Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Though she’s never minded caves themselves, Reiya finds this sub-subterranean landscape incredibly bleak. She listens to her teammates with more experience and more techno-savvy do their thing, keeping a sharp eye. She smiles faintly when Akela tries astral perception; she doesn’t need it to know there’s nothing of that kind here.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The opening whine of the motor spinning up sends a jolt of electricity through the ork that sets every hair on their body standing fully upright. Their legs piston, propelling them backward behind cover as Mick's body dives them out of the way on pure reflex.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick tucks into a roll as they land, escaping behind the corner. Fortunately, the ork's preternatural reflexes allowed them to act before the turret could fire. Now safely out of the line of fire, Mick can hear a strange clicking sound emanating from the turret.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
On second thought, the loneliness was better.
Surely, there has to be some perfectly logical explanation for that crawling feeling Mouse is experiencing. She hasn’t even entered the host yet.
The most likely scenario, from her optic, is that she’s losing her mind. Those terrifying moments deprived of a network connection must have tripped some neural circuit, and now her anxiety fueled imagination is inventing threats out of empty space and the peripheral motion from the cams. At least that seems like a far more plausible explanation than the alternative, which is that the Imperials paid for a spider.
Or it's matrix ghosts.
Madness, then ‘ghosts’, then some kind of unpaid intern for the regime, then an actual salaried monitor. In that order.
Unless…
A burst of static jolts across the screen of the persona’s CRT “head”, the digitalized form curling inward defensively, hands grasping at it in a very human gesture of sudden terror. Back on the surface, beyond her own awareness, there’s a hitch in her breath, a pale tint to her metahuman face that surpasses her usual pallor from a life spent avoiding sunlight. She has no idea how long it takes to regather her composure- no more than mere seconds in meatspace, but what feels like an eternity measured in electrical current and neural impulses. Still, lacking a real world ‘ground’ through which to ground herself or breaths to count, she turns to the next best alternative: system diagnostics.
Status updates stream across her gaze in a cold, terminal-style font, and the moment she sees her data output, she realizes in a flash of horror that she’s been running loud. Has she been that fragging visible since her last reboot? That’s some skiddy -level novice drek. Of course, there's no time to waste kicking herself now- with the toss of yet another smoke bomb, her persona’s signal fades back into the noise.
As data continues to filter in from the system diagnostic, she can feel herself lean inward, as though by physically pressing herself closer to the entirely mental projection of the data, she might be better able to see any code out of place… or the subtlest of MARKs.
(( > Knowledge Matrix Threats in case there’s a more sane, less world-shattering explanation for the ‘watched’ feeling that I as a player am just blanking on.
> Switch to Running Silent > Hide
> Matrix Perception on self to see if she’s been marked - if so, she’ll swap out Exploit for Paintjob,Toolbox for Decryption and get scrubbing.
> Otherwise, if she thinks she’s clear, then finally ID what those icons are that she has marked. Y’know, in case they’re anything relevant. ;) ))
Surely, there has to be some perfectly logical explanation for that crawling feeling Mouse is experiencing. She hasn’t even entered the host yet.
The most likely scenario, from her optic, is that she’s losing her mind. Those terrifying moments deprived of a network connection must have tripped some neural circuit, and now her anxiety fueled imagination is inventing threats out of empty space and the peripheral motion from the cams. At least that seems like a far more plausible explanation than the alternative, which is that the Imperials paid for a spider.
Or it's matrix ghosts.
Madness, then ‘ghosts’, then some kind of unpaid intern for the regime, then an actual salaried monitor. In that order.
Unless…
A burst of static jolts across the screen of the persona’s CRT “head”, the digitalized form curling inward defensively, hands grasping at it in a very human gesture of sudden terror. Back on the surface, beyond her own awareness, there’s a hitch in her breath, a pale tint to her metahuman face that surpasses her usual pallor from a life spent avoiding sunlight. She has no idea how long it takes to regather her composure- no more than mere seconds in meatspace, but what feels like an eternity measured in electrical current and neural impulses. Still, lacking a real world ‘ground’ through which to ground herself or breaths to count, she turns to the next best alternative: system diagnostics.
Status updates stream across her gaze in a cold, terminal-style font, and the moment she sees her data output, she realizes in a flash of horror that she’s been running loud. Has she been that fragging visible since her last reboot? That’s some skiddy -level novice drek. Of course, there's no time to waste kicking herself now- with the toss of yet another smoke bomb, her persona’s signal fades back into the noise.
As data continues to filter in from the system diagnostic, she can feel herself lean inward, as though by physically pressing herself closer to the entirely mental projection of the data, she might be better able to see any code out of place… or the subtlest of MARKs.
Loadout
> Switch to Running Silent > Hide
> Matrix Perception on self to see if she’s been marked - if so, she’ll swap out Exploit for Paintjob,Toolbox for Decryption and get scrubbing.
> Otherwise, if she thinks she’s clear, then finally ID what those icons are that she has marked. Y’know, in case they’re anything relevant. ;) ))
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick catches their breath, their heart jackhammering so hard in their chest that the ork can see the satchel positioned at their sternum bouncing. Pressed flat against the wall, Mick calls out to the team, "Anybody here got the cure to the common minigun?"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Dice
Mouse's persona throws down a ninjutsu smoke bomb and her deck transitions to silent operation. Once she's satisfied that she's well hidden, she begins scouring her own firewall. There's definitely some odd code in her logs, but nothing that she construes as an intrusion attempt. Chocking the erratic data up to a glitch, she continues the self-analysis.
There are no marks on her persona. A few exploratory pings only return the same icons as before. Still cautious, Mouse emerges from hiding and flips the devices over. The simple icon-- judging from its code-- must be a security camera. While she only has rudimentary guest access to the more complex device, she does nab a glance at the firmware: ARES T-599-X SENTRY.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The decker’s meatspace body slides back against the wall: a slow, fluid motion that could easily be dismissed as a byproduct of limbs gone slack, but in truth, is closer to the buckling of muscles under a staggering weight.
Cold facts intermingle with old scars and urban legends in a psychological churn that seizes the decker’s mental bandwidth. In any other scenario, Mouse would have been comforted by the process of distilling these conflicting inputs into their basic facts and likely explanations. Instead, her analysis and deduction have led her to one disquieting conclusion: that the figments of her nightmares are in fact real.
Just as a sounding alarm can break through into the altered space of a dream, Mick’s words cut cleanly through Mouse’s mental static- the familiar voice, though rendered tinny and distant from the feeds, a tether to objective reality. “MINIGUN?” The thought’s almost bleary, though mercifully, the decker’s speech software renders it just as clearly and unemotionally as any other. “LIKE AN ARES T-599-X?”
This seems as good of a reminder of the more pressing task at hand, particularly the icons in her grasp. She raises the corresponding icon to her monitor’s ‘gaze’, simultaneously tagging its physical counterpart with a corresponding ARO highlight, and lets out a small, electrical click of feigned judgment. “GUNS DON’T NEED TO BE 'CURED.' I’M SURE IT’S PERFECTLY FINE THE WAY IT IS.“
She turns the complex icon over in her hands, as though it were a puzzle to be solved, and highlights the flows of data outward, thread-like, to its master host. “HAVE YOU TRIED MAKING FRIENDS WITH IT? INTRODUCE YOURSELF. MAYBE THROW IT A COMPLIMENT OR TWO.”
(( > Enter Host.
> Hack on the Fly again- aiming for 3 marks ideally? Though I suppose I can pop back out if I screw that up massively.
> If I can get 3 marks, Garbage-In-Garbage-Out to swap its automated recognition of Friendlies vs Hostiles
> Then perception(?) to try and ID some kind of master camera bank from the one I have(?) ))
Cold facts intermingle with old scars and urban legends in a psychological churn that seizes the decker’s mental bandwidth. In any other scenario, Mouse would have been comforted by the process of distilling these conflicting inputs into their basic facts and likely explanations. Instead, her analysis and deduction have led her to one disquieting conclusion: that the figments of her nightmares are in fact real.
Just as a sounding alarm can break through into the altered space of a dream, Mick’s words cut cleanly through Mouse’s mental static- the familiar voice, though rendered tinny and distant from the feeds, a tether to objective reality. “MINIGUN?” The thought’s almost bleary, though mercifully, the decker’s speech software renders it just as clearly and unemotionally as any other. “LIKE AN ARES T-599-X?”
This seems as good of a reminder of the more pressing task at hand, particularly the icons in her grasp. She raises the corresponding icon to her monitor’s ‘gaze’, simultaneously tagging its physical counterpart with a corresponding ARO highlight, and lets out a small, electrical click of feigned judgment. “GUNS DON’T NEED TO BE 'CURED.' I’M SURE IT’S PERFECTLY FINE THE WAY IT IS.“
She turns the complex icon over in her hands, as though it were a puzzle to be solved, and highlights the flows of data outward, thread-like, to its master host. “HAVE YOU TRIED MAKING FRIENDS WITH IT? INTRODUCE YOURSELF. MAYBE THROW IT A COMPLIMENT OR TWO.”
(( > Enter Host.
> Hack on the Fly again- aiming for 3 marks ideally? Though I suppose I can pop back out if I screw that up massively.
> If I can get 3 marks, Garbage-In-Garbage-Out to swap its automated recognition of Friendlies vs Hostiles
> Then perception(?) to try and ID some kind of master camera bank from the one I have(?) ))
Loadout
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Dice
Wasting no time, Mouse reaches out towards the sentry's icon and unleashes another attack. Once again the device proves resilient, but eventually yields to her exploits and grants her another mark.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Dice
In the middle of this effort, the spot-light swings directly over her and sticks to her persona. A trill, digital siren begins to keen. The host has been alerted to her presence.
Mouse doubles down, throwing out every attack she has. Finally the sentry yields completely, granting her a third mark and recognizing her as administrator. Her relief is short lived though, as a cloud of pixels materializes and begins approaching her-- IC!
She reaches out toward the sentry's icon. She can act before it attacks... she's sure she can.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The odd inquiry from Mick is enough to pull Yung out of his astral gaze. Minigun cure? "Uhh, what the frag does that mean?" He asks, cautiously stepping across the threshold into the alien underground facility.
"Seems odd to me that dime a dozen contractor knew about this place, given how untouched it seems to be." He sets the doctor down for a moment, propping him against the wall of the hallway. He takes a cursory glance at the doctor's wounds, attempting to assess whether carrying him around is worsening his state. Unfortunately field medical diagnostics is not something Yung had any experience doing.
He breifly stands, tilting his head to the side to stretch his trapeseus while rolling his should in a counter clockwise motion several times. He peers down toward Mick, noting their hightened state of anxiety as the ork remains crouched with their back against the wall.
"Derek homie, que pasa? You really facing down a barrel?" His posture changes immediately, feeling a sense of tension in their eyes. Yung shifts his stance, moving himself in a defensive stance astride the doctor, nearer to Mick. He waits half crouching in anticipation of some unknown enemy.
After a few moments with no evidence of an impending threat, Yung relaxes his stance before turning back towards the doctor who still sits slumped against the wall. He once again puts his hands under the man's armpits, hoisting him aloft and over his should. "Given the new threat, we still got a path forward? Clock's ticking."
"Seems odd to me that dime a dozen contractor knew about this place, given how untouched it seems to be." He sets the doctor down for a moment, propping him against the wall of the hallway. He takes a cursory glance at the doctor's wounds, attempting to assess whether carrying him around is worsening his state. Unfortunately field medical diagnostics is not something Yung had any experience doing.
He breifly stands, tilting his head to the side to stretch his trapeseus while rolling his should in a counter clockwise motion several times. He peers down toward Mick, noting their hightened state of anxiety as the ork remains crouched with their back against the wall.
"Derek homie, que pasa? You really facing down a barrel?" His posture changes immediately, feeling a sense of tension in their eyes. Yung shifts his stance, moving himself in a defensive stance astride the doctor, nearer to Mick. He waits half crouching in anticipation of some unknown enemy.
After a few moments with no evidence of an impending threat, Yung relaxes his stance before turning back towards the doctor who still sits slumped against the wall. He once again puts his hands under the man's armpits, hoisting him aloft and over his should. "Given the new threat, we still got a path forward? Clock's ticking."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mouse can practically hear the exclamation point as the Patrol IC scans her persona’s totally-not-a-burglar disguise. She holds up a finger toward the materializing IC, which… given this regime’s level of respect for human rights, is undoubtedly dripping with biofeedback protocols, if not worse. <<...Chotto matte, kudasai.>>
With a flick of her hand, she flips open the script containing the sentry’s core functions, and looks for a quick place to make one quick little tweak. [Targets = NULL;] It may be a bit of a kludge- certainly not the elegant solution she was hoping for, but there’ll be time for fancier tricks when she’s escaped the wombo-combo of IC and her own personal demons.
(( Okay, okay. I’ll be good and just do one Edit-File attempt and Exit Host. ))
With a flick of her hand, she flips open the script containing the sentry’s core functions, and looks for a quick place to make one quick little tweak. [Targets = NULL;] It may be a bit of a kludge- certainly not the elegant solution she was hoping for, but there’ll be time for fancier tricks when she’s escaped the wombo-combo of IC and her own personal demons.
(( Okay, okay. I’ll be good and just do one Edit-File attempt and Exit Host. ))
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mouse works furiously, trying to ignore the digital death streaking towards her. She assigns the new variable and writes the file. The IC is upon her. Milliseconds seem to stretch out forever as her thoughts race. Her adrenaline is spiking.
She saves the file and jacks out, just as an intense heat flares against her cheek. Consciousness returns like whip-lash, and she finds herself staring up at the wall of the underground corridor.
She saves the file and jacks out, just as an intense heat flares against her cheek. Consciousness returns like whip-lash, and she finds herself staring up at the wall of the underground corridor.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
She doesn’t even remember giving the command to drop hotsim. Rationally, she must have, but it was never a conscious decision of hers: merely the reflexes of her primordial reptile brain, forged through ancient traumas and the self-preservation instincts of a prey animal. It’s an intuitive understanding that should those things catch her, they’ll drag her under the foundations, and won’t let go until the thrashing stops. Not this time. Not again.
The voices of her teammates trickle into her awareness as she surfaces into silenced AR, eyes fluttering open as though she were jolted out of REM sleep. One sensation at a time, she takes stock of her surroundings: the cold tile beneath her, her own jagged breaths, her teammates nearby, the prickling sensation of a cold sweat. Fresh out of the realer-than-real, meatspace feels oddly stifled and toylike, as though she were merely watching a trid of herself.
She carefully rights herself from her slouched position, forcing a casual demeanor as she brushes some imaginary dust from her clothing. “I HAVE SPOKEN TO THE SENTRY IN QUESTION. IT IS NOW RECONSIDERING ITS CAREER PATH.” Of course, her poker face is no match for the surge of adrenaline coursing through her. She can’t snark away the pounding of her heart.
“THE BAD NEWS IS, THAT HOST GOT REAL HOT, REAL FAST. THE FASCISTS MUST HAVE DROPPED SOME SERIOUS CASH INTO ITS DEFENSES.” Her face goes wan, brow furrows, as yet another uncomfortable revelation unfolds from this. “…WHICH MEANS THAT WHATEVER IS DOWN HERE, THEY CONSIDER IT A GREATER SECURITY RISK THAN THEIR MOST DANGEROUS PRISONERS. THEY’RE WILLING TO PAY ANY COST TO KEEP IT HIDDEN.” A tremor courses down her spine, and she folds her arms across her chest, biting the inside of one cheek in thought. “OR CONTAINED.”
Mouse’s gaze turns distant as the words escape, and she rolls her weight onto the balls of her feet in obvious discomfort. After a beat of quiet, her attention snaps back to her team with a startling quickness. “ALSO, THERE ARE CAMERAS.” With a flip of her hand, Mouse moves to both open and share the feed from her marked icon. “AT LEAST 5 IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY. WE SHOULD PROBABLY CHECK ON THOSE BEFORE WE ROLL OUT EN -MASSE.” For a decker who’s normally detail-obsessed to the point of neurosis, such an oversight is clearly out of character, to say the least.
The voices of her teammates trickle into her awareness as she surfaces into silenced AR, eyes fluttering open as though she were jolted out of REM sleep. One sensation at a time, she takes stock of her surroundings: the cold tile beneath her, her own jagged breaths, her teammates nearby, the prickling sensation of a cold sweat. Fresh out of the realer-than-real, meatspace feels oddly stifled and toylike, as though she were merely watching a trid of herself.
She carefully rights herself from her slouched position, forcing a casual demeanor as she brushes some imaginary dust from her clothing. “I HAVE SPOKEN TO THE SENTRY IN QUESTION. IT IS NOW RECONSIDERING ITS CAREER PATH.” Of course, her poker face is no match for the surge of adrenaline coursing through her. She can’t snark away the pounding of her heart.
“THE BAD NEWS IS, THAT HOST GOT REAL HOT, REAL FAST. THE FASCISTS MUST HAVE DROPPED SOME SERIOUS CASH INTO ITS DEFENSES.” Her face goes wan, brow furrows, as yet another uncomfortable revelation unfolds from this. “…WHICH MEANS THAT WHATEVER IS DOWN HERE, THEY CONSIDER IT A GREATER SECURITY RISK THAN THEIR MOST DANGEROUS PRISONERS. THEY’RE WILLING TO PAY ANY COST TO KEEP IT HIDDEN.” A tremor courses down her spine, and she folds her arms across her chest, biting the inside of one cheek in thought. “OR CONTAINED.”
Mouse’s gaze turns distant as the words escape, and she rolls her weight onto the balls of her feet in obvious discomfort. After a beat of quiet, her attention snaps back to her team with a startling quickness. “ALSO, THERE ARE CAMERAS.” With a flip of her hand, Mouse moves to both open and share the feed from her marked icon. “AT LEAST 5 IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY. WE SHOULD PROBABLY CHECK ON THOSE BEFORE WE ROLL OUT EN -MASSE.” For a decker who’s normally detail-obsessed to the point of neurosis, such an oversight is clearly out of character, to say the least.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The feed from the camera winks into view, displaying a corridor junction from a fish-eye angle. On one side of the junction stands Mick, looking tense and poised for action. Their head is cocked back toward the team. Opposite Mick, in the opposing corridor, is the sentry. The floor tile under which it was hidden has split in two and folded down either side of the drone. The Ares T-599 is now balanced on a set of multi-jointed appendages, lending it the impression of a fat, silvery spider with a mini-gun for a face.
Mouse quickly gathers that had she dallied, the sentry drone would have rounded the corner on Mick. But, as it stands, the deadly little device is simply idling, now bereft of any directives.
Mouse quickly gathers that had she dallied, the sentry drone would have rounded the corner on Mick. But, as it stands, the deadly little device is simply idling, now bereft of any directives.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
A look of puzzlement dances across Yung’s face as Mouse delves into an explanation of everything that transpired in the past few seconds. Thankfully, because he’s wearing a mask, none of the crew are any the wiser. “That some kinda spiderbot? You shut that down?” He clicks his tongue “Damn girl.” then lets out a low whistle in admiration.
“But I don’t think this Nuyen came from the regime that is falling apart at the seams. What’s the name that keeps popping up? Ares.” Yung draws his sidearm looking at the name engraved below the barrel. “If this is a greater security risk, then that might explain the lack of Kuroikaze upstairs.”
He lets out yet another sigh, a signal of consent to the difficulty of the path forward. “Well, we better get movin one way or another, y’all coming?” He says, calling back to the team on the opposite side of the doorway. “Whatever host is monitoring those cameras, they must know we’re here yeah? Any point in attempting to remain hidden?” He asks as he starts moving toward Mick with the doctor slung over his shoulder.
“But I don’t think this Nuyen came from the regime that is falling apart at the seams. What’s the name that keeps popping up? Ares.” Yung draws his sidearm looking at the name engraved below the barrel. “If this is a greater security risk, then that might explain the lack of Kuroikaze upstairs.”
He lets out yet another sigh, a signal of consent to the difficulty of the path forward. “Well, we better get movin one way or another, y’all coming?” He says, calling back to the team on the opposite side of the doorway. “Whatever host is monitoring those cameras, they must know we’re here yeah? Any point in attempting to remain hidden?” He asks as he starts moving toward Mick with the doctor slung over his shoulder.
-
Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Axel picks up the courage to walk toward Mick, and poke his head around the corner. Upon seeing the sentry, his mouth makes an "O" shape, he looks behind himself, then back at the sentry. Wordlessly, he raises a finger, and slowly points it to himself as if to say, "are you looking for ME?"
He steps more fully into the hallway. "Well hello there," he says, "what's a sweet little thing like you doing in a dump like this?"
His scavenger instincts burning hot, he kneels down to take stock of the drone and its mounted weapon.
(( Also knowledge: drones. Does this thing walk? ))
He steps more fully into the hallway. "Well hello there," he says, "what's a sweet little thing like you doing in a dump like this?"
His scavenger instincts burning hot, he kneels down to take stock of the drone and its mounted weapon.
(( Also knowledge: drones. Does this thing walk? ))
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Dice
The drone itself has a wide array of sensors, antennae, and mounted mini-gun. Unfortunately, the mini-gun appears to have been partially disassembled into order to install, so removal would be difficult if not impossible. Axel examines the spindly, arachnid legs and wonders what they're made of to support the considerable weight of the drone.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
“AWW, IT’S GOT LITTLE FEET.” Something about the sight of the drone, no longer just an abstract icon, but a literal shiny object, does serve as a welcome distraction from her sense of impending doom. Lured out by this newfound friend, Mouse slips into the hallway behind the others, lingering toward the back as she observes the admittedly adorable interaction. It’s like watching a kid with a puppy.
…if the puppy had a minigun for a face.
“NOT SHUT DOWN,” she corrects. “IT’S STILL AS DEADLY AS BEFORE- JUST NEEDS TO BE FIRED MANUALLY.” She tilts her head, pressing her arms more tightly against her in an anxious flurry of thought. On one hand, there’s still that creeping sense of something lurking in the network. There’s the incessant reminders of her ‘baby monitor’ that her chaotic jaunt in the military host has cost her in overwatch- interest that will keep accruing interest until it’s too much to bear. Really, what she should be doing, with the sentry no longer an immediate threat, is rebooting her system to start fresh with the cameras.
With a deep breath and a soft smile playing at the corner of her mouth, she settles on another choice entirely. She opens one hand, watching the three hard-won MARKs from the sentry hovering over her palm in the AR space, and with a wave, sends them to Axel’s RCC, along with an attached note: <<So, what are you going to call it?>>
Of course, there’s still the teensy problem posed by the cameras, which have a full, glorious view of the runner team. “UNLESS THE GUARDS ARE ASLEEP, THEN LEAVING THOSE CAMERAS UP MEANS THAT ANYONE WATCHING CAN PINPOINT WHERE WE ARE. IF NOTHING ELSE, WE SHOULD KEEP MOVING.” She furrows her brow in visible frustration- a rare moment of having her hands electronically tied.
At least the drone's cute.
…if the puppy had a minigun for a face.
“NOT SHUT DOWN,” she corrects. “IT’S STILL AS DEADLY AS BEFORE- JUST NEEDS TO BE FIRED MANUALLY.” She tilts her head, pressing her arms more tightly against her in an anxious flurry of thought. On one hand, there’s still that creeping sense of something lurking in the network. There’s the incessant reminders of her ‘baby monitor’ that her chaotic jaunt in the military host has cost her in overwatch- interest that will keep accruing interest until it’s too much to bear. Really, what she should be doing, with the sentry no longer an immediate threat, is rebooting her system to start fresh with the cameras.
With a deep breath and a soft smile playing at the corner of her mouth, she settles on another choice entirely. She opens one hand, watching the three hard-won MARKs from the sentry hovering over her palm in the AR space, and with a wave, sends them to Axel’s RCC, along with an attached note: <<So, what are you going to call it?>>
Of course, there’s still the teensy problem posed by the cameras, which have a full, glorious view of the runner team. “UNLESS THE GUARDS ARE ASLEEP, THEN LEAVING THOSE CAMERAS UP MEANS THAT ANYONE WATCHING CAN PINPOINT WHERE WE ARE. IF NOTHING ELSE, WE SHOULD KEEP MOVING.” She furrows her brow in visible frustration- a rare moment of having her hands electronically tied.
At least the drone's cute.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Temporarily enthralled by his teammates' new fixation on the disalbled drone, Yung can help but crack a smile beneath his veiled exterior. He’s met meatbags from all walks of life through chance relationships at bars, nightclubs, the dojo, and the brawl circuit; but actually seeing them in action is weirdly endearing. An intimate recognition that the human connection can and does transcend the physical space and into the digital and synthetic experience in ways he will probably never understand. Observing this rather insignificant interaction is soothing, a coming to terms with the fact that everyone is out of their element or in over their head at any given moment. The best we can do is try and roll with the punches.
After registering Mouse’s comments about the cameras, and realizing that she won’t be dealing with them, he decides to act. The siege is underway and any wasted cycles is just more time for antagonists to gain an upper hand. He once again sets the doctor down, leaning him in an upright position against the wall of the hallway. He cycles through the AR marks on his IVAS, neon reticles superimposed behind walls adjusting to his every movement.
He steps forward with deliberate intention, a strange confidence exuded by the way he moves and positions himself. One at a time he gets into position against a wall obstructing the sightline for one of the five cameras, he extends the barrel of his Ares around the corner, fires a single shot, then moves to the next vantage point. The process repeats four times.
Yung returns to where he set the doctor down, and one last time levels his Ares at the last camera, currently displayed on the group's HUD, firing a shot and killing the feed. He holsters his sidearm, and once again hoists the doctor over his shoulder before calling out, “Vamanos.”
After registering Mouse’s comments about the cameras, and realizing that she won’t be dealing with them, he decides to act. The siege is underway and any wasted cycles is just more time for antagonists to gain an upper hand. He once again sets the doctor down, leaning him in an upright position against the wall of the hallway. He cycles through the AR marks on his IVAS, neon reticles superimposed behind walls adjusting to his every movement.
He steps forward with deliberate intention, a strange confidence exuded by the way he moves and positions himself. One at a time he gets into position against a wall obstructing the sightline for one of the five cameras, he extends the barrel of his Ares around the corner, fires a single shot, then moves to the next vantage point. The process repeats four times.
Yung returns to where he set the doctor down, and one last time levels his Ares at the last camera, currently displayed on the group's HUD, firing a shot and killing the feed. He holsters his sidearm, and once again hoists the doctor over his shoulder before calling out, “Vamanos.”
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Axel's grin grows wider.
"Yeah, not going to be able to let it run on its own," his eyes track across the cluster of barrels protruding from the front, "but even manually fired, it'll do a hell of a lot more than my pea shooter. Well, for as long as it can go. Range on these things is drek, but it's a small island, too. You sure you don't want to take her for a spin?" He asks Mouse without taking his eyes off the drone. He places his hands in front of him as if gripping a game controller that only he can see, and signals the drone to take a few steps from side-to-side.
He pauses as if to think, or maybe sniff the air. "Petunia. Her name is Petunia."
"Yeah, not going to be able to let it run on its own," his eyes track across the cluster of barrels protruding from the front, "but even manually fired, it'll do a hell of a lot more than my pea shooter. Well, for as long as it can go. Range on these things is drek, but it's a small island, too. You sure you don't want to take her for a spin?" He asks Mouse without taking his eyes off the drone. He places his hands in front of him as if gripping a game controller that only he can see, and signals the drone to take a few steps from side-to-side.
He pauses as if to think, or maybe sniff the air. "Petunia. Her name is Petunia."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The emergency lighting flickers and winks out, throwing the maze of corridors into pitch dark.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
"Drek, did I do that?"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Inaudible except to his own enhanced hearing, tiny servos whir to expand the apertures of Taipan's irises, compensating for the darkness and bathing the facility in renewed if muted light. "Not you, omae. They know we're here. And it looks like there's only one way out so they'll know where we're going. We've got to move."
Taipan steps into the hallway just beyond the turret's charging bay, and hesitates. "But what the frag is this place?" he murmurs, almost to himself. Time being of the essence, he sends out one ping in an attempt to get a rough idea of the layout and contents of each of the surrounding rooms.
(( All I'm looking for here is trying to roughly discern the rooms' purposes (exam, storage, lab, utility, etc.), and whether there any any life forms present. ))
Taipan steps into the hallway just beyond the turret's charging bay, and hesitates. "But what the frag is this place?" he murmurs, almost to himself. Time being of the essence, he sends out one ping in an attempt to get a rough idea of the layout and contents of each of the surrounding rooms.
(( All I'm looking for here is trying to roughly discern the rooms' purposes (exam, storage, lab, utility, etc.), and whether there any any life forms present. ))
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
"PETUNIA- YOROSHIKU.” The gentle smile remains as she dips her head, as though meeting the little mobile-turret for the first time. “YOU GO AHEAD. I SHOULD PROBABLY KEEP AN EYE ON-"
…and then all goes dark.
The decker’s narrow eyes go saucer wide, her entire body tenses, muscles instinctively locking down into a protective crouch. Her breath is trapped at the top of her chest. It hangs there- refusing to be let go, as though it might very well be the last she ever takes. But it has to escape, not as a proper exhalation, but as the smallest, shallowest of cries, a sob strangled halfway into its existence.
"...no..."
Her voice is barely audible, somewhere between a whisper and a prayer. Her knees press against her chest now, muscles shaking in an unstoppable tremor. One hand curls its way up toward her hair, fingers clawing against her scalp, as though desperate for any vestige of security that she can grasp. She shoves her other hand forward, into the darkened space populated only by the images projected through her DNI- fingers pressing against the flow of icons visible only in her HUD with the same force and desperation of someone frantically punching a familiar number into an ancient telephone. "...nonononononononono..." Her eyes frantically dart back and forth, vision blurred by the creeping onset of tears, as she seeks out any trace of the previous icons that had comprised the hidden electronic landscape. “Please… don’t be gone. Don’t be gone. Don’t be gone.”
(( Any sign of those hidden icons/cameras from before? Or did those wink out with everything else?d (AKA- did we just lose the lights? Or more like everything?) ))
…and then all goes dark.
The decker’s narrow eyes go saucer wide, her entire body tenses, muscles instinctively locking down into a protective crouch. Her breath is trapped at the top of her chest. It hangs there- refusing to be let go, as though it might very well be the last she ever takes. But it has to escape, not as a proper exhalation, but as the smallest, shallowest of cries, a sob strangled halfway into its existence.
"...no..."
Her voice is barely audible, somewhere between a whisper and a prayer. Her knees press against her chest now, muscles shaking in an unstoppable tremor. One hand curls its way up toward her hair, fingers clawing against her scalp, as though desperate for any vestige of security that she can grasp. She shoves her other hand forward, into the darkened space populated only by the images projected through her DNI- fingers pressing against the flow of icons visible only in her HUD with the same force and desperation of someone frantically punching a familiar number into an ancient telephone. "...nonononononononono..." Her eyes frantically dart back and forth, vision blurred by the creeping onset of tears, as she seeks out any trace of the previous icons that had comprised the hidden electronic landscape. “Please… don’t be gone. Don’t be gone. Don’t be gone.”
(( Any sign of those hidden icons/cameras from before? Or did those wink out with everything else?d (AKA- did we just lose the lights? Or more like everything?) ))
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Dice
The sole exception is a large vault door at the end of the second hallway. As Taipan moves his face close to the door, he can feel frigid vapors wafting off of it. The space beyond is empty, as far as he can tell.
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Axel is about to fire up a diagnostic suite to work out why Petunia's feed has gone dark, until he notices that his entire vision has gone dark, save for the floating borders of the various drones' AR feeds. He blinks twice, which leaves him right where he started, albeit with newly moisturized eyes.
"The frag is-" he starts as he loops a finger up along the bridge of his nose, and pulls his goggles down over his eyes. He lets out a breath when the fuzzy images of the team's body heat illuminate his vision. He slowly becomes aware of a rhythmic sound coming from down and to his left a moment before it resolves into Mouse's repeated prayer to the Matrix gods. He pats around his jumpsuit, finally feeling the small bulk of the miniwelder that he stuffed into one of the pouches before stepping into the elevator. He retrieves the device, holds it above his head, and sparks it to life. The white-hot flame throws a dim but stark luminance somewhere along the spectrum of "industrial work light". He kneels next to the decker.
"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. We're still here. All that other stuff? It's still there. This is just like a long reboot," he says, the words not sounding very reassuring in his own ears, either. "Focus on the drones, they're still broadcasting."
"The frag is-" he starts as he loops a finger up along the bridge of his nose, and pulls his goggles down over his eyes. He lets out a breath when the fuzzy images of the team's body heat illuminate his vision. He slowly becomes aware of a rhythmic sound coming from down and to his left a moment before it resolves into Mouse's repeated prayer to the Matrix gods. He pats around his jumpsuit, finally feeling the small bulk of the miniwelder that he stuffed into one of the pouches before stepping into the elevator. He retrieves the device, holds it above his head, and sparks it to life. The white-hot flame throws a dim but stark luminance somewhere along the spectrum of "industrial work light". He kneels next to the decker.
"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. We're still here. All that other stuff? It's still there. This is just like a long reboot," he says, the words not sounding very reassuring in his own ears, either. "Focus on the drones, they're still broadcasting."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Yung furrows his brow in response to Mouse's breakdown. While he doesn’t fully understand why this particular situation would cause such a reaction, he can easily empathize with her emotional state. His concern shifts to admiration as Axel takes a textbook approach to helping with recovery. Wasn’t expecting that from him, he thinks, priding himself on his character assessments, guess still waters run deep.
“That’s right, chica. Nothin to worry about here, besides, mice like the dark, yeah? Easier to scurry around unseen.” Despite the spoken words, he starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach, he can feel the quiet desperation and powerlessness permeating the atmosphere around Mouse and can’t avoid being buffeted by the onslaught of peaks and valleys he has experienced this run. He feels his breath starting to accelerate before he stops himself, forcing his attention on the person who needs it. He feels a yearning desire to place his hand on the one Mouse is using to claw at her scalp, in most situations he would, but he knows that actually might make the situation worse.
He squats down next to Mouse, trying to manage the shifting weight of the doctor. He removes his combat mask for a moment, in order to make eye contact as he addresses her, “You got something to see in the dark? He pulls out his secondary pair of glasses, offering them to her on an outstretched palm. Might be a little big he says” Offering a smile and a brief wink, “You got nothing to worry about, we’ll be outta this and back to the world of ones and zeros in no time, eh?” He intones a calming confidence in his words, creating a stepladder of support to help her climb out of the emotional hole. “First things first omae, gotta stand up.” He looks over her face to see if there’s any reaction to his words. “If you can’t do that you gotta let us know, there’s other options but I prefer not to go that route just yet.”
(( Use voice control to help the situation? ))
“That’s right, chica. Nothin to worry about here, besides, mice like the dark, yeah? Easier to scurry around unseen.” Despite the spoken words, he starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach, he can feel the quiet desperation and powerlessness permeating the atmosphere around Mouse and can’t avoid being buffeted by the onslaught of peaks and valleys he has experienced this run. He feels his breath starting to accelerate before he stops himself, forcing his attention on the person who needs it. He feels a yearning desire to place his hand on the one Mouse is using to claw at her scalp, in most situations he would, but he knows that actually might make the situation worse.
He squats down next to Mouse, trying to manage the shifting weight of the doctor. He removes his combat mask for a moment, in order to make eye contact as he addresses her, “You got something to see in the dark? He pulls out his secondary pair of glasses, offering them to her on an outstretched palm. Might be a little big he says” Offering a smile and a brief wink, “You got nothing to worry about, we’ll be outta this and back to the world of ones and zeros in no time, eh?” He intones a calming confidence in his words, creating a stepladder of support to help her climb out of the emotional hole. “First things first omae, gotta stand up.” He looks over her face to see if there’s any reaction to his words. “If you can’t do that you gotta let us know, there’s other options but I prefer not to go that route just yet.”
(( Use voice control to help the situation? ))
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The light of the welder stands in stark relief against the overwhelming blackness, like a hot pixel against a darkened monitor, ‘a beacon of light from a burning screen.’ The dim light from the white flame paints Mouse in sharp contrasts, rendering her delicate features with a hollow, haunted air.
The faces of the others don’t register at first, their reassuring words muted by the pounding of her own heartbeat. Dilated pupils dart from side to side at the lines of code visible only to her, and the conspicuously absent cameras that had only moments before seemed inescapable. “Nothing there. They took it down. All of it. Coming down.” Bypassing the structure and careful deliberation necessitated by her usual synthetics, the raw thoughts pass through her lips, unedited and fragmentary.
The light processes before the voices do. Her wide eyes lock onto Axel’s synthetic ones in an uncharacteristically direct and sustained focus, as she seemingly searches for a hint of commonality and understanding. Yung’s reassurances sync with Axel’s in a distinct harmony of wavelengths as both attempt to soothe the increasingly feral Mouse. Their relative calm proves paradoxically chilling, soft voices and gentle words from those who refuse to accept that the building around them is burning.
‘...like a long reboot…’ ‘...back in no time…’
These reassurances are met with a sharp, almost violent shake of her head, loosing tears that had been perched precariously on her eyelashes, sending them streaking down their cheeks. “You don’t know that.” Her rebuke comes out in a sharp hiss, like that of a cornered animal. Her head keeps shaking, the words keep tumbling out. “You didn’t see it. You don’t know.” There’s a certainty here: they have no way of seeing the being that lurking between the airwaves, no way of comprehending the existence of that kind of abomination, or accepting it into their realities.
Yung’s direct questions, the simple instructions delivered through his carefully-practiced tones, those she can parse. Like commands given in BASIC, they register in her consciousness line by line. ’Something to see…’ Given a task, her fingers unclench from the dark locks of hair to instead reach for her bag. In deliberate, jerky movements, she unzips the front pouch, withdrawing a miniature flashlight. With the push of a switch, it illuminates the area immediately before her in a low, red-spectrumed tint: low for the average human, but at least sufficient for herself. Its center shivers, flamelike, in time with the trembling of her hands.
The innuendo that, in normal circumstances, would have drawn a wry smile, instead seems to pass by immediately unnoticed, the decker staring blankly as though waiting for the next command. ’Stand up.’ She reaches her empty hand out to Petunia, which rocks gently in place, servos whirring softly as it rebalances itself with the added weight. Steadied against the cold metal, Mouse draws herself upward, knees rocking sharply as she struggles to recall the mechanics of standing and walking.
This task achieved, she swallows hard, briefly searching in the darkness for the other familiar faces nearby. “Can’t stay here. Have to get out. Please.” Her voice remains small, pleading, even as she manages phrases that seem at once both urgent and patently obvious.
As though hit with some belated revelation, there’s a flash of motion, as her free hand moves from Petunia, instead making a sudden, desperate grab for Axel’s sleeve. “Just… don’t leave... okay? Please- I need... I can’t-” Her fingers curl desperately into the canvas and leather as though holding on for dear life, eyes once again locking to his. "Please."
The faces of the others don’t register at first, their reassuring words muted by the pounding of her own heartbeat. Dilated pupils dart from side to side at the lines of code visible only to her, and the conspicuously absent cameras that had only moments before seemed inescapable. “Nothing there. They took it down. All of it. Coming down.” Bypassing the structure and careful deliberation necessitated by her usual synthetics, the raw thoughts pass through her lips, unedited and fragmentary.
The light processes before the voices do. Her wide eyes lock onto Axel’s synthetic ones in an uncharacteristically direct and sustained focus, as she seemingly searches for a hint of commonality and understanding. Yung’s reassurances sync with Axel’s in a distinct harmony of wavelengths as both attempt to soothe the increasingly feral Mouse. Their relative calm proves paradoxically chilling, soft voices and gentle words from those who refuse to accept that the building around them is burning.
‘...like a long reboot…’ ‘...back in no time…’
These reassurances are met with a sharp, almost violent shake of her head, loosing tears that had been perched precariously on her eyelashes, sending them streaking down their cheeks. “You don’t know that.” Her rebuke comes out in a sharp hiss, like that of a cornered animal. Her head keeps shaking, the words keep tumbling out. “You didn’t see it. You don’t know.” There’s a certainty here: they have no way of seeing the being that lurking between the airwaves, no way of comprehending the existence of that kind of abomination, or accepting it into their realities.
Yung’s direct questions, the simple instructions delivered through his carefully-practiced tones, those she can parse. Like commands given in BASIC, they register in her consciousness line by line. ’Something to see…’ Given a task, her fingers unclench from the dark locks of hair to instead reach for her bag. In deliberate, jerky movements, she unzips the front pouch, withdrawing a miniature flashlight. With the push of a switch, it illuminates the area immediately before her in a low, red-spectrumed tint: low for the average human, but at least sufficient for herself. Its center shivers, flamelike, in time with the trembling of her hands.
The innuendo that, in normal circumstances, would have drawn a wry smile, instead seems to pass by immediately unnoticed, the decker staring blankly as though waiting for the next command. ’Stand up.’ She reaches her empty hand out to Petunia, which rocks gently in place, servos whirring softly as it rebalances itself with the added weight. Steadied against the cold metal, Mouse draws herself upward, knees rocking sharply as she struggles to recall the mechanics of standing and walking.
This task achieved, she swallows hard, briefly searching in the darkness for the other familiar faces nearby. “Can’t stay here. Have to get out. Please.” Her voice remains small, pleading, even as she manages phrases that seem at once both urgent and patently obvious.
As though hit with some belated revelation, there’s a flash of motion, as her free hand moves from Petunia, instead making a sudden, desperate grab for Axel’s sleeve. “Just… don’t leave... okay? Please- I need... I can’t-” Her fingers curl desperately into the canvas and leather as though holding on for dear life, eyes once again locking to his. "Please."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
While the corridors remain dark-- lit only by Taipan's chemlight and Axel's miniwelder-- the distant whirr of ventilation continues. Likewise, Axel can see heat radiating from Petunia's charging pit, suggesting that power is still flowing. Something or someone intervened to shut off the lighting, whether deliberate or automatic.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Didn’t see it, what the frag is she talking about. He decides it doesn’t matter, not right now at least. If she did see something and it shook her up this much, probably best to downplay the whole thing.
He cocks an eyebrow as certain directions seem to elicit a visible reaction from Mouse, while his optimistic encouragement is ignored or responded to negatively.
“We’re getting out of here, and look, still even got power." He gestures to Petunia's pod. "Someone just turned off the lights. Listen to that ventilation system in the distance. Remember, we didn’t have signal down here; just those cameras I took offline and Petunia here. Just need to start walking. I’ll lead you just follow with Axel okay?” He places a deliberate tone of emphasis on the command words.
Yung pulls out a chemlight and activates it before returning it to his pocket. He then fishes out a flashlight and uses that to begin navigating the hallway. “Everyone stick together, yeah?”
(( Start heading further into the complex assuming everyone is good to advance. ))
He cocks an eyebrow as certain directions seem to elicit a visible reaction from Mouse, while his optimistic encouragement is ignored or responded to negatively.
“We’re getting out of here, and look, still even got power." He gestures to Petunia's pod. "Someone just turned off the lights. Listen to that ventilation system in the distance. Remember, we didn’t have signal down here; just those cameras I took offline and Petunia here. Just need to start walking. I’ll lead you just follow with Axel okay?” He places a deliberate tone of emphasis on the command words.
Yung pulls out a chemlight and activates it before returning it to his pocket. He then fishes out a flashlight and uses that to begin navigating the hallway. “Everyone stick together, yeah?”
(( Start heading further into the complex assuming everyone is good to advance. ))
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Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Axel is thankful for the dim lighting hiding the furrow on his brow as he tries to understand what Mouse is talking about. "When we get out of here, maybe you can tell us what you saw. Perhaps somewhere bright and with Matrix access? But for now... Akela's right. We should move." He brings the miniwelder a little lower so that it illuminates his face, and what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
"You're a badass decker who's made it this far into an Imperial black site. And the best they can do to you is turn out the lights? It's time for us to become the things that go bump in the night." It's only when he says this, that he realizes that he's reassuring himself as much as Mouse. His smile turns into a grin with a hint of savagery, "Maybe when this is all over, we can hide under Saito's bed and grab his ankles when he dangles them off the side."
He pats her hand that is clutching a wad of his jumpsuit. "I ain't going anywhere. That terror you're feeling, that belongs to them. How about we go give it back, ne?"
"You're a badass decker who's made it this far into an Imperial black site. And the best they can do to you is turn out the lights? It's time for us to become the things that go bump in the night." It's only when he says this, that he realizes that he's reassuring himself as much as Mouse. His smile turns into a grin with a hint of savagery, "Maybe when this is all over, we can hide under Saito's bed and grab his ankles when he dangles them off the side."
He pats her hand that is clutching a wad of his jumpsuit. "I ain't going anywhere. That terror you're feeling, that belongs to them. How about we go give it back, ne?"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
With each hint of functioning power, a trace of color starts to return to the decker’s face. Yung’s instructions prove welcome in their simplicity, basic functions she can carry out while operating in a psychological Safe Mode. She manages a hum of acknowledgement, even if it’s driven, in part, by her willingness to do or say whatever will get them out of this basement as soon as possible.
There’s still the matter of the formless threat still lingering in the dark. Her eyes skip between the faces of her party members, this time, running simple evaluations. As it stands, the Venn Diagram of her teammates who both would believe her outlandish theories and those who would be capable of grasping the concept consists of two separate circles. She catches Axel’s gaze just in time to glimpse his smile. He might get it. It’s a long shot, but he’s currently her best chance that someone besides herself will comprehend the nature and scale of the threat, and not simply dismiss her as a nervous wreck.
Her focus goes briefly distant, a furrow tugging at her brow, at his mention of them lurking under Saito’s bed. “Might be difficult…” Her voice comes out in a low murmur, and she cocks her head as she once again tilts her head upward to meet Axel’s smile. “...s’probably a futon.”
There- she’s back to joking (sort of), and as indicated by her determined matching of her teammates' pace, she’s capable of movement, uneven as it may be. By those metrics, she’s practically recovered. There is no problem here.
She’s just not about to let go of that sleeve any time soon.
There’s still the matter of the formless threat still lingering in the dark. Her eyes skip between the faces of her party members, this time, running simple evaluations. As it stands, the Venn Diagram of her teammates who both would believe her outlandish theories and those who would be capable of grasping the concept consists of two separate circles. She catches Axel’s gaze just in time to glimpse his smile. He might get it. It’s a long shot, but he’s currently her best chance that someone besides herself will comprehend the nature and scale of the threat, and not simply dismiss her as a nervous wreck.
Her focus goes briefly distant, a furrow tugging at her brow, at his mention of them lurking under Saito’s bed. “Might be difficult…” Her voice comes out in a low murmur, and she cocks her head as she once again tilts her head upward to meet Axel’s smile. “...s’probably a futon.”
There- she’s back to joking (sort of), and as indicated by her determined matching of her teammates' pace, she’s capable of movement, uneven as it may be. By those metrics, she’s practically recovered. There is no problem here.
She’s just not about to let go of that sleeve any time soon.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The team's verbal exchange fades to muted syllables as the processing unit collects the return volley of ultrasonic data. He plucks the apparently singular bit of useful data from the barrage, murmuring his shoulder, "Not registering movement in any of these rooms."
He peers suspiciously at his surroundings. It looks like a regular enough medical ward; lord knows he's seen enough of them. But... why the hermetic seals? Why underground? Why the turret? Curiosity overtakes the old samurai's singular obsession with the objective as his low light vision picks up the ghostly wisps of vapor down the hall, illuminated with the toxic emerald hue of the chemlight. Unable to shake the feeling that those answers are important, peripheral though they are to their purpose here, he strides toward the freezer and pulls the handle toward him.
He peers suspiciously at his surroundings. It looks like a regular enough medical ward; lord knows he's seen enough of them. But... why the hermetic seals? Why underground? Why the turret? Curiosity overtakes the old samurai's singular obsession with the objective as his low light vision picks up the ghostly wisps of vapor down the hall, illuminated with the toxic emerald hue of the chemlight. Unable to shake the feeling that those answers are important, peripheral though they are to their purpose here, he strides toward the freezer and pulls the handle toward him.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Dice
Taipan kneels and scans the bottom of the shelves. He spots something wedged against the wall, stuck behind one of the many retainers. Using his knife, he pries the item free and inspects it. It takes him a while to realize that it's some kind of name-plate, almost like a military insignia-- but clearly civilian. Corporate, maybe? It reads: Zodiac - Volker, R.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
One by one, psychological functions come back online. Pared down to handling only essential tasks, namely breathing and moving her legs, Mouse has enough working memory to handle some basic thought processes, in spite of the Glow-level noise generated from her own mental screaming. The first task, then, is to reassess the facts of the situation in light of Yung and Axel’s reassurances:
The power has not been cut completely. Yet. The others do appear to be making an effort to get off the proverbial ‘X’. She is not about to be separated from her friends, by sheer virtue of the fact that she’s maintaining a death grip on Axel’s sleeve, so he really can’t go anywhere.
They’re still in danger. There’s still something out there. The others just can’t see it.
Technically, that’s also true. Her first real test, then, is to state the nature of the threat, in a way that does not come across like the paranoid fever-dream of a hotsim burnout mid-neurotic-breakdown. Thus, she must now make a conscious effort to pretend that she’s not, in fact, a hotsim burnout mid-neurotic breakdown.
This is going to take some effort.
She swallows hard, eyes locked forward, attention fixated on the careful selection of each word, which she feeds manually into her speech generation software. “...THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE DOWN HERE.” The voice is ‘hers’ again, the familiar synthetics that the team’s used to hearing when everything is fine and nothing is on fire. Each word, however, is cherry-picked with the deliberation of a politician spinning a picture from only the most technical of truths. “I COULDN’T GET A GOOD LOOK- THEIR SIGNAL WAS TOO WELL HIDDEN, BUT THERE WAS ANOTHER USER MOVING THROUGH THE DATA STREAMS.” She grits her teeth, straining herself with the effort of each pertinent omission- the ones that elevate the threat from a mere enemy sysadmin to a being beyond the pale.
She takes another deep breath, this one catching in her throat as she forces herself to keep going, not to let herself break now. “...AND THEY KNOW THAT WE’RE HERE.”
The power has not been cut completely. Yet. The others do appear to be making an effort to get off the proverbial ‘X’. She is not about to be separated from her friends, by sheer virtue of the fact that she’s maintaining a death grip on Axel’s sleeve, so he really can’t go anywhere.
They’re still in danger. There’s still something out there. The others just can’t see it.
Technically, that’s also true. Her first real test, then, is to state the nature of the threat, in a way that does not come across like the paranoid fever-dream of a hotsim burnout mid-neurotic-breakdown. Thus, she must now make a conscious effort to pretend that she’s not, in fact, a hotsim burnout mid-neurotic breakdown.
This is going to take some effort.
She swallows hard, eyes locked forward, attention fixated on the careful selection of each word, which she feeds manually into her speech generation software. “...THERE’S SOMEONE ELSE DOWN HERE.” The voice is ‘hers’ again, the familiar synthetics that the team’s used to hearing when everything is fine and nothing is on fire. Each word, however, is cherry-picked with the deliberation of a politician spinning a picture from only the most technical of truths. “I COULDN’T GET A GOOD LOOK- THEIR SIGNAL WAS TOO WELL HIDDEN, BUT THERE WAS ANOTHER USER MOVING THROUGH THE DATA STREAMS.” She grits her teeth, straining herself with the effort of each pertinent omission- the ones that elevate the threat from a mere enemy sysadmin to a being beyond the pale.
She takes another deep breath, this one catching in her throat as she forces herself to keep going, not to let herself break now. “...AND THEY KNOW THAT WE’RE HERE.”