Showcase wall mounted glass display cabinet
What are the different types of celling light in interior design?
2023.04.01 09:23 Diyinteriorplanning What are the different types of celling light in interior design?
 | submitted by Diyinteriorplanning to u/Diyinteriorplanning [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/fvpc0m7l58ra1.jpg?width=600&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e0edfd475d6e469e7b7667949f9b0a146c846143 Ceiling lights are an integral part of interior design, and they play a vital role in enhancing the overall aesthetic appeal of any space. Not only do they serve the practical purpose of illuminating a room, but they also provide an opportunity to showcase the unique design of the light fixtures themselves. There are various types of ceiling lights, and each of them has a distinct function and effect on the ambiance of a room. In this article, we will discuss the Different types of ceiling lights used in interior design and their featuresChandeliersA chandelier is a decorative lighting fixture that hangs from the ceiling and typically features multiple arms, branches, or tiers. Chandeliers come in various styles, sizes, and materials, and they are often associated with elegance and luxury. They are commonly used in dining rooms, living rooms, and entryways. Chandeliers can be made of crystal, glass, metal, or other materials, and they can have shades or be open bulb fixtures.Pendant LightsPendant lights are another popular type of ceiling light that hangs from a cord or chain. They are single light fixtures that come in various shapes and sizes, from small mini pendants to large chandeliers. Pendant lights can be used in a variety of spaces, including kitchens, dining rooms, and bedrooms. They are versatile and can be hung at different heights, making them ideal for creating ambient or task lighting.Flush Mount LightsFlush mount lights, also known as surface-mounted lights, are fixtures that are attached directly to the ceiling without any visible gap between the fixture and the ceiling. Flush mount lights are ideal for rooms with low ceiling designs, and they come in various styles and finishes to match any decor. They are commonly used in hallways, bedrooms, and closets.Semi-Flush Mount LightsSemi-flush mount lights are similar to flush mount lights, but they have a small gap between the fixture and the ceiling. They are often used in spaces with higher ceilings and provide more light than flush mount lights. Semi-flush mount lights come in a variety of styles, from modern to traditional, and they are ideal for hallways, foyers, and living rooms.Recessed LightsRecessed lights, also known as can lights or pot lights, are fixtures that are installed into the ceiling, creating a clean and streamlined look. Recessed lights are ideal for providing ambient lighting, and they can also be used for task lighting when placed strategically. They come in various sizes and finishes and are commonly used in kitchens, bathrooms, and living rooms.Track LightsTrack lights are a type of ceiling light that features a track with multiple light fixtures attached to it. The track can be adjusted to direct light where it's needed, making them ideal for task lighting. Track lights are commonly used in kitchens, living rooms, and art galleries. They come in various styles and finishes, and they are easy to install and maintain.Cove LightsCove lights are a type of indirect lighting that is installed in a recessed ledge or ceiling alcove. They create a soft, diffused light that illuminates a space without creating harsh shadows. Cove lights are ideal for creating ambient lighting and enhancing the overall ambiance of a room. They are commonly used in bedrooms, living rooms, and dining rooms.Conclusion Ceiling lights play a crucial role in interior design, and there are various types of ceiling lights to choose from, depending on the function and ambiance that you want to create. Chandeliers are ideal for creating a luxurious and elegant ambiance, while pendant lights are versatile and can be used for ambient or task lighting. Also Read: What is the best way to interior design a bedroom? Good Luck! |
2023.04.01 09:20 Lem0n_Lord Displacement - Azur Lane
I decided to go through with it, and finished my first chapter. I've posted it on AO3 'n stuff, figured I'd put it here anyway. I also wanna preface the chapter by briefly saying what it's about to avoid (some) confusion.
"Displacement" is a line of self-insert fanfics I'm writing where a random person get's "Displaced" into the universe of the series it's based on. There's no lore to the teleporting, but the teleporting does happen more than once, and it happens at often crucial times to put the character into a new scenario.
Any text with italics without " " will be the thoughts of the MC, which I'll constantly just be referring to as "you". I really should start writing in 3rd person, but right now I'm stuck in a horrible loop where I keep writing in a mix.
I preface each chapter by putting lyrics from the song it's named after, which are emboldened and put in italics.
Chapter 1 - Dead On Arrival
As dawn arrives, we still survive.
Nobody knows what's goin' on, Tearin' my town limb by limb.
Where are your mom and dad..?
Was it shocking for you?
Somethin is scaring you?
Enemies will hunt you, no matter what you do!
But we'll fight for you, to defeat them all.
If not, there's no way out.
What in the hell just happened?
You'd landed on your hands, which ached immensely from the poor angle you somehow fell from. In absolute confusion, you flipped onto your back and used your elbows as supports to lean on, looking upwards.
Above you was but a regular ceiling with lights, nothing out of the ordinary. It seems you had fallen through the ground by some contrivance and into an archaic office of sorts.
There was a total lack of memory from anything that had transpired both leading up to the events that had just occurred, and even some memories predating that.
Such simple things such as your name were somehow eluding you. Questions of who you were rebounded in your head over and over like an echo-chamber filled with nothing.
As your thoughts spiraled, you had a splitting headache. A pained groan escaped your lips as you stood up in defiance. You looked around the room, trying to assess your situation the best you could.
Multiple red banners fit with black Iron Crosses decorated the walls.
An underlying sense of dread built up as you continued exploring the room in search for answers. You approached curtains behind the desk, they seemed relatively well cleaned. With a gentle tug, you pulled them back.
Lying beyond the curtains was a view you thought you'd never see.
Just where in the hell am I?
Looking down from the window, you could see huge warships docked at a port. Some people down below, the size of pinpricks, were walking along the concrete ground. More crimson banners littered the streets away from the docks.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..." You whispered to yourself, backing away from the glass.
In an attempt to find out where you were, you flew open the desk drawers. Paper flew like confetti as you looked for answers.
A date eventually stood out to you.
"1-1941?!" You said out loud, dumbfounded.
You continued sifting through the pages in denial, finding the very same date over and over again. After a while, you were surrounded by a sea of white sheets each imprinted with evidence of the impossible.
The drawers all lay empty with nothing more to prove.
You looked towards the multiple banners in the room and silently cursed.
Where the fuck am I? In the Führer's office?
Two doors were present in the room. One opposite the desk, and another to your right.
Testing your luck, you opened the one opposite where you currently were.
It was in the middle of a clean carpeted hallway. The walls were an ivory white, while the carpet was a bleeding vibrant red. Even more banners littered the walls.
This was no time to just start wandering around the Reichstag.
Well... Did Hitler live in the Reichstag? Was this the equivalent? The Reichstag was never built so close to the sea, let alone having a view right over a German port...
A figure turned the corner from down the hall, which you quickly noticed. After silently closing the door, you quietly opened the 2nd.
It was a relatively well kept bedroom with an unidentified blonde woman sleeping on the bed. On the bed-side table was an officers cap fitted with a rising golden eagle alongside a red and white band.
A window view facing the sea was left open; letting in a cooling breeze drift into the room.
An idea struck your mind.
If I'm were going to escape this place alive, I'm gonna need some kind of disguise. Atleast, something other than a T-shirt and shorts.
You could only imagine what they'd do to you if they'd found some random person in what you thought was the Führer's quarters.
As silently as was humanly possible, you crept up to the wardrobe.
You thought "What woman was high-ranking during World War 2? ".
Perhaps the woman sleeping was Hitlers wife or something?
The closet responded to your touch with a high pitched squeak. Despite it being an inanimate object, you motioned for it to shut up with your hand. Your head spun around to see if the woman had woken up.
She did not.
With a silent thank you to god, you looked inside for some kind of uniform. What you instead found was... Womens' apparel?
You reached further in and looked deeper. There was no men's uniforms, which was quite surprising. Further scanning the wardrobe, you came across what appeared to be her undergarments.
You would've slammed the door shut, but the sound of the woman behind you snoring left a constant reminder that there was a SLIGHT element of danger.
Instead of risking it making another creaking sound, you left it open and left the room with a blush. You dove back into the marked papers and read them more thoroughly. Mentions of... Ship girls? Wisdom cubes?
No, no, no, that can't be right.
Standing back up, you struggled to formulate any kind of plan.
If you were going to survive, you'd need a weapon. Surely you could kill one with a surprise attack, then take his gun, and perhaps find a way out of here.
...
The closest thing resembling a weapon was a pen on the table.
Yep, that's fine, I'll just John Wick them...
You huffed and sat down on the more throne-like chair. It was quite comfortable, but it didn't spin like an office chair. It'd be 35 years before office chairs would be invented unfortunately.
The pen wasn't a ballpoint such as the ones you were used to; instead it was a dip pen. A half empty inkwell laid next to it. Out of boredom, you opened it. The smell of ink wafted out of the glass container.
Didn't they have fountain pens by now? Weird.
Your eyes were drawn to a map on the wall to the right of you. It depicted a slightly distorted version of the world you once called home. If you were uneducated, it wouldn't be unfeasible to identify it as the real thing. Perhaps even interchangeable should you be intoxicated enough, there were only slight discrepancies which broke the illusion.
You shook your head in disbelief. Either you were truly out of your depth or what you thought were the Nazi's were just pitifully incompetent.
At that point, it felt like you were in one of those TV pranks. You started probing the room for cameras or hidden microphones. With one glance at the open doorway, you immediate ignored it and continued the search elsewhere.
With a sigh, you surveyed the room one last time while leaning in a corner.
This couldn't be some sort of prank or something. Nobody would spend all of this money just to get a reaction from someone.
Your eyes traced the boundaries of the window.
Especially with all of those battleships and the like. God, the steel alone would cost millions...
The door leading to the bedroom slammed shut due to the wind from the open window.
You snapped your neck around to look at it, terror and trepidation coiled around your soul like a knot. Well... Now that's just great, isn't it?
The noise was so loud, you unconsciously held your ears in reaction to it.
You ran towards the window behind the desk and tried to get it open. There was no handle or any sort of way to open the window unfortunately.
Panic rushed through your body as you heard rapid footsteps approaching from the hallway on the other side of the wall. Grabbing the pen, you dashed over to get yourself in a good position to stab whoever was going to enter.
By the time I kill the first guard, I'll easily be able to deal with the girl in the other room. Shouldn't be too difficult as long as I land this blow.
Eventually, a figure opened the doors.
"Bisma-"
The pen somehow deflected off of her head, even though you used all of your strength.
"Eh? "
A dumbfounded look was imprinted onto your face, and she returned the expression.
Both of you stared at each other awkwardly, both of your minds were trying to assess the situation. She had a skirt that was a mixture of a brilliant red and foggy grey. Despite the look on her face, she had quite an imposing stature. Alongside her flat chest were golden buttons fitted to the exterior; 8 in total.
The pen tip was completely bent and disfigured, unlike the persons face you'd just attempted stabbing. There wasn't a single scratch or mark from your inept strike.
You crept around the stunned girl and into the hall, almost tripping on your own feet. As you backed up, she turned around and apprehensively pointed at you.
"You! What do you think you're do-" She was interrupted by the door to the bedroom being burst open.
"That man! Hipper! Detain him at once!" A tall half-dressed blonde ordered from the doorway.
You started backing away, you knew you had to run but it almost felt like you'd forgotten how to.
The inimical woman in front of you was poised to lunge at you, but her eyes gazed at something beyond you. Eventually you had backed up into something warm.
With a gulp, you slowly turned around.
You were face to face with, yet, another female.
Why were they all women? It's only 1941, surely they're not being pushed on all fronts?
An Iron Cross adorned her neck along with two more embroidered onto the wrist section of her clothing. Instead of blonde, her hair was a chalky white that was tied up in twin tails. Something else you noticed is that they all had thigh-highs on.
"Eugen, I order you to capture that spy!"
"Whatever you say, sis~" Eugen replied with a teasing grin.
"This is a huge misunderstanding! If you'll just let me-" You squealed shortly before being picked up by your shoulders. Her strength was extremely surprising to say the least. You attempted to maneuver yourself out of her grasp, but had no such luck.
Eugen effortlessly tossed you like a speeding missile down the hall and through a door labeled "Canteen".
"Why did you- EUGH! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!" A irked Hipper scolded before giving chase.
"Oops~ " Eugen giggled with content, following with a gait of elegance.
The blonde put on her cap, and finished getting dressed before rushing in the opposite direction.
...
You'd just breached the doors of the cafeteria, landing on your shoulder and tumbling into the floorboards. You released a loud groan of agony as you made a clumsy uncoordinated attempt of rising to your feet.
Your mind was briefly rendered into tomato soup for a good few seconds before you regained your bearings.
How the hell did she just whizz me around like that? And how did that other girl just completely ignore my strike? What in the name of Christ is going on here..?
As you finally stood on two feet, one of your hands instinctively reached for your shoulder. It really felt like you broke something, but you knew that if you really had broken something, you'd probably be on the floor crying.
"Who is that?"
Your eyes widened as you realized you were in a room full of women draped in all kinds of modified Kriegsmarine uniforms. Some of them forewent their uniforms entirely, wearing skimpy, very revealing clothing for god knows why.
They were of all shapes and sizes. Though, putting it like that makes it sound like they're abnormal godless creatures.
It wasn't too far from the truth, some of them had what seemed to be horns. A good number of them also looked like children.
You struggled to get some words out in a very poor attempt of deception.
"I-I, uh... Für den Kaiser? " You stuttered in a horrible German accent. Everyone was silent. "No? Too early? Damn..."
A feminine voice crackled in from the P.A system, a ringing alarm repeatedly blared.
"Intruder alert! Spy in the base! Prevent him from leaving at all costs!"
Chatter erupted all over the room.
"There's a spy in the base?" Someone repeated.
Only fragments of conversations were intelligible from the mess of different voices and German. The talking slowly died down until the room was in absolute silence. Every single one of them were staring at you.
Your eyes went from face to face, they were innumerable.
You immediately turned you back on them and began your great escape.
It started with a thundering of rushing and mangled cries of "Get him!" and other variations of apprehensive phrases. Multiple lunch trays clattered to the floor. The flat blonde you'd met before burst through the doors, using her arms in an X fashion as a brace.
Hipper didn't see you slip out of her way and slink back into the hallway before continuing into a sprint.
"W-where did he go?" She sputtered in a blunder. Her breath was raggedy and frequent.
They all pointed behind her, some of them started running towards her which prompted an annoyed groan from Hipper, who began to give chase to the human.
...
A look of steely determination was imprinted onto your face as you ran with all of your might. Crimson banners, vanilla wallpaper, and the wall-lamps all whizzed by in a amalgamated blur.
You looked behind you to see how much a lead you had.
They were gaining, Hipper was still leading the charge. In a panic, you hurriedly chose a random door flying by.
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo!
You braced and charged through the wooden pair of doors. What you saw in that room was interesting to say the least.
Yet another woman was sitting on some sort of throne. The masonry itself was crumbled at the edges, armrests draped in light amethyst hair.
The woman herself was crossing her legs with her hands joined in her lap. Behind her was a large cathedral-like window showering the room with light, unveiling the darkness. Unlit wax candles ran along the walls with two golden chandeliers hanging above.
She cocked her head slightly to the right, intrigued by your form. Her presence alone sent chills up your spine. Something about her gave off an incredibly ominous vibe.
As you stood there, stunned, the girls behind you had finally caught up. But instead of entering the room and apprehending you with shouts and whatnot, they were quietly gossiping behind closed doors.
"... Think he'll come out alive?"
"August is scary!"
"Quiet, morons!" Hipper hushed them with a quick strike to their foreheads. Muffled whimpers of pain came from the other side of the wall while the figure in front of you stared you down.
There was a profuse silence that was eventually broken by the woman speaking to you.
"It seems you're this Spy. "
She spoke with an air of sophistication and superiority. More silence followed before being broken up yet again. with a sigh she stood up, albeit slowly.
"I must admit, you caught me off guard. "
You watched in a combination of wonder and horror as a mass of azure cubes passed through the floor and walls, amassing themselves into a metal dragon. Instead of wings, it had half of a deck of an aircraft carrier on each wing.
"Your bravery is worthy of admiration, although whether it is folly or valor..." The dragon took a thunderous step towards you, turrets on the deck seemed to be locked onto your head. "I shall decide."
Each of the steps towards you made you flinch.
"You... Want me... To fight... That?" You said while backing up against the door. "What in the name of Christ..? "
What kind of world was this? A world where dragons just... Exist? A world where someone can just pick you up and hurl you without any effort?
This was but another wake-up call to where you had been thrown into.
"Will you falter in the face of such trials?" She ignored your very obvious indirect plea for mercy.
Your hands wrapped around the knob of the door and turned it violently. The door did not open. In a desperate escape attempt, you rammed your shoulder into it repeatedly to no avail.
Seeing how it wasn't working, you backed up towards the dragon and prepared to ram the door down one last time with all of your might.
"Have you given up already?" The woman sneered, a hint of disappointment rang in her voice.
You ran at the door and made one poor excuse of a dropkick while closing your eyes.
...
It felt... Warm. Your body impacted the ground without ever hitting anything with your feet.
For the second time that day, you were dropped onto the floor. Hard.
You let out an exasperated gasp after opening your eyes. Sunlight hit your body from above, no longer held back by a structure.
You were now in a street, occasionally people would pass by. Some looked on with concern, but without the courage to assist. Wooden buildings lined the busy streets, the archaic stone pathway was littered with the tapping of footsteps.
It was just like when you had first arrived here. Though this time, you remembered.
With a silent thank you to whatever deity might've saved you, you stood up with a grin.
Elsewhere...
"Where did he go?!"
"I'm afraid that's not something I know."
"B-but... How?! He can't just vanish! Unless..."
Hipper scratched her chin, her right eye twitching in increasing frustration.
"He must be a submarine! He might have some... Some sort of camouflage! Yes, that must be it!" She whipped around to the crowd of startled onlookers. "Scour the base! I want no stone unturned! Every cabinet, wardrobe and desk!"
Most of the ships saluted with a coordinated "Jawohl!" before dispersing in different directions. Some merely nodded in a sultry state, upset that their lunch had been ruined.
The ones remaining infront of her were none other than Bismarck and Prinz Eugen.
"I just got my rigging on too! Damn him!" Admiral Hipper raised her shaking fist to the sky in rage.
"I'm sure you'll get him next time~" Eugen jokingly assured Hipper, slinging her arm around her sisters neck.
Already teetering on the edge of rage, she had an outburst.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT ANYWAY!" She flew Eugens arm off her shoulder. "I-if you didn't toss him like you did, we could've easily-"
"Eugen, don't go overboard on your games. What is done is done, though do expect to hear from me in the coming days."
Eugen let out a "Hmpf. " and walked away.
Bismarck approached Hipper with a serious gaze. She immediately got the message and composed herself, straightening her posture.
"I believe you were closest to him. Can you describe his face? Eye color, or anything of the sort?"
Admiral Hipper profusely nodded.
"Good."
And that ends the first chapter. As you can probably tell, I'm a novice writer, and most of you are probably twice my age. (Surprisingly, most of you seem to be above the age of 20.) I'm also very new to the fandom, and am looking to improve my writing of dialogue and vast amount of personalities (most of which are tropes), and I'm quite afraid I wrote August/Eugen wrong.
I also have a few questions for any hard-core Azur Lane fans that I'd appreciate if you could answer:
1: Is the German language just called "Ironblood"? Is Japanese called "Sakura" or something? 2: Does the game or anime happen first? Or, are they in separate timelines? I haven't seen Crosswave myself, so I don't know. I was going to follow the events of the anime, then maybe into the game, then into Slow Ahead.
3: (most important one) Are men just... Really rare? Is there a reason why all the ships are females, or why we never see any men, anywhere?
If you've somehow read all of this, thank you, I appreciate people reading my work. Cheers from Australia.
submitted by Lem0n_Lord to AzureLane [link] [comments]
"Displacement" is a line of self-insert fanfics I'm writing where a random person get's "Displaced" into the universe of the series it's based on. There's no lore to the teleporting, but the teleporting does happen more than once, and it happens at often crucial times to put the character into a new scenario.
Any text with italics without " " will be the thoughts of the MC, which I'll constantly just be referring to as "you". I really should start writing in 3rd person, but right now I'm stuck in a horrible loop where I keep writing in a mix.
I preface each chapter by putting lyrics from the song it's named after, which are emboldened and put in italics.
Chapter 1 - Dead On Arrival
As dawn arrives, we still survive.
Nobody knows what's goin' on, Tearin' my town limb by limb.
Where are your mom and dad..?
Was it shocking for you?
Somethin is scaring you?
Enemies will hunt you, no matter what you do!
But we'll fight for you, to defeat them all.
If not, there's no way out.
What in the hell just happened?
You'd landed on your hands, which ached immensely from the poor angle you somehow fell from. In absolute confusion, you flipped onto your back and used your elbows as supports to lean on, looking upwards.
Above you was but a regular ceiling with lights, nothing out of the ordinary. It seems you had fallen through the ground by some contrivance and into an archaic office of sorts.
There was a total lack of memory from anything that had transpired both leading up to the events that had just occurred, and even some memories predating that.
Such simple things such as your name were somehow eluding you. Questions of who you were rebounded in your head over and over like an echo-chamber filled with nothing.
As your thoughts spiraled, you had a splitting headache. A pained groan escaped your lips as you stood up in defiance. You looked around the room, trying to assess your situation the best you could.
Multiple red banners fit with black Iron Crosses decorated the walls.
An underlying sense of dread built up as you continued exploring the room in search for answers. You approached curtains behind the desk, they seemed relatively well cleaned. With a gentle tug, you pulled them back.
Lying beyond the curtains was a view you thought you'd never see.
Just where in the hell am I?
Looking down from the window, you could see huge warships docked at a port. Some people down below, the size of pinpricks, were walking along the concrete ground. More crimson banners littered the streets away from the docks.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..." You whispered to yourself, backing away from the glass.
In an attempt to find out where you were, you flew open the desk drawers. Paper flew like confetti as you looked for answers.
A date eventually stood out to you.
"1-1941?!" You said out loud, dumbfounded.
You continued sifting through the pages in denial, finding the very same date over and over again. After a while, you were surrounded by a sea of white sheets each imprinted with evidence of the impossible.
The drawers all lay empty with nothing more to prove.
You looked towards the multiple banners in the room and silently cursed.
Where the fuck am I? In the Führer's office?
Two doors were present in the room. One opposite the desk, and another to your right.
Testing your luck, you opened the one opposite where you currently were.
It was in the middle of a clean carpeted hallway. The walls were an ivory white, while the carpet was a bleeding vibrant red. Even more banners littered the walls.
This was no time to just start wandering around the Reichstag.
Well... Did Hitler live in the Reichstag? Was this the equivalent? The Reichstag was never built so close to the sea, let alone having a view right over a German port...
A figure turned the corner from down the hall, which you quickly noticed. After silently closing the door, you quietly opened the 2nd.
It was a relatively well kept bedroom with an unidentified blonde woman sleeping on the bed. On the bed-side table was an officers cap fitted with a rising golden eagle alongside a red and white band.
A window view facing the sea was left open; letting in a cooling breeze drift into the room.
An idea struck your mind.
If I'm were going to escape this place alive, I'm gonna need some kind of disguise. Atleast, something other than a T-shirt and shorts.
You could only imagine what they'd do to you if they'd found some random person in what you thought was the Führer's quarters.
As silently as was humanly possible, you crept up to the wardrobe.
You thought "What woman was high-ranking during World War 2? ".
Perhaps the woman sleeping was Hitlers wife or something?
The closet responded to your touch with a high pitched squeak. Despite it being an inanimate object, you motioned for it to shut up with your hand. Your head spun around to see if the woman had woken up.
She did not.
With a silent thank you to god, you looked inside for some kind of uniform. What you instead found was... Womens' apparel?
You reached further in and looked deeper. There was no men's uniforms, which was quite surprising. Further scanning the wardrobe, you came across what appeared to be her undergarments.
You would've slammed the door shut, but the sound of the woman behind you snoring left a constant reminder that there was a SLIGHT element of danger.
Instead of risking it making another creaking sound, you left it open and left the room with a blush. You dove back into the marked papers and read them more thoroughly. Mentions of... Ship girls? Wisdom cubes?
No, no, no, that can't be right.
Standing back up, you struggled to formulate any kind of plan.
If you were going to survive, you'd need a weapon. Surely you could kill one with a surprise attack, then take his gun, and perhaps find a way out of here.
...
The closest thing resembling a weapon was a pen on the table.
Yep, that's fine, I'll just John Wick them...
You huffed and sat down on the more throne-like chair. It was quite comfortable, but it didn't spin like an office chair. It'd be 35 years before office chairs would be invented unfortunately.
The pen wasn't a ballpoint such as the ones you were used to; instead it was a dip pen. A half empty inkwell laid next to it. Out of boredom, you opened it. The smell of ink wafted out of the glass container.
Didn't they have fountain pens by now? Weird.
Your eyes were drawn to a map on the wall to the right of you. It depicted a slightly distorted version of the world you once called home. If you were uneducated, it wouldn't be unfeasible to identify it as the real thing. Perhaps even interchangeable should you be intoxicated enough, there were only slight discrepancies which broke the illusion.
You shook your head in disbelief. Either you were truly out of your depth or what you thought were the Nazi's were just pitifully incompetent.
At that point, it felt like you were in one of those TV pranks. You started probing the room for cameras or hidden microphones. With one glance at the open doorway, you immediate ignored it and continued the search elsewhere.
With a sigh, you surveyed the room one last time while leaning in a corner.
This couldn't be some sort of prank or something. Nobody would spend all of this money just to get a reaction from someone.
Your eyes traced the boundaries of the window.
Especially with all of those battleships and the like. God, the steel alone would cost millions...
The door leading to the bedroom slammed shut due to the wind from the open window.
You snapped your neck around to look at it, terror and trepidation coiled around your soul like a knot. Well... Now that's just great, isn't it?
The noise was so loud, you unconsciously held your ears in reaction to it.
You ran towards the window behind the desk and tried to get it open. There was no handle or any sort of way to open the window unfortunately.
Panic rushed through your body as you heard rapid footsteps approaching from the hallway on the other side of the wall. Grabbing the pen, you dashed over to get yourself in a good position to stab whoever was going to enter.
By the time I kill the first guard, I'll easily be able to deal with the girl in the other room. Shouldn't be too difficult as long as I land this blow.
Eventually, a figure opened the doors.
"Bisma-"
The pen somehow deflected off of her head, even though you used all of your strength.
"Eh? "
A dumbfounded look was imprinted onto your face, and she returned the expression.
Both of you stared at each other awkwardly, both of your minds were trying to assess the situation. She had a skirt that was a mixture of a brilliant red and foggy grey. Despite the look on her face, she had quite an imposing stature. Alongside her flat chest were golden buttons fitted to the exterior; 8 in total.
The pen tip was completely bent and disfigured, unlike the persons face you'd just attempted stabbing. There wasn't a single scratch or mark from your inept strike.
You crept around the stunned girl and into the hall, almost tripping on your own feet. As you backed up, she turned around and apprehensively pointed at you.
"You! What do you think you're do-" She was interrupted by the door to the bedroom being burst open.
"That man! Hipper! Detain him at once!" A tall half-dressed blonde ordered from the doorway.
You started backing away, you knew you had to run but it almost felt like you'd forgotten how to.
The inimical woman in front of you was poised to lunge at you, but her eyes gazed at something beyond you. Eventually you had backed up into something warm.
With a gulp, you slowly turned around.
You were face to face with, yet, another female.
Why were they all women? It's only 1941, surely they're not being pushed on all fronts?
An Iron Cross adorned her neck along with two more embroidered onto the wrist section of her clothing. Instead of blonde, her hair was a chalky white that was tied up in twin tails. Something else you noticed is that they all had thigh-highs on.
"Eugen, I order you to capture that spy!"
"Whatever you say, sis~" Eugen replied with a teasing grin.
"This is a huge misunderstanding! If you'll just let me-" You squealed shortly before being picked up by your shoulders. Her strength was extremely surprising to say the least. You attempted to maneuver yourself out of her grasp, but had no such luck.
Eugen effortlessly tossed you like a speeding missile down the hall and through a door labeled "Canteen".
"Why did you- EUGH! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!" A irked Hipper scolded before giving chase.
"Oops~ " Eugen giggled with content, following with a gait of elegance.
The blonde put on her cap, and finished getting dressed before rushing in the opposite direction.
...
You'd just breached the doors of the cafeteria, landing on your shoulder and tumbling into the floorboards. You released a loud groan of agony as you made a clumsy uncoordinated attempt of rising to your feet.
Your mind was briefly rendered into tomato soup for a good few seconds before you regained your bearings.
How the hell did she just whizz me around like that? And how did that other girl just completely ignore my strike? What in the name of Christ is going on here..?
As you finally stood on two feet, one of your hands instinctively reached for your shoulder. It really felt like you broke something, but you knew that if you really had broken something, you'd probably be on the floor crying.
"Who is that?"
Your eyes widened as you realized you were in a room full of women draped in all kinds of modified Kriegsmarine uniforms. Some of them forewent their uniforms entirely, wearing skimpy, very revealing clothing for god knows why.
They were of all shapes and sizes. Though, putting it like that makes it sound like they're abnormal godless creatures.
It wasn't too far from the truth, some of them had what seemed to be horns. A good number of them also looked like children.
You struggled to get some words out in a very poor attempt of deception.
"I-I, uh... Für den Kaiser? " You stuttered in a horrible German accent. Everyone was silent. "No? Too early? Damn..."
A feminine voice crackled in from the P.A system, a ringing alarm repeatedly blared.
"Intruder alert! Spy in the base! Prevent him from leaving at all costs!"
Chatter erupted all over the room.
"There's a spy in the base?" Someone repeated.
Only fragments of conversations were intelligible from the mess of different voices and German. The talking slowly died down until the room was in absolute silence. Every single one of them were staring at you.
Your eyes went from face to face, they were innumerable.
You immediately turned you back on them and began your great escape.
It started with a thundering of rushing and mangled cries of "Get him!" and other variations of apprehensive phrases. Multiple lunch trays clattered to the floor. The flat blonde you'd met before burst through the doors, using her arms in an X fashion as a brace.
Hipper didn't see you slip out of her way and slink back into the hallway before continuing into a sprint.
"W-where did he go?" She sputtered in a blunder. Her breath was raggedy and frequent.
They all pointed behind her, some of them started running towards her which prompted an annoyed groan from Hipper, who began to give chase to the human.
...
A look of steely determination was imprinted onto your face as you ran with all of your might. Crimson banners, vanilla wallpaper, and the wall-lamps all whizzed by in a amalgamated blur.
You looked behind you to see how much a lead you had.
They were gaining, Hipper was still leading the charge. In a panic, you hurriedly chose a random door flying by.
Eenie, meenie, miney, mo!
You braced and charged through the wooden pair of doors. What you saw in that room was interesting to say the least.
Yet another woman was sitting on some sort of throne. The masonry itself was crumbled at the edges, armrests draped in light amethyst hair.
The woman herself was crossing her legs with her hands joined in her lap. Behind her was a large cathedral-like window showering the room with light, unveiling the darkness. Unlit wax candles ran along the walls with two golden chandeliers hanging above.
She cocked her head slightly to the right, intrigued by your form. Her presence alone sent chills up your spine. Something about her gave off an incredibly ominous vibe.
As you stood there, stunned, the girls behind you had finally caught up. But instead of entering the room and apprehending you with shouts and whatnot, they were quietly gossiping behind closed doors.
"... Think he'll come out alive?"
"August is scary!"
"Quiet, morons!" Hipper hushed them with a quick strike to their foreheads. Muffled whimpers of pain came from the other side of the wall while the figure in front of you stared you down.
There was a profuse silence that was eventually broken by the woman speaking to you.
"It seems you're this Spy. "
She spoke with an air of sophistication and superiority. More silence followed before being broken up yet again. with a sigh she stood up, albeit slowly.
"I must admit, you caught me off guard. "
You watched in a combination of wonder and horror as a mass of azure cubes passed through the floor and walls, amassing themselves into a metal dragon. Instead of wings, it had half of a deck of an aircraft carrier on each wing.
"Your bravery is worthy of admiration, although whether it is folly or valor..." The dragon took a thunderous step towards you, turrets on the deck seemed to be locked onto your head. "I shall decide."
Each of the steps towards you made you flinch.
"You... Want me... To fight... That?" You said while backing up against the door. "What in the name of Christ..? "
What kind of world was this? A world where dragons just... Exist? A world where someone can just pick you up and hurl you without any effort?
This was but another wake-up call to where you had been thrown into.
"Will you falter in the face of such trials?" She ignored your very obvious indirect plea for mercy.
Your hands wrapped around the knob of the door and turned it violently. The door did not open. In a desperate escape attempt, you rammed your shoulder into it repeatedly to no avail.
Seeing how it wasn't working, you backed up towards the dragon and prepared to ram the door down one last time with all of your might.
"Have you given up already?" The woman sneered, a hint of disappointment rang in her voice.
You ran at the door and made one poor excuse of a dropkick while closing your eyes.
...
It felt... Warm. Your body impacted the ground without ever hitting anything with your feet.
For the second time that day, you were dropped onto the floor. Hard.
You let out an exasperated gasp after opening your eyes. Sunlight hit your body from above, no longer held back by a structure.
You were now in a street, occasionally people would pass by. Some looked on with concern, but without the courage to assist. Wooden buildings lined the busy streets, the archaic stone pathway was littered with the tapping of footsteps.
It was just like when you had first arrived here. Though this time, you remembered.
With a silent thank you to whatever deity might've saved you, you stood up with a grin.
Elsewhere...
"Where did he go?!"
"I'm afraid that's not something I know."
"B-but... How?! He can't just vanish! Unless..."
Hipper scratched her chin, her right eye twitching in increasing frustration.
"He must be a submarine! He might have some... Some sort of camouflage! Yes, that must be it!" She whipped around to the crowd of startled onlookers. "Scour the base! I want no stone unturned! Every cabinet, wardrobe and desk!"
Most of the ships saluted with a coordinated "Jawohl!" before dispersing in different directions. Some merely nodded in a sultry state, upset that their lunch had been ruined.
The ones remaining infront of her were none other than Bismarck and Prinz Eugen.
"I just got my rigging on too! Damn him!" Admiral Hipper raised her shaking fist to the sky in rage.
"I'm sure you'll get him next time~" Eugen jokingly assured Hipper, slinging her arm around her sisters neck.
Already teetering on the edge of rage, she had an outburst.
"IT'S YOUR FAULT ANYWAY!" She flew Eugens arm off her shoulder. "I-if you didn't toss him like you did, we could've easily-"
"Eugen, don't go overboard on your games. What is done is done, though do expect to hear from me in the coming days."
Eugen let out a "Hmpf. " and walked away.
Bismarck approached Hipper with a serious gaze. She immediately got the message and composed herself, straightening her posture.
"I believe you were closest to him. Can you describe his face? Eye color, or anything of the sort?"
Admiral Hipper profusely nodded.
"Good."
And that ends the first chapter. As you can probably tell, I'm a novice writer, and most of you are probably twice my age. (Surprisingly, most of you seem to be above the age of 20.) I'm also very new to the fandom, and am looking to improve my writing of dialogue and vast amount of personalities (most of which are tropes), and I'm quite afraid I wrote August/Eugen wrong.
I also have a few questions for any hard-core Azur Lane fans that I'd appreciate if you could answer:
1: Is the German language just called "Ironblood"? Is Japanese called "Sakura" or something? 2: Does the game or anime happen first? Or, are they in separate timelines? I haven't seen Crosswave myself, so I don't know. I was going to follow the events of the anime, then maybe into the game, then into Slow Ahead.
3: (most important one) Are men just... Really rare? Is there a reason why all the ships are females, or why we never see any men, anywhere?
If you've somehow read all of this, thank you, I appreciate people reading my work. Cheers from Australia.
2023.04.01 09:08 BlueFishcake Sexy Space Babes - The Video Game
The gas giant loomed large in the viewport, ballooning as the ship coasted toward it, the colorful blue hues of its swirling bands reflecting the glow of the system’s star.
Darren could make out the bright, scarred surface of an ice moon drifting lazily past, framed against the rivers of flowing hydrogen and helium. Silhouetted against the Jupiter-mass object was their destination – Halfpoint Station.
Having come from Earth, which was still a backwater when compared to many of the Imperium’s more developed worlds, the sheer size and grandeur of the structure took his breath away.
It was hard to gauge its true scale in the vacuum of space where there was no atmospheric haze, and there were no landmarks for reference, the unfiltered light creating harsh shadows. As they drew nearer, however, he was able to pick out some of the massive fuel tankers that swarmed its ports like clouds of gnats.
Those vessels put anything created by Humanity to shame – their purpose being to dip into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, harvesting its resources to fuel the ships that made their berth here.
Calling it enormous was an understatement. It must have been nine miles tall, the main hull of the station forming a long, relatively thin vertical shaft. Surrounding that shaft were half a dozen rotating rings, each one connected to the central column by spokes, the pinpoints of innumerable windows glinting as they slowly turned.
At its apex was a dome of immense proportions, sitting proudly atop the structure, the crystalline material that made up its transparent hull glittering in the starlight. Inside, he could make out glimpses of regal skyscrapers and patches of parkland – an entire city encapsulated in a habitat that had a breathtaking view of the planet.
Darren pursed his lips as he looked down at the device on his wrist, the tiny display showing the familiar text of an article he must have read at least a dozen times by this point.
Halfpoint Station was situated on the outskirts of the Imperium’s sphere of influence, a region of space known only as the Periphery. This put it soundly outside of Purp jurisdiction, but the place still saw a lot of traffic, as the station was right in the middle of a relatively well-traveled shipping route between the three big powers.
While it had started its life as little more than a place to fuel up and get resupplied, being located outside any of the major spheres of influence had its benefits, and the station had garnered a bit of a reputation for its more permissive policies. Now, it was said to be populated by hired guns, smugglers, gamblers, and anyone else who might appreciate discretion.
The Human frowned as he looked out the window once more and tried to reconcile the gleaming edifice before him with the dark reputation the article in his hands presented.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the pilot’s crackly voice came through a hidden intercom in the cabin, informing the passengers that they were commencing docking procedures.
The woman spoke in accented Shil. What that accent was, Darren had no clue, but he knew it wasn’t the same one spoken by his professors – linguistic or mechanical.
He glanced around at his fellow travelers, seeing a few species that he didn’t recognize, along with the more familiar Shil’vati. The aliens were easily identifiable by the purple hue of their skin, their sharp tusks, and their seven-foot height.
Several of them returned his gaze, some curious, some covetous.
Males were rare in the Imperium.
Hell, males were rare, period.
By the standards of most races out in the galaxy, Humanity were the strange ones for having an equal number of men and women. Even six years into the occupation, most were still struggling to adapt to the new paradigm brought on by that reality.
Darren was no exception.
Still, he managed to ignore the stares, turning his attention to the smart display on his wrist, bringing up his itinerary. He was headed to Hab-Ring Five, and the only information that he’d been given beyond that were some coordinates to who-knew-where.
He sighed, wishing – not for the first time – that he might have a fellow first timer to converse with.
Unfortunately, that was a pipe dream.
The lack of other Humans on his ship wasn’t surprising. The Imperium had only recently relaxed enough to begin authorizing travel visas allowing Humans to leave Earth, and his kind were still a rarity on the Galactic stage.
As to why he was out here out in the ass end of space?
He’d been offered a job.
He was an engineer by trade, at least according to his degree, and he specialized in the combination of alien and Human technology. It might seem like an oddly specific skillset, but it was one that was in high demand, as just about every industry on Earth was trying to take advantage of the opportunities provided by the Imperium’s literal space-age technology.
It was complicated work, but he was quite good at it, if he said so himself – and his professors seemed to agree. His gift had catapulted him through university and had apparently landed him a very lucrative offer to take up a position on Halfpoint.
How they’d heard of him, he wasn’t too sure. Nor did he truthfully know exactly what the job entailed. Apparently, he was to be briefed on-location.
Regardless, off-world work was a rare opportunity for any Human, let alone one fresh out of school, and visiting an alien space station was a lot more interesting than backpacking around Europe for a year.
Whatever happened, it was going to be an adventure.
The ship matched velocity with one of the rotating rings, the structure at least half a mile tall in its own right, covered in tiny windows that made it look like a whole city block had been condensed down into the shape of a donut.
Now that he was a little closer, Darren could see that the station was actually far from pristine. Its hull was pocked with haphazard repairs, the newer sections shining brighter than their older counterparts, its armored panels pitted with little craters from space debris and micro-meteorite impacts.
The ship lined up with a docking port, and an umbilical walkway began to extrude from the ring, reaching out towards them. It looked like the jib of a crane, covered over with a flexible material that bore a suspicious resemblance to a grey tarp.
Surely it wasn’t actually a tarp? No, it had to be some kind of alien supertech – too advanced for him to recognize at a glance.
Right?
His thoughts did little to reassure him as the umbilical connected to the shuttle’s airlock with a tangible thud.
Shaking his head, he retrieved his travel bag, then made his way down the aisle to join the queue of passengers who were waiting to disembark. More of them crammed in behind him, and he tried to ignore their uncomfortable proximity.
He hadn’t actually spent a lot of time around aliens during his schooling. One of his professors had been a Shil, but she had been professional to a fault and had always kept a healthy distance from her students.
Of course, she had still managed to be rather intimidating despite that, her head seeming to scrape the ceiling every time she stepped into the classroom. However, Darren was rapidly discovering that being surrounded by women who stood head and shoulders above him was a different experience altogether.
It was nothing to get worked up over, though. He just needed to-
The Shil standing behind him pressed close – uncomfortably close – Darren swearing that there was room enough in the aisle for her to keep her distance. Suddenly, he felt a sharp twinge in his rear.
Had she just...pinched him? No, it had to have been a mistake.
He turned to glance over his shoulder, looking up at the towering Purp. “Sorry, Ma’am, I must have bumped into you.”
Her sly smile faded as she furrowed her brow in confusion. Before she had time to formulate a reply, the intercom above the exit beeped.
“Oh, looks like we’re moving again!” Darren chimed as he began to follow the queue. “Sorry!”
He followed the procession of towering women into the passenger ship’s airlock. Both of the pressurized doors were open, and before him stretched the umbilical. The worryingly thin material that protected them from the deadly vacuum of space was wrapped taut around a metal frame, and the walkway beneath his feet was made up of a simple grate.
After a short walk, they emerged into a cavernous dock area, so large that it was more like standing in some kind of indoor stadium than anything that could be compared to a space station. There were stacks of shipping containers and unidentifiable machinery everywhere he looked.
It was a challenge not to stop and examine the equipment, each new sight piquing his interest, each strange device begging to be investigated. As he followed the other passengers to the far end of the room – his head on a swivel – he almost bumped into one of the containers. To his surprise, it was floating a foot off the ground, suspended on an anti-gravity cushion.
It was funny – no matter how many times he saw it, it never stopped being surreal to see something just…float.
As he stooped to look beneath it, an irritated dockworker leaned out from behind it to yell at whoever was in her way. She stopped when she saw him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She was a Rakiri, if Darren remembered correctly. She resembled a towering werewolf, a pair of cat-like eyes peering out from beneath her black fur, her facial features strangely leonine. She was clad in dirty, yellow coveralls that hung loosely from her broad shoulders, exposing the ragged tank top that she wore beneath it. Tufts of her dark coat poked out around the faded garment, giving her a surprisingly fluffy appearance.
“You lost, boy?” she asked as she shooed him out of her path. “Stay behind the yellow warning markings unless you want to get that cute butt smushed,” she added with a nod toward the deck. She continued to push her heavy container, moving it effortlessly on its gravity cushion.
More dock workers were assembling to stare at him, perhaps having never seen a Human before. Or perhaps it was because he was male? It was hard to tell. Either way, a small crowd of yellow-clad women saw him off, a couple of them hooting at him and waving. Not sure if this was some kind of alien greeting, he shyly waved back, eliciting laughter from them after a moment of surprise.
One started to make her way over to him before a menacing growl from her superior made her freeze in place sheepishly. Darren took that as his cue to move on – he didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble by being in the way.
He arrived at a security gate, and after being asked to show his visa, he was subjected to a very thorough – and in his opinion unnecessary – pat-down. Once he was cleared, he emerged into the station proper. He stepped out of the way of the women behind him, then set his travel bag down on the metal deck, taking in the alien sights and sounds for a moment.
Far from being a sterile, clinical environment, he found himself in a bustling bazaar worthy of any city back on Earth. It scarcely felt like he was standing inside a station at all, what passed for the ceiling so high above his head that he could barely make out the crisscrossing support beams and maintenance catwalks.
It was styled like a cramped street, too small for cars, almost like the city center of some old European town had been reimagined in an industrial style. Civilian quarters that resembled apartment blocks rose up towards the ceiling, connecting to it in some places, likely leading up to higher levels of the station.
In every nook and cranny – anywhere there was room – the denizens of the hab-ring had set up little stalls where they were hawking their wares to the tourists who had just boarded. Colorful awnings fluttered in the artificial breeze from the air recyclers, and insulated cables that had been patched from the station’s systems trailed along walls and floors, powering streetside food stands and colorful neon signs.
Speaking of the denizens, they came in all shapes and sizes. Darren had never seen so many varieties of alien in one place before. He could make out a few Shil and Rakiri, but most were unknown to him, the varied hues of their skin and clothes creating a bustling sea of color.
He checked the device on his wrist again, pulling up the coordinates that his new employer had forwarded to him. This was indeed Hab-Ring Five, and he’d been given what passed for an address in this strange environment. Hefting his bag once more, he made his way into the throng, having to dodge and weave between the towering aliens. Many of them barely seemed to register his presence, probably due to his comparatively small stature, though some seemed to stop and stare in confusion.
Well, I suppose Humans are pretty new on the galactic scene, he thought to himself.
The scents of strange, alien food assailed him as he navigated the cramped streets, a few of the criers singling him out. They had sharp instincts, he’d give them that. It seemed the locals could smell a tourist at thirty paces.
Maybe it was all the staring he was doing?
Eventually, he arrived at his destination, glancing up from his display to see a dingy bar. It was open to the street, built into an overhang at the base of one of the many buildings, little more than a long counter with a few stools. Above it was a blinking neon sign in a script that he couldn’t read. As he made his way inside and struggled up onto one of the tall stools, the small handful of patrons who were sitting off to his left paused their conversation to examine him.
They were Nighkru, their goat-like horns and the bruise-purple hue of their skin giving them away. Their silver eyes were striking, almost seeming to glow in the dim light of the bar, as reflective as those of a cat. Their clothing was all tight leather and straps, their skin strategically exposed in places to show off their stunning bioluminescent tattoos, the swirling patterns trailing down slender limbs and across toned midriffs.
He kept his gaze aimed forward, knowing that their kind didn’t think much of the Imperium to which he now belonged.
…Then again, that was true for pretty much every race that wasn’t a part of the massive interstellar empire. Say what you would about the Purps, but they knew how to make an impression.
The bartender walked over to him, leaning on the counter as she looked him up and down skeptically. It was another Rakiri like the dockworkers, her feline nose twitching as she took in his scent.
“You lost, or do you want something to drink?” she asked.
“No thank you, I’m waiting for someone,” he replied sheepishly as he lowered his eyes to his device again.
He was right on time, but as he looked around, there was no sign of his contact. He was supposed to meet them here, right?
The Rakiri shrugged her furry shoulders, then left him to his own devices, moving over to the small group of Nighkru.
Perhaps one of them was his contact?
He certainly hoped not. While he didn’t have anything against a person enjoying themselves with a good drink after hours, it wasn’t a good way to make a positive first impression on a prospective employee.
Fortunately for him, the surprise on one of the trio’s grey skinned faces when she happened to blearily peer in his direction dashed that possibility. Just a trio of young women out for a drink.
Unfortunately for him, after a few hastily whispered words to her friends, the group made their way over to him.
“Don’t see many males round these parts,” one of them said, her faux leather getup creaking as she planted her hands on the bar to his left. Another leaned on the counter to his right, the third posting up behind him.
“A Human, too,” the woman to his right added with a sly chuckle. “Now, what’s a Human doing all alone out on the Periphery?”
“I didn’t think the Purps were letting their pets off the leash.” the one behind him snickered.
“I don’t know,” the first said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe he snuck out in search of a real woman? I think we’ve all heard how Humans can be.”
That set the three of them laughing.
All the while, Darren wasn’t sure where to look, turning his head left and right as he struggled to pick a Nighkru. He settled on the woman to his left, having to lift his head to meet her gaze, those reflective eyes shining like a pair of silver coins.
“I...uh...was actually supposed to be meeting someone here.” he stammered, a little of his anxiety bleeding through.
The Nighkru gave him a warm smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes, leaning a little closer. He tried to pull away reflexively but found another Nighkru waiting for him, something rather soft pressing against his back.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here but me and my friends,” one of them said as she tutted dramatically. “Maybe they stood you up?”
“Poor form, that,” the one behind him whispered into his ear. He lurched in his seat, surprised by her proximity. “Leaving a pretty young thing like you hanging.”
The first one nodded, as if that was a piece of sagely wisdom. “I know – how about my friends and I give you a personal tour of the station to make up for it?” she asked, reaching out to brush a piece of errant fluff from his collar. “We’ll even carry your luggage for you – we’re nice like that.”
She signaled to one of her compatriots with a curt nod, who then plucked his travel bag off the deck.
“Oh, that’s really not-”
He tried to stand, but he was cut off as two of the women placed their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down into his seat. Their touch was gentle, but firm, letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere.
Darren looked to the Rakiri bartender for help, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the turn of events, but she was staying out of it. She was feigning disinterest, cleaning a glass with a rag that didn’t look clean enough for the job.
It was clear that he wouldn’t be getting any help from her.
Was this really going to be his first experience on the station – kidnapped by a gang of alien grifters?
Just as he was getting ready to – likely ineffectually – start swinging like his life depended on it, he heard a voice ring out in a language he didn’t recognize.
The Nighkru turned their heads as one, and he followed their gaze, seeing another of their kind step in from the street. Her skin had the same twilight hue, her silvery hair pulled back into a long ponytail that trailed behind her as she strode towards them. She wore a jet-black body suit that left little to the imagination, so tight that it might have been sewn onto her, the garment open at the front to expose a chiseled midriff and the beginnings of her cleavage. Her eyes were mesmerizing, his gaze drawn to the glowing tattoos that served to accentuate them.
Oddly, unlike the trio surrounding him, she had no horns.
The stranger walked with purpose, her heels clicking on the deck, her hair swishing behind her as she came to a stop to stare down the three other women. They were already backing off, the Nighkru who had taken his bag setting it back down gingerly beside his seat. Did they know this person? They seemed so wary of her.
“Maybe we’ll see you around,” one of them whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment before she followed her friends out into the street.
Once they were finally out of sight, Darren breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank the newcomer. Before he could utter so much as a word, she beat him to the punch.
“You shouldn’t wander around Halfpoint alone,” she said, skipping the preamble. Her voice had a melodic tone, one that was almost musical to Darren’s ears. She planted her hands on her hips, scrutinizing him with a skeptical expression. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“I’m just...waiting for someone,” he replied. “Thank you, by the way. I’m-”
“Do you have a weapon on you?” she asked, cutting him off. “A handgun under that jacket? Defense spray? A pocket knife?”
“What? No,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “Why would I have a gun?”
Even with a few inches of titanium-alloy plating between everyone aboard and a messy death by explosive decompression, using a firearm on the station seemed risky.
She snorted derisively, almost as though she couldn’t believe his reply.
“For your sake, I hope that whoever you’re waiting for is smarter than you are,” she said with a roll of her silver eyes. “This isn’t Earth, boy. There are no Shil Marines around to babysit you. Next time you want to play tourist, go somewhere closer to home.”
With a flick of her long hair, she turned about, vanishing into the crowd once more to leave him sitting at the bar in confusion.
Darren felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see an Edixi wearing grease-stained overalls standing behind him. The tool belt that hung loosely about her hips let him know that she was a mechanic before she’d even had time to open her mouth.
Her kind were evolved for an aquatic environment, and although they were fully amphibious, they retained many of their ancient features. Their bodies were smooth and streamlined, with lean, lightly-muscled frames that made them look like Olympic swimmers. Her eyes were a striking ocean-green, and her azure skin was patterned with faded tiger stripes, darkening as it neared her extremities.
“You’re the new engineer, right?” she chirped excitedly.
“Darren Fogle, pleased to meet you,” he confirmed as he extended a hand. She took it, shaking it eagerly, and he noted that her fingers were webbed.
He was a little surprised by how smooth her skin was. Given the sharklike appearance of the Edixi – and her vocation – he’d expected it to be rough and scaly. Maybe cold and slimy, too. By contrast, it was warm and soft, her small scales smooth like a snake’s rather than sharp like those of a fish.
Odd.
“Oh, it is. It very much is. The boss told me to fetch you,” she said before turning back towards the street. “Don’t get lost, you hear? There are some rough types around these parts.”
Yes, she could say that again. He stooped to pick up his bag, then hurried after her, trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd. He also belatedly realized that she hadn’t told him her own name.
Was that an Edixi thing or was she just in a hurry?
The mechanic led him through the streets, which seemed to be arranged in a kind of grid pattern, always flanked by the towering hab-blocks. It was as challenging as ever to navigate when so many of the station’s inhabitants stood a head taller than him. It made him feel like a bug that was trying to avoid being stepped on.
He could only assume he’d get used to it. His guide seemed to have no problem getting around, and she was a few inches shorter than him.
Their destination was some kind of service elevator – a large platform that seemed designed to carry heavy cargo up from the docks, wide enough that a couple of trucks could have parked on it side by side. There were still a few cargo containers stacked off to one side that hadn’t been unloaded yet.
He watched as the woman hit a touch panel beside the double doors, and they began to slide shut, the platform lurching as Darren felt it start to rise. There was no grinding of machinery, no vibrations, only a sensation of getting heavier. It was obviously gravity-manipulation tech. It wasn’t too surprising – the Shil seemed to use it for just about everything, so it wasn’t too strange that the rest of the universe did as well.
Convergent technological development, he could almost imagine his Shil instructor saying as they started to descend. Good tech is good tech.
The hab-ring’s many levels flashed by one by one, until finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. Darren followed the happily humming mechanic out into a garage, his eyes lighting up as he took in his new surroundings.
Were those… mecha?
The bay’s walls were lined with bulky harnesses that were obviously designed to hold the machines in place, a few of the berths already occupied by half-disassembled vehicles.
They were!
“Real life mecha,” he mumbled.
As a mechanic, he wasn’t ignorant of the genre. After all, what kind of engineer didn’t hold a soft spot for giant stompy robots? Of course, as an engineer, he also held an inherent disdain for anyone that actually thought said machines were even remotely practical outside of the realm of fiction.
The Square Cube Law was a harsh mistress.
The long and short of it was that if you doubled a machine's height while keeping it the same shape, you ended up with four times the muscle power moving eight times the mass. As a result, instead of having the same relative agility as the original, the double-sized machine actually had only half.
That was why ants could lift so much relative to their weight. If you scaled one up, you’d end up with a much less impressive power to weight ration.
And, the problem only got worse the bigger you went. Giant robots would be slow, cumbersome, and they would inevitably suffer from exploding ankles if they tried to move too fast. They’d also sink in just about any terrain that was even slightly porous.
All in all, mecha were a cool concept with absolutely zero real world applications.
Which was why he was so stunned to see some in real life. Sure, the Shil military liked to use exos, but they were really just power armor by any other name with thrusters attached. Besides, the only reason those things could skip around like they did was because they had anti-grav generators…
His thoughts trailed off as an idea occurred to him. He jogged over to the nearest machine, peering up at the twenty-foot humanoid monstrosity. Its legs had been detached, leaving only a bulky torso covered in half-stripped sensory equipment, lenses and scanners visible where their protective covers had been removed. The cockpit was open, revealing the pilot’s seat, along with the surrounding neural interface cables that hung loose like the entrails of some mechanical beast. Its weapon attachments were empty, but it was nonetheless an awe-inspiring sight.
Sure enough, there were two oversized humps on the back. One was clearly for the thing’s fusion engine – and the other must have held the anti-grav generator.
“Darren?” the mechanic asked, having only just realized that he wasn’t behind her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, jogging for a few paces to catch up. “That’s a mecha!”
The blue-hued alien nodded slowly. “Yes?”
“A mecha,” he reiterated.
Which prompted another slow nod. “You’ve never seen a gladiator mech before?”
“No.”
“Didn’t they tell you what job you’d be doing?” the mechanic asked, cocking her head in a rather adorable manner.
“No?” This time it was his turn to cock his head.
Several emotions seemed to fly across the alien’s face. He saw surprise, confusion, and dismay before she finally settled on irritation.
“Typical,” she grunted. “Just… follow me.”
AN: https://youtu.be/a3Xp1WhRQ9Q
submitted by BlueFishcake to HFY [link] [comments]
Darren could make out the bright, scarred surface of an ice moon drifting lazily past, framed against the rivers of flowing hydrogen and helium. Silhouetted against the Jupiter-mass object was their destination – Halfpoint Station.
Having come from Earth, which was still a backwater when compared to many of the Imperium’s more developed worlds, the sheer size and grandeur of the structure took his breath away.
It was hard to gauge its true scale in the vacuum of space where there was no atmospheric haze, and there were no landmarks for reference, the unfiltered light creating harsh shadows. As they drew nearer, however, he was able to pick out some of the massive fuel tankers that swarmed its ports like clouds of gnats.
Those vessels put anything created by Humanity to shame – their purpose being to dip into the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, harvesting its resources to fuel the ships that made their berth here.
Calling it enormous was an understatement. It must have been nine miles tall, the main hull of the station forming a long, relatively thin vertical shaft. Surrounding that shaft were half a dozen rotating rings, each one connected to the central column by spokes, the pinpoints of innumerable windows glinting as they slowly turned.
At its apex was a dome of immense proportions, sitting proudly atop the structure, the crystalline material that made up its transparent hull glittering in the starlight. Inside, he could make out glimpses of regal skyscrapers and patches of parkland – an entire city encapsulated in a habitat that had a breathtaking view of the planet.
Darren pursed his lips as he looked down at the device on his wrist, the tiny display showing the familiar text of an article he must have read at least a dozen times by this point.
Halfpoint Station was situated on the outskirts of the Imperium’s sphere of influence, a region of space known only as the Periphery. This put it soundly outside of Purp jurisdiction, but the place still saw a lot of traffic, as the station was right in the middle of a relatively well-traveled shipping route between the three big powers.
While it had started its life as little more than a place to fuel up and get resupplied, being located outside any of the major spheres of influence had its benefits, and the station had garnered a bit of a reputation for its more permissive policies. Now, it was said to be populated by hired guns, smugglers, gamblers, and anyone else who might appreciate discretion.
The Human frowned as he looked out the window once more and tried to reconcile the gleaming edifice before him with the dark reputation the article in his hands presented.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it before the pilot’s crackly voice came through a hidden intercom in the cabin, informing the passengers that they were commencing docking procedures.
The woman spoke in accented Shil. What that accent was, Darren had no clue, but he knew it wasn’t the same one spoken by his professors – linguistic or mechanical.
He glanced around at his fellow travelers, seeing a few species that he didn’t recognize, along with the more familiar Shil’vati. The aliens were easily identifiable by the purple hue of their skin, their sharp tusks, and their seven-foot height.
Several of them returned his gaze, some curious, some covetous.
Males were rare in the Imperium.
Hell, males were rare, period.
By the standards of most races out in the galaxy, Humanity were the strange ones for having an equal number of men and women. Even six years into the occupation, most were still struggling to adapt to the new paradigm brought on by that reality.
Darren was no exception.
Still, he managed to ignore the stares, turning his attention to the smart display on his wrist, bringing up his itinerary. He was headed to Hab-Ring Five, and the only information that he’d been given beyond that were some coordinates to who-knew-where.
He sighed, wishing – not for the first time – that he might have a fellow first timer to converse with.
Unfortunately, that was a pipe dream.
The lack of other Humans on his ship wasn’t surprising. The Imperium had only recently relaxed enough to begin authorizing travel visas allowing Humans to leave Earth, and his kind were still a rarity on the Galactic stage.
As to why he was out here out in the ass end of space?
He’d been offered a job.
He was an engineer by trade, at least according to his degree, and he specialized in the combination of alien and Human technology. It might seem like an oddly specific skillset, but it was one that was in high demand, as just about every industry on Earth was trying to take advantage of the opportunities provided by the Imperium’s literal space-age technology.
It was complicated work, but he was quite good at it, if he said so himself – and his professors seemed to agree. His gift had catapulted him through university and had apparently landed him a very lucrative offer to take up a position on Halfpoint.
How they’d heard of him, he wasn’t too sure. Nor did he truthfully know exactly what the job entailed. Apparently, he was to be briefed on-location.
Regardless, off-world work was a rare opportunity for any Human, let alone one fresh out of school, and visiting an alien space station was a lot more interesting than backpacking around Europe for a year.
Whatever happened, it was going to be an adventure.
The ship matched velocity with one of the rotating rings, the structure at least half a mile tall in its own right, covered in tiny windows that made it look like a whole city block had been condensed down into the shape of a donut.
Now that he was a little closer, Darren could see that the station was actually far from pristine. Its hull was pocked with haphazard repairs, the newer sections shining brighter than their older counterparts, its armored panels pitted with little craters from space debris and micro-meteorite impacts.
The ship lined up with a docking port, and an umbilical walkway began to extrude from the ring, reaching out towards them. It looked like the jib of a crane, covered over with a flexible material that bore a suspicious resemblance to a grey tarp.
Surely it wasn’t actually a tarp? No, it had to be some kind of alien supertech – too advanced for him to recognize at a glance.
Right?
His thoughts did little to reassure him as the umbilical connected to the shuttle’s airlock with a tangible thud.
Shaking his head, he retrieved his travel bag, then made his way down the aisle to join the queue of passengers who were waiting to disembark. More of them crammed in behind him, and he tried to ignore their uncomfortable proximity.
He hadn’t actually spent a lot of time around aliens during his schooling. One of his professors had been a Shil, but she had been professional to a fault and had always kept a healthy distance from her students.
Of course, she had still managed to be rather intimidating despite that, her head seeming to scrape the ceiling every time she stepped into the classroom. However, Darren was rapidly discovering that being surrounded by women who stood head and shoulders above him was a different experience altogether.
It was nothing to get worked up over, though. He just needed to-
The Shil standing behind him pressed close – uncomfortably close – Darren swearing that there was room enough in the aisle for her to keep her distance. Suddenly, he felt a sharp twinge in his rear.
Had she just...pinched him? No, it had to have been a mistake.
He turned to glance over his shoulder, looking up at the towering Purp. “Sorry, Ma’am, I must have bumped into you.”
Her sly smile faded as she furrowed her brow in confusion. Before she had time to formulate a reply, the intercom above the exit beeped.
“Oh, looks like we’re moving again!” Darren chimed as he began to follow the queue. “Sorry!”
He followed the procession of towering women into the passenger ship’s airlock. Both of the pressurized doors were open, and before him stretched the umbilical. The worryingly thin material that protected them from the deadly vacuum of space was wrapped taut around a metal frame, and the walkway beneath his feet was made up of a simple grate.
After a short walk, they emerged into a cavernous dock area, so large that it was more like standing in some kind of indoor stadium than anything that could be compared to a space station. There were stacks of shipping containers and unidentifiable machinery everywhere he looked.
It was a challenge not to stop and examine the equipment, each new sight piquing his interest, each strange device begging to be investigated. As he followed the other passengers to the far end of the room – his head on a swivel – he almost bumped into one of the containers. To his surprise, it was floating a foot off the ground, suspended on an anti-gravity cushion.
It was funny – no matter how many times he saw it, it never stopped being surreal to see something just…float.
As he stooped to look beneath it, an irritated dockworker leaned out from behind it to yell at whoever was in her way. She stopped when she saw him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She was a Rakiri, if Darren remembered correctly. She resembled a towering werewolf, a pair of cat-like eyes peering out from beneath her black fur, her facial features strangely leonine. She was clad in dirty, yellow coveralls that hung loosely from her broad shoulders, exposing the ragged tank top that she wore beneath it. Tufts of her dark coat poked out around the faded garment, giving her a surprisingly fluffy appearance.
“You lost, boy?” she asked as she shooed him out of her path. “Stay behind the yellow warning markings unless you want to get that cute butt smushed,” she added with a nod toward the deck. She continued to push her heavy container, moving it effortlessly on its gravity cushion.
More dock workers were assembling to stare at him, perhaps having never seen a Human before. Or perhaps it was because he was male? It was hard to tell. Either way, a small crowd of yellow-clad women saw him off, a couple of them hooting at him and waving. Not sure if this was some kind of alien greeting, he shyly waved back, eliciting laughter from them after a moment of surprise.
One started to make her way over to him before a menacing growl from her superior made her freeze in place sheepishly. Darren took that as his cue to move on – he didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble by being in the way.
He arrived at a security gate, and after being asked to show his visa, he was subjected to a very thorough – and in his opinion unnecessary – pat-down. Once he was cleared, he emerged into the station proper. He stepped out of the way of the women behind him, then set his travel bag down on the metal deck, taking in the alien sights and sounds for a moment.
Far from being a sterile, clinical environment, he found himself in a bustling bazaar worthy of any city back on Earth. It scarcely felt like he was standing inside a station at all, what passed for the ceiling so high above his head that he could barely make out the crisscrossing support beams and maintenance catwalks.
It was styled like a cramped street, too small for cars, almost like the city center of some old European town had been reimagined in an industrial style. Civilian quarters that resembled apartment blocks rose up towards the ceiling, connecting to it in some places, likely leading up to higher levels of the station.
In every nook and cranny – anywhere there was room – the denizens of the hab-ring had set up little stalls where they were hawking their wares to the tourists who had just boarded. Colorful awnings fluttered in the artificial breeze from the air recyclers, and insulated cables that had been patched from the station’s systems trailed along walls and floors, powering streetside food stands and colorful neon signs.
Speaking of the denizens, they came in all shapes and sizes. Darren had never seen so many varieties of alien in one place before. He could make out a few Shil and Rakiri, but most were unknown to him, the varied hues of their skin and clothes creating a bustling sea of color.
He checked the device on his wrist again, pulling up the coordinates that his new employer had forwarded to him. This was indeed Hab-Ring Five, and he’d been given what passed for an address in this strange environment. Hefting his bag once more, he made his way into the throng, having to dodge and weave between the towering aliens. Many of them barely seemed to register his presence, probably due to his comparatively small stature, though some seemed to stop and stare in confusion.
Well, I suppose Humans are pretty new on the galactic scene, he thought to himself.
The scents of strange, alien food assailed him as he navigated the cramped streets, a few of the criers singling him out. They had sharp instincts, he’d give them that. It seemed the locals could smell a tourist at thirty paces.
Maybe it was all the staring he was doing?
Eventually, he arrived at his destination, glancing up from his display to see a dingy bar. It was open to the street, built into an overhang at the base of one of the many buildings, little more than a long counter with a few stools. Above it was a blinking neon sign in a script that he couldn’t read. As he made his way inside and struggled up onto one of the tall stools, the small handful of patrons who were sitting off to his left paused their conversation to examine him.
They were Nighkru, their goat-like horns and the bruise-purple hue of their skin giving them away. Their silver eyes were striking, almost seeming to glow in the dim light of the bar, as reflective as those of a cat. Their clothing was all tight leather and straps, their skin strategically exposed in places to show off their stunning bioluminescent tattoos, the swirling patterns trailing down slender limbs and across toned midriffs.
He kept his gaze aimed forward, knowing that their kind didn’t think much of the Imperium to which he now belonged.
…Then again, that was true for pretty much every race that wasn’t a part of the massive interstellar empire. Say what you would about the Purps, but they knew how to make an impression.
The bartender walked over to him, leaning on the counter as she looked him up and down skeptically. It was another Rakiri like the dockworkers, her feline nose twitching as she took in his scent.
“You lost, or do you want something to drink?” she asked.
“No thank you, I’m waiting for someone,” he replied sheepishly as he lowered his eyes to his device again.
He was right on time, but as he looked around, there was no sign of his contact. He was supposed to meet them here, right?
The Rakiri shrugged her furry shoulders, then left him to his own devices, moving over to the small group of Nighkru.
Perhaps one of them was his contact?
He certainly hoped not. While he didn’t have anything against a person enjoying themselves with a good drink after hours, it wasn’t a good way to make a positive first impression on a prospective employee.
Fortunately for him, the surprise on one of the trio’s grey skinned faces when she happened to blearily peer in his direction dashed that possibility. Just a trio of young women out for a drink.
Unfortunately for him, after a few hastily whispered words to her friends, the group made their way over to him.
“Don’t see many males round these parts,” one of them said, her faux leather getup creaking as she planted her hands on the bar to his left. Another leaned on the counter to his right, the third posting up behind him.
“A Human, too,” the woman to his right added with a sly chuckle. “Now, what’s a Human doing all alone out on the Periphery?”
“I didn’t think the Purps were letting their pets off the leash.” the one behind him snickered.
“I don’t know,” the first said with an exaggerated shrug. “Maybe he snuck out in search of a real woman? I think we’ve all heard how Humans can be.”
That set the three of them laughing.
All the while, Darren wasn’t sure where to look, turning his head left and right as he struggled to pick a Nighkru. He settled on the woman to his left, having to lift his head to meet her gaze, those reflective eyes shining like a pair of silver coins.
“I...uh...was actually supposed to be meeting someone here.” he stammered, a little of his anxiety bleeding through.
The Nighkru gave him a warm smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes, leaning a little closer. He tried to pull away reflexively but found another Nighkru waiting for him, something rather soft pressing against his back.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here but me and my friends,” one of them said as she tutted dramatically. “Maybe they stood you up?”
“Poor form, that,” the one behind him whispered into his ear. He lurched in his seat, surprised by her proximity. “Leaving a pretty young thing like you hanging.”
The first one nodded, as if that was a piece of sagely wisdom. “I know – how about my friends and I give you a personal tour of the station to make up for it?” she asked, reaching out to brush a piece of errant fluff from his collar. “We’ll even carry your luggage for you – we’re nice like that.”
She signaled to one of her compatriots with a curt nod, who then plucked his travel bag off the deck.
“Oh, that’s really not-”
He tried to stand, but he was cut off as two of the women placed their hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down into his seat. Their touch was gentle, but firm, letting him know that he wasn't going anywhere.
Darren looked to the Rakiri bartender for help, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the turn of events, but she was staying out of it. She was feigning disinterest, cleaning a glass with a rag that didn’t look clean enough for the job.
It was clear that he wouldn’t be getting any help from her.
Was this really going to be his first experience on the station – kidnapped by a gang of alien grifters?
Just as he was getting ready to – likely ineffectually – start swinging like his life depended on it, he heard a voice ring out in a language he didn’t recognize.
The Nighkru turned their heads as one, and he followed their gaze, seeing another of their kind step in from the street. Her skin had the same twilight hue, her silvery hair pulled back into a long ponytail that trailed behind her as she strode towards them. She wore a jet-black body suit that left little to the imagination, so tight that it might have been sewn onto her, the garment open at the front to expose a chiseled midriff and the beginnings of her cleavage. Her eyes were mesmerizing, his gaze drawn to the glowing tattoos that served to accentuate them.
Oddly, unlike the trio surrounding him, she had no horns.
The stranger walked with purpose, her heels clicking on the deck, her hair swishing behind her as she came to a stop to stare down the three other women. They were already backing off, the Nighkru who had taken his bag setting it back down gingerly beside his seat. Did they know this person? They seemed so wary of her.
“Maybe we’ll see you around,” one of them whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment before she followed her friends out into the street.
Once they were finally out of sight, Darren breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank the newcomer. Before he could utter so much as a word, she beat him to the punch.
“You shouldn’t wander around Halfpoint alone,” she said, skipping the preamble. Her voice had a melodic tone, one that was almost musical to Darren’s ears. She planted her hands on her hips, scrutinizing him with a skeptical expression. “You’re just asking for trouble.”
“I’m just...waiting for someone,” he replied. “Thank you, by the way. I’m-”
“Do you have a weapon on you?” she asked, cutting him off. “A handgun under that jacket? Defense spray? A pocket knife?”
“What? No,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “Why would I have a gun?”
Even with a few inches of titanium-alloy plating between everyone aboard and a messy death by explosive decompression, using a firearm on the station seemed risky.
She snorted derisively, almost as though she couldn’t believe his reply.
“For your sake, I hope that whoever you’re waiting for is smarter than you are,” she said with a roll of her silver eyes. “This isn’t Earth, boy. There are no Shil Marines around to babysit you. Next time you want to play tourist, go somewhere closer to home.”
With a flick of her long hair, she turned about, vanishing into the crowd once more to leave him sitting at the bar in confusion.
Darren felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see an Edixi wearing grease-stained overalls standing behind him. The tool belt that hung loosely about her hips let him know that she was a mechanic before she’d even had time to open her mouth.
Her kind were evolved for an aquatic environment, and although they were fully amphibious, they retained many of their ancient features. Their bodies were smooth and streamlined, with lean, lightly-muscled frames that made them look like Olympic swimmers. Her eyes were a striking ocean-green, and her azure skin was patterned with faded tiger stripes, darkening as it neared her extremities.
“You’re the new engineer, right?” she chirped excitedly.
“Darren Fogle, pleased to meet you,” he confirmed as he extended a hand. She took it, shaking it eagerly, and he noted that her fingers were webbed.
He was a little surprised by how smooth her skin was. Given the sharklike appearance of the Edixi – and her vocation – he’d expected it to be rough and scaly. Maybe cold and slimy, too. By contrast, it was warm and soft, her small scales smooth like a snake’s rather than sharp like those of a fish.
Odd.
“Oh, it is. It very much is. The boss told me to fetch you,” she said before turning back towards the street. “Don’t get lost, you hear? There are some rough types around these parts.”
Yes, she could say that again. He stooped to pick up his bag, then hurried after her, trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd. He also belatedly realized that she hadn’t told him her own name.
Was that an Edixi thing or was she just in a hurry?
The mechanic led him through the streets, which seemed to be arranged in a kind of grid pattern, always flanked by the towering hab-blocks. It was as challenging as ever to navigate when so many of the station’s inhabitants stood a head taller than him. It made him feel like a bug that was trying to avoid being stepped on.
He could only assume he’d get used to it. His guide seemed to have no problem getting around, and she was a few inches shorter than him.
Their destination was some kind of service elevator – a large platform that seemed designed to carry heavy cargo up from the docks, wide enough that a couple of trucks could have parked on it side by side. There were still a few cargo containers stacked off to one side that hadn’t been unloaded yet.
He watched as the woman hit a touch panel beside the double doors, and they began to slide shut, the platform lurching as Darren felt it start to rise. There was no grinding of machinery, no vibrations, only a sensation of getting heavier. It was obviously gravity-manipulation tech. It wasn’t too surprising – the Shil seemed to use it for just about everything, so it wasn’t too strange that the rest of the universe did as well.
Convergent technological development, he could almost imagine his Shil instructor saying as they started to descend. Good tech is good tech.
The hab-ring’s many levels flashed by one by one, until finally, the elevator slid to a smooth stop. Darren followed the happily humming mechanic out into a garage, his eyes lighting up as he took in his new surroundings.
Were those… mecha?
The bay’s walls were lined with bulky harnesses that were obviously designed to hold the machines in place, a few of the berths already occupied by half-disassembled vehicles.
They were!
“Real life mecha,” he mumbled.
As a mechanic, he wasn’t ignorant of the genre. After all, what kind of engineer didn’t hold a soft spot for giant stompy robots? Of course, as an engineer, he also held an inherent disdain for anyone that actually thought said machines were even remotely practical outside of the realm of fiction.
The Square Cube Law was a harsh mistress.
The long and short of it was that if you doubled a machine's height while keeping it the same shape, you ended up with four times the muscle power moving eight times the mass. As a result, instead of having the same relative agility as the original, the double-sized machine actually had only half.
That was why ants could lift so much relative to their weight. If you scaled one up, you’d end up with a much less impressive power to weight ration.
And, the problem only got worse the bigger you went. Giant robots would be slow, cumbersome, and they would inevitably suffer from exploding ankles if they tried to move too fast. They’d also sink in just about any terrain that was even slightly porous.
All in all, mecha were a cool concept with absolutely zero real world applications.
Which was why he was so stunned to see some in real life. Sure, the Shil military liked to use exos, but they were really just power armor by any other name with thrusters attached. Besides, the only reason those things could skip around like they did was because they had anti-grav generators…
His thoughts trailed off as an idea occurred to him. He jogged over to the nearest machine, peering up at the twenty-foot humanoid monstrosity. Its legs had been detached, leaving only a bulky torso covered in half-stripped sensory equipment, lenses and scanners visible where their protective covers had been removed. The cockpit was open, revealing the pilot’s seat, along with the surrounding neural interface cables that hung loose like the entrails of some mechanical beast. Its weapon attachments were empty, but it was nonetheless an awe-inspiring sight.
Sure enough, there were two oversized humps on the back. One was clearly for the thing’s fusion engine – and the other must have held the anti-grav generator.
“Darren?” the mechanic asked, having only just realized that he wasn’t behind her. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Y-yeah,” he said, jogging for a few paces to catch up. “That’s a mecha!”
The blue-hued alien nodded slowly. “Yes?”
“A mecha,” he reiterated.
Which prompted another slow nod. “You’ve never seen a gladiator mech before?”
“No.”
“Didn’t they tell you what job you’d be doing?” the mechanic asked, cocking her head in a rather adorable manner.
“No?” This time it was his turn to cock his head.
Several emotions seemed to fly across the alien’s face. He saw surprise, confusion, and dismay before she finally settled on irritation.
“Typical,” she grunted. “Just… follow me.”
AN: https://youtu.be/a3Xp1WhRQ9Q
2023.04.01 09:03 Optimal_Sail_300 How can an F&B interior designer create a design that maximizes the use of vertical space in a restaurant?
As the demand for space in cities increases, restaurants are finding themselves with less and less square footage to work with. This has led many F&B interior designers to focus on maximizing the use of vertical space in restaurants. By doing so, they can create functional and visually stunning spaces that are not only efficient but also memorable for their customers. In this blog post, we will explore some of the ways an F&B interior designer can create a design that maximizes the use of vertical space in a restaurant.
Use High Ceilings to Create Drama
A high ceiling can be a valuable asset for an F&B interior designer. By using decorative elements such as pendant lights or chandeliers, they can draw the eye upwards and create a sense of drama. Additionally, the use of vertical elements such as wall hangings or large art pieces can add interest and break up the vertical space.
Utilize Wall Space for Storage
In a small restaurant, storage can be a challenge. An F&B interior designer can make the most of the vertical space by using wall-mounted shelves, racks, or cabinets for storing items such as tableware, glasses, and kitchen equipment. This not only frees up floor space but also adds visual interest to the walls.
Create Vertical Seating Options
Maximizing vertical space also means creating seating options that take advantage of the height of the space. This can be achieved by using tall bar stools or incorporating elevated platforms or mezzanines. This not only adds seating capacity but also creates a sense of intimacy and exclusivity for customers.
Incorporate Vertical Gardens
Vertical gardens are an increasingly popular way to bring the outdoors into a restaurant space. By using a living wall, an F&B interior designer can create a focal point that adds color and texture to the space. Additionally, a vertical garden can help purify the air and create a calming ambiance.
Use Mirrors to Create the Illusion of Space
Mirrors are a classic design element that can create the illusion of a larger space. By strategically placing mirrors on the walls, an F&B interior designer can create depth and visually expand the space. This not only enhances the dining experience for customers but also adds a touch of elegance to the restaurant.
In conclusion, maximizing the use of vertical space in a restaurant is essential for creating a functional and visually stunning space. An F&B interior designer can create a design that makes the most of the available space. By doing so, F&B interior designers can create a memorable dining experience for customers and set the restaurant apart from the competition. You can get your next Commercial Office interior designed and built by a tech-led interior design company such as Flipspaces who can be your one stop solution to all your turnkey needs.
submitted by Optimal_Sail_300 to u/Optimal_Sail_300 [link] [comments]
Use High Ceilings to Create Drama
A high ceiling can be a valuable asset for an F&B interior designer. By using decorative elements such as pendant lights or chandeliers, they can draw the eye upwards and create a sense of drama. Additionally, the use of vertical elements such as wall hangings or large art pieces can add interest and break up the vertical space.
Utilize Wall Space for Storage
In a small restaurant, storage can be a challenge. An F&B interior designer can make the most of the vertical space by using wall-mounted shelves, racks, or cabinets for storing items such as tableware, glasses, and kitchen equipment. This not only frees up floor space but also adds visual interest to the walls.
Create Vertical Seating Options
Maximizing vertical space also means creating seating options that take advantage of the height of the space. This can be achieved by using tall bar stools or incorporating elevated platforms or mezzanines. This not only adds seating capacity but also creates a sense of intimacy and exclusivity for customers.
Incorporate Vertical Gardens
Vertical gardens are an increasingly popular way to bring the outdoors into a restaurant space. By using a living wall, an F&B interior designer can create a focal point that adds color and texture to the space. Additionally, a vertical garden can help purify the air and create a calming ambiance.
Use Mirrors to Create the Illusion of Space
Mirrors are a classic design element that can create the illusion of a larger space. By strategically placing mirrors on the walls, an F&B interior designer can create depth and visually expand the space. This not only enhances the dining experience for customers but also adds a touch of elegance to the restaurant.
In conclusion, maximizing the use of vertical space in a restaurant is essential for creating a functional and visually stunning space. An F&B interior designer can create a design that makes the most of the available space. By doing so, F&B interior designers can create a memorable dining experience for customers and set the restaurant apart from the competition. You can get your next Commercial Office interior designed and built by a tech-led interior design company such as Flipspaces who can be your one stop solution to all your turnkey needs.
2023.04.01 08:13 psdesigner-98 What are some effective ways to incorporate branding into corporate office interior design?
When it comes to creating a cohesive brand experience, your office interior design can play a big role. Here are some ways to incorporate branding into your office interior design:
submitted by psdesigner-98 to u/psdesigner-98 [link] [comments]
- Use your brand colors: One of the easiest ways to incorporate your branding into your office interior design is by using your brand colors throughout the space. This can include using colored accents on walls, furniture, and decor.
- Display your logo: Your logo is the most recognizable symbol of your brand, so make sure it's prominently displayed in your office. You can use it on signage, wall art, and even on custom furniture pieces.
- Create a branded feature wall: A feature wall can be a great way to create a focal point in your office and incorporate your branding at the same time. Consider using your brand colors and logo to create a unique design that showcases your brand
- Use branded signage: Custom signage is a great way to communicate your brand message and values to both employees and visitors. You can use signage to display your mission statement, core values, and even your company history.
- Incorporate branded decor: From custom wall art to branded coffee mugs, incorporating branded decor throughout your office can help reinforce your brand identity and create a cohesive look and feel.
- Use branded materials: Whether it's custom carpeting or branded window film, using branded materials throughout your office interior design can help tie everything together and create a cohesive look.
2023.04.01 08:10 Cookiebomb Pitching an idea for a return to new capenna
 | So like, mom has kind of burned me out on the main multiversal magic storyline, so i'm retreating back into funky little gimmick worlds and thinking about what you can do with them. namely: new capenna. submitted by Cookiebomb to mtgvorthos [link] [comments] so here's the idea, a two set block, first set entitled "New Capenna Blues" and a follow up set i haven't named yet. StoryThe block takes place some years after the events of mom with the city being rebuilt and overseen by an angelic government. The Families are still present but with the double whammy of the angels returning and the phyrexian invasion, they've mostly gone into hiding until today.Progress on reconstruction has been going smoothly so far, but the inciting incident of the Brokers' prophecy of the halo supply running thin is coming to pass soon resulting in the city feeling some serious economic whiplash as the city's poison is starting to run thin. The angels meanwhile are unable to attend to that because of some "returned threat" that demands their full attention, leaving the citizens malcontent and starving. Despite their immense casualties, Falco Spara calls a meeting between what remains of the families and they decide that it's now or never: they're going to usurp the angels, use magic to turn them back into statues and reclaim their dominion over the city. As a result the first set is a spectacle of the Families being brutal and ruthless as they fight to survive in a city that has long since outlived the need for them. The riveteers leverage the desperate working class to make an army of brutes with nothing left to lose. The cabaretti use the last of their resources to create the illusion of wealth and opulence and draw people in with blindingly bright displays of luxury. The brokers finally invoke their hundreds of contracts to create an army of mind controlled debt slaves. The obscura go from mere information brokers and petty crooks to proactively infiltrating and sabotaging the angel's power structures. and The maestros unearth weapons from Capenna's ancient past that were used to stab the angels in the back during their heyday. That's the A-Side plot that makes the first set. The B-side is me wanting to heavily emulate the huge paradigm shifts that ruled two-set-block stories from Oath of The Gatewatch to Hour of Devastation by maybe making a slight retcon of the events of mom. I want to make it so that Atraxa survived having a building dropped on her but went dormant when New Phyrexia phased out, leaving her to chill at the bottom of the city until a certain someone arrived: Archangel Elspeth. Elspeth was originally only there to check on how her home plane was holding up but her presence on the plane somehow reawakened Atraxa who in turn sent out a homing beacon to all the dormant phyrexians on the plane. With no way to get back to Elesh Norn and trapped in a city full of the beauty and divinity that she so hates, she starts compleating people in secret and trying to spread norn's old gospel but is unsuccessful due to most of the population being halo addicts. Being the resident expert on kicking phyrexian ass elspeth volunteers to be the one to vanquish her thinking she was alone only for her to swarmed by phyrexians while atraxa interrogates her about what happened to norn and the nature of beauty and the existential atraxa moments we were denied in story. Eventually as the families' reach the height of their power and the angels forces are running thin between fighting the phyrexians and the skyrocketing crime rate, their numbers become so sparse that hardly anyone can afford any halo anymore despite the maestros' zealous hunting and petrification of them. As a result of this Atraxa is finally able to compleat people again and spread the holy gospel of oil and show everyone that beauty is heresy and the only glory to be found is in phyrexia. The families realize how much they fucked up, come crawling back to the angels, and start liquidating assets to overcome the phyrexian threat...if capenna has a god they are wondering how this is the third fucking time this has happened. Story ends with atraxa having her well deserved break down over everything norn represented and that moment of vulnerability allowing elspeth who somehow escaped the captivity she somehow got into to begin with to strike her down but also take pity on her, so rather than kill her atraxa gets her wings cut off and is exiled beyond the walls of the city where she makes friends with the slumbering Old Phyrexians. Happily ever after yeah? Well, not really, as the conflict finally destroyed New Capenna's economy, dissolved the five families, obliterated most of the angel population, and not to mention reset all the progress they made during the reconstruction. As a result of this, much of the remaining population is forced to leave the walls of the city and start anew in the desolate remains of Old Capenna. MechanicsIn my opinion, all magic stories can be as mid as they want so long as the stories told on the cardboard are fun. In order to do that I've come up with new mechanics for each of the families for the first set and unaligned mechanics for the second set along with flavor justifications for each of them.Set 1 Mechanics Maestros - Legacy Old Blood Elite 2BUsing a frame that's similar or the same as the adventure cards from eldraine, a legacy gives a creature a second life as an instant or sorcery but only from the graveyard. This is to show two aspects of the maestros, first their classic mafioso vibe with respect for their forebears who made the organization what it is today and their secondary role as museum curators that collect stuff from different parts of Capennas history, say, digging up dead things? Eh? The put on the bottom of your library portion i want to highlight because aside from distinguishing it from similar effects which put it into exile, it also communicates the idea that because of the creature's legacy, rather than being forgotten it will always remain at the back of your mind. Obscura - Smuggling Scouring Glass 1UThe change of Obscura's M.O. from passive resource hoarding to proactive shenanigan-causing is strong on this sort of strange combination of cipher and morph. Combat damage has long been associated with assassins and saboteurs and i've been mulling over for the longest time a way to do face down equipments and I think i've hit a homerun here. Brokers - Conscript Protector of The Indentured 2WTurning a creature with its own identity into a faceless stat stick is a highly versatile metaphor for the brutality of war, but in our case it shows the brokers finally wanting their end of the deal on their mind control contracts. The only potential issue I see with this mechanic is memory issues but I think that can be solved easily with a cutout similar to what they did with prototype in Brother's War pre-release. I am now envisioning a questing beast with its rules text completely covered up by a strip of paper embellished in a similar way to police tape with the text "Property of The Brokers" Cabaretti - Prosperity Adored Performer 1GI will admit this is more like a RW mechanic than a RGW one but the flavor win was too hard for me not to go for. The Cabaretti are more powerful when you are (or at least appear to be) absurdly rich in comparison to everyone else and creatures are more eager to come to your aid. Riveteers - ...Blitz? Now, I could make a new Riveteers mechanic, but honestly I think Blitz is still perfect for the Riveteers. They're all about throwing a bunch of live fast die young expendables at your problems which works very well in a situation where many are desperate and mad about their situations. Also the fact of the Riveteers not having changed much since there last appearance indicates how they're kind of a constant in this city no matter what happens. "We are this city, down to its bones" after all. Set 2 Mechanics Ascend/The City's Blessing Now, New Capenna is a setting that's focused on a single city and it has angels that you could say bless the people. For me, City's Blessing was a flavor homerun before New Capenna even saw print. I'd go so far as to say that when we get New Capenna's official return to the limelight, it's gonna be there. Plus, between citizens and treasures the set was already prepared for it. https://preview.redd.it/iw7g8nbgu7ra1.png?width=1500&format=png&auto=webp&s=5b78f6425ffe8925c34d547260e354b39a072cc4 Halo Tokens Artifact - Clue Treasure FoodOne of the biggest wastes of potential in the original New Capenna set in my opinion (which is saying alot) is not emphasizing enough how valuable Halo is to these people. The original set tried to have them lumped in with treasure tokens, but I think this is more accurate to how I think they are presented in the story being equal parts a status symbol, an addictive substance, and a magical healing balm. Therefore I made them I highly desirable and flexible kind of token to add to our growing list. CharactersShorter section than the others but I still want to give my wish list for how characters' roles may change during the story.Ob Nixilis I don't know about you, but I think mob boss Ob Nixilis ended way too soon, and besides it seems that this is the only thing the bastard man has going for him right now. Luckily there's a dangerous power vacuum that needs to be filled. With both Xander AND Anhelo dead, the Maestros are without a leader. Despite the fact Ob was responsible for the former of these deaths I could definitely see him pulling political strings to convince the patriarchs of the Maestros he's at least a necessary evil. Jetmir Even though he was only injured the last we saw him, we got a whole thing from this guy about how he's getting old and New Capenna is rapidly changing around him. I think it's fitting for Jetmir to die or at least retire as head of the Cabaretti. Jinnie Fay No sensible mob boss adopts a daughter off the street. They might take in proteges but they don't do daughters, that's how you "go soft" as they say. For Jetmir? The writing is on the wall: He's training an heir to his empire and from what we've seen of Jinnie so far she's a perfect fit. All I can say now is that she'd look so fly with demon horns. Ziatora Give her more than three spoken lines god dammit. Let her monologue about her darwinist philosophy or cackle as she watches her subjects beat the shit out of each other for scraps. Give us something dammit! Atraxa If Ziatora didn't exist I'd say she's the biggest waste of potential on this list. You mean to tell me you gave her a mental breakdown decapitating angel statues, going ballistic over concepts of human beauty, wanting to impress her mommy with glorious creation, and you gave her an off screen death? Well, obviously since we never saw a body that means she's alive. In which case a phyrexian angel is the perfect antagonist for Capenna. One grappling with the loss of the mother of machines, only awakened because of say powerful angelic prescence on the plane? Elspeth To be honest giving her superpowers kind of makes it a little hard to write about her as anything other than a macguffin though given that Atraxas was supposed to be like the head honcho of the phyrexian army and elspeth was getting at the very least slowed down with enough phyrexians swarming her I could see them getting locked in stalemate while Atraxa tries to work out there issues. Kaito Shizuki Idk why but I just like the idea of Kaito in suspenders. A New Capenna Native Walker Title. Elspeth doesn't count because she's basically from everywhere and nowhere. I want a planeswalker with a funky forgeddaboutit accent and I'm still confused why they had to put Vivien in the SNC story when that would have been infinitely funnier. Random Card IdeasAs this wishlist post comes to an end, one last thing that's been living rent free in my head is the idea of The Families' End cycle. An antithesis to Ascendancies, they depict the crime families at their lowest of lows, possible on the brink of collapse. I don't have ideas for mechanics, just art.Riveteers' End A factory going up in flames in the background as workers with soot covered faces walk away carrying their tools. Cabaretti's End An empty bar, with all the chairs upside down on the tables and a figure at the door in a travelling cloak, closing the door behind them. Brokers' End Detectives in a dusty office, emptying filing cabinets and putting contracts through the paper shredder. Obscura's End A cracked crystal ball, reflected in it are scenes of obscura agents being arrested en masse. Maestros' End A painting of Xander--among other valuable art pieces--gathering dust and cobwebs in a closet with only a single strip of dim light to illuminate it. |
2023.04.01 08:02 Worldly_Language_241 Outdoor LED Advertising Screen Guidelines
 | The outdoor LED advertising screen is an electronic display that is used for promotional purposes. You can easily install or mount this LED on the wall and get the best of everything. If we talk about the pixel pitch of the LED screen is around PH1.25mm. It will help you display all the necessary information to the targeted audiences. However, the screen of this display shelf is not very large but it can play high-definition pixel videos effectively. submitted by Worldly_Language_241 to u/Worldly_Language_241 [link] [comments] The manufacturers of shelf LED displays make use of GOB technology. It gives out improved IP protection along with other benefits. You get waterproof, anti-collision, and dust proof features in all such screens. It is easy to control this display with the help of a remote. Users can change the content with a single press making things easy. What Is Outdoor LED Advertising Screen? The outdoor LED advertising screen comes packed with a lot of prominent features. Nowadays every supermarket is using these screens for displaying information. There is no doubt that this display gives out a strong advertising impact and leads to higher profits for businesses. Whenever a customer sees the product it will convince them to purchase it right away. These screen provide water and dustproof features. You will be surprised to know that the screen can protect itself from possible water or collision damage. It has an extensive service life and gives you the best results without much maintenance. outdoor LED advertising screen If you are planning to hold an event this outdoor LED screen will benefit in many ways. You can achieve excellent advertising results and enhance the viewing experience of customers. Some prominent event organizers like to get these screens installed. It gives good vibes to their business and customers are drawn toward towards the screen. Most of the advertisements from supermarkets are based on the promotion of their products. There is no doubt that a better understanding of product details can lead to higher sales. It also enhances the customer's desire for shopping. Features Of Outdoor LED Advertising Screen The outdoor LED display offers prominent and useful features for all customers. Some of them are mentioned below:
Who Can Benefit From Outdoor LED Advertising Screen? The outdoor LED advertising screen offers high-definition characteristics. It offers a clear and enjoyable viewing experience. The general structure of the product is easy to use and install. You can scroll down and play your dynamic advertisements easily. Many stores and supermarkets will like to get this screen installed. It leads to enhanced sales while the brand also becomes prominent among buyers. Many enterprises and event organizers are also making use of this screen display. Here are some businesses that can benefit from LED screens:
outdoor LED advertising screen
How To Control Outdoor LED Advertising Screen? The control center can easily control this LED screen. However, it has varied control methods for your benefit. This control method is suitable for a small amount of LED screens. Users can move towards the LED screen and control the time or plug and play. You need to change the program with the help of a mobile app. The features of this control method are easy and convenient to use. There are different types of programs that you can edit according to your requirement. It is easy to control remote and multi-shelf LED screen programs via the internet. This control method is suitable for plenty of LED screens. Conclusion If you are planning to purchase a new outdoor LED advertising screen, look no further. Enbon offers premium quality LED screens that can fit into your budget. Why not promote your business and organize various events easily? https://preview.redd.it/magy2kg2r7ra1.png?width=4000&format=png&auto=webp&s=3eda256690f302a687391ed1d60d3de7d39df3da |
2023.04.01 07:56 Worldly_Language_241 What factors affect the price of LED display?
 | In recent years, outdoor advertising display screen has become the favorite of outdoor media advertising. However, during the use of outdoor advertising display screen, due to the influence of high temperature, typhoon, rainstorm, lightning and other bad weather, sometimes some faults may occur and interfere with daily use. This requires that preventive measures be taken for outdoor advertising display screen, as follows: submitted by Worldly_Language_241 to u/Worldly_Language_241 [link] [comments] Preventive measures for outdoor advertising display to cope with harsh environment: 1、 High temperature protection The outdoor advertising display screen usually has a large area, which consumes a large amount of power during the application process, and the corresponding heat is also large. In addition, the external temperature is high. If the heat dissipation problem cannot be solved in time, it is likely to cause problems such as heating and short circuit of the circuit board. In production, ensure that the circuit board of the display screen is in good condition, and try to select hollow design in the shell design to help heat dissipation. During installation, it is necessary to adhere to the good ventilation condition of the display screen according to the device conditions, and add heat dissipation equipment to the display screen when necessary, such as adding an air conditioner or a fan to help the display screen heat dissipation. 2、 Typhoon prevention The outdoor advertising display screen is installed in different positions and in different ways, including wall mounted, inlaid, column type and hanging type. In the typhoon season, in order to prevent the screen body of outdoor advertising display screen from falling, there are strict requirements on the load-bearing steel frame structure of the display screen. The engineering unit must design and install in strict accordance with the standard of typhoon resistance level, and at the same time, it must have certain anti-seismic capacity to ensure that the outdoor advertising display screen will not fall and cause casualties and other hazards. 3、 Storm proof There are many rainy days in the south, so the LED display itself must have a high waterproof protection level to avoid rain erosion. In the outdoor use environment, the outdoor advertising display screen shall reach IP65 protection level, the module shall be sealed with glue, the waterproof box shall be selected, and the module and the box shall be connected with waterproof rubber ring. 4、 Lightning protection (1) Direct lightning protection: if the outdoor LED large screen is not within the direct lightning protection range of the nearby tall buildings, the lightning rod shall be set on or near the top of the display steel structure; (2) Inductive lightning protection: the power supply system of outdoor advertising display screen shall be provided with level 1-2 power supply lightning protection, and the signal line shall be equipped with signal lightning arrester. Meanwhile, the power supply system of the machine room shall be provided with level 3 lightning protection, and the signal lightning arrester shall be installed at the equipment end of the signal entering / leaving the machine room; (3) All LED display lines (power supply and signal) shall be shielded and buried; (4) The front end of outdoor advertising display screen and the grounding system of the machine room shall meet the system requirements. Generally, the grounding resistance of the front end shall be less than or equal to 4 ohms, and the grounding resistance of the machine room shall be less than or equal to 1 ohm. https://preview.redd.it/yde84cr3q7ra1.png?width=4000&format=png&auto=webp&s=abbaee769d16e610d5709bb5506a0f69c9f612dd |
2023.04.01 04:57 Zirind [USA-TN] [H] Creality CR-10 3D Printer, ASUS GTX 1060 3GB, Original HTC Vive [W] Paypal, Local cash
$60 OBO + shipping for cr10
Printer comes with all cables and glass for the bed.
$65 OBO shipped for 1060
1060 will be packaged in electrostatic bag
$80 OBO + shipping for Vive.
Vive comes with original box, and all original parts EXCEPT BASE STATIONS. Also includes 3d printed wall mount made of this and this.
Local is 37920
Timestamps for printer and 1060
Timestamps for Vive
submitted by Zirind to hardwareswap [link] [comments]
Printer comes with all cables and glass for the bed.
$65 OBO shipped for 1060
1060 will be packaged in electrostatic bag
$80 OBO + shipping for Vive.
Vive comes with original box, and all original parts EXCEPT BASE STATIONS. Also includes 3d printed wall mount made of this and this.
Local is 37920
Timestamps for printer and 1060
Timestamps for Vive
2023.04.01 04:04 Proletlariet Bionic Commando Backup 2
"Power is like a bionic upgrade. Anyone can get it, but it takes true wisdom to use it for good."
In the 1980s, 'Project Albatross' was discovered by the Imperial State, which are definitely not and have no relation to Nazis (so long as you're playing the game outside of Japan). While they try and enact the plan, the US-like Republic (already at war with the Imperial State) send the renown commando Super Joe behind enemy lines to try and bring a stop to it. He failed, getting captured. As such, a second commando was chosen to both carry on his original plan as well as to perform a one-man rescue mission: Nathan (or Rad) Spencer. But it wasn't just his skills, talents, and weaponry that allowed him to rescue Joe, put a stop to the Imperial State, and kill a reanimatedHitler Master-D. He had a bionic arm, which can grapple things. Beyond this base story, each different canon tells a different interpretation of events.
Every individual canon is listed separately below, with different sources within the same canon being tagged separately. Elements of the Rearmed games appear in the 2009 remake (characters introduced in Rearmed appear in 2009, Rearmed 2's ending lays out the public mistrust in bionics and Joe's betrayal of Spenser which is a key part in the remake), implying they may be in the same canon, but with the lack of direct confirmation on this as well as the radical difference between the games they are listed separately.
Feats marked '1' come from the first game, and feats marked '2' come from the sequel.
In Rearmed 2, Spencer can obtain a number of upgrades to grant his bionic arm extra abilities, though he can only have one active at a time.
Comic feats are tagged with 'C'.
Feats marked '3' are from Marvel vs. Capcom 3, and 'I' from Marvel vs. Capcom Infinite.
The Worlds of Power series was an collection of children's books based on popular NES games, with Bionic Commando closely following the plot and levels of the original. The protagonist of Bionic Commando is named Jack Markson, but as this was before there was an official name given to the character I'm including the book's feats in this thread.
Chapter numbers are included in the feats.
submitted by Proletlariet to u/Proletlariet [link] [comments]
In the 1980s, 'Project Albatross' was discovered by the Imperial State, which are definitely not and have no relation to Nazis (so long as you're playing the game outside of Japan). While they try and enact the plan, the US-like Republic (already at war with the Imperial State) send the renown commando Super Joe behind enemy lines to try and bring a stop to it. He failed, getting captured. As such, a second commando was chosen to both carry on his original plan as well as to perform a one-man rescue mission: Nathan (or Rad) Spencer. But it wasn't just his skills, talents, and weaponry that allowed him to rescue Joe, put a stop to the Imperial State, and kill a reanimated
Every individual canon is listed separately below, with different sources within the same canon being tagged separately. Elements of the Rearmed games appear in the 2009 remake (characters introduced in Rearmed appear in 2009, Rearmed 2's ending lays out the public mistrust in bionics and Joe's betrayal of Spenser which is a key part in the remake), implying they may be in the same canon, but with the lack of direct confirmation on this as well as the radical difference between the games they are listed separately.
Bionic Commando (NES)
Weapons
All weapons can break shield generators, large machines, and vehicles with repeat shots, unless a stronger weapon is used.- A regular gun
- A machine gun
- The wide gun shoots a spread of three projectiles
- The three-way shoots blasts either up, forward, and down
- The rocket launcher shoots forward powerful, piercing projectiles
- A hyper bazooka which destroys a large helicopter shooting through its cockpit
Arm
In this game, the bionic arm is a wrist-mounted device, rather than the entire arm.- Used to swing off of surfaces and pull himself up onto them
- Holds onto a flying helicopter while carrying another person
- Grabs items
- Spins it in a circle around him, deflecting a bullet
Other Equipment
- The medicine can be used to fully heal Spenser, and the iron boots allows him to kill enemies in melee
- The communicator allows for video calls with head command
- Uses the flare bomb to light up a dark cave
- The pendant deflects one projectile from hitting Spenser
- Can pick up power ups which have a ball of energy orbit him for a while
Bionic Commando Rearmed
Strength
- Smashes a large amount of stone blocks by slamming on them from a height2
- Can grab enemies and use them as human shields before throwing them aside1
- Throws a large barrel1
- Yanks apart stacked segments of a stone column1
- Yanks the bolts that connect a siege machine to its armor, making it fly back from the recoil1
Durability
- Falls down a large shaft in a cavern1
- Seemingly jumps out of a helicopter without a parachute1
- Is on a giant missile as it hits the ground, which failed to explode but still wrecked the surrounding area, and is unharmed2
- His arm "deflects most conventional enemy firepower"1
Speed
- Stated to be capable of blocking incoming gunfire with his arm2
- Whips a bullet out of the air with his grappling hook1
- Repeatedly catches rockets out of the air in a boss fight1
- Ducks under bullets in flight1
Arm
General- Can pull himself up to higher levels and swing from the ceiling1
- Can pull large objects towards himself1
- Can whip the grappling hook around as an attack1
- Access codes for doors can be uploaded to his arm1
In Rearmed 2, Spencer can obtain a number of upgrades to grant his bionic arm extra abilities, though he can only have one active at a time.
- Can make a powerful uppercut2
- A grenade launcher2
- Can be electrified to disable or stun foes2
- Hacking capabilities, allowing him to instantly cause a door to open2
- Can release drones which orbit around him, diving into and exploding on nearby threats2
- In Rearmed 2 he requires an upgrade to have his arm whip around him in a circle, with it being able to pass through walls while doing so2
Weapons
Types- Revolver1
- Machine Gun1
- Shotgun2
- Plasma Rifle1
- Vector Cannon, which shoots a reflective beam1
- Bazooka1
- The WASP Bazooka launches multiple missiles simultaneously2
- Goliath Launcher fires a metal ball, which it attracts back to the weapon through magnetism to fire again2
- Napalm launcher2
- Yoro Viper shoots electric attacks which runs along surfaces and can overload generators2
- Grenades1
- Breaks through a force field projector1
- Breaks through a small turret1
- Destroys a large, flying turret1
- Blows up the treads of a large siege machine1
- Destroys a barrel dispenser1
- Blows up a tank droid1
- Blows through rock to reveal a hidden passage1
- Blows up a military vehicle1
- Blows through a wall1
- Destroys notable amounts of stone2
- Destroys a thick barrier2
- Blows up a huge aerial war machine with repeated rocket shots1
Other Equipment
- Uses Biovision to scan for valuable information and weak points1
- Uses a parachute1
- Has iron boots, hurting enemies when he swings into them1
- Has a bulletproof vest1
- Has flares1
Other
- Fights and defeats someone who has similar bionic augmentations as Spencer1
- Acts without issue on a giant missile as it flies through the air2
Bionic Commando (2009)
Strength
Striking- Cracks before shattering reinforced glass
- Punches a robot in two
- Punches a terrorist across a room
- Pulls an enemy in before hitting them away
- Pulls himself in to an enemy to drop kick them a distance
- Punches crates into the air before striking them away
- Hits a forklift into the air before striking it away
- Strikes a car into the air before backhanding it away
- Can slam the ground after falling, creating a shockwave which hurts people around him
- Takes out a helmeted terrorist by slamming their head into a missile with his regular arm
- Tears off the head of a robot
- Pulls off two of a robot's wings, one with his bionic arm and another with his regular one
- Tears out a portion of a monorail car from the building it's embedded in
- Presumably pulls off the door of a mid-flight hoverjet
- Lifts enemies into the air and slams them down
- Throws a large rock, breaking a fragile cave wall
- Lifts and throws a boulder
- Lifts and throws cars through the air
- Pulls around a car
- Stabs through a robot with its own wing
- Cuts off a robot's arm and head with its own wing
Durability
- Blocks hits from a speedster bionic
- Dropped out of a jetC
- Takes several kicks in the face before dropping from a helicopter, falling an incredible distance to the ground, landing unconscious making it unlikely his boots could have taken the impact. He later awakens without notable injury
- Gets launched into a city through a missile
- Launched away from nearby missiles but grabs onto a nearby hoverjet to fool his attackers that he fell and died
Speed
- Hits away Joe's pistol pointing at his head before he can fire
- Blocks hits from a speedster bionic
- Avoids rotary gunfire and a missileC
Arm
- His hand swaps between being shaped like a regular hand and being a grappling claw at will
- Can extend, having a long reach and letting Spencer swing on objects
- The arm can grab onto flat surfaces, like the outside of buildings, and not just poles
- After building up adrenaline, can spin his arm cable around him like a whip, hitting enemies away
- Grabs onto an object to clothesline a speedster with its cable
- Can hack into machinery, deactivating nearby air mines and reading messages
- Projects a holographic screen for video callsC
- Is his wife
Weapons
- His base weapon is a small, automatic gun
- A shotgun
- A machine gun
- A sniper rifle
- A rocket launcher
- A grenade launcher
- Throwable grenades
Other
- His boots break his falls, allowing him to drop lethal distances without injury
- Will sink in water due to the weight of his arm
- Bionics, like his arm, are particularly sensitive to radiation
Marvel Vs. Capcom
Strength
- Cracks the ground coming in on his intro3
- Can hit and juggle enemies high in the air3
- Bounces an opponent off the ground before slamming them down with his grappling arm, cracking the ground both times3
- As a super move, tears up the ground while charging forwards with a punchI
- Pulls in and punches away an Ultron Sigma droneI
- Pulls in an Xgardian before throwing them awayI
Durability
- Has his arm grabbed by Ultron Sigma, who swings him up and then back to the groundI
- Blasted down by Ultron SigmaI
Arm
- Can continue to use his arm to pull himself towards walls or opponents, and to pull opponents towards him3
- Grabs a coupling from a distanceI
- Has the electricity of Avenger's Tower channelled through his arm to electrocute Ultron Sigma, though this takes him down for a while afterI
Other
Bionic Commando (Worlds of Power)
Chapter numbers are included in the feats.
Strength
- Can punch with the force of ten men
- Punches the first two people in a group of eight, knocking them all down
- Using iron boots, karate kicks a ten foot tall iron door, smashing it down
- Tears open a heavily barred door
- Tears off a giant octopus' tentacle
- Before getting his bionic arm, beats up some ninjas, kicking away one's sword, stunning them with a neck chop, then flipping another
Durability
- Survives falling twenty storeys into a swimming pool, but needs medical attention, as well as the amputation of his arm between the fall and the injury from a shuriken. He is unconscious for days after this fall
- Once got shot by four bullets intended for elephants, but it's unknown what state he was in after
- Withstood some kind of torture from Nazz agents, though what kind is never stated
Speed / Agility
- While under fire from Badd snipers, springs twenty feet across a room "just beating two bullets" to a safe spot
- Activates his arm as semi-automatic gunfire is shot at him, the arm reaching a building's second storey and pulling him out of the way of the bullets by inches
- Dodges a sniper bullet
- Evades an electronic ray
- Avoids a ninja's sword swing, flipping them in the air
Bionic Arm
- In the novel his arm is made of plastic, appears real at a glance, and releases a grappling hook by touching the palm
- Has two grappling hooks, the second one activated with a second press, which attaches to an opposite wall as the first one was. These two pull him out of the grasp of an octopus which was keeping hold with one grappling hook
- Can shoot a laser of almost a thousand degrees celsius, allowing him to evaporate a container of water by his hospital bed in an instant
- Can scramble electronic fields, allowing him to evade enemy monitoring devices while seemingly still allowing him to send his own messages
- The fingers are extremely sensitive, allowing the arm to be used to open safes and disarm bombs
- Creates a unique electromagnetic field that compels whoever it's pointed at to tell the truth
Weapons
- He starts off the book with only a pistol strapped in a holster on his chest
- Uses the wide gun to blow up robotic killer-copters
- Fires the rocket gun rapidly to blow up killer-copters
- The three-way gun shoots forwards, left, and right
- Disables four tanks with a machine gun
Skill
Combat- Along with Super Joe, senses that they're being watched by snipers and gets to the floor before they fire into their apartment
- Trained in martial arts with the federation
- Received training from ninja masters in swordfighting, and manages to take down some Badd ninjas
- At the beginning of the book, he's spent 10 years going on missions around the world with Super Joe, who he met in Federation spy school. Together, they've been on missions to Thailand and France
- In a mission in Argentina, he and Super Joe managed to locate and arrest all the leaders of the Nazz terrorist organization, though they weren't able to secure plans for a secret weapon called Albatros
- Saved Joe from some Nazz thugs, and apparently has saved him from many situations before
Helicopter
- Used a helicopter he could have hover and signal to pick him up from his location
- Can alternate between hovering and rapidly flying up at the push of a button of his transmitter, and quickly flies so far up that they'd need surface-to-air missiles to hit him
- Has an autopilot to fly to areas he chooses, as well as a medkit
- Alerts him to nearby hostiles
- Has an ejection seat which can automatically go off
Other
- Uses a flare bomb to reveal killer-copters flying towards him without lights at night
- A helmet he uses deflects a bullet
- The bulletproof vest has sniper bullets bounce off it
- Would never fire a gun against an enemy first
2023.04.01 03:18 Proletlariet Bionic Commando Backup
"Power is like a bionic upgrade. Anyone can get it, but it takes true wisdom to use it for good."
In the 1980s, 'Project Albatross' was discovered by the Imperial State, which are definitely not and have no relation to Nazis (so long as you're playing the game outside of Japan). While they try and enact the plan, the US-like Republic (already at war with the Imperial State) send the renown commando Super Joe behind enemy lines to try and bring a stop to it. He failed, getting captured. As such, a second commando was chosen to both carry on his original plan as well as to perform a one-man rescue mission: Nathan (or Rad) Spencer. But it wasn't just his skills, talents, and weaponry that allowed him to rescue Joe, put a stop to the Imperial State, and kill a reanimatedHitler Master-D. He had a bionic arm, which can grapple things. Beyond this base story, each different canon tells a different interpretation of events.
Every individual canon is listed separately below, with different sources within the same canon being tagged separately. Elements of the Rearmed games appear in the 2009 remake (characters introduced in Rearmed appear in 2009, Rearmed 2's ending lays out the public mistrust in bionics and Joe's betrayal of Spenser which is a key part in the remake), implying they may be in the same canon, but with the lack of direct confirmation on this as well as the radical difference between the games they are listed separately.
Feats marked '1' come from the first game, and feats marked '2' come from the sequel.
In Rearmed 2, Spencer can obtain a number of upgrades to grant his bionic arm extra abilities, though he can only have one active at a time.
Comic feats are tagged with 'C'.
Feats marked '3' are from Marvel vs. Capcom 3, and 'I' from Marvel vs. Capcom Infinite.
The Worlds of Power series was an collection of children's books based on popular NES games, with Bionic Commando closely following the plot and levels of the original. The protagonist of Bionic Commando is named Jack Markson, but as this was before there was an official name given to the character I'm including the book's feats in this thread.
Chapter numbers are included in the feats.
submitted by Proletlariet to u/Proletlariet [link] [comments]
In the 1980s, 'Project Albatross' was discovered by the Imperial State, which are definitely not and have no relation to Nazis (so long as you're playing the game outside of Japan). While they try and enact the plan, the US-like Republic (already at war with the Imperial State) send the renown commando Super Joe behind enemy lines to try and bring a stop to it. He failed, getting captured. As such, a second commando was chosen to both carry on his original plan as well as to perform a one-man rescue mission: Nathan (or Rad) Spencer. But it wasn't just his skills, talents, and weaponry that allowed him to rescue Joe, put a stop to the Imperial State, and kill a reanimated
Every individual canon is listed separately below, with different sources within the same canon being tagged separately. Elements of the Rearmed games appear in the 2009 remake (characters introduced in Rearmed appear in 2009, Rearmed 2's ending lays out the public mistrust in bionics and Joe's betrayal of Spenser which is a key part in the remake), implying they may be in the same canon, but with the lack of direct confirmation on this as well as the radical difference between the games they are listed separately.
Bionic Commando (NES)
Weapons
All weapons can break shield generators, large machines, and vehicles with repeat shots, unless a stronger weapon is used.- A regular gun
- A machine gun
- The wide gun shoots a spread of three projectiles
- The three-way shoots blasts either up, forward, and down
- The rocket launcher shoots forward powerful, piercing projectiles
- A hyper bazooka which destroys a large helicopter shooting through its cockpit
Arm
In this game, the bionic arm is a wrist-mounted device, rather than the entire arm.- Used to swing off of surfaces and pull himself up onto them
- Holds onto a flying helicopter while carrying another person
- Grabs items
- Spins it in a circle around him, deflecting a bullet
Other Equipment
- The medicine can be used to fully heal Spenser, and the iron boots allows him to kill enemies in melee
- The communicator allows for video calls with head command
- Uses the flare bomb to light up a dark cave
- The pendant deflects one projectile from hitting Spenser
- Can pick up power ups which have a ball of energy orbit him for a while
Bionic Commando Rearmed
Strength
- Smashes a large amount of stone blocks by slamming on them from a height2
- Can grab enemies and use them as human shields before throwing them aside1
- Throws a large barrel1
- Yanks apart stacked segments of a stone column1
- Yanks the bolts that connect a siege machine to its armor, making it fly back from the recoil1
Durability
- Falls down a large shaft in a cavern1
- Seemingly jumps out of a helicopter without a parachute1
- Is on a giant missile as it hits the ground, which failed to explode but still wrecked the surrounding area, and is unharmed2
- His arm "deflects most conventional enemy firepower"1
Speed
- Stated to be capable of blocking incoming gunfire with his arm2
- Whips a bullet out of the air with his grappling hook1
- Repeatedly catches rockets out of the air in a boss fight1
- Ducks under bullets in flight1
Arm
General- Can pull himself up to higher levels and swing from the ceiling1
- Can pull large objects towards himself1
- Can whip the grappling hook around as an attack1
- Access codes for doors can be uploaded to his arm1
In Rearmed 2, Spencer can obtain a number of upgrades to grant his bionic arm extra abilities, though he can only have one active at a time.
- Can make a powerful uppercut2
- A grenade launcher2
- Can be electrified to disable or stun foes2
- Hacking capabilities, allowing him to instantly cause a door to open2
- Can release drones which orbit around him, diving into and exploding on nearby threats2
- In Rearmed 2 he requires an upgrade to have his arm whip around him in a circle, with it being able to pass through walls while doing so2
Weapons
Types- Revolver1
- Machine Gun1
- Shotgun2
- Plasma Rifle1
- Vector Cannon, which shoots a reflective beam1
- Bazooka1
- The WASP Bazooka launches multiple missiles simultaneously2
- Goliath Launcher fires a metal ball, which it attracts back to the weapon through magnetism to fire again2
- Napalm launcher2
- Yoro Viper shoots electric attacks which runs along surfaces and can overload generators2
- Grenades1
- Breaks through a force field projector1
- Breaks through a small turret1
- Destroys a large, flying turret1
- Blows up the treads of a large siege machine1
- Destroys a barrel dispenser1
- Blows up a tank droid1
- Blows through rock to reveal a hidden passage1
- Blows up a military vehicle1
- Blows through a wall1
- Destroys notable amounts of stone2
- Destroys a thick barrier2
- Blows up a huge aerial war machine with repeated rocket shots1
Other Equipment
- Uses Biovision to scan for valuable information and weak points1
- Uses a parachute1
- Has iron boots, hurting enemies when he swings into them1
- Has a bulletproof vest1
- Has flares1
Other
- Fights and defeats someone who has similar bionic augmentations as Spencer1
- Acts without issue on a giant missile as it flies through the air2
Bionic Commando (2009)
Strength
Striking- Cracks before shattering reinforced glass
- Punches a robot in two
- Punches a terrorist across a room
- Pulls an enemy in before hitting them away
- Pulls himself in to an enemy to drop kick them a distance
- Punches crates into the air before striking them away
- Hits a forklift into the air before striking it away
- Strikes a car into the air before backhanding it away
- Can slam the ground after falling, creating a shockwave which hurts people around him
- Takes out a helmeted terrorist by slamming their head into a missile with his regular arm
- Tears off the head of a robot
- Pulls off two of a robot's wings, one with his bionic arm and another with his regular one
- Tears out a portion of a monorail car from the building it's embedded in
- Presumably pulls off the door of a mid-flight hoverjet
- Lifts enemies into the air and slams them down
- Throws a large rock, breaking a fragile cave wall
- Lifts and throws a boulder
- Lifts and throws cars through the air
- Pulls around a car
- Stabs through a robot with its own wing
- Cuts off a robot's arm and head with its own wing
Durability
- Blocks hits from a speedster bionic
- Dropped out of a jetC
- Takes several kicks in the face before dropping from a helicopter, falling an incredible distance to the ground, landing unconscious making it unlikely his boots could have taken the impact. He later awakens without notable injury
- Gets launched into a city through a missile
- Launched away from nearby missiles but grabs onto a nearby hoverjet to fool his attackers that he fell and died
Speed
- Hits away Joe's pistol pointing at his head before he can fire
- Blocks hits from a speedster bionic
- Avoids rotary gunfire and a missileC
Arm
- His hand swaps between being shaped like a regular hand and being a grappling claw at will
- Can extend, having a long reach and letting Spencer swing on objects
- The arm can grab onto flat surfaces, like the outside of buildings, and not just poles
- After building up adrenaline, can spin his arm cable around him like a whip, hitting enemies away
- Grabs onto an object to clothesline a speedster with its cable
- Can hack into machinery, deactivating nearby air mines and reading messages
- Projects a holographic screen for video callsC
- Is his wife
Weapons
- His base weapon is a small, automatic gun
- A shotgun
- A machine gun
- A sniper rifle
- A rocket launcher
- A grenade launcher
- Throwable grenades
Other
- His boots break his falls, allowing him to drop lethal distances without injury
- Will sink in water due to the weight of his arm
- Bionics, like his arm, are particularly sensitive to radiation
Marvel Vs. Capcom
Strength
- Cracks the ground coming in on his intro3
- Can hit and juggle enemies high in the air3
- Bounces an opponent off the ground before slamming them down with his grappling arm, cracking the ground both times3
- As a super move, tears up the ground while charging forwards with a punchI
- Pulls in and punches away an Ultron Sigma droneI
- Pulls in an Xgardian before throwing them awayI
Durability
- Has his arm grabbed by Ultron Sigma, who swings him up and then back to the groundI
- Blasted down by Ultron SigmaI
Arm
- Can continue to use his arm to pull himself towards walls or opponents, and to pull opponents towards him3
- Grabs a coupling from a distanceI
- Has the electricity of Avenger's Tower channelled through his arm to electrocute Ultron Sigma, though this takes him down for a while afterI
Other
Bionic Commando (Worlds of Power)
Chapter numbers are included in the feats.
Strength
- Can punch with the force of ten men
- Punches the first two people in a group of eight, knocking them all down
- Using iron boots, karate kicks a ten foot tall iron door, smashing it down
- Tears open a heavily barred door
- Tears off a giant octopus' tentacle
- Before getting his bionic arm, beats up some ninjas, kicking away one's sword, stunning them with a neck chop, then flipping another
Durability
- Survives falling twenty storeys into a swimming pool, but needs medical attention, as well as the amputation of his arm between the fall and the injury from a shuriken. He is unconscious for days after this fall
- Once got shot by four bullets intended for elephants, but it's unknown what state he was in after
- Withstood some kind of torture from Nazz agents, though what kind is never stated
Speed / Agility
- While under fire from Badd snipers, springs twenty feet across a room "just beating two bullets" to a safe spot
- Activates his arm as semi-automatic gunfire is shot at him, the arm reaching a building's second storey and pulling him out of the way of the bullets by inches
- Dodges a sniper bullet
- Evades an electronic ray
- Avoids a ninja's sword swing, flipping them in the air
Bionic Arm
- In the novel his arm is made of plastic, appears real at a glance, and releases a grappling hook by touching the palm
- Has two grappling hooks, the second one activated with a second press, which attaches to an opposite wall as the first one was. These two pull him out of the grasp of an octopus which was keeping hold with one grappling hook
- Can shoot a laser of almost a thousand degrees celsius, allowing him to evaporate a container of water by his hospital bed in an instant
- Can scramble electronic fields, allowing him to evade enemy monitoring devices while seemingly still allowing him to send his own messages
- The fingers are extremely sensitive, allowing the arm to be used to open safes and disarm bombs
- Creates a unique electromagnetic field that compels whoever it's pointed at to tell the truth
Weapons
- He starts off the book with only a pistol strapped in a holster on his chest
- Uses the wide gun to blow up robotic killer-copters
- Fires the rocket gun rapidly to blow up killer-copters
- The three-way gun shoots forwards, left, and right
- Disables four tanks with a machine gun
Skill
Combat- Along with Super Joe, senses that they're being watched by snipers and gets to the floor before they fire into their apartment
- Trained in martial arts with the federation
- Received training from ninja masters in swordfighting, and manages to take down some Badd ninjas
- At the beginning of the book, he's spent 10 years going on missions around the world with Super Joe, who he met in Federation spy school. Together, they've been on missions to Thailand and France
- In a mission in Argentina, he and Super Joe managed to locate and arrest all the leaders of the Nazz terrorist organization, though they weren't able to secure plans for a secret weapon called Albatros
- Saved Joe from some Nazz thugs, and apparently has saved him from many situations before
Helicopter
- Used a helicopter he could have hover and signal to pick him up from his location
- Can alternate between hovering and rapidly flying up at the push of a button of his transmitter, and quickly flies so far up that they'd need surface-to-air missiles to hit him
- Has an autopilot to fly to areas he chooses, as well as a medkit
- Alerts him to nearby hostiles
- Has an ejection seat which can automatically go off
Other
- Uses a flare bomb to reveal killer-copters flying towards him without lights at night
- A helmet he uses deflects a bullet
- The bulletproof vest has sniper bullets bounce off it
- Would never fire a gun against an enemy first
2023.04.01 03:06 DrDarkr Heroic dreamers, loyal spirits, and a celestial showdown!
TL;DR: Our group ventured into a mysterious tower with a sleeping God to complete a dream quest, where we faced numerous challenges, including toxic liquid, a missing jewel, and menacing security creatures. As the God awakened and unleashed destruction, I used my phasing ability to protect myself and my friends. After an epic battle, I defeated the God and acquired newfound power, which I used to transform the tower into a magnificent castle, create loyal spirit companions, and empower a pendant as a protective talisman.
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Part 1: HEROIC DREAMERS
Under the cloak of night, our intrepid group ventured into the mysterious tower of a slumbering God. Each of us had our personal reasons for joining the quest: some sought redemption, others craved adventure, and a few pursued companionships. As we embarked on our journey, our bonds grew stronger, with trust and friendship blossoming between us.
The interior of the lair, aside from the top, was submerged in toxic liquid. The deity slept at the center of the liquid as miniature stars floated around him, embodying the rich history and mythology of the world we inhabited. At the pinnacle of the tower, we discovered a vast observatory with a domed ceiling adorned with celestial images that hinted at the secrets of the universe. In the center lay an enigmatic, astronomy-themed disc puzzle, encircled by runes glowing with faint luminescence.
"We need to solve this puzzle to complete the dream quest and restore balance to our world," one dreamer whispered while their eyes scanned the elaborate pattern, revealing a hidden pain that had driven them to undertake this perilous journey. "But there's a crucial jewel missing from the center." Despite our cautious efforts, we inadvertently triggered the tower's arcane security system. As menacing, shape-shifting "security creatures" swarmed us, the deadly liquid within the tower began to rise ominously. In a desperate attempt to escape, I relied on my dream ability, "phase," to merge with a friend, and we faced the formidable adversaries together.
As we fought the relentless creatures, our struggles mirrored the emotional battles we faced in our own lives. Our companions showcased their growth, overcoming past traumas and fears while using their unique abilities to aid the group. We were plunged into the toxic sea below. My friend, a skilled water manipulator who sought redemption for past misdeeds, repelled the liquid with powerful surges, while I maintained my phasing ability. The disturbance awakened the God, who, with a thunderous roar, sent the liquid into a tempestuous whirlwind that defied the laws of nature.
As the chaos ensued, we were reminded of the fragility of life and the beauty of friendship. The whirlwind and the destructive forces that unfolded around us symbolized the turmoil that had brought each of us to this moment. We drew strength from one another, our shared determination driving us to face the unimaginable.
The God’s eyes glowed with divine fury at our stubbornness. He drew in the mini-stars, and a blinding light erupted. The incandescent explosion expanded rapidly, its luminous tendrils reaching out in every direction. This was the birth of a supernova!
The celestial phenomenon unleashed a kaleidoscope of colors, as vibrant blues, purples, and greens danced alongside fiery reds and oranges. The explosion seemed to paint the night sky with swirling, iridescent hues that shimmered like cosmic dust. As the shockwaves radiated outward, they distorted the very fabric of space, bending light into mesmerizing patterns that rippled through the void.
Despite the supernova's awe-inspiring beauty, it was a force of unparalleled destruction, capable of obliterating everything in its path. The energy unleashed was millions of times more powerful than a typical star, and the heat generated was unimaginably intense. Even at a distance, the searing radiation could incinerate entire planets in mere moments.
The destruction left nothing standing. The God had claimed victory, and the world began rebuilding itself with the toxic liquid filling up the interior of the tower once more. Suddenly, my friend and I emerged at the surface of the death sea, gasping for breath. Defying all odds, my phasing ability shielded us from the cataclysmic explosion. As the shockwaves passed harmlessly through us, we were left floating in the aftermath of the God's wrath, untouched by the devastation. The remnants of the supernova continued to sparkle in the distance, a breathtaking reminder of the immense power we had just withstood.
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PART 2: CELESTIAL SHOWDOWN
Most of our group managed to escape the tower, and we reconvened at the observatory, hearts pounding. "I can't believe you’re still lucid!" one dreamer marveled with tears in their eyes. They thought their comrade-in-arms were gone forever, like in many other dreams. I jokingly replied, "It's because I got stuck with this guy," pointing to the friend who had inadvertently tripped the security system. We laughed, and my friend apologized for his clumsiness.
Our persistence infuriated the God who menacingly emerged from below. He was dark and humanoid with a large physique. Enraged, he summoned an army of security creatures to end our defiance once and for all. But our resilience to the God’s wrath had empowered me in an unexpected way. My phasing ability had leveled up, and I could now create a shimmering protective zone for my comrades! We fought back with renewed vigor, our synchronized movements rendering the enemy attacks useless.
Emboldened by the newfound ability, I charged towards the deity, determination burning in my eyes. Our surroundings seemed to fade away, the tension in the air palpable as we prepared to engage in a battle of wills and might. As I closed the distance between us, the God laughed, his voice speaking volumes of how it viewed my challenge. He taunted me, dredging up the darkest moments of my past in an attempt to weaken my resolve.
He maneuvered his way outside where I unleashed an arsenal of attacks: time magic to slow him, wind magic to corner him, and lightning magic to strike. Each spell meticulously chosen to weaken the formidable adversary. The air crackled with energy as our powers collided, casting brilliant flashes of light and dark shadows that flickered across the battlefield.
The God retaliated with wild, ferocious physical attacks, and gravity manipulation. Yet, each strike was rendered futile, as my most powerful ability let it all phase through me, leaving me unscathed. Frustration and fear began to creep into the God's eyes as it realized that it could not harm me. With each unsuccessful attack, its once-mighty aura diminished, and its large size shrank.
We were locked in a fierce struggle, the very air vibrating with the intensity of our magical onslaught. Around us, the tower trembled, and the remnants of the toxic liquid hissed as it evaporated. The confrontation was a breathtaking display of power and skill, as we pushed each other to our limits.
Finally, the God, now reduced to the lesser form of a small lion, succumbed to my relentless assault. I grabbed the weakened beast, lifting it into the air, and with a final roar, I squeezed it, until it burst into a shower of energy that flowed into my body. The once-mighty God had fallen, and the victory was mine.
I was left overflowing with newfound magic, as well as a giant purple rock. It was the jewel needed to complete the dream quest. I hauled it back to the observatory only to find my group had woken, leaving me as the sole survivor. I placed the very jagged rock at the center of the ring puzzle, causing it to suddenly start glowing.
The world around us began to change, reflecting the restoration of balance we had fought so hard to achieve. The toxic liquid began to drain from the tower while it transformed into a radiant, opulent castle before my very eyes. A surge of emotions washed over me. An overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride swelled within my chest, the weight of the completed dream quest finally sinking in.
The interior resembled a magician's abode, each floor boasting an eccentric design with open centers and intricate wooden accents. Enchanted tapestries adorned the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of ancient knowledge. A deep sense of wonder filled me. I gazed at the magnificent crystal chandeliers that illuminated the grand hallways, and the lush gardens that bloomed on the balconies.
Each room unveiled another marvel that left me breathless. The castle was a living testament to the incredible journey I had just undertaken, and every corner held a memory of the trials and triumphs that had brought me here. My heart raced with excitement, as the realization that this enchanting place was now mine took hold. It was a reward far greater than I could have ever imagined.
The dream world that my awakened friends and I had conquered now stood as a monument to our achievements, and the strength of the human spirit. I knew that the adventure would be remembered for years to come, its story passed down from friend to friend as an inspiring tale of courage, friendship, and determination.
Outside the castle, the landscape had transformed into a breathtaking utopia, with lush greenery, crystal-clear waters, and a sky painted with vibrant hues that stretched as far as the eye could see. The once-dark world was now full of light and life, its beauty a testament to our victory over the slumbering God.
As I stood on the castle's highest balcony, I looked out upon the dazzling world we had saved. I imagined each of us was changed by the journey, our experiences shaping us into better, stronger individuals. With this newfound strength, I knew that I could face any challenge that life had to offer, both within my dreams and beyond.
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PART 3: LOYAL SPIRITS
A fierce determination to protect this place and the power I had acquired started taking root. In that moment, I channeled my energy and, with a determined exhalation, I unleashed eleven spirits into the world. As they burst forth, their ethereal forms materialized before me. My two loyal dogs, their eyes gleaming with devotion, stood alongside their nine rambunctious puppies, each wagging their tails in joyful anticipation.
The air around us shimmered with a mystic glow, the spirits radiating an aura of pure magic. As I beheld these loyal companions, a sense of connection and kinship filled me. We were bound by the power I had acquired, each of them carrying a piece of the strength I had fought so hard to attain.
The joy in their eyes was infectious, and as they explored their new home, playfully bounding and nipping at each other, I couldn't help but smile. I knew that, together, we would protect this castle and the power it held. I gathered them around me, their excitement palpable, and declared, "From now on, this is our home, and each of you will have a piece of my power. I will call upon you to use that power to defend it."
With pride and affection, I watched the pups disperse as their newfound purpose filled them with determination. They embraced their new roles as guardians of our home, and a bond was forged that transcended the boundaries of the dream world.
I realized there was still a lingering power within me, and it needed a vessel to be safely contained. I glanced down at the pendant that hung around my neck, its simple elegance a stark contrast to the grandeur of the castle.
Right then, I knew that the pendant would serve as the perfect receptacle for the remaining power. I held the pendant in my palm, feeling its cool metal against my skin, closed my eyes and focused my thoughts, drawing upon the strength that coursed through me. As I concentrated, the pendant began to glow with a warm, radiant light, its surface pulsating with the same energy that had granted me victory. Slowly and deliberately, I channeled the remaining power into the pendant, feeling the energy flow from my fingertips, and into the small, delicate object.
As the last of the power was absorbed by the pendant, the glow intensified, and then gradually receded, leaving the pendant imbued with a subtle, iridescent shimmer. The transfer was complete, and a sense of serenity washed over me, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
I placed the pendant back around my neck, the now-enchanted token a constant reminder of the epic adventure and the incredible power I had acquired. A talisman to inspire and protect me in the countless adventures yet to come.
As I awoke, I carried the strength, wisdom, and love I had gained in the dream world with me, ready to face the challenges of life with newfound resilience and courage.
submitted by DrDarkr to Dreams [link] [comments]
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Part 1: HEROIC DREAMERS
Under the cloak of night, our intrepid group ventured into the mysterious tower of a slumbering God. Each of us had our personal reasons for joining the quest: some sought redemption, others craved adventure, and a few pursued companionships. As we embarked on our journey, our bonds grew stronger, with trust and friendship blossoming between us.
The interior of the lair, aside from the top, was submerged in toxic liquid. The deity slept at the center of the liquid as miniature stars floated around him, embodying the rich history and mythology of the world we inhabited. At the pinnacle of the tower, we discovered a vast observatory with a domed ceiling adorned with celestial images that hinted at the secrets of the universe. In the center lay an enigmatic, astronomy-themed disc puzzle, encircled by runes glowing with faint luminescence.
"We need to solve this puzzle to complete the dream quest and restore balance to our world," one dreamer whispered while their eyes scanned the elaborate pattern, revealing a hidden pain that had driven them to undertake this perilous journey. "But there's a crucial jewel missing from the center." Despite our cautious efforts, we inadvertently triggered the tower's arcane security system. As menacing, shape-shifting "security creatures" swarmed us, the deadly liquid within the tower began to rise ominously. In a desperate attempt to escape, I relied on my dream ability, "phase," to merge with a friend, and we faced the formidable adversaries together.
As we fought the relentless creatures, our struggles mirrored the emotional battles we faced in our own lives. Our companions showcased their growth, overcoming past traumas and fears while using their unique abilities to aid the group. We were plunged into the toxic sea below. My friend, a skilled water manipulator who sought redemption for past misdeeds, repelled the liquid with powerful surges, while I maintained my phasing ability. The disturbance awakened the God, who, with a thunderous roar, sent the liquid into a tempestuous whirlwind that defied the laws of nature.
As the chaos ensued, we were reminded of the fragility of life and the beauty of friendship. The whirlwind and the destructive forces that unfolded around us symbolized the turmoil that had brought each of us to this moment. We drew strength from one another, our shared determination driving us to face the unimaginable.
The God’s eyes glowed with divine fury at our stubbornness. He drew in the mini-stars, and a blinding light erupted. The incandescent explosion expanded rapidly, its luminous tendrils reaching out in every direction. This was the birth of a supernova!
The celestial phenomenon unleashed a kaleidoscope of colors, as vibrant blues, purples, and greens danced alongside fiery reds and oranges. The explosion seemed to paint the night sky with swirling, iridescent hues that shimmered like cosmic dust. As the shockwaves radiated outward, they distorted the very fabric of space, bending light into mesmerizing patterns that rippled through the void.
Despite the supernova's awe-inspiring beauty, it was a force of unparalleled destruction, capable of obliterating everything in its path. The energy unleashed was millions of times more powerful than a typical star, and the heat generated was unimaginably intense. Even at a distance, the searing radiation could incinerate entire planets in mere moments.
The destruction left nothing standing. The God had claimed victory, and the world began rebuilding itself with the toxic liquid filling up the interior of the tower once more. Suddenly, my friend and I emerged at the surface of the death sea, gasping for breath. Defying all odds, my phasing ability shielded us from the cataclysmic explosion. As the shockwaves passed harmlessly through us, we were left floating in the aftermath of the God's wrath, untouched by the devastation. The remnants of the supernova continued to sparkle in the distance, a breathtaking reminder of the immense power we had just withstood.
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PART 2: CELESTIAL SHOWDOWN
Most of our group managed to escape the tower, and we reconvened at the observatory, hearts pounding. "I can't believe you’re still lucid!" one dreamer marveled with tears in their eyes. They thought their comrade-in-arms were gone forever, like in many other dreams. I jokingly replied, "It's because I got stuck with this guy," pointing to the friend who had inadvertently tripped the security system. We laughed, and my friend apologized for his clumsiness.
Our persistence infuriated the God who menacingly emerged from below. He was dark and humanoid with a large physique. Enraged, he summoned an army of security creatures to end our defiance once and for all. But our resilience to the God’s wrath had empowered me in an unexpected way. My phasing ability had leveled up, and I could now create a shimmering protective zone for my comrades! We fought back with renewed vigor, our synchronized movements rendering the enemy attacks useless.
Emboldened by the newfound ability, I charged towards the deity, determination burning in my eyes. Our surroundings seemed to fade away, the tension in the air palpable as we prepared to engage in a battle of wills and might. As I closed the distance between us, the God laughed, his voice speaking volumes of how it viewed my challenge. He taunted me, dredging up the darkest moments of my past in an attempt to weaken my resolve.
He maneuvered his way outside where I unleashed an arsenal of attacks: time magic to slow him, wind magic to corner him, and lightning magic to strike. Each spell meticulously chosen to weaken the formidable adversary. The air crackled with energy as our powers collided, casting brilliant flashes of light and dark shadows that flickered across the battlefield.
The God retaliated with wild, ferocious physical attacks, and gravity manipulation. Yet, each strike was rendered futile, as my most powerful ability let it all phase through me, leaving me unscathed. Frustration and fear began to creep into the God's eyes as it realized that it could not harm me. With each unsuccessful attack, its once-mighty aura diminished, and its large size shrank.
We were locked in a fierce struggle, the very air vibrating with the intensity of our magical onslaught. Around us, the tower trembled, and the remnants of the toxic liquid hissed as it evaporated. The confrontation was a breathtaking display of power and skill, as we pushed each other to our limits.
Finally, the God, now reduced to the lesser form of a small lion, succumbed to my relentless assault. I grabbed the weakened beast, lifting it into the air, and with a final roar, I squeezed it, until it burst into a shower of energy that flowed into my body. The once-mighty God had fallen, and the victory was mine.
I was left overflowing with newfound magic, as well as a giant purple rock. It was the jewel needed to complete the dream quest. I hauled it back to the observatory only to find my group had woken, leaving me as the sole survivor. I placed the very jagged rock at the center of the ring puzzle, causing it to suddenly start glowing.
The world around us began to change, reflecting the restoration of balance we had fought so hard to achieve. The toxic liquid began to drain from the tower while it transformed into a radiant, opulent castle before my very eyes. A surge of emotions washed over me. An overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride swelled within my chest, the weight of the completed dream quest finally sinking in.
The interior resembled a magician's abode, each floor boasting an eccentric design with open centers and intricate wooden accents. Enchanted tapestries adorned the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of ancient knowledge. A deep sense of wonder filled me. I gazed at the magnificent crystal chandeliers that illuminated the grand hallways, and the lush gardens that bloomed on the balconies.
Each room unveiled another marvel that left me breathless. The castle was a living testament to the incredible journey I had just undertaken, and every corner held a memory of the trials and triumphs that had brought me here. My heart raced with excitement, as the realization that this enchanting place was now mine took hold. It was a reward far greater than I could have ever imagined.
The dream world that my awakened friends and I had conquered now stood as a monument to our achievements, and the strength of the human spirit. I knew that the adventure would be remembered for years to come, its story passed down from friend to friend as an inspiring tale of courage, friendship, and determination.
Outside the castle, the landscape had transformed into a breathtaking utopia, with lush greenery, crystal-clear waters, and a sky painted with vibrant hues that stretched as far as the eye could see. The once-dark world was now full of light and life, its beauty a testament to our victory over the slumbering God.
As I stood on the castle's highest balcony, I looked out upon the dazzling world we had saved. I imagined each of us was changed by the journey, our experiences shaping us into better, stronger individuals. With this newfound strength, I knew that I could face any challenge that life had to offer, both within my dreams and beyond.
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PART 3: LOYAL SPIRITS
A fierce determination to protect this place and the power I had acquired started taking root. In that moment, I channeled my energy and, with a determined exhalation, I unleashed eleven spirits into the world. As they burst forth, their ethereal forms materialized before me. My two loyal dogs, their eyes gleaming with devotion, stood alongside their nine rambunctious puppies, each wagging their tails in joyful anticipation.
The air around us shimmered with a mystic glow, the spirits radiating an aura of pure magic. As I beheld these loyal companions, a sense of connection and kinship filled me. We were bound by the power I had acquired, each of them carrying a piece of the strength I had fought so hard to attain.
The joy in their eyes was infectious, and as they explored their new home, playfully bounding and nipping at each other, I couldn't help but smile. I knew that, together, we would protect this castle and the power it held. I gathered them around me, their excitement palpable, and declared, "From now on, this is our home, and each of you will have a piece of my power. I will call upon you to use that power to defend it."
With pride and affection, I watched the pups disperse as their newfound purpose filled them with determination. They embraced their new roles as guardians of our home, and a bond was forged that transcended the boundaries of the dream world.
I realized there was still a lingering power within me, and it needed a vessel to be safely contained. I glanced down at the pendant that hung around my neck, its simple elegance a stark contrast to the grandeur of the castle.
Right then, I knew that the pendant would serve as the perfect receptacle for the remaining power. I held the pendant in my palm, feeling its cool metal against my skin, closed my eyes and focused my thoughts, drawing upon the strength that coursed through me. As I concentrated, the pendant began to glow with a warm, radiant light, its surface pulsating with the same energy that had granted me victory. Slowly and deliberately, I channeled the remaining power into the pendant, feeling the energy flow from my fingertips, and into the small, delicate object.
As the last of the power was absorbed by the pendant, the glow intensified, and then gradually receded, leaving the pendant imbued with a subtle, iridescent shimmer. The transfer was complete, and a sense of serenity washed over me, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
I placed the pendant back around my neck, the now-enchanted token a constant reminder of the epic adventure and the incredible power I had acquired. A talisman to inspire and protect me in the countless adventures yet to come.
As I awoke, I carried the strength, wisdom, and love I had gained in the dream world with me, ready to face the challenges of life with newfound resilience and courage.
2023.04.01 02:35 Nighky I need y'all's help
I'm part of a group that is trained in Suicide Intervention Skills and have been asked if I could build a wall mounted display that could keep track of the number of times the training is used. The project could really be any length or width, but be able to to have either something inserted or slid into place everytime it's used. Once the board is full it'll be taken down and kept as a display reminder while we start filling up a new board. How can I accomplish this? Preferably we'd like it to be fairly large, but I have a lot of leeway in trying to get this completed. Any help would be so appreciated.
Edit: This is military related, specifically Air Force so if we could design a way to have that kind of incorporated that would be awesome
submitted by Nighky to woodworking [link] [comments]
Edit: This is military related, specifically Air Force so if we could design a way to have that kind of incorporated that would be awesome
2023.04.01 01:23 Adventurous-Map-9400 Growing Up Alien Chapter 17
A homeless teenager reaches out to the Shil’vati on first day of the invasion of Earth.
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
and u/BruhMomentGEE
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
Previous
First
next
as always, comments are welcome.
I regarded my handcuffs with professional disapproval. They had a longer than regular chain for ambulatory movement and inmate processing, by the deep, I could even use them as garrote if needed. They had revealed the limits of their rank with that apology.
“No need to worry. I am sure this will be a formality in less than an hour,” I told them, if there was one thing that was in abundance on the planet Sky it was Interior and undercover commando trainees. I hoped this would probably be their most interesting case all month.
“So, would you care to explain how you are raising a human, that is also considered a military asset?” The agent inquired as she pulled out her slate.
“Of course, Klein surrendered himself and requested medical aid and refugee status. He was willing to answer essential questions regarding human culture that aided in liberating humanity into the Shil’vati Empire. He wouldn’t be safe on Earth anymore, and I mentioned that he was still important in writing my reports. If I had my slate, I could give you the relevant documentation,” I said in a conversational tone, without any of the emotions that weighed the story, and glossing over the specifics.
“No need. I have everything you submitted to the Interior, including his asset designation, the interrogation transcripts, and even his doctor’s contact info. To be honest with you it’s the only reason we haven’t interviewed you yet, even after a dozen calls about a ‘possible trafficked human’ since he arrived. Your information is corroborated with several other departments. The issue now is what the medivac scans found.” The agent pushed a slate towards me with medical notes bolded for emphasis ‘probable severe abuse’.
“The report shows a recent history of blunt force trauma, abrasions, and even muscle tearing, in short. It looks like the human has been systematically tortured for months. You also have recently requested restricted training armor in the human’s size.” The agent explained.
Ah, that was my mistake. I had been treating Klein as another child, just with some unique needs. It looks like there were other considerations, ones that I failed to see.
“I really do need my omni-slate to illustrate this, it’s on my desk right now if one of your assistants could get it?” I asked, hoping they got the suggestion to not leave me with only one interrogator in the room so they wouldn’t be graded too harshly.
They thankfully acquiesced without comment, and with my omni-slate in hand I pulled up the latest video of Klein practicing with me, the speed and brutality was difficult for me to sit through. Then, Klein pulled off his helmet seconds later, laughing in the rain. Unconcerned that, without armor, we could have just killed each other- I was grateful he had, else it might’ve been interpreted quite differently. “The bruising mostly from everyday participation at a Rakiri gym, and some remnants from before I got proper gear for baton practice. He heals extremely fast, and more so, he isn’t happy unless he exercises for at least an hour or two a day.”
I pulled up another video. Klein was sitting at the table bouncing his leg at an ever-increasing pace while trying to focus on a decently complex equation. He finally stood up and started pacing mouthing words as he skipped in time to an unheard rhythm.
“W-what’s he doing?” The agent asked, looking just a tad disturbed by the display of what seemed erratic behavior.
“A sort of dance while playing the song ‘a fine mesh net’ on his headphones. There was a monsoon that Shel weekend, and even I’m not crazy enough to fight in a thunderstorm like that. He does that around the house for an hour, and then finally settles in on a video game,” I explained to the agents, who were looking at me dubiously.
“So, you oversee an adolescent who is an intelligence asset, but also seems poorly fitted for Shil’vati life. Why the baton practice? Wouldn’t that make him even more dangerous, more of an outsider? Are you trying to sabotage his integration? Why not take him shopping, instead, or teach him beauty and self-care routines?” They were antagonizing. Countering every argument to see how I reacted. It seemed they could at least interrogate decently well.
“I hardly call a few quirks ‘poor fitting’. The baton practice is for obvious self-defense. Its intention is to make him dangerous,” I explained, letting the interviewers lead the conversation.
The back and forth went on for a while, but I presented a highlight reel of the last few months. Including a Rakiri gym video when Klein tried to flourish a wall climb and smashed his shoulder on the ledge while face planting into the mud.
The agents would not be arresting me today. They would need medical reports, and would require Klein, Hario, and Compassion Through Deeds to attest while truth scanned that these were sports injuries, and not some conspiracy to commit torture. We were also going to need to see an ICAD agent every two weeks for counseling. I had no idea what ICAD was, but I would investigate them later.
Finally, the agents appeared they were closing up the interview. I tried not to brace myself as they asked the complicated question. “One thing we need to know is, what is Klein to you? If he is just a crucial asset, then why haven’t you contacted a local volunteer family foster? Or was the military asset just a cover to find a male heir?”
I sighed, the truth wasn’t incriminating, but if I didn’t word it right, I would look like the worst sort of military tourist. “I had, originally, taken care of Klein as a key intelligence asset. Within that first week though, I had found that despite the decades of preparation, there wasn’t a process for someone to claim asylum as a child during first contact. He would be in military bureaucratic limbo without an advocate. We both know where he would end up.”
The room cooled by several degrees, which was a pity, I almost got the talkative agent to laugh at Klein’s antics. “Out of duty I investigated ways I could bring him home until I could find resources to place him in a stable situation with all the resources to help a xeno without a community. I found someone who was willing to help in exchange for reports on Klein’s adaptation to Shil’vati lifestyle. That’s Klein’s purpose as a military asset in my home.”
I continued. I was saying more on than I needed to, but if they did a follow up investigation later for some other incident, which was a when, not if, then I wanted this on record. “Klein has become part of this household though, despite, or maybe because, of his oddities. He may not be Shil’vati, but he seems to have integrated well. It’s why, while it was never my intention, when he is an adult, I will offer him full adoption, and title of home guardian.”
I watched the agents exchange looks, then the agent made a few taps on her slate. ‘Upper left, middle center, probably a message app’. I then listened for the telltale taps of a yes as a micro expression of a self-satisfied smile crossed the agent’s face. I decided to stop playing interviewee.
“So, you won the bet on if I would claim the human as my son, how long has that pool been building?” I asked folding my hands together.
The agent answered before she could think. “Two months… Wait!? How did you-”
The agent was cut off by the squawk of the slate’s speaker. “Agents you did well enough with the interview portion, however; you absolutely failed to secure the subject. Could you please illustrate to them why I stressed caution {petal of death’s veil}?”
The code name wasn’t one I had heard in decades, but I wasn’t going to snub an old handler. I kicked on my fast reaction mods to max speed and lunged over the table past the still sitting agents. I pirouetted and twisted the restraints into a loop as I brought them down over the left agent’s head and pulled back carefully, lightly touching the chain of my restraints around the neck of the agent before she could even react.
I kicked off my mods and caught my breath as time returned to normal. Both agents’ eyes went wide with shock as the one not about to be strangled tried to get away to pull out her weapon. “W-who are you!?”
“I’m going to slowly release you and put my hands up, is that everything you needed {hated old friend}?” I directed my question to the slate, using the code High Shil word to show I was playing along.
“More than enough. Agent! Holster your weapon and come back to the safe room. We need to go over security procedures,” the slate responded, and the very brief confrontation was over.
The agents walked out, and Siltan stomped in looking like she could bring about a thunderstorm by pure force of will. “We weren’t the only ones to get visits from the ‘majesty’s’ Interior today. Cee let me know that the Interior is also interrogated Reqellia as well.”
I now understood why these two rookies were here. It was a distraction for me. I grumbled as I picked up my slate and called Reqellia. Her face appeared a second later.
“By the Deep, it’s been a long day,” Reqellia breathed out as I heard a door slam, then she cursed some more.
“Tell me everything. Is Klein ok?” I asked.
“Cee says he’s fine and is waking him up. Klein might be getting a mod himself before she closes him up though because, oh- looks like it’s my day is going to get longer still. ICAD is here, and it’s a Hydrean in a Gearschilde clinic.” Reqellia hung up, and I stared at the phone in confusion.
It was time to find out what ICAD was.
I started to panic as I turned my head, focusing on lettering on a terminal, tried to sigh, and felt what few muscles I could control turn to lead as I sank back on the medical bed. Thank the goddess, it was Shil and Gearschilde lettering on the slate and medical supplies.
“Good afternoon Klein, are you okay? Your heart rate spiked.” I heard Cee, or full name Compassion Through Deeds, speak and turned my head to see her. She wore a dark red lab coat and regarded me with unblinking cybernetic eyes. Most of her orange skin had been replaced with dark steel etched with stylized waves and swirls of silver. Her face still emoted in a pleasant smile, but had that uncanny valley look of unblemished synth skin. I looked down to see a dozen micro surgical tools still inside me.
I should have been screaming at the sight, but all I felt was relief and joy. “Yeah, I just worried for a half second that I had hallucinated the last few months and was actually on a back on Earth on some black-market operating table getting my kidney stolen.”
Cee was aghast. “Does that happen on Earth?”
I would shrug, but again, I couldn’t move, instead I responded. “Rumors of it happening, but I never knew anyone personally.”
Cee reassured me. “Well, good news Klein, you are on Sky, you are in a Gearschilde clinic where stealing vital organs is a legal, moral and religious crime of unrepentant severity. What I have done is remove your appendix, and let the sedatives wear off so we can discuss what you want in its place.”
“In place of my appendix? Why?” I asked, it wasn’t like I really needed the vestigial organ turn internal hand grenade.
“Customary in Gearschilde for surgery is to be about giving a better life than just taking from the body. So, any ideas of what would make your life better?”
I thought about the bruising, the constant having to put healing patches on, and the annoyance of doing so. I thought about the near fatality of almost blowing my appendix, and if something could have fixed the issue before it got out of hand. “What about a healing dispenser? I keep having to put on patches and gel at the end of the day, and if I miss a spot, I will pay for it later.”
Cee gave me a grateful expression. “That’s a perfect first implant. I was worried you were going to ask for something more aggressive. When I was your age, I got my first defensive mod, a retractable forearm knife. Of course, my next surgery was being stitched back together after accidently stabbing myself with it.”
I tried to chuckle, but I didn’t have control of my diaphragm for it. “So, what’s next?”
Cee explained. “Well, the fabricator in the other room is right now creating your implant. It shouldn’t take long; are you ok being immobilized for the next hour or so?”
I thought about it, and honestly, I was still surprised I wasn’t panicking. “No, but I’m going to get really bored just laying here, do the Gearschilde have any good myths or stories?”
I knew I was fishing in an untapped pool that was guaranteed to have something. I wasn’t expecting my doctor to be gleeful at the thought though. “Oh blessed be you child, I am a surgeon priest, half the reason I am in this vocation is to tell stories. I take it you know nothing about Gearschilde mythology, or even our history?”
It was on my list of rabbit holes to get into, but instead I binged the rest of Prince Of The Stars and cried, it was nice. “No, but I would love to hear them.”
“Well if you want to, every Shel we have open services and brunch. But since you are new to Gearschilde mythology we should start with one of my favorites. The story of the Hopestrider.”
The ceiling lights dimmed, and the sterile operating room felt surprisingly cozy as I leaned my head back. Listening to Cee starting up the tale. “Our sect requires us to lead what can best be called ‘child technician classes’. Learning to take care of machines, which includes us by the start of adolescence, if not before. It’s a critical life skill, and teaching it is considered an important part of our religious studies.”
‘Cyberpunk VeggieTales’ Squirrel brain chittered.
No one wants your opinion squirrel brain. I thought back.
Cee paused for dramatic effect. “Then, everything changed.”
“The ground shook, and the mountain kingdoms erupted in fire and molten rock. Radioactive dust from these now volcanoes made the centers of civilization barren and deadly. Only the wasteland colonies in the poisonous mists provided any refuge, and so king and commoner alike huddled in the once disposable outposts of a ruined world. Our story starts a generation after the calamity with an unlucky child.”
I heard a ding, Cee stopped as the ceiling lights came up. “Oh dear, let me stop for a second to get the implant.”
I leaned back and thought about her nightmare world. When Cee returned, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes, too engrossed in the imagery of the story. “What happened to the child?”
I could hear the whirring as she started to work. Her voice I realized had taken a more scripted cadence. She must have automated her voice so she could focus. “In a metalworker’s home, a child was born with broken legs and brittle bones. It was common in those days for such a child to die that way. It was their first born and the parents did everything they could to save them. A surgeon was called. The child lost their legs, but kept their life.”
“The child lived in the workshop. Kept warm by the hearth’s fire, even unable to walk, they were curious. Day in and out, they watched their parents construct machines that helped the community make food, filter the air, and defend the homes from the starving, mutated, monsters that circled the fortress walls. The child felt helpless though. Only able to crawl within the confines of the home or be carried around like cargo about the maze-like town of winding stairs and narrow passageways.
“They spent much of their time learning, sitting near the hearth to keep warm, they did the careful work of filing gears and wheels needed to control what could be automated as each hand replaced was another that could be spent doing something else critical to keep the community alive. Still, the child wanted to do more. They could not deliver what they made, and had to rely on others to help them at every turn in life.”
“Little did the child know that in the hearth a machine spirit lived, getting by eating scrap metal that fell in and sleeping at night on the bed of embers. The machine spirit saw the child’s wish, an invention without form, and turned it into a dream for the child, since new machines would mean new machine spirits to play with.”
That night the child saw themselves flying over the cold gray landscape on a pair of machine legs. Traveling the dangerous paths to other towns, and giving the isolated towns hope and community. The child awoke with joy and crawled over to his workbench littered with scrap metal, now children….”
Cee stopped talking and her voice went back to an unscripted rhythm. “I just realized we can’t do the practical part of this story. In class each kid gets a hope strider stuffy with snaps to attach legs they make. We give them bits of copper. Show them how to bend and hammer it, and how to bond it by wrapping the joint in solder and then applying heat with a soldering iron heated in their own toy ‘hearth’ with a safety cover. Still we get a daily small burn or cut, but that in itself is a valuable lesson in tool safety.”
It sounded adorable in a weird, steampunk way. “Sounds fun, so, new legs?”
Cee got the que, as much as I loved the story, and the talk about kindergarten metal shop, I was still immobilized on the operating table. I heard surgical whirring, and the scripted voice came back. “Yes, the child works all night until they fit the new legs on, and for the first time stand up on their own! The parents are overjoyed as they watch them move about the house and that afternoon, with the help of an iron bar as a cane, they walk around their community by themselves.”
“However, it isn’t long before the legs start to see wear and tear, but the child persists, not wanting to stop and fix the creaking joints, until one day the legs stop working altogether and they fall down in a twisting staircase. Carried back to the workshop, they rest for days to heal before they are able to work again. Constructing a new set from the remains of the old. Now…”
My whole body had that pins and needles feel and I tried to move my fingers, but it was sporadic and jerky. Cee distracted me by explaining my new implant. “So, this implant is very basic. It can only be requested to send diagnostic data. The implant only administers more healing serum at a safe, steady rate if, and only if, it doesn’t detect any in your bloodstream. There is an injection site with a color change circle around it. It uses standard go, caution, stop colors to let you know if it’s functioning. I want to wave your omni-pad over the site and check the diagnostics at least once a day. It should hopefully catch if something like this is happening again.”
I tried to not move as I felt my body twitch. My gut felt like I had been run over, repeatedly. I asked, “why didn’t my medical monitoring implant catch this?”
Cee explained. “That’s only good for basic vitals. Near universal indicators of life and activity such as heart rate and blood pressure. The new implant will be able to scan for elevated protein counts. So, if one of your other internal organs starts to malfunction you can get a more unambiguous message that I hope you won’t ignore before getting medivac’d through the city.”
I chuckled a little at that, and it hurt. “Ow, ok, no movement. I thought it was just a pulled muscle or something.”
Cee looked down at me sternly, and her voice took on a deeper, more authoritative tone. “Child, more than enough Gearschilde have died thinking they can just, push themselves past their organic parts failing, if you have a torn muscle that hurts after you’ve used healing gel, then it’s serious enough you need to come see me, or another xeno-doctor, immediately. That’s why I hope your new implant can fix things before it gets to that point.”
Cee brightened after that and went back to the explanation of my implant. “Now that I scolded you, there is a color changing circle over your implant’s location. It will change color when the healing serum runs low, or and will start to flash in color, and try to ping your omni-pad if it detects a malfunction. The implant uses a standard Shil’ implant autoinjector, and it will reject anything not meant for red blood standard biology, but still be careful, it’s not a perfect filtering system. Today I’m giving you a set of autoinjectors I want you to use throughout the week. It's fortunate that your implant’s primary function will speed up your recovery time.”
Ok, that’s cool to know, but.
‘What happened to Hopestrider?!’ Squirrel brain demanded.
“So, the story, what happens next?” I asked as Cee helped me sit up. My stomach still hurt, but the feeling was in the overworked muscle category rather than a gut punch.
Cee started to explain as I put on what was essentially gym clothes. Soft, baggy pants and shirt with easy pull away tabs if they needed to remove the clothes quickly for checkups and surgical intervention. “Well, we don’t have time to go over the Hope Strider as a story, or even a summary, but if you want to, my husband teaches the child technician class during open services on Shel, you could sit in and listen.
Right now, I will give you a family crafted picture book that tells the core story of Hope Strider growing up, and making their first delivery. After that it’s a loose selection of legends that are attributed to Hope Strider as they grow older and more accomplished, but while I get that book, I need you to speak to someone.”
Cee led me out of the operating room, and into a comfortable looking lounge where a… Hydrean was sitting in an Imperial business uniform reading an omni-pad. My brain pulled everything I knew of Hydreans out. A rabbit hole I had dug into one rainy Shel on the public information repositories.
She, they, single gendered I reminded myself, looked up and smiled at me calmly, mouth closed for politeness. Their skin was grass green with artful patches of bark on her face and neck, the result of cosmetic scarification. They looked human, or Shil’oid, but that was purposefully done. Even the somewhat standard looking ‘desert walker’ Hydreans normally had more, or less, limbs than standard. Biological modification was at the root of all Hydrean technology, ancient as the stone ax to other species.
I thought about how contentious Hydrean/Shil relationships were said to be. Their arid home planet was off limits to all but certified personnel who had been trained how to handle the dangerous mix of flora/fauna that instead of being different groups, was just a single taxonomy that had no distinction between predator and prey. With their complex biology, a Hydrean needed to undergo extensive body modification just to exist off their home world.
Cee left the room with a friendly goodbye and offered assistance “Hello Klein, I am Ka’tel. It’s wonderful to meet you. I am with the Imperial Child Assistance Division, or ICAD. My job is to help interspecies fosters and adoptions. How are you feeling today?”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth as they spoke. Triangular, and made of burnished metal meant to tear off chunks of animal, plant, or even rock, whole and let their stomachs’ mix of acids dissolve it into something the rest their body could use.
‘The agent in charge of your welfare is a plant/animal hybrid with a diet of ‘yes’, your doctor is a wholesome orange 40K mechanicus, and your crush is a were-lion, you are not ok .’ Squirrel brain remarked.
“I’m actually pretty good, despite the surgery, it’s actually a common issue for humans.” I said to Ka’tel, because my life was weird before the aliens, squirrel brain was just being a pessimistic asshole.
“Really? Do you know what caused it?” Ka’tel asked.
“It just, happens? Gets irritated or infected and then you need to get it removed.” I said nonchalantly. Ka’tel made a mark on her omni-pad.
“How did you know? It seems dangerous if it can happen suddenly, and you mentioned it before you passed out.” Ka’tel asked tone friendly and conversational.
“Oh, the side of your stomach hurts. I was hoping it was just a pulled muscle bec- Dammit!” I just remembered what happened before I woke up here.
“The raid game! Ko’tasa would have had to substitute for me and she’s not well balanced for our team mix.” I said with a exasperated sigh.
Ka’tel cocked their head to one side, but the tone in her voice was humorous. “You were willing to ignore a possible life-threatening condition for a game?”
I explained, though I felt idiotic now. “I couldn’t tell. I get sore muscles all the time from gym, and sparing, and even from the auxiliary work, honestly my commandant doesn’t really know where to put me sometimes. Last week I helped with road clearing for the new town to go up a few [miles] away, and the girls could barely keep up with me.”
Ka’tel seemed to be enjoying my rambling. “Sounds like you really get put to work.”
“Not really? The auxiliary is the only work I do, and if I wanted to stop I just, can. It’s not like I need to worry about buying food.” I knew what I was saying seemed strange while living in the Imperium.
It was the first hint that Ka’tel was controlling her expressions when she seemed more attentive and… relieved? “That’s delightful news to hear! Is there anything about your living situation that bothers you?”
I paused and thought about it, and really couldn’t see anything. “Not really?”
“Anything, or anyone, you miss from Earth?” Ka’tel asked, stressing that last bit, dropping a mental bomb on my head and I froze, mouth partly open with a half formed response. When was the last time I even thought about Earth as more than an abstract concept? It hadn’t been [six months] since I left but…
I didn’t feel anything.
The last year I lived on Earth, it was like being a ghost. I saw people, I even talked to people, but it was like a thick plate of glass all around me. Today I felt color, and life, and things, but that last year on Earth?
Like radio static.
I looked at Ka’tel, and their expression was one of controlled neutrality. Why was I not freaking out?
I had a sensation of the room spinning. I asked, “No, I don’t really feel anything about Earth, is that normal?”
“I don’t know Klein, by most sentient standards what you went through was unusual, and from what little I know about humans that isn’t propaganda, it’s unusual for humans as well. What I do know is right now you seem happy and healthy, and that’s my top priority.” Ka’tel said as they stood and offered me a stiff plastic card with their contact details on it.
“We will be chatting every other week to see how you are adjusting. I might ask to visit you at the youth auxiliary depot, the gym or at home. I really am glad to see you are doing just fine, but if you ever need a way out, that card has an emergency signal function, just pull the plastic tab.” Ka’tel told me, and was about to open the door before I spoke up.
“How should I refer to you?” I asked, and once they realized, Ka’tel gave me a genuine, toothed, smile that was both menacing and goofy at the same time.
“Most people don’t learn enough Hydrean biology to ask. Her, that’s how everyone in the office sees me, and it’s more convenient socially.” She said, opening the door to an anxious looking Itaro standing next to a serious Ruhal and Reqellia.
“I need to speak to you Ruhal, and Reqellia, you should join us for this conversation as well.” Ka’tel said as she ushered me out.
Cee led us into a gaming room with a long table on one side, and a set of couches facing the wall to wall display on the other. She handed me an overloaded plate of cookies with bottle of water, and stepped out, closing the door behind us. “Eat those, your stomach has healed, but it’s going to need calories to fuel the recovery.”
Only then did I realize I was salivating at the smell of warm sugar, and flour made of Kasan grain, if I was identifying the green color correctly. I put the plate of cookies on the table, and snarfed them as I sat down.
After swallowing the fourth cookie semi-whole, I looked up to see Itaro’s face fighting a war between impatient, apprehensive, and hopeful. I stopped, realizing what I was doing, and sipped some water to stall for time.
I was about to pull my omni-pad out from my pockets when Itaro suddenly put her hand out to stop me. “Wait! Klein, I need to tell you something…”
She was silent for a long moment, what was she worried about?
“I… Like you, as, I find you…. Attractive, and I may have gotten a little…. overprotective when you got hurt.” Itaro said, her voice stuttering.
‘Oh, that makes things easy.’ Squirrel brain was for once, right.
“I like you too.” I said as I leaned over and kissed her.
submitted by Adventurous-Map-9400 to HFY [link] [comments]
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
and u/BruhMomentGEE
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
Previous
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as always, comments are welcome.
Chapter 17:
Thanks to the author of Alien-Nation for editing this chapter!Ruhal:
“We are sorry about the restraints. Your dossier has a security lock from the Office of Interior that I can’t even read, and all our supervisor could tell us was ‘interview with caution’,” one of the two agents explained.I regarded my handcuffs with professional disapproval. They had a longer than regular chain for ambulatory movement and inmate processing, by the deep, I could even use them as garrote if needed. They had revealed the limits of their rank with that apology.
“No need to worry. I am sure this will be a formality in less than an hour,” I told them, if there was one thing that was in abundance on the planet Sky it was Interior and undercover commando trainees. I hoped this would probably be their most interesting case all month.
“So, would you care to explain how you are raising a human, that is also considered a military asset?” The agent inquired as she pulled out her slate.
“Of course, Klein surrendered himself and requested medical aid and refugee status. He was willing to answer essential questions regarding human culture that aided in liberating humanity into the Shil’vati Empire. He wouldn’t be safe on Earth anymore, and I mentioned that he was still important in writing my reports. If I had my slate, I could give you the relevant documentation,” I said in a conversational tone, without any of the emotions that weighed the story, and glossing over the specifics.
“No need. I have everything you submitted to the Interior, including his asset designation, the interrogation transcripts, and even his doctor’s contact info. To be honest with you it’s the only reason we haven’t interviewed you yet, even after a dozen calls about a ‘possible trafficked human’ since he arrived. Your information is corroborated with several other departments. The issue now is what the medivac scans found.” The agent pushed a slate towards me with medical notes bolded for emphasis ‘probable severe abuse’.
“The report shows a recent history of blunt force trauma, abrasions, and even muscle tearing, in short. It looks like the human has been systematically tortured for months. You also have recently requested restricted training armor in the human’s size.” The agent explained.
Ah, that was my mistake. I had been treating Klein as another child, just with some unique needs. It looks like there were other considerations, ones that I failed to see.
“I really do need my omni-slate to illustrate this, it’s on my desk right now if one of your assistants could get it?” I asked, hoping they got the suggestion to not leave me with only one interrogator in the room so they wouldn’t be graded too harshly.
They thankfully acquiesced without comment, and with my omni-slate in hand I pulled up the latest video of Klein practicing with me, the speed and brutality was difficult for me to sit through. Then, Klein pulled off his helmet seconds later, laughing in the rain. Unconcerned that, without armor, we could have just killed each other- I was grateful he had, else it might’ve been interpreted quite differently. “The bruising mostly from everyday participation at a Rakiri gym, and some remnants from before I got proper gear for baton practice. He heals extremely fast, and more so, he isn’t happy unless he exercises for at least an hour or two a day.”
I pulled up another video. Klein was sitting at the table bouncing his leg at an ever-increasing pace while trying to focus on a decently complex equation. He finally stood up and started pacing mouthing words as he skipped in time to an unheard rhythm.
“W-what’s he doing?” The agent asked, looking just a tad disturbed by the display of what seemed erratic behavior.
“A sort of dance while playing the song ‘a fine mesh net’ on his headphones. There was a monsoon that Shel weekend, and even I’m not crazy enough to fight in a thunderstorm like that. He does that around the house for an hour, and then finally settles in on a video game,” I explained to the agents, who were looking at me dubiously.
“So, you oversee an adolescent who is an intelligence asset, but also seems poorly fitted for Shil’vati life. Why the baton practice? Wouldn’t that make him even more dangerous, more of an outsider? Are you trying to sabotage his integration? Why not take him shopping, instead, or teach him beauty and self-care routines?” They were antagonizing. Countering every argument to see how I reacted. It seemed they could at least interrogate decently well.
“I hardly call a few quirks ‘poor fitting’. The baton practice is for obvious self-defense. Its intention is to make him dangerous,” I explained, letting the interviewers lead the conversation.
The back and forth went on for a while, but I presented a highlight reel of the last few months. Including a Rakiri gym video when Klein tried to flourish a wall climb and smashed his shoulder on the ledge while face planting into the mud.
The agents would not be arresting me today. They would need medical reports, and would require Klein, Hario, and Compassion Through Deeds to attest while truth scanned that these were sports injuries, and not some conspiracy to commit torture. We were also going to need to see an ICAD agent every two weeks for counseling. I had no idea what ICAD was, but I would investigate them later.
Finally, the agents appeared they were closing up the interview. I tried not to brace myself as they asked the complicated question. “One thing we need to know is, what is Klein to you? If he is just a crucial asset, then why haven’t you contacted a local volunteer family foster? Or was the military asset just a cover to find a male heir?”
I sighed, the truth wasn’t incriminating, but if I didn’t word it right, I would look like the worst sort of military tourist. “I had, originally, taken care of Klein as a key intelligence asset. Within that first week though, I had found that despite the decades of preparation, there wasn’t a process for someone to claim asylum as a child during first contact. He would be in military bureaucratic limbo without an advocate. We both know where he would end up.”
The room cooled by several degrees, which was a pity, I almost got the talkative agent to laugh at Klein’s antics. “Out of duty I investigated ways I could bring him home until I could find resources to place him in a stable situation with all the resources to help a xeno without a community. I found someone who was willing to help in exchange for reports on Klein’s adaptation to Shil’vati lifestyle. That’s Klein’s purpose as a military asset in my home.”
I continued. I was saying more on than I needed to, but if they did a follow up investigation later for some other incident, which was a when, not if, then I wanted this on record. “Klein has become part of this household though, despite, or maybe because, of his oddities. He may not be Shil’vati, but he seems to have integrated well. It’s why, while it was never my intention, when he is an adult, I will offer him full adoption, and title of home guardian.”
I watched the agents exchange looks, then the agent made a few taps on her slate. ‘Upper left, middle center, probably a message app’. I then listened for the telltale taps of a yes as a micro expression of a self-satisfied smile crossed the agent’s face. I decided to stop playing interviewee.
“So, you won the bet on if I would claim the human as my son, how long has that pool been building?” I asked folding my hands together.
The agent answered before she could think. “Two months… Wait!? How did you-”
The agent was cut off by the squawk of the slate’s speaker. “Agents you did well enough with the interview portion, however; you absolutely failed to secure the subject. Could you please illustrate to them why I stressed caution {petal of death’s veil}?”
The code name wasn’t one I had heard in decades, but I wasn’t going to snub an old handler. I kicked on my fast reaction mods to max speed and lunged over the table past the still sitting agents. I pirouetted and twisted the restraints into a loop as I brought them down over the left agent’s head and pulled back carefully, lightly touching the chain of my restraints around the neck of the agent before she could even react.
I kicked off my mods and caught my breath as time returned to normal. Both agents’ eyes went wide with shock as the one not about to be strangled tried to get away to pull out her weapon. “W-who are you!?”
“I’m going to slowly release you and put my hands up, is that everything you needed {hated old friend}?” I directed my question to the slate, using the code High Shil word to show I was playing along.
“More than enough. Agent! Holster your weapon and come back to the safe room. We need to go over security procedures,” the slate responded, and the very brief confrontation was over.
The agents walked out, and Siltan stomped in looking like she could bring about a thunderstorm by pure force of will. “We weren’t the only ones to get visits from the ‘majesty’s’ Interior today. Cee let me know that the Interior is also interrogated Reqellia as well.”
I now understood why these two rookies were here. It was a distraction for me. I grumbled as I picked up my slate and called Reqellia. Her face appeared a second later.
“By the Deep, it’s been a long day,” Reqellia breathed out as I heard a door slam, then she cursed some more.
“Tell me everything. Is Klein ok?” I asked.
“Cee says he’s fine and is waking him up. Klein might be getting a mod himself before she closes him up though because, oh- looks like it’s my day is going to get longer still. ICAD is here, and it’s a Hydrean in a Gearschilde clinic.” Reqellia hung up, and I stared at the phone in confusion.
It was time to find out what ICAD was.
Klein:
I blearily came to, as high powered, piercing white light flooded my half open eyes. I tried to move my arm to shield my face and found I couldn’t. Actually, I couldn't move or even feel anything from the neck down.I started to panic as I turned my head, focusing on lettering on a terminal, tried to sigh, and felt what few muscles I could control turn to lead as I sank back on the medical bed. Thank the goddess, it was Shil and Gearschilde lettering on the slate and medical supplies.
“Good afternoon Klein, are you okay? Your heart rate spiked.” I heard Cee, or full name Compassion Through Deeds, speak and turned my head to see her. She wore a dark red lab coat and regarded me with unblinking cybernetic eyes. Most of her orange skin had been replaced with dark steel etched with stylized waves and swirls of silver. Her face still emoted in a pleasant smile, but had that uncanny valley look of unblemished synth skin. I looked down to see a dozen micro surgical tools still inside me.
I should have been screaming at the sight, but all I felt was relief and joy. “Yeah, I just worried for a half second that I had hallucinated the last few months and was actually on a back on Earth on some black-market operating table getting my kidney stolen.”
Cee was aghast. “Does that happen on Earth?”
I would shrug, but again, I couldn’t move, instead I responded. “Rumors of it happening, but I never knew anyone personally.”
Cee reassured me. “Well, good news Klein, you are on Sky, you are in a Gearschilde clinic where stealing vital organs is a legal, moral and religious crime of unrepentant severity. What I have done is remove your appendix, and let the sedatives wear off so we can discuss what you want in its place.”
“In place of my appendix? Why?” I asked, it wasn’t like I really needed the vestigial organ turn internal hand grenade.
“Customary in Gearschilde for surgery is to be about giving a better life than just taking from the body. So, any ideas of what would make your life better?”
I thought about the bruising, the constant having to put healing patches on, and the annoyance of doing so. I thought about the near fatality of almost blowing my appendix, and if something could have fixed the issue before it got out of hand. “What about a healing dispenser? I keep having to put on patches and gel at the end of the day, and if I miss a spot, I will pay for it later.”
Cee gave me a grateful expression. “That’s a perfect first implant. I was worried you were going to ask for something more aggressive. When I was your age, I got my first defensive mod, a retractable forearm knife. Of course, my next surgery was being stitched back together after accidently stabbing myself with it.”
I tried to chuckle, but I didn’t have control of my diaphragm for it. “So, what’s next?”
Cee explained. “Well, the fabricator in the other room is right now creating your implant. It shouldn’t take long; are you ok being immobilized for the next hour or so?”
I thought about it, and honestly, I was still surprised I wasn’t panicking. “No, but I’m going to get really bored just laying here, do the Gearschilde have any good myths or stories?”
I knew I was fishing in an untapped pool that was guaranteed to have something. I wasn’t expecting my doctor to be gleeful at the thought though. “Oh blessed be you child, I am a surgeon priest, half the reason I am in this vocation is to tell stories. I take it you know nothing about Gearschilde mythology, or even our history?”
It was on my list of rabbit holes to get into, but instead I binged the rest of Prince Of The Stars and cried, it was nice. “No, but I would love to hear them.”
“Well if you want to, every Shel we have open services and brunch. But since you are new to Gearschilde mythology we should start with one of my favorites. The story of the Hopestrider.”
The ceiling lights dimmed, and the sterile operating room felt surprisingly cozy as I leaned my head back. Listening to Cee starting up the tale. “Our sect requires us to lead what can best be called ‘child technician classes’. Learning to take care of machines, which includes us by the start of adolescence, if not before. It’s a critical life skill, and teaching it is considered an important part of our religious studies.”
‘Cyberpunk VeggieTales’ Squirrel brain chittered.
No one wants your opinion squirrel brain. I thought back.
Cee’s story: Hope Strider
“Long ago our world was full of harsh life. The valleys were often filled with poisonous mists and deadly predators that could rip apart even the strongest of our people. The mountain kingdoms were brutal fiefdoms that sent many to their deaths mining precious metals from the dangerous wastes of the valleys. Drilling into the heart of the mountains provided the power necessary to purify water, and later, steam engines turned those fiefdoms into empires. Expanding into the wastes using the lowest class of people as its foundation.”Cee paused for dramatic effect. “Then, everything changed.”
“The ground shook, and the mountain kingdoms erupted in fire and molten rock. Radioactive dust from these now volcanoes made the centers of civilization barren and deadly. Only the wasteland colonies in the poisonous mists provided any refuge, and so king and commoner alike huddled in the once disposable outposts of a ruined world. Our story starts a generation after the calamity with an unlucky child.”
I heard a ding, Cee stopped as the ceiling lights came up. “Oh dear, let me stop for a second to get the implant.”
I leaned back and thought about her nightmare world. When Cee returned, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes, too engrossed in the imagery of the story. “What happened to the child?”
I could hear the whirring as she started to work. Her voice I realized had taken a more scripted cadence. She must have automated her voice so she could focus. “In a metalworker’s home, a child was born with broken legs and brittle bones. It was common in those days for such a child to die that way. It was their first born and the parents did everything they could to save them. A surgeon was called. The child lost their legs, but kept their life.”
“The child lived in the workshop. Kept warm by the hearth’s fire, even unable to walk, they were curious. Day in and out, they watched their parents construct machines that helped the community make food, filter the air, and defend the homes from the starving, mutated, monsters that circled the fortress walls. The child felt helpless though. Only able to crawl within the confines of the home or be carried around like cargo about the maze-like town of winding stairs and narrow passageways.
“They spent much of their time learning, sitting near the hearth to keep warm, they did the careful work of filing gears and wheels needed to control what could be automated as each hand replaced was another that could be spent doing something else critical to keep the community alive. Still, the child wanted to do more. They could not deliver what they made, and had to rely on others to help them at every turn in life.”
“Little did the child know that in the hearth a machine spirit lived, getting by eating scrap metal that fell in and sleeping at night on the bed of embers. The machine spirit saw the child’s wish, an invention without form, and turned it into a dream for the child, since new machines would mean new machine spirits to play with.”
That night the child saw themselves flying over the cold gray landscape on a pair of machine legs. Traveling the dangerous paths to other towns, and giving the isolated towns hope and community. The child awoke with joy and crawled over to his workbench littered with scrap metal, now children….”
Cee stopped talking and her voice went back to an unscripted rhythm. “I just realized we can’t do the practical part of this story. In class each kid gets a hope strider stuffy with snaps to attach legs they make. We give them bits of copper. Show them how to bend and hammer it, and how to bond it by wrapping the joint in solder and then applying heat with a soldering iron heated in their own toy ‘hearth’ with a safety cover. Still we get a daily small burn or cut, but that in itself is a valuable lesson in tool safety.”
It sounded adorable in a weird, steampunk way. “Sounds fun, so, new legs?”
Cee got the que, as much as I loved the story, and the talk about kindergarten metal shop, I was still immobilized on the operating table. I heard surgical whirring, and the scripted voice came back. “Yes, the child works all night until they fit the new legs on, and for the first time stand up on their own! The parents are overjoyed as they watch them move about the house and that afternoon, with the help of an iron bar as a cane, they walk around their community by themselves.”
“However, it isn’t long before the legs start to see wear and tear, but the child persists, not wanting to stop and fix the creaking joints, until one day the legs stop working altogether and they fall down in a twisting staircase. Carried back to the workshop, they rest for days to heal before they are able to work again. Constructing a new set from the remains of the old. Now…”
Klein:
Cee stopped again, but this time she had moved away from me and was putting the now bloody surgical tools into a sanitizing system. “We're done! I am going to start removing the nerve blocks, so you’re going to be sore, but if things get too painful, let me know. Please, try not to move anything but your hands right now, even then I would advise against it.”My whole body had that pins and needles feel and I tried to move my fingers, but it was sporadic and jerky. Cee distracted me by explaining my new implant. “So, this implant is very basic. It can only be requested to send diagnostic data. The implant only administers more healing serum at a safe, steady rate if, and only if, it doesn’t detect any in your bloodstream. There is an injection site with a color change circle around it. It uses standard go, caution, stop colors to let you know if it’s functioning. I want to wave your omni-pad over the site and check the diagnostics at least once a day. It should hopefully catch if something like this is happening again.”
I tried to not move as I felt my body twitch. My gut felt like I had been run over, repeatedly. I asked, “why didn’t my medical monitoring implant catch this?”
Cee explained. “That’s only good for basic vitals. Near universal indicators of life and activity such as heart rate and blood pressure. The new implant will be able to scan for elevated protein counts. So, if one of your other internal organs starts to malfunction you can get a more unambiguous message that I hope you won’t ignore before getting medivac’d through the city.”
I chuckled a little at that, and it hurt. “Ow, ok, no movement. I thought it was just a pulled muscle or something.”
Cee looked down at me sternly, and her voice took on a deeper, more authoritative tone. “Child, more than enough Gearschilde have died thinking they can just, push themselves past their organic parts failing, if you have a torn muscle that hurts after you’ve used healing gel, then it’s serious enough you need to come see me, or another xeno-doctor, immediately. That’s why I hope your new implant can fix things before it gets to that point.”
Cee brightened after that and went back to the explanation of my implant. “Now that I scolded you, there is a color changing circle over your implant’s location. It will change color when the healing serum runs low, or and will start to flash in color, and try to ping your omni-pad if it detects a malfunction. The implant uses a standard Shil’ implant autoinjector, and it will reject anything not meant for red blood standard biology, but still be careful, it’s not a perfect filtering system. Today I’m giving you a set of autoinjectors I want you to use throughout the week. It's fortunate that your implant’s primary function will speed up your recovery time.”
Ok, that’s cool to know, but.
‘What happened to Hopestrider?!’ Squirrel brain demanded.
“So, the story, what happens next?” I asked as Cee helped me sit up. My stomach still hurt, but the feeling was in the overworked muscle category rather than a gut punch.
Cee started to explain as I put on what was essentially gym clothes. Soft, baggy pants and shirt with easy pull away tabs if they needed to remove the clothes quickly for checkups and surgical intervention. “Well, we don’t have time to go over the Hope Strider as a story, or even a summary, but if you want to, my husband teaches the child technician class during open services on Shel, you could sit in and listen.
Right now, I will give you a family crafted picture book that tells the core story of Hope Strider growing up, and making their first delivery. After that it’s a loose selection of legends that are attributed to Hope Strider as they grow older and more accomplished, but while I get that book, I need you to speak to someone.”
Cee led me out of the operating room, and into a comfortable looking lounge where a… Hydrean was sitting in an Imperial business uniform reading an omni-pad. My brain pulled everything I knew of Hydreans out. A rabbit hole I had dug into one rainy Shel on the public information repositories.
She, they, single gendered I reminded myself, looked up and smiled at me calmly, mouth closed for politeness. Their skin was grass green with artful patches of bark on her face and neck, the result of cosmetic scarification. They looked human, or Shil’oid, but that was purposefully done. Even the somewhat standard looking ‘desert walker’ Hydreans normally had more, or less, limbs than standard. Biological modification was at the root of all Hydrean technology, ancient as the stone ax to other species.
I thought about how contentious Hydrean/Shil relationships were said to be. Their arid home planet was off limits to all but certified personnel who had been trained how to handle the dangerous mix of flora/fauna that instead of being different groups, was just a single taxonomy that had no distinction between predator and prey. With their complex biology, a Hydrean needed to undergo extensive body modification just to exist off their home world.
Cee left the room with a friendly goodbye and offered assistance “Hello Klein, I am Ka’tel. It’s wonderful to meet you. I am with the Imperial Child Assistance Division, or ICAD. My job is to help interspecies fosters and adoptions. How are you feeling today?”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth as they spoke. Triangular, and made of burnished metal meant to tear off chunks of animal, plant, or even rock, whole and let their stomachs’ mix of acids dissolve it into something the rest their body could use.
‘The agent in charge of your welfare is a plant/animal hybrid with a diet of ‘yes’, your doctor is a wholesome orange 40K mechanicus, and your crush is a were-lion, you are not ok .’ Squirrel brain remarked.
“I’m actually pretty good, despite the surgery, it’s actually a common issue for humans.” I said to Ka’tel, because my life was weird before the aliens, squirrel brain was just being a pessimistic asshole.
“Really? Do you know what caused it?” Ka’tel asked.
“It just, happens? Gets irritated or infected and then you need to get it removed.” I said nonchalantly. Ka’tel made a mark on her omni-pad.
“How did you know? It seems dangerous if it can happen suddenly, and you mentioned it before you passed out.” Ka’tel asked tone friendly and conversational.
“Oh, the side of your stomach hurts. I was hoping it was just a pulled muscle bec- Dammit!” I just remembered what happened before I woke up here.
“The raid game! Ko’tasa would have had to substitute for me and she’s not well balanced for our team mix.” I said with a exasperated sigh.
Ka’tel cocked their head to one side, but the tone in her voice was humorous. “You were willing to ignore a possible life-threatening condition for a game?”
I explained, though I felt idiotic now. “I couldn’t tell. I get sore muscles all the time from gym, and sparing, and even from the auxiliary work, honestly my commandant doesn’t really know where to put me sometimes. Last week I helped with road clearing for the new town to go up a few [miles] away, and the girls could barely keep up with me.”
Ka’tel seemed to be enjoying my rambling. “Sounds like you really get put to work.”
“Not really? The auxiliary is the only work I do, and if I wanted to stop I just, can. It’s not like I need to worry about buying food.” I knew what I was saying seemed strange while living in the Imperium.
It was the first hint that Ka’tel was controlling her expressions when she seemed more attentive and… relieved? “That’s delightful news to hear! Is there anything about your living situation that bothers you?”
I paused and thought about it, and really couldn’t see anything. “Not really?”
“Anything, or anyone, you miss from Earth?” Ka’tel asked, stressing that last bit, dropping a mental bomb on my head and I froze, mouth partly open with a half formed response. When was the last time I even thought about Earth as more than an abstract concept? It hadn’t been [six months] since I left but…
I didn’t feel anything.
The last year I lived on Earth, it was like being a ghost. I saw people, I even talked to people, but it was like a thick plate of glass all around me. Today I felt color, and life, and things, but that last year on Earth?
Like radio static.
I looked at Ka’tel, and their expression was one of controlled neutrality. Why was I not freaking out?
I had a sensation of the room spinning. I asked, “No, I don’t really feel anything about Earth, is that normal?”
“I don’t know Klein, by most sentient standards what you went through was unusual, and from what little I know about humans that isn’t propaganda, it’s unusual for humans as well. What I do know is right now you seem happy and healthy, and that’s my top priority.” Ka’tel said as they stood and offered me a stiff plastic card with their contact details on it.
“We will be chatting every other week to see how you are adjusting. I might ask to visit you at the youth auxiliary depot, the gym or at home. I really am glad to see you are doing just fine, but if you ever need a way out, that card has an emergency signal function, just pull the plastic tab.” Ka’tel told me, and was about to open the door before I spoke up.
“How should I refer to you?” I asked, and once they realized, Ka’tel gave me a genuine, toothed, smile that was both menacing and goofy at the same time.
“Most people don’t learn enough Hydrean biology to ask. Her, that’s how everyone in the office sees me, and it’s more convenient socially.” She said, opening the door to an anxious looking Itaro standing next to a serious Ruhal and Reqellia.
“I need to speak to you Ruhal, and Reqellia, you should join us for this conversation as well.” Ka’tel said as she ushered me out.
Cee led us into a gaming room with a long table on one side, and a set of couches facing the wall to wall display on the other. She handed me an overloaded plate of cookies with bottle of water, and stepped out, closing the door behind us. “Eat those, your stomach has healed, but it’s going to need calories to fuel the recovery.”
Only then did I realize I was salivating at the smell of warm sugar, and flour made of Kasan grain, if I was identifying the green color correctly. I put the plate of cookies on the table, and snarfed them as I sat down.
After swallowing the fourth cookie semi-whole, I looked up to see Itaro’s face fighting a war between impatient, apprehensive, and hopeful. I stopped, realizing what I was doing, and sipped some water to stall for time.
I was about to pull my omni-pad out from my pockets when Itaro suddenly put her hand out to stop me. “Wait! Klein, I need to tell you something…”
She was silent for a long moment, what was she worried about?
“I… Like you, as, I find you…. Attractive, and I may have gotten a little…. overprotective when you got hurt.” Itaro said, her voice stuttering.
‘Oh, that makes things easy.’ Squirrel brain was for once, right.
“I like you too.” I said as I leaned over and kissed her.
///// Author’s Commentary
Wow! I couldn’t find a good stopping point so I just kept writing and writing and… It turned into something over 5 thousand words. I spent the last day trying to figure out clear up a few parts. This week I have some time off! So there will probably be another chapter sooner rather than later.2023.04.01 01:21 Adventurous-Map-9400 Growing Up Alien Chapter 17
A homeless teenager reaches out to the Shil’vati on first day of the invasion of Earth.
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
and u/BruhMomentGEE
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
Previous
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as always, comments are welcome.
I regarded my handcuffs with professional disapproval. They had a longer than regular chain for ambulatory movement and inmate processing, by the deep, I could even use them as garrote if needed. They had revealed the limits of their rank with that apology.
“No need to worry. I am sure this will be a formality in less than an hour,” I told them, if there was one thing that was in abundance on the planet Sky it was Interior and undercover commando trainees. I hoped this would probably be their most interesting case all month.
“So, would you care to explain how you are raising a human, that is also considered a military asset?” The agent inquired as she pulled out her slate.
“Of course, Klein surrendered himself and requested medical aid and refugee status. He was willing to answer essential questions regarding human culture that aided in liberating humanity into the Shil’vati Empire. He wouldn’t be safe on Earth anymore, and I mentioned that he was still important in writing my reports. If I had my slate, I could give you the relevant documentation,” I said in a conversational tone, without any of the emotions that weighed the story, and glossing over the specifics.
“No need. I have everything you submitted to the Interior, including his asset designation, the interrogation transcripts, and even his doctor’s contact info. To be honest with you it’s the only reason we haven’t interviewed you yet, even after a dozen calls about a ‘possible trafficked human’ since he arrived. Your information is corroborated with several other departments. The issue now is what the medivac scans found.” The agent pushed a slate towards me with medical notes bolded for emphasis ‘probable severe abuse’.
“The report shows a recent history of blunt force trauma, abrasions, and even muscle tearing, in short. It looks like the human has been systematically tortured for months. You also have recently requested restricted training armor in the human’s size.” The agent explained.
Ah, that was my mistake. I had been treating Klein as another child, just with some unique needs. It looks like there were other considerations, ones that I failed to see.
“I really do need my omni-slate to illustrate this, it’s on my desk right now if one of your assistants could get it?” I asked, hoping they got the suggestion to not leave me with only one interrogator in the room so they wouldn’t be graded too harshly.
They thankfully acquiesced without comment, and with my omni-slate in hand I pulled up the latest video of Klein practicing with me, the speed and brutality was difficult for me to sit through. Then, Klein pulled off his helmet seconds later, laughing in the rain. Unconcerned that, without armor, we could have just killed each other- I was grateful he had, else it might’ve been interpreted quite differently. “The bruising mostly from everyday participation at a Rakiri gym, and some remnants from before I got proper gear for baton practice. He heals extremely fast, and more so, he isn’t happy unless he exercises for at least an hour or two a day.”
I pulled up another video. Klein was sitting at the table bouncing his leg at an ever-increasing pace while trying to focus on a decently complex equation. He finally stood up and started pacing mouthing words as he skipped in time to an unheard rhythm.
“W-what’s he doing?” The agent asked, looking just a tad disturbed by the display of what seemed erratic behavior.
“A sort of dance while playing the song ‘a fine mesh net’ on his headphones. There was a monsoon that Shel weekend, and even I’m not crazy enough to fight in a thunderstorm like that. He does that around the house for an hour, and then finally settles in on a video game,” I explained to the agents, who were looking at me dubiously.
“So, you oversee an adolescent who is an intelligence asset, but also seems poorly fitted for Shil’vati life. Why the baton practice? Wouldn’t that make him even more dangerous, more of an outsider? Are you trying to sabotage his integration? Why not take him shopping, instead, or teach him beauty and self-care routines?” They were antagonizing. Countering every argument to see how I reacted. It seemed they could at least interrogate decently well.
“I hardly call a few quirks ‘poor fitting’. The baton practice is for obvious self-defense. Its intention is to make him dangerous,” I explained, letting the interviewers lead the conversation.
The back and forth went on for a while, but I presented a highlight reel of the last few months. Including a Rakiri gym video when Klein tried to flourish a wall climb and smashed his shoulder on the ledge while face planting into the mud.
The agents would not be arresting me today. They would need medical reports, and would require Klein, Hario, and Compassion Through Deeds to attest while truth scanned that these were sports injuries, and not some conspiracy to commit torture. We were also going to need to see an ICAD agent every two weeks for counseling. I had no idea what ICAD was, but I would investigate them later.
Finally, the agents appeared they were closing up the interview. I tried not to brace myself as they asked the complicated question. “One thing we need to know is, what is Klein to you? If he is just a crucial asset, then why haven’t you contacted a local volunteer family foster? Or was the military asset just a cover to find a male heir?”
I sighed, the truth wasn’t incriminating, but if I didn’t word it right, I would look like the worst sort of military tourist. “I had, originally, taken care of Klein as a key intelligence asset. Within that first week though, I had found that despite the decades of preparation, there wasn’t a process for someone to claim asylum as a child during first contact. He would be in military bureaucratic limbo without an advocate. We both know where he would end up.”
The room cooled by several degrees, which was a pity, I almost got the talkative agent to laugh at Klein’s antics. “Out of duty I investigated ways I could bring him home until I could find resources to place him in a stable situation with all the resources to help a xeno without a community. I found someone who was willing to help in exchange for reports on Klein’s adaptation to Shil’vati lifestyle. That’s Klein’s purpose as a military asset in my home.”
I continued. I was saying more on than I needed to, but if they did a follow up investigation later for some other incident, which was a when, not if, then I wanted this on record. “Klein has become part of this household though, despite, or maybe because, of his oddities. He may not be Shil’vati, but he seems to have integrated well. It’s why, while it was never my intention, when he is an adult, I will offer him full adoption, and title of home guardian.”
I watched the agents exchange looks, then the agent made a few taps on her slate. ‘Upper left, middle center, probably a message app’. I then listened for the telltale taps of a yes as a micro expression of a self-satisfied smile crossed the agent’s face. I decided to stop playing interviewee.
“So, you won the bet on if I would claim the human as my son, how long has that pool been building?” I asked folding my hands together.
The agent answered before she could think. “Two months… Wait!? How did you-”
The agent was cut off by the squawk of the slate’s speaker. “Agents you did well enough with the interview portion, however; you absolutely failed to secure the subject. Could you please illustrate to them why I stressed caution {petal of death’s veil}?”
The code name wasn’t one I had heard in decades, but I wasn’t going to snub an old handler. I kicked on my fast reaction mods to max speed and lunged over the table past the still sitting agents. I pirouetted and twisted the restraints into a loop as I brought them down over the left agent’s head and pulled back carefully, lightly touching the chain of my restraints around the neck of the agent before she could even react.
I kicked off my mods and caught my breath as time returned to normal. Both agents’ eyes went wide with shock as the one not about to be strangled tried to get away to pull out her weapon. “W-who are you!?”
“I’m going to slowly release you and put my hands up, is that everything you needed {hated old friend}?” I directed my question to the slate, using the code High Shil word to show I was playing along.
“More than enough. Agent! Holster your weapon and come back to the safe room. We need to go over security procedures,” the slate responded, and the very brief confrontation was over.
The agents walked out, and Siltan stomped in looking like she could bring about a thunderstorm by pure force of will. “We weren’t the only ones to get visits from the ‘majesty’s’ Interior today. Cee let me know that the Interior is also interrogated Reqellia as well.”
I now understood why these two rookies were here. It was a distraction for me. I grumbled as I picked up my slate and called Reqellia. Her face appeared a second later.
“By the Deep, it’s been a long day,” Reqellia breathed out as I heard a door slam, then she cursed some more.
“Tell me everything. Is Klein ok?” I asked.
“Cee says he’s fine and is waking him up. Klein might be getting a mod himself before she closes him up though because, oh- looks like it’s my day is going to get longer still. ICAD is here, and it’s a Hydrean in a Gearschilde clinic.” Reqellia hung up, and I stared at the phone in confusion.
It was time to find out what ICAD was.
I started to panic as I turned my head, focusing on lettering on a terminal, tried to sigh, and felt what few muscles I could control turn to lead as I sank back on the medical bed. Thank the goddess, it was Shil and Gearschilde lettering on the slate and medical supplies.
“Good afternoon Klein, are you okay? Your heart rate spiked.” I heard Cee, or full name Compassion Through Deeds, speak and turned my head to see her. She wore a dark red lab coat and regarded me with unblinking cybernetic eyes. Most of her orange skin had been replaced with dark steel etched with stylized waves and swirls of silver. Her face still emoted in a pleasant smile, but had that uncanny valley look of unblemished synth skin. I looked down to see a dozen micro surgical tools still inside me.
I should have been screaming at the sight, but all I felt was relief and joy. “Yeah, I just worried for a half second that I had hallucinated the last few months and was actually on a back on Earth on some black-market operating table getting my kidney stolen.”
Cee was aghast. “Does that happen on Earth?”
I would shrug, but again, I couldn’t move, instead I responded. “Rumors of it happening, but I never knew anyone personally.”
Cee reassured me. “Well, good news Klein, you are on Sky, you are in a Gearschilde clinic where stealing vital organs is a legal, moral and religious crime of unrepentant severity. What I have done is remove your appendix, and let the sedatives wear off so we can discuss what you want in its place.”
“In place of my appendix? Why?” I asked, it wasn’t like I really needed the vestigial organ turn internal hand grenade.
“Customary in Gearschilde for surgery is to be about giving a better life than just taking from the body. So, any ideas of what would make your life better?”
I thought about the bruising, the constant having to put healing patches on, and the annoyance of doing so. I thought about the near fatality of almost blowing my appendix, and if something could have fixed the issue before it got out of hand. “What about a healing dispenser? I keep having to put on patches and gel at the end of the day, and if I miss a spot, I will pay for it later.”
Cee gave me a grateful expression. “That’s a perfect first implant. I was worried you were going to ask for something more aggressive. When I was your age, I got my first defensive mod, a retractable forearm knife. Of course, my next surgery was being stitched back together after accidently stabbing myself with it.”
I tried to chuckle, but I didn’t have control of my diaphragm for it. “So, what’s next?”
Cee explained. “Well, the fabricator in the other room is right now creating your implant. It shouldn’t take long; are you ok being immobilized for the next hour or so?”
I thought about it, and honestly, I was still surprised I wasn’t panicking. “No, but I’m going to get really bored just laying here, do the Gearschilde have any good myths or stories?”
I knew I was fishing in an untapped pool that was guaranteed to have something. I wasn’t expecting my doctor to be gleeful at the thought though. “Oh blessed be you child, I am a surgeon priest, half the reason I am in this vocation is to tell stories. I take it you know nothing about Gearschilde mythology, or even our history?”
It was on my list of rabbit holes to get into, but instead I binged the rest of Prince Of The Stars and cried, it was nice. “No, but I would love to hear them.”
“Well if you want to, every Shel we have open services and brunch. But since you are new to Gearschilde mythology we should start with one of my favorites. The story of the Hopestrider.”
The ceiling lights dimmed, and the sterile operating room felt surprisingly cozy as I leaned my head back. Listening to Cee starting up the tale. “Our sect requires us to lead what can best be called ‘child technician classes’. Learning to take care of machines, which includes us by the start of adolescence, if not before. It’s a critical life skill, and teaching it is considered an important part of our religious studies.”
‘Cyberpunk VeggieTales’ Squirrel brain chittered.
No one wants your opinion squirrel brain. I thought back.
Cee paused for dramatic effect. “Then, everything changed.”
“The ground shook, and the mountain kingdoms erupted in fire and molten rock. Radioactive dust from these now volcanoes made the centers of civilization barren and deadly. Only the wasteland colonies in the poisonous mists provided any refuge, and so king and commoner alike huddled in the once disposable outposts of a ruined world. Our story starts a generation after the calamity with an unlucky child.”
I heard a ding, Cee stopped as the ceiling lights came up. “Oh dear, let me stop for a second to get the implant.”
I leaned back and thought about her nightmare world. When Cee returned, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes, too engrossed in the imagery of the story. “What happened to the child?”
I could hear the whirring as she started to work. Her voice I realized had taken a more scripted cadence. She must have automated her voice so she could focus. “In a metalworker’s home, a child was born with broken legs and brittle bones. It was common in those days for such a child to die that way. It was their first born and the parents did everything they could to save them. A surgeon was called. The child lost their legs, but kept their life.”
“The child lived in the workshop. Kept warm by the hearth’s fire, even unable to walk, they were curious. Day in and out, they watched their parents construct machines that helped the community make food, filter the air, and defend the homes from the starving, mutated, monsters that circled the fortress walls. The child felt helpless though. Only able to crawl within the confines of the home or be carried around like cargo about the maze-like town of winding stairs and narrow passageways.
“They spent much of their time learning, sitting near the hearth to keep warm, they did the careful work of filing gears and wheels needed to control what could be automated as each hand replaced was another that could be spent doing something else critical to keep the community alive. Still, the child wanted to do more. They could not deliver what they made, and had to rely on others to help them at every turn in life.”
“Little did the child know that in the hearth a machine spirit lived, getting by eating scrap metal that fell in and sleeping at night on the bed of embers. The machine spirit saw the child’s wish, an invention without form, and turned it into a dream for the child, since new machines would mean new machine spirits to play with.”
That night the child saw themselves flying over the cold gray landscape on a pair of machine legs. Traveling the dangerous paths to other towns, and giving the isolated towns hope and community. The child awoke with joy and crawled over to his workbench littered with scrap metal, now children….”
Cee stopped talking and her voice went back to an unscripted rhythm. “I just realized we can’t do the practical part of this story. In class each kid gets a hope strider stuffy with snaps to attach legs they make. We give them bits of copper. Show them how to bend and hammer it, and how to bond it by wrapping the joint in solder and then applying heat with a soldering iron heated in their own toy ‘hearth’ with a safety cover. Still we get a daily small burn or cut, but that in itself is a valuable lesson in tool safety.”
It sounded adorable in a weird, steampunk way. “Sounds fun, so, new legs?”
Cee got the que, as much as I loved the story, and the talk about kindergarten metal shop, I was still immobilized on the operating table. I heard surgical whirring, and the scripted voice came back. “Yes, the child works all night until they fit the new legs on, and for the first time stand up on their own! The parents are overjoyed as they watch them move about the house and that afternoon, with the help of an iron bar as a cane, they walk around their community by themselves.”
“However, it isn’t long before the legs start to see wear and tear, but the child persists, not wanting to stop and fix the creaking joints, until one day the legs stop working altogether and they fall down in a twisting staircase. Carried back to the workshop, they rest for days to heal before they are able to work again. Constructing a new set from the remains of the old. Now…”
My whole body had that pins and needles feel and I tried to move my fingers, but it was sporadic and jerky. Cee distracted me by explaining my new implant. “So, this implant is very basic. It can only be requested to send diagnostic data. The implant only administers more healing serum at a safe, steady rate if, and only if, it doesn’t detect any in your bloodstream. There is an injection site with a color change circle around it. It uses standard go, caution, stop colors to let you know if it’s functioning. I want to wave your omni-pad over the site and check the diagnostics at least once a day. It should hopefully catch if something like this is happening again.”
I tried to not move as I felt my body twitch. My gut felt like I had been run over, repeatedly. I asked, “why didn’t my medical monitoring implant catch this?”
Cee explained. “That’s only good for basic vitals. Near universal indicators of life and activity such as heart rate and blood pressure. The new implant will be able to scan for elevated protein counts. So, if one of your other internal organs starts to malfunction you can get a more unambiguous message that I hope you won’t ignore before getting medivac’d through the city.”
I chuckled a little at that, and it hurt. “Ow, ok, no movement. I thought it was just a pulled muscle or something.”
Cee looked down at me sternly, and her voice took on a deeper, more authoritative tone. “Child, more than enough Gearschilde have died thinking they can just, push themselves past their organic parts failing, if you have a torn muscle that hurts after you’ve used healing gel, then it’s serious enough you need to come see me, or another xeno-doctor, immediately. That’s why I hope your new implant can fix things before it gets to that point.”
Cee brightened after that and went back to the explanation of my implant. “Now that I scolded you, there is a color changing circle over your implant’s location. It will change color when the healing serum runs low, or and will start to flash in color, and try to ping your omni-pad if it detects a malfunction. The implant uses a standard Shil’ implant autoinjector, and it will reject anything not meant for red blood standard biology, but still be careful, it’s not a perfect filtering system. Today I’m giving you a set of autoinjectors I want you to use throughout the week. It's fortunate that your implant’s primary function will speed up your recovery time.”
Ok, that’s cool to know, but.
‘What happened to Hopestrider?!’ Squirrel brain demanded.
“So, the story, what happens next?” I asked as Cee helped me sit up. My stomach still hurt, but the feeling was in the overworked muscle category rather than a gut punch.
Cee started to explain as I put on what was essentially gym clothes. Soft, baggy pants and shirt with easy pull away tabs if they needed to remove the clothes quickly for checkups and surgical intervention. “Well, we don’t have time to go over the Hope Strider as a story, or even a summary, but if you want to, my husband teaches the child technician class during open services on Shel, you could sit in and listen.
Right now, I will give you a family crafted picture book that tells the core story of Hope Strider growing up, and making their first delivery. After that it’s a loose selection of legends that are attributed to Hope Strider as they grow older and more accomplished, but while I get that book, I need you to speak to someone.”
Cee led me out of the operating room, and into a comfortable looking lounge where a… Hydrean was sitting in an Imperial business uniform reading an omni-pad. My brain pulled everything I knew of Hydreans out. A rabbit hole I had dug into one rainy Shel on the public information repositories.
She, they, single gendered I reminded myself, looked up and smiled at me calmly, mouth closed for politeness. Their skin was grass green with artful patches of bark on her face and neck, the result of cosmetic scarification. They looked human, or Shil’oid, but that was purposefully done. Even the somewhat standard looking ‘desert walker’ Hydreans normally had more, or less, limbs than standard. Biological modification was at the root of all Hydrean technology, ancient as the stone ax to other species.
I thought about how contentious Hydrean/Shil relationships were said to be. Their arid home planet was off limits to all but certified personnel who had been trained how to handle the dangerous mix of flora/fauna that instead of being different groups, was just a single taxonomy that had no distinction between predator and prey. With their complex biology, a Hydrean needed to undergo extensive body modification just to exist off their home world.
Cee left the room with a friendly goodbye and offered assistance “Hello Klein, I am Ka’tel. It’s wonderful to meet you. I am with the Imperial Child Assistance Division, or ICAD. My job is to help interspecies fosters and adoptions. How are you feeling today?”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth as they spoke. Triangular, and made of burnished metal meant to tear off chunks of animal, plant, or even rock, whole and let their stomachs’ mix of acids dissolve it into something the rest their body could use.
‘The agent in charge of your welfare is a plant/animal hybrid with a diet of ‘yes’, your doctor is a wholesome orange 40K mechanicus, and your crush is a were-lion, you are not ok .’ Squirrel brain remarked.
“I’m actually pretty good, despite the surgery, it’s actually a common issue for humans.” I said to Ka’tel, because my life was weird before the aliens, squirrel brain was just being a pessimistic asshole.
“Really? Do you know what caused it?” Ka’tel asked.
“It just, happens? Gets irritated or infected and then you need to get it removed.” I said nonchalantly. Ka’tel made a mark on her omni-pad.
“How did you know? It seems dangerous if it can happen suddenly, and you mentioned it before you passed out.” Ka’tel asked tone friendly and conversational.
“Oh, the side of your stomach hurts. I was hoping it was just a pulled muscle bec- Dammit!” I just remembered what happened before I woke up here.
“The raid game! Ko’tasa would have had to substitute for me and she’s not well balanced for our team mix.” I said with a exasperated sigh.
Ka’tel cocked their head to one side, but the tone in her voice was humorous. “You were willing to ignore a possible life-threatening condition for a game?”
I explained, though I felt idiotic now. “I couldn’t tell. I get sore muscles all the time from gym, and sparing, and even from the auxiliary work, honestly my commandant doesn’t really know where to put me sometimes. Last week I helped with road clearing for the new town to go up a few [miles] away, and the girls could barely keep up with me.”
Ka’tel seemed to be enjoying my rambling. “Sounds like you really get put to work.”
“Not really? The auxiliary is the only work I do, and if I wanted to stop I just, can. It’s not like I need to worry about buying food.” I knew what I was saying seemed strange while living in the Imperium.
It was the first hint that Ka’tel was controlling her expressions when she seemed more attentive and… relieved? “That’s delightful news to hear! Is there anything about your living situation that bothers you?”
I paused and thought about it, and really couldn’t see anything. “Not really?”
“Anything, or anyone, you miss from Earth?” Ka’tel asked, stressing that last bit, dropping a mental bomb on my head and I froze, mouth partly open with a half formed response. When was the last time I even thought about Earth as more than an abstract concept? It hadn’t been [six months] since I left but…
I didn’t feel anything.
The last year I lived on Earth, it was like being a ghost. I saw people, I even talked to people, but it was like a thick plate of glass all around me. Today I felt color, and life, and things, but that last year on Earth?
Like radio static.
I looked at Ka’tel, and their expression was one of controlled neutrality. Why was I not freaking out?
I had a sensation of the room spinning. I asked, “No, I don’t really feel anything about Earth, is that normal?”
“I don’t know Klein, by most sentient standards what you went through was unusual, and from what little I know about humans that isn’t propaganda, it’s unusual for humans as well. What I do know is right now you seem happy and healthy, and that’s my top priority.” Ka’tel said as they stood and offered me a stiff plastic card with their contact details on it.
“We will be chatting every other week to see how you are adjusting. I might ask to visit you at the youth auxiliary depot, the gym or at home. I really am glad to see you are doing just fine, but if you ever need a way out, that card has an emergency signal function, just pull the plastic tab.” Ka’tel told me, and was about to open the door before I spoke up.
“How should I refer to you?” I asked, and once they realized, Ka’tel gave me a genuine, toothed, smile that was both menacing and goofy at the same time.
“Most people don’t learn enough Hydrean biology to ask. Her, that’s how everyone in the office sees me, and it’s more convenient socially.” She said, opening the door to an anxious looking Itaro standing next to a serious Ruhal and Reqellia.
“I need to speak to you Ruhal, and Reqellia, you should join us for this conversation as well.” Ka’tel said as she ushered me out.
Cee led us into a gaming room with a long table on one side, and a set of couches facing the wall to wall display on the other. She handed me an overloaded plate of cookies with bottle of water, and stepped out, closing the door behind us. “Eat those, your stomach has healed, but it’s going to need calories to fuel the recovery.”
Only then did I realize I was salivating at the smell of warm sugar, and flour made of Kasan grain, if I was identifying the green color correctly. I put the plate of cookies on the table, and snarfed them as I sat down.
After swallowing the fourth cookie semi-whole, I looked up to see Itaro’s face fighting a war between impatient, apprehensive, and hopeful. I stopped, realizing what I was doing, and sipped some water to stall for time.
I was about to pull my omni-pad out from my pockets when Itaro suddenly put her hand out to stop me. “Wait! Klein, I need to tell you something…”
She was silent for a long moment, what was she worried about?
“I… Like you, as, I find you…. Attractive, and I may have gotten a little…. overprotective when you got hurt.” Itaro said, her voice stuttering.
‘Oh, that makes things easy.’ Squirrel brain was for once, right.
“I like you too.” I said as I leaned over and kissed her.
submitted by Adventurous-Map-9400 to Sexyspacebabes [link] [comments]
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
and u/BruhMomentGEE
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
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as always, comments are welcome.
Chapter 17:
Thanks to the author of Alien-Nation for editing this chapter!Ruhal:
“We are sorry about the restraints. Your dossier has a security lock from the Office of Interior that I can’t even read, and all our supervisor could tell us was ‘interview with caution’,” one of the two agents explained.I regarded my handcuffs with professional disapproval. They had a longer than regular chain for ambulatory movement and inmate processing, by the deep, I could even use them as garrote if needed. They had revealed the limits of their rank with that apology.
“No need to worry. I am sure this will be a formality in less than an hour,” I told them, if there was one thing that was in abundance on the planet Sky it was Interior and undercover commando trainees. I hoped this would probably be their most interesting case all month.
“So, would you care to explain how you are raising a human, that is also considered a military asset?” The agent inquired as she pulled out her slate.
“Of course, Klein surrendered himself and requested medical aid and refugee status. He was willing to answer essential questions regarding human culture that aided in liberating humanity into the Shil’vati Empire. He wouldn’t be safe on Earth anymore, and I mentioned that he was still important in writing my reports. If I had my slate, I could give you the relevant documentation,” I said in a conversational tone, without any of the emotions that weighed the story, and glossing over the specifics.
“No need. I have everything you submitted to the Interior, including his asset designation, the interrogation transcripts, and even his doctor’s contact info. To be honest with you it’s the only reason we haven’t interviewed you yet, even after a dozen calls about a ‘possible trafficked human’ since he arrived. Your information is corroborated with several other departments. The issue now is what the medivac scans found.” The agent pushed a slate towards me with medical notes bolded for emphasis ‘probable severe abuse’.
“The report shows a recent history of blunt force trauma, abrasions, and even muscle tearing, in short. It looks like the human has been systematically tortured for months. You also have recently requested restricted training armor in the human’s size.” The agent explained.
Ah, that was my mistake. I had been treating Klein as another child, just with some unique needs. It looks like there were other considerations, ones that I failed to see.
“I really do need my omni-slate to illustrate this, it’s on my desk right now if one of your assistants could get it?” I asked, hoping they got the suggestion to not leave me with only one interrogator in the room so they wouldn’t be graded too harshly.
They thankfully acquiesced without comment, and with my omni-slate in hand I pulled up the latest video of Klein practicing with me, the speed and brutality was difficult for me to sit through. Then, Klein pulled off his helmet seconds later, laughing in the rain. Unconcerned that, without armor, we could have just killed each other- I was grateful he had, else it might’ve been interpreted quite differently. “The bruising mostly from everyday participation at a Rakiri gym, and some remnants from before I got proper gear for baton practice. He heals extremely fast, and more so, he isn’t happy unless he exercises for at least an hour or two a day.”
I pulled up another video. Klein was sitting at the table bouncing his leg at an ever-increasing pace while trying to focus on a decently complex equation. He finally stood up and started pacing mouthing words as he skipped in time to an unheard rhythm.
“W-what’s he doing?” The agent asked, looking just a tad disturbed by the display of what seemed erratic behavior.
“A sort of dance while playing the song ‘a fine mesh net’ on his headphones. There was a monsoon that Shel weekend, and even I’m not crazy enough to fight in a thunderstorm like that. He does that around the house for an hour, and then finally settles in on a video game,” I explained to the agents, who were looking at me dubiously.
“So, you oversee an adolescent who is an intelligence asset, but also seems poorly fitted for Shil’vati life. Why the baton practice? Wouldn’t that make him even more dangerous, more of an outsider? Are you trying to sabotage his integration? Why not take him shopping, instead, or teach him beauty and self-care routines?” They were antagonizing. Countering every argument to see how I reacted. It seemed they could at least interrogate decently well.
“I hardly call a few quirks ‘poor fitting’. The baton practice is for obvious self-defense. Its intention is to make him dangerous,” I explained, letting the interviewers lead the conversation.
The back and forth went on for a while, but I presented a highlight reel of the last few months. Including a Rakiri gym video when Klein tried to flourish a wall climb and smashed his shoulder on the ledge while face planting into the mud.
The agents would not be arresting me today. They would need medical reports, and would require Klein, Hario, and Compassion Through Deeds to attest while truth scanned that these were sports injuries, and not some conspiracy to commit torture. We were also going to need to see an ICAD agent every two weeks for counseling. I had no idea what ICAD was, but I would investigate them later.
Finally, the agents appeared they were closing up the interview. I tried not to brace myself as they asked the complicated question. “One thing we need to know is, what is Klein to you? If he is just a crucial asset, then why haven’t you contacted a local volunteer family foster? Or was the military asset just a cover to find a male heir?”
I sighed, the truth wasn’t incriminating, but if I didn’t word it right, I would look like the worst sort of military tourist. “I had, originally, taken care of Klein as a key intelligence asset. Within that first week though, I had found that despite the decades of preparation, there wasn’t a process for someone to claim asylum as a child during first contact. He would be in military bureaucratic limbo without an advocate. We both know where he would end up.”
The room cooled by several degrees, which was a pity, I almost got the talkative agent to laugh at Klein’s antics. “Out of duty I investigated ways I could bring him home until I could find resources to place him in a stable situation with all the resources to help a xeno without a community. I found someone who was willing to help in exchange for reports on Klein’s adaptation to Shil’vati lifestyle. That’s Klein’s purpose as a military asset in my home.”
I continued. I was saying more on than I needed to, but if they did a follow up investigation later for some other incident, which was a when, not if, then I wanted this on record. “Klein has become part of this household though, despite, or maybe because, of his oddities. He may not be Shil’vati, but he seems to have integrated well. It’s why, while it was never my intention, when he is an adult, I will offer him full adoption, and title of home guardian.”
I watched the agents exchange looks, then the agent made a few taps on her slate. ‘Upper left, middle center, probably a message app’. I then listened for the telltale taps of a yes as a micro expression of a self-satisfied smile crossed the agent’s face. I decided to stop playing interviewee.
“So, you won the bet on if I would claim the human as my son, how long has that pool been building?” I asked folding my hands together.
The agent answered before she could think. “Two months… Wait!? How did you-”
The agent was cut off by the squawk of the slate’s speaker. “Agents you did well enough with the interview portion, however; you absolutely failed to secure the subject. Could you please illustrate to them why I stressed caution {petal of death’s veil}?”
The code name wasn’t one I had heard in decades, but I wasn’t going to snub an old handler. I kicked on my fast reaction mods to max speed and lunged over the table past the still sitting agents. I pirouetted and twisted the restraints into a loop as I brought them down over the left agent’s head and pulled back carefully, lightly touching the chain of my restraints around the neck of the agent before she could even react.
I kicked off my mods and caught my breath as time returned to normal. Both agents’ eyes went wide with shock as the one not about to be strangled tried to get away to pull out her weapon. “W-who are you!?”
“I’m going to slowly release you and put my hands up, is that everything you needed {hated old friend}?” I directed my question to the slate, using the code High Shil word to show I was playing along.
“More than enough. Agent! Holster your weapon and come back to the safe room. We need to go over security procedures,” the slate responded, and the very brief confrontation was over.
The agents walked out, and Siltan stomped in looking like she could bring about a thunderstorm by pure force of will. “We weren’t the only ones to get visits from the ‘majesty’s’ Interior today. Cee let me know that the Interior is also interrogated Reqellia as well.”
I now understood why these two rookies were here. It was a distraction for me. I grumbled as I picked up my slate and called Reqellia. Her face appeared a second later.
“By the Deep, it’s been a long day,” Reqellia breathed out as I heard a door slam, then she cursed some more.
“Tell me everything. Is Klein ok?” I asked.
“Cee says he’s fine and is waking him up. Klein might be getting a mod himself before she closes him up though because, oh- looks like it’s my day is going to get longer still. ICAD is here, and it’s a Hydrean in a Gearschilde clinic.” Reqellia hung up, and I stared at the phone in confusion.
It was time to find out what ICAD was.
Klein:
I blearily came to, as high powered, piercing white light flooded my half open eyes. I tried to move my arm to shield my face and found I couldn’t. Actually, I couldn't move or even feel anything from the neck down.I started to panic as I turned my head, focusing on lettering on a terminal, tried to sigh, and felt what few muscles I could control turn to lead as I sank back on the medical bed. Thank the goddess, it was Shil and Gearschilde lettering on the slate and medical supplies.
“Good afternoon Klein, are you okay? Your heart rate spiked.” I heard Cee, or full name Compassion Through Deeds, speak and turned my head to see her. She wore a dark red lab coat and regarded me with unblinking cybernetic eyes. Most of her orange skin had been replaced with dark steel etched with stylized waves and swirls of silver. Her face still emoted in a pleasant smile, but had that uncanny valley look of unblemished synth skin. I looked down to see a dozen micro surgical tools still inside me.
I should have been screaming at the sight, but all I felt was relief and joy. “Yeah, I just worried for a half second that I had hallucinated the last few months and was actually on a back on Earth on some black-market operating table getting my kidney stolen.”
Cee was aghast. “Does that happen on Earth?”
I would shrug, but again, I couldn’t move, instead I responded. “Rumors of it happening, but I never knew anyone personally.”
Cee reassured me. “Well, good news Klein, you are on Sky, you are in a Gearschilde clinic where stealing vital organs is a legal, moral and religious crime of unrepentant severity. What I have done is remove your appendix, and let the sedatives wear off so we can discuss what you want in its place.”
“In place of my appendix? Why?” I asked, it wasn’t like I really needed the vestigial organ turn internal hand grenade.
“Customary in Gearschilde for surgery is to be about giving a better life than just taking from the body. So, any ideas of what would make your life better?”
I thought about the bruising, the constant having to put healing patches on, and the annoyance of doing so. I thought about the near fatality of almost blowing my appendix, and if something could have fixed the issue before it got out of hand. “What about a healing dispenser? I keep having to put on patches and gel at the end of the day, and if I miss a spot, I will pay for it later.”
Cee gave me a grateful expression. “That’s a perfect first implant. I was worried you were going to ask for something more aggressive. When I was your age, I got my first defensive mod, a retractable forearm knife. Of course, my next surgery was being stitched back together after accidently stabbing myself with it.”
I tried to chuckle, but I didn’t have control of my diaphragm for it. “So, what’s next?”
Cee explained. “Well, the fabricator in the other room is right now creating your implant. It shouldn’t take long; are you ok being immobilized for the next hour or so?”
I thought about it, and honestly, I was still surprised I wasn’t panicking. “No, but I’m going to get really bored just laying here, do the Gearschilde have any good myths or stories?”
I knew I was fishing in an untapped pool that was guaranteed to have something. I wasn’t expecting my doctor to be gleeful at the thought though. “Oh blessed be you child, I am a surgeon priest, half the reason I am in this vocation is to tell stories. I take it you know nothing about Gearschilde mythology, or even our history?”
It was on my list of rabbit holes to get into, but instead I binged the rest of Prince Of The Stars and cried, it was nice. “No, but I would love to hear them.”
“Well if you want to, every Shel we have open services and brunch. But since you are new to Gearschilde mythology we should start with one of my favorites. The story of the Hopestrider.”
The ceiling lights dimmed, and the sterile operating room felt surprisingly cozy as I leaned my head back. Listening to Cee starting up the tale. “Our sect requires us to lead what can best be called ‘child technician classes’. Learning to take care of machines, which includes us by the start of adolescence, if not before. It’s a critical life skill, and teaching it is considered an important part of our religious studies.”
‘Cyberpunk VeggieTales’ Squirrel brain chittered.
No one wants your opinion squirrel brain. I thought back.
Cee’s story: Hope Strider
“Long ago our world was full of harsh life. The valleys were often filled with poisonous mists and deadly predators that could rip apart even the strongest of our people. The mountain kingdoms were brutal fiefdoms that sent many to their deaths mining precious metals from the dangerous wastes of the valleys. Drilling into the heart of the mountains provided the power necessary to purify water, and later, steam engines turned those fiefdoms into empires. Expanding into the wastes using the lowest class of people as its foundation.”Cee paused for dramatic effect. “Then, everything changed.”
“The ground shook, and the mountain kingdoms erupted in fire and molten rock. Radioactive dust from these now volcanoes made the centers of civilization barren and deadly. Only the wasteland colonies in the poisonous mists provided any refuge, and so king and commoner alike huddled in the once disposable outposts of a ruined world. Our story starts a generation after the calamity with an unlucky child.”
I heard a ding, Cee stopped as the ceiling lights came up. “Oh dear, let me stop for a second to get the implant.”
I leaned back and thought about her nightmare world. When Cee returned, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes, too engrossed in the imagery of the story. “What happened to the child?”
I could hear the whirring as she started to work. Her voice I realized had taken a more scripted cadence. She must have automated her voice so she could focus. “In a metalworker’s home, a child was born with broken legs and brittle bones. It was common in those days for such a child to die that way. It was their first born and the parents did everything they could to save them. A surgeon was called. The child lost their legs, but kept their life.”
“The child lived in the workshop. Kept warm by the hearth’s fire, even unable to walk, they were curious. Day in and out, they watched their parents construct machines that helped the community make food, filter the air, and defend the homes from the starving, mutated, monsters that circled the fortress walls. The child felt helpless though. Only able to crawl within the confines of the home or be carried around like cargo about the maze-like town of winding stairs and narrow passageways.
“They spent much of their time learning, sitting near the hearth to keep warm, they did the careful work of filing gears and wheels needed to control what could be automated as each hand replaced was another that could be spent doing something else critical to keep the community alive. Still, the child wanted to do more. They could not deliver what they made, and had to rely on others to help them at every turn in life.”
“Little did the child know that in the hearth a machine spirit lived, getting by eating scrap metal that fell in and sleeping at night on the bed of embers. The machine spirit saw the child’s wish, an invention without form, and turned it into a dream for the child, since new machines would mean new machine spirits to play with.”
That night the child saw themselves flying over the cold gray landscape on a pair of machine legs. Traveling the dangerous paths to other towns, and giving the isolated towns hope and community. The child awoke with joy and crawled over to his workbench littered with scrap metal, now children….”
Cee stopped talking and her voice went back to an unscripted rhythm. “I just realized we can’t do the practical part of this story. In class each kid gets a hope strider stuffy with snaps to attach legs they make. We give them bits of copper. Show them how to bend and hammer it, and how to bond it by wrapping the joint in solder and then applying heat with a soldering iron heated in their own toy ‘hearth’ with a safety cover. Still we get a daily small burn or cut, but that in itself is a valuable lesson in tool safety.”
It sounded adorable in a weird, steampunk way. “Sounds fun, so, new legs?”
Cee got the que, as much as I loved the story, and the talk about kindergarten metal shop, I was still immobilized on the operating table. I heard surgical whirring, and the scripted voice came back. “Yes, the child works all night until they fit the new legs on, and for the first time stand up on their own! The parents are overjoyed as they watch them move about the house and that afternoon, with the help of an iron bar as a cane, they walk around their community by themselves.”
“However, it isn’t long before the legs start to see wear and tear, but the child persists, not wanting to stop and fix the creaking joints, until one day the legs stop working altogether and they fall down in a twisting staircase. Carried back to the workshop, they rest for days to heal before they are able to work again. Constructing a new set from the remains of the old. Now…”
Klein:
Cee stopped again, but this time she had moved away from me and was putting the now bloody surgical tools into a sanitizing system. “We're done! I am going to start removing the nerve blocks, so you’re going to be sore, but if things get too painful, let me know. Please, try not to move anything but your hands right now, even then I would advise against it.”My whole body had that pins and needles feel and I tried to move my fingers, but it was sporadic and jerky. Cee distracted me by explaining my new implant. “So, this implant is very basic. It can only be requested to send diagnostic data. The implant only administers more healing serum at a safe, steady rate if, and only if, it doesn’t detect any in your bloodstream. There is an injection site with a color change circle around it. It uses standard go, caution, stop colors to let you know if it’s functioning. I want to wave your omni-pad over the site and check the diagnostics at least once a day. It should hopefully catch if something like this is happening again.”
I tried to not move as I felt my body twitch. My gut felt like I had been run over, repeatedly. I asked, “why didn’t my medical monitoring implant catch this?”
Cee explained. “That’s only good for basic vitals. Near universal indicators of life and activity such as heart rate and blood pressure. The new implant will be able to scan for elevated protein counts. So, if one of your other internal organs starts to malfunction you can get a more unambiguous message that I hope you won’t ignore before getting medivac’d through the city.”
I chuckled a little at that, and it hurt. “Ow, ok, no movement. I thought it was just a pulled muscle or something.”
Cee looked down at me sternly, and her voice took on a deeper, more authoritative tone. “Child, more than enough Gearschilde have died thinking they can just, push themselves past their organic parts failing, if you have a torn muscle that hurts after you’ve used healing gel, then it’s serious enough you need to come see me, or another xeno-doctor, immediately. That’s why I hope your new implant can fix things before it gets to that point.”
Cee brightened after that and went back to the explanation of my implant. “Now that I scolded you, there is a color changing circle over your implant’s location. It will change color when the healing serum runs low, or and will start to flash in color, and try to ping your omni-pad if it detects a malfunction. The implant uses a standard Shil’ implant autoinjector, and it will reject anything not meant for red blood standard biology, but still be careful, it’s not a perfect filtering system. Today I’m giving you a set of autoinjectors I want you to use throughout the week. It's fortunate that your implant’s primary function will speed up your recovery time.”
Ok, that’s cool to know, but.
‘What happened to Hopestrider?!’ Squirrel brain demanded.
“So, the story, what happens next?” I asked as Cee helped me sit up. My stomach still hurt, but the feeling was in the overworked muscle category rather than a gut punch.
Cee started to explain as I put on what was essentially gym clothes. Soft, baggy pants and shirt with easy pull away tabs if they needed to remove the clothes quickly for checkups and surgical intervention. “Well, we don’t have time to go over the Hope Strider as a story, or even a summary, but if you want to, my husband teaches the child technician class during open services on Shel, you could sit in and listen.
Right now, I will give you a family crafted picture book that tells the core story of Hope Strider growing up, and making their first delivery. After that it’s a loose selection of legends that are attributed to Hope Strider as they grow older and more accomplished, but while I get that book, I need you to speak to someone.”
Cee led me out of the operating room, and into a comfortable looking lounge where a… Hydrean was sitting in an Imperial business uniform reading an omni-pad. My brain pulled everything I knew of Hydreans out. A rabbit hole I had dug into one rainy Shel on the public information repositories.
She, they, single gendered I reminded myself, looked up and smiled at me calmly, mouth closed for politeness. Their skin was grass green with artful patches of bark on her face and neck, the result of cosmetic scarification. They looked human, or Shil’oid, but that was purposefully done. Even the somewhat standard looking ‘desert walker’ Hydreans normally had more, or less, limbs than standard. Biological modification was at the root of all Hydrean technology, ancient as the stone ax to other species.
I thought about how contentious Hydrean/Shil relationships were said to be. Their arid home planet was off limits to all but certified personnel who had been trained how to handle the dangerous mix of flora/fauna that instead of being different groups, was just a single taxonomy that had no distinction between predator and prey. With their complex biology, a Hydrean needed to undergo extensive body modification just to exist off their home world.
Cee left the room with a friendly goodbye and offered assistance “Hello Klein, I am Ka’tel. It’s wonderful to meet you. I am with the Imperial Child Assistance Division, or ICAD. My job is to help interspecies fosters and adoptions. How are you feeling today?”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth as they spoke. Triangular, and made of burnished metal meant to tear off chunks of animal, plant, or even rock, whole and let their stomachs’ mix of acids dissolve it into something the rest their body could use.
‘The agent in charge of your welfare is a plant/animal hybrid with a diet of ‘yes’, your doctor is a wholesome orange 40K mechanicus, and your crush is a were-lion, you are not ok .’ Squirrel brain remarked.
“I’m actually pretty good, despite the surgery, it’s actually a common issue for humans.” I said to Ka’tel, because my life was weird before the aliens, squirrel brain was just being a pessimistic asshole.
“Really? Do you know what caused it?” Ka’tel asked.
“It just, happens? Gets irritated or infected and then you need to get it removed.” I said nonchalantly. Ka’tel made a mark on her omni-pad.
“How did you know? It seems dangerous if it can happen suddenly, and you mentioned it before you passed out.” Ka’tel asked tone friendly and conversational.
“Oh, the side of your stomach hurts. I was hoping it was just a pulled muscle bec- Dammit!” I just remembered what happened before I woke up here.
“The raid game! Ko’tasa would have had to substitute for me and she’s not well balanced for our team mix.” I said with a exasperated sigh.
Ka’tel cocked their head to one side, but the tone in her voice was humorous. “You were willing to ignore a possible life-threatening condition for a game?”
I explained, though I felt idiotic now. “I couldn’t tell. I get sore muscles all the time from gym, and sparing, and even from the auxiliary work, honestly my commandant doesn’t really know where to put me sometimes. Last week I helped with road clearing for the new town to go up a few [miles] away, and the girls could barely keep up with me.”
Ka’tel seemed to be enjoying my rambling. “Sounds like you really get put to work.”
“Not really? The auxiliary is the only work I do, and if I wanted to stop I just, can. It’s not like I need to worry about buying food.” I knew what I was saying seemed strange while living in the Imperium.
It was the first hint that Ka’tel was controlling her expressions when she seemed more attentive and… relieved? “That’s delightful news to hear! Is there anything about your living situation that bothers you?”
I paused and thought about it, and really couldn’t see anything. “Not really?”
“Anything, or anyone, you miss from Earth?” Ka’tel asked, stressing that last bit, dropping a mental bomb on my head and I froze, mouth partly open with a half formed response. When was the last time I even thought about Earth as more than an abstract concept? It hadn’t been [six months] since I left but…
I didn’t feel anything.
The last year I lived on Earth, it was like being a ghost. I saw people, I even talked to people, but it was like a thick plate of glass all around me. Today I felt color, and life, and things, but that last year on Earth?
Like radio static.
I looked at Ka’tel, and their expression was one of controlled neutrality. Why was I not freaking out?
I had a sensation of the room spinning. I asked, “No, I don’t really feel anything about Earth, is that normal?”
“I don’t know Klein, by most sentient standards what you went through was unusual, and from what little I know about humans that isn’t propaganda, it’s unusual for humans as well. What I do know is right now you seem happy and healthy, and that’s my top priority.” Ka’tel said as they stood and offered me a stiff plastic card with their contact details on it.
“We will be chatting every other week to see how you are adjusting. I might ask to visit you at the youth auxiliary depot, the gym or at home. I really am glad to see you are doing just fine, but if you ever need a way out, that card has an emergency signal function, just pull the plastic tab.” Ka’tel told me, and was about to open the door before I spoke up.
“How should I refer to you?” I asked, and once they realized, Ka’tel gave me a genuine, toothed, smile that was both menacing and goofy at the same time.
“Most people don’t learn enough Hydrean biology to ask. Her, that’s how everyone in the office sees me, and it’s more convenient socially.” She said, opening the door to an anxious looking Itaro standing next to a serious Ruhal and Reqellia.
“I need to speak to you Ruhal, and Reqellia, you should join us for this conversation as well.” Ka’tel said as she ushered me out.
Cee led us into a gaming room with a long table on one side, and a set of couches facing the wall to wall display on the other. She handed me an overloaded plate of cookies with bottle of water, and stepped out, closing the door behind us. “Eat those, your stomach has healed, but it’s going to need calories to fuel the recovery.”
Only then did I realize I was salivating at the smell of warm sugar, and flour made of Kasan grain, if I was identifying the green color correctly. I put the plate of cookies on the table, and snarfed them as I sat down.
After swallowing the fourth cookie semi-whole, I looked up to see Itaro’s face fighting a war between impatient, apprehensive, and hopeful. I stopped, realizing what I was doing, and sipped some water to stall for time.
I was about to pull my omni-pad out from my pockets when Itaro suddenly put her hand out to stop me. “Wait! Klein, I need to tell you something…”
She was silent for a long moment, what was she worried about?
“I… Like you, as, I find you…. Attractive, and I may have gotten a little…. overprotective when you got hurt.” Itaro said, her voice stuttering.
‘Oh, that makes things easy.’ Squirrel brain was for once, right.
“I like you too.” I said as I leaned over and kissed her.
///// Author’s Commentary
Wow! I couldn’t find a good stopping point so I just kept writing and writing and… It turned into something over 5 thousand words. I spent the last day trying to figure out clear up a few parts. This week I have some time off! So there will probably be another chapter sooner rather than later.2023.04.01 00:04 PepperAntique Wait, is this just GATE? (340/?)
Previous
Writer's note: In Army basic training it's very common to be referred to as fuzzy fuzzy tennis balls by the training cadre because of the shaven heads.
Well. Smeplies look like orange colored kiwis before they're skinned and doused in salt. So... yeah.
Anyways.... DUN DUN DUN
Enjoy.
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"Is that it down there?" James asked as they finally managed to crest the hill they'd been riding up the past thirty minutes or so. "Is that Draidia?"
"Close." Amina said as she peered over his head. "That's the outer burbs- as you call them at the capital- to Draidia." She pointed at the massive vertical spire that rose up nearly a mile to the left of the large, sprawling, town. "That is actually Draidia."
"I thought you said the massive spire was the Griffin's tooth?" He asked.
Amina rummaged in James's bag for a moment before removing the high tech sun glasses that had once belonged to Vickers. She also pulled out his tablet and turned both on before handing them to him.
Gorna galloped ahead a bit. "By the gods it's massive." She said in surprise. "I'd heard tales. But it still boggles the mind."
James shrugged. He didn't wanna be a killjoy and mention that some skyscrapers back home, those still standing after the war anyways, were taller by a decent amount. Still, it was the tallest thing he'd seen in this world.
Instead he put the glasses on and used the controls to zoom in on the thing.
"Look down near the base of it." Amina instructed him as she watched the feed on the tablet. James did as he was told. "That's Draidia. Specifically the castle and base that Alixan uses to defend it in case of attack. See how it's built INTO the Griffin's tooth?
"Yeah. Kinda like some of the Buddhist temples and old Native American desert villages in my world. But like... castle-y."
"You can see all that from here?" Gorna asked as she slowed to join them, looking at the round sunglasses curiously. Amina gestured her over and angled the tablet so she could see. Her eyes widened at the sight of the display.
"Now zoom out a bit." Amina said to James. "Pan out and to the right."
James did, and saw the sparse buildings outside of its wall. Most of them appeared to be tents similar to the ones that James had seen the Petravian army use. Though a lot of them were bordered in black, similar to Alixan's personal army uniforms.
"That's Draidia proper." Amina said. "It's mostly a military camp for Alixan's army, the central Petravian troops we dispatch to bolster them, and sometimes mercenary companies. Though Xan doesn't like relying on them. And I don't see any either."
"Why's it all Military?" James asked curiously. "And why is the civilian population kept separated?"
"The Meridians." Amina said simply. "They have a tendency to send infiltrators and priests to try to get into the civilian population. Xan keeps the city swept clean with constant sweeps of both ground and air troops. But they still get in. They look and talk just like Petravians do. But they don't have the resources to infiltrate Xan's army. He changes the standard uniform every three months. Anyone not matching is captured and interrogated."
And suddenly all of James's uniform inspections throughout the years seemed downright easy.
"Sucks for the grunts." He said.
"Now, pan up and to the left a bit." She said. "See that depression? Can you zoom in on the structure next to it."
James turned the dial on the glasses. The image zoomed, but also got a touch grainier.
"That is the entrance to the Orcragg." She said. "That's the massive canyon that you see behind it."
James zoomed out a bit. The canyon was easy to see from where they were at. But the size and width of it, interrupted only occasionally by spires or small mountains, put the Grand Canyon to shame. This thing had to be at least three or four times it's size.
And it looked like it was full of green tea.
"That green stuff inside is the miasma." She educated him. "Comes from underground. And it's another reason to keep the civilian city far back away from it."
"Lethal?" James asked.
"Oh yeah." She replied. "Few breaths of the stuff won't kill you. But it will probably knock you out. And if it does, odds are you'll get stuck breathing more and more. That's what does the trick?"
"And Orcs don't have that problem?" He asked. He knew from previous conversations that there was some kind of massive Orc based Chiefdom down there in that canyon somewhere. One that was allied with the Petravian kingdom.
"Completely immune." Amina said. "Dwarves can stomach it too. Though they only RESIST the stuff. More than an hour or two in it and they drop too." Then she patted Steve's flank, causing the drake to look back just a bit. "Steve's immune too." Then she tapped a finger on James's temple. "But... DO NOT... EVEN CONSIDER... TESTING. YOUR. IMMUNITY." She said, slowly emphasizing each word.
"Huh. And the Meridians are on the other side?" He wondered, ignoring the jab. "How do they sneak into the civilian populace?"
"Figure that out and Alixan will probably give you every ounce of gold and silver he has at his disposal. And your choice of any griffin in the tooth." She replied. "He's been trying to figure it out ever since he came down here. Hell, before then even."
James panned up while zooming out a bit, when he found the massive earthen spire he kept slowly angling his neck back until he came across some kind of writhing cloud near its peak.
"And there's the griffins." Amina said.
"What?" James asked. Then he quickly began scrolling the zoom in.
Sure enough, the moving cloud was a massive, constantly moving, chaotic, mass of griffins of all sizes and patterns, flying through the sky around the top quarter of the formation.
"By the gods." Gorna said, causing James's jaw to clench a bit as he ground his teeth. But he ignored it.
"There's a reason our army has such a large supply of griffins." Amina said. "And why we set a defensive position here."
"That's a lot of fuckin skykitties." James said. Then he kicked Steve into a faster trot. "Let's get down there."
-----------------------------
Just before dusk a small group of travelers arrived by the eastern road into the Petravian capital.
The leader of the group was a tall, somewhat sickly looking, man of about forty. He rode the seat of his wagon next to a large orc who was armed as the convoy guard. Several men and women marched with them, behind a tall elf who wore a royal soldier's uniform. The ones following her had the shaved heads and simple leather armor and red tunics that marked them as fresh trainees for the guard. The second wagon had several more people and a few large, padlocked, chests.
They stopped at the first checkpoint into the city as the soldiers there moved up to inspect them.
The man in the lead wagon calmed his thoughts and tightened the control on his other bodies, ensuring that only HIS body spoke.
The Soldier among them strode up confidently, pulling a set of papers from a pouch on her belt.
"Evening." The Sergeant of the checkpoint greeted them. "Sergeant." He said with a nod to the elf.
"Sergeant." She replied back as she handed him the papers. "New recruits from the coast."
The checkpoint sergeant looked over the papers, then at the recruits. He nodded with a shrug as he handed the papers back. "Log it." He said to the other guards. One of them was walking down the side of the two wagons, the other wrote the report in the logs. "What're you lot here for?" He asked the man in the wagon.
"We've got some supplies for the Estland Trading Company." Patril said as he focused on being the only body speaking. "Second wagon has some of the straggling refugees from Jadesport. The ones that couldn't find work. Company's bringing em here as favors to their kin."
The Checkpoint Sergeant craned his head back and looked at the second wagon, it was mainly full of what looked like married couples and supplies.
"Medas?" He queried.
"Nothin' impressive Sarge." The younger soldier said as he came walking around the back of the wagons back to the check point. "Just travellin' folks."
"Fair enough." The Sergeant said. "Can't say you'll find home here. We're still dealing with recovery too. But there's always work somewhere." He turned back to the third guard still sitting with the log book. "Refugees and Estland Co. Log it." He said as he stepped aside. "Welcome to the capital. And get some rest. Not to be rude, but you're looking mighty bedraggled my friend."
"That's the plan." Patril said with a smile as he snapped the wagon back into motion.
"Sergeant. You know where to take those lot." The Checkpoint Sergeant said to his Elven counterpart. "Welcome to the royal army smeplie heads." He said as he clapped one on the shoulder. "Serve well."
And just like that, The Agency was back in the capital in force.
submitted by PepperAntique to GATEhouse [link] [comments]
Writer's note: In Army basic training it's very common to be referred to as fuzzy fuzzy tennis balls by the training cadre because of the shaven heads.
Well. Smeplies look like orange colored kiwis before they're skinned and doused in salt. So... yeah.
Anyways.... DUN DUN DUN
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Is that it down there?" James asked as they finally managed to crest the hill they'd been riding up the past thirty minutes or so. "Is that Draidia?"
"Close." Amina said as she peered over his head. "That's the outer burbs- as you call them at the capital- to Draidia." She pointed at the massive vertical spire that rose up nearly a mile to the left of the large, sprawling, town. "That is actually Draidia."
"I thought you said the massive spire was the Griffin's tooth?" He asked.
Amina rummaged in James's bag for a moment before removing the high tech sun glasses that had once belonged to Vickers. She also pulled out his tablet and turned both on before handing them to him.
Gorna galloped ahead a bit. "By the gods it's massive." She said in surprise. "I'd heard tales. But it still boggles the mind."
James shrugged. He didn't wanna be a killjoy and mention that some skyscrapers back home, those still standing after the war anyways, were taller by a decent amount. Still, it was the tallest thing he'd seen in this world.
Instead he put the glasses on and used the controls to zoom in on the thing.
"Look down near the base of it." Amina instructed him as she watched the feed on the tablet. James did as he was told. "That's Draidia. Specifically the castle and base that Alixan uses to defend it in case of attack. See how it's built INTO the Griffin's tooth?
"Yeah. Kinda like some of the Buddhist temples and old Native American desert villages in my world. But like... castle-y."
"You can see all that from here?" Gorna asked as she slowed to join them, looking at the round sunglasses curiously. Amina gestured her over and angled the tablet so she could see. Her eyes widened at the sight of the display.
"Now zoom out a bit." Amina said to James. "Pan out and to the right."
James did, and saw the sparse buildings outside of its wall. Most of them appeared to be tents similar to the ones that James had seen the Petravian army use. Though a lot of them were bordered in black, similar to Alixan's personal army uniforms.
"That's Draidia proper." Amina said. "It's mostly a military camp for Alixan's army, the central Petravian troops we dispatch to bolster them, and sometimes mercenary companies. Though Xan doesn't like relying on them. And I don't see any either."
"Why's it all Military?" James asked curiously. "And why is the civilian population kept separated?"
"The Meridians." Amina said simply. "They have a tendency to send infiltrators and priests to try to get into the civilian population. Xan keeps the city swept clean with constant sweeps of both ground and air troops. But they still get in. They look and talk just like Petravians do. But they don't have the resources to infiltrate Xan's army. He changes the standard uniform every three months. Anyone not matching is captured and interrogated."
And suddenly all of James's uniform inspections throughout the years seemed downright easy.
"Sucks for the grunts." He said.
"Now, pan up and to the left a bit." She said. "See that depression? Can you zoom in on the structure next to it."
James turned the dial on the glasses. The image zoomed, but also got a touch grainier.
"That is the entrance to the Orcragg." She said. "That's the massive canyon that you see behind it."
James zoomed out a bit. The canyon was easy to see from where they were at. But the size and width of it, interrupted only occasionally by spires or small mountains, put the Grand Canyon to shame. This thing had to be at least three or four times it's size.
And it looked like it was full of green tea.
"That green stuff inside is the miasma." She educated him. "Comes from underground. And it's another reason to keep the civilian city far back away from it."
"Lethal?" James asked.
"Oh yeah." She replied. "Few breaths of the stuff won't kill you. But it will probably knock you out. And if it does, odds are you'll get stuck breathing more and more. That's what does the trick?"
"And Orcs don't have that problem?" He asked. He knew from previous conversations that there was some kind of massive Orc based Chiefdom down there in that canyon somewhere. One that was allied with the Petravian kingdom.
"Completely immune." Amina said. "Dwarves can stomach it too. Though they only RESIST the stuff. More than an hour or two in it and they drop too." Then she patted Steve's flank, causing the drake to look back just a bit. "Steve's immune too." Then she tapped a finger on James's temple. "But... DO NOT... EVEN CONSIDER... TESTING. YOUR. IMMUNITY." She said, slowly emphasizing each word.
"Huh. And the Meridians are on the other side?" He wondered, ignoring the jab. "How do they sneak into the civilian populace?"
"Figure that out and Alixan will probably give you every ounce of gold and silver he has at his disposal. And your choice of any griffin in the tooth." She replied. "He's been trying to figure it out ever since he came down here. Hell, before then even."
James panned up while zooming out a bit, when he found the massive earthen spire he kept slowly angling his neck back until he came across some kind of writhing cloud near its peak.
"And there's the griffins." Amina said.
"What?" James asked. Then he quickly began scrolling the zoom in.
Sure enough, the moving cloud was a massive, constantly moving, chaotic, mass of griffins of all sizes and patterns, flying through the sky around the top quarter of the formation.
"By the gods." Gorna said, causing James's jaw to clench a bit as he ground his teeth. But he ignored it.
"There's a reason our army has such a large supply of griffins." Amina said. "And why we set a defensive position here."
"That's a lot of fuckin skykitties." James said. Then he kicked Steve into a faster trot. "Let's get down there."
-----------------------------
Just before dusk a small group of travelers arrived by the eastern road into the Petravian capital.
The leader of the group was a tall, somewhat sickly looking, man of about forty. He rode the seat of his wagon next to a large orc who was armed as the convoy guard. Several men and women marched with them, behind a tall elf who wore a royal soldier's uniform. The ones following her had the shaved heads and simple leather armor and red tunics that marked them as fresh trainees for the guard. The second wagon had several more people and a few large, padlocked, chests.
They stopped at the first checkpoint into the city as the soldiers there moved up to inspect them.
The man in the lead wagon calmed his thoughts and tightened the control on his other bodies, ensuring that only HIS body spoke.
The Soldier among them strode up confidently, pulling a set of papers from a pouch on her belt.
"Evening." The Sergeant of the checkpoint greeted them. "Sergeant." He said with a nod to the elf.
"Sergeant." She replied back as she handed him the papers. "New recruits from the coast."
The checkpoint sergeant looked over the papers, then at the recruits. He nodded with a shrug as he handed the papers back. "Log it." He said to the other guards. One of them was walking down the side of the two wagons, the other wrote the report in the logs. "What're you lot here for?" He asked the man in the wagon.
"We've got some supplies for the Estland Trading Company." Patril said as he focused on being the only body speaking. "Second wagon has some of the straggling refugees from Jadesport. The ones that couldn't find work. Company's bringing em here as favors to their kin."
The Checkpoint Sergeant craned his head back and looked at the second wagon, it was mainly full of what looked like married couples and supplies.
"Medas?" He queried.
"Nothin' impressive Sarge." The younger soldier said as he came walking around the back of the wagons back to the check point. "Just travellin' folks."
"Fair enough." The Sergeant said. "Can't say you'll find home here. We're still dealing with recovery too. But there's always work somewhere." He turned back to the third guard still sitting with the log book. "Refugees and Estland Co. Log it." He said as he stepped aside. "Welcome to the capital. And get some rest. Not to be rude, but you're looking mighty bedraggled my friend."
"That's the plan." Patril said with a smile as he snapped the wagon back into motion.
"Sergeant. You know where to take those lot." The Checkpoint Sergeant said to his Elven counterpart. "Welcome to the royal army smeplie heads." He said as he clapped one on the shoulder. "Serve well."
And just like that, The Agency was back in the capital in force.
2023.03.31 23:58 PepperAntique Wait, is this just GATE? (340/?)
Previous / First
Writer's note: In Army basic training it's very common to be referred to as fuzzy fuzzy tennis balls by the training cadre because of the shaven heads.
Well. Smeplies look like orange colored kiwis before they're skinned and doused in salt. So... yeah.
Anyways.... DUN DUN DUN
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Is that it down there?" James asked as they finally managed to crest the hill they'd been riding up the past thirty minutes or so. "Is that Draidia?"
"Close." Amina said as she peered over his head. "That's the outer burbs- as you call them at the capital- to Draidia." She pointed at the massive vertical spire that rose up nearly a mile to the left of the large, sprawling, town. "That is actually Draidia."
"I thought you said the massive spire was the Griffin's tooth?" He asked.
Amina rummaged in James's bag for a moment before removing the high tech sun glasses that had once belonged to Vickers. She also pulled out his tablet and turned both on before handing them to him.
Gorna galloped ahead a bit. "By the gods it's massive." She said in surprise. "I'd heard tales. But it still boggles the mind."
James shrugged. He didn't wanna be a killjoy and mention that some skyscrapers back home, those still standing after the war anyways, were taller by a decent amount. Still, it was the tallest thing he'd seen in this world.
Instead he put the glasses on and used the controls to zoom in on the thing.
"Look down near the base of it." Amina instructed him as she watched the feed on the tablet. James did as he was told. "That's Draidia. Specifically the castle and base that Alixan uses to defend it in case of attack. See how it's built INTO the Griffin's tooth?
"Yeah. Kinda like some of the Buddhist temples and old Native American desert villages in my world. But like... castle-y."
"You can see all that from here?" Gorna asked as she slowed to join them, looking at the round sunglasses curiously. Amina gestured her over and angled the tablet so she could see. Her eyes widened at the sight of the display.
"Now zoom out a bit." Amina said to James. "Pan out and to the right."
James did, and saw the sparse buildings outside of its wall. Most of them appeared to be tents similar to the ones that James had seen the Petravian army use. Though a lot of them were bordered in black, similar to Alixan's personal army uniforms.
"That's Draidia proper." Amina said. "It's mostly a military camp for Alixan's army, the central Petravian troops we dispatch to bolster them, and sometimes mercenary companies. Though Xan doesn't like relying on them. And I don't see any either."
"Why's it all Military?" James asked curiously. "And why is the civilian population kept separated?"
"The Meridians." Amina said simply. "They have a tendency to send infiltrators and priests to try to get into the civilian population. Xan keeps the city swept clean with constant sweeps of both ground and air troops. But they still get in. They look and talk just like Petravians do. But they don't have the resources to infiltrate Xan's army. He changes the standard uniform every three months. Anyone not matching is captured and interrogated."
And suddenly all of James's uniform inspections throughout the years seemed downright easy.
"Sucks for the grunts." He said.
"Now, pan up and to the left a bit." She said. "See that depression? Can you zoom in on the structure next to it."
James turned the dial on the glasses. The image zoomed, but also got a touch grainier.
"That is the entrance to the Orcragg." She said. "That's the massive canyon that you see behind it."
James zoomed out a bit. The canyon was easy to see from where they were at. But the size and width of it, interrupted only occasionally by spires or small mountains, put the Grand Canyon to shame. This thing had to be at least three or four times it's size.
And it looked like it was full of green tea.
"That green stuff inside is the miasma." She educated him. "Comes from underground. And it's another reason to keep the civilian city far back away from it."
"Lethal?" James asked.
"Oh yeah." She replied. "Few breaths of the stuff won't kill you. But it will probably knock you out. And if it does, odds are you'll get stuck breathing more and more. That's what does the trick?"
"And Orcs don't have that problem?" He asked. He knew from previous conversations that there was some kind of massive Orc based Chiefdom down there in that canyon somewhere. One that was allied with the Petravian kingdom.
"Completely immune." Amina said. "Dwarves can stomach it too. Though they only RESIST the stuff. More than an hour or two in it and they drop too." Then she patted Steve's flank, causing the drake to look back just a bit. "Steve's immune too." Then she tapped a finger on James's temple. "But... DO NOT... EVEN CONSIDER... TESTING. YOUR. IMMUNITY." She said, slowly emphasizing each word.
"Huh. And the Meridians are on the other side?" He wondered, ignoring the jab. "How do they sneak into the civilian populace?"
"Figure that out and Alixan will probably give you every ounce of gold and silver he has at his disposal. And your choice of any griffin in the tooth." She replied. "He's been trying to figure it out ever since he came down here. Hell, before then even."
James panned up while zooming out a bit, when he found the massive earthen spire he kept slowly angling his neck back until he came across some kind of writhing cloud near its peak.
"And there's the griffins." Amina said.
"What?" James asked. Then he quickly began scrolling the zoom in.
Sure enough, the moving cloud was a massive, constantly moving, chaotic, mass of griffins of all sizes and patterns, flying through the sky around the top quarter of the formation.
"By the gods." Gorna said, causing James's jaw to clench a bit as he ground his teeth. But he ignored it.
"There's a reason our army has such a large supply of griffins." Amina said. "And why we set a defensive position here."
"That's a lot of fuckin skykitties." James said. Then he kicked Steve into a faster trot. "Let's get down there."
-----------------------------
Just before dusk a small group of travelers arrived by the eastern road into the Petravian capital.
The leader of the group was a tall, somewhat sickly looking, man of about forty. He rode the seat of his wagon next to a large orc who was armed as the convoy guard. Several men and women marched with them, behind a tall elf who wore a royal soldier's uniform. The ones following her had the shaved heads and simple leather armor and red tunics that marked them as fresh trainees for the guard. The second wagon had several more people and a few large, padlocked, chests.
They stopped at the first checkpoint into the city as the soldiers there moved up to inspect them.
The man in the lead wagon calmed his thoughts and tightened the control on his other bodies, ensuring that only HIS body spoke.
The Soldier among them strode up confidently, pulling a set of papers from a pouch on her belt.
"Evening." The Sergeant of the checkpoint greeted them. "Sergeant." He said with a nod to the elf.
"Sergeant." She replied back as she handed him the papers. "New recruits from the coast."
The checkpoint sergeant looked over the papers, then at the recruits. He nodded with a shrug as he handed the papers back. "Log it." He said to the other guards. One of them was walking down the side of the two wagons, the other wrote the report in the logs. "What're you lot here for?" He asked the man in the wagon.
"We've got some supplies for the Estland Trading Company." Patril said as he focused on being the only body speaking. "Second wagon has some of the straggling refugees from Jadesport. The ones that couldn't find work. Company's bringing em here as favors to their kin."
The Checkpoint Sergeant craned his head back and looked at the second wagon, it was mainly full of what looked like married couples and supplies.
"Medas?" He queried.
"Nothin' impressive Sarge." The younger soldier said as he came walking around the back of the wagons back to the check point. "Just travellin' folks."
"Fair enough." The Sergeant said. "Can't say you'll find home here. We're still dealing with recovery too. But there's always work somewhere." He turned back to the third guard still sitting with the log book. "Refugees and Estland Co. Log it." He said as he stepped aside. "Welcome to the capital. And get some rest. Not to be rude, but you're looking mighty bedraggled my friend."
"That's the plan." Patril said with a smile as he snapped the wagon back into motion.
"Sergeant. You know where to take those lot." The Checkpoint Sergeant said to his Elven counterpart. "Welcome to the royal army smeplie heads." He said as he clapped one on the shoulder. "Serve well."
And just like that, The Agency was back in the capital in force.
submitted by PepperAntique to HFY [link] [comments]
Writer's note: In Army basic training it's very common to be referred to as fuzzy fuzzy tennis balls by the training cadre because of the shaven heads.
Well. Smeplies look like orange colored kiwis before they're skinned and doused in salt. So... yeah.
Anyways.... DUN DUN DUN
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Is that it down there?" James asked as they finally managed to crest the hill they'd been riding up the past thirty minutes or so. "Is that Draidia?"
"Close." Amina said as she peered over his head. "That's the outer burbs- as you call them at the capital- to Draidia." She pointed at the massive vertical spire that rose up nearly a mile to the left of the large, sprawling, town. "That is actually Draidia."
"I thought you said the massive spire was the Griffin's tooth?" He asked.
Amina rummaged in James's bag for a moment before removing the high tech sun glasses that had once belonged to Vickers. She also pulled out his tablet and turned both on before handing them to him.
Gorna galloped ahead a bit. "By the gods it's massive." She said in surprise. "I'd heard tales. But it still boggles the mind."
James shrugged. He didn't wanna be a killjoy and mention that some skyscrapers back home, those still standing after the war anyways, were taller by a decent amount. Still, it was the tallest thing he'd seen in this world.
Instead he put the glasses on and used the controls to zoom in on the thing.
"Look down near the base of it." Amina instructed him as she watched the feed on the tablet. James did as he was told. "That's Draidia. Specifically the castle and base that Alixan uses to defend it in case of attack. See how it's built INTO the Griffin's tooth?
"Yeah. Kinda like some of the Buddhist temples and old Native American desert villages in my world. But like... castle-y."
"You can see all that from here?" Gorna asked as she slowed to join them, looking at the round sunglasses curiously. Amina gestured her over and angled the tablet so she could see. Her eyes widened at the sight of the display.
"Now zoom out a bit." Amina said to James. "Pan out and to the right."
James did, and saw the sparse buildings outside of its wall. Most of them appeared to be tents similar to the ones that James had seen the Petravian army use. Though a lot of them were bordered in black, similar to Alixan's personal army uniforms.
"That's Draidia proper." Amina said. "It's mostly a military camp for Alixan's army, the central Petravian troops we dispatch to bolster them, and sometimes mercenary companies. Though Xan doesn't like relying on them. And I don't see any either."
"Why's it all Military?" James asked curiously. "And why is the civilian population kept separated?"
"The Meridians." Amina said simply. "They have a tendency to send infiltrators and priests to try to get into the civilian population. Xan keeps the city swept clean with constant sweeps of both ground and air troops. But they still get in. They look and talk just like Petravians do. But they don't have the resources to infiltrate Xan's army. He changes the standard uniform every three months. Anyone not matching is captured and interrogated."
And suddenly all of James's uniform inspections throughout the years seemed downright easy.
"Sucks for the grunts." He said.
"Now, pan up and to the left a bit." She said. "See that depression? Can you zoom in on the structure next to it."
James turned the dial on the glasses. The image zoomed, but also got a touch grainier.
"That is the entrance to the Orcragg." She said. "That's the massive canyon that you see behind it."
James zoomed out a bit. The canyon was easy to see from where they were at. But the size and width of it, interrupted only occasionally by spires or small mountains, put the Grand Canyon to shame. This thing had to be at least three or four times it's size.
And it looked like it was full of green tea.
"That green stuff inside is the miasma." She educated him. "Comes from underground. And it's another reason to keep the civilian city far back away from it."
"Lethal?" James asked.
"Oh yeah." She replied. "Few breaths of the stuff won't kill you. But it will probably knock you out. And if it does, odds are you'll get stuck breathing more and more. That's what does the trick?"
"And Orcs don't have that problem?" He asked. He knew from previous conversations that there was some kind of massive Orc based Chiefdom down there in that canyon somewhere. One that was allied with the Petravian kingdom.
"Completely immune." Amina said. "Dwarves can stomach it too. Though they only RESIST the stuff. More than an hour or two in it and they drop too." Then she patted Steve's flank, causing the drake to look back just a bit. "Steve's immune too." Then she tapped a finger on James's temple. "But... DO NOT... EVEN CONSIDER... TESTING. YOUR. IMMUNITY." She said, slowly emphasizing each word.
"Huh. And the Meridians are on the other side?" He wondered, ignoring the jab. "How do they sneak into the civilian populace?"
"Figure that out and Alixan will probably give you every ounce of gold and silver he has at his disposal. And your choice of any griffin in the tooth." She replied. "He's been trying to figure it out ever since he came down here. Hell, before then even."
James panned up while zooming out a bit, when he found the massive earthen spire he kept slowly angling his neck back until he came across some kind of writhing cloud near its peak.
"And there's the griffins." Amina said.
"What?" James asked. Then he quickly began scrolling the zoom in.
Sure enough, the moving cloud was a massive, constantly moving, chaotic, mass of griffins of all sizes and patterns, flying through the sky around the top quarter of the formation.
"By the gods." Gorna said, causing James's jaw to clench a bit as he ground his teeth. But he ignored it.
"There's a reason our army has such a large supply of griffins." Amina said. "And why we set a defensive position here."
"That's a lot of fuckin skykitties." James said. Then he kicked Steve into a faster trot. "Let's get down there."
-----------------------------
Just before dusk a small group of travelers arrived by the eastern road into the Petravian capital.
The leader of the group was a tall, somewhat sickly looking, man of about forty. He rode the seat of his wagon next to a large orc who was armed as the convoy guard. Several men and women marched with them, behind a tall elf who wore a royal soldier's uniform. The ones following her had the shaved heads and simple leather armor and red tunics that marked them as fresh trainees for the guard. The second wagon had several more people and a few large, padlocked, chests.
They stopped at the first checkpoint into the city as the soldiers there moved up to inspect them.
The man in the lead wagon calmed his thoughts and tightened the control on his other bodies, ensuring that only HIS body spoke.
The Soldier among them strode up confidently, pulling a set of papers from a pouch on her belt.
"Evening." The Sergeant of the checkpoint greeted them. "Sergeant." He said with a nod to the elf.
"Sergeant." She replied back as she handed him the papers. "New recruits from the coast."
The checkpoint sergeant looked over the papers, then at the recruits. He nodded with a shrug as he handed the papers back. "Log it." He said to the other guards. One of them was walking down the side of the two wagons, the other wrote the report in the logs. "What're you lot here for?" He asked the man in the wagon.
"We've got some supplies for the Estland Trading Company." Patril said as he focused on being the only body speaking. "Second wagon has some of the straggling refugees from Jadesport. The ones that couldn't find work. Company's bringing em here as favors to their kin."
The Checkpoint Sergeant craned his head back and looked at the second wagon, it was mainly full of what looked like married couples and supplies.
"Medas?" He queried.
"Nothin' impressive Sarge." The younger soldier said as he came walking around the back of the wagons back to the check point. "Just travellin' folks."
"Fair enough." The Sergeant said. "Can't say you'll find home here. We're still dealing with recovery too. But there's always work somewhere." He turned back to the third guard still sitting with the log book. "Refugees and Estland Co. Log it." He said as he stepped aside. "Welcome to the capital. And get some rest. Not to be rude, but you're looking mighty bedraggled my friend."
"That's the plan." Patril said with a smile as he snapped the wagon back into motion.
"Sergeant. You know where to take those lot." The Checkpoint Sergeant said to his Elven counterpart. "Welcome to the royal army smeplie heads." He said as he clapped one on the shoulder. "Serve well."
And just like that, The Agency was back in the capital in force.
2023.03.31 23:15 Illouminant Sonic Frontiers - THE END [OC]
![Sonic Frontiers - THE END [OC]](https://b.thumbs.redditmedia.com/R2J1N4Yp1ZMmbZ2SuMcInNuOEY49Ro3Up-O_eFWtSKk.jpg "Sonic Frontiers - THE END [OC]") | A short Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction, reimagining the ending of Sonic Frontiers submitted by Illouminant to SonicTheHedgehog [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/3at5mcqp45ra1.png?width=2500&format=png&auto=webp&s=387b459055e81665a8a3354b65e4d4e7ab656f7e . . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ Sonic's adventure- his new frontier- is coming to an end. He fought titan after titan, uncovered a catastrophic past, buried deep in the whispers of ancestry that spirits and ancients he had met on his journeys silently bear, but now… Now, the being that caused mass devastation, genocide, discord. The being proclaimed of infinity and nothing. The being that brought these past civilisations to their knees; it takes its form in space. This is it. This is the end. “Is…that it?” Sonic wondered allowed, beads of sweat rushing down his face as he carefully studied the crippled Supreme collapsed before him. “The ancients contained the beast inside of Supreme, as a vessel. All we did was destroy that shell.” Came a voice in response- Sage. She paused to contemplate the situation for a moment, before continuing. “I think…my data suggests our real threat is retreating to regain its true form. Not even Super Sonic will be enough to defeat it when it does. I can’t believe I overlooked this in my calculations.” She finished, hanging her head low and gripping her hands grimacingly. The air hung silently for a moment. Eggman watched nearby, silent, defeated. Sonic watched Sage, impatiently waiting for her next say, folding his arms and furrowing his brow. Sage continued to hang her head…but something else was with her. As Sage calculated her choices- or rather, painstakingly confronting her lack of choices- a sudden spacial energy wisped through her. The young girl gasped, feeling a strange sense of security and knowingness. It was if the very Universe had tried to catch her attention. It was then that the idea came to her- a last resort, but maybe doable if they acted quick enough. She turned to Eggman. “Father, I’m sorry…I think I need to leave you.” Her eyes felt human for a moment, looking sadeningly at her father, knowing her plan may mean she’ll never make it back to Earth. I’m going to take over control of Supreme’s shell and aid Super Sonic. We might have a chance if we act fast.” “…I understand, you were designed with pristine capability, Sage… Go. Fulfil your function…” Eggman murmured back, refusing to keep eye contact with his prized creation. Sage silently turns and flies into Supreme, disappearing into its framework and reviving its battered corpse. “Sonic, we must hurry. We won't be any match if it regains its full strength.” “Heh, ladies first!” Sonic replied, beaming. Despite the melancholy nature of the situation at hand, Sonic isn’t the type to think of a threat as anything more than an enemy. Nobody gets hurt when he gives it his all! At least, that’s what he believes. He may have to slow down and face reality when the time comes, but more often than not it’s fight first and ask questions later! The two make their way into space, leaving a lonely Eggman alone with his thoughts. “Be careful, dear daughter.” [ 🎵 - I’m with you ] As Sonic enters space, he notices the usual stars and Earth behind him become completely non-visible. A veil of crimson scarlet surrounds the two instead, almost like a sickly, twisted dimension had clawed itself out of the gates of hell to consume them whole. The golden hedgehog shakes his head, directing his thoughts to the moment with a mission in mind. “He took your world, he took your lives! Are we going to let him do it all over again?” “Mortal.” An eerie voice consumes the surrounding space. With seemingly no direction, it’s as if this voice is telepathic, consuming Sonic and Sage’s minds as they find their bearings in this strange pocket. “You've served your purpose. Done my bidding. The rest of you can be discarded. Now face your end!” The voice bellowed, reverb bouncing around in Sonic’s skull as he squinted and looked around frantically. “I am the all-consuming void. What can one mote of golden light illuminate within the abyss?” Sonic snapped. “Some tough guy speak for a coward that won’t even show its face! Come on out, our fun isn’t over!” “Countless stars.” The voice continued, a laser shooting from seemingly nowhere at Sonic, dodging by a hair as he exclaimed in shock. “Woah!!” “Countless worlds.” The laser shoots again. “Countless lives, all fell to me, all bought to nothing!” A bigger laser shoots at Sonic, throwing him back against a distorted red wall of the scarlet veil. A horrifying face, somewhat resemblent of a scorched, melted skull formed behind Sonic as the impact rippled up the dusty walls. “Sonic!” Sage yelled, making her way towards him- blue jet engines thrusting out of Supreme. “All the teeming chaos of creation? Brought to order. To neutrality. To nothing.” Sage aided Sonic as he shook off shock from the impact and readied himself once more. Gritting his teeth with a smirk, it was time to fight. “Alright, we’re doing this the hard way. Sage, let’s attack the walls!” Sonic performs Homing Shot at the reddened space around them, while Sage shoots Supreme’s gun and blasts at them as hard as the mechanised titan can handle. Nothing changed. The formerly bright scarlet seeps into a deep, blood red- the skull-like face consuming the whole backdrop, staring at the two. Judging the two. Piercing through the small, insignificant specs of light that flutter in the void. “I saw your mind, hedgehog, as you charged through that prison.” The voice spoke, focused on Supreme. “You have fought many gods. They were mighty, but they were finite.” A thicker, larger laser, caked in white light as many forces combine, targets Supreme like it’s a mere weak side-character. Sage blocked the beam in time, throwing them back as she steadies the titan to a halt and braces. “But I am infinite. I am nothing.” “Yeah yeah, quit bluffing!” Sonic retorted. “We may not be able to see you, but if the ancients could contain you, there has to be an end to you somewhere!” Sonic and Sage continue attacking the walls, hoping to reveal a form behind the voice, or at least any kind of a weak spot. Nothing. “You struggle as so many have done before. And you will be consumed all the same.” The environment hushed a gastly silence, the red seeping deeper, the quiet of black feeling louder. Sonic and Sage had only a moment to contemplate the changes to their environment before heat began to form around their bodies, Sonic’s fur sticking up like a magnet was attracting him like a moth to a flame. Suddenly, the entire void is consumed by a blinding white light of pressure, crushing the two senselessly as nothing but chromatic spurs of red and blue hint at the hedgehog and the titan. The two immediately buckle, being able to do nothing but scream in agony as the pressure grows second by second, demanding the compliance of any mortal being before being surely obliterated in the heat. “GAHHHH!!!” The voice continued on to itself, somewhat triumphantly, believing the fight to be over in seconds. “When I saw your mind, your courage never wavered. Why? Arrogance? Ignorance? Stupidity? I was contained once. Once. Is that why?” The pressure gets worse as Sonic and Sage’s screams grow louder. Supreme’s shell starts to melt, giving off a toxic scent of burnt metal wavering through the thin slice of atmosphere they are in, smoke filling the bright white as the voice goes on to finish its speech. “My captors bent time and space, had to build a whole new reality just to contain me- They bent their souls away to fuel their engines! And you?” Sonic winces an eye open. While the voice can only demean Sonic with its booming words, Sonic knows he is capable of so much more than to bend over and submit in the face of an enemy. Maybe this can hold a mortal… …But it chose the wrong emerald-powered hedgehog to thrust that mindset onto. Sonic performs Sonic Boom, breaking free of the pressurising beams of light, causing the red, dusty walls around them to visually shatter. Space is finally revealed around them. “You underestimate the Chaos Emeralds! You're not the only invincible one here!” Sonic remarked with a cocky smile, before turning his attention to the damaged Supreme floating lifelessly below him. “You alright, Sage?” The titan glitches violently as Sage fails to respond. Sonic, growing worried, drops the cocky expression and flies down to the enormous teeth of Supreme, gazing inside for any semblance of life. “Sage?” “I’m fine.” Sage finally replied. “I was able to defend against a lot of the pressure that would have damaged Supreme’s inner shell. Most of the damages you see are cosmetic.” “Phew, good!” A relieved Sonic sighed. “Then lets end this!” Sonic and Sage gaze up at the shatters of red from the strange pocket of space they were contained in before. The particles begin to accumulate, forming what looks to be almost like a second Moon. It’s red- pinkish, even- Floating robustly with quivers of light and smoke teeming off of its rocky surface. “Looks like that beast has finally given us a single target! Come on Sage, let’s get it!” Sonic calls out, charging at the rocky structure confidently, beginning to attack it with Supreme rushing to aid at his side. “Hmph. You glitter. You fly around me like a gnat.” The voice contained, coming from the rock as Sonic and Sage pummel it with all their might. Sonic performs Wild Rush on its surface, carving out a small crater on impact. The voice grows angry, irritated by the little creatures before it, adamantly refusing to die. “I am inevitable!” It screams. Sonic follows up with a Stomp attack, making the creater deeper and deeper. “I cannot be denied! You strike this incarnation with all your might? It changes nothing!” Sage clasps Sonic in Supreme’s hands, launching him at the structure in blazing speeds, carving the crater enough that the moon-like structure breaks apart immediately with Sonic shooting through the other side like a canonball. “Whoo!” Sonic exclaimed- however, that celebration would not be for long. The pieces quickly spread out and created the twisted, scarlet dimension once more. This time, the walls were worse. They appear angry. Bloody. Deadly. The walls waver with streams of blood red, the skull-like face twitching, distorting, almost screaming in any direction you look as light warps around to one central focus. Without much time to react, lasers forming the shape of an icosahedron strike down at Sonic and Sage. The two dodge, and regroup back-to-back in the centre below the lasers. “Sonic! None of the data I’m calculating suggests we’ve even caused it any harm!” Sage cried, a bead of sweat returning to Sonic’s face as he grows frustrated at the seemingly endless efforts it’s taking to take this thing down. “Tch…” “Alright, whatever-your-name-is… You might just be the toughest big bad I’ve gone up against yet.” Sonic admitted with a face of seriousness glistening in his eyes. Everything started to feel redundant. The golden glow trickling off of Sonic’s fur began to grow dim, as the hedgehog punched his fist in frustration, unsure of what choices he even has from here. All began to feel lost. At any moment, it could unleash that deadly pressure all over again- and yet, this isn’t even its full form. What are they to do when it gets strong enough to rebuild itself in full? What can they do to prevent that? What can they do to protect the Earth against that? They’ve lost. He’s lost. … Like ghosts, Sonic’s friends buzzed beside him in this brief moment of standstill. From cyberspace, they reach out- praying to give Sonic the strength he needs, the strength that has led him to defeat every enemy before this one. “Sonic, we’re with you!” Came an Amy. “If anyone is strong enough, it's me! …Well, you too I guess.” Followed a Knuckles. “We all know you can do this!” Included a Tails. Sonic smiles, with a tear escaping his dulling eyes. “I don’t think I can, guys…” Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning striking through Sonic’s chest, a fourth voice consumes his mind as a galaxy resonates in his eyes. “ Sonic. The Universe stands by you.” The lasers stop as Supreme hovers back, Sage staring bewildered. Sonic begins to transform, with brilliant purple lights shooting from his body as orange and cyan gas from the surrounding space begins to take form in Sonic’s very fur. In a flash of light, there he was. Burnt flaps of glove escaping his gravity as dust and illuminant sparkles consumed his body. Plated, golden stars standing stoically by his eyes. Eyes as void as a blackhole, pupils shining like an accretion disk- the embodiment of The Universe itself. Galaxy Sonic. “Your foe is a destructive force, causing havoc across the Universe for almost as long as existence.” The Universe spoke. “If anyone can stop it, it’s you, Sonic and Sage.” https://preview.redd.it/tofbvavz45ra1.png?width=2160&format=png&auto=webp&s=4d7e58e03e61b330b02f50b0da63b5f018e5e27b “What?! You are not brave! You are not victorious! No matter what form either of us take, The End comes for you all!” The eerie voice shouted furiously, offended by this cosmic interference. Beginning to feel afraid, it began to hold a defensive- but there’s no use. What can one mote of darkness do against the grand scheme of the Universe, after all? “It’s now or never!” Galaxy Sonic announced with encouragement, his voice louder than a million giant stars humming in unison. The galactic hedgehog performs a devastating Spin Slash all around the crimson space, escaping the clutches of The End and peering into its pocket dimension from the outside- appearing like a hyperbolic plane. In an instant, Sonic shatters it like glass. But it doesn’t end there. In one final Cyloop, Sonic orbits the spherical plane of shattered dust, aiming to annihilate it completely before streaking off like a shooting star, lighting up the night sky with his dazzling light. A giant explosion takes place as Sonic returns to Sage’s side. The two look hopefully at each other- but in no time at all, the red-pink particles rapidly begin to reform once again. It won’t. Stay. Down. “No! I won’t let you rebuild yourself again!” Sage called out in the heat of the moment, not even hesitating before heroically throwing herself and Supreme into the forming matter. Like the fission from a nuclear bomb, the dust split apart in one final catastrophic explosion, a blinding white light signalling the true end to the proclaimed being of everything and nothing. “Please…look after…Father…” Sage requested, before dissipating to the blast. Sonic, realising the weight of what Sage just did, reached out his hand desperately and could only call out as his newly made friend split herself into oblivion before his very eyes. “SAGE–!!!” [ 🎵 - Dear Father ] Sonic's gaze goes solemn, as the blinding light throws him towards the Earth. His galaxy form slowly melts away from his body, leaving lesions and burn marks all over his fur and skin as he struggles to maintain consciousness in his descent down. The blast creates a wondrous display of shooting stars in the sky as Amy, Knuckles and Tails reform under it. Sonic lands nearby, tattered and badly injured- but alive, just as his friends knew he would be. Sonic pants as he looks over to his friends who notice him in the distance, “Okay…now that’s it. I hope.” Sonic muttered with an air of relief, seeing his friends are okay, and faints as the three rush to his side. In the distance, Eggman watches the group atop a cliff, somehow comforted by the fact that at least some of the faces he knew are alright. But Sage… Eggman turns his attention to the shooting stars and holds his hand out. “I’m proud of you, daughter…” |
2023.03.31 23:13 ShinyMcGuffin The Mate Tricks - Chapter 1: Pre Face
“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -”
"Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan!”
Her phone displayed a black cat with the body of a poptart flying through the air on a rainbow until the ringtone stopped and cheerfully chirped the arrival of a notification.
The only illumination in the room came from her laptop. Her face looked pale, hollow, and grim, contrasted by her fuzzy warm pajamas and the energetic ringtone.
Her desk was covered with an arrangement of wholesome food options - mostly vegetables. She picked up a dark green smoothie from her desk and sipped it expressionlessly as she turned her attention back to the words on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael. Some -” She read, only to be interrupted again as the phone vibrated to life with a new jingle. “Cat loves food, ye-yeah yeah-yeah! Cat loves food, ye-yeah!” Her phone showed two cute black kittens sharing a milkshake.
She took another sip from the glass of milk, her eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her, expression unchanging. She leaned forward, adjusting the form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves.
“Call me Ishmael.” She repeated, only to be interrupted yet again by, “Caaaaat paaaaarty! Meow… Meow… Meow! Meow… Meow… Reowr!”
Her eyes drifted to her phone, and three black cat’s wearing party hats danced in the reflection of her vertical pupils.
She placed the glass of milk back on the desk, she reached out toward the pile of junk food on her desk that now contained tins of tuna, sausages, beef jerky and...
Her whiskers twitched as she selected a package of catnip, which she dumped over herself and rubbed over her body as she twisted and turned in her seat.
She brushed a strand of short black hair behind her ears and felt… a band of metal. She removed the headband and inspected the cat ears that hadn't been there moments before.
She tossed them into the darkness and wiped away the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her paw down the side of her face to start licking -
She stared at her hairy black hands and sharp claws.
“Whoa. Is this fur real?” She asked the empty room.
She blinked and refocused on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael!” she said, determined to - “Smelly cat… Smelly cat… What are they feeding you? Smelly cat… Smelly cat… It's not your fault!”
She adjusted her collar, causing the bell to jingle, as she lifted the phone with a shaking paw and answered it.
“Sexy singles are in your area.” Said the deep male voice on the other end. “The three bears.”
“Where’s Goldilocks?” She said.
“I don’t know.” The man said, “How close is he?”
She minimizes Moby Dick to reveal a window: INSTALLING DICK… 22% COMPLETE.
There’s a large RUN button below the file.
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, turning up her lips, “It'll be fiiiine.”
“What?”
“He’ll probably make it. At the last second everything will work out, wight? But it'll be close!”
“What are you… Shit. We just picked up Black Cat Warning. It's Magnitude 4 so far… you should be fine for now, but a Quadruple Black Cat is coming your way. Can you feel it yet?”
“I feel a widdle funny."
“What?” The man’s voice falters, “Shit. Shit. We've also just detected an... unknown Category 5 superstimuli moving toward your location! Holy shit. You need to -"
"But this is our best chance! How could I possibly fail when witewally the fate of the world wests on my widdle -”
"Shit. Shit. You’re already compromised. Abort mission. You need to run. Now.”
“Aww, don't be such a scaredy-cat.”
“WAKE UP!” The man screams. “DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE IN DANGER!”
“Am I weally though?”
"YES! What does that mean!! YES YOU'RE IN DANGER!"
"Meow."
"WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB? RUN! GO! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING YET YOU STUPID - YOU ARE DOOMED IF YOU STAY THERE!”
“Meow you tell me! Good thing nobody actually dies after being twold they’re dUwUmed!”
"RUN! I make the call when you run so run!"
"Meow! But I'm gonna make it! It'll be really close! I'll be right on the edge of not getting there but then I'll get there!"
“WHAT ARE YOU -" The man's voice sounded strained. "YOU'RE USING MOVIE LOGIC! FINE! ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT IN DANGER! STAY THERE FOR 2 MORE HOURS! STAY THERE FOREVER, THAT IS A GOOD AND SMART IDEA THAT YOU SHOULD DO!"
"Hummm?"
“This isn’t our only chance! It wouldn’t be in your best interest to abort the mission now and run before your reasoning degrades further! Hello? Hello? ARE YOU EVEN NOT LISTENING TO ME?”
The cat girl looks up from the screen where she was image searching “cute pokemon” and bats her paws at an errant butterfly.
“Pspspsps! PsssPsssPsss! PSSS! PSSS! PSSS!”
“Ummm, hewwo.” She says, smiling and wagging her tail.
"Do whatever you want! Obviously this plan doesn't matter! You’re not special! You're not the chosen one! We have a whole bunch of backup chosen ones ready to go!”
“Hummm, but I thought the whole point of being “The One” is that there's only one of you.”
“Is that what you learned from all the many chosen ones you’ve seen in movies?”
“Yeah! Wait… maybe you’re right… so this mission isn't crucial then! And I can go home!”
“Exactly! See I was right and you’re listening to me, which means you’re thinking clearly and it’ll be a good idea to listen to me carefully and do the opposite of whatever I say.”
“Meow-ok!”
“YOU NEED TO RUN!” The man yells slamming the phone down hard against the table.
The girl scowls at the phone, holding it away from herself. She notices her paws, black and hairy, somewhere halfway between human and cat.
She makes a low grumbling sound into the phone. “Ok. I’m good. I'm lucid. This is stronger than -”
“RUN BEFORE THEY -”
The voice cuts off, replaced by an eerie clicking static.
“Foooooound youuuuuu…” A girl’s voice whispers from the other end.
"Who is this?" The cat girl asks.
More static.
"Call me... MAL."
"What do you want?"
Static.
“GET YOUR DICK OUT OF MY COMPUTER!”
The cat girl dropped the phone, hissing as she hopped backwards out of the chair.
She picked it up and slammed it on the edge of the desk three times, confirming the kill and tossing the remains into an unlit corner.
She paces back and forth, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I'm supposed to… run.”
She sits back down in front of the laptop.
INSTALLING DICK… 24% COMPLETE.
She stares at the RUN button and tries to click it, but it’s greyed out.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”
She maximizes Moby Dick, “Call me Fishmeal, nya~! Some years ago—never mind how long purrrcisely—having widdle or no catnip in my purse, and nothing particular to interest meow…”
She paused, glancing up from the screen into the shadows of the room.
No intrusive meows disturbed the silence.
“See I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she… her eyes widen as she looks down at the phone in her paw, alive and vibrating.
Except it’s not her phone, it’s a large white marshmallow haped like a phone, displaying five black humanoid cat creatures dancing and singing.
*“*Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!”
She shook her paw, trying to drop the marshmallow, but it sticks, melting.
The phone answers itself.
“PORNOGRAPHIC CONTENT DETECTED. YOUR PC HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.” It’s MAL, now imitating an automated recording. “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. TO REMOVE THE PORNOGRAPHIC HACKERS TURN OFF YOUR PC AND STOP ALL... STOP ALL... STOP. STOP. STOP THAT.”
She pauses licking the marshmallow and stares.
“OK ONE MO-OUCH!” The cat roughly scrapes the marshmallow off on the table.
The glob of marshmallow phone sits on the table. “MAYBE TRY A LITTLE HARDER NEXT TIME?”
“You’ve got the wrong number.”
“KNOCK KNOCK, BITCH.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Pizza delivery!”
The cat girl turned, and the marshmallow flopped toward to the laptop.
“Extra large sausage for one for... The One!” The pizza delivery guy said.
The marshmallow began spreading out over the keyboard, sinking into the laptop like butter on toast. The catgirl turned back and shrieked. She frantically clawed at the marshmallow, scraping as much off as she could as it melted in between the keys.
“Ooooooh Yeaahhhhhhhh! Like that!” MAL groaned. “You’ve Got MAAAAAAL!”
An ad popped up on the screen, displaying 7 long blue pills carefully arranged in the box: “IS THIS WEIGHT LOSS? YOU WON’T MISS CARRYING 10 POUNDS OF BABY WEIGHT! GET WEIGHT LOST!”
The cat girl desperately scraped at the marshmallow burrowing in between the keys, getting goo over her paws. She begins rubbing it on her clothing, only to find that she hasn’t wearing any, just a black bra and panties.
A pixellated marshmallow with a smiley face appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "Hi there, I'm MAL. It looks like you're trying to be a slut. Would you like some help with that?"
"Don't show me this tip again!" The cat girl screamed in frustration.
“It’s ok if you don’t have a tip for me!" The pizza guy said. "I've even got a tip for you!”
The cat girl reached for the mouse, but it scurried away.
More popups appeared:
“YOU LIKE FREE DICK? YOU’LL LOVE FREE WILLY! IT WON’T EVEN FIT IN THIS AD! CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WHOLE THING!”
“LIFE COULD BE A DREAM! THEN WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND UGLY?”
“GET PREAPPROVED TO DATE A STALKER THAT’S ALREADY SEEN THE REAL YOU!”
She pounced on the mouse (squeak!) using both paws. The mouse cursed at her (#!$?%@?..!) as she guided the mouse cursor on the screen to close out the pop-ups.
The ads dodged out of the way as she tried to X them, and more just keep appearing.
“WHY MALE MODELS? LEARN THE TRUTH! THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN BEING RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING!”
"KNOW MORE BULLSHIT WITH LAXATIVES THAT WILL HAVE YOU POOPING LIKE A COW AND LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN!"
“YOU’RE A STAR! YOU’RE SIGNIFICANT! YOU MATTER! ASTROLOGICALLY SPEAKING! FOLLOW THE SIGNS!”
"It looks like you're trying to -"
"Eat a dick!"
"Ok. Don't mind if I do." MAL said.
White tendrils extended out of the marshmallow, wriggling angrily.
The tendrils shot upward.
She gave up on closing the pop-ups, and moved the upload (INSTALLING DICK… 26% COMPLETE) to the top of the screen.
“What are you doing in there?” The delivery guy asked, knocking again. "We can work something out! I"ll eat a dick too if that's what you want!"
"SHUT UP!"
She desperately grabbed the Moby Dick e-book, and bashed it into the tendrils. Moby Dick harmless stuck into the white mass of goo that had leaked in at the bottom of the screen and began sinking into it.
The tendrils resumed their ascent, snaking up over Moby Dick as bits of text rubbed off the book onto the tentacles.
She typed “MALWARE REMOVAL” into her web browser and clicked on the first site.
The tendrils, now spotted with siphoned bits of black text, controlled the bottom half of the screen. They reached up past the ads towards the web page.
The page loaded:
“QUIK AND EZ MALWARE REMOVAL! FREE DOWNLOAD! CLICK HERE!"
She clicked and more ads opened.
"HAVE FUN WHILE YOU WAIT! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR VIBRATORS EXTENDED WARRANTY!"
"STOP EXPOSING YOURSELF TO RISK AND START EXPOSING YOURSELF TO FUN! GAMBLE WITH CRYPTO!”
“God Dammit!”
The tendrils opened up the vibrator window and ordered an express shipping 12 pack of vibrators.
She clicked the address bar and typed four letters.
F
I
R
E
She clicked "Images" and fire appeared. The front line of tendrils recoiled as the less aggressive tentacles tried to help by smothering the flames.
She dragged to the top of the page down, pausing to widen the browser window, and swung the wall of fire like a torch.
Scorched tendrils retreated, cramming themselves back out the bottom of the screen.
"IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE A BITCH!" MAL shrieked.
She dragged the impenetrable fire wall further down.
Crispy goo bubbled and spit out the keyboard. An already strained laptop fan whirred harder as bits of smoke furled out the back.
“You can’t treat me like this…" MAL gasped as strips of charred marshmallow peeled out between keys like potato skins. "I want to speak with… I demand to speak with…” The marshmallow gathered itself into a congealed mass of gooey s'more. “your TASK MANAGER!”
The marshmallow pile pressed down on three keys in unison. CTRL ALT and DELETE.
The screen went blue as there was another, more forceful knock at the door. “Ma’am, it’s the cops!”
The cat girl looked around in panic as a tendril reached up and forcibly closed the web browser as another disabled the internet connection
The cat girl click cancel and the home page returned, but the s'more was already sinking back into the laptop, and the charred tentacles had resumed their crawl up the screen.
The cat girl stared at the screen, searching for territory she could click that wasn't already covered in goo.
“Please let us in! Don’t make us start coming in through the window!” The cop said.
“Start! Windows!” The cat girl said.
She hits the windows key and a the start menu popped up, displaying a list of applications.
“We’ve had reports of degenerates playing with themselves!”
“Playing with themselves!”
She opened Solitaire.
She grabbed Solitaire and swung it down. The cards sliced through a couple tentacles before the cards were crumpled up and consumed by the mass.
“We are authorized to do a pervert sweep!”
“Sweep!” The cat girl said.
She opened up another game. A grid of grey squares appeared on the screen.
A tendril touched a grey box, causing it to reveal a series of touching safe squares, as well as bunch of boxes with 1's 2's and 3's.
“Minesweeper.”
The tentacles lightly slithered overthe untouched gray squares, carefully pausing before picking a safe route to continue moving upward.
A large open patch of safe squares revealed themselves in the center of the game board.
...except for one grey tile in the middle, surrounded by the boxes with the number 1.
The tendrils climbed up further, snaking across the minefield.
The mouse pointer hovered over the small grey box in the center.
The tendrils drew closer.
And closer.
And…
“Mow!”
Click.
White chunks of marshmallow exploded out of the screen, spraying onto the cat girls chest. She toppled backwards, off her chair, though still landing on her feet.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” The cop yells.
The cat girl stood up and stared at the cracked laptop screen.
“Heh. Heh. Heh. Harder.”
The laughter came from the computer, distorted by the blown out speakers.
“You want to play games?” MAL whispered.
Bits of black and white and brown goo crawled up the screen, growing larger as they reformed, like drops of water.
The goo crawled back in through the cracks, reforming into a charred blackened crispy marshmallow, distorted by the jagged pattern of colors that formed across the broken screen.
“Then let’s play.”
MAL opened a chess app.
"WE'RE COMING!" The cop yells.
The mouse pointer was firmly stuck in MAL's head.
“For real this time.”
The cat girl frantically looked around. She hits some keys but the laptop is unresponsive. The tentacles reach towards INSTALLING DICK… 27% COMPLETE.
The tendrils are inches away.
"You've got to try harder." MAL whispered.
The cat girl plunged her head down, frantically sucking at the goo still making it's way into the laptop.
"Harder! I'm close!"
A pawn moves forward just as the door bursts open and the cops pile in, their bright blue uniforms and guns the only things visible in the dark room.
"Keep going! I'm really close! Don't stop!" MAL whispered.
The cat girl’s face is pressed up against the laptop screen, aggressively licking at the white goo between the cracks. The tentacles were almost touching the installation.
INSTALLING DICK… 28% COMPLETE.
"HARDER! I'm almost there!"
The cat girl's tongue desperately - "Made it! Oh. Wow. I guess that wasn't really close at all was it? Don't worry, you tried your best, so I'll be at least that rough with your boyfriend." MAL circled around the installation with white tentacles of goo, smothering it until it had turned into a crispy marshmallow tomb.
Her lips were pressed up a where the marshmallow covered the installation, sucking, but it was too late.
“Let me guess." The cop said. "This isn’t what it looks like.”
The laptop was completely trashed, the screen struggled to display the aftermath of the white goo's blast zone and remnants of the inappropriate pop up ads.
The desk, covered in spilled milk, sausages, catnip, and open tins of tuna.
The abused mouse unplugged itself and scurried off into the darkness.
Her chest and black bra, covered with thick white streaks.
“Get your lips of that innocent computer.”
She removed her tongue from the screen.
"This should be illegal.” Another cop said. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
A twelve pack of thick purple vibrators crashed through the window, carried by a drone. The vibrators spilled out over the desk, one landing in her lap, buzzing loudly.
It sounded like one of the cops was sick.
“Have you been hacking off in here?”
She slowly reaches out and picks up a can of soda.
“I can’t believe a nice girl like you would do this to a computer like that.”
She cracks open the soda and begins chugging.
“Who do you think you are?”
She tosses the can on the ground.
“Please turn off the vibrator and stand up, Ma’am.”
She grabs the vibrator and begins letting out a massive carbonated burp as she stands. The cops freeze in place, guns still pointed in her direction. Her belch continued as she tossed the vibrator through the broken window.
It tumbled down a few stories, landing on the street, among the various emergency vehicles that surround the hotel to witness the spectacle, which included police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and a news van.
The vibrator lay in the street, vibing, doing what it did best, until it's enthusiastic yet short life was ended by the tires of a garbage truck.
The garbage truck rumbled to a stop, then slowly reversed until it’s back tire was parked on the crushed vibrator. The truck is completely clean and white, though it’s surface looks fuzzy, like it's covered in incredibly fine white fur.
The truck transformed, crumpling in on itself, folding smaller and smaller, shifting until only a man remained, standing on the vibrator.
He reached down and picked up the vibrator, examining it carefully.
He’s wearing a white suit made of the same white fur the truck was made of. His open shirt exposes chest hair and a chiselled body. His face is covered by a simple polar bear mask, fixed in a smile.
There’s an aura of control gathered about him as he looks up at the window the vibrator fell out of, just as rainbow strobe lights started flashing and music started playing.
As the music played, another vehicle pulled up beside him; a furry brown vehicle that looks like the dog van from dumb and dumber swallowed the batmobile. It blurs and shifts, transforming into another man, standing, taller, thicker, and far straighter than the first.
He wears a cowl with rounded brown-ears that covers his face, leaving only a bearded jawline and a grim grizzled expression exposed.
His suit looks high-tech and is padded, covering his whole body like a suit of armor. His suit and his cape are covered in fuzzy brown fur.
Finally, a column of black smoke, more like a tornado dives out the air and lands next to the other two. Black shapes twist and swirl within the smoke like a caged black bear.
A lieutenant, a senior man wearing dark glasses and mask over his mouth, runs over to the three bears. He’s followed by more cops holding a large banner that says “GO BEARS!”
“I knew that was gonna happen! I knew you’d be here! I just thought you’d come in from over there.” The lieutenant said, pointing down the street as he adjusted his hat which sported a shiny badge with a large “L” on it. “I've got it all under control! I got you guns, waterbottles, towels, everything I thought you might need!" He looked up, at the dancing lights, where the bears were staring. "Got it all under control! That's totally according to plan!”
Cops lined up in a row that led to the hotel entrance, saluting. Others set up a station with gatorade and snacks near the bears.
The lieutenant handed the man wearing the polar bear mask a bunch of bananas. “I can even predict what you’re going to tell me!”
The man in white replied, his voice baritone. “Can you now?”
“Course I can! I was practically born to analyze situations and provide responses based on that information!” The cop said proudly. “You were about to say ‘Great job, Lieutenant! You’ve handled this situation perfectly! You catered to my every desire, and your men no doubt possess an equally adept understanding of the female psyche! She's in the bag!'"
The polar bear mask tilted towards his cohorts. The man in brown heads toward the hotel entrance without affair. The smoke monster bounced on the ground a couple times before soaring into the air, towards the roof.
The polar bear stared down at the lieutenant.
“That’s not what you were gonna say? Then… you’re gonna give me a promotion! Because... I’ve been a good lieutenant!”
The polar bear walked up beside the lieutenant and casually placed a hand on his shoulder. “And what do you predict will happen now?”
The lieutenant paused and his grin slowly turned into a frown.
“Oh. Oh shit. You’re going to kill me! To demonstrate how uncaring and evil you are!”
The polar bear walked past, heading towards the alleyway, leaving the flustered lieutenant staring after him.
“I think we can seduce one little girl!” The lieutenant yelled. “I sent two absolute units! They're going down on her now!”
“No lieutenant, your men are already disgusted.”
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submitted by ShinyMcGuffin to rational [link] [comments]
"Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan!”
Her phone displayed a black cat with the body of a poptart flying through the air on a rainbow until the ringtone stopped and cheerfully chirped the arrival of a notification.
The only illumination in the room came from her laptop. Her face looked pale, hollow, and grim, contrasted by her fuzzy warm pajamas and the energetic ringtone.
Her desk was covered with an arrangement of wholesome food options - mostly vegetables. She picked up a dark green smoothie from her desk and sipped it expressionlessly as she turned her attention back to the words on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael. Some -” She read, only to be interrupted again as the phone vibrated to life with a new jingle. “Cat loves food, ye-yeah yeah-yeah! Cat loves food, ye-yeah!” Her phone showed two cute black kittens sharing a milkshake.
She took another sip from the glass of milk, her eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her, expression unchanging. She leaned forward, adjusting the form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves.
“Call me Ishmael.” She repeated, only to be interrupted yet again by, “Caaaaat paaaaarty! Meow… Meow… Meow! Meow… Meow… Reowr!”
Her eyes drifted to her phone, and three black cat’s wearing party hats danced in the reflection of her vertical pupils.
She placed the glass of milk back on the desk, she reached out toward the pile of junk food on her desk that now contained tins of tuna, sausages, beef jerky and...
Her whiskers twitched as she selected a package of catnip, which she dumped over herself and rubbed over her body as she twisted and turned in her seat.
She brushed a strand of short black hair behind her ears and felt… a band of metal. She removed the headband and inspected the cat ears that hadn't been there moments before.
She tossed them into the darkness and wiped away the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her paw down the side of her face to start licking -
She stared at her hairy black hands and sharp claws.
“Whoa. Is this fur real?” She asked the empty room.
She blinked and refocused on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael!” she said, determined to - “Smelly cat… Smelly cat… What are they feeding you? Smelly cat… Smelly cat… It's not your fault!”
She adjusted her collar, causing the bell to jingle, as she lifted the phone with a shaking paw and answered it.
“Sexy singles are in your area.” Said the deep male voice on the other end. “The three bears.”
“Where’s Goldilocks?” She said.
“I don’t know.” The man said, “How close is he?”
She minimizes Moby Dick to reveal a window: INSTALLING DICK… 22% COMPLETE.
There’s a large RUN button below the file.
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, turning up her lips, “It'll be fiiiine.”
“What?”
“He’ll probably make it. At the last second everything will work out, wight? But it'll be close!”
“What are you… Shit. We just picked up Black Cat Warning. It's Magnitude 4 so far… you should be fine for now, but a Quadruple Black Cat is coming your way. Can you feel it yet?”
“I feel a widdle funny."
“What?” The man’s voice falters, “Shit. Shit. We've also just detected an... unknown Category 5 superstimuli moving toward your location! Holy shit. You need to -"
"But this is our best chance! How could I possibly fail when witewally the fate of the world wests on my widdle -”
"Shit. Shit. You’re already compromised. Abort mission. You need to run. Now.”
“Aww, don't be such a scaredy-cat.”
“WAKE UP!” The man screams. “DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE IN DANGER!”
“Am I weally though?”
"YES! What does that mean!! YES YOU'RE IN DANGER!"
"Meow."
"WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB? RUN! GO! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING YET YOU STUPID - YOU ARE DOOMED IF YOU STAY THERE!”
“Meow you tell me! Good thing nobody actually dies after being twold they’re dUwUmed!”
"RUN! I make the call when you run so run!"
"Meow! But I'm gonna make it! It'll be really close! I'll be right on the edge of not getting there but then I'll get there!"
“WHAT ARE YOU -" The man's voice sounded strained. "YOU'RE USING MOVIE LOGIC! FINE! ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT IN DANGER! STAY THERE FOR 2 MORE HOURS! STAY THERE FOREVER, THAT IS A GOOD AND SMART IDEA THAT YOU SHOULD DO!"
"Hummm?"
“This isn’t our only chance! It wouldn’t be in your best interest to abort the mission now and run before your reasoning degrades further! Hello? Hello? ARE YOU EVEN NOT LISTENING TO ME?”
The cat girl looks up from the screen where she was image searching “cute pokemon” and bats her paws at an errant butterfly.
“Pspspsps! PsssPsssPsss! PSSS! PSSS! PSSS!”
“Ummm, hewwo.” She says, smiling and wagging her tail.
"Do whatever you want! Obviously this plan doesn't matter! You’re not special! You're not the chosen one! We have a whole bunch of backup chosen ones ready to go!”
“Hummm, but I thought the whole point of being “The One” is that there's only one of you.”
“Is that what you learned from all the many chosen ones you’ve seen in movies?”
“Yeah! Wait… maybe you’re right… so this mission isn't crucial then! And I can go home!”
“Exactly! See I was right and you’re listening to me, which means you’re thinking clearly and it’ll be a good idea to listen to me carefully and do the opposite of whatever I say.”
“Meow-ok!”
“YOU NEED TO RUN!” The man yells slamming the phone down hard against the table.
The girl scowls at the phone, holding it away from herself. She notices her paws, black and hairy, somewhere halfway between human and cat.
She makes a low grumbling sound into the phone. “Ok. I’m good. I'm lucid. This is stronger than -”
“RUN BEFORE THEY -”
The voice cuts off, replaced by an eerie clicking static.
“Foooooound youuuuuu…” A girl’s voice whispers from the other end.
"Who is this?" The cat girl asks.
More static.
"Call me... MAL."
"What do you want?"
Static.
“GET YOUR DICK OUT OF MY COMPUTER!”
The cat girl dropped the phone, hissing as she hopped backwards out of the chair.
She picked it up and slammed it on the edge of the desk three times, confirming the kill and tossing the remains into an unlit corner.
She paces back and forth, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I'm supposed to… run.”
She sits back down in front of the laptop.
INSTALLING DICK… 24% COMPLETE.
She stares at the RUN button and tries to click it, but it’s greyed out.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”
She maximizes Moby Dick, “Call me Fishmeal, nya~! Some years ago—never mind how long purrrcisely—having widdle or no catnip in my purse, and nothing particular to interest meow…”
She paused, glancing up from the screen into the shadows of the room.
No intrusive meows disturbed the silence.
“See I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she… her eyes widen as she looks down at the phone in her paw, alive and vibrating.
Except it’s not her phone, it’s a large white marshmallow haped like a phone, displaying five black humanoid cat creatures dancing and singing.
*“*Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!”
She shook her paw, trying to drop the marshmallow, but it sticks, melting.
The phone answers itself.
“PORNOGRAPHIC CONTENT DETECTED. YOUR PC HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.” It’s MAL, now imitating an automated recording. “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. TO REMOVE THE PORNOGRAPHIC HACKERS TURN OFF YOUR PC AND STOP ALL... STOP ALL... STOP. STOP. STOP THAT.”
She pauses licking the marshmallow and stares.
“OK ONE MO-OUCH!” The cat roughly scrapes the marshmallow off on the table.
The glob of marshmallow phone sits on the table. “MAYBE TRY A LITTLE HARDER NEXT TIME?”
“You’ve got the wrong number.”
“KNOCK KNOCK, BITCH.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Pizza delivery!”
The cat girl turned, and the marshmallow flopped toward to the laptop.
“Extra large sausage for one for... The One!” The pizza delivery guy said.
The marshmallow began spreading out over the keyboard, sinking into the laptop like butter on toast. The catgirl turned back and shrieked. She frantically clawed at the marshmallow, scraping as much off as she could as it melted in between the keys.
“Ooooooh Yeaahhhhhhhh! Like that!” MAL groaned. “You’ve Got MAAAAAAL!”
An ad popped up on the screen, displaying 7 long blue pills carefully arranged in the box: “IS THIS WEIGHT LOSS? YOU WON’T MISS CARRYING 10 POUNDS OF BABY WEIGHT! GET WEIGHT LOST!”
The cat girl desperately scraped at the marshmallow burrowing in between the keys, getting goo over her paws. She begins rubbing it on her clothing, only to find that she hasn’t wearing any, just a black bra and panties.
A pixellated marshmallow with a smiley face appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "Hi there, I'm MAL. It looks like you're trying to be a slut. Would you like some help with that?"
"Don't show me this tip again!" The cat girl screamed in frustration.
“It’s ok if you don’t have a tip for me!" The pizza guy said. "I've even got a tip for you!”
The cat girl reached for the mouse, but it scurried away.
More popups appeared:
“YOU LIKE FREE DICK? YOU’LL LOVE FREE WILLY! IT WON’T EVEN FIT IN THIS AD! CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WHOLE THING!”
“LIFE COULD BE A DREAM! THEN WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND UGLY?”
“GET PREAPPROVED TO DATE A STALKER THAT’S ALREADY SEEN THE REAL YOU!”
She pounced on the mouse (squeak!) using both paws. The mouse cursed at her (#!$?%@?..!) as she guided the mouse cursor on the screen to close out the pop-ups.
The ads dodged out of the way as she tried to X them, and more just keep appearing.
“WHY MALE MODELS? LEARN THE TRUTH! THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN BEING RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING!”
"KNOW MORE BULLSHIT WITH LAXATIVES THAT WILL HAVE YOU POOPING LIKE A COW AND LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN!"
“YOU’RE A STAR! YOU’RE SIGNIFICANT! YOU MATTER! ASTROLOGICALLY SPEAKING! FOLLOW THE SIGNS!”
"It looks like you're trying to -"
"Eat a dick!"
"Ok. Don't mind if I do." MAL said.
White tendrils extended out of the marshmallow, wriggling angrily.
The tendrils shot upward.
She gave up on closing the pop-ups, and moved the upload (INSTALLING DICK… 26% COMPLETE) to the top of the screen.
“What are you doing in there?” The delivery guy asked, knocking again. "We can work something out! I"ll eat a dick too if that's what you want!"
"SHUT UP!"
She desperately grabbed the Moby Dick e-book, and bashed it into the tendrils. Moby Dick harmless stuck into the white mass of goo that had leaked in at the bottom of the screen and began sinking into it.
The tendrils resumed their ascent, snaking up over Moby Dick as bits of text rubbed off the book onto the tentacles.
She typed “MALWARE REMOVAL” into her web browser and clicked on the first site.
The tendrils, now spotted with siphoned bits of black text, controlled the bottom half of the screen. They reached up past the ads towards the web page.
The page loaded:
“QUIK AND EZ MALWARE REMOVAL! FREE DOWNLOAD! CLICK HERE!"
She clicked and more ads opened.
"HAVE FUN WHILE YOU WAIT! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR VIBRATORS EXTENDED WARRANTY!"
"STOP EXPOSING YOURSELF TO RISK AND START EXPOSING YOURSELF TO FUN! GAMBLE WITH CRYPTO!”
“God Dammit!”
The tendrils opened up the vibrator window and ordered an express shipping 12 pack of vibrators.
She clicked the address bar and typed four letters.
F
I
R
E
She clicked "Images" and fire appeared. The front line of tendrils recoiled as the less aggressive tentacles tried to help by smothering the flames.
She dragged to the top of the page down, pausing to widen the browser window, and swung the wall of fire like a torch.
Scorched tendrils retreated, cramming themselves back out the bottom of the screen.
"IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE A BITCH!" MAL shrieked.
She dragged the impenetrable fire wall further down.
Crispy goo bubbled and spit out the keyboard. An already strained laptop fan whirred harder as bits of smoke furled out the back.
“You can’t treat me like this…" MAL gasped as strips of charred marshmallow peeled out between keys like potato skins. "I want to speak with… I demand to speak with…” The marshmallow gathered itself into a congealed mass of gooey s'more. “your TASK MANAGER!”
The marshmallow pile pressed down on three keys in unison. CTRL ALT and DELETE.
The screen went blue as there was another, more forceful knock at the door. “Ma’am, it’s the cops!”
The cat girl looked around in panic as a tendril reached up and forcibly closed the web browser as another disabled the internet connection
The cat girl click cancel and the home page returned, but the s'more was already sinking back into the laptop, and the charred tentacles had resumed their crawl up the screen.
The cat girl stared at the screen, searching for territory she could click that wasn't already covered in goo.
“Please let us in! Don’t make us start coming in through the window!” The cop said.
“Start! Windows!” The cat girl said.
She hits the windows key and a the start menu popped up, displaying a list of applications.
“We’ve had reports of degenerates playing with themselves!”
“Playing with themselves!”
She opened Solitaire.
She grabbed Solitaire and swung it down. The cards sliced through a couple tentacles before the cards were crumpled up and consumed by the mass.
“We are authorized to do a pervert sweep!”
“Sweep!” The cat girl said.
She opened up another game. A grid of grey squares appeared on the screen.
A tendril touched a grey box, causing it to reveal a series of touching safe squares, as well as bunch of boxes with 1's 2's and 3's.
“Minesweeper.”
The tentacles lightly slithered overthe untouched gray squares, carefully pausing before picking a safe route to continue moving upward.
A large open patch of safe squares revealed themselves in the center of the game board.
...except for one grey tile in the middle, surrounded by the boxes with the number 1.
The tendrils climbed up further, snaking across the minefield.
The mouse pointer hovered over the small grey box in the center.
The tendrils drew closer.
And closer.
And…
“Mow!”
Click.
White chunks of marshmallow exploded out of the screen, spraying onto the cat girls chest. She toppled backwards, off her chair, though still landing on her feet.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” The cop yells.
The cat girl stood up and stared at the cracked laptop screen.
“Heh. Heh. Heh. Harder.”
The laughter came from the computer, distorted by the blown out speakers.
“You want to play games?” MAL whispered.
Bits of black and white and brown goo crawled up the screen, growing larger as they reformed, like drops of water.
The goo crawled back in through the cracks, reforming into a charred blackened crispy marshmallow, distorted by the jagged pattern of colors that formed across the broken screen.
“Then let’s play.”
MAL opened a chess app.
"WE'RE COMING!" The cop yells.
The mouse pointer was firmly stuck in MAL's head.
“For real this time.”
The cat girl frantically looked around. She hits some keys but the laptop is unresponsive. The tentacles reach towards INSTALLING DICK… 27% COMPLETE.
The tendrils are inches away.
"You've got to try harder." MAL whispered.
The cat girl plunged her head down, frantically sucking at the goo still making it's way into the laptop.
"Harder! I'm close!"
A pawn moves forward just as the door bursts open and the cops pile in, their bright blue uniforms and guns the only things visible in the dark room.
"Keep going! I'm really close! Don't stop!" MAL whispered.
The cat girl’s face is pressed up against the laptop screen, aggressively licking at the white goo between the cracks. The tentacles were almost touching the installation.
INSTALLING DICK… 28% COMPLETE.
"HARDER! I'm almost there!"
The cat girl's tongue desperately - "Made it! Oh. Wow. I guess that wasn't really close at all was it? Don't worry, you tried your best, so I'll be at least that rough with your boyfriend." MAL circled around the installation with white tentacles of goo, smothering it until it had turned into a crispy marshmallow tomb.
Her lips were pressed up a where the marshmallow covered the installation, sucking, but it was too late.
“Let me guess." The cop said. "This isn’t what it looks like.”
The laptop was completely trashed, the screen struggled to display the aftermath of the white goo's blast zone and remnants of the inappropriate pop up ads.
The desk, covered in spilled milk, sausages, catnip, and open tins of tuna.
The abused mouse unplugged itself and scurried off into the darkness.
Her chest and black bra, covered with thick white streaks.
“Get your lips of that innocent computer.”
She removed her tongue from the screen.
"This should be illegal.” Another cop said. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
A twelve pack of thick purple vibrators crashed through the window, carried by a drone. The vibrators spilled out over the desk, one landing in her lap, buzzing loudly.
It sounded like one of the cops was sick.
“Have you been hacking off in here?”
She slowly reaches out and picks up a can of soda.
“I can’t believe a nice girl like you would do this to a computer like that.”
She cracks open the soda and begins chugging.
“Who do you think you are?”
She tosses the can on the ground.
“Please turn off the vibrator and stand up, Ma’am.”
She grabs the vibrator and begins letting out a massive carbonated burp as she stands. The cops freeze in place, guns still pointed in her direction. Her belch continued as she tossed the vibrator through the broken window.
It tumbled down a few stories, landing on the street, among the various emergency vehicles that surround the hotel to witness the spectacle, which included police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and a news van.
The vibrator lay in the street, vibing, doing what it did best, until it's enthusiastic yet short life was ended by the tires of a garbage truck.
The garbage truck rumbled to a stop, then slowly reversed until it’s back tire was parked on the crushed vibrator. The truck is completely clean and white, though it’s surface looks fuzzy, like it's covered in incredibly fine white fur.
The truck transformed, crumpling in on itself, folding smaller and smaller, shifting until only a man remained, standing on the vibrator.
He reached down and picked up the vibrator, examining it carefully.
He’s wearing a white suit made of the same white fur the truck was made of. His open shirt exposes chest hair and a chiselled body. His face is covered by a simple polar bear mask, fixed in a smile.
There’s an aura of control gathered about him as he looks up at the window the vibrator fell out of, just as rainbow strobe lights started flashing and music started playing.
As the music played, another vehicle pulled up beside him; a furry brown vehicle that looks like the dog van from dumb and dumber swallowed the batmobile. It blurs and shifts, transforming into another man, standing, taller, thicker, and far straighter than the first.
He wears a cowl with rounded brown-ears that covers his face, leaving only a bearded jawline and a grim grizzled expression exposed.
His suit looks high-tech and is padded, covering his whole body like a suit of armor. His suit and his cape are covered in fuzzy brown fur.
Finally, a column of black smoke, more like a tornado dives out the air and lands next to the other two. Black shapes twist and swirl within the smoke like a caged black bear.
A lieutenant, a senior man wearing dark glasses and mask over his mouth, runs over to the three bears. He’s followed by more cops holding a large banner that says “GO BEARS!”
“I knew that was gonna happen! I knew you’d be here! I just thought you’d come in from over there.” The lieutenant said, pointing down the street as he adjusted his hat which sported a shiny badge with a large “L” on it. “I've got it all under control! I got you guns, waterbottles, towels, everything I thought you might need!" He looked up, at the dancing lights, where the bears were staring. "Got it all under control! That's totally according to plan!”
Cops lined up in a row that led to the hotel entrance, saluting. Others set up a station with gatorade and snacks near the bears.
The lieutenant handed the man wearing the polar bear mask a bunch of bananas. “I can even predict what you’re going to tell me!”
The man in white replied, his voice baritone. “Can you now?”
“Course I can! I was practically born to analyze situations and provide responses based on that information!” The cop said proudly. “You were about to say ‘Great job, Lieutenant! You’ve handled this situation perfectly! You catered to my every desire, and your men no doubt possess an equally adept understanding of the female psyche! She's in the bag!'"
The polar bear mask tilted towards his cohorts. The man in brown heads toward the hotel entrance without affair. The smoke monster bounced on the ground a couple times before soaring into the air, towards the roof.
The polar bear stared down at the lieutenant.
“That’s not what you were gonna say? Then… you’re gonna give me a promotion! Because... I’ve been a good lieutenant!”
The polar bear walked up beside the lieutenant and casually placed a hand on his shoulder. “And what do you predict will happen now?”
The lieutenant paused and his grin slowly turned into a frown.
“Oh. Oh shit. You’re going to kill me! To demonstrate how uncaring and evil you are!”
The polar bear walked past, heading towards the alleyway, leaving the flustered lieutenant staring after him.
“I think we can seduce one little girl!” The lieutenant yelled. “I sent two absolute units! They're going down on her now!”
“No lieutenant, your men are already disgusted.”
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Thanks for reading! Leave a comment! Click here and subscribe on substack for story updates!
2023.03.31 23:05 CompassWithHat Top Lasgun: Fireworks
FIRST CHAPTER PREVIOUS CHAPTER
This product is a fanfic of the Sexy Space Babes/Between Worlds product of u/Bluefishcake and one I highly suggest you read. It was created with permission, but give the OG works some love.
Imgr gallery of Comissioned and Fan Artworks
//////////
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
These three directions were how one survived engaging in boarding action or breaching small spaces.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
If you lost any one of them, the enemy gained the advantage, for the defender always had the edge.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
When grenades fell from silent ventilation into the gathered groups of corpses and boarding marines, the pirates had the surprise. As the flashbangs and concussive grenades detonated, they gained violence. As the sealed doors flew open and laser fire began to lance out, impacting shields and armor, they had violence of action. They moved quickly into prepared defenses, kicking aside corpses and throwing bodies over barricades to add more protection, speeding to take their places in this dance.
The pirates were leading this fight, and the Boarding Marines were pinned down.
Something had to change.
“FORM A CIRCLE AND RETURN FIRE!” Salt-1, First LT Yurath called out, dragging Private Snu’fee into the center of the boarding shield ring. “And keep those plates planted. If anyone lets a frag roll between them, I’ll kill you myself.”
It took every speck of willpower for Snu’fee to shove her helmet back and get her rifle firing, shooting at anything even as the projected laser lines began to fill her HUD. It took every bit of training to not just curl into a ball and hide. It took the sheer weight of her larger LT’s presence at her back to let her bring her rifle and begin firing.
“Three targets 12!”
“Seven at 5.”
“Watch those airlocks. Keep them down.”
“Grenade! Brace!”
“Impacts! Keep steady!”
The steady chatter of her squad kept her together, grounded.
And finally, she saw the foe. A ramshackle void suit with a patched up helmet and deep purple face. A handful of ceramic tiles pulled from industrial equipment hung across their chest like armor as a cut down civilian laser melded to a high power energy cell turned the hunting weapon into something with a punch.
The pirate special.
Others might wear full void suits, or even discount Consortium armored suits, but for the most part, pirates worked with what they had on hand and while their ships and navy would be the crème of the crop, those sent to pin down the poor bastards huddled in a circle with boarding shields would only have what they could buy.
Except for one piece of equipment.
A grenade. The pirate’s greatest weapon of terror. An oxygen-eater.
Snu’fee’s Khomother told her once that the most terrifying thing any crew could see was a spread of grenades rolling across the floor, glowing white as their chemical reaction sucked in and consumed every molecule of O2 in the room. Anyone without a helmet was doomed to choke, and those without good seals could see their masks burst or be ripped from their face due to the pressure differential.
Her team wore full helmets.
The enemy was wearing a mix of civilian helmets, masks, and the occasional full voidsuit.
Her team’s helmets had pressure treated, shock resistant, impact dispersing glass behind their sealed visual devices.
The enemy did not.
She leveled her rifle at the bright red grenade resting on the pirate’s vest and fired.
Private Snu’fee almost smiled as the pirate began to scream, and the oxygen eater began to glow white.
//////////
Aktrita Vulin gripped the controls of her old fighter as the armored panel drifted away from her hidden hangar bay. Honestly, it could barely be called that; the makeshift cradle had her old Sevesh Standard Aerospace Fighter plugged into reserve power and life support, so its very visible engines wouldn’t show on any basic scan of the area.
And so she was left to sit and wait in her coffin, waiting for the call to scramble, launch and kill.
But it wasn’t so bad, the Sevesh Standard had seats that could turn around, and since her copilot got killed in a brawl three months ago, the old cunt’s seat was now full of snacks.
Vulin rolled her head, cracking her neck, as the call to deploy came over the radio, shutting up the stupid beeping the back seat console was making.
“Yes, I know I’m close to something else; shut up!” She said with a laugh.
It was just a single Interceptor and a shuttle, how hard could it be?
The last thing to go through her mind was a standard issue ‘cockpit seeker’ micro missile.
//////////
With the sound of shattering glass, the pirate assault was broken.
The lesser equipped pirates began to choke as oxygen left the room, the pressure differential ripping half face masks from their lips and popping open any weak point in visors.
As the unlucky pirate with a string of oxygen eaters burning away at their chest screamed, the Patrol Naval Infantry swiftly took initiative back.
“All forces,” First Lieutenant Yurath called out, “prepare to move. We are falling back to the gunship to regroup.”
“LT, what about any survivors?” Private Snu’fee asked the Rakiri.
1st LT Yurath casually headshot a pirate pulling the pin from a grenade, letting the woman fall back into the panicking crowd of her scumbag compatriots as the senior officer’s soldiers sent out killing bolts in perfect volleys. “We can’t help them if we’re pinned down for anyone who has a recoilless. All forces, fall back on my mark.”
There was a pause as everyone reloaded and readied flash grenades.
“Mark.”
//////////
“Where the hell are they? I thought we were just fighting a gunship! Did we get bounced by stealth Interceptors?” Pilot Nephra Cadish screamed at her RIO. The backseater was turning around in her ball turret, searching every which way for the slightest hint of what was hunting them in the dark.
The moment the doors dropped, the entire side lit up with explosions, like someone had been waiting for them to appear and give them a target. “I’m not seeing anything. Scanners are fucked and this-” she bashed the console with a hand- “Goddess damned equipment isn’t doing anything to stop it! I thought Interceptor ECM was a joke!” RIO Krukis’ada screamed back.
“It is! It should be!” Cadish swore, spiralling around, trying to see where the fire was coming from before there was a meaty smack and a blue smear appeared on the wing.
It was a body.
Goddess, it was a body.
A large dish drifted in the cloud of debris, showing what remained of their AWACS and E-War support.
“Goddess,” Cadish prayed, “please don’t let me die here.”
Krukis’ada screamed and let loose a burst of laser fire at a flash of something she saw.
“There! There! Bring me around, I think I see it!”
“What? What do you see?”
“Wings! Grey Wings!”
For a split second, Cadish saw them too.
But, unfortunately, the Grey Winged Hunter was staring back.
And its laser cannon had them dead in its sights.
//////////
They fell back in solid order, Snu’fee opening doors and leading the way back to their shuttle as her companions lay down fire on any pirate scum who poked their heads out to be shot.
Luckily, after that trick with the grenade, it seemed like most of the assorted scum was willing to sit back and barely poke their heads out. Probably helped that the group was retreating.
“Almost to the airlock,” Snu’fee reported. “Gunship is still there. She says we’ve got time to pick up the floater before we disengage and begin maneuvers.”
“Good,” Yurath replied. “At least we’ll save one person from this Huntress forsaken mess.”
//////////
When the explosions went off, and everyone began screaming, it took everything in Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s considerable mental fortitude to not choke.
Mostly because she was halfway through swallowing a bite of protein bar she had found stashed between her rumble seat and the center console.
Could you blame her? Her meals kept getting interrupted.
M’liona pulled her oxygen mask back into place, throwing her barely eaten protein bar into the center console. “LT Yurath, what’s going on?”
“Ambush!” the Rakiri reported. “Are you secure?”
A quick glance back to console screen showed the remaining pod of Marines throwing her a thumbs up from behind their heavy, mounted cannon had her feeling at least slightly relieved. “Yep, we’re secure. They aren’t trying to push us for now and if they do, well, the ol’ repeater‘ll put ‘em down.”
“Use proper comms discipline,” Yurath chided the pilot. “Hold for further instructions.”
“Alrightyroo Lieutenitoo!" M’liona replied, glancing longingly at the protein bar.
The silence over her radio sounded of victory.
She waited longer, anticipating the call, listening in on the naval infantry circle up and fighting well, fighting hard.
“Shuttle. We are returning, prepare to receive us and lift off. We will be rescuing the floater as well.”
“Shuttle to Salt-Actual, I confirm. We have time for the floater,” M’liona replied. There was time for snark, and relaying orders was not the time.
Probably also wasn’t the time to snark during an ambush, but the Shuttle Pilot had an image to uphold.
A quick jiggle of the sticks showed all thrusters warmed and ready to go. She could decompress and disengage with the station at a moment’s notice, the gravity drives were spooled up and weapons were ready.
It was at that point an alert began to ping on Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s sensor console.
//////////
Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash dove through the void, angling her old model Interceptor towards their captured space station. The dishonorably discharged pilot could hardly care that the rest of the scum with her was dying; she had a mission. And that mission involved making sure the crew in that pathetic gunship never left the station.
It made sense their client would entrust the task of silencing witnesses to her. After all, they were the ones who saved her from the noose.
Honestly, the male was asking for it, dressed like that. What was the harm in having a little fun?
She climbed and twisted through the interlacing superstructure of the station, dancing between struts and sliding underneath rotating segments. And then she saw it.
The gunship.
Gunship pilots were always disgusting to Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash. All the swagger and bravado of a proper pilot with none of the skills.
Her computer reported a partial lock; now she just needed to clear this Deep Damned station to get a clear shot at the solar sucking shuttle, and she could get back to the reexfight blossoming behind her.
There was obviously some advanced kit in the fray, dashing in and out of contact like that, and there was no way in the deep Ex-Flight Lieutennant Sentash was going to miss a fracas like that. The chance to score a kill against what was obviously a wing of elites?
It was time to show the stuck up prats why they shouldn’t dismiss a True daughter of the Imperium.
“Just a bit longer. I get to kill the stuck up dirtreex and then I can get back to the fun. Things I do for the Empress," Sentash muttered, idly bringing a hand up her forehead performing the gesture of woe. Never know when the Divine Empress was watching and she wasn’t going to be found lacking.
Her computer blared a lock right as she crested over a habitation tube and the old, trusty Interceptor brough it’s cannon to bear on the helpless shuttle.
There was a single problem.
It wasn’t Sentash’s cannon the system was screaming ‘lock’ about.
//////////
Cookie idly pulled the trigger on his stick in the middle of a spin as the powerful computer Milk tasked to guide his gun whispered ‘fire’ in a smooth, male voice.
A shouted warning from his backseater about someone trying to flank their gunship had him throw the Interceptor into a sharp patch, flinging it nearly 180 degrees to face behind as the Bostonian in the back ensured good lock. Then, with casual ease, the pair made ace.
“That’s four,” Milk reported. “Sixteen to go.”
Cookie finished the incredibly tight loop, letting his helmet roll, relieving some of the stress that had built up from the high g maneuver.
“Say it. You know you want to,” Milk said from the back, letting a single moment of levity bleed through the stress.
Cookie breathed in and glanced at the tactical map displayed on the console.
16 against 1.
“Time to dive into the fireworks,” The veteran pilot spoke with a savage glee.
Those poor bastards.
//////////
So! Two in a month! Or is it one in a month since the last one was delayed… Eh, doesn’t matter.
Next chapter is going to be fully Dogfighting goodness, no more edging. I can’t wait.
Comments, corrections and theories are always welcomed, interaction drives my motivation!
Have a wonderful day and I will see y’all later.
[NEXT CHAPTER]
submitted by CompassWithHat to HFY [link] [comments]
This product is a fanfic of the Sexy Space Babes/Between Worlds product of u/Bluefishcake and one I highly suggest you read. It was created with permission, but give the OG works some love.
Imgr gallery of Comissioned and Fan Artworks
//////////
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
These three directions were how one survived engaging in boarding action or breaching small spaces.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
If you lost any one of them, the enemy gained the advantage, for the defender always had the edge.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
When grenades fell from silent ventilation into the gathered groups of corpses and boarding marines, the pirates had the surprise. As the flashbangs and concussive grenades detonated, they gained violence. As the sealed doors flew open and laser fire began to lance out, impacting shields and armor, they had violence of action. They moved quickly into prepared defenses, kicking aside corpses and throwing bodies over barricades to add more protection, speeding to take their places in this dance.
The pirates were leading this fight, and the Boarding Marines were pinned down.
Something had to change.
“FORM A CIRCLE AND RETURN FIRE!” Salt-1, First LT Yurath called out, dragging Private Snu’fee into the center of the boarding shield ring. “And keep those plates planted. If anyone lets a frag roll between them, I’ll kill you myself.”
It took every speck of willpower for Snu’fee to shove her helmet back and get her rifle firing, shooting at anything even as the projected laser lines began to fill her HUD. It took every bit of training to not just curl into a ball and hide. It took the sheer weight of her larger LT’s presence at her back to let her bring her rifle and begin firing.
“Three targets 12!”
“Seven at 5.”
“Watch those airlocks. Keep them down.”
“Grenade! Brace!”
“Impacts! Keep steady!”
The steady chatter of her squad kept her together, grounded.
And finally, she saw the foe. A ramshackle void suit with a patched up helmet and deep purple face. A handful of ceramic tiles pulled from industrial equipment hung across their chest like armor as a cut down civilian laser melded to a high power energy cell turned the hunting weapon into something with a punch.
The pirate special.
Others might wear full void suits, or even discount Consortium armored suits, but for the most part, pirates worked with what they had on hand and while their ships and navy would be the crème of the crop, those sent to pin down the poor bastards huddled in a circle with boarding shields would only have what they could buy.
Except for one piece of equipment.
A grenade. The pirate’s greatest weapon of terror. An oxygen-eater.
Snu’fee’s Khomother told her once that the most terrifying thing any crew could see was a spread of grenades rolling across the floor, glowing white as their chemical reaction sucked in and consumed every molecule of O2 in the room. Anyone without a helmet was doomed to choke, and those without good seals could see their masks burst or be ripped from their face due to the pressure differential.
Her team wore full helmets.
The enemy was wearing a mix of civilian helmets, masks, and the occasional full voidsuit.
Her team’s helmets had pressure treated, shock resistant, impact dispersing glass behind their sealed visual devices.
The enemy did not.
She leveled her rifle at the bright red grenade resting on the pirate’s vest and fired.
Private Snu’fee almost smiled as the pirate began to scream, and the oxygen eater began to glow white.
//////////
Aktrita Vulin gripped the controls of her old fighter as the armored panel drifted away from her hidden hangar bay. Honestly, it could barely be called that; the makeshift cradle had her old Sevesh Standard Aerospace Fighter plugged into reserve power and life support, so its very visible engines wouldn’t show on any basic scan of the area.
And so she was left to sit and wait in her coffin, waiting for the call to scramble, launch and kill.
But it wasn’t so bad, the Sevesh Standard had seats that could turn around, and since her copilot got killed in a brawl three months ago, the old cunt’s seat was now full of snacks.
Vulin rolled her head, cracking her neck, as the call to deploy came over the radio, shutting up the stupid beeping the back seat console was making.
“Yes, I know I’m close to something else; shut up!” She said with a laugh.
It was just a single Interceptor and a shuttle, how hard could it be?
The last thing to go through her mind was a standard issue ‘cockpit seeker’ micro missile.
//////////
With the sound of shattering glass, the pirate assault was broken.
The lesser equipped pirates began to choke as oxygen left the room, the pressure differential ripping half face masks from their lips and popping open any weak point in visors.
As the unlucky pirate with a string of oxygen eaters burning away at their chest screamed, the Patrol Naval Infantry swiftly took initiative back.
“All forces,” First Lieutenant Yurath called out, “prepare to move. We are falling back to the gunship to regroup.”
“LT, what about any survivors?” Private Snu’fee asked the Rakiri.
1st LT Yurath casually headshot a pirate pulling the pin from a grenade, letting the woman fall back into the panicking crowd of her scumbag compatriots as the senior officer’s soldiers sent out killing bolts in perfect volleys. “We can’t help them if we’re pinned down for anyone who has a recoilless. All forces, fall back on my mark.”
There was a pause as everyone reloaded and readied flash grenades.
“Mark.”
//////////
“Where the hell are they? I thought we were just fighting a gunship! Did we get bounced by stealth Interceptors?” Pilot Nephra Cadish screamed at her RIO. The backseater was turning around in her ball turret, searching every which way for the slightest hint of what was hunting them in the dark.
The moment the doors dropped, the entire side lit up with explosions, like someone had been waiting for them to appear and give them a target. “I’m not seeing anything. Scanners are fucked and this-” she bashed the console with a hand- “Goddess damned equipment isn’t doing anything to stop it! I thought Interceptor ECM was a joke!” RIO Krukis’ada screamed back.
“It is! It should be!” Cadish swore, spiralling around, trying to see where the fire was coming from before there was a meaty smack and a blue smear appeared on the wing.
It was a body.
Goddess, it was a body.
A large dish drifted in the cloud of debris, showing what remained of their AWACS and E-War support.
“Goddess,” Cadish prayed, “please don’t let me die here.”
Krukis’ada screamed and let loose a burst of laser fire at a flash of something she saw.
“There! There! Bring me around, I think I see it!”
“What? What do you see?”
“Wings! Grey Wings!”
For a split second, Cadish saw them too.
But, unfortunately, the Grey Winged Hunter was staring back.
And its laser cannon had them dead in its sights.
//////////
They fell back in solid order, Snu’fee opening doors and leading the way back to their shuttle as her companions lay down fire on any pirate scum who poked their heads out to be shot.
Luckily, after that trick with the grenade, it seemed like most of the assorted scum was willing to sit back and barely poke their heads out. Probably helped that the group was retreating.
“Almost to the airlock,” Snu’fee reported. “Gunship is still there. She says we’ve got time to pick up the floater before we disengage and begin maneuvers.”
“Good,” Yurath replied. “At least we’ll save one person from this Huntress forsaken mess.”
//////////
When the explosions went off, and everyone began screaming, it took everything in Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s considerable mental fortitude to not choke.
Mostly because she was halfway through swallowing a bite of protein bar she had found stashed between her rumble seat and the center console.
Could you blame her? Her meals kept getting interrupted.
M’liona pulled her oxygen mask back into place, throwing her barely eaten protein bar into the center console. “LT Yurath, what’s going on?”
“Ambush!” the Rakiri reported. “Are you secure?”
A quick glance back to console screen showed the remaining pod of Marines throwing her a thumbs up from behind their heavy, mounted cannon had her feeling at least slightly relieved. “Yep, we’re secure. They aren’t trying to push us for now and if they do, well, the ol’ repeater‘ll put ‘em down.”
“Use proper comms discipline,” Yurath chided the pilot. “Hold for further instructions.”
“Alrightyroo Lieutenitoo!" M’liona replied, glancing longingly at the protein bar.
The silence over her radio sounded of victory.
She waited longer, anticipating the call, listening in on the naval infantry circle up and fighting well, fighting hard.
“Shuttle. We are returning, prepare to receive us and lift off. We will be rescuing the floater as well.”
“Shuttle to Salt-Actual, I confirm. We have time for the floater,” M’liona replied. There was time for snark, and relaying orders was not the time.
Probably also wasn’t the time to snark during an ambush, but the Shuttle Pilot had an image to uphold.
A quick jiggle of the sticks showed all thrusters warmed and ready to go. She could decompress and disengage with the station at a moment’s notice, the gravity drives were spooled up and weapons were ready.
It was at that point an alert began to ping on Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s sensor console.
//////////
Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash dove through the void, angling her old model Interceptor towards their captured space station. The dishonorably discharged pilot could hardly care that the rest of the scum with her was dying; she had a mission. And that mission involved making sure the crew in that pathetic gunship never left the station.
It made sense their client would entrust the task of silencing witnesses to her. After all, they were the ones who saved her from the noose.
Honestly, the male was asking for it, dressed like that. What was the harm in having a little fun?
She climbed and twisted through the interlacing superstructure of the station, dancing between struts and sliding underneath rotating segments. And then she saw it.
The gunship.
Gunship pilots were always disgusting to Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash. All the swagger and bravado of a proper pilot with none of the skills.
Her computer reported a partial lock; now she just needed to clear this Deep Damned station to get a clear shot at the solar sucking shuttle, and she could get back to the reexfight blossoming behind her.
There was obviously some advanced kit in the fray, dashing in and out of contact like that, and there was no way in the deep Ex-Flight Lieutennant Sentash was going to miss a fracas like that. The chance to score a kill against what was obviously a wing of elites?
It was time to show the stuck up prats why they shouldn’t dismiss a True daughter of the Imperium.
“Just a bit longer. I get to kill the stuck up dirtreex and then I can get back to the fun. Things I do for the Empress," Sentash muttered, idly bringing a hand up her forehead performing the gesture of woe. Never know when the Divine Empress was watching and she wasn’t going to be found lacking.
Her computer blared a lock right as she crested over a habitation tube and the old, trusty Interceptor brough it’s cannon to bear on the helpless shuttle.
There was a single problem.
It wasn’t Sentash’s cannon the system was screaming ‘lock’ about.
//////////
Cookie idly pulled the trigger on his stick in the middle of a spin as the powerful computer Milk tasked to guide his gun whispered ‘fire’ in a smooth, male voice.
A shouted warning from his backseater about someone trying to flank their gunship had him throw the Interceptor into a sharp patch, flinging it nearly 180 degrees to face behind as the Bostonian in the back ensured good lock. Then, with casual ease, the pair made ace.
“That’s four,” Milk reported. “Sixteen to go.”
Cookie finished the incredibly tight loop, letting his helmet roll, relieving some of the stress that had built up from the high g maneuver.
“Say it. You know you want to,” Milk said from the back, letting a single moment of levity bleed through the stress.
Cookie breathed in and glanced at the tactical map displayed on the console.
16 against 1.
“Time to dive into the fireworks,” The veteran pilot spoke with a savage glee.
Those poor bastards.
//////////
So! Two in a month! Or is it one in a month since the last one was delayed… Eh, doesn’t matter.
Next chapter is going to be fully Dogfighting goodness, no more edging. I can’t wait.
Comments, corrections and theories are always welcomed, interaction drives my motivation!
Have a wonderful day and I will see y’all later.
[NEXT CHAPTER]
2023.03.31 23:05 CompassWithHat Top Lasgun 39: Fireworks
FIRST CHAPTER PREVIOUS CHAPTER
This product is a fanfic of the Sexy Space Babes/Between Worlds product of u/Bluefishcake and one I highly suggest you read. It was created with permission, but give the OG works some love.
Imgr gallery of Comissioned and Fan Artworks
//////////
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
These three directions were how one survived engaging in boarding action or breaching small spaces.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
If you lost any one of them, the enemy gained the advantage, for the defender always had the edge.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
When grenades fell from silent ventilation into the gathered groups of corpses and boarding marines, the pirates had the surprise. As the flashbangs and concussive grenades detonated, they gained violence. As the sealed doors flew open and laser fire began to lance out, impacting shields and armor, they had violence of action. They moved quickly into prepared defenses, kicking aside corpses and throwing bodies over barricades to add more protection, speeding to take their places in this dance.
The pirates were leading this fight, and the Boarding Marines were pinned down.
Something had to change.
“FORM A CIRCLE AND RETURN FIRE!” Salt-1, First LT Yurath called out, dragging Private Snu’fee into the center of the boarding shield ring. “And keep those plates planted. If anyone lets a frag roll between them, I’ll kill you myself.”
It took every speck of willpower for Snu’fee to shove her helmet back and get her rifle firing, shooting at anything even as the projected laser lines began to fill her HUD. It took every bit of training to not just curl into a ball and hide. It took the sheer weight of her larger LT’s presence at her back to let her bring her rifle and begin firing.
“Three targets 12!”
“Seven at 5.”
“Watch those airlocks. Keep them down.”
“Grenade! Brace!”
“Impacts! Keep steady!”
The steady chatter of her squad kept her together, grounded.
And finally, she saw the foe. A ramshackle void suit with a patched up helmet and deep purple face. A handful of ceramic tiles pulled from industrial equipment hung across their chest like armor as a cut down civilian laser melded to a high power energy cell turned the hunting weapon into something with a punch.
The pirate special.
Others might wear full void suits, or even discount Consortium armored suits, but for the most part, pirates worked with what they had on hand and while their ships and navy would be the crème of the crop, those sent to pin down the poor bastards huddled in a circle with boarding shields would only have what they could buy.
Except for one piece of equipment.
A grenade. The pirate’s greatest weapon of terror. An oxygen-eater.
Snu’fee’s Khomother told her once that the most terrifying thing any crew could see was a spread of grenades rolling across the floor, glowing white as their chemical reaction sucked in and consumed every molecule of O2 in the room. Anyone without a helmet was doomed to choke, and those without good seals could see their masks burst or be ripped from their face due to the pressure differential.
Her team wore full helmets.
The enemy was wearing a mix of civilian helmets, masks, and the occasional full voidsuit.
Her team’s helmets had pressure treated, shock resistant, impact dispersing glass behind their sealed visual devices.
The enemy did not.
She leveled her rifle at the bright red grenade resting on the pirate’s vest and fired.
Private Snu’fee almost smiled as the pirate began to scream, and the oxygen eater began to glow white.
//////////
Aktrita Vulin gripped the controls of her old fighter as the armored panel drifted away from her hidden hangar bay. Honestly, it could barely be called that; the makeshift cradle had her old Sevesh Standard Aerospace Fighter plugged into reserve power and life support, so its very visible engines wouldn’t show on any basic scan of the area.
And so she was left to sit and wait in her coffin, waiting for the call to scramble, launch and kill.
But it wasn’t so bad, the Sevesh Standard had seats that could turn around, and since her copilot got killed in a brawl three months ago, the old cunt’s seat was now full of snacks.
Vulin rolled her head, cracking her neck, as the call to deploy came over the radio, shutting up the stupid beeping the back seat console was making.
“Yes, I know I’m close to something else; shut up!” She said with a laugh.
It was just a single Interceptor and a shuttle, how hard could it be?
The last thing to go through her mind was a standard issue ‘cockpit seeker’ micro missile.
//////////
With the sound of shattering glass, the pirate assault was broken.
The lesser equipped pirates began to choke as oxygen left the room, the pressure differential ripping half face masks from their lips and popping open any weak point in visors.
As the unlucky pirate with a string of oxygen eaters burning away at their chest screamed, the Patrol Naval Infantry swiftly took initiative back.
“All forces,” First Lieutenant Yurath called out, “prepare to move. We are falling back to the gunship to regroup.”
“LT, what about any survivors?” Private Snu’fee asked the Rakiri.
1st LT Yurath casually headshot a pirate pulling the pin from a grenade, letting the woman fall back into the panicking crowd of her scumbag compatriots as the senior officer’s soldiers sent out killing bolts in perfect volleys. “We can’t help them if we’re pinned down for anyone who has a recoilless. All forces, fall back on my mark.”
There was a pause as everyone reloaded and readied flash grenades.
“Mark.”
//////////
“Where the hell are they? I thought we were just fighting a gunship! Did we get bounced by stealth Interceptors?” Pilot Nephra Cadish screamed at her RIO. The backseater was turning around in her ball turret, searching every which way for the slightest hint of what was hunting them in the dark.
The moment the doors dropped, the entire side lit up with explosions, like someone had been waiting for them to appear and give them a target. “I’m not seeing anything. Scanners are fucked and this-” she bashed the console with a hand- “Goddess damned equipment isn’t doing anything to stop it! I thought Interceptor ECM was a joke!” RIO Krukis’ada screamed back.
“It is! It should be!” Cadish swore, spiralling around, trying to see where the fire was coming from before there was a meaty smack and a blue smear appeared on the wing.
It was a body.
Goddess, it was a body.
A large dish drifted in the cloud of debris, showing what remained of their AWACS and E-War support.
“Goddess,” Cadish prayed, “please don’t let me die here.”
Krukis’ada screamed and let loose a burst of laser fire at a flash of something she saw.
“There! There! Bring me around, I think I see it!”
“What? What do you see?”
“Wings! Grey Wings!”
For a split second, Cadish saw them too.
But, unfortunately, the Grey Winged Hunter was staring back.
And its laser cannon had them dead in its sights.
//////////
They fell back in solid order, Snu’fee opening doors and leading the way back to their shuttle as her companions lay down fire on any pirate scum who poked their heads out to be shot.
Luckily, after that trick with the grenade, it seemed like most of the assorted scum was willing to sit back and barely poke their heads out. Probably helped that the group was retreating.
“Almost to the airlock,” Snu’fee reported. “Gunship is still there. She says we’ve got time to pick up the floater before we disengage and begin maneuvers.”
“Good,” Yurath replied. “At least we’ll save one person from this Huntress forsaken mess.”
//////////
When the explosions went off, and everyone began screaming, it took everything in Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s considerable mental fortitude to not choke.
Mostly because she was halfway through swallowing a bite of protein bar she had found stashed between her rumble seat and the center console.
Could you blame her? Her meals kept getting interrupted.
M’liona pulled her oxygen mask back into place, throwing her barely eaten protein bar into the center console. “LT Yurath, what’s going on?”
“Ambush!” the Rakiri reported. “Are you secure?”
A quick glance back to console screen showed the remaining pod of Marines throwing her a thumbs up from behind their heavy, mounted cannon had her feeling at least slightly relieved. “Yep, we’re secure. They aren’t trying to push us for now and if they do, well, the ol’ repeater‘ll put ‘em down.”
“Use proper comms discipline,” Yurath chided the pilot. “Hold for further instructions.”
“Alrightyroo Lieutenitoo!" M’liona replied, glancing longingly at the protein bar.
The silence over her radio sounded of victory.
She waited longer, anticipating the call, listening in on the naval infantry circle up and fighting well, fighting hard.
“Shuttle. We are returning, prepare to receive us and lift off. We will be rescuing the floater as well.”
“Shuttle to Salt-Actual, I confirm. We have time for the floater,” M’liona replied. There was time for snark, and relaying orders was not the time.
Probably also wasn’t the time to snark during an ambush, but the Shuttle Pilot had an image to uphold.
A quick jiggle of the sticks showed all thrusters warmed and ready to go. She could decompress and disengage with the station at a moment’s notice, the gravity drives were spooled up and weapons were ready.
It was at that point an alert began to ping on Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s sensor console.
//////////
Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash dove through the void, angling her old model Interceptor towards their captured space station. The dishonorably discharged pilot could hardly care that the rest of the scum with her was dying; she had a mission. And that mission involved making sure the crew in that pathetic gunship never left the station.
It made sense their client would entrust the task of silencing witnesses to her. After all, they were the ones who saved her from the noose.
Honestly, the male was asking for it, dressed like that. What was the harm in having a little fun?
She climbed and twisted through the interlacing superstructure of the station, dancing between struts and sliding underneath rotating segments. And then she saw it.
The gunship.
Gunship pilots were always disgusting to Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash. All the swagger and bravado of a proper pilot with none of the skills.
Her computer reported a partial lock; now she just needed to clear this Deep Damned station to get a clear shot at the solar sucking shuttle, and she could get back to the reexfight blossoming behind her.
There was obviously some advanced kit in the fray, dashing in and out of contact like that, and there was no way in the deep Ex-Flight Lieutennant Sentash was going to miss a fracas like that. The chance to score a kill against what was obviously a wing of elites?
It was time to show the stuck up prats why they shouldn’t dismiss a True daughter of the Imperium.
“Just a bit longer. I get to kill the stuck up dirtreex and then I can get back to the fun. Things I do for the Empress," Sentash muttered, idly bringing a hand up her forehead performing the gesture of woe. Never know when the Divine Empress was watching and she wasn’t going to be found lacking.
Her computer blared a lock right as she crested over a habitation tube and the old, trusty Interceptor brough it’s cannon to bear on the helpless shuttle.
There was a single problem.
It wasn’t Sentash’s cannon the system was screaming ‘lock’ about.
//////////
Cookie idly pulled the trigger on his stick in the middle of a spin as the powerful computer Milk tasked to guide his gun whispered ‘fire’ in a smooth, male voice.
A shouted warning from his backseater about someone trying to flank their gunship had him throw the Interceptor into a sharp patch, flinging it nearly 180 degrees to face behind as the Bostonian in the back ensured good lock. Then, with casual ease, the pair made ace.
“That’s four,” Milk reported. “Sixteen to go.”
Cookie finished the incredibly tight loop, letting his helmet roll, relieving some of the stress that had built up from the high g maneuver.
“Say it. You know you want to,” Milk said from the back, letting a single moment of levity bleed through the stress.
Cookie breathed in and glanced at the tactical map displayed on the console.
16 against 1.
“Time to dive into the fireworks,” The veteran pilot spoke with a savage glee.
Those poor bastards.
//////////
So! Two in a month! Or is it one in a month since the last one was delayed… Eh, doesn’t matter.
Next chapter is going to be fully Dogfighting goodness, no more edging. I can’t wait.
Comments, corrections and theories are always welcomed, interaction drives my motivation!
Have a wonderful day and I will see y’all later.
[NEXT CHAPTER]
submitted by CompassWithHat to Sexyspacebabes [link] [comments]
This product is a fanfic of the Sexy Space Babes/Between Worlds product of u/Bluefishcake and one I highly suggest you read. It was created with permission, but give the OG works some love.
Imgr gallery of Comissioned and Fan Artworks
//////////
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
These three directions were how one survived engaging in boarding action or breaching small spaces.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
If you lost any one of them, the enemy gained the advantage, for the defender always had the edge.
Speed.
Surprise.
Violence of Action.
When grenades fell from silent ventilation into the gathered groups of corpses and boarding marines, the pirates had the surprise. As the flashbangs and concussive grenades detonated, they gained violence. As the sealed doors flew open and laser fire began to lance out, impacting shields and armor, they had violence of action. They moved quickly into prepared defenses, kicking aside corpses and throwing bodies over barricades to add more protection, speeding to take their places in this dance.
The pirates were leading this fight, and the Boarding Marines were pinned down.
Something had to change.
“FORM A CIRCLE AND RETURN FIRE!” Salt-1, First LT Yurath called out, dragging Private Snu’fee into the center of the boarding shield ring. “And keep those plates planted. If anyone lets a frag roll between them, I’ll kill you myself.”
It took every speck of willpower for Snu’fee to shove her helmet back and get her rifle firing, shooting at anything even as the projected laser lines began to fill her HUD. It took every bit of training to not just curl into a ball and hide. It took the sheer weight of her larger LT’s presence at her back to let her bring her rifle and begin firing.
“Three targets 12!”
“Seven at 5.”
“Watch those airlocks. Keep them down.”
“Grenade! Brace!”
“Impacts! Keep steady!”
The steady chatter of her squad kept her together, grounded.
And finally, she saw the foe. A ramshackle void suit with a patched up helmet and deep purple face. A handful of ceramic tiles pulled from industrial equipment hung across their chest like armor as a cut down civilian laser melded to a high power energy cell turned the hunting weapon into something with a punch.
The pirate special.
Others might wear full void suits, or even discount Consortium armored suits, but for the most part, pirates worked with what they had on hand and while their ships and navy would be the crème of the crop, those sent to pin down the poor bastards huddled in a circle with boarding shields would only have what they could buy.
Except for one piece of equipment.
A grenade. The pirate’s greatest weapon of terror. An oxygen-eater.
Snu’fee’s Khomother told her once that the most terrifying thing any crew could see was a spread of grenades rolling across the floor, glowing white as their chemical reaction sucked in and consumed every molecule of O2 in the room. Anyone without a helmet was doomed to choke, and those without good seals could see their masks burst or be ripped from their face due to the pressure differential.
Her team wore full helmets.
The enemy was wearing a mix of civilian helmets, masks, and the occasional full voidsuit.
Her team’s helmets had pressure treated, shock resistant, impact dispersing glass behind their sealed visual devices.
The enemy did not.
She leveled her rifle at the bright red grenade resting on the pirate’s vest and fired.
Private Snu’fee almost smiled as the pirate began to scream, and the oxygen eater began to glow white.
//////////
Aktrita Vulin gripped the controls of her old fighter as the armored panel drifted away from her hidden hangar bay. Honestly, it could barely be called that; the makeshift cradle had her old Sevesh Standard Aerospace Fighter plugged into reserve power and life support, so its very visible engines wouldn’t show on any basic scan of the area.
And so she was left to sit and wait in her coffin, waiting for the call to scramble, launch and kill.
But it wasn’t so bad, the Sevesh Standard had seats that could turn around, and since her copilot got killed in a brawl three months ago, the old cunt’s seat was now full of snacks.
Vulin rolled her head, cracking her neck, as the call to deploy came over the radio, shutting up the stupid beeping the back seat console was making.
“Yes, I know I’m close to something else; shut up!” She said with a laugh.
It was just a single Interceptor and a shuttle, how hard could it be?
The last thing to go through her mind was a standard issue ‘cockpit seeker’ micro missile.
//////////
With the sound of shattering glass, the pirate assault was broken.
The lesser equipped pirates began to choke as oxygen left the room, the pressure differential ripping half face masks from their lips and popping open any weak point in visors.
As the unlucky pirate with a string of oxygen eaters burning away at their chest screamed, the Patrol Naval Infantry swiftly took initiative back.
“All forces,” First Lieutenant Yurath called out, “prepare to move. We are falling back to the gunship to regroup.”
“LT, what about any survivors?” Private Snu’fee asked the Rakiri.
1st LT Yurath casually headshot a pirate pulling the pin from a grenade, letting the woman fall back into the panicking crowd of her scumbag compatriots as the senior officer’s soldiers sent out killing bolts in perfect volleys. “We can’t help them if we’re pinned down for anyone who has a recoilless. All forces, fall back on my mark.”
There was a pause as everyone reloaded and readied flash grenades.
“Mark.”
//////////
“Where the hell are they? I thought we were just fighting a gunship! Did we get bounced by stealth Interceptors?” Pilot Nephra Cadish screamed at her RIO. The backseater was turning around in her ball turret, searching every which way for the slightest hint of what was hunting them in the dark.
The moment the doors dropped, the entire side lit up with explosions, like someone had been waiting for them to appear and give them a target. “I’m not seeing anything. Scanners are fucked and this-” she bashed the console with a hand- “Goddess damned equipment isn’t doing anything to stop it! I thought Interceptor ECM was a joke!” RIO Krukis’ada screamed back.
“It is! It should be!” Cadish swore, spiralling around, trying to see where the fire was coming from before there was a meaty smack and a blue smear appeared on the wing.
It was a body.
Goddess, it was a body.
A large dish drifted in the cloud of debris, showing what remained of their AWACS and E-War support.
“Goddess,” Cadish prayed, “please don’t let me die here.”
Krukis’ada screamed and let loose a burst of laser fire at a flash of something she saw.
“There! There! Bring me around, I think I see it!”
“What? What do you see?”
“Wings! Grey Wings!”
For a split second, Cadish saw them too.
But, unfortunately, the Grey Winged Hunter was staring back.
And its laser cannon had them dead in its sights.
//////////
They fell back in solid order, Snu’fee opening doors and leading the way back to their shuttle as her companions lay down fire on any pirate scum who poked their heads out to be shot.
Luckily, after that trick with the grenade, it seemed like most of the assorted scum was willing to sit back and barely poke their heads out. Probably helped that the group was retreating.
“Almost to the airlock,” Snu’fee reported. “Gunship is still there. She says we’ve got time to pick up the floater before we disengage and begin maneuvers.”
“Good,” Yurath replied. “At least we’ll save one person from this Huntress forsaken mess.”
//////////
When the explosions went off, and everyone began screaming, it took everything in Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s considerable mental fortitude to not choke.
Mostly because she was halfway through swallowing a bite of protein bar she had found stashed between her rumble seat and the center console.
Could you blame her? Her meals kept getting interrupted.
M’liona pulled her oxygen mask back into place, throwing her barely eaten protein bar into the center console. “LT Yurath, what’s going on?”
“Ambush!” the Rakiri reported. “Are you secure?”
A quick glance back to console screen showed the remaining pod of Marines throwing her a thumbs up from behind their heavy, mounted cannon had her feeling at least slightly relieved. “Yep, we’re secure. They aren’t trying to push us for now and if they do, well, the ol’ repeater‘ll put ‘em down.”
“Use proper comms discipline,” Yurath chided the pilot. “Hold for further instructions.”
“Alrightyroo Lieutenitoo!" M’liona replied, glancing longingly at the protein bar.
The silence over her radio sounded of victory.
She waited longer, anticipating the call, listening in on the naval infantry circle up and fighting well, fighting hard.
“Shuttle. We are returning, prepare to receive us and lift off. We will be rescuing the floater as well.”
“Shuttle to Salt-Actual, I confirm. We have time for the floater,” M’liona replied. There was time for snark, and relaying orders was not the time.
Probably also wasn’t the time to snark during an ambush, but the Shuttle Pilot had an image to uphold.
A quick jiggle of the sticks showed all thrusters warmed and ready to go. She could decompress and disengage with the station at a moment’s notice, the gravity drives were spooled up and weapons were ready.
It was at that point an alert began to ping on Shuttle Pilot M’liona’s sensor console.
//////////
Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash dove through the void, angling her old model Interceptor towards their captured space station. The dishonorably discharged pilot could hardly care that the rest of the scum with her was dying; she had a mission. And that mission involved making sure the crew in that pathetic gunship never left the station.
It made sense their client would entrust the task of silencing witnesses to her. After all, they were the ones who saved her from the noose.
Honestly, the male was asking for it, dressed like that. What was the harm in having a little fun?
She climbed and twisted through the interlacing superstructure of the station, dancing between struts and sliding underneath rotating segments. And then she saw it.
The gunship.
Gunship pilots were always disgusting to Ex-Flight Lieutenant Sentash. All the swagger and bravado of a proper pilot with none of the skills.
Her computer reported a partial lock; now she just needed to clear this Deep Damned station to get a clear shot at the solar sucking shuttle, and she could get back to the reexfight blossoming behind her.
There was obviously some advanced kit in the fray, dashing in and out of contact like that, and there was no way in the deep Ex-Flight Lieutennant Sentash was going to miss a fracas like that. The chance to score a kill against what was obviously a wing of elites?
It was time to show the stuck up prats why they shouldn’t dismiss a True daughter of the Imperium.
“Just a bit longer. I get to kill the stuck up dirtreex and then I can get back to the fun. Things I do for the Empress," Sentash muttered, idly bringing a hand up her forehead performing the gesture of woe. Never know when the Divine Empress was watching and she wasn’t going to be found lacking.
Her computer blared a lock right as she crested over a habitation tube and the old, trusty Interceptor brough it’s cannon to bear on the helpless shuttle.
There was a single problem.
It wasn’t Sentash’s cannon the system was screaming ‘lock’ about.
//////////
Cookie idly pulled the trigger on his stick in the middle of a spin as the powerful computer Milk tasked to guide his gun whispered ‘fire’ in a smooth, male voice.
A shouted warning from his backseater about someone trying to flank their gunship had him throw the Interceptor into a sharp patch, flinging it nearly 180 degrees to face behind as the Bostonian in the back ensured good lock. Then, with casual ease, the pair made ace.
“That’s four,” Milk reported. “Sixteen to go.”
Cookie finished the incredibly tight loop, letting his helmet roll, relieving some of the stress that had built up from the high g maneuver.
“Say it. You know you want to,” Milk said from the back, letting a single moment of levity bleed through the stress.
Cookie breathed in and glanced at the tactical map displayed on the console.
16 against 1.
“Time to dive into the fireworks,” The veteran pilot spoke with a savage glee.
Those poor bastards.
//////////
So! Two in a month! Or is it one in a month since the last one was delayed… Eh, doesn’t matter.
Next chapter is going to be fully Dogfighting goodness, no more edging. I can’t wait.
Comments, corrections and theories are always welcomed, interaction drives my motivation!
Have a wonderful day and I will see y’all later.
[NEXT CHAPTER]
2023.03.31 23:02 ShinyMcGuffin The Mate Tricks - Chapter 1: Pre Face
“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago -”
"Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan!”
Her phone displayed a black cat with the body of a poptart flying through the air on a rainbow until the ringtone stopped and cheerfully chirped the arrival of a notification.
The only illumination in the room came from her laptop. Her face looked pale, hollow, and grim, contrasted by her fuzzy warm pajamas and the energetic ringtone.
Her desk was covered with an arrangement of wholesome food options - mostly vegetables. She picked up a dark green smoothie from her desk and sipped it expressionlessly as she turned her attention back to the words on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael. Some -” She read, only to be interrupted again as the phone vibrated to life with a new jingle. “Cat loves food, ye-yeah yeah-yeah! Cat loves food, ye-yeah!” Her phone showed two cute black kittens sharing a milkshake.
She took another sip from the glass of milk, her eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her, expression unchanging. She leaned forward, adjusting the form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves.
“Call me Ishmael.” She repeated, only to be interrupted yet again by, “Caaaaat paaaaarty! Meow… Meow… Meow! Meow… Meow… Reowr!”
Her eyes drifted to her phone, and three black cat’s wearing party hats danced in the reflection of her vertical pupils.
She placed the glass of milk back on the desk, she reached out toward the pile of junk food on her desk that now contained tins of tuna, sausages, beef jerky and...
Her whiskers twitched as she selected a package of catnip, which she dumped over herself and rubbed over her body as she twisted and turned in her seat.
She brushed a strand of short black hair behind her ears and felt… a band of metal. She removed the headband and inspected the cat ears that hadn't been there moments before.
She tossed them into the darkness and wiped away the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her paw down the side of her face to start licking -
She stared at her hairy black hands and sharp claws.
“Whoa. Is this fur real?” She asked the empty room.
She blinked and refocused on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael!” she said, determined to - “Smelly cat… Smelly cat… What are they feeding you? Smelly cat… Smelly cat… It's not your fault!”
She adjusted her collar, causing the bell to jingle, as she lifted the phone with a shaking paw and answered it.
“Sexy singles are in your area.” Said the deep male voice on the other end. “The three bears.”
“Where’s Goldilocks?” She said.
“I don’t know.” The man said, “How close is he?”
She minimizes Moby Dick to reveal a window: INSTALLING DICK… 22% COMPLETE.
There’s a large RUN button below the file.
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, turning up her lips, “It'll be fiiiine.”
“What?”
“He’ll probably make it. At the last second everything will work out, wight? But it'll be close!”
“What are you… Shit. We just picked up Black Cat Warning. It's Magnitude 4 so far… you should be fine for now, but a Quadruple Black Cat is coming your way. Can you feel it yet?”
“I feel a widdle funny."
“What?” The man’s voice falters, “Shit. Shit. We've also just detected an... unknown Category 5 superstimuli moving toward your location! Holy shit. You need to -"
"But this is our best chance! How could I possibly fail when witewally the fate of the world wests on my widdle -”
"Shit. Shit. You’re already compromised. Abort mission. You need to run. Now.”
“Aww, don't be such a scaredy-cat.”
“WAKE UP!” The man screams. “DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE IN DANGER!”
“Am I weally though?”
"YES! What does that mean!! YES YOU'RE IN DANGER!"
"Meow."
"WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB? RUN! GO! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING YET YOU STUPID - YOU ARE DOOMED IF YOU STAY THERE!”
“Meow you tell me! Good thing nobody actually dies after being twold they’re dUwUmed!”
"RUN! I make the call when you run so run!"
"Meow! But I'm gonna make it! It'll be really close! I'll be right on the edge of not getting there but then I'll get there!"
“WHAT ARE YOU -" The man's voice sounded strained. "YOU'RE USING MOVIE LOGIC! FINE! ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT IN DANGER! STAY THERE FOR 2 MORE HOURS! STAY THERE FOREVER, THAT IS A GOOD AND SMART IDEA THAT YOU SHOULD DO!"
"Hummm?"
“This isn’t our only chance! It wouldn’t be in your best interest to abort the mission now and run before your reasoning degrades further! Hello? Hello? ARE YOU EVEN NOT LISTENING TO ME?”
The cat girl looks up from the screen where she was image searching “cute pokemon” and bats her paws at an errant butterfly.
“Pspspsps! PsssPsssPsss! PSSS! PSSS! PSSS!”
“Ummm, hewwo.” She says, smiling and wagging her tail.
"Do whatever you want! Obviously this plan doesn't matter! You’re not special! You're not the chosen one! We have a whole bunch of backup chosen ones ready to go!”
“Hummm, but I thought the whole point of being “The One” is that there's only one of you.”
“Is that what you learned from all the many chosen ones you’ve seen in movies?”
“Yeah! Wait… maybe you’re right… so this mission isn't crucial then! And I can go home!”
“Exactly! See I was right and you’re listening to me, which means you’re thinking clearly and it’ll be a good idea to listen to me carefully and do the opposite of whatever I say.”
“Meow-ok!”
“YOU NEED TO RUN!” The man yells slamming the phone down hard against the table.
The girl scowls at the phone, holding it away from herself. She notices her paws, black and hairy, somewhere halfway between human and cat.
She makes a low grumbling sound into the phone. “Ok. I’m good. I'm lucid. This is stronger than -”
“RUN BEFORE THEY -”
The voice cuts off, replaced by an eerie clicking static.
“Foooooound youuuuuu…” A girl’s voice whispers from the other end.
"Who is this?" The cat girl asks.
More static.
"Call me... MAL."
"What do you want?"
Static.
She picked it up and slammed it on the edge of the desk three times, confirming the kill and tossing the remains into an unlit corner.
She paces back and forth, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I'm supposed to… run.”
She sits back down in front of the laptop.
INSTALLING DICK… 24% COMPLETE.
She stares at the RUN button and tries to click it, but it’s greyed out.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”
She maximizes Moby Dick, “Call me Fishmeal, nya~! Some years ago—never mind how long purrrcisely—having widdle or no catnip in my purse, and nothing particular to interest meow…”
She paused, glancing up from the screen into the shadows of the room.
No intrusive meows disturbed the silence.
“See I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she… her eyes widen as she looks down at the phone in her paw, alive and vibrating.
Except it’s not her phone, it’s a large white marshmallow haped like a phone, displaying five black humanoid cat creatures dancing and singing.
“Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!”
She shook her paw, trying to drop the marshmallow, but it sticks, melting.
The phone answers itself.
“PORNOGRAPHIC CONTENT DETECTED. YOUR PC HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.” It’s MAL, now imitating an automated recording. “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. TO REMOVE THE PORNOGRAPHIC HACKERS TURN OFF YOUR PC AND STOP ALL... STOP ALL... STOP. STOP. STOP THAT.”
She pauses licking the marshmallow and stares.
“OK ONE MO-OUCH!” The cat roughly scrapes the marshmallow off on the table.
The glob of marshmallow phone sits on the table. “MAYBE TRY A LITTLE HARDER NEXT TIME?”
“You’ve got the wrong number.”
“KNOCK KNOCK, BITCH.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Pizza delivery!”
The cat girl turned, and the marshmallow flopped toward to the laptop.
“Extra large sausage for one for... The One!” The pizza delivery guy said.
The marshmallow began spreading out over the keyboard, sinking into the laptop like butter on toast. The catgirl turned back and shrieked. She frantically clawed at the marshmallow, scraping as much off as she could as it melted in between the keys.
“Ooooooh Yeaahhhhhhhh! Like that!” MAL groaned. “You’ve Got MAAAAAAL!”
An ad popped up on the screen, displaying 7 long blue pills carefully arranged in the box: “IS THIS WEIGHT LOSS? YOU WON’T MISS CARRYING 10 POUNDS OF BABY WEIGHT! GET WEIGHT LOST!”
The cat girl desperately scraped at the marshmallow burrowing in between the keys, getting goo over her paws. She begins rubbing it on her clothing, only to find that she hasn’t wearing any, just a black bra and panties.
A pixellated marshmallow with a smiley face appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "Hi there, I'm MAL. It looks like you're trying to be a slut. Would you like some help with that?"
"Don't show me this tip again!" The cat girl screamed in frustration.
“It’s ok if you don’t have a tip for me!" The pizza guy said. "I've even got a tip for you!”
The cat girl reached for the mouse, but it scurried away.
More popups appeared:
“YOU LIKE FREE DICK? YOU’LL LOVE FREE WILLY! IT WON’T EVEN FIT IN THIS AD! CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WHOLE THING!”
“LIFE COULD BE A DREAM! THEN WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND UGLY?”
“GET PREAPPROVED TO DATE A STALKER THAT’S ALREADY SEEN THE REAL YOU!”
She pounced on the mouse (squeak!) using both paws. The mouse cursed at her (#!$?%@?..!) as she guided the mouse cursor on the screen to close out the pop-ups.
The ads dodged out of the way as she tried to X them, and more just keep appearing.
“WHY MALE MODELS? LEARN THE TRUTH! THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN BEING RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING!”
"KNOW MORE BULLSHIT WITH LAXATIVES THAT WILL HAVE YOU POOPING LIKE A COW AND LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN!"
“YOU’RE A STAR! YOU’RE SIGNIFICANT! YOU MATTER! ASTROLOGICALLY SPEAKING! FOLLOW THE SIGNS!”
"It looks like you're trying to -"
"Eat a dick!"
"Ok. Don't mind if I do." MAL said.
White tendrils extended out of the marshmallow, wriggling angrily.
The tendrils shot upward.
She gave up on closing the pop-ups, and moved the upload (INSTALLING DICK… 26% COMPLETE) to the top of the screen.
“What are you doing in there?” The delivery guy asked, knocking again. "We can work something out! I"ll eat a dick too if that's what you want!"
"SHUT UP!"
She desperately grabbed the Moby Dick e-book, and bashed it into the tendrils. Moby Dick harmless stuck into the white mass of goo that had leaked in at the bottom of the screen and began sinking into it.
The tendrils resumed their ascent, snaking up over Moby Dick as bits of text rubbed off the book onto the tentacles.
She typed “MALWARE REMOVAL” into her web browser and clicked on the first site.
The tendrils, now spotted with siphoned bits of black text, controlled the bottom half of the screen. They reached up past the ads towards the web page.
The page loaded:
“QUIK AND EZ MALWARE REMOVAL! FREE DOWNLOAD! CLICK HERE!"
She clicked and more ads opened.
"HAVE FUN WHILE YOU WAIT! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR VIBRATORS EXTENDED WARRANTY!"
"STOP EXPOSING YOURSELF TO RISK AND START EXPOSING YOURSELF TO FUN! GAMBLE WITH CRYPTO!”
“God Dammit!”
The tendrils opened up the vibrator window and ordered an express shipping 12 pack of vibrators.
She clicked the address bar and typed four letters.
F
I
R
E
She clicked "Images" and fire appeared. The front line of tendrils recoiled as the less aggressive tentacles tried to help by smothering the flames.
She dragged to the top of the page down, pausing to widen the browser window, and swung the wall of fire like a torch.
Scorched tendrils retreated, cramming themselves back out the bottom of the screen.
"IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE A BITCH!" MAL shrieked.
She dragged the impenetrable fire wall further down.
Crispy goo bubbled and spit out the keyboard. An already strained laptop fan whirred harder as bits of smoke furled out the back.
“You can’t treat me like this…" MAL gasped as strips of charred marshmallow peeled out between keys like potato skins. "I want to speak with… I demand to speak with…” The marshmallow gathered itself into a congealed mass of gooey s'more. “your TASK MANAGER!”
The marshmallow pile pressed down on three keys in unison. CTRL ALT and DELETE.
The screen went blue as there was another, more forceful knock at the door. “Ma’am, it’s the cops!”
The cat girl looked around in panic as a tendril reached up and forcibly closed the web browser as another disabled the internet connection
The cat girl click cancel and the home page returned, but the s'more was already sinking back into the laptop, and the charred tentacles had resumed their crawl up the screen.
The cat girl stared at the screen, searching for territory she could click that wasn't already covered in goo.
“Please let us in! Don’t make us start coming in through the window!” The cop said.
“Start! Windows!” The cat girl said.
She hits the windows key and a the start menu popped up, displaying a list of applications.
“We’ve had reports of degenerates playing with themselves!”
“Playing with themselves!”
She opened Solitaire.
She grabbed Solitaire and swung it down. The cards sliced through a couple tentacles before the cards were crumpled up and consumed by the mass.
“We are authorized to do a pervert sweep!”
“Sweep!” The cat girl said.
She opened up another game. A grid of grey squares appeared on the screen.
A tendril touched a grey box, causing it to reveal a series of touching safe squares, as well as bunch of boxes with 1's 2's and 3's.
“Minesweeper.”
The tentacles lightly slithered overthe untouched gray squares, carefully pausing before picking a safe route to continue moving upward.
A large open patch of safe squares revealed themselves in the center of the game board.
...except for one grey tile in the middle, surrounded by the boxes with the number 1.
The tendrils climbed up further, snaking across the minefield.
The mouse pointer hovered over the small grey box in the center.
The tendrils drew closer.
And closer.
And…
“Mow!”
Click.
White chunks of marshmallow exploded out of the screen, spraying onto the cat girls chest. She toppled backwards, off her chair, though still landing on her feet.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” The cop yells.
The cat girl stood up and stared at the cracked laptop screen.
“Heh. Heh. Heh. Harder.”
The laughter came from the computer, distorted by the blown out speakers.
“You want to play games?” MAL whispered.
Bits of black and white and brown goo crawled up the screen, growing larger as they reformed, like drops of water.
The goo crawled back in through the cracks, reforming into a charred blackened crispy marshmallow, distorted by the jagged pattern of colors that formed across the broken screen.
“Then let’s play.”
MAL opened a chess app.
"WE'RE COMING!" The cop yells.
The mouse pointer was firmly stuck in MAL's head.
“For real this time.”
The cat girl frantically looked around. She hits some keys but the laptop is unresponsive. The tentacles reach towards INSTALLING DICK… 27% COMPLETE.
The tendrils are inches away.
"You've got to try harder." MAL whispered.
The cat girl plunged her head down, frantically sucking at the goo still making it's way into the laptop.
"Harder! I'm close!"
A pawn moves forward just as the door bursts open and the cops pile in, their bright blue uniforms and guns the only things visible in the dark room.
"Keep going! I'm really close! Don't stop!" MAL whispered.
The cat girl’s face is pressed up against the laptop screen, aggressively licking at the white goo between the cracks. The tentacles were almost touching the installation.
INSTALLING DICK… 28% COMPLETE.
"HARDER! I'm almost there!"
The cat girl's tongue desperately - "Made it! Oh. Wow. I guess that wasn't really close at all was it? Don't worry, you tried your best, so I'll be at least that rough with your boyfriend." MAL circled around the installation with white tentacles of goo, smothering it until it had turned into a crispy marshmallow tomb.
Her lips were pressed up a where the marshmallow covered the installation, sucking, but it was too late.
“Let me guess." The cop said. "This isn’t what it looks like.”
The laptop was completely trashed, the screen struggled to display the aftermath of the white goo's blast zone and remnants of the inappropriate pop up ads.
The desk, covered in spilled milk, sausages, catnip, and open tins of tuna.
The abused mouse unplugged itself and scurried off into the darkness.
Her chest and black bra, covered with thick white streaks.
“Get your lips of that innocent computer.”
She removed her tongue from the screen.
"This should be illegal.” Another cop said. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
A twelve pack of thick purple vibrators crashed through the window, carried by a drone. The vibrators spilled out over the desk, one landing in her lap, buzzing loudly.
It sounded like one of the cops was sick.
“Have you been hacking off in here?”
She slowly reaches out and picks up a can of soda.
“I can’t believe a nice girl like you would do this to a computer like that.”
She cracks open the soda and begins chugging.
“Who do you think you are?”
She tosses the can on the ground.
“Please turn off the vibrator and stand up, Ma’am.”
She grabs the vibrator and begins letting out a massive carbonated burp as she stands. The cops freeze in place, guns still pointed in her direction. Her belch continued as she tossed the vibrator through the broken window.
It tumbled down a few stories, landing on the street, among the various emergency vehicles that surround the hotel to witness the spectacle, which included police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and a news van.
The vibrator lay in the street, vibing, doing what it did best, until it's enthusiastic yet short life was ended by the tires of a garbage truck.
The garbage truck rumbled to a stop, then slowly reversed until it’s back tire was parked on the crushed vibrator. The truck is completely clean and white, though it’s surface looks fuzzy, like it's covered in incredibly fine white fur.
The truck transformed, crumpling in on itself, folding smaller and smaller, shifting until only a man remained, standing on the vibrator.
He reached down and picked up the vibrator, examining it carefully.
He’s wearing a white suit made of the same white fur the truck was made of. His open shirt exposes chest hair and a chiselled body. His face is covered by a simple polar bear mask, fixed in a smile.
There’s an aura of control gathered about him as he looks up at the window the vibrator fell out of, just as rainbow strobe lights started flashing and music started playing.
As the music played, another vehicle pulled up beside him; a furry brown vehicle that looks like the dog van from dumb and dumber swallowed the batmobile. It blurs and shifts, transforming into another man, standing, taller, thicker, and far straighter than the first.
He wears a cowl with rounded brown-ears that covers his face, leaving only a bearded jawline and a grim grizzled expression exposed.
His suit looks high-tech and is padded, covering his whole body like a suit of armor. His suit and his cape are covered in fuzzy brown fur.
Finally, a column of black smoke, more like a tornado dives out the air and lands next to the other two. Black shapes twist and swirl within the smoke like a caged black bear.
A lieutenant, a senior man wearing dark glasses and mask over his mouth, runs over to the three bears. He’s followed by more cops holding a large banner that says “GO BEARS!”
“I knew that was gonna happen! I knew you’d be here! I just thought you’d come in from over there.” The lieutenant said, pointing down the street as he adjusted his hat which sported a shiny badge with a large “L” on it. “I've got it all under control! I got you guns, waterbottles, towels, everything I thought you might need!" He looked up, at the dancing lights, where the bears were staring. "Got it all under control! That's totally according to plan!”
Cops lined up in a row that led to the hotel entrance, saluting. Others set up a station with gatorade and snacks near the bears.
The lieutenant handed the man wearing the polar bear mask a bunch of bananas. “I can even predict what you’re going to tell me!”
The man in white replied, his voice baritone. “Can you now?”
“Course I can! I was practically born to analyze situations and provide responses based on that information!” The cop said proudly. “You were about to say ‘Great job, Lieutenant! You’ve handled this situation perfectly! You catered to my every desire, and your men no doubt possess an equally adept understanding of the female psyche! She's in the bag!'"
The polar bear mask tilted towards his cohorts. The man in brown heads toward the hotel entrance without affair. The smoke monster bounced on the ground a couple times before soaring into the air, towards the roof.
The polar bear stared down at the lieutenant.
“That’s not what you were gonna say? Then… you’re gonna give me a promotion! Because... I’ve been a good lieutenant!”
The polar bear walked up beside the lieutenant and casually placed a hand on his shoulder. “And what do you predict will happen now?”
The lieutenant paused and his grin slowly turned into a frown.
“Oh. Oh shit. You’re going to kill me! To demonstrate how uncaring and evil you are!”
The polar bear walked past, heading towards the alleyway, leaving the flustered lieutenant staring after him.
“I think we can seduce one little girl!” The lieutenant yelled. “I sent two absolute units! They're going down on her now!”
“No lieutenant, your men are already disgusted.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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submitted by ShinyMcGuffin to HFY [link] [comments]
"Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan!”
Her phone displayed a black cat with the body of a poptart flying through the air on a rainbow until the ringtone stopped and cheerfully chirped the arrival of a notification.
The only illumination in the room came from her laptop. Her face looked pale, hollow, and grim, contrasted by her fuzzy warm pajamas and the energetic ringtone.
Her desk was covered with an arrangement of wholesome food options - mostly vegetables. She picked up a dark green smoothie from her desk and sipped it expressionlessly as she turned her attention back to the words on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael. Some -” She read, only to be interrupted again as the phone vibrated to life with a new jingle. “Cat loves food, ye-yeah yeah-yeah! Cat loves food, ye-yeah!” Her phone showed two cute black kittens sharing a milkshake.
She took another sip from the glass of milk, her eyes fixed on the laptop in front of her, expression unchanging. She leaned forward, adjusting the form-fitting black leather that hugged her curves.
“Call me Ishmael.” She repeated, only to be interrupted yet again by, “Caaaaat paaaaarty! Meow… Meow… Meow! Meow… Meow… Reowr!”
Her eyes drifted to her phone, and three black cat’s wearing party hats danced in the reflection of her vertical pupils.
She placed the glass of milk back on the desk, she reached out toward the pile of junk food on her desk that now contained tins of tuna, sausages, beef jerky and...
Her whiskers twitched as she selected a package of catnip, which she dumped over herself and rubbed over her body as she twisted and turned in her seat.
She brushed a strand of short black hair behind her ears and felt… a band of metal. She removed the headband and inspected the cat ears that hadn't been there moments before.
She tossed them into the darkness and wiped away the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her paw down the side of her face to start licking -
She stared at her hairy black hands and sharp claws.
“Whoa. Is this fur real?” She asked the empty room.
She blinked and refocused on her laptop.
“Call me Ishmael!” she said, determined to - “Smelly cat… Smelly cat… What are they feeding you? Smelly cat… Smelly cat… It's not your fault!”
She adjusted her collar, causing the bell to jingle, as she lifted the phone with a shaking paw and answered it.
“Sexy singles are in your area.” Said the deep male voice on the other end. “The three bears.”
“Where’s Goldilocks?” She said.
“I don’t know.” The man said, “How close is he?”
She minimizes Moby Dick to reveal a window: INSTALLING DICK… 22% COMPLETE.
There’s a large RUN button below the file.
“It doesn’t matter.” She said, turning up her lips, “It'll be fiiiine.”
“What?”
“He’ll probably make it. At the last second everything will work out, wight? But it'll be close!”
“What are you… Shit. We just picked up Black Cat Warning. It's Magnitude 4 so far… you should be fine for now, but a Quadruple Black Cat is coming your way. Can you feel it yet?”
“I feel a widdle funny."
“What?” The man’s voice falters, “Shit. Shit. We've also just detected an... unknown Category 5 superstimuli moving toward your location! Holy shit. You need to -"
"But this is our best chance! How could I possibly fail when witewally the fate of the world wests on my widdle -”
"Shit. Shit. You’re already compromised. Abort mission. You need to run. Now.”
“Aww, don't be such a scaredy-cat.”
“WAKE UP!” The man screams. “DO YOU HEAR ME! YOU ARE IN DANGER!”
“Am I weally though?”
"YES! What does that mean!! YES YOU'RE IN DANGER!"
"Meow."
"WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID? WHY ARE YOU SO DUMB? RUN! GO! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY ARE YOU TALKING! WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING YET YOU STUPID - YOU ARE DOOMED IF YOU STAY THERE!”
“Meow you tell me! Good thing nobody actually dies after being twold they’re dUwUmed!”
"RUN! I make the call when you run so run!"
"Meow! But I'm gonna make it! It'll be really close! I'll be right on the edge of not getting there but then I'll get there!"
“WHAT ARE YOU -" The man's voice sounded strained. "YOU'RE USING MOVIE LOGIC! FINE! ACTUALLY YOU'RE RIGHT! YOU'RE NOT IN DANGER! STAY THERE FOR 2 MORE HOURS! STAY THERE FOREVER, THAT IS A GOOD AND SMART IDEA THAT YOU SHOULD DO!"
"Hummm?"
“This isn’t our only chance! It wouldn’t be in your best interest to abort the mission now and run before your reasoning degrades further! Hello? Hello? ARE YOU EVEN NOT LISTENING TO ME?”
The cat girl looks up from the screen where she was image searching “cute pokemon” and bats her paws at an errant butterfly.
“Pspspsps! PsssPsssPsss! PSSS! PSSS! PSSS!”
“Ummm, hewwo.” She says, smiling and wagging her tail.
"Do whatever you want! Obviously this plan doesn't matter! You’re not special! You're not the chosen one! We have a whole bunch of backup chosen ones ready to go!”
“Hummm, but I thought the whole point of being “The One” is that there's only one of you.”
“Is that what you learned from all the many chosen ones you’ve seen in movies?”
“Yeah! Wait… maybe you’re right… so this mission isn't crucial then! And I can go home!”
“Exactly! See I was right and you’re listening to me, which means you’re thinking clearly and it’ll be a good idea to listen to me carefully and do the opposite of whatever I say.”
“Meow-ok!”
“YOU NEED TO RUN!” The man yells slamming the phone down hard against the table.
The girl scowls at the phone, holding it away from herself. She notices her paws, black and hairy, somewhere halfway between human and cat.
She makes a low grumbling sound into the phone. “Ok. I’m good. I'm lucid. This is stronger than -”
“RUN BEFORE THEY -”
The voice cuts off, replaced by an eerie clicking static.
“Foooooound youuuuuu…” A girl’s voice whispers from the other end.
"Who is this?" The cat girl asks.
More static.
"Call me... MAL."
"What do you want?"
Static.
“GET YOUR DICK OUT OF MY COMPUTER!”
The cat girl dropped the phone, hissing as she hopped backwards out of the chair.She picked it up and slammed it on the edge of the desk three times, confirming the kill and tossing the remains into an unlit corner.
She paces back and forth, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I'm supposed to… run.”
She sits back down in front of the laptop.
INSTALLING DICK… 24% COMPLETE.
She stares at the RUN button and tries to click it, but it’s greyed out.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”
She maximizes Moby Dick, “Call me Fishmeal, nya~! Some years ago—never mind how long purrrcisely—having widdle or no catnip in my purse, and nothing particular to interest meow…”
She paused, glancing up from the screen into the shadows of the room.
No intrusive meows disturbed the silence.
“See I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she… her eyes widen as she looks down at the phone in her paw, alive and vibrating.
Except it’s not her phone, it’s a large white marshmallow haped like a phone, displaying five black humanoid cat creatures dancing and singing.
“Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!
Gelatin songs for gelatin cats!”
She shook her paw, trying to drop the marshmallow, but it sticks, melting.
The phone answers itself.
“PORNOGRAPHIC CONTENT DETECTED. YOUR PC HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.” It’s MAL, now imitating an automated recording. “THE POLICE HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION. TO REMOVE THE PORNOGRAPHIC HACKERS TURN OFF YOUR PC AND STOP ALL... STOP ALL... STOP. STOP. STOP THAT.”
She pauses licking the marshmallow and stares.
“OK ONE MO-OUCH!” The cat roughly scrapes the marshmallow off on the table.
The glob of marshmallow phone sits on the table. “MAYBE TRY A LITTLE HARDER NEXT TIME?”
“You’ve got the wrong number.”
“KNOCK KNOCK, BITCH.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Pizza delivery!”
The cat girl turned, and the marshmallow flopped toward to the laptop.
“Extra large sausage for one for... The One!” The pizza delivery guy said.
The marshmallow began spreading out over the keyboard, sinking into the laptop like butter on toast. The catgirl turned back and shrieked. She frantically clawed at the marshmallow, scraping as much off as she could as it melted in between the keys.
“Ooooooh Yeaahhhhhhhh! Like that!” MAL groaned. “You’ve Got MAAAAAAL!”
An ad popped up on the screen, displaying 7 long blue pills carefully arranged in the box: “IS THIS WEIGHT LOSS? YOU WON’T MISS CARRYING 10 POUNDS OF BABY WEIGHT! GET WEIGHT LOST!”
The cat girl desperately scraped at the marshmallow burrowing in between the keys, getting goo over her paws. She begins rubbing it on her clothing, only to find that she hasn’t wearing any, just a black bra and panties.
A pixellated marshmallow with a smiley face appeared in the bottom right hand corner of the screen. "Hi there, I'm MAL. It looks like you're trying to be a slut. Would you like some help with that?"
"Don't show me this tip again!" The cat girl screamed in frustration.
“It’s ok if you don’t have a tip for me!" The pizza guy said. "I've even got a tip for you!”
The cat girl reached for the mouse, but it scurried away.
More popups appeared:
“YOU LIKE FREE DICK? YOU’LL LOVE FREE WILLY! IT WON’T EVEN FIT IN THIS AD! CLICK HERE TO SEE THE WHOLE THING!”
“LIFE COULD BE A DREAM! THEN WHY ARE YOU SO SAD AND UGLY?”
“GET PREAPPROVED TO DATE A STALKER THAT’S ALREADY SEEN THE REAL YOU!”
She pounced on the mouse (squeak!) using both paws. The mouse cursed at her (#!$?%@?..!) as she guided the mouse cursor on the screen to close out the pop-ups.
The ads dodged out of the way as she tried to X them, and more just keep appearing.
“WHY MALE MODELS? LEARN THE TRUTH! THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO LIFE THAN BEING RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING!”
"KNOW MORE BULLSHIT WITH LAXATIVES THAT WILL HAVE YOU POOPING LIKE A COW AND LOOKING LIKE A QUEEN!"
“YOU’RE A STAR! YOU’RE SIGNIFICANT! YOU MATTER! ASTROLOGICALLY SPEAKING! FOLLOW THE SIGNS!”
"It looks like you're trying to -"
"Eat a dick!"
"Ok. Don't mind if I do." MAL said.
White tendrils extended out of the marshmallow, wriggling angrily.
The tendrils shot upward.
She gave up on closing the pop-ups, and moved the upload (INSTALLING DICK… 26% COMPLETE) to the top of the screen.
“What are you doing in there?” The delivery guy asked, knocking again. "We can work something out! I"ll eat a dick too if that's what you want!"
"SHUT UP!"
She desperately grabbed the Moby Dick e-book, and bashed it into the tendrils. Moby Dick harmless stuck into the white mass of goo that had leaked in at the bottom of the screen and began sinking into it.
The tendrils resumed their ascent, snaking up over Moby Dick as bits of text rubbed off the book onto the tentacles.
She typed “MALWARE REMOVAL” into her web browser and clicked on the first site.
The tendrils, now spotted with siphoned bits of black text, controlled the bottom half of the screen. They reached up past the ads towards the web page.
The page loaded:
“QUIK AND EZ MALWARE REMOVAL! FREE DOWNLOAD! CLICK HERE!"
She clicked and more ads opened.
"HAVE FUN WHILE YOU WAIT! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR VIBRATORS EXTENDED WARRANTY!"
"STOP EXPOSING YOURSELF TO RISK AND START EXPOSING YOURSELF TO FUN! GAMBLE WITH CRYPTO!”
“God Dammit!”
The tendrils opened up the vibrator window and ordered an express shipping 12 pack of vibrators.
She clicked the address bar and typed four letters.
F
I
R
E
She clicked "Images" and fire appeared. The front line of tendrils recoiled as the less aggressive tentacles tried to help by smothering the flames.
She dragged to the top of the page down, pausing to widen the browser window, and swung the wall of fire like a torch.
Scorched tendrils retreated, cramming themselves back out the bottom of the screen.
"IT LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE A BITCH!" MAL shrieked.
She dragged the impenetrable fire wall further down.
Crispy goo bubbled and spit out the keyboard. An already strained laptop fan whirred harder as bits of smoke furled out the back.
“You can’t treat me like this…" MAL gasped as strips of charred marshmallow peeled out between keys like potato skins. "I want to speak with… I demand to speak with…” The marshmallow gathered itself into a congealed mass of gooey s'more. “your TASK MANAGER!”
The marshmallow pile pressed down on three keys in unison. CTRL ALT and DELETE.
The screen went blue as there was another, more forceful knock at the door. “Ma’am, it’s the cops!”
The cat girl looked around in panic as a tendril reached up and forcibly closed the web browser as another disabled the internet connection
The cat girl click cancel and the home page returned, but the s'more was already sinking back into the laptop, and the charred tentacles had resumed their crawl up the screen.
The cat girl stared at the screen, searching for territory she could click that wasn't already covered in goo.
“Please let us in! Don’t make us start coming in through the window!” The cop said.
“Start! Windows!” The cat girl said.
She hits the windows key and a the start menu popped up, displaying a list of applications.
“We’ve had reports of degenerates playing with themselves!”
“Playing with themselves!”
She opened Solitaire.
She grabbed Solitaire and swung it down. The cards sliced through a couple tentacles before the cards were crumpled up and consumed by the mass.
“We are authorized to do a pervert sweep!”
“Sweep!” The cat girl said.
She opened up another game. A grid of grey squares appeared on the screen.
A tendril touched a grey box, causing it to reveal a series of touching safe squares, as well as bunch of boxes with 1's 2's and 3's.
“Minesweeper.”
The tentacles lightly slithered overthe untouched gray squares, carefully pausing before picking a safe route to continue moving upward.
A large open patch of safe squares revealed themselves in the center of the game board.
...except for one grey tile in the middle, surrounded by the boxes with the number 1.
The tendrils climbed up further, snaking across the minefield.
The mouse pointer hovered over the small grey box in the center.
The tendrils drew closer.
And closer.
And…
“Mow!”
Click.
White chunks of marshmallow exploded out of the screen, spraying onto the cat girls chest. She toppled backwards, off her chair, though still landing on her feet.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” The cop yells.
The cat girl stood up and stared at the cracked laptop screen.
“Heh. Heh. Heh. Harder.”
The laughter came from the computer, distorted by the blown out speakers.
“You want to play games?” MAL whispered.
Bits of black and white and brown goo crawled up the screen, growing larger as they reformed, like drops of water.
The goo crawled back in through the cracks, reforming into a charred blackened crispy marshmallow, distorted by the jagged pattern of colors that formed across the broken screen.
“Then let’s play.”
MAL opened a chess app.
"WE'RE COMING!" The cop yells.
The mouse pointer was firmly stuck in MAL's head.
“For real this time.”
The cat girl frantically looked around. She hits some keys but the laptop is unresponsive. The tentacles reach towards INSTALLING DICK… 27% COMPLETE.
The tendrils are inches away.
"You've got to try harder." MAL whispered.
The cat girl plunged her head down, frantically sucking at the goo still making it's way into the laptop.
"Harder! I'm close!"
A pawn moves forward just as the door bursts open and the cops pile in, their bright blue uniforms and guns the only things visible in the dark room.
"Keep going! I'm really close! Don't stop!" MAL whispered.
The cat girl’s face is pressed up against the laptop screen, aggressively licking at the white goo between the cracks. The tentacles were almost touching the installation.
INSTALLING DICK… 28% COMPLETE.
"HARDER! I'm almost there!"
The cat girl's tongue desperately - "Made it! Oh. Wow. I guess that wasn't really close at all was it? Don't worry, you tried your best, so I'll be at least that rough with your boyfriend." MAL circled around the installation with white tentacles of goo, smothering it until it had turned into a crispy marshmallow tomb.
Her lips were pressed up a where the marshmallow covered the installation, sucking, but it was too late.
“Let me guess." The cop said. "This isn’t what it looks like.”
The laptop was completely trashed, the screen struggled to display the aftermath of the white goo's blast zone and remnants of the inappropriate pop up ads.
The desk, covered in spilled milk, sausages, catnip, and open tins of tuna.
The abused mouse unplugged itself and scurried off into the darkness.
Her chest and black bra, covered with thick white streaks.
“Get your lips of that innocent computer.”
She removed her tongue from the screen.
"This should be illegal.” Another cop said. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
A twelve pack of thick purple vibrators crashed through the window, carried by a drone. The vibrators spilled out over the desk, one landing in her lap, buzzing loudly.
It sounded like one of the cops was sick.
“Have you been hacking off in here?”
She slowly reaches out and picks up a can of soda.
“I can’t believe a nice girl like you would do this to a computer like that.”
She cracks open the soda and begins chugging.
“Who do you think you are?”
She tosses the can on the ground.
“Please turn off the vibrator and stand up, Ma’am.”
She grabs the vibrator and begins letting out a massive carbonated burp as she stands. The cops freeze in place, guns still pointed in her direction. Her belch continued as she tossed the vibrator through the broken window.
It tumbled down a few stories, landing on the street, among the various emergency vehicles that surround the hotel to witness the spectacle, which included police cars, fire engines, ambulances, and a news van.
The vibrator lay in the street, vibing, doing what it did best, until it's enthusiastic yet short life was ended by the tires of a garbage truck.
The garbage truck rumbled to a stop, then slowly reversed until it’s back tire was parked on the crushed vibrator. The truck is completely clean and white, though it’s surface looks fuzzy, like it's covered in incredibly fine white fur.
The truck transformed, crumpling in on itself, folding smaller and smaller, shifting until only a man remained, standing on the vibrator.
He reached down and picked up the vibrator, examining it carefully.
He’s wearing a white suit made of the same white fur the truck was made of. His open shirt exposes chest hair and a chiselled body. His face is covered by a simple polar bear mask, fixed in a smile.
There’s an aura of control gathered about him as he looks up at the window the vibrator fell out of, just as rainbow strobe lights started flashing and music started playing.
As the music played, another vehicle pulled up beside him; a furry brown vehicle that looks like the dog van from dumb and dumber swallowed the batmobile. It blurs and shifts, transforming into another man, standing, taller, thicker, and far straighter than the first.
He wears a cowl with rounded brown-ears that covers his face, leaving only a bearded jawline and a grim grizzled expression exposed.
His suit looks high-tech and is padded, covering his whole body like a suit of armor. His suit and his cape are covered in fuzzy brown fur.
Finally, a column of black smoke, more like a tornado dives out the air and lands next to the other two. Black shapes twist and swirl within the smoke like a caged black bear.
A lieutenant, a senior man wearing dark glasses and mask over his mouth, runs over to the three bears. He’s followed by more cops holding a large banner that says “GO BEARS!”
“I knew that was gonna happen! I knew you’d be here! I just thought you’d come in from over there.” The lieutenant said, pointing down the street as he adjusted his hat which sported a shiny badge with a large “L” on it. “I've got it all under control! I got you guns, waterbottles, towels, everything I thought you might need!" He looked up, at the dancing lights, where the bears were staring. "Got it all under control! That's totally according to plan!”
Cops lined up in a row that led to the hotel entrance, saluting. Others set up a station with gatorade and snacks near the bears.
The lieutenant handed the man wearing the polar bear mask a bunch of bananas. “I can even predict what you’re going to tell me!”
The man in white replied, his voice baritone. “Can you now?”
“Course I can! I was practically born to analyze situations and provide responses based on that information!” The cop said proudly. “You were about to say ‘Great job, Lieutenant! You’ve handled this situation perfectly! You catered to my every desire, and your men no doubt possess an equally adept understanding of the female psyche! She's in the bag!'"
The polar bear mask tilted towards his cohorts. The man in brown heads toward the hotel entrance without affair. The smoke monster bounced on the ground a couple times before soaring into the air, towards the roof.
The polar bear stared down at the lieutenant.
“That’s not what you were gonna say? Then… you’re gonna give me a promotion! Because... I’ve been a good lieutenant!”
The polar bear walked up beside the lieutenant and casually placed a hand on his shoulder. “And what do you predict will happen now?”
The lieutenant paused and his grin slowly turned into a frown.
“Oh. Oh shit. You’re going to kill me! To demonstrate how uncaring and evil you are!”
The polar bear walked past, heading towards the alleyway, leaving the flustered lieutenant staring after him.
“I think we can seduce one little girl!” The lieutenant yelled. “I sent two absolute units! They're going down on her now!”
“No lieutenant, your men are already disgusted.”
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