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Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 3, 2019 3:29:16 GMT
Eliza gave a curt nod to the Spartan as she straightened herself. "Aye, probably best. If ye have answers, though, ask fer Lieutenant Balkus on Reach if we donna get that option before we jump," she explained. "He's th' one that handles liaisons fer me and Confed." A faint smile crossed the woman's face as she turned towards the newly-awakened man. "Th' relation's rather distant, honestly, and I run Arcanus Military Industries. More chit chat's gannin ta need ta wait, though. We're na safe here and.." Eliza paused as she watched with some concern as Eligos's mental condition seemed to deteriorate before her eyes, then give his warning of impending doom.
"Right then, that's our cue. Spartan, I suggest ye get Mr. Van Winkle out of dodge. Eligos, shut up and start runnin' back," she added in a clipped tone. "Veska, ye catch all that?" she inquired as she then diverted her attention to her assistant.
"I did. Sounds bad."
"Aye. Na sure what we're dealin' wi, but assume it's somethin' akin ta Phantasmaranae and hostile. I need surgical strikes ta keep it distracted," Eliza ordered.
"Erm..pardon? You want me to open fire?" the AI questioned, worry evident even through the comms.
"Aye, take out th' engine pylons, then I want that sphere vented worse than a Kromus's skull after an 8 gauge has had its way wi it. We're leavin', now," she answered.
Turning towards the Spartan even as she reached to grab Eligos by the shoulder, Eliza spoke again to him. "I'm sure ye caught all that. If this thing's angry, expect worse than whatever ye might've dealt wi when we had our wee group hallucination. Na sure what this is, so I canna tell ye how ta fight it, either, so I'd recommend gettin' th' hell out of here instead of engagin' it here." With that said, the Witch started into a run, hoping that Eligos had enough sense remaining to follow suit.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Oh, those were old, old names being thrown around, even for Vincent. At the very least the civilian seemed to have a level head on his shoulders. He didn't complain, just did what was needed - although while he was slipping his flight suit back on the man couldn't help but ask some fairly understandable questions, despite Vincent's own comment moments before. And, unfortunately, they were questions with no answers. The Beatrice was the only vessel docked to the Horizon, and any other ship that Miller - if the patch on his flight suit was accurate and indeed his - might have arrived on was centuries gone. Even if it hadn't been destroyed out in the Kuiper Belt there wasn't much chance of finding it. 800 years was a long, long time, and things could drift a very long way in that period. Space was big, much bigger than most people could readily comprehend.
"Talk while moving. If they're alive they're not here, no one else-" Vincent started, moving to the hallway and retrieving the EVA hardsuit that had been abandoned there. As he began approaching Miller again, though, whatever instability had been present in Eligos would once again overwhelm whatever self control the guy had left. Vincent didn't unnerve easy, but with everything that had been out of place already on top of what both he and Eliza had said was beginning to leave at least some room for doubt. And given the Spartan's already cautious nature that was frankly all that was needed.
"Get that on." Vincent said, the earlier weariness in his voice gone and replaced by a much harder, sharper tone as he not quite gently pushed the hardsuit into Miller's arms. Eliza evidently had the same mindset as her instructions regarding one of her contacts on Reach was replaced with a fast and to the point back and forth with her shipboard assistant.
Weapons? Her ship was armed? Oh, they could do better than that. Vincent had always had a knack for demolition, and with what he'd gotten his hands on earlier... moments like these made him incredibly thankful that MJOLNIR was largely controlled via the standard issue neural lace and by extension the user's thoughts.
"Hold fire, at least for a moment. You can do better than that." Vincent said, finally transmitting over the same channel that the other boarding party was.
"Set up a quarantined storage space, you'll need it. I'm sending a copy of the ship's schematics I pulled earlier, and tagging both the ship's FTL drive and its power generation. If you can slave your targeting to my AI he should handle it based on our current position and the overlay he's using to map the SinoViet transponders since we know that works. He's been pretty well quarantined from the Horizon, unlike our friend." Vincent continued, compressing the relevant files and queuing them up for transmission. Throwing a glance in Eligos' direction, Vincent would recheck his weapon again, nervous habits resurfacing as he waited for confirmation from the Goddess.
"..... Patch. Set up a buffer. As many firewalls as you can throw up, I don't trust SPDR to handle whatever this is. Use the quarantined space on my datapad's hard drive to filter the transmission if you have to."
As the mechanoid AI would carry out her orders, the screens would flicker. At first, it was brief. But soon, it became pervading, lights surging as there was a groan through the hull of the Dancing Goddess, and then even more strange…
She heard a laugh.
"It's not nice to fire on such a welcoming host. Naughty children are to be punished."
And as the ship's screens would start flashing, images appeared. They were clear, revealing, and filled with screams and sounds of agony. Torment.
"Libera te tutemet, ex inferis."
And then sparks exploded out of the main consoles as all power failed.
There was a rumble through the ship, a surge of force that shook the deck and would throw Miller off his feet. Angry, resentful, and vindictive. The vibrations were violent like a quake had suddenly struck the vessel, and it was a few minutes as the groaning metal settled and the rumbling subsided. After everything had finally settled, the main lights at last turned on, and it was calm.
A beep on the motion trackers. Something was moving, and it was moving fast. Another beep appeared, then another, and another. Out of nowhere, contacts kept appearing out of nowhere. Soon the area was filling with contacts on all decks within range of the various sensory filters. And then, something more than just felt inexplicably wrong. With the lights now on, they could see it. The walls were moving. Hands and faces could be discerned, eyes moving about rapidly. There were bodies fused into the hull, and not all of them were human.
And then there was a pounding at the door of the chamber. A deep roar that both the soldier and the witch would know from cursed memories. Guttural, thirsty for blood. A brutish force behind it that no doubt had before, and still haunted their nightmares.
There was no surprise, no startling fear as the lights began to flicker, as metal groaned and buckled around him, echoing the angry roars that filled his mind. After all, why would there be any? He knew this was happen, he had been warned, nay, shown, what had happened, what was happening...and what would happen again. The faces would move, wiggle and push along the weakened boundaries of the vessel's core, the dark ichor from its void spherical beating heart.Their screams, the choir of pain, torment and pleasure being counterpointed by laughter. His laughter. Maddening. Cackling. Oh this was insane. This ship was insane....but, an insane man in an insane vessel would have an advantage would he not?
He moved away from the wall he had been leaning against, as if pushed by the darkened hands stretching out impossibly across the metal made flesh, pacing to stand before the bending door, back facing it for now as he gazed towards the other occupants of the room. Eliza, the soldier and the one they had just rescued "It doesn't like you..." He spoke as chaos erupted around him, his tone eerily calm now, even with his head tilted to the side and his eyes twitching, pupils moving across the entire prone and moist shape of the one they rescued. "It doesn't like that we saved you...You best remember why soon."
He wouldn't wait for an answer. In fact he might not really get one all things considered. He turned to face the door, letting the rumble from the roar wash way the wails and screams, allowing the vibration from the brute force pounding against the vessel to resonate across his chest, tingling along his bones, natural and artificial alike. The other two might recognise it, but he didn't. That seemed to apply to a great many things this day. Well, it sounded big. It sounded angry. And it sure as hell sounded like it wanted a piece of him. Heh...he had half a mind to give it. "So ladies and gents, ready to listen to the madman? Good. All is fake. All is real. It wants to play and seems to have plans for us...at least for me. And you know how much I love playing along to plans..."
Mayhem would be freed from its holster, the large rumbling handgun, a strange machination that seemed to be composed out of the revving engine of some vehicle, and still managed to look like a beefed up revolver. It was heavy. Even with his enhanced strength holding it out as he was a bit of an ordeal. Tungsten coating, Octonitrocubane filling. A tasty treat for the one oh so rudely knocking on their door. Let the others talk about plans, they would figure something out in the end. But right now his short-term plan was to squeeze the trigger as soon as the door gave, and hope his one shot makes a dent.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 3, 2019 6:17:01 GMT
Veska jumped back at the entirely unexpected display, though for once, she found herself lacking any emotional response that might have been normal in any organic or a smart AI. Instead, a dull sense of unease pervaded her core as her emotional algorithms simply had no way to process the fitting response to the stimuli beyond a general sense of wrongness. Still, she could tell readily enough that the ship had been compromised, and that the appropriate measures would need to be taken if they were to survive. She didn't bother to answer the voice, having flagged the speaker as hostile, though she wasn't yet sure if it was an AI or an extraplanar being like those Eliza had spoken of. Fortunately, there were EVA-rated hardsuits in each of the spare living quarters, each with an emergency transponder and comms system, and the android waste no time in sprinting to the nearest of them to remove the helmet and place it over her head in order to activate the transponder and the comms. While the comms frequency needed to be set manually to contact anyone specific, she had been the one to set up the localized comms network between the Dancing Goddess, Eliza, Eligos, and apparently in some inadvertent way, the Spartan.
"Sorry, that's not happening, either," she answered. "When a certain someone jacked in, the entity apparently jumped across the comms signal. We're dead in the water here," Veska warned.
"Fantastic!" Eliza snarled as her gaze flickered across her HUD, drawing her MARS in either hand in anticipation of a rather messy fight. "Spartan, how many can yer ship fit?" she questioned as she forced down her deep feeling of something that threatened to grow into fear. This..thing had been toying with them far too intimately for her liking, and the more she considered the entire situation, the more angry she became. Perhaps she didn't know what she faced. Perhaps it knew enough of each of them to play on their deepest fears and insecurities. And perhaps Eliza simply didn't care about either of the previous two possibilities. Even gods could die, and she'd witness titans laid low with her own eyes. If the ship wished to play with her, then she would show it just how deadly a toy she really was. Still, with the growing number of blips on her motion tracker, Eliza knew they couldn't fight all of them. They seemed to be simply materializing as far as previous scans had indicated. As horrific as her surroundings may have appeared, summoning demons back in the day hadn't been without its share of sights most would call horrifying, and so her gaze remained on the door as it buckled and bent.
"Right, so also, could ye patch Veska into th' local network so we can make sure we have an evac option? Looks like we're in fer a fun bit of run and gun," the Witch requested as she trained her hand cannons on the door.
"I already have an emergency transponder active, but an actual distress call including the detail of who all is at risk might get a quicker response," Veska replied. "In the meantime, I don't know that there's much else I can do with those asshole aboard."
"Understood. Jist donna jack into anythin', and be careful. We'll figure somethin' out, one way or another."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Vincent had no idea what it was that suddenly shook the ship but as Miller was thrown off his feet the Spartan found himself merely stumbling half a step forward, increased bulk keeping him to the deck plates as he simply rebalanced himself. Immediately flicking the safety for his weapon back on to prevent a potential accident, Vincent would take another half step towards the civilian that had been thrown to the deck - and while relatively gentle about it, taking hold of one of the man's arms with the intent of helping him back to his feet with an effortless upward haul.
And then his motion tracker would flicker red.
Freezing mid motion, Vincent would distinctly note that the movement was not any one of the people in the room. Lacking FoF tags for his armor to recognize there was really no immediate way to tell the difference, save the fact that he knew where they were and this new contact was somewhere else. And then there was another. And another. Within the span of a handful of seconds the entirety of his motion tracker would be crimson, and the gut feeling that Vincent had been nursing ever since leaving the Prowler would blossom into something far more tangible - and suddenly Vincent wasn't so sure he had wanted to leave his armor's VISR on. While the flickering lights had no doubt hidden the transition from the others in the room Vincent bore full witness to the walls suddenly changing from drab metal to moving and living flesh, fused and contorted into something grotesque. The only hint of relief in all of this was Vincent's initial impression of it being of something far, far worse, but this was different. The color was wrong, and this was flesh fused to the wall, not broken down and remade into something else. This wasn't the Parasite.
Not that it really changed what they'd be doing next. They needed to get off this ship, get to the crate he'd attached to the outer hull and scuttle the wreck completely.
And then there was that familiar roar, and the slam of something hitting the door as it buckled inward.
"Fear" wasn't quite the right word to describe what Vincent felt. Maybe it had been, a long, long time ago. The Covenant had been the substance of all nightmares then, something that couldn't be fought against or beaten, an inexorable force that you could only hope to run away from. Because that's how it always ended when you fought them. But that had been before Ambrose. It may have dulled with age and time, but the prospect of being cornered, and by one of them again? No, it wasn't fear Vincent felt, or at least not as most might have recognized it. While his skin would prickle in response the feeling that would take hold in his chest instead would be a dull, cold fury.
It wasn't real. Couldn't have been. But if it was close enough to the real thing to be indistinguishable from the actual then Vincent had no problems with using it as he had every member of their race he'd ever fought, a receptacle for every ounce of pain, misery and loss he'd ever felt returned a hundredfold. Helmet having turned to face the door, Vincent would wordlessly finish pulling Miller to his feet before beginning to move towards the dented iris.
"No. Only one of you are coming aboard, and it's most certainly not Eligos. He's the reason your ship's in the state it's in and I'm not risking it with the only clean vessel we have. Make a run for the Beatrice if you have to. It has power, heat and air, and the analogue emergency thrusters should get you clear without having to power up the entire ship. Miller, get that suit on. We'll be making a run for it and I can't guarantee when or if decompression will hit." Vincent said, voice sharp and to the point with a new, cold aggression to it as he reached back with his free hand into the hard case locked to his back and began pulling items from it as he knelt before the door. While relatively well hidden from the three in the room behind him thanks to his bulk, any with extensive experience with explosives would readily recognize the nature of what was pulled from the pack with the brief glimpse available - a custom made roll of shaped strip charge, the kind used for breaching secure, reinforced locations or cutting through dense, highly heat resistant alloys.
None of which this ship was. Over 800 years old, the alloys used in its construction would be cut through like a hot knife through butter. And the Brute on the other side of the door, assuming that's what it was? Well, it wouldn't be there for much longer. Thanks to the door's dented nature the explosives would detonate in a cone shape on the other side, flaying and slicing whatever creature present with knife like jets of molten metal. Brutes were tough, but not that tough, and following quick, practiced movements from Vincent's hands the strips of explosive would be adhered to the deformed surface within moments, detonator in place and primed as the Spartan stood back up again.
"Charges set, detonator primed. Both of you, cover." Vincent said, turning to walk away from the door and towards Miller - hand to the man's shoulder, moving to guide him behind the nearest piece of cover the room offered while keeping his own armored bulk between the civilian and the door the entire time.
Another thud. The door rattled and bent. A roar from behind it, and then, silence. The calm settled as Miller, back on his feet, would look over the proffered EVA suit to quickly gauge it. It certainly wasn't anything he seemed to be familiar with, but he was able to sort it out while the soldier would do his work. A few moments as he looked at the now active wrist unit, noted it was very much readable, and keyed the pressurization sequence.
And then the door creaked, slowly sliding open as large meaty fingers pushed through the growing gap, until the dent in the door panels prevented it from moving further. Another primal roar, a frustrated one, and the fingers wrapped around the edge of the door to now pull the panel backward, a metal groan as steel would strain and bend.
"Clear."
A beep, a pulsing sound, and then the flash as the charges fired. There was a raging howl, a flicker of the lights and a groan through the hull, and then a series of thuds as the remaining panels hit the ground, followed by a monstrous being collapsing to the deck behind it. Massive in height, large enough it clearly would not have fit through the ragged door frame without ducking down. Simian ursine features would be still clear despite the horrendous burns done by the charges, features that the soldier and the witch would remember far too well. Except...something was even more wrong. It's skin was pocked by what appeared to have originally been rot, leaving freshly charred muscle structure and bits of skull visible. One eye was missing, with the connections dangling out of the gaping socket where it would have been.
And despite how it had been sheared into sections by the blast, none of the other damages had been from the charges. Those were decently clear enough on their own, especially the now cooling molten shard lodged in its head.
And then there was a growl from the hallway. A heavy thump as something approached. Something big, something angry…and something that none of them would recognize.
"Not to sound ungrateful for the wake up, but please tell me someone brought something with more punch and range than demolitions charges and a couple of handguns."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 3, 2019 22:18:23 GMT
The sharp, professional response given by the Spartan seemed to help crystallize Eliza's growing ire, bringing her more chaotic impulses into a focused state as adrenaline flooded her system. As he began setting the charge, Eliza moved back a few meters, keeping clear of the immediate blast area while keeping her weapons trained ahead, moving only to avoid flagging her unexpected ally. "Noted. If our ship canna be cleaned, though, and th' Beatrice is also corrupted, we'll still need extraction, so a message out ta Mars would be brilliant so we're na waitin' around fer a day or some shite," she replied before falling silent in response to the clear signal before the Spartan blew the door.
A faint chuckle left the Witch's lips as she moved up, scanning through the breach as she took note of the distinct, yet twisted form prone on the deck. "This would be funny fer how bloody stereotypical this is gettin' if these were na actual a real threat," she remarked. "Feckin' Jiralhanae zombies on a possessed derelict that shouldna even exist? Come on, now, ye're tryin' too hard at this point," she muttered. "We've got more firepower than you might think, Van Winkle," Eliza informed the other man. "Ye jist stick close ta yer new giant friend there and let us sort this bullshite. Eligos, on me!" she snapped as she moved further down the hall. "Sounds like we've got more company, make it feel welcome!" Following this utterance, the armored woman began to chant again, preparing one of her more..obvious spells to be loosed the moment the approaching foe came into visual range.
He paused as the soldier advanced towards the door, noting with some curiosity as the demo charges where placed along the bent door...Wait a second...His twitching gaze moved from the demo charges to his own duffel bag, containing a hefty amount of explosives, and towards Eliza's own demo-pack...Was...Was everyone sent on this salvage mission a sabotage or demo specialist...from different fields? If not by the happytime nightmarish landscape surrounding them, this would have been hilarious. Oh fuck it, he was off the deep end anyway. Laughed exited his lips as the skull mask was brought over his face, chromed skeleton smile adhering to his face, allowing the sweet release of chemicals into his mind, sharpening it for what was to come.
As the blast came, exposing their would-be foe which was...a heavily armoured undead bear. Yea, sure, why not. Undead aliens. Just freaking PEACHY. Even as Eliza told him to approach her, he was far too busy preparing to squeeze the trigger of Mayhem as soon as he could see the approaching hulking target. As soon as it would come into view a blast of flame roared from the exhaust tubes at each side as the explosive blast built up within the barrel, expelling the smooth gun-metal grey projectile. It would move slowly, gently spinning across the air, before the jets along the back activate, imbuing the thick projectile with a burst of speed as it cyclones towards the intended target, the jets aiming to burrow the bullet deep into the hard, decayed tissue of the potential target, before the fuse reached the core explosive, and detonated. Well, that was the plan at least.
He heard Eliza speak that strange language, and thus held back from simply bolting through the door. Nonetheless hew as preparing. The pain receptors on his limbs were shut off leaving them strangely numb, even though they still had the capacity to feel touch and temperature. Next he removed the limitation upon them. He could feel the musculature tense, the skeleton strain as they flex and bend, testing the new strength and speed...The way things were looking, he wasn't going to be able to leave the place unscathed, so..why not go out in style. As soon as whatever Eliza was about to trigger went off, he planned to bolt. He would move past whatever was in their way, for his end goal wasn't to go down in a blaze of fiery glory...No, he was not a god-damn viking. He was aiming for gravity drive.
The thumping got closer and closer, soon revealed to be not one, or two, but several creatures of various species, most unrecognized by the group of humans, charging at them. Another fetid Jiralhanae was among them, a Sangheili with metal spines protruding from its hinged jaws and along its arms. Another was a large reptilian being, a Bryyo'mak, with two sets of arms and a thrashing tail that had been impaled with multiple rods of metal. Surprisingly, they ignored the cyborg, continuing toward the other humans as if he wasn't there.
And then the ship shuddered again, while the lights flickered and a laugh could be heard.
The voice returned, poking, prodding. Demanding, yet soothing at the same time.
"Very good. Do you know what would make me really happy, kid? Turning on the big device at the heart of the ship. You're already on the way, so do me this favor, and I'll keep you safe while you head down there. After all, you still owe me for what you can see now, and what might still come."
The cyborg would feel the urge. The Gravity Drive. To turn it on, set the ship's course. If he did it, he would be protected, rewarded. All it would take was to just listen to the voice. The voice he heard when he had jacked in to the ship. The same voice he could hear in the walls now.
Refined. Controlled. Seducing.
It was promising him safety. And maybe something more.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
A bright flash, a low thump of concussive force and the sounds of heavy metal slamming to the deck would be all Vincent needed to know that the charges had been detonated successfully. The aftermath was fairly predictable. The metal iris was gone, the edges where the shaped charges had been outlined by the dull orange glow of very, very hot alloy while the rest of the door had dropped to the deck. Just on the other side of the door and similarly sliced into a number of different pieces was the Brute that he'd been expecting. Very, very dead, and although something about it was wrong the details were irrelevant and quickly ignored by the Spartan as he trained his weapon on the creature's remains, prepared to fire again if it so much as twitched the wrong way.
Vincent had seen buildings dropped on the things before, and it was never safe to simply assume they were dead. After another handful of seconds, though, the corpse would remain still even as the sound of something likely much bigger made itself known out in the hall beyond, Miller speaking again. This time, however, Vincent did not answer.
We'll make do. We always have.
While aware of Eliza's comments the Spartan would make no outward indication of such, instead focusing on the more immediate concern. They could not stay in that room. They needed out, and that meant going through whatever was in the hallway beyond, and assuming that it was not alone. Eliza clearly intended for herself and Eligos to take point, but the latter could not be relied upon as there was no telling what he would do next - as far as Vincent was concerned the man was just as likely to break off on his own and pursue some personal, madness inspired objective as he was to help them exfiltrate. At the same time keeping Miller safe took priority, and that was not going to be easy to accomplish on the move in an unfamiliar space, especially within close quarters. If Vincent could reach the crate he'd left affixed to the outer hull virtually all of their problems would be a thing of the past, but that was a very big "if".
So, that left Plan B. Plan B and a lot of improvising.
One submachine gun with 200 rounds in reserve, approximately five magazines. The one sidearm, 100 rounds in reserve, four magazines total. Enough prepared shaped charges in strip format for maybe another four doors like that, six individual adhesive cones for locks and precision demolition. Four EMP charges, or shield poppers as many had referred to them, and four flashbangs. No fragmentation or incendiary grenades. One combat knife, Spartan issue that dated back to his first deployment from the Infinity as part of Crimson.
And judging from his motion tracker, multiple hostiles.
He'd make it work.
Leaving his SMG to momentarily hang from the clip on his armor's chestpiece, Vincent would reach down to pull one of the flashbang grenades from a pocket while the other hand would shift one of the standalone shaped charges from the hardcase on his back to a magnetic clip on his left thigh. With Eliza beginning her chant the Spartan would then move the grenade to his left hand and take hold of his SMG again - while the pins on grenades were much harder to pull than most people thought before entering service, for an augmented soldier doing it with one hand wasn't an issue. SMG vaguely aimed in the direction of the door and flashbang at the ready, Vincent would keep one eye on his motion tracker and the incoming contacts as they neared the blasted door.
The moment they were within arm's reach of the iris Vincent would pull the pin and throw the grenade, the hissing cylinder bouncing once off the wall just past the destroyed doorway before detonating, the hallway beyond flashing with the bright white of burning phosphorus and magnesium while the concussive force itself was felt more than heard. Both hands already back on his primary weapon, Vincent would snap the weapon up to the ready and fire at the first two targets to present themselves.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 4, 2019 1:11:56 GMT
Eliza smirked as she moved to the side to avoid the burst of weapons fire that the supersoldier unleashed in the wake of a flashbang grenade, evidently intent on mowing down the deformed- some might even say hellishly so- alien..zombies? It seemed that was indeed the case. A grim sort of amusement dulled the horror she might have otherwise felt, and as she moved to step around the scattered corpse in the door, she released a single mote of flame, which hurtled down the corridor into the midst of the oncoming monstrosities before erupting into a fiery blast that threatened to fill the hall. As the Fireball expanded, the Witch quickly dropped to the deck prone, intending to weather any of the concussion wave or flame that reached her position due to the confined space in which her spell had been unleashed.
If she was successful in this endeavor, Eliza would then quickly rise to her feet, ready to advance through what was hopefully a corridor devoid of contacts for the moment. Simply fighting in one position, after all, was a sure recipe for disaster. "Status?" she questioned over the comms afterward.
Remained still across the barrage of gunfire that erupted from the soldier, idly observing the flare of the fiery blast loosened by Eliza, eyes twitching as he appreciated the infinite variation of the fiery tentacles as they licked at the molten metal upon the side of the once iris door. The gun was still in his hand, softly rumbling in his grasp like a well-behaved engine, eager to join the other rounds being fired against the devilish abominations of mutilated flesh and tortuous decorative metal. Yet the voice spoke.
It was calm. Charismatic. It reminded him of the tone used by certain CEOs, the kind that saw themselves as highway demons, able change and twist one's life on a whim. He hated that kind...but the offer was interesting. Mayhem was silenced and placed in its holster, safety off. He began to walk towards the iris, his hands moving behind him to flick the safety on both Scream and Shout as well, and loosening the straps holding his lockpicks. Safe passage huh? That was quite enticing, after all his own team was counting him on as a liability instead of an early warning system. Well then, he had a plan as well, his own plan. He picked up the helmet still clipped to his hip and placed it on is head zipping up the EVA suit. Predictably the HUD was filled with angry messages from a certain gynoid. Those would have to wait. With a flick of an eye the messages are minimized. He lowered himself past the molten door, adopting a sprinter's stance with the head aiming down the hall, aiming straight to where the drive would await him.
"I have a plan." That was all the warning his teammates would get before the cyborg dashed ahead. Muscle strained and bone strained, the connection areas bruising his core as he pushed them past the normal motions and limits, his digitigrate feet bending metal with each step, his gait widening further and further until his legs stretched way before his body. Soon he was going so fast the only person that could reach him would be the Spartan, the cyborg racing past charred flesh and torn metal, his feet sometimes kicking across the walls to maintain his pace along the relatively narrow hallway.
Despite his weapons being at the ready, his arms were held forward, crossed in front of him as if bracing for impact...the voice had promised safety until he reached his destination. So he was about to stress-test that...He had a plan.
They roared and bellowed, but did not seem otherwise affected by the flashbang. The first two took the following shots well enough at first, but once the combustion of the witch's spell ignited, flames erupted in a massive flush through the corridor. Backdraft would erupt out of the ragged doorway, barely avoided by the remaining group of humans and narrowly outrun by the sprinting cyborg. The creatures were not so fortunate as all that remained as the flames died away were charred meat, blackened bones, and heated metal. The soldier's shields would still be flickering from the sheer heat, but he and Miller were safe, while the witch in her armor felt a bit warm, but suffered onlyca slightly scorched surface to the exposed plates of her hardsuit.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Was the flashbang ineffective? While the creatures definitely seemed aware of the grenade and that it went off none of them had made an attempt to avoid its detonation, nor did they seem to be staggered or dazed by it. Concerning, but ultimately irrelevant - something to keep in mind moving forward, he'd just have to be far more selective with the use of his ordnance. While that left one of his tools ineffective, though, the submachine gun proved to be anything but that. As the creatures entered the doorway and his field of view Vincent would fire off two controlled bursts, the suppressed submachine gun burping out rounds at over nine hundred rounds per minute. The first five round burst would be a relatively close call as three of the rounds missed or grazed the target before the fourth and fifth caught it in the neck and skull respectively, while the second burst would prove far more effective with nearly every round shredding through the space the creature's head had been.
Ten rounds down, thirty left in the magazine.
As Vincent shifted his aim slightly to account for where the next creature was likely to appear, however, the entire hallway beyond would alight in a conflagration of flame, whatever Eliza had been doing utterly obliterating the remaining creatures to leave naught but ash and soot. Weapon held at the ready for several seconds longer, Vincent would only lower his aim upon the motion tracker confirming no additional hostiles, at least none within its 25 meter radius.
"Green. Miller, go." Vincent said, answering Eliza and getting up to advance forward now that the hallway was clear. As more or less predicted, though, Eligos had other plans.
Vincent didn't know what the cyborg was planning or where he was going. It didn't matter. The last thing any of them could afford right now was another variable, and if Vincent could remove it he would. While the Spartan had no idea whether or not Eligos' cybernetics were hardened that was not the target he had in mind as Vincent yanked, primed and chucked one of the EMP grenades he had with all of the strength his armor and enhanced physique granted, aiming as far down the hallway as he could towards where the central corridor intersection was. It was frankly a hail mary in the sense that Vincent couldn't remember if there was a door there blocking further access into the ship or not, but if there was the grenade would hopefully fry the door controls and leave Eligos with only one path to take - outside, towards the Beatrice and exfiltration.
If not it would hopefully make the man pause long enough for the rest of them to catch up.
Taking only a fraction of a second to pull up the transponder signal on Miller's hardsuit and tag it as friendly - changing his corresponding dot on the motion tracker from red to green and allowing the Spartan to know where he was at all times without having to physically turn and look - the supersoldier would stand and start moving at a brisk pace towards the room's exit and the hall beyond, weapon at the ready. Finger all but resting on the trigger without actually touching it, Vincent was more than ready to fire on the next series of targets to present themselves while keeping the group moving.