A water pipe giggled nearby, but nobody in uniform leapt out at her.
"...Jenkins?"
Nobody. Then again there was no sudden blast of light, no ominous chanting or shriek of gunfire to scythe her through the stomach. That, at least, was reassuring.
So reassuring, in fact, she decided to have a sit down.
The crate of unused test tubes protested under the woman's bulk, but didn't give out. Stretching and rolling her joints with a series of satisfying loud cracks, Jane slumped down and removed her helmet, auburn hair clumped against her forehead and cheeks. For the first time since coming in here Jane was comfortable enough to snap open a glow stick and drop it down to one side, immediatly casting the room in an eerie green illumination. Thick shadows become thin and stretched, tangling around themselves and distorting off into unusual angles. Untucking a cigarette from the rim of her helmet, Jane nearly swallowed a mouth of tobacco as she suddenly realised what she'd been looking at.
Its outline was just over six feet tall, nearly more than a foot shorter than Jane but far bulkier and far broader - its head half a sphere atop a skeletal design. One hand was adourned with a wickedly sharp set of claws, the other terminating in what looked like some sort of cannon. It just seemed to hang there, apparently suspended on some sort of hook, next to a dozen or so of similarly designed machines. One of them was even larger than its companions, taking a place of prominence in the center; its chest bulked with jet black armour plating and a second set of claws in place of the cannon.
A minute or an hour, Jane wasn't entirely sure how long it was until she started breathing again; not that it helped her nerves any. Giving her shotgun a vindicating pump, she pressed her nose as close to the largest machine as she dared - instantly slumping and laughing to herself at how stupid she'd been. These...things wore Arachnos colours. Black and red all over, with the same kind of visors she'd been staring down from so many recruitment posters. It suddenly twigged what the place was for; must have been an old storage unit for discontinued equipment. These fellas looked a little on the old side after all, and she didn't recognise the insignia on their
"JESUSCHRISTINHELL...!"
Where her head had been a second before was now a creaking, albeit no less terrifying, claw; the machine's head having rotated downwards to look at where Jane had flung herself. Shuddering and vibrating, the Mek began to slowly unhook itself from the frame, metal shrieking and grinding as its pronged feet ground into the rusted floor. A single, blinking light danced back and forth within its visor, each cycle seeming to awaken one of the smaller robots.
She swore a second time, opening fire.
A third time as she realised it wasn't doing anything.
A fourth as the largest Mek lunged again, its talons striking just to the side of her leg.
A fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth time as she scrambled to her feet.
A tenth time as she turned tail and ran like hell.
There was a series of high pitched whines following her up the corridor, punctuated by inhuman footsteps pounding their way through any and all obstacles in their way. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Jane dared to look back - instinctively flinching as a machine raised the cannon on its arm, aimed and...nothing. With her heart pumping a mile a second she continued to watch as its 'friends' repeated the gesture, again and again, the whining reaching its pitch before dying away as their arms lowered. Thanking Recluse for something going her way today, Jane continued to flee and curse, dimly aware she seemed to be travelling upwards - a route she sure as hell hadn't come down previously.
"I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need thCHRIST!"
With a thunderous crack of masonry and stone, the large Mek piled its way through a doorframe that Jane had passed by a few scant metres. Compared to the others it was nimble, quick - a deadly intelligence lurking behind its visor, shown in the way it searched for her, shown in the way it moved, in the almost smug manner it unfurled its claws and took after her, one shoulder lowered and bared in a crude bullrush.
Turning, Jane found herself suddenly specked with rays of sunshine leaking in from the other side of the corridor. A fallen support beam and years of grime covered the window, but she could see the street from here; just a little further, just that little bit...
Jane screamed, filling her lungs with a painful gulp of air, sprinting with what remained of her strength. Her pursuer was less then six metres away.
With five to go, Jane raised her arms.
With four to go she braced herself.
With three she leapt towards the cracked window.
With two left, she felt shards of glass slice along her forehead and arms.
With one to go, that no longer mattered; the sun poured onto her, fresh air whipping across her face and neck.
As its claw clamped around her leg, Jane figured out just how far up she'd run.
OOC: So, I've decided to try get back into writing recently after not doing any for somewhere around a year. Figured it'd be best to start with a character I'm planning to reinvent and reinvigorate for the game itself. Not sure of all the details in this story just yet, but I have an over-arching thread in mind, a middle and a conclusion all set. Just a case of getting there. Any feedback would be absolutely lovely, but it isn't necessary.
////
Nine years ago...
At eighteen years old this was the career Jane Lundgren had wished for, though it wasn't the career she'd expected. Picking through the ruins of an apparently abandoned research base, weapon in hand, desperately fighting the urge to gun down any rivet that sparkled threateningly, or any steam pipe that gurgled in a vaguely suggestive manner. The amount of sweat working its way down her back was needlessly distracting: a startling growth spurt during puberty and copious amounts of nutri-paste had created a girl who'd reached a size where even the larger uniforms were stretched and ill-fitting.
"Routine patrol. Yeah. Sure. Note to self: kick Sarger when I see him next."
Taking a deep breath, steadying herself and wiping away globs of sweat that had leaked out from beneath her helmet, Jane crouched and continued her slow shuffle. Had it not been in a state of utter disrepair, the facility would have been impressive one - smooth, shapely contours lined the room, giving a sense of warmth to something that was otherwise painted in bland and sterile tones of beige. Grime and muck had built up over the scant few months since its owner had closed up shop, but even now it felt as if there was purpose here; machinery and computers still lined the walls. Cracked and powered down, of course, but it was as if you could just dust away a sheet or two and settle down to work once more.
Jane fought the urge to call out into the darkness - for all she knew the rest of her squad had long since found itself in the belly of some forsaken beast, riddled with bullets from an ambush that had been waiting for them, or fried into a crisp pile by an irate mage, or stomped underfoot by a rampaging golem, or had their souls ripped out by those girls in the clown outfits, or had their minds torn apart by those aboriginals with the zombies, or dissected by some insane man with a-...on reflection, there were less dangerous careers she could have chosen. Alligator wrestling, for instance. Perhaps the fine art of dynamite juggling.
Another breath and Jane forced herself to descend a small flight of stairs, hopping across the few which had long since fallen away, cursing as her boots skidded against a scattered pile of bricks. Hearing her own voice echo down here made Jane realise just how criminally isolated she was; the radio was dead, and yelling out would probably bring hell's own army down upon her. Still, her patience was nearing its end...
"Oi! Sarge?"
No answer.
"Hughes?"
A water pipe giggled nearby, but nobody in uniform leapt out at her.
"...Jenkins?"
Nobody. Then again there was no sudden blast of light, no ominous chanting or shriek of gunfire to scythe her through the stomach. That, at least, was reassuring.
So reassuring, in fact, she decided to have a sit down.
The crate of unused test tubes protested under the woman's bulk, but didn't give out. Stretching and rolling her joints with a series of satisfying loud cracks, Jane slumped down and removed her helmet, auburn hair clumped against her forehead and cheeks. For the first time since coming in here Jane was comfortable enough to snap open a glow stick and drop it down to one side, immediatly casting the room in an eerie green illumination. Thick shadows become thin and stretched, tangling around themselves and distorting off into unusual angles. Untucking a cigarette from the rim of her helmet, Jane nearly swallowed a mouth of tobacco as she suddenly realised what she'd been looking at.
Its outline was just over six feet tall, nearly more than a foot shorter than Jane but far bulkier and far broader - its head half a sphere atop a skeletal design. One hand was adourned with a wickedly sharp set of claws, the other terminating in what looked like some sort of cannon. It just seemed to hang there, apparently suspended on some sort of hook, next to a dozen or so of similarly designed machines. One of them was even larger than its companions, taking a place of prominence in the center; its chest bulked with jet black armour plating and a second set of claws in place of the cannon.
A minute or an hour, Jane wasn't entirely sure how long it was until she started breathing again; not that it helped her nerves any. Giving her shotgun a vindicating pump, she pressed her nose as close to the largest machine as she dared - instantly slumping and laughing to herself at how stupid she'd been. These...things wore Arachnos colours. Black and red all over, with the same kind of visors she'd been staring down from so many recruitment posters. It suddenly twigged what the place was for; must have been an old storage unit for discontinued equipment. These fellas looked a little on the old side after all, and she didn't recognise the insignia on their
"JESUSCHRISTINHELL...!"
Where her head had been a second before was now a creaking, albeit no less terrifying, claw; the machine's head having rotated downwards to look at where Jane had flung herself. Shuddering and vibrating, the Mek began to slowly unhook itself from the frame, metal shrieking and grinding as its pronged feet ground into the rusted floor. A single, blinking light danced back and forth within its visor, each cycle seeming to awaken one of the smaller robots.
She swore a second time, opening fire.
A third time as she realised it wasn't doing anything.
A fourth as the largest Mek lunged again, its talons striking just to the side of her leg.
A fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth time as she scrambled to her feet.
A tenth time as she turned tail and ran like hell.
There was a series of high pitched whines following her up the corridor, punctuated by inhuman footsteps pounding their way through any and all obstacles in their way. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Jane dared to look back - instinctively flinching as a machine raised the cannon on its arm, aimed and...nothing. With her heart pumping a mile a second she continued to watch as its 'friends' repeated the gesture, again and again, the whining reaching its pitch before dying away as their arms lowered. Thanking Recluse for something going her way today, Jane continued to flee and curse, dimly aware she seemed to be travelling upwards - a route she sure as hell hadn't come down previously.
"I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need this I do not need thCHRIST!"
With a thunderous crack of masonry and stone, the large Mek piled its way through a doorframe that Jane had passed by a few scant metres. Compared to the others it was nimble, quick - a deadly intelligence lurking behind its visor, shown in the way it searched for her, shown in the way it moved, in the almost smug manner it unfurled its claws and took after her, one shoulder lowered and bared in a crude bullrush.
Turning, Jane found herself suddenly specked with rays of sunshine leaking in from the other side of the corridor. A fallen support beam and years of grime covered the window, but she could see the street from here; just a little further, just that little bit...
Jane screamed, filling her lungs with a painful gulp of air, sprinting with what remained of her strength. Her pursuer was less then six metres away.
With five to go, Jane raised her arms.
With four to go she braced herself.
With three she leapt towards the cracked window.
With two left, she felt shards of glass slice along her forehead and arms.
With one to go, that no longer mattered; the sun poured onto her, fresh air whipping across her face and neck.
As its claw clamped around her leg, Jane figured out just how far up she'd run.