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He was close. So close. It would all be better. Maybe it would be out of his head. Maybe. Just maybe...
Pain. Sharp blinding pain as his vision went black. The ground was pulled from under his feet as his teeth wiggled against his gums as the cartilage of his nose buckled and broke, filling the back of his throat and his mouth with thick blood, making it so all he could taste was warm iron.
The floor welcomed his back, squeezing his lungs, causing the ball of blood that had built up in mouth to jettison past his lips and nose, a carmine spray that would soon coat the uncloaking armour of the soldier pinning him down. His vision was blurred from the blow, but soon focused, helped by the chemical cocktail still roaming his system, turning the smudged mass of colour and shape into the bulky humanoid shape looming above him. Mechanical limbs twitch along the floor as he wheezed a breath back into his compressed lungs, immediately thankful for the ceramic plates along his pectorals, that now prevented the heavy booth from digging into his soft insides.
Mechanical limbs soon grasped the boot, testing the strength and weight of the armoured fellow above him, mildly surprised as even his enhanced strength proves to be insufficient "Well tall dark and handsome...come here often?" The man joked, flashing a bloodied grin at the soldier above him...that is until his eyes befell the figure in the back, the sole living signature upon the ship. His heartbeat echoed in his lungs, vision tunnelling towards it.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 31, 2019 0:41:40 GMT
Eliza was more than slightly irritated with her manic companion as she finally loosed the pulsing tendril of arcane energy, intending to pull him back and hopefully knock some sense into the man. However, to her surprise, he staggered sharply as if he'd run into a bar. Even so, her grapnel struck true. However, a force unseen held him fast against the pull of her spell, and as she was herself hauled off her feet towards him, the force holding Eligos in place flickered into view. Confusion intensified, as did her dismay, and Eliza twisted in midair, hoping to disengage her spell quickly and simply spring off the unmistakable form of a Spartan. Clearly, they weren't particularly pleased with their intrusion, and Eliza had no intention of engaging one of the legendary supersoldiers in close quarters. Despite her aversion to getting into a fight with the armored figure, she trained her off hand, still clutching her MARS, on their torso.
"Alright, this is na what I had in mind, but ta hell wi it. Let's start wi ye na crushin' my friend here, aye? ..Actually, scratch that, how th' bleedin' hell are ye alive? Donna tell me ye actually were in cryo or some bullshite. This place is entirely too fucked already without dead men walkin' about knockin' teeth free. Even if he was bein' a bit of a twat." Nothing made sense, she thought. A ship that was supposedly destroyed, with a man that was supposedly dead, and never mind the metaphysical aspects that set every hair on her body on end.
"Is that..? Is that a Spartan?" Veska wondered as she stared at the feed display from Eliza's HUD. "And judging by the size, that's not even a Spartan-IV..but how?"
"Believe me, Ves, I'd love ta know that myself. This whole damned ship makes no sense," the Witch muttered as she kept her gaze and point of aim fixed on the massive figure. She wasn't really sure how effective the weapon would even be against that armor. Hopefully, she wouldn't need to find out.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Vincent would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't expecting more of a fight, but it seemed that the blow to the face had helped quite a bit in disorienting the cyborg as his body hit the ground - the limbs that reached up to grasp Vincent's leg wouldn't find much purchase through the frictionless surface of his armor's shielding, and beyond that Eligos didn't seem too keen to start something. Good. Better than Vincent could've hoped for at any rate. That would change as the merc's attention shifted and focused once more on the figure in the pod behind the Spartan, however, suddenly explaining the cyborg's antics... at least to a degree. The problem being that it also brought up a number of additional questions, though, and Vincent wasn't entire sure he wanted answers after what he'd heard over the radio.
"No, you don't. Relax. He's not your problem." Vincent said, a remarkably normal if somewhat weary voice finally leaving the confines of his helmet - somewhat laced with irritation. That only left Lockheed. Helmet tilting up from Eligos, the woman would find herself looking at a gold hued reflection as Vincent took a moment to regard her and the weapon pointed at him, his own SMG still notably lowered and not flagging either of the two present. It looked an awful lot like the sidearm he himself had been issued, although with some minor yet obvious differences. A civilian market variant? Maybe. Regardless, last thing Vincent wanted was this turning into a firefight - he didn't need that kind of paperwork or the practical complications that would come with it in the here and now.
"... you want to be pointing that somewhere else. The last thing either of us needs is someone who's lost it touching things they shouldn't be. He's clearly not in his right mind - you get him under control and he's all yours." Vincent continued, all but ignoring the questions Lockheed posed him. Screw it. He'd let her reach her own conclusions. Better than saying anything that might potentially touch on something classified - his very existence probably counted as such as there was no public announcement made regarding the Anvil's recovery, and that meant potentially uncomfortable questions when he got back regardless.
Eligos was quiet, but not fully idle. He studied the boot so firmly planted upon his chest, observing the semi-reflective surface as it seemingly avoided the grip of his digits. Heavy... His claws extended, industrial diamonds upon the tip, meant to ease his climbing along industrial and corporate buildings and to break through glass. Surprisingly cheap and made good close quarters weapons. He ran the tips along the material as the two talked, head tilting to the side, casually spitting a blood clot, or perhaps a piece of broken tooth. He didn't want to think about that right now. He would get new ones grown if needed, perhaps place titanium caps over his canines just to fuck with people. Hmm risk-resistant. not ceramic. Heavy-duty metal, maybe osmium or wolfram. No...too rare, asteroid mined. Too precious for vessels. Titanium alloy most likely. A click of his tongue would cut through the tense silence. He had planned to jolt the heavy soldier. His batteries had been active as per the full jump,and he hadn't bothered to turn them off yet, his limbs actually feeling hot, a bit too hot actually...a full charge could kill a man, but titanium was rather shitty when it came to conductivity, not to mention the man probably wore some sort of under-suit. Yea,, that wouldn't work...he could use Mayhem. His arms were free, his gun at his hip. This close the shot would damage the gun as well, but it would pierce the heavy-duty armour for sure.
He leaned back against the floor. Apparently docile and resigned, eyes staring blankly to the ceiling above, the flickering lights humming with the pulse of electricity...and something else. His limbs dropped at each side, his right hand almost teasingly caressing the trigger of the gun on his him, his leg bending slightly, just enough for the barrel to be pointed at the man's upper leg even while holstered.
His eyes turned back to the silhouette...Rap, rappity rap rap...Tappity tap tap...
"...The ship is on. I didn't do it. It did it. All by itself. Eliza, you know this ship don't you? If it can turn on, it can jump without any input...Awaken that one over there. Please."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Oct 31, 2019 23:46:33 GMT
Eliza sighed wearily, wincing at the slowly building headache in her temples from the sheer amount of stress she'd been under over the past hour, though she did lower her weapon, if only slightly. "Hands away, Gingerbread Man," Eliza groaned as she focused her full attention on her comrade. "Bloody idiot..Right, so I suppose some introductions, as best can be done, what wi literally everythin' of note about ye're classified ta hell and back," she resumed. "I'm Eliza Lockheed of Arcanus Military Industries, and my addled companion here," the Witch waggled the muzzle of her hand cannon slightly, though her point of aim never left the prone man's thigh. "Is Eligos..Vanth, I believe, of somewhere on Daiban. He jacked into th' ship, which..well, I can tell ye a fair bit, both what I know of her history, and what I've observed, but ye're na gannin ta like it. Short version? Ship's haunted, basically." The woman paused for a moment, weighing the choice of words, then shook her head slightly. "Well, na haunted exactly, but close. It's heavily impacted by extraplanar forces. I've never seen anythin' like this, and I've seen some shite. Personally, I'd rather jist verify whatever survivors might be here, then blow this hulk of fuckery ta scattered atoms," she admitted as she finally returned her MARS to the magnetic holster on her right thigh. "Are there any others we need ta be aware of, so we donna have this awkwardness wi someone else before we leave?"
Cutting off the external speakers of her armor briefly, Eliza then quietly muttered over the comms to her ship. "Veska, jist put this ta th' shipboard computer, but get me a list of UNSC ships that went MIA that were ever disclosed ta have had Spartans on them. Probably willna take long, given th' fractured data of that time, but might get at least some sort of ideas on where th' hell he was sleepin' fer four hundred years or more."
"You realize we could possibly get into trouble prying into this?" Veska questioned softly.
"Bit late fer that, innit? Confed knows I know how ta keep my mouth shut about touchy shite, anyway. Worst case, they'll probably jist fuss a bit and give me a mountain of NDAs..again."
"Alright, then. If you're sure, but I still don't think we're going to get much. Why so insistent, anyway?" the AI wondered, drawing a soft growl from the ashen-haired woman.
"I'll tell ye later," Eliza answered curtly. "But na here. I need my heid clearer than that."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Vincent had no idea whether or not the man currently on his boot was just mentally addled by his attempted interface with the ship or if there was something more mundane at play in the form of some psychotropic drug, but the more Eligos spoke the less inclined the Spartan was to let him up. Especially as movement from the cyborg drew his eye. One of the nice things about MJOLNIR, it was damned difficult to tell where someone was looking or what they were thinking more of the time - even most Spartans needed to get used to it at first.
"Not happening. Not until I know who he is and what I'm dealing with, and that's only if I can't remove the pod wholesale and transport it that way." Vincent replied. A direct answer to Eligos' request even as his own arms shifted slightly, the suppressed SMG's barrel drifting ever so slightly in the direction of the cyborg's head - a not so subtle warning against Eligos' own hands brushing against his weapon, something Lockheed herself would admonish her partner for. Vincent very much doubted that a simple handgun using kinetic rounds would pose much of a threat to his suit's shields - at least before he could retaliate in kind - but that was beside the point. Vincent wasn't looking for a fight here, much less a fair one, and if he could deter Eligos from starting one he would.
Lockheed by comparison at least seemed reasonable, if... well, it was difficult to word it inoffensively. Insane wasn't it by a mile as she seemed completely lucid and well in control of her faculties, but- misinformed? No. The words she was speaking were of the supernatural and the kind of superstition that wasn't as uncommon among the navy as most might've assumed - a few billion miles from air, soil and everything you knew and people tended to develop strange ideas to keep hold of their sanity when all it took was one accident to end it all. But that's all it was. Superstition. And it wasn't the world that Vincent lived in, one governed by cold, hard facts that were largely immutable and open only to interpretation.
Or at least that's what he would've liked to say had it not been for the collective group hallucination earlier and the addled man pinned under his boot - nevermind clear evidence that someone or something had tampered with ship records and apparently done away with the SinoViet crew, not a trace left behind. None of those were things that Vincent could readily explain with what was known so far.
Mulling over those thoughts, Vincent would not immediately answer in kind but only offer a slight nod to Eliza's introductions before speaking again.
"Far as I'm aware, no. Four EVA suits were missing from the Beatrice's airlock, there's an empty one in the hall just outside this room but the owner's still missing. I've got another three transponder signals from the remaining suits, one near what looks like a secondary bridge and two more in the room with the gravity drive." Vincent replied after a moment's consideration. If they wanted to assist in locating the survivors that was fine by him. Frankly it didn't matter to Vincent who found them so long as they were either recovered or confirmed dead, and if Eliza and her partner were being paid to do so they had the motivation.
Eliza, it would seem, had other thoughts on her mind as well with the woman cutting off her armor's external comms while speaking to her shipboard assistant. Times like these were among the few moments that Vincent truly found some degree of enjoyment out of his work.
"Trust like that doesn't last long when you keep eroding it, doing things they've ask you not to. Politely. I especially wouldn't recommend discussing it in front of one of their own." Vincent said, voice still flat and relatively professional although not for lack of at least some effort. Helmet tilting down slightly to make it more readily apparent that he was looking down at Eligos, Vincent would silently regard the cyborg for another few moments before speaking to him again.
"What about you? No one's touching that pod, and I can all but guarantee that I'm fast enough to stop you from trying. You ready to come back to your senses, or comfortable enough on the floor?"
Eligos closed his eyes, hands returning back to the cold metallic surface of the floor, fingers and claws poking a the grating holes as he looked back up at the reflective helmet of the man above him, eyes flickering to catch sight of the gun barrel aimed at him. He should be scared. At any other point adrenaline would be flowing trough him, his heartbeat pounding in is ears, pushing the chemical cocktail in his veins to the absolute limit to the point where the world seemed to slow down, if just for a moment. A breath stretching into eternity, each infinite variation hanging in the ether of space like molasses. But yet...his brain and body seemed to be at odds right now. Out of phase with one another and with the reality around him. After all he had a stranger holding him down, and his own ally aiming down at him..and yet he felt as if they were not the biggest dangers in the room. s He exhaled, eyes opening, blood-shot but clear, his bifid tongue running across his teeth, wiping the pinkish hue from them as he stared up at the soldier. "I'll level with you. I have no idea who you are or why Eliza is so nervous around you. I can't make sense of all the esoteric nonsense she keeps spouting, but it does make me think of the weird societies people with her amount of cash and wealth tend to be part off...I came here because I as asked to. My last mission with her ended with me fighting some unknown a classified alien species whose blood melted straight through y weapon, my cybernetic arm a d the hull of the ship I was in. I'm a rational man believe it or not. Paranoid, yes but who the fuck isn't in this line of work?!"
He shouted, closing his eyes again to breathe. Once. Twice. His eyes opened, dark brown hues looking at his twisted reflection on the helmet. "When I jacked into the ancient systems of this vessel, something spoke...something beckoning and seductive. But there was a second voice. One much less..horrid and abominable. Keep your guns on me if you must, but trust me. You want me to open that pod...I'm pretty sure I saw what happened to the previous crew, and we might be next."
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 1, 2019 1:25:50 GMT
The armored woman listened intently, both to her companion, as well as for any reply from Veska. Silence thus far one the latter end, but she hardly expected an answer straight away. It became quickly apparent, though, that she needed to do more than simply listen, however, if she wished to be seen as more than just a paranoid crazy, even if she couldn't rightly blame the Spartan or Eligos. Magic users were remarkably rare in the Orion Spur, and had been for centuries, after all. "Gotta love that ONI trainin'," she muttered as she reactivated her external comms. "I'd tell ye it's rude ta eavesdrop, but I doubt ye'd listen," the Witch remarked with the faintest hint of humor in her voice. "Anyway, regardin' that 'esoteric nonsense,' as my friend mentioned. "There's a number of forms of energy in th' universe. One of them is..well, it's conveyed by what is called mana, but most call th' energy magic," she explained as she began to draw on her own mana. "Brace," she warned before uttering a short string of harsh, alien words. A moment later, a dull groan rolled from the deck plates around them as everything in a 50-foot radius of herself experienced for a few short seconds 2Gs instead of 1. "Is that proof enough fer ye?" she asked quietly. "Rest of what I said of th' ship makes a damned sight more sense, now, aye? That said, I'm na openin' that pod till I know exactly what's inside."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Calmer, yes. But rational? That was the first collection of words to leave Eligos' mouth that made any degree of sense, and more to the point came off as rational. Vincent still wasn't at all convinced that he could trust the cyborg yet, at least as far as impulsive behavior was concerned, but at least the two weapons pointed in his general direction seemed to have settled Eligos down somewhat. The question was what to do next. Vincent could let him go - move his boot and let the man get to his feet. It was entirely possible that he might make a lunge for the pod's controls, but maybe not. In either case Vincent was all but certain he'd be fast enough to stop the cyborg if he tried. No, the problem was what came after that.
Lockheed might've been perfectly capable of keeping her own skin in one piece but the initial circumstances of this meeting very much implied her ability to keep her partner under control, and Vincent couldn't be in multiple places at once.
So that brought Vincent to the second scenario. If he did let Eligos open that pod. By all outward appearances the man inside was just that, your stock human. Nothing Vincent hadn't handled before, nothing he couldn't handle now. If the man was hostile... it was entirely possible to make him settle down in Vincent absolutely had to, the Spartan had brought medical kits and flesh wounds tended to be nonlethal. But if the man in the pod wasn't responsible for the disappearance of the SinoViet team, well, that created an unfavorable complication. It added yet another civilian to the equation, and one whose ability to protect themselves would be very much in question. That in turn would leave Vincent with someone he'd need to tail since there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to leave someone like that on the Prowler unattended.
There really were no good options here. The closest that Vincent could see to a compromise was Option B, just with physical restraints involved - if it came to it he wasn't above hogtying the man, trade one prison for another and bury him in a veritable straight jacket of restraints and cargo roping rated for several thousand pounds. It wouldn't have been the first time.
What the hell. Better than wasting time.
"... alright. Fine. You win. You want to open that pod, go ahead. But he makes any funny movements and he's getting shot. Assuming he passes that low, low bar he's coming with me regardless. You're not the only one who's going to have questions for him and I'm fairly certain my bosses take precedence over yours." Vincent said, finally lifting his boot and moving it away from Eligos' chest - the submachine gun, however, would remain lowered but still facing in the cyborg's general direction as the Spartan stepped back. As Eliza started speaking only part of Vincent's attention would be devoted to her words, just enough to register what was being said but little effort put into comprehension beyond the surface level. It wasn't until she said words that neither he nor his armor's translation software recognized that Vincent's focus would shift away from Eligos and the man in the pod. Were it not for MJOLNIR and the armor's internal environmental systems adjusting to compensate Vincent was all but certain he would've felt much more of what she had done - the increase in weight was a significant one, and although somewhat surprised by the development it failed to show in much of an external sense.
It'd been one surprise after another since waking up, and Vincent wasn't sure if it was the effects of his prior life experiences or just one development blending into another now that seemed to take the edge away from something he probably should have reacted to far more.
"I almost feel obligated to quote Clarke's Third Law here, but you've made your point. The why of this ship doesn't matter. You had the right idea earlier - the sooner we're off of it, the better, and after that we can scuttle it if we absolutely feel the need to. That'll come after I've done what I came here to, and I suspect you're not getting paid without either recovering the SinoViet crew or proof that they're KIA. That means finding those suits." Vincent said, throwing a glance towards Eliza as he spoke before redirecting his attention back to Eligos and the pod he was doubtlessly going to open, SMG rising somewhat to a more ready position.
As the weight lessened upon his torso, his fingertips braced the grating bellow. The soldier wasn't wrong. He was planning to dash for it. In fact he was planning to kill his pain receptors and redline his cybernetics. The floor and him were very acquaintance by now, so he had noticed that it was all metal grating, no doubt due to the fluid nature of the gravity cushions, in theory if he slammed down with full strength he would be able to break the grates beneath him, unbalancing the bulky soldier and giving him time to reach the switch. Eliza would shoot him, most likely a limb-shot, nothing that could stop him at that point...The big lug would aim for the torso, but the bucky-paper vest would keep him in one shape. He would get slammed and pinned, but not before the switch was flicked...
Thankfully, things didn't reach that point. The boot was removed from his torso,allowing him to tentatively get on his hands and knees, only to get slammed back down by Eliza's...the FUCK WAS THAT?! His head twitched, soon followed by erratic motions from his cybernetic limbs. It was fine. It was all fine. All would be fine. Soon. Second attempt, he jumped onto his feet and without hesitation he moved towards the one occupied pod, black cybernetic fingers stretching forth to press against the switch, initiating the awakening procedures
A series of beeps as bubbles released into the gravity couch. The main display showed a number of body functions slowly rising back to normal, and the form inside started to move as they began to revive. All the while, a groan echoed in the ship's hull, almost a protest.
And then the pod finally cycled open, spilling the contained fluids and releasing its occupant to the cold and stale air. They were male, tall and broad built, with dark skin and black brown hair, and as they hit the deck, the man coughed as he began breathing again, looking to have woken up from a nightmare. He was dressed only in a base pair of undershorts, and clearly was feeling the sterile cold of the ship.
"Holy shit." His voice had a hard accent reminiscent of the North American Republic, and despite his shivering, he was able to bring his breathing under control. He was suffering from the effects of the stasis, clearly a long term affair, but alive and coherent. "Not to sound ungrateful, but is there a heater around here, or something warm to put on?"
It was then as he looked up to see his rescuers that the man was not sure what he was looking at. Confusion, uncertainty…
"Someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 2, 2019 3:02:46 GMT
Eliza relaxed, even cracking a faint smile in response to the Spartan's comment about Clarke's Third Law, a welcome change from the intense wariness the derelict inspired in her. "Oi, Eligos, ye reckon ye could say that a bit less creepily?" she muttered as she stepped back from the pod, ready to react with force if the need arose. However, as the container began to drain out, it seemed clear that for once, something on the Event Horizon was perfectly mundane. Despite this, the nagging feeling she'd had ever since seeing the Spartan persisted, and she quietly opened a second channel, contacting only the supersoldier. "Ye donna need ta answer, na sure that ye'd be legally allowed ta, really, but wi how this ship is, best I have this settled firm in my heid. Ye dinna come off a ship called th' Euclid's Anvil, did ye? I had kin what was lost when she was declared missin'. Last thing I need is some weird entity wi apparently some method of telepathy playin' on doubts like that," she explained quietly before switching her external comms back on.
"So..another livin' fossil," the Witch remarked as she slowly approached the man. "Eliza Lockheed, this is Eligos Vanth, and this bloody giant is..eh, probably classified as all hell, honestly. Ye been in stasis since th' ship went missin'?" she questioned as she removed her hardcase once more to retrieve the single emergency blanket from the medical kit. "Here, should do ye till we find yer clothes. Fair warnin', th' place is bloody mad. Sooner we're out, th' better," she added as she repacked the kit and placed the hardcase back on the back holster.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
As more or less expected the first thing Eligos would do on standing up was move to open the gravity couch, and as he did so Vincent would find his grip on the comically undersized R97 tightening slightly. It was anyone's guess on who that was inside the pod, but now that Vincent was able to turn his attention back to its occupant it was readily apparent that the person was not one of the people he'd originally been sent to find. That just left one of the other possibilities, and neither of which were particularly welcome. In an ideal world this room would have been empty, the suit in the hall occupied by either a dead or alive member of the SinoViet crew, or barring that the man inside the couch would've been one of them. Simple, clean, to the point.
But instead it looked as if there was going to be yet another civilian added to the equation. Another complication, and while it was a generally accepted fact that no mission plan survived implementation things tended to fall apart all the more quickly as more and more unknown variables were thrown into the mix.
For whatever it was worth, though, the man appeared to be far more in control of his faculties than Eligos was, and the first words spoken told Vincent a number of things. Given the time period, Earth born and raised, and judging from the accent, North American. Likely what had been the old United States, probably hailing from the relatively thin geographical band between the deeper south and the northern border. Not that it particularly mattered in the here and now as they had far more immediate and pressing concerns, but it likely would help with identifying him once they were back on Earth... assuming any records of this period had somehow survived to the present.
Interesting to see that being resuscitated from a gravity couch was no less pleasant than the cryo of Vincent's time period, though. Just perhaps minus the regurgitated nutrient paste. One of the not so minor benefits to his augmentations that the Spartan had never quite taken for granted after seeing the stock human personnel struggle with it.
As Eliza moved to help the civilian from the floor and produced a blanket from the hardcase on her back - the kind one might find in a trauma kit - Vincent's memory would instantly bring to mind the open storage locker he'd first seen on entering the room. Taking a half step back towards the edge of the space, the Spartan would reach out with his left arm to touch the partly open locker door, swinging it outwards. Curtly yanking the blue flight suit off and giving it a light toss towards Eliza and the man she was helping, the free hand would quickly gather up the boots and other remaining personal effects before taking another step back towards the pair and dropping them down next to the flight suit.
"You're going home. There's a vacuum rated EVA suit in the hall when you're ready." Vincent said, his reflective golden visor settling onto the civilian as he gave a short but to the point answer to the man's question.
"Questions can wait until later. As you said, sooner we're gone the better. If you two intend to check on those other suits I can forward the transponder signals and their locations, I'd assume those were what you'd been hired to find. In the meantime I'll get our friend here offboard and somewhere safe." Vincent continued, only the slight tilt of his helmet towards Eliza to indicate he was speaking to her instead the second time.
None of this clearly made any sense to the man, but he nodded gratitude as he was handed the blanket and wrapped it around himself. He seemed a bit dazed in some regards, like he was trying to remember something, especially at the comment of the ship being "bloody mad." "I...actually can't even remember when I went into the gravity couch. Can't remember much of how I got in there, to be honest." He sighed, then gave the woman an odd look after recalling the name she gave him. "Lockheed, as in Lockheed-Martin Aerospace? Wasn't aware anyone from the family was still around." A pause as he gave her a further confused look. "Or from the Scottish Sovereignty for that matter."
Attentions were on the veritable giant in armor plates as he accepted the blue flightsuit and took another breath. It was as if he was making sure he was actually still alive before slowly pulling the flightsuit on. "I still remember my crew, at least. We were on a rescue and recovery mission out here in Neptune orbit, our ship is the Lewis and Clark. There were six of us, and an IASA scientist. Have you found any of them yet, then?"
It was clear that whatever disaster had forced him into the gravity couch, he didn't remember it yet, but he was forced to accept for now that something had happened.
Black cybernetic digits remained upon the switch as his eyes fixated upon...upon...Upon the wet wretch spewed forth from the tube. What was this? This was...just a man. A simple man. He couldn't be the answer he was looking for, the one he was hoping for. His fingers twitch against the console casing, the metal and plastic that compose it slowly bending with a slight creak, a few of the buttons cracking.
"You were the only life sign on this ship." His voice came out cold and trembling, spoken through clenched teeth. His hand finally leaves the console, only to join its twin as it ran across his short hair, the palms pressed against his ears, silencing the echoing and groaning noise around him as his digits drum against the back of his head. FUCK! He was about to lose it. He was going to flip. It was...he couldn't deny it any more, something fucky was going on, something he couldn't deal with...he couldn't run, plan, swindle or trick his way out of this one. He...couldn't even understand it.
He would begin to back away, slowly moving away from the area as the voice hit him, as the scream hit him. The shriek in his head is soon echoed by the scream bursting through his throat, his eyes shutting tightly as he kept blindly backing away, only stopping once his back hits a flat surface, and even then his feet keep pushing against the ground, an erratic reaction from his body and mind, borne from a desire to simply get away
"Nononono...It's angry. It's angry with me! With us! It-it will..." His eyes open in a dead stare, gazing past every living person in the room before his limbs drop limply to his sides, dangling as if inactive and shut down, colour draining from his already pale features. The only sign of life would be the erratic motions of his chest, as well as the tips of his bifid tongue poking against his bottom lip. "It will take us..."