It was your last post/section/chapter/whatever that was really well written.
And I wouldnt really say porno... Thats going a bit far.
Darkside
Moderator: Moderators
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Forboding Angel
- Evolution RTS Developer
- Posts: 14673
- Joined: 17 Nov 2005, 02:43
├óÔé¼┼ôI can't get him out of the system├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said. Amber looked over her shoulder, trying to make sense of the key strokes Olivia were employing, but was balked by a new set of four keyboards that slid out of the dash board. It looked deliberately designed to confuse the hell out of anyone not trained in its use. ├óÔé¼┼ôBut├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia finished typing. Owens figure kept talking, his mouth moving but no sound was pipped through the P.A. ├óÔé¼┼ôI can shut him the hell up├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia grinned.
├óÔé¼┼ôGood thing too├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. She glared at Owens, who was still trying vainly to speak through the mute. ├óÔé¼┼ôNow what are we going to do about this little virus├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said, leaning against the far wall and grinning wolfishly at Owens. ├óÔé¼┼ôI say we dump the computer system, then get a replacement program├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz suggested helpfully.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat wouldn't work├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said ├óÔé¼┼ôThese programs are incredibility advanced. Even if we could get a custom job, we would probably lose the stealth field generator completely├óÔé¼┬Ø. Olivia typed into one of the keyboards and Owens was shrunk, his image persistently hovering off to the side as one of the holo cameras pointed away from the main hologram. The main hologram showed a massive piece of artwork, a winding trail of white lines. Liz was shocked when she noticed the 'art' was one mathematic equation.
├óÔé¼┼ôThese are the equations used to make the generator work├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said, and banished the image. Owens stayed off to the side, waving his arms around. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's not getting out of there, right?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôNope├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said ├óÔé¼┼ôI couldn't get RID of his program, but i could stick it in a small cubical and hope he dies of boredom├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood plan├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, clapping Olivia on the shoulder ├óÔé¼┼ôI am going finish my shower├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Peter walked in as Liz left, rubbing grit from his eyes. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo what is there to DO on this ship?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhere have you been?├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôSleeping├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell there are some vids in the main computer system, some games in the computer system and over forty three thousand books in the computer system├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said, calling up the different stats in the main hologram.
├óÔé¼┼ôI heard games make you more violent├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter commented, then he walked out, prepared to start working his way through those forty three thousand books. Unfortunately he was interrupted on the way back to his room by Liz running past him in the hallway, wearing nothing but a towel, her hair dripping and wet. Peter raised his eye brow, then shrugged and continued walking back to his corridor.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat should do it├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said ├óÔé¼┼ôI've patched a few holes in my fire walls├óÔé¼┬Ø. Owens stood sullenly in his little holo camera, muted again. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe had the gall to ask why i take two showers in so many hours├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, her teeth grinding in frustration. ├óÔé¼┼ôDid you explain how you had to finish your other one first?├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôNo, i just came here as fast as possible├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. She looked down ├óÔé¼┼ôOh right├óÔé¼┬Ø She said ├óÔé¼┼ôI think i should get dressed now├óÔé¼┬Ø.
She was pulling on her soaks when Owens popped onto her video screen. ├óÔé¼┼ôListen i know we have gotten off to several bad starts, but i├óÔé¼┬Ø. Liz shot the monitor with her las pistol. The laser flashed and the air was filled with the smell of ozone. The video screen exploded, the sudden heat change causing the entire thing to explode.
The Persephone went through space, and people throughout SOL went through there normal lives. Peter read half a book before they arrived at Leviathan. Olivia made a game out of Owens. He would break out of the programming blocks and Olivia would trap him. It was entertainment enough for both of them, even if Owens was frustrated that he couldn't talk to the others. Amber spent some time pondering what the fuck was going on.
Liz played chess with the computer, and lost three times out of ten. The ship felt too large, being built for eleven people rather then the four that were on board. The midnight of the day before they arrived at Leviathan, Peter walked down the hall way. His shoes clicked softly and he mused at why it would be night time in space. Time as you know is meaningless in space one part of his brain stated. He thought about that for a bit, stopped his walking.
├óÔé¼┼ôIf we had no time to sleep then we would go crazy├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter finally muttered. That seemed reasonable so he started to walk again. The ship was dark, and quiet. Peter started to feel a little creeped out. He looked over his shoulder and shook himself. He was being silly. Still...he went into his room and locked the door.
Leviathan loomed in the window's of the Persephone and looked even more dazzling then the last time. Light streamed through the several jagged cracks in the original superstructure that had been filled in with hyper diamond. A hazy atmosphere surrounded the entire defunct ship, leaking from the many small holes that perforated the hull. But because new O2 was created at a faster rate then it was leaking, no one cared or noticed.
The Persephone docked in one of the ten massive docking ports in the side of the Leviathan. It was different then the docking ports they had used when docking the Banshee. These were for the freighters and other ships that were too large to be sent to the regular ports. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn thats a nice ship├óÔé¼┬Ø the docking officer said over the com link. ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't tell anyone about it├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia jocked. The Persephone slid slowly into the docking port.
Four clamps slowly latched onto the Persephone rounded edges, conforming to the unusual design of the ship. Then a smart tube snaked into the airlock and the green light on the Persephone side of the air lock flashed on. Peter, who had been standing next to the air lock along with Liz, Amber and Olivia, thumbed the open button. The door opened and they all steeped into it. Being a military grade star ship the pressurization cycle was amazingly quick. Rather then five minutes it was ten seconds as the air cycled and the lock opened.
The smart tube for large ships had been designed for moving cargo, not people. But the four of them walked down it easy enough despite its slid way that zipped at several miles an hour to an industrial zone. The only docking port open was normally used by ships carrying heavy machinery, and so it needed to get the stuff to the factory's in Leviathan as fast and efficiently as possible. They didn't turn it on, as they didn't want to fly straight into a automated manufacture plant and probably get eviscerated by high energy industrial laser drills.
So they kept floating. The floor was designed to hold things by magnetics anyway. ├óÔé¼┼ôMarco is going to pissed about losing my space ship├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said, wincing. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts your's isn't it?├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôMarco payed for it├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia responded as they entered Leviathan proper. It was just as, if not more, awe inspiring. The city was still a luminous yellow and the buildings were still spindled fantastic constructions that interlocked like some kind of gigantic spider web.
The four of them drifted to Marco's mansion, still spinning in the center of four struts. Some things, at least, had stayed the same.
The Marshall stood in blackness. There was a ground, even though there really shouldn't be. He looked down and he had no body. It was the state that most of the Unbound felt when they were being decompiled and recompiled. For the Marshall when he was in communion he felt like that. ├óÔé¼┼ôMarshall├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôwe are pleased with you efficiency in dealing with rouge star ship 991, classified as Banshee├óÔé¼┬Ø. Our calculation shows that you had a 78 percent efficiency rating, a 12.334 percent improvement├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Marshall gave himself a few nanoseconds to feel pleasure, but the voiceless voice started up again. ├óÔé¼┼ôUnfortunately├óÔé¼┬Ø it said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou had a miserable 0.0001 percent success in destroying new class stealth ship 001, classified as Persephone├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall's eyebrow shot up ├óÔé¼┼ôWe don't even know if the Persephone was there├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôOur sensors picked up a slight heat difference in the surrounding space, but there where-├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou failed to notice that the heat difference vanished when rouge ship 991, classified as Banshee, was destroyed by fifteen separate ten megaton low yield type nuclear weapons├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe calculated that it had a 12.2 percent chance to be a random fluctuation, or a 37.8 percent that it was a ship we have no identification of. There is a overwhelming 60.0 percent chance that it was the Persephone├óÔé¼┬Ø.
The Marshall tightened his gloved hands. ├óÔé¼┼ôBut it makes no difference├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice continued ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have decided, based off of information given to us by Athena, to proceed with Oblivion├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall broke into the voice's monologue ├óÔé¼┼ôI must disagree├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. The voice paused. It felt like an entirety. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy?├óÔé¼┬Ø the voice asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôthe Banshee's and the man they picked up from the Transsteller liner have found Owens. We need to destroy them, or they could find everything out├óÔé¼┬Ø
There was another pause that felt like an eternity. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat has a approval rating of 92.32 percent├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said after a long pause ├óÔé¼┼ôYour impute is unique, and sometime multiples our successes a thousand fold├óÔé¼┬Ø the 92.32 percent approval rate was the greatest praise the Marshall had ever received. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have formulated a new plan with the aid of Athena├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd she agrees with it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Something formed in the darkness ├óÔé¼┼ôBut first we have a new face for you├óÔé¼┬Ø the voice said. The Marshall looked at it as it formed in the blackness. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho's face is it?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked as the mask like flesh formed and solidified in the open space in front of him. ├óÔé¼┼ôUser of room 90300, Notre Dame arco. Ex private investigator, and now untracked by any Overseer├óÔé¼┬Ø the voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou will infiltrate the group, eliminate and replace subject: Peter. T. Weller├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGood thing too├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. She glared at Owens, who was still trying vainly to speak through the mute. ├óÔé¼┼ôNow what are we going to do about this little virus├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said, leaning against the far wall and grinning wolfishly at Owens. ├óÔé¼┼ôI say we dump the computer system, then get a replacement program├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz suggested helpfully.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat wouldn't work├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said ├óÔé¼┼ôThese programs are incredibility advanced. Even if we could get a custom job, we would probably lose the stealth field generator completely├óÔé¼┬Ø. Olivia typed into one of the keyboards and Owens was shrunk, his image persistently hovering off to the side as one of the holo cameras pointed away from the main hologram. The main hologram showed a massive piece of artwork, a winding trail of white lines. Liz was shocked when she noticed the 'art' was one mathematic equation.
├óÔé¼┼ôThese are the equations used to make the generator work├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said, and banished the image. Owens stayed off to the side, waving his arms around. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's not getting out of there, right?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôNope├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said ├óÔé¼┼ôI couldn't get RID of his program, but i could stick it in a small cubical and hope he dies of boredom├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood plan├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, clapping Olivia on the shoulder ├óÔé¼┼ôI am going finish my shower├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Peter walked in as Liz left, rubbing grit from his eyes. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo what is there to DO on this ship?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhere have you been?├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôSleeping├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell there are some vids in the main computer system, some games in the computer system and over forty three thousand books in the computer system├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said, calling up the different stats in the main hologram.
├óÔé¼┼ôI heard games make you more violent├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter commented, then he walked out, prepared to start working his way through those forty three thousand books. Unfortunately he was interrupted on the way back to his room by Liz running past him in the hallway, wearing nothing but a towel, her hair dripping and wet. Peter raised his eye brow, then shrugged and continued walking back to his corridor.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat should do it├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said ├óÔé¼┼ôI've patched a few holes in my fire walls├óÔé¼┬Ø. Owens stood sullenly in his little holo camera, muted again. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe had the gall to ask why i take two showers in so many hours├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, her teeth grinding in frustration. ├óÔé¼┼ôDid you explain how you had to finish your other one first?├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôNo, i just came here as fast as possible├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. She looked down ├óÔé¼┼ôOh right├óÔé¼┬Ø She said ├óÔé¼┼ôI think i should get dressed now├óÔé¼┬Ø.
She was pulling on her soaks when Owens popped onto her video screen. ├óÔé¼┼ôListen i know we have gotten off to several bad starts, but i├óÔé¼┬Ø. Liz shot the monitor with her las pistol. The laser flashed and the air was filled with the smell of ozone. The video screen exploded, the sudden heat change causing the entire thing to explode.
The Persephone went through space, and people throughout SOL went through there normal lives. Peter read half a book before they arrived at Leviathan. Olivia made a game out of Owens. He would break out of the programming blocks and Olivia would trap him. It was entertainment enough for both of them, even if Owens was frustrated that he couldn't talk to the others. Amber spent some time pondering what the fuck was going on.
Liz played chess with the computer, and lost three times out of ten. The ship felt too large, being built for eleven people rather then the four that were on board. The midnight of the day before they arrived at Leviathan, Peter walked down the hall way. His shoes clicked softly and he mused at why it would be night time in space. Time as you know is meaningless in space one part of his brain stated. He thought about that for a bit, stopped his walking.
├óÔé¼┼ôIf we had no time to sleep then we would go crazy├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter finally muttered. That seemed reasonable so he started to walk again. The ship was dark, and quiet. Peter started to feel a little creeped out. He looked over his shoulder and shook himself. He was being silly. Still...he went into his room and locked the door.
Leviathan loomed in the window's of the Persephone and looked even more dazzling then the last time. Light streamed through the several jagged cracks in the original superstructure that had been filled in with hyper diamond. A hazy atmosphere surrounded the entire defunct ship, leaking from the many small holes that perforated the hull. But because new O2 was created at a faster rate then it was leaking, no one cared or noticed.
The Persephone docked in one of the ten massive docking ports in the side of the Leviathan. It was different then the docking ports they had used when docking the Banshee. These were for the freighters and other ships that were too large to be sent to the regular ports. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn thats a nice ship├óÔé¼┬Ø the docking officer said over the com link. ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't tell anyone about it├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia jocked. The Persephone slid slowly into the docking port.
Four clamps slowly latched onto the Persephone rounded edges, conforming to the unusual design of the ship. Then a smart tube snaked into the airlock and the green light on the Persephone side of the air lock flashed on. Peter, who had been standing next to the air lock along with Liz, Amber and Olivia, thumbed the open button. The door opened and they all steeped into it. Being a military grade star ship the pressurization cycle was amazingly quick. Rather then five minutes it was ten seconds as the air cycled and the lock opened.
The smart tube for large ships had been designed for moving cargo, not people. But the four of them walked down it easy enough despite its slid way that zipped at several miles an hour to an industrial zone. The only docking port open was normally used by ships carrying heavy machinery, and so it needed to get the stuff to the factory's in Leviathan as fast and efficiently as possible. They didn't turn it on, as they didn't want to fly straight into a automated manufacture plant and probably get eviscerated by high energy industrial laser drills.
So they kept floating. The floor was designed to hold things by magnetics anyway. ├óÔé¼┼ôMarco is going to pissed about losing my space ship├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia said, wincing. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts your's isn't it?├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôMarco payed for it├óÔé¼┬Ø Olivia responded as they entered Leviathan proper. It was just as, if not more, awe inspiring. The city was still a luminous yellow and the buildings were still spindled fantastic constructions that interlocked like some kind of gigantic spider web.
The four of them drifted to Marco's mansion, still spinning in the center of four struts. Some things, at least, had stayed the same.
The Marshall stood in blackness. There was a ground, even though there really shouldn't be. He looked down and he had no body. It was the state that most of the Unbound felt when they were being decompiled and recompiled. For the Marshall when he was in communion he felt like that. ├óÔé¼┼ôMarshall├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôwe are pleased with you efficiency in dealing with rouge star ship 991, classified as Banshee├óÔé¼┬Ø. Our calculation shows that you had a 78 percent efficiency rating, a 12.334 percent improvement├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Marshall gave himself a few nanoseconds to feel pleasure, but the voiceless voice started up again. ├óÔé¼┼ôUnfortunately├óÔé¼┬Ø it said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou had a miserable 0.0001 percent success in destroying new class stealth ship 001, classified as Persephone├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall's eyebrow shot up ├óÔé¼┼ôWe don't even know if the Persephone was there├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôOur sensors picked up a slight heat difference in the surrounding space, but there where-├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou failed to notice that the heat difference vanished when rouge ship 991, classified as Banshee, was destroyed by fifteen separate ten megaton low yield type nuclear weapons├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe calculated that it had a 12.2 percent chance to be a random fluctuation, or a 37.8 percent that it was a ship we have no identification of. There is a overwhelming 60.0 percent chance that it was the Persephone├óÔé¼┬Ø.
The Marshall tightened his gloved hands. ├óÔé¼┼ôBut it makes no difference├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice continued ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have decided, based off of information given to us by Athena, to proceed with Oblivion├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall broke into the voice's monologue ├óÔé¼┼ôI must disagree├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. The voice paused. It felt like an entirety. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy?├óÔé¼┬Ø the voice asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôthe Banshee's and the man they picked up from the Transsteller liner have found Owens. We need to destroy them, or they could find everything out├óÔé¼┬Ø
There was another pause that felt like an eternity. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat has a approval rating of 92.32 percent├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said after a long pause ├óÔé¼┼ôYour impute is unique, and sometime multiples our successes a thousand fold├óÔé¼┬Ø the 92.32 percent approval rate was the greatest praise the Marshall had ever received. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have formulated a new plan with the aid of Athena├óÔé¼┬Ø the voiceless voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd she agrees with it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Something formed in the darkness ├óÔé¼┼ôBut first we have a new face for you├óÔé¼┬Ø the voice said. The Marshall looked at it as it formed in the blackness. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho's face is it?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked as the mask like flesh formed and solidified in the open space in front of him. ├óÔé¼┼ôUser of room 90300, Notre Dame arco. Ex private investigator, and now untracked by any Overseer├óÔé¼┬Ø the voice said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou will infiltrate the group, eliminate and replace subject: Peter. T. Weller├óÔé¼┬Ø
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Archangel of Death
- Posts: 854
- Joined: 28 Jan 2005, 18:15
Actually the Stealth field, possible-quasi-mabey-but-not-quite-A.I's, Darkside (whatever that is), a rather inept defector but genius scientist, two criminals, a vampire (genetically engineered, but still a vampire), a out of work detective and a half trained super solider (cause thats what she is, if you were paying attention...) are all connected in many many many many many many many many different and cool ways.
Have fun trying to detangling THAT web!
Have fun trying to detangling THAT web!
The Marshall had never know fear, real fear. Then the saw started whirring. He flinched. The doctors had said aesthetics wouldn't work, and promised that this would be over sooner then he thought. The saw started the cut at his chin, and blood started to spurt onto the sterilized material that surrounded his face. He heard someone screaming. It took him a awhile to realize it was himself.
-----------------------------------------
Marco grinned toothily, his fangs showing prominently. Peter thought it was accidental, but you could never be so sure with vampires. ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm so glad you made it back Olivia├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, clasping Olivia's hand ├óÔé¼┼ôOut maneuvering a police Skiff at such close range├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd not dieing in the process too├óÔé¼┬Ø. Olivia grinned sheepishly ├óÔé¼┼ôI think i should head to my room, so i can get my traveling back on track├óÔé¼┬Ø She said quietly. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, and Olivia walked down to the door, and went through.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôI have been watching you, Liz├óÔé¼┬Ø. Liz cocked an eyebrow ├óÔé¼┼ôReally?├óÔé¼┬Ø she asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd I noticed something odd├óÔé¼┬Ø he gestured to a displayer behind him. The Persephone was displayed in it, rotating slowly. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is this?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts the Persephone├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber cut in ├óÔé¼┼ôA high military star ship...and its got this bizarre device in it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Marco was about to ask what the device was when a loud, deep roar cut through the conversation, reverberating through the floor. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the fuck├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked to the air, instinctively pulling out her laser pistol. ├óÔé¼┼ôI have no idea├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, walking over to the displayer and typing a quick command into it. ├óÔé¼┼ôI believe that an explosion has ripped open part of my mansion├óÔé¼┬Ø. The gravity stuttered as the gyroscope started to malfunction. ├óÔé¼┼ôExcuse me├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said and pressed another sort of key commands. The gravity returned to normal, with slight judders as correctional engines kept the mansion from hitting any surrounding buildings.
Then they heard foot steps. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh dear├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôI believe Vladamir has chosen the worst possible time to get uppity├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho the hell is that!├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôGet down!├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber shouted and knocked Liz and Peter, who were looking around trying to find were the footsteps were coming from, and they all hit the deck. Then five soldiers, decked out in what looked like bulletproof armor and helmets with com-links running under there chins. They also had low caliber machine guns with gun sights that fed into there hermits.
Not that any of them could see it, but the armor was filled with biomonitoring equipment, locational trackers, atourepair systems and medical systems peppered around there. The only problem was the ├óÔé¼┼ômedical├óÔé¼┬Ø systems killed them over time, as they were basically stimpacks, happy juice and noshock. But they leveled there machine guns and opened fire. The guns were silenced, so they didn't make the noise most people would expect, but five of them firing at once made a medium loud extended cough. The bullets were cases less, so the only sound was the bullets clanging against the walls and thudding into Marco.
├óÔé¼┼ôHalf Fire!├óÔé¼┬Ø a oddly accented voice barked over the gunfire. The soldiers stopped in unison and pulled there weapons up to their shoulders. They stood at perfect attention. Marco tottered on his feet and fell backwards, bleeding sluggishly from many small bullet holes. Then another man, who was the same sallow white that Marco was with fangs and sunglasses, walked into the room. Peter looked up at the man and knew he was going to die.
The man, who was wearing a trench coat and black gloves, bent over at the waist until his eyes peered directly into Peter's eyes. ├óÔé¼┼ôI don't believe we've met├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôMy name is Vladamir, and I'm sorry this had to happen while you were visiting├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou have horrible timing├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, slowly getting up and brushing his clothes off. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, looking over at the vampire. He looked like he should be dead, but he seemed happy enough. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's a vampire, idiot├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, her hands over her head.
Peter was unsure the exact capability's of vampires, so he just kept his mouth shut. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy aren't you using higher caliber, or explosive rounds?├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco asked, picking bullets out of his body and dropping them onto the floor. They were dripping in blood. ├óÔé¼┼ôExplosive rounds├óÔé¼┬Ø Vladamir said, flinching as the bullets ran over the floor, leaving streaks of red on the perfect white ├óÔé¼┼ôMake such a mess├óÔé¼┬Ø. Marco looked at one of the bullets then deliberately dropped it onto Vlad's foot. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo how are the replica's going?├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco asked, looking at one of the soldiers. ├óÔé¼┼ôthey still don't want to live├óÔé¼┬Ø Vlad said ├óÔé¼┼ôMakes it hard to have them fight well in real situations├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats what i said was the problem with clones├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said. He reached out and grabbed the helmet off of one of the soldiers. The lower face was covered by some soft fabric, but the upper face was a little pale, with white eyes and barely suggested eyebrows. Peter, Amber and Liz started thinking they could get up. ├óÔé¼┼ôSeems hale and healthy├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, and he pulled the lower mask down. The replica solider had no mouth.
--------------------------
The Marshall sat up slowly, feeling as if his face had been cut off. Which it had. They had cut the skin away with the saw, then using lasers, micro surgical tools and many restraints, they had grafted Peters face on him. ├óÔé¼┼ôTry grinning├óÔé¼┬Ø one of the doctors said. The Marshall, looking into a mirror provided for him, tried to grin. His mouth felt completely unlike anything he had known but he managed to get it to move. When it moved whatever was holding it together stopped working and his mouth hung open. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, his voice still perfect ├óÔé¼┼ôI cant seem to get the hang of it├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDon't worry├óÔé¼┬Ø the doctor said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou have been speaking with an imaginary mouth. Its programed into your brain from your birth├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôBirth├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said, feeling his new face tenderly ├óÔé¼┼ôIts a dirty word, when you think of it├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, his mouth flapping like a poorly lip synced synthactor. ├óÔé¼┼ôToo true├óÔé¼┬Ø the doctor said, putting away his blood say into the sterilizer. ├óÔé¼┼ôHand's please├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall asked curtly. The doctor pulled out the hands and sapped the right on onto the Marshall's right wrist. The Marshall connected the left on by himself, and flexed his fingers.
├óÔé¼┼ôI think i will practice my lines a bit longer├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, looking at the doctor. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course, sir├óÔé¼┬Ø the doctor said, nodding. The Marshall stood up, and walked down the halls of the ERS and found his room. ├óÔé¼┼ôdamn├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôIts ironic that sometimes our greatest strength can be our worst resistance├óÔé¼┬Ø. He sat on his bed and patted his partner on the leg. ├óÔé¼┼ôLets get to work├óÔé¼┬Ø she said. ├óÔé¼┼ôSometimes├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said ├óÔé¼┼ôI think this preoccupation with understanding human occupations makes us unclean├óÔé¼┬Ø.
His partner sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôI know what you mean, but...you never know what you might need to do in a mission├óÔé¼┬Ø she smiled ├óÔé¼┼ôBut lets try to enjoy it, even for a while├óÔé¼┬Ø.
---------------------------------
Richy hated space. He and Ron had been drifting at a pitiful one gee, stuck on a small ship they...borrowed from a local space ship dealer. They didn't know exactly where they were going or what they were doing once they got there. But they knew that Richy never...ever...ever..gave up a grudge. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo...what do you put on first, your shirt or your pants?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy asked, looking at his compatriot. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you put on first, your shirt or your pants?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôShirt, why├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy said back. ├óÔé¼┼ôJust to pass the time├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron said. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow much time is left on our voyage?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy asked. Ron looked at his watch ├óÔé¼┼ôAbout...five weeks at this speed├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôCan't we go faster?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe could use all our fuel and go really fast, but we wouldn't be able to slo-├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron started to said, but Richy cut him off, slamming his fist down on the acceleration button. They were both smashed back into their chairs. Once all the fuel was used it would only take them five days to get to where ever they were going. ├óÔé¼┼ôYOU IDIOT!├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron shouted. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe'll get there faster├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, but we wont be able to slow down├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe will just zip past where they might be, if they are there at all!├óÔé¼┬Ø. Richy thought about that for a second/
-----------------------------------------
Marco grinned toothily, his fangs showing prominently. Peter thought it was accidental, but you could never be so sure with vampires. ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm so glad you made it back Olivia├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, clasping Olivia's hand ├óÔé¼┼ôOut maneuvering a police Skiff at such close range├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd not dieing in the process too├óÔé¼┬Ø. Olivia grinned sheepishly ├óÔé¼┼ôI think i should head to my room, so i can get my traveling back on track├óÔé¼┬Ø She said quietly. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, and Olivia walked down to the door, and went through.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôI have been watching you, Liz├óÔé¼┬Ø. Liz cocked an eyebrow ├óÔé¼┼ôReally?├óÔé¼┬Ø she asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd I noticed something odd├óÔé¼┬Ø he gestured to a displayer behind him. The Persephone was displayed in it, rotating slowly. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is this?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts the Persephone├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber cut in ├óÔé¼┼ôA high military star ship...and its got this bizarre device in it├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Marco was about to ask what the device was when a loud, deep roar cut through the conversation, reverberating through the floor. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the fuck├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked to the air, instinctively pulling out her laser pistol. ├óÔé¼┼ôI have no idea├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, walking over to the displayer and typing a quick command into it. ├óÔé¼┼ôI believe that an explosion has ripped open part of my mansion├óÔé¼┬Ø. The gravity stuttered as the gyroscope started to malfunction. ├óÔé¼┼ôExcuse me├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said and pressed another sort of key commands. The gravity returned to normal, with slight judders as correctional engines kept the mansion from hitting any surrounding buildings.
Then they heard foot steps. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh dear├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôI believe Vladamir has chosen the worst possible time to get uppity├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho the hell is that!├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôGet down!├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber shouted and knocked Liz and Peter, who were looking around trying to find were the footsteps were coming from, and they all hit the deck. Then five soldiers, decked out in what looked like bulletproof armor and helmets with com-links running under there chins. They also had low caliber machine guns with gun sights that fed into there hermits.
Not that any of them could see it, but the armor was filled with biomonitoring equipment, locational trackers, atourepair systems and medical systems peppered around there. The only problem was the ├óÔé¼┼ômedical├óÔé¼┬Ø systems killed them over time, as they were basically stimpacks, happy juice and noshock. But they leveled there machine guns and opened fire. The guns were silenced, so they didn't make the noise most people would expect, but five of them firing at once made a medium loud extended cough. The bullets were cases less, so the only sound was the bullets clanging against the walls and thudding into Marco.
├óÔé¼┼ôHalf Fire!├óÔé¼┬Ø a oddly accented voice barked over the gunfire. The soldiers stopped in unison and pulled there weapons up to their shoulders. They stood at perfect attention. Marco tottered on his feet and fell backwards, bleeding sluggishly from many small bullet holes. Then another man, who was the same sallow white that Marco was with fangs and sunglasses, walked into the room. Peter looked up at the man and knew he was going to die.
The man, who was wearing a trench coat and black gloves, bent over at the waist until his eyes peered directly into Peter's eyes. ├óÔé¼┼ôI don't believe we've met├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôMy name is Vladamir, and I'm sorry this had to happen while you were visiting├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou have horrible timing├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, slowly getting up and brushing his clothes off. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, looking over at the vampire. He looked like he should be dead, but he seemed happy enough. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's a vampire, idiot├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, her hands over her head.
Peter was unsure the exact capability's of vampires, so he just kept his mouth shut. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy aren't you using higher caliber, or explosive rounds?├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco asked, picking bullets out of his body and dropping them onto the floor. They were dripping in blood. ├óÔé¼┼ôExplosive rounds├óÔé¼┬Ø Vladamir said, flinching as the bullets ran over the floor, leaving streaks of red on the perfect white ├óÔé¼┼ôMake such a mess├óÔé¼┬Ø. Marco looked at one of the bullets then deliberately dropped it onto Vlad's foot. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo how are the replica's going?├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco asked, looking at one of the soldiers. ├óÔé¼┼ôthey still don't want to live├óÔé¼┬Ø Vlad said ├óÔé¼┼ôMakes it hard to have them fight well in real situations├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôThats what i said was the problem with clones├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said. He reached out and grabbed the helmet off of one of the soldiers. The lower face was covered by some soft fabric, but the upper face was a little pale, with white eyes and barely suggested eyebrows. Peter, Amber and Liz started thinking they could get up. ├óÔé¼┼ôSeems hale and healthy├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said, and he pulled the lower mask down. The replica solider had no mouth.
--------------------------
The Marshall sat up slowly, feeling as if his face had been cut off. Which it had. They had cut the skin away with the saw, then using lasers, micro surgical tools and many restraints, they had grafted Peters face on him. ├óÔé¼┼ôTry grinning├óÔé¼┬Ø one of the doctors said. The Marshall, looking into a mirror provided for him, tried to grin. His mouth felt completely unlike anything he had known but he managed to get it to move. When it moved whatever was holding it together stopped working and his mouth hung open. ├óÔé¼┼ôDamn├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, his voice still perfect ├óÔé¼┼ôI cant seem to get the hang of it├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDon't worry├óÔé¼┬Ø the doctor said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou have been speaking with an imaginary mouth. Its programed into your brain from your birth├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôBirth├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said, feeling his new face tenderly ├óÔé¼┼ôIts a dirty word, when you think of it├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, his mouth flapping like a poorly lip synced synthactor. ├óÔé¼┼ôToo true├óÔé¼┬Ø the doctor said, putting away his blood say into the sterilizer. ├óÔé¼┼ôHand's please├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall asked curtly. The doctor pulled out the hands and sapped the right on onto the Marshall's right wrist. The Marshall connected the left on by himself, and flexed his fingers.
├óÔé¼┼ôI think i will practice my lines a bit longer├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, looking at the doctor. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course, sir├óÔé¼┬Ø the doctor said, nodding. The Marshall stood up, and walked down the halls of the ERS and found his room. ├óÔé¼┼ôdamn├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôIts ironic that sometimes our greatest strength can be our worst resistance├óÔé¼┬Ø. He sat on his bed and patted his partner on the leg. ├óÔé¼┼ôLets get to work├óÔé¼┬Ø she said. ├óÔé¼┼ôSometimes├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said ├óÔé¼┼ôI think this preoccupation with understanding human occupations makes us unclean├óÔé¼┬Ø.
His partner sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôI know what you mean, but...you never know what you might need to do in a mission├óÔé¼┬Ø she smiled ├óÔé¼┼ôBut lets try to enjoy it, even for a while├óÔé¼┬Ø.
---------------------------------
Richy hated space. He and Ron had been drifting at a pitiful one gee, stuck on a small ship they...borrowed from a local space ship dealer. They didn't know exactly where they were going or what they were doing once they got there. But they knew that Richy never...ever...ever..gave up a grudge. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo...what do you put on first, your shirt or your pants?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy asked, looking at his compatriot. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you put on first, your shirt or your pants?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôShirt, why├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy said back. ├óÔé¼┼ôJust to pass the time├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron said. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow much time is left on our voyage?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy asked. Ron looked at his watch ├óÔé¼┼ôAbout...five weeks at this speed├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôCan't we go faster?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe could use all our fuel and go really fast, but we wouldn't be able to slo-├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron started to said, but Richy cut him off, slamming his fist down on the acceleration button. They were both smashed back into their chairs. Once all the fuel was used it would only take them five days to get to where ever they were going. ├óÔé¼┼ôYOU IDIOT!├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron shouted. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Richy said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe'll get there faster├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, but we wont be able to slow down├óÔé¼┬Ø Ron said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe will just zip past where they might be, if they are there at all!├óÔé¼┬Ø. Richy thought about that for a second/
The episodes are shorter then at the beggining, but i'm going to keep makeing one or two a night.
Cheers!
The Marshall stepped into the acceleration pod, and looked at the technicians out side the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôAlright├óÔé¼┬Ø one of them said, closing the door and speaking through a com link, ├óÔé¼┼ôThis little baby will launch you towards the landing point at over three hundred gees├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall raised his eyebrow. That would liquidate even a Transcended. ├óÔé¼┼ôWont that crush my bones?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked, his mouth only slightly behind his actual voice. ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't worry. This thing has some revolutionary techs that we are going to release on the main stream, when humanity is more ready for the galaxy├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Marshall, who was almost certain that he knew all the future techs they had in the ERF when the pod was launched. He felt a slight weight drop over him, but it felt like 3 gees. But Europa vanished before he could even see it happen. The Marshall felt another sensation of fear when he looked at the speed monitor. Relative to the ERS, he was going at the speed of light. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts got to be a error├óÔé¼┬Ø he said to himself.
Peter was about to comment about the lack of a mouth on the clone, who looked like a replica of the Marshall, when a sword sprouted from one of the Replica's chest. His head lolled, his expression unchanged. Vlad looked at his trooper, but a brutal back kick snapped its spine and sent it sliding off of the sword, blood streaming through both holes. A low whine sounded from the vest as its user died. ├óÔé¼┼ôFight back!├óÔé¼┬Ø Vlad shouted, but it was too late. The Replica's raised their weapons, but Olivia had already cut one of their arms off. The Replica looked at his stump as the vest closed around it to stop the bleeding.
But Olivia smashed his small nose into his brain, killing him instantly. Then Olivia spun three hundred and sixty degree's, beheading the last Replica and ended with her sword nestled over Vlad's chest. ├óÔé¼┼ôOlivia├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't kill him├óÔé¼┬Ø. Olivia, who had creped up silently behind the soldiers with out anyone noticing, relaxed minutely, her sword still right over the vampire's neck. ├óÔé¼┼ôFine fine├óÔé¼┬Ø Vlad said, raising his hands ├óÔé¼┼ôYour disciple's are better then my replica's├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood, now that we have settled that, go back home and try again├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said. Vlad tried to bow, but found it difficult with the sword over his throat.
Olivia grudgingly removed the sword, and Vlad bowed, turned and left. The surviving Replica, who seemed unconcerned with his missing arm, walked after him. Marco bowed slightly to Olivia as she sheathed her sword. Then he looked at Amber, Liz and Peter. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell are you doing down there?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked quizzically.
At dinner, later that night, Peter asked the question that had been bothering him for a long while. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho the hell is Vladimir?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked, holding his wine glass gingerly. Marco, who was wearing new not covered with blood clothes, nodded slowly. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe is my brother├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, putting his wine glass down. His wine was a bit redder then the other's. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd he is working on another system of training superhuman. I try to unlock the inner power of someone, while he tries to create outer power, with bioengineering├óÔé¼┬Ø. Marco grinned wryly ├óÔé¼┼ôHe spent so much time making his soldiers selfless, and now he is desperately trying to get them to want to live├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat are you going to do when you make a superhuman?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked, starting to eat her synthchicken. ├óÔé¼┼ôI really haven't given it much thought├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said truthfully. The rest of the dinner past peacefully, with some random banter about things alien to Peter. References to PND and SPND and other things that were a bit beyond his knowledge In the end he asked to be excused early, saying he was tired after all the day's excitement.
Peter walked down the hall of Marco's mansion, and felt that the day had ended well. All in all. He didn't know what they were going to do, but he knew they would at least be able to think it out, plan and find out what the hell is going on. He found his gust chambers, opened the door and was surprised that a man was standing in the room, looking over the bed. ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you the cleaning service?├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked fairly. The man's back stiffened ├óÔé¼┼ôNo, I'm not the cleaning service├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThen why are you in my room├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked, starting to get annoyed. The man's voice was familiar, though. ├óÔé¼┼ôCause i happen to know you├óÔé¼┬Ø the man said, his back still to Peter.
The Marshall turned off the recording device in his hands and palmed it. Now that he had enough recored sounds of Peter's he could impute them into his vocal prosseser. He turned around.
Peter had enough time to gasp before the man wearing his face slammed a hypodermic into his neck. Peter hit the floor, unconscious. The Marshall closed the door and took out a small saw, some surgical tools and other more exotic devices. He looked at Peter's hands and gently, slowly, pulled off his own gloves. His metallic hands gleamed in the lights of the room.
They could have made replica's of Peter's hands, but they would make a completely perfect recreation of his last scan. That would not take into account the injures and imperfections that Peter had gotten. So he started the saw, and wished that anesthetics didn't work on Peter too. He cut through the bone after just a few moments, and quickly placed the two Cuff links on the wrists. The mechanical device's clamped down on the nerves and muscles and bone.
The Marshall then attached some cyberlinks into Peters stumps, then jerked his left hand off, revealing the cybernetic up link embedded into his arms. He then put Peter's augmented hands into his slots, and placed his hands into Peter's slots. Then he plastered Peter's mouth shut, and pressed the beacon on his belt, and clipped it to Peter's shirt.
Then he stepped out side of the room, and tried to assume his role. His mission would take time, so he might as well start getting used to it. He walked down the hall as the retrieval troops started to infiltrate Marco's mansion. There was only so much defenses a private citizen could put into a building, and so his troops entered the place and left with Peter's unconscious body.
├óÔé¼┼ôHi Liz├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, walking past the woman. Liz, who looked more...real in life then in the pictures he had seen, responded as she walked past him. The Marshall noticed that her skin color was minutely different then when he had seen her before. It was still black, just lighter. Her tattoo's remained the same.
The Marshall stopped as Liz went around the corner. Then he decided that he might as well integrate himself now rather then later. He ran after her ├óÔé¼┼ôHey wait!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted, his voice perfectly matching Peter's. His hands also matched Peter's, right down the the hangnail. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked, looked at him quizzically. The Marshall found himself at a loss for words. He had gotten a brain dump before shipping out, and knew everything the Overseer knew about the Banshee's and Peter.
├óÔé¼┼ôUh├óÔé¼┬Ø he gulped ├óÔé¼┼ôWould you like to...show me around Leviathan?├óÔé¼┬Ø he settled on, even though he probably knew more about the city then she did. Liz thought about it a bit then smiled ├óÔé¼┼ôSure, let me get some stuff together├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall grinned as she walked away. This was easier then he thought it would be.
├óÔé¼┼ôAmber├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, looking at her friend. They both stood in the hall way. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhats on your mind?├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber asked. Liz licked her lips, looked over her shoulder and said to Amber ├óÔé¼┼ôI think Peter just asked me out├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôOn a date?├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber asked, incredulously. ├óÔé¼┼ôI think so├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. Amber looked a little shocked ├óÔé¼┼ôI never thought he would be so bold├óÔé¼┬Ø she said ├óÔé¼┼ôHe seemed to be in a perpetual sate of shock├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Liz remembered the fight he was in on Homeworld ├óÔé¼┼ôWell there was one time, when he was on Homeworld├óÔé¼┬Ø she said ├óÔé¼┼ôWhere he was in his element├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell of course├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said ├óÔé¼┼ôHe is a Lander├óÔé¼┬Ø
------------------------------
Peter woke up in whiteness. He looked around. White. White. White. White. White. White. He stood up, slowly, feeling as if he had slept for years. He looked off into the distance. More white. It stretched infinitely into the distance, and he couldn't see a horizon or a celling. Just white. ├óÔé¼┼ôHELLO!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted at the top of his lungs. There was no echo. No response. He looked around, the whiteness hurting his eyes.
Then he noticed his hands. They were metal and veined with tubes that were filled with blue fluid that moved up and down them. He flexed his hands, and felt the gears turn and the tubing flex. It felt better then he would of thought. Then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. It looked like a black speck in the distant horizon, flickering in and out of view. Peter knew that he would want to drink or eat something, but he decided to walk anyway.
He set of towards the flickering light.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe's taken the bait.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGood, right?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNothing is good or bad in these things├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDo you think he will reach Transcendence?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe'll have to find out├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhats the chances we will all be like that some day?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI don't know...do we deserve it?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Cheers!
The Marshall stepped into the acceleration pod, and looked at the technicians out side the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôAlright├óÔé¼┬Ø one of them said, closing the door and speaking through a com link, ├óÔé¼┼ôThis little baby will launch you towards the landing point at over three hundred gees├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall raised his eyebrow. That would liquidate even a Transcended. ├óÔé¼┼ôWont that crush my bones?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked, his mouth only slightly behind his actual voice. ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't worry. This thing has some revolutionary techs that we are going to release on the main stream, when humanity is more ready for the galaxy├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Marshall, who was almost certain that he knew all the future techs they had in the ERF when the pod was launched. He felt a slight weight drop over him, but it felt like 3 gees. But Europa vanished before he could even see it happen. The Marshall felt another sensation of fear when he looked at the speed monitor. Relative to the ERS, he was going at the speed of light. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts got to be a error├óÔé¼┬Ø he said to himself.
Peter was about to comment about the lack of a mouth on the clone, who looked like a replica of the Marshall, when a sword sprouted from one of the Replica's chest. His head lolled, his expression unchanged. Vlad looked at his trooper, but a brutal back kick snapped its spine and sent it sliding off of the sword, blood streaming through both holes. A low whine sounded from the vest as its user died. ├óÔé¼┼ôFight back!├óÔé¼┬Ø Vlad shouted, but it was too late. The Replica's raised their weapons, but Olivia had already cut one of their arms off. The Replica looked at his stump as the vest closed around it to stop the bleeding.
But Olivia smashed his small nose into his brain, killing him instantly. Then Olivia spun three hundred and sixty degree's, beheading the last Replica and ended with her sword nestled over Vlad's chest. ├óÔé¼┼ôOlivia├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said ├óÔé¼┼ôDon't kill him├óÔé¼┬Ø. Olivia, who had creped up silently behind the soldiers with out anyone noticing, relaxed minutely, her sword still right over the vampire's neck. ├óÔé¼┼ôFine fine├óÔé¼┬Ø Vlad said, raising his hands ├óÔé¼┼ôYour disciple's are better then my replica's├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood, now that we have settled that, go back home and try again├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said. Vlad tried to bow, but found it difficult with the sword over his throat.
Olivia grudgingly removed the sword, and Vlad bowed, turned and left. The surviving Replica, who seemed unconcerned with his missing arm, walked after him. Marco bowed slightly to Olivia as she sheathed her sword. Then he looked at Amber, Liz and Peter. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell are you doing down there?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked quizzically.
At dinner, later that night, Peter asked the question that had been bothering him for a long while. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho the hell is Vladimir?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked, holding his wine glass gingerly. Marco, who was wearing new not covered with blood clothes, nodded slowly. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe is my brother├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, putting his wine glass down. His wine was a bit redder then the other's. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd he is working on another system of training superhuman. I try to unlock the inner power of someone, while he tries to create outer power, with bioengineering├óÔé¼┬Ø. Marco grinned wryly ├óÔé¼┼ôHe spent so much time making his soldiers selfless, and now he is desperately trying to get them to want to live├óÔé¼┬Ø.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat are you going to do when you make a superhuman?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked, starting to eat her synthchicken. ├óÔé¼┼ôI really haven't given it much thought├óÔé¼┬Ø Marco said truthfully. The rest of the dinner past peacefully, with some random banter about things alien to Peter. References to PND and SPND and other things that were a bit beyond his knowledge In the end he asked to be excused early, saying he was tired after all the day's excitement.
Peter walked down the hall of Marco's mansion, and felt that the day had ended well. All in all. He didn't know what they were going to do, but he knew they would at least be able to think it out, plan and find out what the hell is going on. He found his gust chambers, opened the door and was surprised that a man was standing in the room, looking over the bed. ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you the cleaning service?├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked fairly. The man's back stiffened ├óÔé¼┼ôNo, I'm not the cleaning service├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThen why are you in my room├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked, starting to get annoyed. The man's voice was familiar, though. ├óÔé¼┼ôCause i happen to know you├óÔé¼┬Ø the man said, his back still to Peter.
The Marshall turned off the recording device in his hands and palmed it. Now that he had enough recored sounds of Peter's he could impute them into his vocal prosseser. He turned around.
Peter had enough time to gasp before the man wearing his face slammed a hypodermic into his neck. Peter hit the floor, unconscious. The Marshall closed the door and took out a small saw, some surgical tools and other more exotic devices. He looked at Peter's hands and gently, slowly, pulled off his own gloves. His metallic hands gleamed in the lights of the room.
They could have made replica's of Peter's hands, but they would make a completely perfect recreation of his last scan. That would not take into account the injures and imperfections that Peter had gotten. So he started the saw, and wished that anesthetics didn't work on Peter too. He cut through the bone after just a few moments, and quickly placed the two Cuff links on the wrists. The mechanical device's clamped down on the nerves and muscles and bone.
The Marshall then attached some cyberlinks into Peters stumps, then jerked his left hand off, revealing the cybernetic up link embedded into his arms. He then put Peter's augmented hands into his slots, and placed his hands into Peter's slots. Then he plastered Peter's mouth shut, and pressed the beacon on his belt, and clipped it to Peter's shirt.
Then he stepped out side of the room, and tried to assume his role. His mission would take time, so he might as well start getting used to it. He walked down the hall as the retrieval troops started to infiltrate Marco's mansion. There was only so much defenses a private citizen could put into a building, and so his troops entered the place and left with Peter's unconscious body.
├óÔé¼┼ôHi Liz├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, walking past the woman. Liz, who looked more...real in life then in the pictures he had seen, responded as she walked past him. The Marshall noticed that her skin color was minutely different then when he had seen her before. It was still black, just lighter. Her tattoo's remained the same.
The Marshall stopped as Liz went around the corner. Then he decided that he might as well integrate himself now rather then later. He ran after her ├óÔé¼┼ôHey wait!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted, his voice perfectly matching Peter's. His hands also matched Peter's, right down the the hangnail. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked, looked at him quizzically. The Marshall found himself at a loss for words. He had gotten a brain dump before shipping out, and knew everything the Overseer knew about the Banshee's and Peter.
├óÔé¼┼ôUh├óÔé¼┬Ø he gulped ├óÔé¼┼ôWould you like to...show me around Leviathan?├óÔé¼┬Ø he settled on, even though he probably knew more about the city then she did. Liz thought about it a bit then smiled ├óÔé¼┼ôSure, let me get some stuff together├óÔé¼┬Ø. The Marshall grinned as she walked away. This was easier then he thought it would be.
├óÔé¼┼ôAmber├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said, looking at her friend. They both stood in the hall way. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhats on your mind?├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber asked. Liz licked her lips, looked over her shoulder and said to Amber ├óÔé¼┼ôI think Peter just asked me out├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôOn a date?├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber asked, incredulously. ├óÔé¼┼ôI think so├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. Amber looked a little shocked ├óÔé¼┼ôI never thought he would be so bold├óÔé¼┬Ø she said ├óÔé¼┼ôHe seemed to be in a perpetual sate of shock├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Liz remembered the fight he was in on Homeworld ├óÔé¼┼ôWell there was one time, when he was on Homeworld├óÔé¼┬Ø she said ├óÔé¼┼ôWhere he was in his element├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell of course├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said ├óÔé¼┼ôHe is a Lander├óÔé¼┬Ø
------------------------------
Peter woke up in whiteness. He looked around. White. White. White. White. White. White. He stood up, slowly, feeling as if he had slept for years. He looked off into the distance. More white. It stretched infinitely into the distance, and he couldn't see a horizon or a celling. Just white. ├óÔé¼┼ôHELLO!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted at the top of his lungs. There was no echo. No response. He looked around, the whiteness hurting his eyes.
Then he noticed his hands. They were metal and veined with tubes that were filled with blue fluid that moved up and down them. He flexed his hands, and felt the gears turn and the tubing flex. It felt better then he would of thought. Then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. It looked like a black speck in the distant horizon, flickering in and out of view. Peter knew that he would want to drink or eat something, but he decided to walk anyway.
He set of towards the flickering light.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe's taken the bait.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGood, right?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNothing is good or bad in these things├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDo you think he will reach Transcendence?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe'll have to find out├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhats the chances we will all be like that some day?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI don't know...do we deserve it?├óÔé¼┬Ø
-
Archangel of Death
- Posts: 854
- Joined: 28 Jan 2005, 18:15
Peter lay, looking at the celling. Or what passed for a celling in Hell, as he took to calling his prison. The flickering dot of blackness had gotten slightly larger after what he had judged to be at least a day, mabey two. It had started to get hotter in Hell, and Peter was down to his undershirt and pants. His other clothes were dribbled in a line of stark color that stretched behind him like breadcrumbs.
He decided that he might as well get up and he stood. There was something different from when he had last went to sleep. Sleeping, he found to his absolute lack of surprise, was hard in Hell. So he had pulled his shirt up and over his head and now he realized his foot was gone. Peter looked down and saw a mechanical replacement of his foot, looking somewhat like his hand. And like his hand it presented a extream rush of sensation.
When he had first actually touched something with his hand, Peter had been swamped by emotions. He could feel his skin, the exact heat in Celsius, Kelvin and three other less known measures of heat. He could feel his bone thickness, his heart beat and pretty much every other biological thing he would want to know about what his skin and the bone, muscles and nerves below it. He detected what could mature into skin cancer and the number of a 12.1 percent probability of it occurring floated into his mind unbidden.
So he ignored the possible tumor and the new foot, and started to walk. His new right foot detected the substance the floor was made up of and reported it back as a complete lack of anything. It felt odd, but he managed to ignore it for the time. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, walking around to Peter's front and smiling slowly ├óÔé¼┼ôHow dose it feel to be less human?├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter shoved himself aside and kept walking.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou can't ignore me that easily!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted after himself, running after him. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts fine├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter snapped back as his still fully human self caught up with him. ├óÔé¼┼ôLier!├óÔé¼┬Ø his other self said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou love it. You love the new parts, don't you? Better then sex├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter shoved his other self aside, harder then he had meant to. Peter crashed to the ground, skidded a bit on the slick surface as Peter walked past, his metallic foot clinking on the ground.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo that is├óÔé¼┬Ø his other self shouted at the diminishing figure of Peter ├óÔé¼┼ôYour just going to leave me behind!├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter kept walking.
├óÔé¼┼ôInteresting├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHmm?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôSubject 2 has left our simulacrum behind├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat IS interesting...Subject two doesn't even have a cortical node yet├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHe is liking the implants...i saw we accelerate the program, mabey add him some more...stimulating company├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe woman in the red dress?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe woman in the red dress├óÔé¼┬Ø
The entire evening had grated on the Marshall. He had tried to act charming, gently wooing Montoya. He had tried ever subtle cue in the brain dump, not wanting to tip the woman off. It had been as challenging as commanding a starship, if not more so, and he wasn't to sure if his efforts were fruitful. So he went to his room, went through his ritual of hygiene.
First he took off Peters hands one by one and cleaned them methodically. Then he stepped into the shower and washed himself. Then he stood in the bathroom and strapped his various weapons to his body, ranging from the knifes he had in his ankle holster, two throwing disks on his shoulder blades and a single nerve dart under his left wrist. Then he got dressed, made sure his plastic undetectable weapons were impossible to see through his clothes.
Liz got home and decided to have a cold...cold cold cold shower. She stepped out of the shower, not much cleaner but more under control, got dressed and looked at her self in the mirror. ├óÔé¼┼ôOne date and I want to fuck his brains out├óÔé¼┬Ø she said to her self and cupped her head in her hands. ├óÔé¼┼ôGod I'm flaky├óÔé¼┬Ø she moaned.
She stood up and ran her fingers through her hair ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm sure men don't like women throwing themselves at them├óÔé¼┬Ø she said to herself ├óÔé¼┼ôSo lets act...nonchalant├óÔé¼┬Ø.
The Marshall walked down the hall and passed Montoya in the hall. ├óÔé¼┼ôhi├óÔé¼┬Ø she said and kept walking past. damn he thought this must be harder then i thought. Liz went around the corner and mentally smacked herself not THAT nonchalant she thought. She kept walking though and finally wound up in her room again. ├óÔé¼┼ôI've got to think this through, better├óÔé¼┬Ø she muttered.
The Marshall knew he shouldn't appear too forward, or she might be repulsed. And in his mission statement it was emphasized that he must integrate himself into the group. And the psych analysis of Liz showed that she was easier to rule with her passions. So he planed to subtly egg her on, but in the mean time he should try...bonding with the others.
├óÔé¼┼ôCome in├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said coolly, still feeling more then a little angry. The door to her room opened as she walked over to welcome who she assumed was going to be Liz. Peter was standing out side. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said even cooler. ├óÔé¼┼ôIs this a bad time?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôYes, actually├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said. ├óÔé¼┼ôSorry├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, looking a little scared, actually. Amber pressed the close button on the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe'd better be scared├óÔé¼┬Ø she said and punched a pillow on the bed.
In the end the Marshall ended up discussing Marco's plan to create super humans for a few hours. After he left he knew he had to send some messages to ERS about some of Marco's ideas, and it was coming close to the night time of Leviathan. The Marshall walked to his room, stepped inside and flopped onto his bed. ├óÔé¼┼ôI think I've made a good start├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Owens knew there was an impostor in there midst. Unfortunately he couldn't do anything. No one would believe him. No one would even listen to him. No one even knew he wasn't still on the Persephone. So he watched and waited, and hoped that when push came to shove, he could do what he needed to do.
Olivia was worried. She was sure that someone had broken into the mansion early the last day, but she couldn't pin it on either the Replica's or someone else. She leaved through the files and records of the last two days, but some of them were scrambled by the explosion. She leaved through the files one last time and shoved them away in frustration, using her fingers to push them away on the touch sensitive screen she was using.
She then put her feet up on her desk and called up the specs on the Persephone. Such a beautiful ship. She examined any and all escape route's, hidy holes and other places she might someday need. She never thought for a moment that she would not be leaving with the Persephone. It was her ship.
The next day dawned, the fairy lights if the city at night turning into the glow of the day. The Marshall marveled at how sheer chaos created patterns. ├óÔé¼┼ôIf it is one thing humanity has done right...its there cites├óÔé¼┬Ø. He was standing in a 'balcony' of zero gravity in the center of the mansion, were the celling and the floor were hyperdiamond.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat was that?├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya asked, climbing into the area from the entrance hatch and kicking off from the floor. ├óÔé¼┼ôI was just admiring the view├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said, gesturing the city ├óÔé¼┼ôIts better with you though├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. Montoya raised her eyebrow ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean in the city├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said, timing the 'correction' perfectly. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell you only got to see a part of the city├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said, grinning. The Marshall grinned back, trying to make it looked genuine. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat else is there?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is this place?├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall asked, looking around the building Montoya had showed him into. He already knew it was a cyberbar, but a Lander wouldn't really know about that. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is a cyberbar├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said ├óÔé¼┼ôLets rent a room├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôRoom?├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall asked, veining ignorance. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou'll see├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya grinned.
The 'room' was a small closet, where both of them could barely fit. Liz wondered how many people had used it for a secret rendezvouses, then decided to not think about doing it her self. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo you plug that into the headset├óÔé¼┬Ø she said, demonstrating. Peter looked somewhat abashed, but he managed to fumble the helmet on.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo what do you want...fantasy, past or Sci-Fi?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôFantasy├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, somewhat bemusedly. Liz typed in the command code and the helmets activated.
The Marshall looked around the trite setting, trying to hide his disappointment. It was a simplistic illusion, he noticed. The tree's looked fake, the sky was a paint job and the wind was a little too fake feeling. Not like the sim's at the ERS. ├óÔé¼┼ôWow├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, looking around ├óÔé¼┼ôIs this real?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôNo it works off the same principle as the holochamber you used├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said. The Marshall, not sure about what holochamber Peter had used, chuckled ambiguously. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo can we move?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôNope├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said ├óÔé¼┼ôBut we can talk, look around and lie down├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter slowly sat down, and felt the grass ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is amazing├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, looking around again. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, but its really expensive├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow much time do we have in here?├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôAbout├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz checked her watch ├óÔé¼┼ôFive minuets├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said ├óÔé¼┼ôLets make use of the time we have├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Marshall decided to be a little more overt this time. ├óÔé¼┼ôTurn around├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. Montoya turned around slowly, possible wondering what he was about to do.
Please please please please please Liz thought as she turned around and closed her eyes. Peter started to massage her shoulders. She wasn't quite disappointed, but was expecting something more...dramatic.
The Marshall knew he shouldn't do too well at anything, but he couldn't resist trying some flourishes he knew from simply knowing human anatomy.
Liz gasped ├óÔé¼┼ôThat felt good├óÔé¼┬Ø she murmured, getting a little sleepy.
The attendant of the cyberbar knocked on the door of Booth 91. ├óÔé¼┼ôYo yo├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôTimes up five minuets ago├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôCould you help me in here?├óÔé¼┬Ø the muffled response came. The attendant opened the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôI can't get this thing off├óÔé¼┬Ø the man said, as his hands were busy holding the woman that had come in with him, who was fast asleep.
He decided that he might as well get up and he stood. There was something different from when he had last went to sleep. Sleeping, he found to his absolute lack of surprise, was hard in Hell. So he had pulled his shirt up and over his head and now he realized his foot was gone. Peter looked down and saw a mechanical replacement of his foot, looking somewhat like his hand. And like his hand it presented a extream rush of sensation.
When he had first actually touched something with his hand, Peter had been swamped by emotions. He could feel his skin, the exact heat in Celsius, Kelvin and three other less known measures of heat. He could feel his bone thickness, his heart beat and pretty much every other biological thing he would want to know about what his skin and the bone, muscles and nerves below it. He detected what could mature into skin cancer and the number of a 12.1 percent probability of it occurring floated into his mind unbidden.
So he ignored the possible tumor and the new foot, and started to walk. His new right foot detected the substance the floor was made up of and reported it back as a complete lack of anything. It felt odd, but he managed to ignore it for the time. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, walking around to Peter's front and smiling slowly ├óÔé¼┼ôHow dose it feel to be less human?├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter shoved himself aside and kept walking.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou can't ignore me that easily!├óÔé¼┬Ø he shouted after himself, running after him. ├óÔé¼┼ôIts fine├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter snapped back as his still fully human self caught up with him. ├óÔé¼┼ôLier!├óÔé¼┬Ø his other self said ├óÔé¼┼ôYou love it. You love the new parts, don't you? Better then sex├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter shoved his other self aside, harder then he had meant to. Peter crashed to the ground, skidded a bit on the slick surface as Peter walked past, his metallic foot clinking on the ground.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo that is├óÔé¼┬Ø his other self shouted at the diminishing figure of Peter ├óÔé¼┼ôYour just going to leave me behind!├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter kept walking.
├óÔé¼┼ôInteresting├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHmm?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôSubject 2 has left our simulacrum behind├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat IS interesting...Subject two doesn't even have a cortical node yet├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHe is liking the implants...i saw we accelerate the program, mabey add him some more...stimulating company├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe woman in the red dress?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe woman in the red dress├óÔé¼┬Ø
The entire evening had grated on the Marshall. He had tried to act charming, gently wooing Montoya. He had tried ever subtle cue in the brain dump, not wanting to tip the woman off. It had been as challenging as commanding a starship, if not more so, and he wasn't to sure if his efforts were fruitful. So he went to his room, went through his ritual of hygiene.
First he took off Peters hands one by one and cleaned them methodically. Then he stepped into the shower and washed himself. Then he stood in the bathroom and strapped his various weapons to his body, ranging from the knifes he had in his ankle holster, two throwing disks on his shoulder blades and a single nerve dart under his left wrist. Then he got dressed, made sure his plastic undetectable weapons were impossible to see through his clothes.
Liz got home and decided to have a cold...cold cold cold shower. She stepped out of the shower, not much cleaner but more under control, got dressed and looked at her self in the mirror. ├óÔé¼┼ôOne date and I want to fuck his brains out├óÔé¼┬Ø she said to her self and cupped her head in her hands. ├óÔé¼┼ôGod I'm flaky├óÔé¼┬Ø she moaned.
She stood up and ran her fingers through her hair ├óÔé¼┼ôI'm sure men don't like women throwing themselves at them├óÔé¼┬Ø she said to herself ├óÔé¼┼ôSo lets act...nonchalant├óÔé¼┬Ø.
The Marshall walked down the hall and passed Montoya in the hall. ├óÔé¼┼ôhi├óÔé¼┬Ø she said and kept walking past. damn he thought this must be harder then i thought. Liz went around the corner and mentally smacked herself not THAT nonchalant she thought. She kept walking though and finally wound up in her room again. ├óÔé¼┼ôI've got to think this through, better├óÔé¼┬Ø she muttered.
The Marshall knew he shouldn't appear too forward, or she might be repulsed. And in his mission statement it was emphasized that he must integrate himself into the group. And the psych analysis of Liz showed that she was easier to rule with her passions. So he planed to subtly egg her on, but in the mean time he should try...bonding with the others.
├óÔé¼┼ôCome in├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said coolly, still feeling more then a little angry. The door to her room opened as she walked over to welcome who she assumed was going to be Liz. Peter was standing out side. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said even cooler. ├óÔé¼┼ôIs this a bad time?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôYes, actually├óÔé¼┬Ø Amber said. ├óÔé¼┼ôSorry├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, looking a little scared, actually. Amber pressed the close button on the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe'd better be scared├óÔé¼┬Ø she said and punched a pillow on the bed.
In the end the Marshall ended up discussing Marco's plan to create super humans for a few hours. After he left he knew he had to send some messages to ERS about some of Marco's ideas, and it was coming close to the night time of Leviathan. The Marshall walked to his room, stepped inside and flopped onto his bed. ├óÔé¼┼ôI think I've made a good start├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Owens knew there was an impostor in there midst. Unfortunately he couldn't do anything. No one would believe him. No one would even listen to him. No one even knew he wasn't still on the Persephone. So he watched and waited, and hoped that when push came to shove, he could do what he needed to do.
Olivia was worried. She was sure that someone had broken into the mansion early the last day, but she couldn't pin it on either the Replica's or someone else. She leaved through the files and records of the last two days, but some of them were scrambled by the explosion. She leaved through the files one last time and shoved them away in frustration, using her fingers to push them away on the touch sensitive screen she was using.
She then put her feet up on her desk and called up the specs on the Persephone. Such a beautiful ship. She examined any and all escape route's, hidy holes and other places she might someday need. She never thought for a moment that she would not be leaving with the Persephone. It was her ship.
The next day dawned, the fairy lights if the city at night turning into the glow of the day. The Marshall marveled at how sheer chaos created patterns. ├óÔé¼┼ôIf it is one thing humanity has done right...its there cites├óÔé¼┬Ø. He was standing in a 'balcony' of zero gravity in the center of the mansion, were the celling and the floor were hyperdiamond.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat was that?├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya asked, climbing into the area from the entrance hatch and kicking off from the floor. ├óÔé¼┼ôI was just admiring the view├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said, gesturing the city ├óÔé¼┼ôIts better with you though├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. Montoya raised her eyebrow ├óÔé¼┼ôI mean in the city├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall said, timing the 'correction' perfectly. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell you only got to see a part of the city├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said, grinning. The Marshall grinned back, trying to make it looked genuine. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat else is there?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat is this place?├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall asked, looking around the building Montoya had showed him into. He already knew it was a cyberbar, but a Lander wouldn't really know about that. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is a cyberbar├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said ├óÔé¼┼ôLets rent a room├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôRoom?├óÔé¼┬Ø the Marshall asked, veining ignorance. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou'll see├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya grinned.
The 'room' was a small closet, where both of them could barely fit. Liz wondered how many people had used it for a secret rendezvouses, then decided to not think about doing it her self. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo you plug that into the headset├óÔé¼┬Ø she said, demonstrating. Peter looked somewhat abashed, but he managed to fumble the helmet on.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo what do you want...fantasy, past or Sci-Fi?├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôFantasy├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said, somewhat bemusedly. Liz typed in the command code and the helmets activated.
The Marshall looked around the trite setting, trying to hide his disappointment. It was a simplistic illusion, he noticed. The tree's looked fake, the sky was a paint job and the wind was a little too fake feeling. Not like the sim's at the ERS. ├óÔé¼┼ôWow├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, looking around ├óÔé¼┼ôIs this real?├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôNo it works off the same principle as the holochamber you used├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said. The Marshall, not sure about what holochamber Peter had used, chuckled ambiguously. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo can we move?├óÔé¼┬Ø he asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôNope├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said ├óÔé¼┼ôBut we can talk, look around and lie down├óÔé¼┬Ø. Peter slowly sat down, and felt the grass ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is amazing├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, looking around again. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, but its really expensive├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz said. ├óÔé¼┼ôHow much time do we have in here?├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter asked. ├óÔé¼┼ôAbout├óÔé¼┬Ø Liz checked her watch ├óÔé¼┼ôFive minuets├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell├óÔé¼┬Ø Peter said ├óÔé¼┼ôLets make use of the time we have├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Marshall decided to be a little more overt this time. ├óÔé¼┼ôTurn around├óÔé¼┬Ø he said. Montoya turned around slowly, possible wondering what he was about to do.
Please please please please please Liz thought as she turned around and closed her eyes. Peter started to massage her shoulders. She wasn't quite disappointed, but was expecting something more...dramatic.
The Marshall knew he shouldn't do too well at anything, but he couldn't resist trying some flourishes he knew from simply knowing human anatomy.
Liz gasped ├óÔé¼┼ôThat felt good├óÔé¼┬Ø she murmured, getting a little sleepy.
The attendant of the cyberbar knocked on the door of Booth 91. ├óÔé¼┼ôYo yo├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôTimes up five minuets ago├óÔé¼┬Ø. ├óÔé¼┼ôCould you help me in here?├óÔé¼┬Ø the muffled response came. The attendant opened the door. ├óÔé¼┼ôI can't get this thing off├óÔé¼┬Ø the man said, as his hands were busy holding the woman that had come in with him, who was fast asleep.
As some of you may know... i have the writing version of ADD. I will write something and go ├óÔé¼┼ôWait i just had a cool idea├óÔé¼┬Ø like a archaeologist in the post apocalypse. Unfortunately there is no room for a archaeologist in a high fantasy novel. So i wrote a new story at the same time...and well, to just throw out a teaser please answer this question and giggle with glee!
Now what has two sides, a big war, clones and robots...
Now what has two sides, a big war, clones and robots...
