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  • Results 1 to 12 of 12

    1. #1

      Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      ((OOC: Read this first – this thread is part of the overall continuity held by the Yggdrasil Crew and thus uses the same rules listed in both Sparrow's Secret Garden and Mango Reinhardt. For the sake of time and sanity, I'm withholding the rules themselves from this post, as well as Cee's own oversized character sheet. Any questions or comments can be directed my way via PM, I'll encourage both and do my best to answer the former and appreciate the latter))

      It was raining.

      She’d never been out in the rain before. Most of her brief existence so far had been spent aboard some starship or other; her few visits dirtside had all managed to happen when the weather had been clement. Clement...great word, clement. It was most of Clementine, and Clementine was a funny word, but it still sounded smart to dumb people. Which was all the people. All of ‘em. All the stupid fuckin’ people...here, wherever here was, and back on Vestusio.

      Yup...raining. Dirty, nasty rain, too. ‘Acid rain’, humans’d call it, and she had to admit, there was enough acid in it that her protoskin was really uncomfortable in it. Human skin’d feel raw and burned after a few minutes too, and the junk’d cause real damage to delicate things like human eyes. Any idiot who went and drank it would be very, very sick in short friggin’ order. Normally the rain wouldn’t have bothered her any - it wouldn’t have even touched her if she hadn’t wanted it to, but now...well.

      Dirty, nasty rain to make dirty, nasty mud. The nasty rain fell from sludgy, oily-looking grey-brown clouds squatting above her, sluggish and ponderous and a lot closer to the ground than clouds tended to be. They stretched from horizon to horizon, obscuring whatever sun orbited this dismal world, and the rain that fell from them in a steady, unceasing shower struck equally sludgy, oily-looking grey-brown dirt and made it sludgy, oily-looking grey-brown mud. She was flat on her back in it, too. Gritty, smelly, skanky mud that irritated her protoskin a lot more than the rain did. It felt like the sort of mud you’d find in a disreputable junkyard after a long rainstorm’d had plenty of time to wash all the grunge and grime and old, degrading fluids of a thousand different broken-down mechanisms into the soil.

      So far as Cee could tell, it felt like that because that was pretty much exactly what it was.

      The android could see the stripped-down, twisted-up wreckage of old, corroded machines piled up haphazardly all around her; silent, inert and forlorn, monuments to ages gone by decaying bit by tiny bit into nothingness beneath the oppressive skies and their filthy rain. She didn’t have to look hard - the rusty hulks were everywhere. Most of them were well beyond any point at which they might have been salvaged. Most of them were beyond being worth the effort to melt down for materials. Some of them looked like they might be approaching the point at which they’d start to interest archaeologists.

      Yup...it was raining, and she was out in the rain for the first time. Out in the acid rain, laying in grody-ass junkyard mud, so badly damaged from the fighting on Vestusio that she couldn’t even bring up her Ether Field to keep the rain from irritating her skin and further corroding the burnt-off ends of exposed, damaged circuits.

      Another mark in the “really shitty first experiences” column. Downright offensive how much longer that column was than the “pretty boss first experiences” column. Hell, at this point she’d settle for the “anything that doesn’t go in ‘Shitty’” column being longer than the Shitty column.

      Really sucked that her first really major battle was so firmly in the Shitty column itself.

      The fighting on and above Vestusio had been brutal. U-TIC warships had emerged damn near right on top of the orbital shipyards, and not a goddamned peep had been sounded from the Yggdrasil warning of their approach. It looked to've been a fairly typical task group – a pittance compared to the ridiculous organization's total resources, but an entire goddamned star navy by anyone else's standards. A dozen capital ships and their entire compliment of escorting cruisers and destroyers, arrayed around a dreadnought three times the size of the Yggdrasil. Thousands of mecha, more thousands of well-armed, well-trained infantry. A stiff backing of far more powerful individuals, U-TIC Enforcers sent to give the task group commander a stiff right fist with which to shatter his foe's defenses.

      Cee had discovered something, when the task group had shown up. It'd never triggered before when she'd simply been perusing the Crew's databases, but when she'd realized that the megalithic organization was here, all up in her hizzouse, she'd flashed into an instantaneous rage. Enemy!, every electronic instinct in her messed-up head had screamed, and she hadn't even questioned it. She had hurled herself into battle – not to defend the Yggdrasil Crew or Vestusio, but to shatter her enemies. To attack, to rend and destroy the focus of her unexpected hatred.

      She'd thrown everything she had at the U-TIC attackers, pretty much literally. The Virtue of Order, her birthplace and personal warship, was gone – she'd attempted to ram the task group's dreadnought with it, but had been forced to settle for one of the group's escorting battleships, instead. She'd still traded the Virtue for twice its own tonnage in enemy vessel, and the subsequent detonation of the Virtue's reactors had taken out at least a hundred enemy mecha and severely damaged a light cruiser as well, but the loss of a single battleship and its escorts hadn't even slowed the enemy's assault.

      She'd lost the Wildschwein next, after the fighting had landed. U-TIC had gone straight for the Desert Base like they'd known it was there. Which, obviously, they did. The Yggdrasil itself was the focus of fully half the task group's ire, but the rest of it had struck like a piston hammer against the rest of the Crew's assets on the world. Cee's Wildschwein C-Type wasn't a particularly powerful machine by Crew standards – it had never been a top contender before, and Cee's modifications hadn't emphasized battle capability. She hadn't expected to need the “Schwein, save as an interface for the Daikami. The machine had served valiantly, but even with Cee feeding its E-Amp systems to capacity, it had only been a matter of time before the machine was destroyed.

      Almost all of her personal sub-armaments were gone, spent ruthlessly in the fighting around the Desert Base. So was Arkvalanvolg – though the final Song the goddess Maria had sung when her prison had been shattered wouldn't be forgotten any time soon, oh no. Still...Ark was gone. So, for that matter, was a good fraction of her. The stump of her right arm, severed just below the shoulder by an enemy's serrated claws, was the most obvious loss. A fist-sized hole had been blasted through her stomach, right over where most humans kept their left kidney. She'd kept one of her primary power regulators there; without it the useable output from her Fire of Order was sharply reduced. Her left thigh had taken a deep gash, courtesy of the same foe who'd claimed her arm, and a spectacularly unlucky hit from some goon with a javelin-equipped MWS had shattered the structure of her left knee. The leg was almost unusable – her knee was frozen, and the strike to her thigh had severed the primary motor-control myomer there. A dozen other injuries clamored for attention in the section of her shell programming that dealt with telemetry and damage control.

      Yup...she'd inherited all of Crim's blatant disregard for his own personal safety, his penchant for outrageous recklessness and hideous self-endangerment, but unlike the good Captain, Cee had never been meant to operate far from reliable repair facilities. Her own capacity for self-repair was limited to minor maintenance and the clean-up of small, incidental injuries; extensive redundancies were designed to keep her going through the ravages of damn near anything that couldn't outright obliterate her, but there hadn't been room in her hull for the bulky systems that would allow her to repair herself the way Crim could regenerate from injuries. She could survive such damage, and she was as good as they came at avoiding it in the first place – which was what she'd been meant to do, before Crim had gone and slapped his nasty hand on her imprinting systems – but she was largely unable to repair herself.

      When the fighting had finally degraded her systems to the point where even she was forced to flee, she'd done so through the DTS Gate in the depths of the Desert Base. She'd put up a fighting retreat, cycling the Gate through several randomizing routines in order to conceal her eventual destination from her attackers. She couldn't crack the Base's security enough to trigger its self-destructs, but she had managed to rig the Gate to slag itself after her passing. Unfortunately, that left her rather firmly where she was now.

      Namely...out in the acid rain, lying in the filthy mud of an unknown world, severely damaged and with only a single weapon – Gunsmoke – and a few trinkets to her name. She didn't have any ammunition left for the revolver. She barely even had any clothes anymore, that was how pathetic her current state was. For shame – here she was, lying three-quarters naked in the mud without a single man involved. Blah. Not that there was a lot of mud-wrasslin' she could do right now anyways, as wrecked as she was. Double blah. All the blah.

      Oh well...at least she'd gotten a bigger chunk of the U-TIC group than its commander had budgeted for. If her estimates were right, she'd managed to personally account for nearly eight percent of the total force U-TIC had deployed against Vestusio all on her lonesome. Take that, Charlie. See how quick you can rustle up replacements for nearly a tenth of your combat strength out in the sticks.

      After a few more moments of bitter recriminations, Cee affected a long, resigned sigh. “All right...who the fuck's out there and how long're ya gonna stand there and make eyes at my cleavage?”

    2. #2
      Shin Fenrir's Avatar
      Join Date
      Apr 2003
      AL Points

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"


      { Theme – Drifters }

      A heavy downpour was on the list of many other cumbersome issues that made today one of the worst this week. Today’s mission was, by unanimous vote, one of the most vital in the recent salvage missions for the town. Howard Samson, a renowned salvager for District Seven was of course selected for the mission. In his capable hands, this was just another walk in the park for a seasoned veteran like himself. The air felt uncomfortable and humid, the pores of his skin itching mildly at the anticipation of the oncoming rainfall. This was going to be a bad day, he thought.
      Howard’s camp was located only a few miles away from their target, the Recycle Ruins. Nicknamed for what it used to be, it was a ruined factory and graveyard for used and recycled mechanical and transportation material used during the Energy Era, or so they called it. His mission was simple: Infiltrate, and salvage usable materials to repair current reactors and spare parts for transportation and shelter.
      Leaving the safe confines of the small tented encampment, several people carrying what looked like thinner wakeboards, stood in a line facing the ruins only a few miles away in the horizon. Their faces were hidden by black gas masks, their bodies wrapped heavily with torn clothes resembling scarves, and heavy olive green hooded trench coats zipped and buttoned to conceal their arms, upper legs, and torso. Equipped with what looked like steel rods with a crystal stone as the tips, they took off into a dead sprint. Their rubber boots kicking up clouds of dust and sand into the air, they carried their boards on their sides, the multiple sounds of labored breathing through their masks echoing a distorted symphony of sound into the open dull air. In an instant, as if by synchronized practice, the group jumped into the air and in one fluid motion swung their sleek metallic boards beneath their feet and hovered over the ground several feet into the air. Two small lights located at the tails of their boards indicated that their boards were activated, and using the momentum of their running start, the group was headed towards the ruins at breakneck speed.
      Hoverboards were a constant use of transportation for the people of this world in this era. They were no longer than half the size of their rider, and wide enough for only one person to ride on. They primarily worked on gathered solar energy, and conducted free levitation through the use of metal and steel found through the world. The surface of the board was a flat sleek metal alloy, the bottom, a similar material with ridges to allow for aerodynamic coordination and to cut wind resistance. As the group hovered over barren land of sand and dirt, debris of metal lay before them buried in the ground partway. The warm and acrid dew of the deserted landscape fogged a few of the rider’s mask lenses as they weaved between one another and over metal constructs left behind from ages past. They arrived at the foot of the entrance, or what would be called an entrance. A melted gate half opened, its chained hinges degraded to powder and loose wads of metal on the ground. The factory looked worse for the wear within its stronghold. The foundations having collapsed, windows shattered, rogue winds tossing any remaining valuable to the hardened dirt floor holding ages of mutilation from the acid rains that poured throughout their world on a daily basis.
      A storm was brewing above, the group noticed, as they entered the factory grounds. They hovered along quietly, brandishing their steel rods to their chests ready to strike as they cut corners and entered the center court of the factory grounds. The factory building which lay pathetically in front of them rested on a slant and sank deep into the ground. The sound of their breathing was likely the only sound within the grounds alongside small rumbles of the thunderstorm reeling toward them. Howard, the leader of the riders on this mission, signaled for them to come to a halt and disembark from their boards. They slid the surface of their boards directly to their backs, and a small click sounded as each rider’s board clicked to their clothed backs. Two members held their boards, an extra pair of boards resting on their backs, they looked like the carriers for the supplies hopefully recovered from the mission.
      Words were not used throughout their communication from the time they geared up to their entry into the factory building. Hand signals and taps were commonly used among them to separate and search independently. Signal flares shot into the air once to alarm the group that they had found something.
      The factory grounds lay rusted, rotted, corroded, and peeled open. Piles of junk lay scattered across the grounds like a junkyard. Towers of metallic pieces serving a purpose in some past life, lie dead and abandoned among the mass ensemble of ruined car parts, accessories for appliances, and melted engines. Nothing remarkable stood out within this junkyard, and mostly all of the towers of junked material were knocked over or looked pilfered for anything remotely salvageable. The group spent about an hour digging through piles of junk, when the signal was shot.
      Howard was among the first to arrive to the scene when they group rejoined. They lay close to the ground of what was a hill overlooking a dumping ground. In its midst lay several recently dead bodies of thieves and looters. Their valuables stripped, the acid rain burning and reducing their bones and skin to hardly anything recognizable. As they watched, they communicated through hand signals. Realizing that they might not be alone here, Howard chided his partner for using a flare, in fear that it could have lured the perpetrators to their location.
      Exercising extreme caution, the group of rider’s retreated to the inner depths of the concaved factory building. The storm had arrived, and with it, the pelting acid rain that destroyed and deformed this area into a dumpy mess. Seeking shelter, they found several useful materials for their smelting reactor and plenty more important resources. However, their cargo transport board could not hold the large amount of material they had recovered. They would need to make two trips, and in the acid rain, it was too risky to even consider. Fortunately for the riders, Howard was a quick thinker. He commanded four of the riders to return to their encampment so that two could transport goods to the village, while two others would return with the extra boards they brought for just this occasion. Left with only three other riders, Howard would proceed to salvage more parts, while this small side mission would take its course.
      Thing wouldn’t always go as planned though, he thought. And how right he was when a break in the storm had left the abused ruins a moment of respite. They hovered across a majority of the grounds, searching for more valuable parts, but found nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until hovering past a certain pillar of junk he came across something, extraordinary. The group of riders concealed themselves behind the tower of junk, observing what looked like a naked woman. They had never seen anything like it before, especially out in the dangerous open world, and unprotected in the acidic rainfall. The more their observed, the more realistic she appeared to them. They argued through hand signals, deciding what to do with her, when she spoke out in a most annoyed tone.
      Friend or foe, Howard had to answer now. She had detected them somehow, quite possibly from the breathing of their masks, and he rose from his crouch. He stepped away from the pile of junk that hid his group, and walked forward, gripping his steel rod tight, making careful steps toward her. Inside his suit, he swallowed deep, his sweat sticking his clothes tight to his body making his movements uncomfortable. She was a knockout to look at, he thought as he approached cautiously. What remained of her clothes looked torn, burned, and smudged with mud from the ground she lay on. She looked worse for the wear. Yet, no blood trailed from her injuries, as he noted. What was she? As his mind asked questions, one of his men must have noticed too, that she was unnatural. Whatever she was, had spooked Howard’s partner, and the rider raced over to strike at her. Fear taking the best of this rider, Howard was too late to stop him. He raced over inevitably to watch what would unfold next. He was about to witnessed something abnormal and dangerous, and he had front row tickets to the show. His partner leaped up into the air, his steel rod arched over his back in preparation for an overhead downward swing, lightning from the acidic storm flashing nearby as it triggered a fatal mistake for the attacker. Howard’s world was about to change, forever.

    3. #3

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      Well shit. That was just impolite; here she was giving some jackass a free show and the first thing he did when she called him on it was try to cave in her skull with a stick. Nuh-uh. No sirree, that just wasn't gonna stand.

      As the man jumped up, fear and desperation flashing in his eyes, spittle flashing from his lips and light flashing from his bashin' stick, Cee's one good leg lashed up and out with him. The toe of her right boot, which was basically the last fully intact piece of clothing she had left, thundered into the man's crotch with the explosive force of a thousand angry suns. An artificial sonic boom blasted out from Cee's throat to emphasize the point as she pushed, following through with her kick and sending the man flying much further than he'd anticipated, propelled by earth-shattering nut shot nearly twenty feet to slam head-first into a pile of refuse which, fortunately, was old and corroded enough to collapse into mush under the impact rather than splatter the man. Hands went to groins across the field as men throughout the squad shivered in sympathetic reaction, while the attacker himself twitched spasmodically, curling slowly into a fetal ball of torment.

      “Anyone else not like meatballs with their noodles?” Cee asked crossly. “Seriously! What kind of man attacks a lady when she's badly injured, nearly naked and flat on her back in the mud?! You're supposed to offer me a gentlemanly hand up and then give me your coat to preserve my delicate modesty, idiots! Either that or try to gangrape me, but still! That's at least five points offa each and every one of your Man Cards! UGH!

      After that, Cee leveraged herself up into a sitting position, glaring around her at a bunch of very nervous-looking men in heavy trench coats, antique-looking gas masks, and cradling strange surfboard-looking things of some sort. She gave them a few moments to collect themselves, then barked, “Well?! Still indecent here!”

      The men flinched, and one of them said diffidently, “But...it's raining...”

      Cee grunted, unwilling to acknowledge the point even as she acknowledged the point. “All right then...you,” she said, reaching back behind her with her remaining arm and flashing her X-Weasel lightwhip into existence, generating another flinch from the Hood Squad. The device was one of very few intact weapon systems Cee had left, insofar as it was both present and functional and that its power requirements could still be met by Cee's badly mauled regulator systems. The lightwhip's tip curled around the ankle of the man whose bloodline Cee had put in danger, allowing the android to yank him out of the garbage pile he'd fallen into and over next to her.

      “Alright, you cockhead. You're the one who took a swing at me; you get to walk home in the rain,” Cee muttered as she started unbuckling the man's coat. Her most recent victim put up a feeble struggle, reaching up shaky hands to try and throw her off – an action swiftly aborted when Cee balled up a fist and blasted him in the stones again. A muffled squeak of mortal agony gasped its way through the mask and Cee had no further trouble relieving the poor, tortured soul of his coat and leaving him to the much more meager protections of his layered rags. The man got no sympathy from Cee – he at least had layered rags; she had one boot, half a shirt, and not nearly enough skirt under about three quarters of her armsman's belt.

      “Your donation is not tax-deductable,” Cee told the man firmly as she levered herself upright, using the hastily-repaired, badly weakened muscles of her left leg only sparingly. She flipped her newly-won green trenchcoat over her shoulders, letting the sleeves hang loose for now, and spent a moment glaring at each and every expressionless-yet-still-oddly-terrified-looking gas mask in turn.

      “All right, you sorry sack of fucking duck-suckers! Which one of you is gonna cop to being in charge of this shindig?”

      After a moment's tense silence, one of the batch of anonymous mask-wearers stepped forward. “I am,” he said. “My name is Howard. You don't act like one of them...what are you?”

      Cee snorted, nonetheless filing the reference to “them” in her Further Investigation mental bin. “Your tiny human brain couldn't comprehend the magnificence of my construction,” she told him off pompously, and never mind that her construction wasn't holding up too magnificently at the moment. “You may refer to me as Cee. Or as Most Beautiful Mistress, if you're feeling particularly obsequious. I have never seen this nasty shitball of a planet before in my life. I require vodka, access to the best technology labs and components you've got, clothes that are neither damaged nor hideous, and a History Lesson, in that order. If I get all of that, I may forgive the lot of you for staring at my tits while I was napping in the mud.”

      His mask hid Howard's expression as Cee laid out her demands, but did nothing to conceal the lengthy pause after she was done. “I'll...see what I can do,” he finally said, sounding very uncertain and wishy-washy for the man who claimed to be in charge. Had Cee been feeling charitable, she'd've chalked that up to his having been thrust into an unprecedented situation facing a crazy robot chick who'd already proven herself an Enemy to All Man-kind making all kinds of probably-unreasonable demands...but Cee wasn't actually feeling remotely charitable, so she chalked it up to Howard being something of a putz instead.

      “Chop chop, Lenard! This battle damage isn't gonna repair itself!” she snapped at him, and the man visibly perked up.

      Battle damage?” he asked nervously. Cee snorted scornfully.

      “Yeah, from the fuckin' planetwide war I just got done losing,” she bit off bitterly. “Don't you worry your pretty little head about it – all that's on the other side of the Gate, and the Gate isn't there anymore. None of it's coming here except me, and I'm already here. Come on! Explanations can wait, let's get back to wherever you keep your tech labs already!”

      “I don't think that's a good idea,” Howard replied, shifting his grip on his own beat-up metal stick.

      Cee scowled, eyed the staff for a moment herself...then snapped her right arm out and snatched it from Howard's hands with a flicker of her X-Weasel. The staff smacked smartly into her own hand, at which point she flipped one end of it up into her armpit before using the leverage so gained to bend it nearly ninety degrees.

      “These aren't really gonna help you guys much,” she said as she tossed the kinked-up length of metal back to a much more nervous Howard. “Seriously! If you guys'd come across a critically injured human out here mostly naked in the rain you wouldn't have even had to hesitate before helping her, right?!”

      The squad's surprised silence was quite telling. Cee glanced around at the impassive, oddly mask-like expressions of the gas masks around her, then turned back to Howard. “Right then, Maynard. A revision: History Lesson first. The fuck happened on this rock that has you folks so squirrely?”

      “...if I am to take you at your word, I hardly know where to begin,” Howard responded gravely. “Come...we'll take her to Outpost 3. We need to get Jacob out of the rain,” he said to his team. “Someone please get him on his board. If you'd be so kind as to avoid any more unpleasantness, Miss Cee?” the man asked Cee.

      “Not Missy, Cee,” the android grunted back irritably. Nevertheless, she knew that this 'Outpost 3' was the best she was going to get until these folks had the remotest reason to trust her. As such, she shrugged. “Only if you fuckers'd be so kind as to stop trying to brain me with those damn things,” she snapped, eying Howard's destroyed staff. “I may not be so nice to the next guy who tries it,” she growled.

      Choosing – wisely – to ignore Cee for the moment, Howard oversaw securing poor, moaning Jacob to his board and securing Jacob's board to Howard's own. It was a dicey operation, but it was the best way they had to transport an injured man – a definition not a single soul declined to apply to Jacob just then.

      “Very well then,” Howard said when Jacob was securely stowed on his board. “Keynan, please lend Cee your spare,” he said to one of the men with a second board strapped to his back. Obviously reluctant, the man handed over the board anyways, floating it over to Cee with a gentle kick without getting any closer to her than he had to. Cee caught it with her bad leg, mostly because she didn't quite want to trust her weight to it yet. She climbed onto it, stabilizing herself instinctively and unknowingly earning herself a very small measure of respect – riding those things took a lot of practice for most folks.

      “Let's go,” Howard said, using the staff he'd recovered from Jacob to start poling his board forward like a Turaga swamp hick on his raft. The rest of the men followed suit – save for one, who staggered and nearly fell off his board as he encountered a great deal more weight than he'd expected. Looking back, he saw Cee's X-Weasel snagged on the same tow bar they'd fastened Jacob's board to Howard's with. He looked up at her, accusation clear even through his mask.

      “I ain't got no damn stick!” she snapped irritably at the man. “C'mon, we're losing 'em. Mush!”

      Mush the man did, all the way to Outpost 3.

    4. #4
      Like the Fist of an Angry God...
      Negatomsk's Avatar
      Join Date
      Sep 2005
      AL Points

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      As a soldier he'd watched countless men and women die -- he'd killed many of them himself -- but no two had ever died the same. Kaz, fighting to protect his wife and child as Resolution had when he was but a man himself, Kaz had died slowly from a gut wound, bleeding, agonizing, crying, pleading for his family as he stared into Resolution's eyes, his own growing dim. Feya had die quietly, alone during the night from the woulds she'd received from a roadside bomb. He'd heard her go, her strained, heavy breaths slowing and stopping as if she had simply surrendered to the inevitability. The scientist Levan, a military researcher for the enemy, one of the men who had brought the tanks and war machines to Resolution's own homeworld, he had died angry, brow furrowed with rage, hateful eyes gazing up at his killer as Resolution's chains choked the life from the man. Since his rebirth he had seen so much death, and he had seen the fear, the anger, the hatred behind those deaths. The honesty of a human being's final moments, where many accepted their final fate and the weight of their own sin, or clawed and pleaded and hoped against hope that they would survive to see another day, to either right past wrongs or to enjoy themselves just a bit more before they shuffled off to the beyond.

      Reso had been hiding on this world, in this scrapyard for several months now and he had yet to see one of these men, these scavengers die. There had been accidents yes, and he had seen dead bodies, but he had not been able to watch, to witness firsthand as any of their number came face to face with their own mortality. Nor had he found any reason to exterminate any of them himself. They searched for scrap, for disabled or failing cyborgs and androids, other machines and valuable bits of equipment that they could haul back to their outposts, or else, for creatures they could kill and eat to sustain themselves. It was a simple matter to keep himself and his bike hidden from them -- most times his own skills for stealth proved enough, though he'd been forced to cloak himself every once in a while his motorcycle, the Hard Drive had needed hiding far more often. Today he had chosen the burnt out hulk of a rusted out and nearly-unidentifiable land vehicle as his hiding place. The scavengers had searched it thoroughly the day before along with the pile upon which it sat, making him rather confident that they would not venture this way again anytime soon. A wise choice indeed, once the rain had started -- several windows towards the rear were still in tact, giving him both an advantageous point from which to watch the men, as well as shelter from the acid rain.

      At the sudden atmospheric disturbances he had sank further into his seat, readying to make a quick departure in the face of whatever it was that was apparently arriving, but the sudden appearance of the near naked and heavily wounde-- damaged woman drew him upright again as he peered down upon her. At a glance it was obvious enough that she was less than human and a cursory scan of her systems revealed that far from being an mere android, she was in fact a highly advanced artificial lifeform -- weapon akin to himself. He didn't even need to tap at the firewalls protecting her more advanced programming to know that programming was complicated, intricate enough to rival his own, and anyone skilled enough to write it would undoubtedly have encrypted it with a security measures that would take even a hacker as talented as he considerable time to crack. Not that he had any reason to make such an attempt... from the look of her, set against them, this might well be her dying day. Even with as much power as she still held inside her reserve systems, she was severely damaged, and he'd yet to encounter any technology among the scavengers or any others to pass through here that suggested she would be able to repair herself on this world. He could be wrong, of course, but more than that, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd even live that long. He turned his attention towards the alert he'd received from the Hard Drive. The scavengers were approaching. Perhaps he'd get to see someone die here after all. Perhaps her, but more likely one of them.

      And then she spoke. He ducked back behind the window slightly, his gaze never leaving her. She'd no doubt realized she'd been scanned, but by whom or what was likely -- hopefully -- still unknown, unknowable. In her voice, Resolution had heard neither fear nor resignation. He'd heard... irritation. Anger. Resolve. The scavengers couldn't have picked a better time to happen upon her, either. They'd be the ones to take the blame, at least for now. As she searched their bodies and learned they possessed no such equipment her suspicions would grow once more. One of the men raised his weapon and moved to strike. It was over for him. Or not. She booted him firmly in the groin, launching him into the air. He might have died if not for the scrap he crashed into, weakened by innumerable acid baths such as the one raining down upon them now. Was that a calculated attack, or had she indeed meant to kill him? She likely -- hadn't she'd offered the rest amnesty in exchange for aid and clothing. Perhaps she was bargaining now from a position of power. Perhaps her intentions were indeed to allow them to live regardless. Resolution couldn't be sure. This... woman known as Cee was as yet unlike any other life form he'd encountered. Foul-mouthed and crude, and yet she still knew restraint. If she could have kicked the man hard enough to launch him that far, she could have also shattered his pelvis, instantly dooming him to an agonizing and horrific death out here in the mud under the poisoned sky. She divested her poor victim of his coat, donning it as she began... barking orders. She asked for information. Offered concessions.

      If this Cee was indeed near death she did not intend to be for long. She might make it out of this yet. At mention of the Gate, he leaned against the window, brow furrowed as he focused all of his attention upon the girl again. The Gate. What Gate? The disturbance through which she'd arrived? It was similar in form perhaps to his own Conveyance, but was it indeed another Gateway? It would make sense... the method of her programming... Had Peter built another? Was she another Random? Or another Resolution, like himself? She was intelligent. She possessed free-will, but was she a sister or merely a distant "relative"? Had she known the touch of the same hand that had crafted him, or had she been built by another? The scavengers had already left, and she was leaving with them. The door to the transport in which he'd hidden had rusted shut in the rain. The scavengers -- and the girl, Cee -- were already clear of the scrapyard by the time he managed to punt the door off of its hinges.

      The rain burning his skin, his eyes, he turned his gaze in the direction of Outpost 3 as the Hard Drive exploded forth from beneath a pile of scrap he'd buried it beneath last night. Vaulting from the scrap pile upon which he'd hidden, Resolution landed astride the bike, gripping the handlebars tightly as he opened the throttle, speeding across the sand while kicking up mountainous twin rooster-tails of sand in his wake. Nevermind whether or not she'd be able to sense his approach -- she'd be able to see it, as a pretty boy with a 5' long ponytail riding a 15' long motorcycle with flaming tires would be pretty hard to miss. Resolution wanted her to see him now (at least his Sleeper form), the scavengers be damned. He had a few questions to ask her, and -- and the if mood struck him -- he might even see fit to assist in her repairs.

      Testing, one, two, three, testing...

      It was a simple broadcast, with a simple enough encryption, at least to one of her complexity. If she was unable to crack it then he'd have to rethink his assessment of her. If she were unwilling to, or simply unwilling to respond, then he'd be the one out of luck.

      You'll have to forgive me for poking around earlier but I couldn't help but notice that at our core you and I are quite a bit alike. Machines, built and armed for war... My name is Resolution, and this may sound like a pretty lousy pickup line but I'd really like to get to know more about you... and if I dare say so myself I'd probably be able to do a far better job of patching you up than any of these backwater scavengers... a better job than anyone on this planet perhaps save for you yourself, probably, so what do you say? Shall we chat a bit?
      Last edited by Negatomsk; 05-25-2012 at 05:17 PM. Reason: Prettifying

      And then I kicked him so hard he saw the curvature of the earth.

    5. #5

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      Fortunately for the man now designated as sled dog, the group didn't get very far before the mother of all goddamned motorcycles blasted out of a nearby scrapheap-hill with all the subtlety and delicate nuance of a missile salvo. Atop it was, unmistakeably, the source of the unusual search attempt that had flitted against her shell systems earlier. Mostly because he was bombarding the airwaves with an announcement that he was the source of the unusual search attempt that had flitted against her shell systems earlier. He also seemed to be offering to take her on a hot date to the nearest tech lab, murmuring sweet little nothings into her receiver array.

      The scavenger squad, predictably, scattered to the four winds as swiftly as their little feet could carry them the moment their brains registered the noise of Mr. Mega-Moped's arrival, leaving Cee standing on a stationary hoverboard in the middle of a giant junkyard facing down someone with a superhuman ability to raise a ruckus without even the faintest pretense of support. So...like going to a Gun Room meeting with Crim after a particularly memorable party night.

      “Alright, Regis,” Cee announced to the open air, “I'll give you the same list I gave the Squirrel Squad. History lesson first, then vodka, access to a tech lab I can patch myself up in, then clothes neither hideous nor damaged. Oh, and now that you've reminded me, bullets,” she added, glancing down at the revolver stuffed through what was left of her belt. “Put bullets before clothes but after vodka. Do that for me and we can do all the candlelit dinner I can stomach afterwards.”

      Obviously she'd received and decrypted this Resolution's transmissions – she'd responded to them, after all – but she'd chosen to reply vocally rather than in kind, including the Squirrel Squad in what she'd already started treating as negotiations. Would they provide a better offer, try to keep her with them rather than watch her traipse off with Hot Wheels over there? Would they even realize she was offering them the chance, or were they too busy pissing their petticoats?

      ...probably the latter. Stupid panicky humans. Kick one guy in the bloodline and they just got impossible to deal with...

    6. #6
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      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      He hadn't expected to scatter the scavengers to the four winds with his approach, but in retrospect, what should he have expected to happen? A man exploding out of the junkyard -- previously thought to be wholly unoccupied -- riding a flaming motorcycle like a bat out of hell, who in their mind wouldn't run from that on instinct, or at the very least attempt to retreat and regroup. Still, Reso had come expecting to lend further aid, not distance her from it. Easing off of the throttle, he hit the brakes, rolling to a stop a safe distance from her -- for the both of them. Invading personal space would hardly do him any favors given how far he was on his way to making such a disastrous first impression already. "Sorry about all that. If you'd like I can--"

      He was quickly cut off by a familiar list of demands. A sitrep, vodka, repairs, and clothes, no -- sitrep, vodka, repairs, bullets, clothes. He couldn't see the scavengers, but he could tell they were still out there. Still, they no longer seemed as forthcoming with their aid as they had before, though Reso was quite sure he was to blame for that. His face twisted into what he probably considered a smile as he nodded slightly, lifting his arm and pointing it towards her. "All right." A length burst from his sleeve, just below his wrist, aimed to shoot past her head, just over her right shoulder. It was a lazy shot, at a moderate velocity, easy enough for her to snatch out of the air either by hand, or with that strange whip of hers -- he was offering her a tow back. The X-Weasel was a great deal faster than he'd expected it to be, flashing through the air to snap the wire out of the air, coiling tightly around it to secure her new towline with but a flick of her wrist as he secured his end of the wire to a hitch behind the seat of the Hard Drive, the insane machine he'd rode in on. Throwing the bike into reverse, he brought the machine around and sped back in the direction he'd come from, riding back off into the junkyard, and down through a rampway that appeared in the dirt as a subterranean opened in the floor of the abandoned factory. As the hidden gate closed behind them, the pair descended into a hidden chamber beneath the factory floor, halfway buried beneath rubble that had collapsed from the floors above, Reso coasted the Hard Drive to a stop near a computer terminal flanked by a small cot and set before a sprawling, if poorly lit workstation and semi-functional tech lab.

      Clearly her host had been doing a fair bit of scavenging himself in the time he'd spent on this world. Climbing off of the Hard Drive he unhitched the wire, retracting it back into his sleeve as soon as she untangled the X-Weasel from it. "Hard drive's backed up everything I've managed to pull from the net on this world. History, current events, you name it, it's on there..." He walked past the station, off to the tech lab and a fridge hidden behind the terminal there. "...The quality of the drink won't too be good -- I'm pretty sure they use this shit as lubricant when they're not swilling it but I've managed to steal quite a bit. On off days some of the group make their way round here to drink. Once they're nice and sauced they're far too gone to notice a few bottles going missing..." Setting several bottles down on a table, he turned off into the lab again, stopping to grab a remote hanging from the ceiling.

      Pressing a button upon it to turn on more of the lights, Reso revealed several racks of weapons. Most of them had been destroyed, either by the elements or battle damage, but he'd done his best to rebuild them given what information he could gleam of their construction from the worldnet here. "Boredom makes for strange hobbies, I know... but I've taken quite an interest in the worst and most warlike aspects of human nature..." Kneeling to pull up a wire basket from beneath one of the racks, he stood, slamming it down on a table -- the rattling of the ammunition inside was unmistakeable. "Even fashioned ammo for them myself to keep my mind occupied. Never planned to use any of this, but I suppose you might have a use for it... now..." He reached over to hit another remote, more lights blazing to life across the lab to reveal a proper work station and tech lab set up in the far corner of Reso's little hovel. While he'd been ambling about showing off, the Hard Drive had rolled itself off to that corner of the room and attached itself to several wires running out of a rather large terminal set in the corner of the lab.

      "That back there... most of that is for me... but I think you'll be able to cobble something together out of all the mess back there to get yourself up and running at 100% again. I'll help with what I can -- or whatever you'll let me, but I know the score. I wouldn't be too keen on showing anyone else all my bits, even if I wasn't all banged up..." He turned away, tapping at his chin. "Clothes... Ah yes." He raised his hand, a wireframe cascading across his palm to take the shape of a hanger, and then garments, appearing upon it. A set of biking leathers, not unlike his own, colored in a fetching maroon matched to compliment Cee's pigmentation and hair. He offered the hanger out to her, along with a set of boots that had appeared in his other hand. "...Of course if you'd like something else... just let me know, I'll make that for you instead." Reso smiled, nodding his head slightly. "I think that's everything, isn't it?" Wasn't he just so proud of himself?

      And then I kicked him so hard he saw the curvature of the earth.

    7. #7

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      Upon arriving in the converted mama's basement this latest development towed her to, the creature that called itself Resolution promptly gave her something of a tour, pointing out all the different bits and bobs around the underground space that would meet the needs she'd laid out for him. Or at least come as close to meeting those needs as anyone on this miserable rockball was likely to come. It was immediately apparent to Cee that the state of this world left little hope for anything like full repairs – what technology base it had once possessed had been shattered by whatever big brouhaha had the locals so twitchy. Still...she could probably cobble together something. Enough, at least, to deal with that gaping hole in her flank and the distinct absence of arm on her right shoulder. Even better, there was hooch available! It was the sort of makeshift moonshine that took twenty years off a human's lifespan, sure, but it was still sweet, blissful alcohol.

      Not for the first time, Cee wished she actually got drunk when she indulged in her secondhand drinking habit. Goddamnit, Crim.

      There was also a box of bullets, some of which might at least provide enough materials for her to fabricate her own ammunition for Gunsmoke when she had two working hands again, a computer with access to what was left of the planetary datanet, and a set of biker-chic leathers that actually weren't too bad, considering they'd been flash-manufactured in five seconds by a distinctly un-female person whose preferences ran just a smidgeon towards flaming skulls for Cee's tastes. They were a decent color and cut to both show off her luscious figure and avoid aggravating the obvious damage she'd sustained. That also meant they revealed an almost scandalous amount of android protoskin, but Cee was perfectly cool with that state of affairs.

      “This'll do,” Cee pronounced, snagging the racked clothing from the biker man and moving off to find a bit of privacy in which to change. Sure, she was already about as indecent as she could get and still actually be wearing something, but there were principles to uphold, damnit! Lurking behind a piece of sheet metal and hucking the ruined rags of her previous outfit over it while she switched, the android's voice floated back to Resolution.

      “So. You wanted to know more about me, yeah? Now'd be a good time to ask, 'cause I'm probably gonna throw your ass outta here when I get down to working on repairs,” she said. “Or at least tell you to shut up a lot – I'm a complex piece of engineering that wasn't designed for this shit, and I somehow doubt this rock's planetary datanet is going to be a lot of goddamn help. I'm gonna need to concentrate. Oh, and bring one of those bottles over here. Can't concentrate without a little liquor.”

    8. #8
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      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      He hadn't intended to fashion such a... provocative outfit for Cee, but she was covered from head to toe in injuries of varying severity, and to avoid aggravating the worst of them Reso hadn't had much of a choice but to fashion her ensemble with quite a bit of fabric missing. Not that she seemed to be complaining, and he certainly wouldn't be. At one point, long ago, he'd had a wife, might have felt guilt for looking at another woman, seeing another female in the state of undress that Cee was in now, but such emotions were all but useless to him now. It's funny how damnation changes a man's priorities. Not that he was one to keep staring; no sooner had he handed her her leathers and boots than he turned around, making his way back across the makeshift lab to find himself a bit of busy work while she found herself a place to get dressed. -- guilt or no he still knew how to be a gentleman, or at least how to pretend at being one.

      Already kneeling by the Hard Drive, making a show of reaching up into its guts to check on a rattling he'd heard earlier (instead of interfacing with its onboard CPU to run a diagnostic), he nearly glancing back over his shoulder as she offered him the opportunity to learn more about her.

      "...I've been planet-side here for nearly 9 months now... I've been roaming the galaxy for several years, and in all this time, in all the wars I've fought in and all the war machines, androids, and cyborgs I've destroyed, I've never met anything, or anyone like you. Severely damaged, facing hostile forces, you still utilized the minimum required force to subdue your enemy. You made an example out of him to end the conflict with as little bloodshed as possible. I think we both know that even in the state you're in you could've easily killed all of them... and yet you didn't."

      He chuckled, shrugging slightly. "I suppose it's not too farfetched to think that another independent A.I. exists aside from mine... but I couldn't help but be curious... I couldn't help but wonder if you were sparing them out of compassion, because you really didn't want to hurt anybody, or if you wanted to keep them alive because of what they could do for you?" He stood, his back still turned as he looked his glove over. No oil, no grease, no mess of course, but the Hard Drive ran on and was lubricated by something far less messy. Or more, depending on how one looked at it. "I'm not trying to offend you, I'm just... curious." The mirthless smile he'd been nursing faded as he leaned forward, placing his hands atop the Hard Drive, one on its faring, the other on the seat. "Someth... someone like you has to have seen your fair share of battlefields. You have to have seen the worst of human nature. If it hasn't rubbed off on you... Heh, then I guess you're a better person than I am."

      He chanced a glance over his shoulder, and -- seeing the screen she'd erected for her privacy -- turned back in her direction, several chains flashing from his sleeve to snatch up the bottles he'd left on his workstation before floating them across the room to dangle them over the fallen hunk of sheet metal.

      "I doubt I can replicate any of the pieces you've lost... but I can help you put together replacement parts far more functional than anything you'll be able to build with the scrap you'll find here." He raised both hands, a peace offering for her to see as she finally emerged from behind her 'privacy screen' with the bottles of hooch tucked expertly between her fingers, as close to fully dressed as she'd be getting for now. "...I'll just put together the parts and let you adapt them to fit. Won't even ask for your schematics. Deal?"

      And then I kicked him so hard he saw the curvature of the earth.

    9. #9

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      Cee was quiet for a few moments after Resolution's little speech, considering his words in the privacy afforded by a beat-up old metal screen. It was clear the entity was doing a bit of soul-searching here, which was a strange thing for a machine to be doing in her opinion. Well, unless he was soul-searching because he was low on fuel. ...she really hoped the devilish machine-creature didn't actually run any of his shit on souls, because then she'd probably be forced to take issue with him. Something to investigate after she was repaired, she decided.

      “I don't know shit about any of that jazz,” she finally replied as she stepped out from behind the screen. “I'm less than a year old, you've been slumming around on this planet longer than I've been operational. I've been in count-'em two major battles; one of those was against some kinda Chaos Spawn crime-against-nature mutant dingus and the other was against an entire fuckin' planetary strike force. Didn't exactly have time for philosophical discussions in that one, and the first one was more something to scrape off your boot heel in disgust than sit down and have tea with mid-fight. The only thing that's 'rubbed off on me' is Crim's useless porn closet of a mind, and that was only because he beat everyone else to my imprinting systems.”

      She set down all but one of the bottles Resolution had given her, twisting the cap off that one and flicking it into a corner, forgotten as she took a long slug from the moonshine. “Fuck. This is some grody-ass shit. People drink this and live to tell the tale?” she bitched before, predictably, taking a second pull off of it. She considered the bottle for a moment, staring at an impurity in the glass that looked an awful lot like Commandante Shindlerstein's overly prominent Adam's apple. Man, if that guy hadn't been brutally murdered after watching his greatest work be stolen and corrupted by the very people he'd built it to stop, she'd find him and kick the shit out of him for making this so difficult for her!

      “Don't suppose you're up to date on Ghalakrast Empire technology standards and terminology?” she asked. “Too fuckin' much to hope for, I know. Vestusio standards will work, though some of the shit I need is goddamned weird by their standards. If neither of those fly...well, fuck. Tell me what you do know and I'll see if I can't give you some specs. Most important thing I've gotta fix is my goddamn regulator,” she grumbled, glaring down in the general direction of the hole blasted through her gut. “Predictably, it's also going to be the hardest to find components for. You have anything whatso-fuckin'-ever that can work as an ether-transformer and is small enough for me to cram in here somehow?” she asked, gesturing to the cavity in her flank where a perfectly good regulator had once resided.

    10. #10
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      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      Resolution knew full well that at the very least he ran on souls, but that was neither a choice nor a matter of sustenance. As it had been explained to him, he was akin to a physical manifestation of a force of nature: the damned were going to the Inferno through that Ninth Gate either way; with Reso around, they were simply taking a bullet train to the hot spot instead of waiting around at the station for God knows how long. The souls bound for Purgatorio or, in the best case scenario, for Paradiso were beyond the reach of his Gate. Of course, that was all that that he'd been told -- as Reso was incapable of judging the souls that passed through his Gate on their way into the Inferno he had no way of knowing whether or not it was true. The actions of the men and women he claimed were all the evidence he could ever possess. As for the Hard Drive... as far as Reso knew it ran on him. The terminal it had connected itself to was indeed providing it with power, but that input was being converted into an... 'aftermarket' auxiliary ether battery he'd installed later.

      But now he felt -- and more importantly, looked -- like an idiot for simply assuming that the female before him had seen more battle than he had, simply from the state in which she'd arrived. Perhaps -- as was apparently the case -- this damage Cee had incurred had been taken in her first or second battle. "...Sorry." Was he actually blushing? He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this... embarrassed. He'd felt foolish asking so much of her and she'd indeed made him look just like a child. He shouldn't have asked her anything... he'd just met this girl -- who was he to be dumping his existential crises on her? Thankfully, the topic quickly moved on from soul-searching to the soul-scorching hooch he'd passed to Cee, a topic he was more than happy to address.

      "They live, yeah. Most of the time. Lousy quality control leads to a lot of severe alcohol poisoning, or every once in a while just regular poisoning. Then again this is such a shit hole that I'd be surprised if more than a few of them care all that much one way or the other how they go out--Ghalakrast?"

      He crossed his arms, searching his memory for any references. "...I've encountered them a few times, scouting parties and the like. I've taken apart a few of their machines, literally, gotten a feel for the technology by way of reverse engineering and a bit of data theft from their computers... I actually installed an ether regulator salvaged from some of their gear in my bike back there." He jabbed a thumb back towards the Hard Drive, which actually seemed to... perk up slightly at its mention, its front tire angling slightly towards them. "If you're asking that because you came from the same... stock, then could help you build a basic one. Nothing that would be able to handle your output, even in this damaged state, but it might be good enough to use as a platform for an upgraded model that will last long enough for us to get you some real tech. He turned and started back towards the terminal at the back of the room, the Hard Drive un-attaching itself and rolling out of his way as chains burst from his back, flailing across the lab to snatch up various components from the multiple piles of junk strewn about, as if he knew without looking, despite the chaos and clutter of the room, exactly where to find the pieces he needed. Pulling out a tray that probably should have held a keyboard, he laid the parts out and... stared at them, trying to work up a schematic. "...I can put a regulator together based on the models I've seen, but I'm gonna need your help over here in designing the right connections..." He'd be able to build the hub itself in a matter of minutes, likely less, but he wouldn't even begin to know where to design the bits that would hook into that hole in her torso.

      And then I kicked him so hard he saw the curvature of the earth.

    11. #11

      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      (OOC: Shin's given me his official permission to disregard him for CityScape's two-way rules. He's working on other things and IRL problems, and frankly I've left this for far too long as it is. Contact him if you've problems. You have my deepest apologies, Black. It's short, it's shit, but it's there.)

      Cee pondered the problem herself for a few moments, then shrugged and started compiling a schematic. It took about forty-odd seconds to finish, at which point she fired it off at Resolution. It consisted of little more than a set of space restrictions, a list of tolerances, and a schematic of where connections needed to be – effectively it was a highly technical picture of the hole in Cee's side.

      “I need as much throughput as you can engineer into something I can fit in there,” she said. “I don't care about efficiency right now, I just need enough raw capacity to get my Ether Field back online.”

      She took another pull of the engine degreaser Resolution had passed off as hooch, then sat down in front of the box of ammunition the man had given her. None of the rounds were the correct caliber for Gunsmoke, of course – different planets had different weapon standards. Still, it was a pile of metal and gunpowder, and Cee was nothing if not flexible.

      “There an ammo bench around here?” she asked. “Got to start adapting some of this shit for Gunsmoke, would help if I had some tools.” Would also help if she had a left arm, but if wishes were fishes, after all...besides, she was working on it. Once she had a new regulator – and, coincidentally, an idea of how competent this Resolution was at field fabrication - she could deal with trifling matters like major limbs.

    12. #12
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      Re: Yggdrasil Crew: Episode 9001b - "Experiencing Technical Difficulties"

      Reso's eyebrows raised slightly as he received the schematics. Simple enough... seemed she was just looking for something to fill the hole. He grinned at the thought -- that was poorly worded, if only mentally. Thank god, only mentally. She'd probably have tried to cut him in half. Would've been a poor ending to a first date to be sure. With that in mind he immediately got to work, nodding slightly at her few requests as his hands darted back and forth across the worktable, rapidly gathering and assembling the bits and pieces he needed, his chains snaking outward once more to open up and snag a few components from the unit the Hard Drive had hooked itself to, eliciting an angry whirr from the motorcycle's cooling fan.

      "Hey, hey, I'll give it back, don't be stingy. Someone else needs this more than you right now, ya greedy bastard... I coulda taken the parts straight out of you instead, y'know." That earned him another angry whirring, along with a low rev from the engine as it inched backwards slightly in his direction. "Kidding, kidding, sheezus..." The best he could do would be to build the same type of ether regulator he'd seen installed in other similar Ghalakrast technology, though he'd be adding quite a few upgrades to it. Hell, by the time he was done fiddling around it could scarcely be called a regulator at all.

      Perhaps he built it out of a desire to impress his new guest, perhaps out of a simple desire to show off, to show just what he'd do, but in either case he'd built her an ether regulator as requested... only he'd built it as a part of the ultracompact cyclical ether reactor that he turned around to show her. He'd managed to fit quite a bit into a small little package, and while it might be a bit of a squeeze, it would definitely match up to the space restrictions and connection placements she'd sent over. "This little number should be able to use your own output to boost itself... and then boost your own output again in turn. Something this tiny ain't gonna give someone like you any boosts but it should help you get back up to speed faster..." Should. For all he knew her systems were too advanced and efficient for something like this to do much good at all, even with all the damage she'd sustained. In any case he snaked a chain across the room to set it down next to her before making off across the room to grab a heavy metal door from a pile of scrap, he upended it over several wooden work horses and slapped his fist down on it several times. "Not much for an ammo bench but it should be enough for now." Another bucket was upended over the makeshift bench, with a few tools she could probably use for working the ammunition, but not much. He'd dabbled in ammo work himself, toying with the guns he'd gathered, and the equipment that he'd managed to grab along with it, but the tools the people here had been working with were crude, much like the people themselves. Hopefully there was enough to work with, but if not... well, he was more than ready to put together anything she might need, to whatever specifications she was willing to provide.

      And then I kicked him so hard he saw the curvature of the earth.

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