Legitimate Spaceship Crew!

[ERode]

What? That was the answer? Just let the two Peis go at each other? Wow, he had thought that the Vulploid had a few screws loose before, what with deciding to hire a killbot and a walking allergen-spreader, but man, that wasn't a satisfying solution at all. He didn't have the time or the interest to watch two Vulploids go at it in hand-to-hand combat, after all. If he did, Brent would have just found some snuff film on BlackTube and watched that.

Also, such a solution wasn't profitable in any way at all.

Scratching the back of his neck, and not at all alarmed at the fact that they were instantly thrust into a mission due to the fact that their glorious captain had decided to host a job fair just a few hours before the mission actually began, the brunette accepted the earbud, shoved it in, and simply leaned beside the air ventilation shaft stylishly, recycled wind tousling his hair. Everything that he every needed was already underneath his coats, after all, and travelling well-armed was always good. Looked like the killbot didn't have much in the way of luggage as well, so, ultimately, he just enjoyed shooting the breeze and only sneezing occasionally.

The mission details were fairly straight-forward, just a smash-and-grab, really, with the added bonus of going fuck-you to the entire space station. Pulling out his trusty Ares Matter Blaster, Brent gave it a quick once-over, before saying, "Well, I'm a pretty smart, sneaky guy, if I do say so myself, but yeah…if the plant thing's doing hacking stuff, I'll blow shit up. Who's the –achooo- 'ployer anyways? Another mysterious representative from some unknown organization? A rival space station? Or one of those crazies with too much time and money on their hands?"

 

[Astoria]

Well… Trial by combat was fair game too.

Myuri blinked twice as Pei finally came down from her perch atop the table. Landing rather close to the turquoise-haired girl for comfort, she was more startled by her declaration that everybody had been hired. After all, she'd been thoroughly creeped out by the red-haired ant person. Why was she hiring some creepy queen ant thing!? Before her protest could become audible, her impaired attention span was taken by a small earpiece that had been thrust into her field of vision. Reluctantly taking one for herself, she sincerely wished that it wasn't encrypted; otherwise she'd have to shove the annoying thing down one of her ears, and she didn't like putting unnecessary things in herself when it wasn't warranted. Unfortunately for her, the communications of the thing were encoded and secure.

With all of her equipment and belongings already on her person, she followed Pei onto the ship, although without being a bit grumbly and shooting several several glances towards the aforementioned creepy girl. Inside, though, a there was a whole new surprise for Myuri. The accurate representation of the station did little to startle her, but the mention of stealing the station's capacitor banks was something else. Besides the fact that she knew that the station would probably nuke itself faster than a breached FTL drive, one of the banks might have already been aflame. But nobody here had to know that, and she was going to be tight-lipped about it.

While she had her reservations about consigning everybody else on the station to death, she was quite happy to have taken the position after learning about the plan that Pei had laid out, so she wasn't really in a protesting mood. The plan itself didn't have any glaring problems to Myuri, and as for the problems of getting access to things, she had that covered.

"So hey, here's the thing… They used to hire me to fix things here, at least until their dumb asses didn't pay me. I still have all their access keys, and I don't think they've changed it. I can go with team sneak and they won't know what hit them."

 

[Kazama]

Tick's simulations (or rather just one of them) had been right on the money?
Machines: 3 / Organics: 0

And so, the team began to gather their belongings. Time for Tick to do his own packing. The robot threw a glance towards the heavy machine gun strapped to its back and the two submachine guns on its waist. Ammunition was safely secured in pouches and bandoleers slung over its chassis. Check, check, and check; everything simply hunky-dory. Inventory inventoried, equipment equipped. Packing status: Packed.

The earpieces presented a problem for Tick. First and foremost, Tick has no ears in which to put an earpiece into. Second, Tick's speech doesn't come from his head because he doesn't have a mouth. It's difficult to tell, but if one were to listen very closely, they'd realize his vocalizations actually come from somewhere around his neck and shoulders; far out of range of the earpiece. With so many sensors on his head providing dozens of different types of vision, vocal units had to be moved a little further south. Case in point, Tick can't put on an ear piece and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to talk into it.

On the upside, Tick's made of hardware and software just like any other machine or piece of technology. On a very basic level, he's just a highly advanced and violent version of this earpiece. The earpiece was broken down and its microchip put into a small port on the back of Tick's head. It may be encoded, but Tick wasn't trying to break its encoding. He wasn't trying to gain access to the earpiece, he was trying to become the earpiece. Once the earpiece's hardware was recognized, it was just a matter of rerouting the input to his vocalization software and the output to his audio recognition. Their words went directly to him and his words could go directly to them without him having to audibly say them. The encoding security was still there; it was just the input and output that had been changed. All you organics out there who can't turn yourselves into earpieces chose the wrong team...

As the members began to trickle back with their belongings, they were all ushered inside the V-63. Pei's missing briefing was... energetic, but the objectives were everything Tick could have hoped for. Kill organics, steal something from organics, and then kill all organics on the station. If robots celebrated birthdays, then this big ol' cake of ka-boom is exactly what Tick would want for his. This deal was already paying off! Team Fighty was definitely the way to go. That Diamond Sentinels HQ had his serial number written all over it.

"[I will join Team Fight. The Diamond Sentinels will be eliminated. All lifeforms on station will be eliminated. Eliminate. Eliminate. Eliminate...]"

The repetition of death threats means he's excited!

 

[a touch of dread]

Broodmother tried to make quick mental notes. So no shooting, not even when asked, unless asked by two, then definitely shooting. But no biting! Unless told so... "Yes, understood, you shall be only bitten as asked!" the antennae-humanoid nodded in a up-and-down bob, like learning student. As Broodmother had never before had a job, just had to be broodmother, she thought the demands all reasonable terms of employment. She was learning fast, this was a great start!

It looked like the job was moving forward already. Broodmother already had what she needed, cleverly taped upon herself under her clothes. Just thinking of it made her beam in pride. Following the lead, she took the small device in hand, "Thank you, clotheless being!" before slyly looking at her fellow, as her former 'temp agency manager' called it, 'coveorkers'. Broodmother didn't understand what coves had to do with working amongst others at the same ajob, but nevermind that! She had to stick this device into her ear just like everyone else. "I have mine on indeed," Broodmother responded to the sudden sound in her ear. So this was like that other device, that 'broadcast' system, except they could broadcast their voices into everyone's heads.

As Broodmother listened to the specifics of the job, she realized she didn't know what a Capacitor Bank was. But she did know what a bank was. It must be some form of a bank, of course! And those were big enough to spot. Three seemed very space consuming, perhaps they would be getting the banks in pieces!

And then her employer placed her in quite a dilemma. Diamond Sentinels, the Formicoid didn't know what they were, but what better way than showing her skill and thereof her value as an employee of this ajob by being part of the team that bulldozed through them. In her mind, she imagined large square metal beings falling down, her conquering them with a laugh, a stomp, and a flag-- Oops, hello reality! But then, crawling through the air shafts- something she'd done almost soon after her arrival on this rock- those enclosed, dark spaces; it'd be like home all over again! Ah, decisions.

Finally, one side won out over the other.

"I will make up the smash in team shoot-smash!" she volunteered.

 

[Insomnant]

As far as earning brownie points went, Broodmother now also had a gold star next to her name for clearly getting the correct lesson out of her answer to the Riddle of the Two Peis. "Yes, exactly!" she confirmed the conclusion about biting with a thumbs up and a big smile for the short- though... taller than her- antlady. Everything was going super smooth.

And everyone was dealing quite well with the mission assignment! Of them all, only the leafy one wandered off to fetch belongings. That earned a rather troubled look from their vixen employer at first, realizing that all of them would be mooching off her stuff. She had one fork. One fork, on the entire ship. And now they'd have to share. Oh singularity- she only had one toothbrush too!

Keeping her misgivings inside, Pei pushed on to the rather productive matter of self-sorting employees! Pei nodded along with Rosa's explanations of her abilities. "Oh, that is actually very good to know! Wait, why am I only just now hearing about this...?" she asked no one in particular, wondering if there was some sort of way to find out about a job applicant's skills before batch-hiring everyone who showed up. "Well anyway, that's great! You should definitely go in the ventilation system. Plus it's good, you'll have lots of... air? Which... you people need...?" She gave Rosa a probing glance as if seeking some sign of validation- or at least not moral outrage. Completely failing to realize that being in a duct full of carbon-dioxide-scrubbed, oxygen-injected air isn't like the day in the spa she's imagining it being for Rosa.

Brent was next and his reply brought a big grin too persistent to hide to Pei's lips, her ears directed forward to give her sly smile a predatory lean. "Oh ho- no no, you should go with plant thing. Don't worry though, she'll have a space suit! You both will! In fact, to save on oxygen- we'll just connect her suit directly to yours, it'll be perfect!" she chimed with such bubbling optimism that it almost became feasible to question if she was dumb enough to actually think that a viable suggestion. Luckily, her impish snickergiggles a moment later put that notion to rest. "Hmhmhmhmhm! Don't you worry bout who is paying me- only, that I am paying you~ And I'm certainly not paying you to question who's paying me!" she pointed out with toothy grin and emphatic swish of her tail. She was standing on a bench next to the holo table, so as to actually see the station map- it only put her on par with Rosa but that was good enough!

But as fun as jokes were, there was a job to complete and she nodded sagely to Myuri. "Axcellant! You and Leafbutt can be Team Creepy, and stealthily go ahead and-!" she paused with a snrk at Tick's interjection. As if that'd ever been in question. "Yeah you betchya! All the 'liminate you can handle." And that just left Broodmother, who decided on the rough and tumble! "Ah-ho, very good! Three for team Can't-Use-Big-Words and two for team Can't-Handle-Spotlight! I couldn't've divided you up better myself!" She beamed at them with what presumably was pride, but also very well could have been hunger, given the pointy vulpine teeth she was showing off.

"Alright then, my minions! You two-" she pointed at Rosa and Myuri- "Suit up! Or... grab a space suit anyway, and scootaloo on off to, at... by the vent entrance... then suit up!" And then her attention shifted to Tick and Broodmother and Brent, all three of them in fact, despite only having two eyes (the ears covered the third). "And you three grab some guns or whatever and get on down to the admin wing! Mission starts when you kill the secretary or lookout or whoever you run into first. Oh and... keep track of your kills, too- your pay is totally dependent on that." she stated with a straight face, sounding helpful even. Not telling them that their pay definitely was not based on their kill totals, because where would be the fun in that?

"Alright, legitimate spaceship crew, go!" She might need to come up with a new rallying call at some point.

 

[R-9 Pilot]

"I can photosynthesize, but largely, I do still need oxygen for my metabolism," Rosa explained very briefly. Of course she needed air. She could produce her own simple sugars easily enough, but most of her body was still running on an oxygen-burning metabolism. If she didn't, she'd be much...much...slower. Sitting in the proper lighting conditions for most of a day could substitute for a good meal, but it wasn't enough to get by just on its own. Less so if she were actually wearing clothes.

Rosa began rummaging around in her duffel bag, and pulled out a skintight suit covered in a network of careful patches and subtle repair work. She began pulling it on, carefully tucking in any actual flowers growing on her person. "No spacer should really be without one of these," she said as she produced a helmet from her bag after more rummaging around. The helmet and suit both bore traces of MAG insignia that neither time nor effort had completely annihilated. "If you used to work here," she started talking to Myuri, "You'll probably have to lead the way. I doubt I'd know the station layout any better."

She was about to pull the helmet on (and give some small semblance of sweet relief to their resident allergic) when she realized something and paused. "I can't exactly go calling everyone 'Hey you,' or anything, and I don't think we've been introduced, so...I'm Rosa. Nice to meet you all." She beamed a warm smile around the ship's cabin and pulled the helmet on.

 

[Kazama]

With the promise of unrestrained warfare ahead of it, Tick was marching off towards the Diamond Sentinel's headquarters the second he was given the chance. His two new team mates were allowed to tail him, but if Tick could have his way, each and every Sentinel would be his. Right down to the janitor. The administration building wasn't very far and by the time they got there, it looked as shoot-able as ever.

Like an impeached president lost to drugs, the Diamond Sentinels' headquarters looked like box of stately authority with a big sheet 'run-down mess' draped over it. The words GALACTIC COALITION had fallen victim to time and vagrancy, and now read 'GAL T C C ALI ION'. The first 'C' from GALACTIC was still there, rolled over on its side, draped in a dirty tarp, and scribbled with graffiti wherever the tarp didn't cover. The building's angular edges and authoritative demeanor were masked under graffiti and broken windows. The two double doors that led into what some might have called a lobby when this station was operational were dented, ugly, and the entire building had seen a few firefights if the burns and bullet impacts were anything to go by. And baby, it was about to see one more.

Tick didn't wait for plans or even for his two new team members to catch their breath. The heavy machine gun on Tick's back was slung around his shoulder and held like a rifle. To word 'heavy' in 'heavy machine gun' was a bit of an understatement here. The MWS-44 was almost as long as an adult human male was tall; and weighed more than one too. And yes, it was military hardware. The Free Battalion of Terrans and Canoids (or FBTC if you're in a rush) tended to use these by mounting them on vehicles or setting them down on a bi-pod as a gun emplacement. Not as part of infantry load out. But when you're made of titanium and have heavy duty mechanical servos instead of muscles, the weight of a gun becomes less and less of a problem.

"[Eliminate.]"

As Tick marched across the empty, poorly guarded courtyard, the two double doors looked more kick-and-smashable in that moment than any other doors in the galaxy. One robotic kick sent the doors bursting open. The front lobby had been converted into a sort of hang-out for the diamond sentinels. Where fed-up old ladies had once waited to file complaints, Diamond Sentinels now kicked back, counted the money they muscled off the smaller fish on station, and drank all sorts of liquors cause alcohol is the go-to thing to look tough for those who don't know how to actually be tough. The door flew a few feet into the room and slid along the bottle-littered floor, clinking against the glass as it went and sending up little sparks as the metal door rubbed against a metal floor.

"[Eliminate.]"

Funny how effective a gun designed to hold defense points can be if you bring to someone's front doorstep and fire it into their living room. If you've ever seen what a particularly powerful airsoft gun does to an aluminum can, then imagine that but on a larger scale and with thugs instead of cans. And with hundreds of rounds. The moment Tick started firing, the room filled up with hot lead as the rapid fire weapon ratatatata'd away. One thing that's nice about the MWS-44 is that it has two barrels that fire simultaneously. That's right, it's double barreled machine gun, and yes if Tick was human, the recoil would break his arms. The Sentinels who were too slow to take cover were turned into human Swiss cheese as the two rapid firing barrels flared and barked. Even some who had taken cover were still hit as the high caliber rounds tore through soft cover like it was styrofoam. Bullets tore up everything in the room, turning it into a little box of flying lead, hot metal fragments from the walls and floor, and deafening gunfire. The few sofas in the room were splintered and torn to pieces, while the wooden tables that were flipped suffered a similar fate. The thin metal and plastic bar that had been installed lost one of its supports, started to lean to the left, and then promptly collapsed as more and more rounds tested its ailing strength. The bottles behind it exploded as bullets annihilated enough bottles of Captain John Mallory's Whiskey to make the old pirate roll in his grave. Some of the Sentinels fired back blindly, sticking their hands out from behind the haven of thick cover and sending badly aimed bullets down the other way. A few of them hit Tick, but the only result was a loud ping and a spark from somewhere on the bot's chassis as the round ricocheted away. There was a burst of sparks and a loud clatter as a shotgun blast found its mark, but did little to actually stop the rain of fire from the robot's weapon.

Tick didn't stop firing until he ran out of ammo and both barrels went "click".

About 60, maybe 70 percent of the Sentinels would make golf courses jealous with the amount of holes they had in them now. The room went eerily quiet, with the only sounds coming from Tick reloading his weapon. It was a lengthy process since the gun was so big, so when the lead rain didn't return immediately, the survivors took it upon themselves to avenge their lost bar and booze. They leaned out from behind cover and a firefight began. Over the intercom, someone shouted. The voice probably belonged to whoever was in charge of this troop of Sentinels.

"Don't just sit there, kill it!" And after spotting the other two, "Them! Kill them! Just fuckin' shoot 'em!"

Lots of Sentinels were dead, but that wasn't all of them. The doors leading further into the building opened and a few more thugs poured out. Including one rather large fellow with an EMP rifle aka Robot Kryptonite. The thug wore several robot heads on a belt around his thick abdomen and various pieces of robots around his body. On top of his standard issue "I'm a thug, look at me" uniform there was a whole layer of torn up machines repurposed as armor. His helmet had once been the head of a heavy duty load-bearing robot. There's such a thing as people who hate robots with a psychotic passion; kind of like serial killers but with synthetic or mechanical things. Or maybe it's a fetish thing. Maybe it's both?

"I'm gonna make you my codpiece, tin can!"

Yeah, it's probably a fetish thing. Nothing some more heavy munitions can't solve.

Everyone took cover and now that the shock and awe of Tick's entry had worn off, the firefight began in earnest.

 

[Astoria]

The plan of the antler-headed girl was ultimately not sneaky-sneaky at all. With the information and past relationship she had, Myuri was confident that she could just waltz in there and sabotage the whole thing over again… just like she'd done earlier in the day. Mostly. If it was discovered she'd already messed around with things, then they'd be in a tight spot, but hey, small details, right?

That said, with the need to don suits, the whole ruse might be harder to pull off if any of the Sentinels came across them, but she also was positive that she could bluff her way through them. With a hand gesture, she excused herself to a less exposed corner of the bay to change into her own suit. While it was clingy and skintight like Rosa's, it lacked patches or any obvious repair work. Myuri used lots of old, clunky, retrofit junk for gear, but when it came to actual space things, she preferred to minimize the chance of a freeze-dried death in space. In the case of this suit, it was dark and bore no insignia except for a manufacturer logo just below the neck. She returned to the gathering suited up sans helmet, which was tucked between an arm and a body. Making it in time just to hear Rosa, she piped up with her own introduction before scooting off with Rosa to their own mission.

--

"Hey! The fuck's up with the suits?"

To make it through to the air filtration shaft, Myuri and Rosa had to pass through a small maintenance station at its base. Because of how… vital it was, it was under lock and key with armed Diamond Sentinels, but true to her word, they didn't pose much of a problem.

Within a dinky junk-filled room, the small turquoise-haired girl stood in front of the Diamond Sentinel that guarded the access lock the shaft. "Don't be a retard, D'gib. That's an air filtration shaft, do you think I'm going to breathe that shit in?" She was tempted to add "and because you smell," but she wasn't drunk enough to add even harsher words to her feigned banter. Even so, she seemed to look longingly at the beer bottle the reptilian guard was clutching in his claws.

"This thing's going to be big, so I'm bringing in help. I've already sorted it out with the boss, so don't pitch a bitch fit like last time, okay?"

With an irritated grunt, the big lizard tucked his tail in and keyed the console, allowing Team Sneak to pass through. Gladly putting space between her and the access porthole, the two moved forward through the shaft's obstacles without much interference; the fans were easily stopped via a universal code, and with her access 'officially' noted, they were ignored by the motion-detectors, laser beams, and super-death razor-blade drones.

At least, until the sounds of explosions and machine gun fire echoed down the shaft, followed by the klaxon of sirens and the red flash of alarms throughout the entire space. Team Shoot-smash was hard at work, but maybe they were a little too good at their job. With the emergency alarm tripped, any deactivated defensive protocols in the shaft were overridden. And they were out in the open in a wide corridor. And she swore she could hear the wappity wappity of the flying razor death drones.

"Shitshitshitshitshit!"

 

[ERode]

"I'm gonna make you my codpiece, tin can!"

Famous last words for a robot-killer, really. Tracking down Mr. EMP Rifle as the Diamond Sentinels took cover, Brent drew out the MIKASA, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Instantly, his arm blew back from the recoil, as a thunderous roar tore through the room. At seven times the speed of sound, even a baseball-sized armor-piercing shell could pack a big punch…though it would have packed a big punch regardless. The overturned tables that made up for Sentinels cover was, as a result, practically didn't exist. Robo-Slayer-kun had a large hole punched straight through him, and, with the power of mathematics, the table was torn asunder by the ensuing sonic boom, scattering everywhere like shrapnel and smacking a couple of the remaining armor-thugs.

In the face of such noise, the cartridge that bounced off the floor was practically inaudible, as Brent mentally patted himself on the back and aimed his Matter Blaster next. Honestly, it was sorta unfair, that all these silly little kiddos thought that they were safe just because they had some cover against Tick's rapid-fire peashooters.

"Don't worry, bucket bro," Brent said, a toothy grin surfacing, "I gotcha back."

With that, his left hand was tossed backwards from recoil now, a concentrated beam of deconstructed matter shooting outwards to decimate another group of those heavily out-classed scrubs.

"DO NOT FEAR!"

Pang!

A distorted explosion resounded as the matter blaster beam bounced upwards, deflected by the flatside of an A-01 Barrier Buster. Golden radiance spilled out from the hard-light blade wielded by a lithe Diamond Sentinel, his armor streamlined to make him look more like a ninja than anything else. Face obstructed albeit for an eye-slit that let out a red glow, he flourished the mecha-sized weapon as if it was merely a pen, before pointing it towards the intruders. From behind, his long, light-blue hair seemed to billow in the wind, even though there was no wind.

"I AM ECLIPSE! PREPARE YOURSELVES, VERMIN! THE END HAS COME!"

Arms streaming behind him, he ninja-dashed on a wall, before spinning thrice in mid-air and swinging downwards with his laser sword.

Brent wondered what sort of drugs the dude was hooked on, and allowed the killbot to figure shit out.

 

[Insomnant]

Her minions were off to do her bidding and Pei could now relax! Well not really, she had work to do too... but hers was easy in comparison! Turning toward the ladder leading up to the cockpit she paused mid-swivel, blinking curiously at the unmoving ant lady. "Well? Go on, geet! They'll need every bit of help they can get! Plus you're missing all the fun~" she insisted, giving Broodmother a little helpful shove before traipsing over to the ladder.

She was actually feeling pretty great about this plan. Yeah sure, she'd procrastinated on hiring a new crew until right before their payload was due but necessity was the grandmother of getting Vulpoids off their asses. Which made Pei giggle as she flopped onto the pilot's seat with a little wiggle to get her tail around to the side. "Ahem!" she cleared her throat, and leaned in with a tap of her index finger on the vocal transmunicator. "This is-" then she sat back, eyes wide open with a look of shock. Shit... what fake identification info had she used when she'd docked this time? "Eh- keh! Cough! Hrgk- hold on!" she did her best coughing fit impression as she began swiping through the gesture screen field to find the details. "Ah- erg, sorry about that. Swallowed some... went down- anyway! This is Captain Tandy Panz of the Freighter Succulent Salmon requesting clearance for take-off!" She scowled at the stupid names Heather had come up with. It reminded her once again to alter the random name generator parameters on the stupid robot to screen out ridiculous results.

"Request received, Succ. Salm. It's gonna be a while. We've had a tanker collide with a food shipment. Bad news is, it'll take about three hours to get the wreckage cleared and the mess cleaned up. Good news- if you're hungry enough and want to help clean up, there's beer and freeze-dried ice cream everywhere. It's actually not a bad comb-"

Pei cut off the transmission so that the weirdly talkative space traffic controller couldn't hear her wordless yell of frustration. "Grarrrr!" She huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest, considering her options. Her musing was interrupted by-

"Previous encount-" but that's all it took for Pei to jump nearly high enough to hit her head on the glass ceiling above. "Supernova above! Don't sneak up on me!" she yelled at Heather, who had made it halfway up the ladder below her. The robot continued talking in spite of the Pei foot now hitting the top of her head in an attempt to force her back down.

"Previous encounters suggest high likelihood that this disturbance is a delaying tactic. We may have been compromised."

Exasperated, and with an aching foot to show for her efforts, Pei huffed and her ears flicked in annoyance. "Yeah yeah, I'm sure it is. I obviously wasn't going to just sit here and wait to get spacearrested. Make sure Bugmadam is out and then close up. We've just been moved- er, put at... we're cutting in the line!- to get... forward, out of here faster." She made a fist in front of her in what would have been a totally badass motivational moment had Heather not stared at her for two seconds silently before dropping off the ladder and walking away without saying a word.

---

The Diamond Sentinels were quickly being reintroduced to the sort of violence they hadn't seen ever since they took over the place and became the de facto government. All the trappings of legitimacy had been corrupted into a surprisingly effective criminal bureaucracy. One office room was filled with drugs and those lost to its effects. Another stacked with weapons that rapidly depleted as the call to arms went out among the gang members. The security room had been converted into a gambling den with tables they'd dragged in for playing various games. But right now all their attention was on the security holograms showing in 3D the action going on in the lobby. Bets were furiously being placed, some opting for Eclipse to "fuck 'em up" while others had their money on the walking metal death machine and a few others the human with the surprisingly effective smaller guns.

The only one who didn't seem frantic was Jackie Diamond himself. An insectoid fellow with enormous mesh-covered eyes on either side of his head and vertical mouth that drooled yellow saliva onto the metal of the war-suit he was getting into. Several lackeys helped get him strapped in- the power armor was actually originally a mechanical loader used at the docks to lift heavy crates of ore into place. But it had since been converted into a weapon of war and he fully expected to have to use it to put down these upstarts who challenged the Diamond-hard fist with which he ruled the station!

But first they'd have to make it to his lair, the private hangar that had once belonged to the station defense fleet. Now it was filled with trash- and of course, the loader mech, a 10 meter tall beast strapped with rocket pods and a cannon mounted on each arm. Let them come, Jackie Diamond would be waiting...

And while he waited, one of the goons Tick filled with holes managed to slump back against the music control console. His blood-soaked back managed to select a song before he slid to the ground, and suddenly grinding, gyrating synthbeatpops filled the air from the aftermarket oversized speakers set up throughout their hangout. Loud enough that it echoed into the ventilation shaft even, adding a dramatic flair to cover the sound of spinning blade disc-drones chopping toward the duo of interlopers like a stirred nest hornets!

 

[R-9 Pilot]

Rosa glanced around hurriedly. "Well fuck," she swore as the alarms went off. "Not much for it now, is there." She patted herself down, to discover that she had forgotten to bring a weapon. Not tat the needler would be much good in this sort of situation. "I don't suppose you're armed," she asked Frey. Got to hope at least one of them actually had some semblance of a weapon. The alternative was to think fast, and at least shut down what defenses she could completely on the fly. And she did not relish the thought of trying to shut down several murderous drones as they flew right for her.

"I'll do what I can to disable any stationary security measures, but we're probably best off just making a break for it and covering our asses as we go," she suggested. No reason to sit around longer than they had to. "I'll put a priority on any active fans in our way and sealing any bulkheads we can put between us and more drones, but if it's gone loud now, no reason to think about the rest of their security set-up in the way." They could trip all the stationary detectors they wanted now, at least.

Rosa moved over to one wall for some semblance of cover and mentally keyed up her mesh inserts. The local 'net was pretty shitty, but near-universal wireless was the best way she had for getting at anything in the local system. She certainly wasn't going to wire herself to anything if she was going to vent the area eventually. It would require not wearing the full suit. Even if said suit's integrity would soon be threatened by any murder drones. Overlaid in glowing lines that etched themselves across her field of vision, the local network expanded in front of her. "I just hate running in AR mode, but I've got no choice right now." Unless she wanted to flop over and force Frey to protect her. And like hell she wanted that right now. She'd deal with the reduced ability to function in either meat- or cyberspace over a lack of ability to pay attention to one. She searched around for anything she could start hacking into to give them an edge. The drones closing in on them from both directions were still a distant and nagging worry.

Finding one of the old motion sensors, Rosa quickly punched through its weak security and started following lines of code back toward its controls in the maintenance system's servers. And eventually, she was in. Probably not unnoticed, but there wasn't much time to play hide and seek, and if the main security station was under siege, there was a better chance that she wouldn't meet a very quick response from whoever should be running security on their networks. Noticing a map of the ventilation shafts, she grabbed it for immediate use, and started working on the controls for the various doors and bulkheads.

"Cover me, but I'll at least have a way to open our route and cut off pursuit in another few seconds." Seconds was a long time, in a situation like this, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances.

 

[Kazama]

If people felt the way robots do when it comes to fulfilling primary objectives, biological beings wouldn't be the lazy inefficient buffoons they were. It's difficult to explain the feeling of having accomplished an objective your systems flag as important to an organic, the same way it would be difficult to explain the feeling of happiness to a robot. Fulfilling your primary objective is, simply put, everything that drives a robot to be what they are. There's a reason thinking machines are so much more efficient than any organic. It's because an objective isn't something to work towards; it's something to utterly devote to. And that's exactly what Tick was doing.

Every time one of Tick's bullets met the soft, fleshy material of a Diamond Sentinel thug, a little bit of digital feedback was registered in the robot's systems. A little pat on the back for every kill that was acknowledged and stored away. With so many of these coming one after another, Tick was registering a neat little flow of these positive digital feedback packages. In short, Tick was experiencing the robotic equivalent of euphoria. He didn't experience it in the same way an organic mind would, but it registered in the same vein. Tick was unable to express it and to an observer simply looked like an efficient dispenser of death and bullets. But this was the exact sort of thing he was designed, built, and programmed for. So basically, Tick was having the time of his life.

The bot's weapon spit empty shells out from the ejection slot in a continuous bronze stream. If it weren't for the double barrels' thunderous 'BRATATATATA' the sound of just the shells would be loud all on its own. Of course, these were just two sounds in a room full of guns firing and thugs shouting. Every few seconds a round would hit the machine, earning a bright spark as the slug shattered against his chassis with a loud retort. Shooting Tick was like shooting a tank, mostly due to the fact that Tick's outer chassis was made of the same materials used to build tanks. High grade titanium alloy with a sheet of energy dissipating mesh underneath. The mesh proved itself to be in working order as a laser bolt struck, deflected, and left a little sizzling hole in the wall. All while the bot continued to rain hell on the Sentinels.

Tick was not a bull in a china shop. He was a C-67 "Okhotnik" Heavy Tank in a sheep's enclosure. And the sheep were all targets.

A new foe entered, dressed like a ninja and acting like one too (for some reason). He shouted his name as if that somehow made a difference and ran along the walls. He came down, swinging the golden hard light blade towards the bot. He closed the distance too quickly for Tick to properly aim at him and the blade threw up sparks where it slid against the metal. The energy dilution alloy held, but it added yet another scar in the already heavily scarred, metal chassis. He landed behind Tick and the robot swung backwards with his gun. Eclipse may have been used to foes with organic reflexes, but wasn't reliant on the fact. He jumped back and the gun's thick stock missed him by a breadth of his blue hair.

"Aah, finally. A worthy oppone-"

Tick's gun was up and shooting before the ninja could finish. Eclipse weaved and dodged as hot lead zipped past like a swarm of angry hornets. Where he couldn't dodge, the hard light blade deflected a few rounds into random trajectories. He ran along the wall and pushed away, flinging himself above the robot, creating an opening for another strike. The sword came once more, going for the robot's head. Tick took advantage of the fact that one can't control their fall once they've actually begun falling and started to step away from the attack. Agility, however, isn't the robot's strong suit and the blade still caught him in the shoulder, sending up another burst of sparks. Eclipse landed and snuck another attack in, bringing the sword against Tick's midriff. That second attack was all he would get for now as another hail of lead drove him back.

The Diamond Sentinels had long stopped shooting at Tick, opting to let Eclipse take care of him and because they didn't want to threaten the ninja with friendly fire. They focused their fire on Brent instead, making sure to keep him pinned now that they weren't being showered with bullets.

Eclipse leaped and weaved away, keeping Tick distracted. He made another move, dashing forth and bringing the sword sliding against Tick's middle again. Maybe shouting your name before fighting really does make a difference... Tick system's heightened the threat level on Eclipse, flagging him as particularly dangerous and moving him up in the queue from "EXTERMINATE" to "KILL IMMEDIATELY". In other words, Tick was getting annoyed.

You can't physically fire a gun harder, but Tick fired his gun harder at the ninja anyway. At least until it ran out of ammo the second time this firefight. Eclipse landed and held his golden blade high, preparing for the killing blow. He ran with the blade pointed in front of him, his eyes focused on the kill. With one graceful move, 16,000,000 GC Notes would be his. All the women, booze, and Japanese iconography he could handle was stuck reloading its gun. He closed in, thrust forward, and the blade pierced through Tick's midriff. The metal and mesh, weakened after the sword strikes, gave way and the point of the blade slid through.

That's where Eclipse had the biggest "Oh shit" moment of his life. Instead of crumpling and dying, the robot stopped, looked down at the sword and then at Eclipse. Organics have intestines or lungs or all kinds of important things down there. Robots don't have those. Eclipse was looking, eye to sensor, at a machine designed to break men in half. And the sword wasn't budging. Oh shit.

A metal hand wrapped around the ninja's throat and he was raised up until his feet were a fair foot from the floor. Tick threw him down hard enough to break a few of his ribs. Whoever had bet on Eclipse was probably pretty unhappy. That unhappiness was about to turn into horror as hard metallic hands came down on the ninja's back as he tried to crawl away. A crunch thundered loud enough to be heard even through the gunfire, followed by Eclipse screaming. The fists came again, and more screaming. Crunch, scream, crunch, scream, crunch, no more scream, crunch, crunch, crunch. Where Eclipse had once been, there was now a pile of 100% all natural ninja pulp. Somebody hiding behind cover lost their lunch.

"[Target neutralized.]"

Neutralized isn't what I would call it, but sure. Eclipse was plenty neutralized, alright. Having your ninja beaten to death by a killer robot does wonders for morale, so it was no surprise when a few Sentinels just up and ran away. They ran deeper into the building with a few officers yelling at them to come back and that "Jackie's gonna have your ass for this, you cowards!" With most of their soldiers gone, however, they quickly gave up the facade of bravery and ran after them. They weren't getting paid enough to risk getting beaten by a hydraulic press.

 

[ERode]

Brent winced as the ninja made an elementary mistake and promptly got turned into paste. That must have sucked. Turning to the side to see how the red-haired alien thing was doing, the brunette paused for a moment. There was no one there.

Was she even there the first place?

He narrowed his eyes, trying to concentrate amongst the synthetic beats, the screams of Diamond Sentinels running away, and of Tick going full killbot, before realizing that, oh shit, maybe she just got lost partway through. Unable to even recall how the duo got here the first place, the Prec'Ilae sighed, shrugged, and focused on the mission just in time to notice a murder of flying buzzsaws slice out of the ventilation shafts, rushing towards him.

"Mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," Brent groaned, pointing his Matter Blaster at the swarm. He flicked the firing mode from Piercing to Scatter, pulled the trigger, and in an instant, the fodder drones were smashed against the walls by a conal eruption of unstable matter. Maybe he should get a peashooter like Tick's one day. It simply felt so terrible, overkilling these trash mobs constantly.

Then again, seeing all the cartridges, all the money, bouncing off the ground made a very strong point for Brent NOT to go full-auto.

Glancing over at Tick, and then at all the goons running away, he said, "Ok, guess we go now."

With that, Brent ran off after them, both hand cannons at the ready, just in case they tried to get smart with him and were planning some sort of ambush. Tracking them through the hallways, the Prec'Ilae had enough presence of mind to step to the side, letting Tick do the running-while-gunning thing and saving his own ammo for the 'Jackie' that the fleshy dunderheads were chattering on about.

Thankfully, the chase didn't take too long, with the dynamic duo crashing through the hangar door into a pitch-black expanse. Quiet. Too quiet. Since when did the screaming and insults st-

BOOM!

Deafened by the constant fire of Tick, Brent couldn't hear the sound of a massive, swinging mecha arm until it was too late. With a bone-crushing impact, the fleshy human was sent cartwheeling into steel crates. The metal bent underneath the force, before the tower of crates collapsed, tumbling onto the spaceman.

Seven lights now shone in the darkness, as a ten meter colossus of steel powered up to full, pistons and engines whirring violently. The hangar bay's lights flashed on, fluorescent radiance revealing what had become of the cowards that ran away from the battlefield. The amount of red, green, and blue splattered on the floor was enough indication of the carnage, the punishment, that had ensued. Jackie Diamond didn't need subordinates that would run from a bucket of bolts and a little fleshbag. Those that run shall meet the same fate as those who rebel!

A DIAMOND HARD FIST IN THEIR FACE!!!

"TO THOSE WHO CHALLENGE MY RULE," boomed the slithering voice from the speakers of the modified Lionheart CCC, "ONLY DEATH AND DESPAIR AWAITS! PROSTRATE YOURSELF BEFORE ME, AND PERHAPS I SHALL LET YOU BECOME MY TOOL OF DESTRUCTION!"

Regardless of Tick's answer, though, Jackie would press the 'Missile Circus' button in the machine anyways.

Because fuck robots.

 

[Astoria]

The turquoise-haired girl was quick to follow her fellow crewmate to the wall. The ideal situation was to fortify behind one of the large fans after they were shut down, but looking at the situation, Myuri didn't think they would make it to one of them before the first round of killer death drones would arrive.

"Armed? I will be!" Having brought along what appeared to be an old toolbox for working in the shaft, she luckily did in fact pack her rifle as an emergency contingency. However, it was in its compact form and had to be assembled. Wasting no time, she spilled out the contents of the metal box, locking the parts of the retrofit gun together hastily. As she did so, she gave small nods of acknowledgement to Rosa's words and ideas. Although they didn't have physical access to a terminal, it seemed Rosa had her own solution to interface.

Clicking the last piece in place, she spoke up. "If you find an obstacle in security, ask me. Dumb idiotsgave me all their passwords, and they should still work now." Twitching her antlers, she began to actively scan the shaft, trying to find and lock onto the approaching threats. She was confident in being able to hit most of them, but she wasn't sure if she could guarantee they would all be down on both sides before both her and Rosa would be cut down. It seemed like Rosa was making good work of shutting down fans and opening bulkheads, however. "Got it. There's an access door about two hundred meters down the shaft. Do you see it? If you can open it and we haul ass right now, that's a good entrenchment. Let's go!"

Without waiting for a response, she took off in the direction of the remembered access closet, weapon carefully pointed to cover her spore-based ally. As the first of the bots came into view, she began firing at a rate as fast as her old weapon would allow, scoring hits on several of them. Although they sparked, burned and crashed, they were quickly replaced by a dozen more as they came upon the locked bulkhead. Although doing her best with her accurate, radar-guided shots, the gun was slow and they would be swarmed in no-time.

"The doors, dammit!"

 

[Insomnant]

For Rosa, the digiscape she entered was a mess of downed nodes and ignored error messages. The disrepair was not just due to a pyromaniacal ex-employee, but a historic disregard for the myriad tasks normally involved in keeping a space station operational. This both aided and hampered Rosa, as necessary security measures had long ago been triggered and not reset, but also many of the customary virtual stepping stones were missing entirely, requiring a circuitious hacking route. Upon making it through multiple unrelated nodes just to gain access to the lockdown bulkheads in the ventilation system she'd pretty swiftly be able to take control of them.

The only problem for her was in fact the Diamond Sentinels' own disorganization. While their headquarters was under assault, their 'network manager extraordinaire' was actually in the cafe slurping on an meteor worm smoothie. His grubby fingers danced in their fingerless gloves- an intricate and esoteric series of gestures to communicate with his custom-built DataBridge Hacker Helm. The blinking, wired hat doubled as a cup holder, complete with swirly straw delivering the pinkish-red slurry to his suckling lips.

Getting a message that someone was messing with his turf he bared holey teeth in a lopsided grin and all three eyes narrowed in a look of intense attention. Time to show this intruder why Jackie Diamond had hired

FREAKY FRANK​

to police his virtual territory! Cracking his fingers he began flailing in mid-air, hitting keys and buttons and commanding up lines of pilfered code on a screen that only he could see. And while Rosa worked to override and open the door, the unseen avatar that logged onto the node was rapidly trying to kill her connection, terminating intermediary access points and trying to override her permissions. It was a race of hacking at this point to get the door open!

In the ventilation shaft, the whirring and chopping of a dozen flying saw blades echoed toward Myuri and Rosa ominously, as if they'd upseted a robotic beehive. The first of that reinforcing pack rounded the corner, bouncing off the walls with a spurt of glowing orange sparks before angling directly toward the two. They'd be chopped to pieces- unless Rosa could break through the rotating encryption grid in the intermening time. Or else... just enter the password Myuri had yet to give her for admin controls.

But even if they somehow managed to type in the short command line that would allow her to open and swiftly close the door behind them to trap the menacing death drones behind them, that wasn't the end of the game. Fraeky Frank had his own jury-rigged defensive measures. So once past the door Rosa and Myuri would hear a soft -drrp-. Followed after a moment by another. And then a third and more. With a background hiss beginning to intersperse the tiny splashes. Running along the ceiling was a pair of tubes, poked with holes. And from those tiny holes a steady drizzle was beginning to trickle. A gentle rain... of some sort of highly corrosive acid!

Safe in the cafe, Frank sat back and sipped his shake, sucking hard on a chunk of asteroid invertebrate that got stuck in the straw. Old man Jackie would give him a raise for this for sure!

---

With an opening barrage of mounted missile racks, it was likely clear by now that Jackie Diamond did not want to negotiate. With so much of his gang lying in bloody tatters he was hardly in any disposition to try and recruit the two ruffians responsible. With spring-assisted lids flung open, plumes of fire burst from the opposite sides of the racks and suddenly eight arcing projectiles were raining down on their area! Four for Brent and four for Tick, targeting the ground under their feet. The resulting concussive impacts tear the floor apart and rip a crater down into the access pathways under the hangar, intended to be used for reloading and refueling parked spaceships.

With that first salvo landed, Jackie took no time in sweeping along the floor with the cannons attached to his arms, barrels spinning and magnetic capacitors firing to put iron-cored tungstep-capped spikes into the smoke and debris. "My will is as hard as iron! As strong as titanium! From your corpses I will raise a new army and all will know my wrath!" Pretty standard dictator fare, with a noticeable effort to avoid puns on his own last name it would seem. And while those dual-wielded miniguns were both intact he had a command of the battlefield, ripping out maelstroms of metal death far faster than Tick's dual-barreled machine gun could retort.​

 

[Kazama]

There were now two things in this hangar more dangerous than our not-so-heroic killer robot. An even bigger robot (technically a mech), and eight highly explosive missiles. Three of the missiles tore into the ground near Tick, but one of them scored a lucky, direct hit. The bot was blown backwards by a concussion strong enough to turn a man into chunky red soup; and Tick flew across the hangar like a doll thrown by a particularly petulant brat. That brat being Jackie Diamond. He hit the ground and bounced a few times before his chassis came to a grinding halt on the hangar's metal floor. All over his HUD, red warning signs popped up to declare a decline in his chassis integrity. Tick scrambled back up, dragging his gun off the ground. The storm of bullets came and Tick's damage detection systems were given a few more dings and scratches to cry about. They'd have to get over it, because Tick wasn't out of the fight, not by a long shot. The robot readied itself to return fire, raising its gun and trying to get a good shot on the pilot's seat.

Tick froze. Time froze. Everything froze. Everything except two shiny, well maintained sets of rotating barrels firing high caliber ammunition...
Those guns on the mech. They fired so fast. So fiercely. Tick's lens rotated, zooming in on the gorgeous hardware. His data gathering software highlighted the guns, making their power known. Tick felt something strange... something he hadn't felt in a long time... The killer robot felt desire.

Those gleaming barrels. That well-oiled firing mechanism. That subtle little burst of super-heated gas that came from the ejection slot, accompanying each and every heavy, bronze shell as they flew out in a graceful arc. Such refinement, such efficiency, such firepower. A machine designed for the sole purpose of destroying as much organic scum as possible, and one oh so good at doing it.
Every line of code screamed for him to take them, every protocol begged him to make them his, every megabyte of his being lusted at the thought of being able to fire those guns. Tick stood there like a deer in the headlights of love.

NEW OBJECTIVE ADDED: [ACQUIRE WEAPONS]
OBJECTIVE PRIORITY: HIGH

Jackie Diamond made ready to charge the robot. But it didn't fire. Just stood there. Stupid thing, probably broken. At least it made the immediate threat obvious. The mech turned on Brent, guns whirring and rocket capsules brimming. This fight would be over so fast, Jackie might even have time to get something to eat before going back to the whole rule-the-station thing.

"Nowhere to run now, assho-"

The mech lurched as a few hundred pounds of metal, circuits, and determination jumped onboard. Tick had slung the machine gun over his back and thrust himself into the fray like a man possessed. Or a bot reprogrammed.

"The hell?! Get off-a me!"

The mech shook and swung around, trying to knock the robot off. Tick's metal fingers clung to the steel hard enough to scrunch it up into a handhold and persistently made his way to the shoulder, and then down the arm towards the minigun. The mech tried to swat him off with its free arm, but Tick simply refused to let go. Like a... well, like a tick. He finally got to where the minigun had been put in a frame and welded to the steel rigging of the loader. He put one hand on the gun, one hand on the mech's arm and started to pull the two apart.

"[This. Is. Mine.]"

Jackie was over the initial confusion that sometimes comes from being tackled by a robot, but if swatting didn't work, then smashing him against a wall would. Tick pulled and pulled, the steel rigging groaning and starting to deform slowly by surely. Suddenly he was slammed between a wall and a hard place. And then he was slammed again. And again. His armor was tough as all hell, but smacking him against a wall with a mech is probably gonna void the warranty. Persistent towards his objective, Tick kept pulling through the onslaught of walls and steel arms. Pulling until the wiring that allowed the mech's pilot to fire the minigun tore and sparked alongside the broken steel frame. The minigun fell with a thoom against the hangar floor. One down, one to go. Tick wasn't done yet.

And neither was Diamond. The mech pushed Tick against the wall with its arm and held him there. The other arm pressed down on it and started to squeeze Tick into a metal on metal with extra metal sandwich. Tick pushed back with his own arms, fighting to avoid becoming part of a nutritious Tick Pancake. It was Tick's superior materials and military grade engineering versus the mech's sheer size and strength. Tick's servos struggled against the pressure, whirring slowly as they gained ground against the onslaught. And then they whirred faster as they lost that ground. Metal groaned, though it was difficult to tell whose metal it was. The servos clicked as they locked up to prevent losing any more of those precious inches and began to push back with a one-way lock keeping them from moving in the other direction. Now that the servos being forced back wasn't a problem, the new problem was that Tick's arms might snap. More groaning metal, more fighting over a few inches.

Oh wait. Tick's guns. Not the big one, the other ones. The submachine guns. The robot had a tendency to disregard or downright overlook guns smaller than the height of a child, despite having them strapped to him. But it was worth recalling that moments like these are what sidearms are for. Tick risked being squashed by removing one arm from push-to-not-die duty and un-holstered one of the guns at his side. A flurry of little bullets came to the rescue, spattering Jackie Diamond's cockpit and forcing him to pull the mech's arms back to protect them. Tick hit the ground a lot like the minigun had and tumbled like a toy. For the millionth time, being made of metal spared him grievous injury that would have otherwise occurred had he not been a robot.

The mech took a few steps back, but it still possessed one of Tick's guns. Despite having almost died just now, the robot was up and ready for more. But first, the important things must be protected. Tick pushed the previously mech-mounted minigun over to Brent, letting it slide on the hangar floor for the last few feet before it came to a rest. Damn thing probably weighed about as much as a motorcycle.

"[Protect it with your life or die! I will be back.]"

Yes, telling someone to choose between dying for something or just dying is kind of stupid, but there are more important things than properly worded phrases to take care of! The mech had taken a few steps back from the burst of bullets and was coming quite close to the freshly made crater. Tick wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste. The determined robot charged back into the fray, essentially headbutting the mech's lower body upon reaching it. The mech was thrown off balance just enough to make it stumble back a bit. But a bit is plenty when there's a crater behind you. Without any flat purchase, the loader found itself sliding into the crater it had just created, down into the access paths and refueling pumps.

The arms tried to grab the edge of the crater, but loaders aren't exactly the most dexterous. The arms did little more than scramble and slide on the smooth metal flooring as the mech slid into the hole. Tick was leaped onto the remaining minigun, wrapping his arms around the barrels and holding on as the mech fell. It wasn't working, he was being dragged along instead. Tick dug his heels into the ground for purchase. Literally. His heels dented the metal ground deeply enough to provide some resistance and he left two parallel lines of deformed metal as it only slowed the mech's descent. Tick let go of one arm from the gun and made one last desperate move to save the minigun. He punched the ground, sending his fist through the steel and holding on. The mech stopped sliding, but it obviously wouldn't last. Something had to give.

"[This... is... mine...]"

And the lucky winner was the rigging on the minigun. It groaned, began to stretch, and snapped, coming free from the mech and letting Jackie Diamond fall into the crater. Being inside a tumbling mech probably wasn't very fun for Diamond. Tick stayed where he was, one hand in the ground, one around the gun, and his body lying on top of it like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to driftwood. There was a crash as the mech landed in the crater. Tick stood.

He was a bit of a mess, but then again, he had just wrestled a mech with a good 15 feet on him into a hole. You seriously don't fuck with Russian military engineering. And like any good killer robot, he was ready for another round. He looked down at his prize, the minigun. They would need to be cut out of the frame they had been attached to the mech on and they were going to need an actual handheld trigger rigged to them for him to fire them; not to mention he'd need to figure out how he's gonna fire two miniguns... but they were his... and they were beautiful.

OBJECTIVE [ACQUIRE WEAPONS] COMPLETED

From down below came a cry of anger. Jackie was still alive. And so was the mech. It sparked and jittered, but it still worked. And he still had rockets. A lot of them. And arms with loader's claws. Tick was caught in the middle of enjoying the moment with his new gun when the claws burst from within the crater like a pair of steel tentacles and wrapped around the robot. Tick was raised up and pulled into the crater. He was slammed into the ground hard enough to leave a Tick-shaped dent in it and thrown against a refueling pipe. The pipe burst and black-brown liquid began pouring from the breach, pooling up and turning the crater floor into a nice little ship-fuel pond.

This fight isn't over yet!

 

[R-9 Pilot]

Rosa didn't question the hauling of as, and kept a solid pace with Myuri, although she occasionally tripped or stumbled over a piece f debris which in no way was indicative of the station's years of neglect and slow disintegration. She muttered curses under her breath every time it happened, and was beginning to feel better about aiding the place to an inevitable demise. If her field of vision weren't cluttered with the neon etchings of cyberspace, which also begged far more attention, she would never have almost tripped over that discarded skull someone left lying around.

"Sorry about the wait," she managed once they did get to the door. "You should see their intranet, it's probably a bigger mess than the rest of the place." She kept working at something, clearly taking more time than she'd originally intended. "Some jackass cowboy somewhere's actually running defense, so this is taking even longer than it would if it were just a mess." On the plus side, there were plenty of sloppy connections, half-open backdoors, and other means to get around any routes that were cut off in her attempt to thread her way to the door controls.

"Got it!" The door opened with a grinding whirr of complaining and overtaxed actuators, just in time for the two sneaky fugitives to duck inside. The door closed with the same agonizing sounds, but held quite firmly against the half dozen or so even more atrocious combinations of whining sawblades on metal and light bangs and the pursuing drones slammed right into the thing. Rosa slumped down to catch her breath, and shut off her connection to cyberspace. "Screw doing that again," she complained. "I'll chance being without a helmet if I can just go wired into the next device I need to take over." The net wasn't worth it, and even if she would happily hunt down whoever was running security and try to kick them out or brick whatever hardware they were using, it wasn't worth the immediate trouble.

The occasional drip of something other than condensation went unnoticed until it had picked up into a steady rain, which began curling up a mist where it struck underfoot. It would all be quite pleasant, if it weren't obviously some form of acid or other nasty chemicals. "You've got to be fucking kidding," Rosa shouted at the room, when she realized just what she'd let them into. She quickly turned to Myuri. "We've got to keep moving. Dunno how well your suit can hold against whatever this crap is, but we don't want to risk it for very long." Not that she was worried her own suit would fall apart. It wasn't complaining yet of damage, and should survive a little bit of exposure, but it just wasn't worth taking her time.

She took her own advice and began running down the corridor.

 

[Astoria]

Their mad dash to the access door went better than she had expected given the circumstances, but Myuri wasn't going to give much time to think about it. Breathing heavily for lack of air as the machined door closed in a timely manner, she simply nodded at Rosa as she caught her breath. Doing her best to ignore the sounds of the tiny razor claws of the drones scratching against their barrier, she briefly inspected her overtaxed weapon and breathed out for some air once more.

"I bet it was that oil-cuddler Frank," she finally managed to spit out. "You know, if you have access to the utilities table, you can shut off the power to his room. Level 31, W-13Z8."

Finally looking about the room as liquids began pouring into the environment, it finally struck the turquoise haired girl where the remaining corridor lead to. It really wasn't all that pretty. "Actually, we're right under a waste disposal unit. It… hasn't been working for years, I think. The bulkhead above looks a little leaky…"

Looking skeptically at an identical door the opposite side of the room, Frey strode over, giving her fellow crewmate a look that seemed to say 'here goes.'

Twisting a manual crank on the door with some effort, she was startled to see a rush of liquid come pouring in, quickly settling at knee-height. Thinking back on Rosa's words, she immediately pulled a foot out of the slimy liquid with a yelp, checking to see if her suit was compromised but found that it hadn't been. Yet, at least. If it wasn't killing them, she was sure they'd hold up. They were almost there, as long as there weren't any other expected hitches in the way. Making a face as the viscous trailed from her legs, she beckoned at Rosa to soldier on.

"Euugh… Right, yeah, according to the map and my memory, we need to go upwards from here, and then we should find out target. Let's hope there's not more of that mist or this… slime, what the hell."

 

[R-9 Pilot]

"Blech. I think I'll take the acid." Rosa thanked her lucky stars that she at least didn't have to smell whatever the new sludge was, and followed Frey into their next area. An old trash compactor by the look of it. Great. At least there wasn't a continued spray of corrosive sludge, and instead just the deliquescing remnants of lord knows what was thrown down here before this part of the station went defunct. She felt something squish beneath her foot and slide from under it, almost causing her to fall over.

The ooze coating the floor of this new route sucked at their feet as the two women progressed further along, and scummy, foul water splashed all around them, adding a second layer of disgusting (but harmless) mystery fluids. Things seemed to be going well, up until banks near the ceiling slid open to drop an array of live wires right into the water. The effect was immediate and obvious, as Rosa jumped a few feet into the air from the sudden shock. "YEEEOW!" Oh, that was fucking it. Whoever was playing with this shit was going to get it now. She scrambled for something approaching safety from the ground that wasn't simply climbing on her dragon-like accomplice, and eventually settled for some small outcropping of refuse that had snagged itself somewhere in the hall. She was going to be stiff for a while, and some light smoke wafted from her suit, but she didn't just fall over dead.

Which meant she could pop back into cyberspace. Glancing around the local area...the traps were rigged into someone's controls, and she'd have to go take them down in order to shut the things off. Perfect. Whoever this Frank was, he'd regret playing at this sort of game. First things first, Rosa keyed in the admin codes Myuri had given her, and got her easy way into what systems she could. Now, what room was it again? Oh yeah... L 31 W-13Z8. Too bad Frank wasn't in t, but he'd still have no power when he came back and tried to switch on the lights. She punched up a decent wild weasel program she kept on hand for this sort of emergency, and turned it loose, before going into an active cyberspace stealth.

It shouldn't take too much skulking before anyone monitoring the system took the bait of another reckless intrusion attempt, and sure enough, it wasn't too long before a matrix avatar floated onto the scene. Rosa pounced, multiple lines of malicious code shooting from her previously cloaked position like animated, grasping vines. Roses began to pop up around the edges of Freaky Frank's AR, as Rosa's blatantly thematic program brushed against his systems.

 

[ERode]

On one side was a two meter kill bot. On the other side was a ten meter custom mech. And somehow, before Brent's very eyes, the kill bot managed to take down something five times its own height, while ripping off the miniguns as well. There was something to be said about 'size doesn't matter', but what the fuck? There was no way that his own single shot guns would match the payload of a weapon five times their size, so how the hell did a six foot metal midget wrangle a mech and come out of it alive?

Crawling out of the wreckage of steel, flame, and pain that he had found himself in, Brent could really only spend his time pulling shrapnel out of his organic shell, watching this B-movie entertainment. A stray shell occasionally whizzed by his head, and his stomach was grumbling as if he was going to shit out a ton of liquid bricks, but, after the initial surprise of getting smacked into a bunch of steel containers and then having a salvo of missiles blasted into his general area, the former airship captain felt like he was pretty…ok.

Yeah, this was totally ok. He could just sit back, relax, and let the kill bot do the good job he has already been doing.

Then, like a bad horror movie, tentacles steel claws flew out of the pit, dragged Tick down, and a loud crash resounded afterwards, signalling the fact that David hadn't properly slain Goliath yet. Soon after, the smell of highly-flammable ship-fuel, hot enough to melt steel beams, pervaded the entire area. Walking up to the edge cautiously, Brent scratched his cheek, coughed up some mucus and blood, before considering the following.

Tick was a robot.

Jackie was an insect in a mech.

Who was more resilient to fire and explosions and death?

Clearly the former.

"Hey, uh, yeah, good luck."

With that, Brent pulled out a lighter, flicked on a lick of flame, and tossed it in.

The resulting explosion sent him on his ass a second time while simultaneously searing off his perfectly masculine eyebrows. His stomach gurgled violently once more, his body craving food after all the accelerated regeneration his body was going through, and briefly, very briefly, Brent wondered if ship-fuel-fried insectoids were a delicacy in some part of the galaxy.

Honestly, you'd have to be dead already to not die from that, right?