Oh boy, it was one of those guys. The laugh in your face types. The not take shit seriously types. And a Lykaian, to boot, which - from her experience - was kinda rare. Most of the ones she'd ran into seemed like they perpetually had a stick up their ass, but this one seemed to like jokes, and wanted to turn her into the punchline.
Shit like that pissed her off.
"Yeah, numbskull?" Isre spat.
She hopped off the table, walking slowly towards him, bouncing the cup from hand to hand. It was a miracle her voice wasn't shaking - between the fear and the anger, her body certainly was, though it was barely noticeable as she swayed up to square off with the intruder. Setting her shoulders and tilting her head back, she stopped a foot away.
In her head, she looked like a badass. She really fucking hoped she looked like a badass. Fucker didn't want to take her seriously, fucker thought she was funny. Let her get close.
She'd show him funny.
"Call me a problem."
Isre flung the mug at his face - and jumped forward in the same beat, trying to drive her knee up into the wolf-man's crotch.
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
Sun heard the intruder's call to surrender, but she knew enough to know that was a bad idea. Better just to stay where they were, stay quiet, and-
'Hey, shithead!'
...and apparently Isre didn't get the memo on that one. Sun made herself relax, cycling through a series of calming breaths. Jumping out from under the table wasn't going to help anyone. Isre hadn't gotten shot immediately, which was actually what Sun had expected to happen. From here on out...
The best thing she could do was stay safe and quiet and clean up the aftermath, whatever that happened to be.
Thankfully, Voraan's rig stank of acrid disinfectant and vinegar from the sporicide, as opposed to waste; the change in scent might've been why he hadn't been immediately shot at by the first person who saw him on the ship. Evidently, it was someone who'd just taken a shower as well. Not the same as Voraan's, it seemed, as the pair seemed to find themselves in the bath area. Fucker had metal limbs, too-- must have been a bitch to dry off and keep from rusting. The marauder glanced over the pirate's 'ware for a moment, ready to draw-- until he was mistaken for a new recruit, and the tension eased in his arm. With his breathing still labored in the helmet, Voraan attempted to regain his bearings and stepped towards the guy, nodding once and moving through the doorway as he spoke.
"Ahuh. From Ballast. I'm, uh..."
The marauder gestured indistinctly, trying to reach for any sort of excuse or cover, but the attempt fell utterly short. After another moment of breathless floundering, Kell gave a sigh and looked back to the pirate, shaking his head.
"... yeah, no, I'm not doing this."
With a flick of the plasma cutter upon his hip, the air was bathed alight in a swirling mix of azure and orange. Voraan drove the blade forward with a quick step, using his weight to force himself-- and the cutter-- into the man and against the wall, right into the lower gut. Nothing dangerous enough to kill. Not yet. There was information to gather, first, before the man meant nothing to the Freebooter.
"Who's still on the fuckin' ship." The words scraped at the inside of the pirate's ear with their gravelly modulation, less a question and more a cold-hearted demand. He was tired in ways only a spacefarer could be, and the fatigue of being launched into space and nearly dying had thoroughly drained his already-neutered capacity for empathy. Voraan needed to work quick, and he needed to work efficiently. Mercy was not on his plans today. "Tell me, and I might cut off something you can live without."
Handing an armed weapon to a civilian was never the orthodox or protocol. Even as he ventured down the hallway and moving away from the pair, the few last remarks entered his auditory systems before he focused on the sounds and movements ahead. There was nothing orthodox or protocol about these pirates boarding a crappy cruiser with no defenses and only one capable pilot who needed all the protection she can get. His ears began picking up noise ahead. Through the noise and echoes of gunshots erupting the cargo bay, either the silent hiss of plasma super-heating and cutting through air or actual slugs being thrown around like candy, there were voices. One deeper and more guttural. Almost animalistic yet composed. He never heard that voice before. Pirate.
The other . . . The other belonged to that synthharp girl, didn't it?
Additional movement besides his own sent a jolt of data streamlining into his brain as his ocular implants rebooted as he peered through the smoke. His gaze rapidly pierced through the synthetic fog, assessing surroundings that were rapidly changing around him. Several programs were coming online at once as his gaze began traveling left and right through the smoke. Someone huge was coming his way, and it was not a friendly. The smoke parting in front of him forced John to take a step back with the sound of machinery and hydraulics entered his ears. Older tech? An older model? Johnathan's thoughts quickly shifted as he looked up at the giant of a cyborg. Perfect. The robocop had to get someone with their own fair share of cybernetics.
John's eyes narrowed at the man. The drawl. He heard that before, that accent somewhere, but it was not important. Targeting and combat systems began to boot up much earlier than planned, finding himself face to face with his first real opponent.
</OPTICAL DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. OCULAR IMPANTS ARE OPTIMAL.>
The steel haymaker moved not as a blur in his vision, but as an obstacle. John saw it coming a mile away. The tight space did nothing but work in the detective's favor, especially in such close quarters.
Johnathan's entire torso ducked as his knees immediately bent themselves before aiming the stun gun at the upper man's torso. In his peripheral vision, Johnathan caught the edge of the fist soar over his head before firing his shot. A small electric dart jettisoned from the barrel towards the man's chest. An electrical current would run across the man's body. If the charge did not knock the man out or send him spasming to the ground, there would be the hope it would at least stun the man long enough for John to move in close.
A few steps forward, with purpose, before Johnathan sought to follow up the stun in close-quarters as his targeting and combat systems began to go through the paces, warming up and ready to go. The armored plating on his mechanical arms shifted and expanded away before a pair of nanoblades, one on each arm, revealed themselves. Adjusting his footing with one foot behind the other before twisting his torso, Johnathan threw his gun-wielding fist forward to punch the man's torso with a nanoblade--right in the stomach--before delivering an uppercut with the other nanoblade, intent to the drive the second blade through the man's chin and into his brainpan.
John gritted his teeth, "Here's your chrome."
Last Edit: Apr 1, 2023 22:18:46 GMT by Paperbag Fill
"Oh, this?" Grim backed up a few paces, gesturing to his hat, "D'ya like it? Got it from a market on Espirit-09, of all places. Covers my bald spot."
Shots rang out next to him, coming from the stranger in the cargo bay. She wasn't with him, she said. That was a shame—she looked like she could hold her own—but Grim supposed he only had himself to blame, given the fact that he had made absolutely no move to help her. He gave her a thumbs up, which she likely ignored. Then, his hand moved towards his hip.
"Easy, now." He said, "D'ya know what you're pointing that thing at?"
The sound of cracking stone sounded through the cargo hold, followed by the slamming of Gypsum's head against gravity plate. Foster was down, bleeding inside his vac-suit - and now Gypsum, the snatch-and-grab was going off fucking wonderfully. Callum knew they'd fucked up. They'd flown in with their dicks out, expecting a bunch of dumbass gamblers and hobos - when it seemed they'd actually rolled up on the premier cab service for crazy fucking weirdos.
But now the woman was - what the fuck did she say? Was she hitting on him? He'd just been shooting at her and her friends. Still, he couldn't resist exotic ladies with guns. "Yeah sure thing, babe." Callum winked - or blinked maybe it was hard to tell. He'd deal with her in a moment, if she didn't shoot him in the back first.
"Why don't you climb aboard too? Make yourself at home in my cabin, pop upon some wine and throw on my sex playlist while you're at it?" Was he a pig or just fucking around out of frustration? It was hard to tell. Planting his blade back in it's sheath, he took her hand.
The hat-guy didn't flinch, didn't even seem to care he had a gun trained on him. Who was he? What was his deal? He watched as Grim's hand moved for his hip, and cocked his pistol as he did. No unnecessary death, we need the bodies warm. "No, I don't. How's about you enlighten me?"
~ ~ ~
Lukan's brow cocked and he grinned at the little Silwin as she swaggered up his way, bouncing the cup back and forth in her hands. As she got close, he leaned forwards over her, he couldn't help but be dramatic. "A problem, hmm? Well, lucky for you I fuckin' love prob-" Ouch.
The mug broke against his face, leaving bits of ceramic in his fur and eye. He pressed a hand against his eye and growled in pain. "Fucking hell!" Blood leaked between his fingers and left his fur matted and crimson. With his eyes shut, his stance loosened - leaving his open for her next order of buisness.
Her knee made soft contact first - then hard as she connected with the pelvis bone. Lukan nearly yelped like a pup. Mental note - annoying problem, not sexy problem. "Wow, you're a real lil' supernova aren't you?" The Lykaian shot out a hand to grasp her throat, if he'd caught her, he'd lift her to be face to face with him.
"Now, I let you take the first shot - that was me being nice." His tone was somewhere between amusement and threatening. "Are you gonna come quiet? Or are we gonna get to have some more fun?"
~ ~ ~
The shock of the blade did most of the work. The mechanic would've fallen over completely if Voraan hadn't pushed him back against the wall. He would've screamed out, but the impact and shock kept his throat tight. His mechanical hand grasped for Voraan's, hoping to keep it from slipping any further into him.
"A-a-a few more, I think..." he was shaking horribly, he would've told Voraan about the first time he stole his dad's smokes if he'd asked. "Captain, a couple of her lieutenants I think, heads of the different departments... m-maybe another boarding party?" He stared down at the blade and his eyes went wide. "You're from the t-tug aren't you? How the fuck did you get here? Siobhan's gonna freak the fuck out."
~ ~ ~
Sygan grinned at the smaller man's dodge and subsequent pitiful attempts at a counter attack. He'd seen better scrapping from the brawl pits on Sartoba. He took it slow, watching things in half-half speed as they happened. A taser? What was this, amateur hour? The shock arced through his implants, sparking at the hard points. A playful tickle. He laughed deep from his cyborg lungs and watched what the man would throw at him next.
Nano-blades were a nice compliment to the arsenal, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The first hit went for his middle, it landed well and found purchase. A hollow thunk followed by a groan came out of Sygan as John hit him with the first, then tried to follow up with the second under his chin.
Moving even faster than before, Sygan's hand reached up and caught John's hand and blade - holding it with indomitable strength. "Nice lil' toys you've got there, but you're nowhere near major leagues, fella'." With his free hand he ripped the electric dart from his breastplate and crushed it within his fist. "My turn." He reared his head back and slammed it forwards into John's face - his septum piercing leaving a bloodied mark against his forehead.
His free hand made a fist. Steam released from his knuckles as they opened to reveal four barrels - one for each knuckle. He held his fist out against John's head and fired a concussive blast - not enough to kill the man but enough to disorient him if he got caught anywhere close - especially in these tight halls.
The cup did shit-all. Didn't matter - that was just the distraction. The real kicker (hah!) was her knee connecting with something soft and squishy, sinking for a bit, then thudding into something hard. Isre had pretty extensive experience with this part of the body, and as jarring as the thud felt, she knew it was the soft part that really hurt.
"Eat shit, fuck - URK!"
Mental note. Lykaians either had steel nerves or were masochistic as heck. The guy recovered faster than she'd expected, thrusting a hand out and clasping strong fingers around her throat. If that wasn't enough, he lifted her, feet dangling. She wanted to say something witty - probably about if his idea of fun was having another go at his balls, this time with a boot, or maybe a bit about buying her dinner first before choking her out - but it was kinda hard to say anything with all of her body weight resting on her throat. Instead, she just gurgled a bit, glaring at him as her chest began to burn.
The tips of her boots swung at his belly, her nails pressed into his arm, digging as deep as she could into the skin.
Plasma flared to life in Laurel’s other hand as the pirate took hers and eagerly made a salacious offer. These types were so easy. The tip of her plasma blade buzzed inches away from the back of his neck, her grip on his hand steadily increasing until she heard the telltale crack of a broken carpal. She smiled tightly and leaned closer.
”Twitch that trigger finger and I will be the one doing the penetrating, asshole. Now I’ve got a better plan. First you’re going to tell me why you dipshits are attacking such a worthless vessel and ruining what should have been a boring trip to Sargasso. Then, if I am satisfied with your answer, you, me, and the ComedyBot over here will go tell your friends the raid is over, and you’ll get out of here with the rest of your crew alive.” Laurel glanced to the fallen rock man, vigilant against any pirates playing opossum.
When her crimson stare fell back on the pirate in her grasp it was cold fire, her willingness to bury her blade into his skull completely evident in her level gaze. As much as she wanted to make these fools regret interrupting her easy journey, it would be a lot easier if they were all aboard their own ship. She couldn’t be sure the bot or any of the other passengers aboard the 604 were willing or capable of storming the enemy ship, but so far the enemy seemed far too disorganized to pose much of a real threat against any sort of united front. Laurel aimed to capitalize on their current advantages as much as possible, both for the morale of the passengers and the terror to the sloppy brigands.
Sienna couldn’t help another faint chuckle at Starlight, it just felt out of place like everything else but still she felt some matter of tension leave her shoulders. Miss Sevvi keyed in her message and sent it out, so now what? Sienna looked sidelong at the pilot as her instruments registered something, but what that was Sienna hadn’t the foggiest. At the very least nothing came flinging back through the void promising immediate help. Do people even help on this lane? She had heard that pirates tended to leave it be, but if authorities had to come from the planet they were what, thirteen hours away? Maybe a skimmer could get here faster but that was just grasping for hope.
Sienna drew a breath in, and let it out slowly. The sound of gunfire reverberated through the skin of the ship, heavy coughs and high whines that only made the gun she was holding felt heavier against her palm, so she tried not to think about it. Instead, they needed to figure out what they needed to do next, right? There had to be something to do other than sit and wait. Her gaze returned to the closed door.
“So, what can we do, from here, now?” Sienna asked. ”Without needing to open the door.” She added after a long moment.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Six had retreated into the galley when he saw the sparks flying. Breaching a ship wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun time, and more often than not anyone stupid enough to stand near the site either got shot or burned. Fortunately, he’d been on both sides of that, so he took cover while waiting for the pirates to move in. The smoke was a bit of a pain, though. He didn’t have any of those fancy ocular implants to give him thermal or night vision, and there were at least two people in there that he didn’t want to risk hitting.
So Six stayed put, darting glances around the corner every so often, waiting for the smoke to dissipate, at least to a level where he could get a clear shot. He heard one of the pirates enter, heard the sound of struggles. He had to do something. Six took a deep pull from his cigar, blowing out the smoke as he turned the corner, taking stock of the situation. Looked like a Lykaian, holding the Silwin in the air. She had some fight in her. Six respected that.
“Howdy, lobo.” Six’s drawl cut through the smoke, his words punctuated by a click as he drew back the hammer of his revolver, the weapon pointed firmly at the Lykaian.
“Drop the girl, and we might be able to have a chat, share a smoke.”
"Different departments." He repeated in a harsh whisper, testing the words in his tongue with an almost incredulous disgust. "My, oh my, you boys got a good thing going here, don't you?' Jealousy drove his blade deeper into the man's gut, twisting the handle in Voraan's grip with an intimate half-step closer. Never too close, though-- there was something about being face-to-face that made it so... special. After being on the run for a few months, looking over his shoulder, being treated like shit-- this felt nice. Hell, it felt fuckin' wonderful. The man's sweat and lingering dampness from the shower hissed along the exposed edge of the plasma cutter, steam wafting up between the two along the ever-pungent scent of burnt flesh. Nothing Voraan could smell, thankfully. 'Course, he didn't need smell-- sight and sound were plenty enough for his satisfaction. Hearing that switch go off in the man's head was about as priceless as it could ever get.
"Look at little Junior Mechanic here, figuring it allll out." The blade fell in to the hilt, and Voraan clapped a hand over the poor fucker's mouth, just to be safe. "Shame it isn't gonna fuckin' matter. Don't worry-- I won't let 'em see you like this."
Before his time as a marauder, Kell had sojourned as a dockworker and fisherman along the coastal settlements of Toi-700d. It was an honest living, for a good few years-- but he was a dishonest man, and he never lasted long in one place. Inevitably, there came a time for him to move on, whether that was intentionally or by force. Dockworking, though, was a fine job. He'd been damn good at it, but the appeal faded, and it seemed he'd been destined for other things. Should've known what type of man he was going to turn out to be, in the end.
Voraan always had been good at gutting his catch.
With a twist and rip upwards-- methodical, practiced-- the marauder dragged his blade through the man's chest, cracking the sternum and shoving him back into the shower room. Voraan didn't so much as spare a glance over the shoulder as he closed the door and stabbed his plasma cutter into the control panel, shearing the flat plate from the wall with a dull pop and hiss of torn metal. With a flick of his thumb along the shaft, his plasma blade retracted, and he clipped the tool to his belt as he began to walk deeper inside the ship. If he could avoid the lieutenants, he would-- at the moment, Vorran only needed to get to the cockpit. Either that, or find their maintenance and engine room.
Both plans would work, if the opportunity presented itself. Voraan was pragmatic, after all.
Post by ShoddyProduct on Mar 31, 2023 21:48:47 GMT
Nothing. Nothing? Not a single person on the whole damn planet, heading towards it, or leaving it, heard her message? That had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frustrated, but not deterred, Sevvi began again, trying different frequencies, aiming the message differently, anything she could try, in order to at least get a response. She knew Sargasso wasn't exactly the friendliest space, but these pirates didn't seem to be associated with the big wigs of the planet to her knowledge, and they would definitely (she thought) be upset about the sort of operation they seemed to be running. As the PAS arms worked away at sending more distress calls, the Dokka turned her head and took the handgun she had unholstered before into her meat-hands, holding it familiarly.
Considering the noise coming from beyond the cockpit, she wasn't exactly hopeful that her little sidearm could stop whatever would be coming through, if something did come through, but it did lend her a sense of security, even if just a little bit.
She turned her attention to Sienna, doing her utmost to keep her eyes at face level. It was mostly working. "Best case, we sit n' wait for someone to get back in touch. Worst case, we sit n' wait to get shot." She didn't like either course of action, but she didn't see many other options. "Wait, scratch that, worst case is we get vetted into space. That one prolly won't happen, so long as the door stays shut," she said.
The pilot stood and continued working on getting a response, before it dawned on her that being so doom and gloom maybe wasn't the best approach. "Sorry. Ain't right to talk like that right now. I've had to deal with pirates before, y'kinda get used to it after a bit. These guys seem rough, honestly, so I figure the rest of those folk, geared up as they are, can prolly handle it. Prolly best to stay put, least til things quiet down in the hall."
"Not even gonna try, are ya?" He pouted, "That thing even loaded? Y'know, I've never understood- what's the point in holding a gun to someone's head if you're not even gonna shoot it? You could at least aim for a limb as a warning shot, or something."
Grim sighed.
"Though, I guess it does work, right? People do all sorts of shit when they think their life is being threatened. You could be holding a fucking Super Soaker to someone's head, for all it matters- as long as they think the danger's real, they'll do fucking cartwheels for ya. "
The stranger—his ally—was talking, acting, attacking, whilst Grim stood there and talked. He had realised about halfway through his spiel that he had the chance to serve as an excellent distraction whilst she did the work for him. She wasn't going to kill this man just yet- she wanted answers first.
"Well, uh... they're not here to kill us. Otherwise they would've done so." He said, "Maybe they want something from the ship- though, uh... this doesn't seem like the kind of vessel to be carrying valuable cargo, does it? Either way..."
He shrugged.
"I don't think we should let them finish."
Grim pulled his gun, and shot once at the attacker's head.
The right-hand nanoblade sunk into the torso as Johnathan's ears heard nothing but a thunk. Nothing. No blood, organs, not even a piece of cybernetic bio-equipment seem to be damaged at all. How much of this man was machine and how much human? A rare question the detective ever asked to anyone outside of himself. His left fist rose up rapidly to bring the second nanoblade up, throwing both nanometal musculature and the full weight of his body upwards to create the full momentum behind the swing.
It stopped dead. Johnathan kept fighting the grip, attempting to shove the blade further towards its target. Nothing. The edge of his peripheral vision caught the fist enclosed around his arm. Nanometal machines fighting hydraulic pistons at every step. Johnathan barely registered the words coming from the man's mouth, if only because his auditory implants kept him abreast of every word as it sent the signals for his brain to register.
The blade in the man's torso left but a sudden moving mass slammed into the side of the detective's forehead. His body buckled under the force, forced a step back and to bend his legs almost limply for a moment before shaking his head and raising his eyes up once more to the pirate. The softly crawling liquid traveled along the side of his forehead, small and red as any other human's. Well perhaps a hue darker for all the machines in his blood.
</ACTIVATING REGEN MODS.>
His vision did not blur from the impact, but it would have had he been simply human. Dermal armor in the skin, bone, and all manner of tissue helped but it was not the same level of protection as nanometal or body armor as he felt the concussion ringing through his head like a jackhammer set for an alarm. Hopefully the augmentations would fix that before it became too much of a persistent problem. Instead his eyes widened as steam ejected from the pirate's fist, metal shifting away and back, as four barrels revealed themselves as the underlying knuckles.
No.
Holding the stun gun in a tight grip, Johnathan's mind circulated around a few different methods of escape. Not enough time to aim for the man's head before that fist reached him. No point in shooting another body part. Most of the man was metal and armored from the outside. No real pain or damage would be dealt there. No help or backup here and even if there was, he can't risk shouting out for any. Not here. Not so close to those two.
The revolver. He needed to get the-.
Stop.
John could almost feel the cool metal of the fist and barrels against the side of his head before his neck experienced the worst whiplash of his life, with his head taking the lead in snapping to the side as the rest of his body soon followed suit. A ringing sensation happened for the span of a moment before all hearing left his right ear. The same ringing continued on the other side.
"Fuugh!"
His limbs went limp for a moment before combat programming and augmentations forced him to retain the tension in his limbs and stay standing. The blades immediately retracted even in spite of the grip Sygan retained on them. A safety feature designed for the event of a serious loss of balance or coordination. The same could be said for his hold on his weapon as his hands remained mechanically firm in their purchase around the firearm. His ocular lenses remained focused on the person in front of him, however, in spite of not making the lease visual sense. Every part of his upper neck and torso throbbed in pain, as enhanced musculature struggled and tore from the blow, but the pounding in his head only grew louder.
And louder. Both from pain and something much more. A raw focus kept his thoughts aligned through the haze and heat.
Time to be a major inconvenience for this major league player.
A cough crawled from his chest as he tried to inhale before his left arm's nanoblade unsheathed itself once more and swung wildly at the man's head. Perhaps draw blood or cut out an eye if Johnathan was lucky. No, he wanted the man to flinch for a moment, be distracted. In the moment's in-between, his single free hand dexterously re-cycling the one weapon that may help him get out of a predicament. No time to switch. Only reload during the distraction.
Before John lowered his wild-swinging arm quickly and steadily. The stun gun held in his hand and aimed straight for the pirate's right eye. Johnathan pulled the trigger.
And prayed it would get him free from the thug's grasp.
Last Edit: Apr 1, 2023 22:18:10 GMT by Paperbag Fill
“Oh, thats…” morbid. She didn’t finish her sentence but the thought was definitely there. How long would they live if they got sucked through the window, ten seconds? Maybe she’d pass out after the first one or two so she wouldn’t feel the freezing cold. That would be nice. She shifted her gun between her hands which didn’t do much for the weight or for the lump currently sitting in her stomach. “Right okay, sit and wait.” she said, with a faintly nervous laugh as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand.
She caught Miss Sevvi’s eye before her gaze flicked back down for a moment. Sienna released a breath and nodded as the pilot mentioned that this wasn’t her first time dealing with pirates (how could she stay sane after the first time? Sienna couldn’t tell if she should be impressed or concerned) and they should trust the others. ”Right, right, sorry. Just, first time y’know, getting shot at, ha.” She offered up a thin smile that definitely didn’t reach her eyes.
“I guess the gunfire is a good sign then, means they’re still alive or something.” That was very stupid why did she say that. She put her hand over her lips before she blurted out something else.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//