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Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 4, 2019 19:28:26 GMT
Back aboard the Dancing Goddess Veska was weighing her options and quickly coming to a conclusion as to what she could do in light of her current circumstances. She said nothing as she abruptly sprinted to what was easily the largest chamber in the entire ship, housing the Fornax drive and reactor. She briefly considered announcing her intentions, but she suspected that the entity, whatever it was, would be able to hear if she spoke. Perhaps it could observe her, as well, but the less warning she gave as to her own plans, the better. Once she reached the reactor, she moved to enact a manual disengagement of the reactor from the ship's systems, an action that would render the Dancing Goddess dead in the water, even with an unknown and possibly virulent being aboard, she believed. The only trouble was that to do so would take a few minutes, even for her, and she wasn't sure how much time those on the Event Horizon had.
Eliza spat a curse as she saw Eligos rocket past and through the aftermath of her Fireball as she got to her feet. "Damn ye, ye daft twat!" the Witch snapped, though she didn't pursue after processing the statement he'd uttered. A plan? she wondered silently. However, as she recalled his behavior and how it'd changed since the questionable decision he'd made to jack into the console earlier, the Witch was forced to consider that perhaps the Daibanese man did have a gambit in mind. Given how he'd conducted himself on the last mission in which they'd both taken part, she felt certain it would be absolutely mad, even if the odds of it succeeding were, given his bizarre luck, relatively decent in her view. "Spartan! Leave him," she snapped as she quickly flagged the docked ship's location on her HUD to make for the Beatrice as suggested. "Bassa's daft, but he's na suicidal. He's got a plan, and we need off this shitehole! Veska, ye caught all that?" she inquired over the comms.
"Oh, I heard," the AI replied in an almost singsong tone. "He's in so much trouble if we all survive this."
"Erm..Veska, what are ye doin'?" Eliza asked, frowning in spite of the situation.
"Things," came the evasive answer. "Can't talk now. Busy."
Kept rushing down the hall, decelerating as he reached the bend at the end, his speed still forcing him to kick away from the wall at a 90º angle before continuing down the dark-metal corridor. So busy and single-minded he was at the moment, that he failed to hear the tell-tale sound of something bouncing behind him...before the electromagnetic wave hit him from behind. His cybernetic limbs were shielded, but only to the point where they could avoid being fried from the blast. But they would still be deactivated. He was mid-step as the wave hit, his muscle systems spasming as if shocked before going fully lax, arms dropping from the position in front of him and limbs falling to continue his motions. Unfortunately he was going at roughly 50 mph, the momentum carrying him forward before he hit the floor, rolling and tumbling amidst a roll of expletives that would have been shared across the comm-link if not for the EMP disabling it for now. That...was unpleasant.
His members twitched, member control slowly returning as he grit his teeth and pushing himself back onto his feet, his first few steps being uncertain, stumbling, with his hands reaching for the walls for support, only to pull away from them as if jolted. No...it was within them. It was around him. It called to him. Sure steps scratched the metal floor as be began to accelerate once more, gaining momentum as he made his way towards the door, aiming to put it between him and the rest of the party, specially seeing as they were not above friendly fire in order to keep him in place. But they didn't get it. They couldn't understand. He needed to be there. As he slowed down his left hand tested the zipper on his duffel bag, hand reaching into the immeasurable darkness within as his digits feel the textured surface of the two grenades handed to him by Seeker...He didn't think about anything. Nothing beyond reaching the drive, nothing beyond that close immediate objective, least the voice in the walls know. And least the team chase after him, damn team-shooting bastards....
Debris would tap against the outer hull of the ship, drifting through the expanse. Attached to the framework structure near the location of the Beatrice was still the jet black ordnance crate, locked on magnetically. It had been undisturbed so far, then suddenly came loose with a violet jerk. And in the near vacuum of space, the footsteps that followed would be silent.
More creature now inhabited the main corridor, some resembling humans and other species within the Spur, but many were unfamiliar as well. They would leave the cyborg be on his course, offering a glance, a snort, but never attacking. His path into the labeled secondary systems control center would be unimpeded, as would it be all the way to the marked door in the schematics as 'First Containment'. Beyond that point was what awaited him.
A nod as Miller kept close to the heavily armored figure. He he stated a moment as he blinked, shaking his head, then looked around as if something had become very clear. "We need to get to the Gravity Drive," he stated with a certainty and authority in his voice. "At the rear. Doctor Weir was obsessed with it, I'm pretty sure that's where we can get some damn answers."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Vincent didn't need to hear those words from Lockheed - aside from the initial EMP grenade he had no intention of bothering with Eligos. If the crazy bastard wanted to stay aboard the Horizon that was his choice. The rest of them? They needed to get off, be it via the Beatrice or a jump into hard vacuum. Vincent's armor had thrusters, and if he needed to he could transport the three of them to the Prowler unassisted. Eligos was the only wild card that he didn't trust aboard the vessel, and with him out of the equation there was really no reason to object to Lockheed's initial plan. The problem was that meant retracing their path outside the ship, down the main corridor.
Twenty plus contacts on his motion tracker alone in this small corner of the ship. No time for finesse.
"Lockheed, as many more of those as you've got in you. Clear a path, I'll buy time and thin their numbers." Vincent said, moving to take cover with Miller in one of the small side alcoves in the hallway to both steady his aim as he let loose with the remainder of his weapon's magazine, shifting from one target to another as they went down with sustained gunfire. As Miller spoke again, however, Vincent was short and to the point with his own response as he deftly dropped the spent magazine and slotted a fresh one into the feed.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 4, 2019 21:57:33 GMT
Eliza growled as she eyed her HUD, uncomfortably aware of the blips on her motion tracker. It was TX-611 all over again, but worse. As more creatures approached, the Witch answered with the sharp crack of both MARS, though with only 8 rounds to each weapon, that was only meant to buy her the time and space to begin casting another Fireball, only marginally more restrained than the last, as she needed to conserve her mana reserves as much as possible. Answering the Spartan verbally wasn't an option at the time, as her voice was needed for the incantation that helped fuel the magic. Talk could wait, she knew. For now, they needed to keep moving, and that meant clearing a path. The moment her sidearms were empty, she holstered them, only to draw her plasma saber and activate the brilliant blue-white blade, as well as the partner dagger integrated into her left gauntlet, ready to continue fighting whatever survived the coming conflagration she then loosed down the corridor.
Veska moved quickly and silently through the motions as she isolated the reactor from the ship's systems physically. If the entity wanted to be such a bother, then it could make such efforts without the Dancing Goddess, thank you very much, thought the AI. Upon completing this task, Veska would depart the engineering section to make for the armory at a swift...drift? Float? Regardless, she would be forced to maneuver in zero-g without any power whatsoever running to the ship. Fortunately, all entry points had manual analogs for when repairs were needed that required the reactor to be disconnected and they weren't in a drydock.
A tap toward his head as indication. "I'm remembering more of what happened. The gravity drive was an attempt by IASA to make a faster than light drive, Doctor Weir described it to my crew as folding space and jumping through another dimension to instantly travel to any point in the universe. That drive was some kind of artificial singularity, made a gravitational hole. I still don't remember all that happened before I was in that tank, but I remember that damn thing was important whatever happened. My gut tells me, we need to get in there, maybe even blow the damn thing up."
A groan in the ship. There were more contacts toward the entry point of the transfer lock, over three dozen, and as disturbing as the sight was, the body features fused into the inner hull were almost screaming, as if begging for freedom.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
So it was more or less as Vincent had guessed while boarding - this ship had been designed for research purposes. Not that it particularly mattered anymore. While Vincent's immediate reaction was one born of muscle memory and many, many years of experience with his helmet snapping around to seek the hiss of an igniting plasma blade, his attention would soon turn back to the intersection ahead on seeing that it was Lockheed... as was the second blast of flame that cleared the hallway, eliminating the remaining hostiles after the eight he had dropped moments before.
He'd selected the submachine gun based on the idea that mobility and stealth would be paramount. It'd been serving admirably so far but it was a weapon meant for service crews and combat engineers, not frontline assault duty, and Vincent found himself very much wishing he'd elected to bring along an MA5 series rifle instead, their status as historical relics be damned. Old Reliable - those guns were practically tailor made for these kind of encounters and a single magazine would've been enough to clear the entire hallway.
The intersection clear of hostile, Vincent would begin moving at a brisk pace once again as Miller spoke only to pause slightly on reaching the crossroads. They were beyond his motion tracker's range, but far, far down the corridor he could see the writhing movement of yet more creatures down in the room that preceded the airlock. A lot of them. Under normal circumstances Vincent would have been more than simply confident in his ability to eliminate each and every one of them in a relatively timely manner, but not when under equipped and not with a civilian in tow. It was entirely possible the Eliza could eliminate them all while they were in a cramped space, but without knowing her limits...
"To hell with it. Plan B. Lockheed, keep an eye on those hostiles, I need to know if they're approaching before they hit my tracker. Keep an eye on Miller, I'll move faster on my own." Vincent said, taking two steps backwards down the corridor leading towards the aft of the ship before properly turning about face and breaking into a dead sprint towards the waypoint still marking the gravity drive. Nothing about him liked this - turning his back on a potential threat, leaving a civilian in a combat zone. But something about what Miller had said resonated with him. Maybe it was just the idea of killing whatever it was controlling this ship. Or even simpler than that, the idea of blowing something up.
He'd always liked breaking things, and more than that had a talent for it. And worst come to worst the hull was thinner around that aft dome - if it came down to it he could burn a hole to the vacuum outside.
"Patch, the gravity drive. I need the control and power junctions. Anything easy to reach that'll interfere with operation." Vincent said, external audio once again silenced as his heavy footfalls carried him straight past Eligos who had tripped and stumbled moments before.
Was still regaining his balance as the hulking mass of the soldier breezed past him, with a momentum far greater than his bulk could have reasonably afforded. Augmented? Power armour? It didn't matter right now, not with that asshole overtaking him and potentially ruining everything.
"You fucking idiot!" His voice roared across the shared comms as soon as the tell-tale click of apparatus turning back on resonated across his ears. The message would be heard by all, but the target was more than clear, if not by the way his helmet flicked in his direction, brown eyes wide and horribly bloodshot.
The cyborg gritted his teeth as power surged trough his limbs, his entire form leaning forward as metal bent under his boots, the EVA suit straining under the pressure as he accelerated forward, breathing deep from his spiked air supply. It was reasonable straight line until the next door over, none of the discount butcher-shop freakshow seemed to be even looking at him...Well, he was about to tiger beetle this shit. His vision tunnelled, focusing only upon distant door, his lack of perception enhancements making so he could even see the individual shapes in his way...they wouldn't hurt him right? Then they better get the fuck out of his way, because he was not letting an overzealous boyscout ruin this for all of them, even if he had to smack against the door at near full speed...his arms could take it.
He had given up on leaving this vessel...unscathed at least. Even now as he pushed towards the very limits physically allowed by his cybernetic enhancements, he could feel the black carbon-based muscle threaten to rupture, his joints popping slightly wrong with each step as the limb over extended ahead of him only to slam down upon the grating. His core should be hurting by now. he had been redlinning for a while now, but the on and off supply of drugs in his system was doing his job. not by numbing his nerves, no, that would be rather dangerous and a dumb thing to do, but by focusing his mind, not allowing the pain to actually bother him.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 5, 2019 0:02:56 GMT
Eliza gave only a short grunt of acknowledgement as she moved to guard Miller, her blades held in an array not unlike a high guard in Polish saber fencing. "Ye heard th' big man, Van Winkle!" the Witch called behind her. "Keep behind me, and give a shout if we have company behind! Otherwise, donna fall behind!" With that curt series of warnings, Eliza moved forward, flicking saber and dagger back and forth in movements that made the burning beams resemble sheets of light for moments at a time, slashing and thrusting with practiced precision against any creature that had the temerity to get to close. Fear found no hold as she focused wholly on her weapons and the horrors that seemed to register only as something to be cut down. If the ship wished to be angry with her, then she would give it something to be angry about, she thought viciously.
Back on the Dancing Goddess, Veska made her way back to the armory, briefly engaging the magnets built into her feet to gain the proper leverage in order to open the manual release to the door. "Let's see..what to grab.." the AI mused quietly before a wide smile crossed her artificial features. Oh. Without power, there was no gravity, so she didn't actually need to worry about a weight limit. "Oh, this will be fun.." she chuckled as she entered the room proper and began to load a hardcase with as many explosives as she could fit. Nor did she stop there, opting to take possession of a rather bulky weapon that in gravity, even she would require a measure of assistance in order to utilize effectively. "Spartan, do you have some good targeting data for me?" she inquired via her helmet's comms. "I may be able to lend some small measure of assistance, even with our ship offline. I just need to get EVA."
As Veska made this inquiry, Eliza continued her steady advance, and she seemed unlikely to slow down any time soon without more significant resistance that wasn't so readily burned through by hot plasma. For all her fury, she was remarkably silent now, moving in something almost like a dance, if dances severed monstrous limbs and littered the deck with malformed bodies venting steam from deadly wounds, that was.
Even as the mechanoid would gather the objectives of her task, several of the darkened lock indicators would light again, a solid red color. The hull would groan, darkening even to her artificial vision, and for a moment, the interior would seem to shrink.
"It's best to leave things you don't understand be, little doll. Stay put."
A red hot glow would emanate from the release, the smell of burning wires and heated metal, and then silence.
"As ridiculous as the structural design of this nightmare is, the power system is probably the most efficient I've seen for any kind of FTL drive." The Macro brought up the schematics to show its point. Indeed, the power coming from the gravity drive was far more than the core reactors that would power the rest of the ship."The gravity drive actually powers itself, and based on this, there are some heavy magnetic fields at play in there."
A group of the freakish creatures would swarm at the soldier, a few of them still wearing what looked like reinforced armor plating. They were still moving fast despite their mutilated state, and strangely, they allowed the cyborg to sprint by while focusing entirely on the Spartan.
The sight before him was one of madness in any other situation. Miller took a breath, then noticed the HUD display in the visor of his borrowed EVA suit. After a moment, he winced, but was breathing calm and steady as he shook his head, and grimaced. "I need to get down there," he stated, cold, steady, and not caring what he might be told by the woman in armor as he raced down the now mostly cleared section of the corridor.
Boots thumped against the deck as a hiss sounded from the now sealing airlock. After awaiting the inner lock doors to clear, metal on metal echoed in the empty corridor, deck plates bending slightly as over a thousand pounds of weight walked calmly down the hall. A momentary pause as they reached a junction, keyed open the iris door, then continued on their way.
The snarling bellow in a centuries long disused Kilrathi dialect was responded to with a brilliant flash and the sharp sound of a laser energy weapon. The thump of a collapsed body was followed by two more in tandem as the heavy boots continued down the corridor and turned a junction into the main corridor.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Spartan Time was a curious thing. Vincent had never been educated on the origins of the phrase beyond the fact that Lieutenant Ambrose had not been the one to coin it, but where it came from didn't really matter. What mattered was what it did. Those who had been good enough or lucky enough to make it all the way to augmentation all experienced it after their defacto graduation. The feeling that the world wasn't right anymore, that things were slow even if you knew they weren't. The disorientation that came with relearning how to properly gauge and adjust every movement, every action. It was more than no longer feeling at home in your own body, as if it had belonged to a stranger and your essence simply placed inside.
But they had adjusted to it. Adapted. Because that's what they did. They survived. Anything less after the blood, pain and loss that had led them to that point had been nothing short of unacceptable, and Onyx had been their crucible - and those who left it, who hadn't washed out from the program were irrevocably changed. Remade into legends, each and every one of them, even if no one outside of ONI had any idea what had been sacrificed in their name.
Stepping past Eligos, the hallway spread out before Vincent and the thirty odd monstrosities in it would seem only a half step away from being frozen in time - and all of the thoughts in his head replaced with something else.
Something pure, a complete clarity of purpose and action independent of conscious thought.
The first creature to cross his path would be little more than an afterthought, bowled over by his sheer mass before falling still as Vincent's boot fell upon it. Another creature, shoulder checked with enough force to throw it to the wall as it attempted to block his path, and the Spartan paid no attention to it but rather the next creature beyond - what had once been a Brute by all outward appearances, but it was difficult to be certain under the amount of self mutilation. As the monster reached for him it would find little but thin air as Vincent juked to the side with a burst from his armor's thrusters to continue straight past it without a glance backwards. Not enough time to consider if it was chasing him, or to check his motion tracker as another creature moved to block his path. Lowering his center of mass, a shoulder slipping underneath the creature's bulk would see it thrown to the relatively low ceiling with a sickening crunch as the Spartan continued in a straight line, narrowly slipping past the outstretched grasp of what had once been an Elite and continuing onward.
Only to find his momentum suddenly halted as something slammed into him from the side, an angle that Vincent had been unable to properly watch as tunnel vision had formed and one that he could not easily redirect oncoming momentum from.
Knocked off his feet by the creature, Vincent would distantly note that his shields, while depleted to roughly half charge, were still active and protecting him. The creature itself, reptilian at a glance but sporting multiple arms, would scrabble over the Spartan to try and pin him in place - a flash of metal and it would fall limp, Vincent yanking the combat knife free of its skull only to see Eligos sprint past, quickly overtaking him within that fraction of a second of opportunity. Catching another glimpse of movement off in the direction he had originally come, Vincent would shift his bulk under the creature he had just killed before delivering a powerful kick, caving in its chest even as it was thrown with enough force to crash into the second oncoming creature.
And then there was a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, all from different directions.
Fire would rip out from his SMG as Vincent quickly got to his feet, the first burst going wide as he sheathed his combat knife before a two handed grip corrected the unfamiliar recoil, tracking the weapon back on target as he sprayed the creatures' upper torsos as he had the earlier ones - what should have been lethal hits, but he wasn't going to waste the time to be sure as he broke into a dead sprint after Eligos. Left hand leaving his weapon but keeping it gripped in his right just in case, the free hand would ready another EMP grenade.
Eligos kept running. The aching pain the built up along the connecting points flowing through his body along with exhilarating adrenaline. He rarely got to run wild like this, carelessly wearing down his cybernetics for the sake of raw speed. Planet-side there was always an obstacle, a curve, a bend, a glass window 10 stories above street level...things that prevented him from enjoying the full extent of his augmentations. For a brief moment he forgot the goal, he forgot the danger, he forgot the big hulking mass of armour that was chasing after him. His heart pounded in his chest, his lungs burned and he felt alive! He was a punk from planet-side Daiban and here he was in the depth of space, running past veritable demons birthed from the very bowels of hell, outrunning a freaking super-soldier on his way to a black perfect sphere while guided by an eldritch voice that echoed from the walls...Fuck life was strange.
It was this voice that brought him back to the direness of their current reality. Not aggressively, no. It was simply guiding him, pulling and urging him on, guiding each of his steps to avoid all obstacles, tugging at him to let him know where he was and where he was going even when his vision could no longer keep up with his own speed. Causing the mutilated hordes to part around him. Right. Not needing to worry about running into something, his hands dug into the duffel bag, retrieving two large clear bottles with the label removed, a dark murky liquid swishing within, The tops were taped over, cloth taped over that, a simple length of torn rags. His thumbs pressed down upon the rags, breaking the black duct tape seal and pushing the cloth down the neck of the bottle in one ease practices motion. A step, the motion causing the liquid to swirl against the top, soaking the cloth. He produced his trusty lighter, the top flicking open to produce a small jolt of electrical plasma, igniting the cloth. He threw one up towards the ceiling, and simply dropped another, allowing it to break behind him, freeing the sticky liquid within amongst shards of glass, all of which igniting to form a curtain of flames and smoke. He doubted this would damage the soldier, but it might prevent the possibility of getting shot in the back.
His goal was at hand, the large door at the end of the hall. He decelerated, hands preventatively reaching out for the console, ready to pop the sucker open and slip inside, planning to close and seal it behind him if possible...This was a solo mission, and they would be better served going elsewhere.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Nov 5, 2019 19:06:57 GMT
Veska frowned as she maneuvered through the darkened corridor, making note of the lit lock panels. It seemed that whatever the entity was, it could supply at least a measure of power to the ship without the reactor involved at all. That complicated matters considerably. For a moment, she considered that it might be necessary to scuttle the ship entirely, but judging by the more restrained influence the entity had on the Dancing Goddess, perhaps her friends on the main vessel could break the hold by inflicting sufficient damage to it? She honestly hadn't the slightest clue. Still, she could probably provide ample support from the exteri- nope. She glared murderously at the cooling manual locking level as she discovered it to be..fused together. "I do believe I hate you, strange being," the AI noted . With the amount of explosives she had in tow, the airlock didn't truly present a problem, at least, not for herself. However, if the ship was indeed still capable of being saved, then Eliza might have less kind things to say about the matter. "Very well, you win this round. But do not call me doll again. I am a highly sophisticated Macro-level Soong-type AI," she huffed irritably as she paced about, actually reactivating the maglocks in her feet just to do so.
Down the corridor Eliza sprinted, blades still moving in a deadly dervish as she kept the way clear for her unarmed and unarmored charge. "Gravity drive, aye?" the Witch asked curtly, still keeping pace with the taller man with seemingly no difficulty. "What sort of recoil can ye manage?" she added, motioning with a movement that was nearly too fast to effectively track to one of her MARS, as well as a pair of spare magazines on either thigh. "There's a mess of shite that direction."
The door controls sparked and snapped after the cyborg finished his work with it. He was inside the marked secondary systems control, a mid point between the entry transfer lock and the main gravity drive section at the rear.
He heard the whisper, the images again he'd seen. A sight of himself, but his flesh was metal. A completed transformation into a being of steel, hovering in the air through twisted energies that warped the air. The promise of the awakened sight he had been given, his mind expanding while others would be driven gibbering mad. And further in, the gravity drive awaited.
An eye would look at the proffered weapon. It looked similar enough to any number of handguns he'd trained with and kept proficiency on. After a moment, Miller took the gun, noticed the various lights and indicators, then gave the woman a glance. "Most guns don't have status indicators and lights on them. Don't tell me this is some kind of ray gun."
The Bryyo'mak dead once more would lay on the deck, while the Brute and the Elite who bore mutilations and had been cast aside already would hurry to cause delay, if not sufferance, on the soldier again. The spray of bullets was enough to put a number of the horde back in their rest, but as the soldier would make his run again, something was standing there, waiting, behind the warped beings he was trying to bypass. Tall, just as he was, clad in what he recognized as ODST armor that was cracked, scorched, even fused in some places, and a helmet that was smashed open to reveal brown eyes, pale skin, and hair slightly than his own that hung down from under the upper broken sections of the faceshield. Features he would know, even after so long, all too well.
"I was starting to wonder when you'd get here to join us, Vincent. You shouldn't have kept your sister waiting so long."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Six hostiles down, two closing from the rear and another twenty eight ahead. Eighteen, discounting the ones of humanoid appearance and build that were incapable of threatening him within MJOLNIR. Miller was steadily closing in from behind at a fairly steady pace, which implied that Eliza was following in his wake and finishing any hostiles Vincent's own charge hadn't killed.
And up ahead, Eligos - opening the door into containment that presumably led into the gravity drive's housing beyond. Door snapping open, the cyborg would step in and Vincent would ready the grenade held in his left hand, weaving past two more of the monstrosities between them and crushing the skull of another that tried to blindside him much as the reptilian had before with a blow from his right elbow. None of them would so much as slow the Spartan down as he drew his arm back in preparation, intending to thread the grenade through the iris as it closed behind Eligos and hopefully buy some additional time to close the gap.
For the first time since boarding the vessel, though, Vincent would hesitate.
It was only for the briefest moment, a combination of the figure he saw standing at the end of the hallway, the voice as they spoke touching at memories long left buried and deliberately forgotten - but it was enough to break through the zen combat state he had achieved, that perfect flow of action independent of conscious thought. And it was long enough to draw his attention as the door snapped shut behind Eligos again, protecting the mad cyborg from further action against his designs. As feeling and conscious thought returned to Vincent, though, it would not be what the malevolent entity that possessed the ship had likely anticipated. Not longing, not loss, not that of love or concern.
It was rage, completely different from the cold fury Vincent had felt earlier.
This was personal, and it had crossed a line that nothing previous had. Anna was dead. Jeremy was dead. And with the earlier hallucinations it wasn't difficult to figure out what had happened - this thing had gotten inside his head much as it had with Eligos and Lockheed. It was impossible to know if this was simply a hallucination draw from decades old survivor's guilt that Vincent had already struggled with and put behind him or something more corporeal like the ghastly abominations surrounding him, but that didn't matter. They were dead, and that was a fact as cold and hard as the rock they had died on.
This thing clearly wanted his attention, and wanted it off of Eligos. Fine. It had it. The grenade in his hand already primed, Vincent would chunk it at a far easier target - the closed door behind the apparition, the EMP charge bouncing to the deck before detonating and wiping whatever shield charge that battered and broken armor may have had. Right hand dropping his SMG to let it hang from its sling, Vincent would draw and aim the MR-1 with the kind of speed any gunsligner would find themselves envious of - and without further hesitation, firing a single shot at the gun's maximum power setting and aimed square at the head of the thing daring to masquerade as one of his own.
Forget exfiltration. One way or another Vincent intended to tear this place apart, slag it down to the very last deck plate and put every last abomination on it six feet under by the time he was done. It was fury and rage unlike anything he'd felt prior to or since the Covenant - and the last time he'd truly felt alive.