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Futuristic Burning Sails [OPEN]

Katja looks at Amy when she addresses her but doesn't reply. Her eyes are pretty hollow in their gaze, she's deliberately faced herself in a way to not have to look over the carnage currently painting the hangar and also specifically avoiding looking at Nil. She just kinda shrugs lopsidedly and slowly plunks her helmet back on as if the isolation inside it will allow her some small comfort that will never come. Her ears are still ringing a bit and her heart is still thumping in her chest, she numbly fumbles the gun hanging loosely from her forearm to place it back in its proper position on her body. She doesn't get involved in the brewing fight and simple turns and shuffles off towards the Mordred.

She goes to the cantina and sits in a booth, sitting there limply in the cushioned seat as she just tries to get a grip on herself. Her head is spinning still and the thoughts in her head are a swirling maelstrom of questions, doubts, and fears. She pulls her helmet off, not finding the comfort she thought it would, instead feeling suffocated by it. She sets it on the table and just crosses her arms atop the surface and buries her face in it. This isn't what she expected, the sort of false bravado she had before evaporated immediately once the shooting started and Nil did what he did. And now she's expected to let that thing loose on the station full of people and somehow be okay with it.
 
Listening to the others arguing, Nathalie removed her mask and sighed. She crossed her arms and stared between each and everyone as they spoke. Nat wasn't exactly sure why some of the crew decided to draw a line between unarmed and- most likely- innocent station workers and potential civilian captives (to her they were equally non-combative) but at the very least the crew seemed less mindlessly bloodthirsty than before after Vance gave his own version of the meeting at Quicksilver.

While Nathalie understood the point of sending a message one could rarely- if ever- justify butchering innocents that happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She glanced at Nil who was... smiling?

If anything what we just witnessed would make any potential survivor or innocent bystander send a stronger message. They'd probably need therapy for the rest of their lives.

Nathalie turned towards Damien, looking at him with a raised eyebrow in a sort of 'What do you think?'-fashion.
 
Kalashi simply nodded at the young Kanad's words and watched her closely as she applied the bandages and gel, needles she understood from personal experiences. Always had a phobia about them that carried from her youth to her early adulthood. However, the traumatic experiences she had endured during the many excessive medical operations performed on her as part of her cybernetic transformation have eased such fears from her mind.

She followed closely behind her, making sure that she didn't slump over or the like. Yet, she soon found herself caught between Valkyrie and the rest of her so-called accomplices discussing the matters of morales. What caught her attention was the young one's diligence to kill on Valkyrie's command.

Kalashi begins to seeth at the prospect of using this ex-child soldier for killing innocents. She thinks more about her feelings of Valkyrie, figuring that she had done the same in the past with her own blood. Rising both the gloomy and the bitchy brats as her left and right hands in this pirate operation.

The bounty Hunter quickly looked through the reports and docs that she had been sent to her. It becomes clear that she is going to wipe out a station for a crazy ship or some shit. That the collateral was going to be big, the thoughts of killing the non-combatants shuck a nerve with her crew and it seems that the wedge only grew more the ideas of killing the indentured labor there, even the slaves. Only widen that mortal gap.

Kalashi let out a long breath, grunting heavily under her mask before simply ditching the rest of her worn and banged-up outfit. She then took out a shot of Tox, giving the vital a good look over for a few moments before deciding to put it away back into her satchel. Turning around back to the rest of what she had to call a "Crew".

"Blood begets blood, Valk." Kalashi yell out towards her while standing on the ramp. "And you gotta stop it somewhere or else it won't ever stop..." She stated before walking forward deeper into the loading area of the Mordred.

"It sure as hell didn't stop for me...." Kalashi said lowely under her breath as she headed towards the medbay.
 
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Before Valkyrie had a chance to form a reply to Zadra, she was set upon by most of the others in the room. She gave each an angry glare, matching the one Zadra was still giving her. Eve, behind her, didn't speak. Simply standing there motionless, her hands clasped behind her. Watching Valkyrie as they all spoke their minds to her.

Lauren and Damien ended up turning about, watching the group as they spoke to Valk. Lauren smirked, holstering her autorevolver and folding her arms. "Think she's gonna snap on them?" she asked, glancing to Damien. Damien shrugged. "Don't know, don't care." he muttered, slipping his micro smg back into its holster. He glanced up to see Nathalie looking at him. He simply shrugged again. He'd honestly have rathered they just sneak aboard and steal the ship. Simpler, less costly.

And soon enough, Valkyrie went to speak again. But this time, she was cut off by someone else. Nil, surprisingly, spoke up from where he was. "I could talk to my sister about this, if you'd like!" he said, waving his a hand casually to the side. "She'll listen to me! If the deaths of civilians and others bothers you so much, then I won't kill any either! Anything to make you all a bit more comfortable with this job!"
 
"Set. We look for cybernetics shop now."
"If I am right," starts Typhon while holding a finger up to his chin. "A brother might be here today. He also might have what I am looking for." He beckons her to follow. "Be close."

Typhon, keeping his head on a swivel to look out for one shop in particular, guides Drav through the rest of the market area; passing by many reputable shops and sellers with all sorts of cybernetics they have on offer. Some of them were pristine and sealed in their box while others were dirty and dubiously (and unamusingly for Typhon) labeled 'second-hand'. One shop is selling cybernetic legs looted off of a trade freighter with elastic nanofibers in the knees and heels, another shop was selling a reinforced spinal column; impossible to break, and one store even had some hawker showing off a peculiar prosthetic hand. She flicks its wrist, and the fingers all come apart into tiny little appendages moving about on their own. That one in particular caught Typhon's eye, and he made a special note in his head detailing the designer, model number, and the price. Especially the price, for if he had more money and didn't have to keep a budget for medical supplies, he would've bought as many as he could to replace his frail body with. For what he can spend however, the best he can do is either repairs to what he has or whatever crusty junk that's in the bargain bin; the latter of which did not look appealing at all no matter how cheap it was.

Eventually the two arrive at a dimly lit corner deep in the district where most shops had some form of graffiti on the shutters covering their doors... if they even had doors anymore. The crowd's becoming sketchier looking too and some almost get too close to Typhon until Drav's presence forces them to back away. He also turns back every now and then to ensure she's still with him in this messier part of the marketplace. Before Typhon's patience can run out at having to be here any longer, he finds what he's been looking for; a tiny little booth, surprisingly clean in comparison to the area around it, and a strange looking neon green sign above its equally small metal door consisting of no words but an outline of some glowing creature. Typhon knocks in a peculiar rhythm and some distant shuffling on the other side could be heard.

"[Open up, Dagon.]" he mutters.



And the door carefully slides itself open with a noisy groan, revealing an equally dimly lit interior. Inside is what looks like a humble mechanic's shop with dozens of parts from all sorts of machinery lining the walls, the shelves, even hanging from the ceiling. Robot parts, prosthetics, gun parts, machine parts, even the occasional pile of nuts and bolts here and there, yet every single one of them looks fairly new and pristine; too clean looking to have come from this quadrant. Typhon can even see his reflection in the darkened lenses of a robot's head sitting on a shelf as he walks in.

"Dagon?" he asks, looking around for his fellow Lion.

From behind a large generator somewhere in the back and currently in the process of being stripped emerges yet another thin looking Artisynth. Dagon steps out wearing an orange mechanic's jumpsuit with an oil-stained apron covering his chest. He takes off one of his thick gloves and rubs his eyes, making sure it's Typhon greeting him. "Typhon?" he yawns. "Excuse my appearance, I didn't know you'd be here on Shadespear." If Drav looks close enough, she could notice that there's surgical markings on his neck and around the edges of his face. "I assume you are working today?"

"Not just yet." Typhon responds before holding up his cybernetic arm. "And not with this piece of shit locking occasionally." Right as the words leave his mouth, it suddenly goes stiff, and throws it down with his other arm.

Dagon scratches his chin as he thinks to himself. "Hmm. If it's a replacement you're looking for then I have troubling news." Typhon frowns back at him as he continues. "I had to donate my newer stock to Kalag. More of him has fallen off, and.... well, I'm certain he's already told you."

"Yes, yes, I know." Typhon waves it off. "So you have nothing for me?"

"Oh, I do. It isn't the best, but it's better than that." Dagon responds, gesturing to Typhon's arm. "Go to the back and sit in the chair there, I'll install it now. Oh, and-" He turns to Drav. "This may take a while, but you are more than welcome to browse and use the television over there." he says, pointing at an old TV near the entrance. Typhon wanders through piles of junk and other bits and pieces of metal into a smaller room in the back; a makeshift operating room that had a stretcher in the center, a bright lamp hanging above it, and various mechanic tools scattered around. Reluctantly, he lays down on the stretcher and waits for Dagon to come in. He eventually does, though carrying a familiar looking prosthetic with him.

"[... Doesn't that belong to Set?]" asks Typhon, noting the tally marks etched onto the forearm.

Dagon nods in confirmation. "[It did.]"

"[I suppose he doesn't want it anymore?]"

Dagon shakes his head. "[It's that he couldn't use it anymore.]" he answers solemnly.

"[What?]" asks a shocked Typhon, almost getting up from the stretcher. "[What happened?]"

Dagon takes a seat on a nearby stool while he gathers his tools. "[Went to sleep, didn't wake up again. Him and Rimmon.]"

Typhon lets out a groan as he slides back down in disbelief, running his hands over his face at the news that another two of his brothers are dead and by the same rot that's slowly killing him too. He's seen it erode their bodies, limbs stop working, skin pulling itself back, parts slowly turning themselves off until all that's left is a brain buried in a cold cage... He's got it too. It's already taken his arm, and only god knows what it'll take next. Meanwhile Dagon shakes his head in resignation and slides by Typhon's side. Tools in hand, he gets to work detaching his arm.

---
The minutes pass by quietly as Dagon unhooks wires, connects circuitry to flesh, cuts bolts, unscrews, and plugs in wires to the shriveled up stump Typhon has for a right arm. Dagon carefully focuses on his work while Typhon simply stares at the ceiling; not even twitching as hot sparks hit his face. Eventually, Dagon presses a curious question to pass the time easier.

"[Typhon... may I ask you something?]"

Typhon slowly rolls his eyes to look at Dagon.

"[... How's the research?]" asks Dagon. "[Any news would help... since we've lost a few already.]"

Typhon takes a deep breath. "[Not well.]" he says, turning to face his friend. "[Every attempt has failed. Every sample was rejected... Nothing works... I don't know what to do.]"

Dagon stops. The multitool stops whirring and all noise pauses for just a moment. "[Well...]" he starts, trying to find the right words. "[Typhon, that's... I don't think I have enough prosthetics here for everyone-]"

"[I know.]" Typhon bluntly interrupts. "[... I know. I just need more samples, more time...]" The latter of which they all have a feeling they're out of, and have been for a while no matter how long Typhon toils away trying to buy them some more; the decades he's spent researching a cure haven't bought them a single second. It's something that's taking it's own toll on him in addition. The rest of the procedure goes by with an uncomfortable quiet all around them with Typhon staring blankly at the ceiling while Dagon sighs and gets back to work. Eventually, Typhon emerges from the back with his new arm attached and waves over to Drav that he's ready to go.
 
Amy turned her attention to Nil for a few seconds as the walking biological weapon had more influence on the deal than it was originally let on.

"I'm all for it, if you are." She glanced back at Valk "We really should take him up on that offer."
 
"Right, it's better than nothing at least." Vance muttered in response to Amy as he walked away into the Mordred to cool off for a bit. He approached into the cantina and saw Katja going through her own bout of post-battle shock. He grimaced as he remembered young boys being thrown into meatgrinders back in the day without a clue about what they were getting themselves into, crying for mother back home as gunfire and explosions ravaged the battlefields they were stuck in. For anyone not used to it, it was always a terrifying experience to be on death's door at any given moment when fighting others. He walked over to her and sat across from her in the booth she was at, staying quiet for a moment before speaking up: "You alright?" Vance asked with concern.
 
Katja starts slightly and picks her head up, she was so zoned out she didn't even notice Vance had sat down across from her. Seems in the time it took someone to find her and talk to her, she had broken down crying into her arms. She looks at Vance with red eyes and a flushed face, she picks herself up and uses an open palm of her hand to wipe her face, "I... I don't know, i-it's one thing if it was just a firefight, I was trained for that, but... -that- thing. I don't know if I could get through this mission if he's gonna be there. Seeing those people, even if they were enemies... it's inhuman cruelty on a scale I can't understand..." She sinks into the seat a little bit and wraps her arms around herself, "Not what I expected, not what I expected at all... and we're supposed to unleash that on a station full of people who may or may not necessarily be involved with the whole smuggling operation." She looks at Vance, "What if there's slave trafficking going on there, are we supposed to just murder the slaves too? Killed for simply being in the wrong place against their will at the wrong time?" She shakes her head and sits up, "How are we any better than this Anora woman and her group of murderers if we stoop to her level of behavior just senseless killing?"
 
"We're not going to kill innocents, or slaves or anything of the sort. At least, that's what that thing promised once he talked to his sister about it." Vance replied to Katja in an encouraging manner as he leaned on his arms onto the table in between the two of them. "It just looks like Valk is blinded by her grief to what's in front of her. I understand that she wants revenge but that's why some of us are able to talk some sense into this whole mess." He twiddled his thumbs for a moment before shaking his head, "You don't have to go onto that station if you don't want to. We were already walking a heavily gray line as it was before we came to this compromise... you don't need to subject yourself to that stuff."
 
With a curious perk of her head, Olivia was near dumbfounded that, out of all people, Nil was... sort of on their side. Still seemed like he wanted to kill, but could restrain himself to not... kill too much? Either way, though, there was a grimly amused look that crossed Olivia's face once she'd turned it back to face Valk. "Yeah. You should." Agreeing with Amy, as she leaned in. "Fuckin' amazing how the monster's got more morals than you, huh?" With that, she turned on her heel, marching herself back towards the Mordred as she held onto her shoulder. But walking through the carnage, her expression darkened once again. She'd seen people torn apart by heavy weapons fire, still breathing and with half their body laying five metres away. Heard screams over comms channels as they were engulfed in flames inside the coffin of their cockpit. But... this? She couldn't help but to imagine being on the other side, watching that... thing rip apart comrades like they were wet tissue paper. The terror in their eyes. Comparatively, a bullet in the head would've been merciful. This, on the other hand? Barbarism. But she supposed she couldn't expect any more from a pirate.

Once she was up the Mordred's ramp, she took a small bottle out from one of her coat pockets, plucking a single pill out and swallowing. Giving it a couple minutes... and raising her hand up. At least she didn't have the shivers anymore. That Vix kid just... screams that something's awfully off about her. The same glassy kinda stare she's seen in guys a decade older than herself... The same one she had, at one point. Only difference is that she replaced it with bitter acceptance. Maybe she should...

"Hey, Vix! You around?"
 
Katja listens to Vance, rubbing the underside of her nose briefly then sniffing, "I need to be on that station, to make sure this... compromise is upheld. I don't think I could sit on the sidelines idly knowing that station ends up butchered by Nil. Plus, I already agreed that I would do the job even if I didn't like it, I do more or less owe my life and freedom to the Reavers in that regard. Once that debt is repaid though, I'm definitely taking my shit and leaving." Her eyebrows furrow slightly as she seems to build some resolve up in herself after the breakdown, "I don't want to owe these people anything when we're done."
 
Vixaya heard her name called from around the corner, and doubled back to find Olivia looking for her. The painkillers were helping, but Vixaya really wanted to head to the medbay and have her wound cleaned and dressed. This conversation would need to be quick. She stared a moment before answering quietly. "...Vok?"

What. It sounded more like a statement than a question.
 
Olivia, just slightly, canted her head as Vixaya came around from the corner. "I just wanted to check'n..." The woman bit her tongue, suppressing a displeased sigh from herself-- at herself. No, Olivia. She's pretty clearly not alright. It took her a minute or two to notice, but, yeah, it looked to her like the kanad was limping, and, more visibly, that there was blood trickling down her leg. "You're... you're probably heading to the medbay, right?" Olivia held out the hand that was clutching her shoulder for a scant moment, before wincing from the biting pain that the air gave it. Instead, she held out her wounded arm. She figured that she was light enough it wouldn't strain it too much. "You wanna hand?"
 
Vixaya looked Olivia up and down for a moment, and then, with a level of sincerity that was impossible to determine, answered.

"[No... I have two already.]"
 
Olivia did have a bit of a smile, just since she was trying to be friendly, but it twisted upward as a chuckle came out of her-- oww, that's not good for the pain.

Fighting back the water in her eye, Olivia tried to explain. "No, no, I mean like, help. To the medbay." It then occurred to her that, if the translator's any indication, and it's a big indicator, that Vix probably doesn't know all that much Terran. "...It's a, uh, human expression. Like, extra set of hands means there's less work you need to do. That kinda' thing."
 
"[...Okay,]" she replied after Olivia was done speaking, and after a short pause she twitched and seemed to wince, but it was strangely unclear if she was reacting to the pain in her leg, or something else, something mental. "[I can walk. ...Let's go,]" she said, rubbing her temple as she turned away.

Having learned another human expression, Vixaya remembered to keep practicing their language. "What Nil do? No... No think when... 'pew pew...'" she tried to explain, and even took out her VRI and shook it a bit with the sound effects. "I no think, no see. What do Nil?"
 
Olivia tried as best she could to help Vix along, but, unsurprisingly, it's kinda difficult to hold someone up whenever one arm's got a bullet wound in it, and the other's holding it to stop a quart of blood leaking out of it. Were it anyone else, she'd have used her hand to lower the gun towards the floor. But, with her clean one otherwise occupied, and the fact Vixaya goes-- well, feral at a gunshot, having someone else's blood smeared onto her couldn't help at all. All she could do was hope she didn't negligently discharge it into the floor. Or wall. Or someone. She chewed the innards of her lower lip. "Nil, he... he turned into a monster." Even though a small part of Olivia wanted to hide just how bad it got back there, the rest of her reasoned that, well. The girl's probably heard worse. Still doesn't compare to actually having seen it, though.

"Like, the skin coming off to rip those pirate assholes into chunks, kind of monster." Her-- at least attempting to be, friendly demeanour, took a dour turn as her eyes gazed away from Vixaya. "...Should be glad you didn't have to see him in action back there. Was fuckin' awful."
 
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The bloodied kidney from a ripped up privateer slides across the hangar floor off of Typhon's foot and towards Valkyire, letting her know he's returned. He stands around for a moment, looking at the absolute fucking carnage he's surrounded in. God, what the hell happened while he was away? Did Valk finally lose it and just go on a rampage, or did the rest of the Reavers do this? Well, if it's the latter, Typhon has to admit he's a little impressed and might've underestimated the new batch.

"B-C-B or kids with guns?" he asks Valkyrie as he passes her by.
 
Valkyrie was fuming by the time Olivia walked away, practically staring holes through the back of the red haired mech pilot's skull. Zadra had finally shifted her gaze away from her boss, looking over towards Nil. "...You do that, Nil. Please." said the engineer, to which Nil responded with a thumbs-up.

Valk's glare shifted to Zadra, to which Zadra responded with a simple glance before walking away. Eve, still standing behind Valkyrie, finally spoke up afterwards. "... Mother, I believe you should speak to Easel again once we're back on the Guillotine. For their sake as well as your own." Valk snapped back at the drone, turning slightly and pointing at her. "Shut the fuck up." she spat.

Eve simply went quiet again, as Valk's finger remained leveled on her. "Get your ass on the fucking ship." she ordered, her finger moving to point at the Mordred. Eve simply nodded, strolling across the hangar towards the ramp. She then looked over to where Aesha was standing. Aesha simply held her hands up. "I'm going, I'm going. Don't rip my head off." said the pilot, quickly jogging over towards the ship herself.

Lauren, over near the two captured Corsairs with Damien, was giggling like hell. "Fuck, its fun to watch her get all pissy." said Lauren, grinning before looking back to Damien. Damien was giving her a look. He then shifted his attention, moving over to where the two Corsairs were still laying. He drew out two pairs of large zip-ties, and soon bound the Corsairs so they couldn't escape if they woke up.

Lauren watched, her arms still folded. "... You're really going through with that idea, aren't you?" she finally asked. He grunted, before brabbing one by the legs and beginning to drag him towards the ship. She rolled her eyes at the sight, before moving towards the Mordred herself.

"B-C-B or kids with guns?"

Valkyrie looked about to see Typhon and Drav heading their way, Typhon kicking what appeared to be a kidney towards her feet. "Fucking Black Crow Corsairs. They're in the privateer business now, and were waiting here to capture or kill us. We killed almost all of them with some of Nil's help." she said, motioning to Nil. Nil happily waved at the pair as they approached
 
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"Fucking Black Crow Corsairs. They're in the privateer business now, and were waiting here to capture or kill us. We killed almost all of them with some of Nil's help."
"So, kids with guns." dryly states Typhon. "Speaking of which, how did the new batch fare? All of this," he waves his hand around the bloodied hangar. "-looks too messy for them."
 
"They did fine. The mess was caused by him." responded Valk, pointing to Nil. "He ripped nine of them apart using these weird ass tentacles." She then looked to Drav, eyeing the machine gun and the large box on her back. "Nice gun. Might need that later. Got a mech pilot you can test it out on." she said, her eyes shifting between the gun and Drav's head.

Drav grunted in response, before walking by and boarding the Mordred. Soon enough, Caiden returned, walking towards them from the front of the hangar where the small entrance tunnel was. He was now clad in a set of worn, but rather sturdy dull black and green combat armor. Covered in bullet dents, scorch marks, and what appeared to be scratches from some very large claws, it had seen better days. On his shoulder, backpacks and a rifle of some sort. Hanging at his waist on his front, a light machine gun. He was ready for war, it seemed.

He strolled over to Nil, tossing the young man one of the black backpacks and the rifle. Apparently it was a lever action, bearing an ammunition counter on the side and featuring other modifications to suit Nil's style. Nil grinned as soon as he held it in his hands, spin-cocking the rifle with one hand before slinging the backpack over his shoulder. And soon enough, both walked onto the Mordred.
 
Once the arguing died down Nathalie looked to Vance to see how he was holding up. As far as she could tell he was at least physically intact though Nat was unable to make any further inquiries as the man left.
Looking around she spotted Lauren and Damien with the latter hauling one of two captive privateers across the hangar floor. Glaring at Lauren with a disgruntled expression Nathalie walked past her, just narrowly avoiding brushing into her.

Nathalie then nodded towards Damien. "I'll get the other one," she said. Moments later Nathalie was dragging the man across the floor. Her arms were wrapped around the privateer's chest from behind while her hands were locked with one another.
Slowly but steadily Nat pulled the man towards the Mordred's ramp and while she was strong enough to pull him on her own she certainly wouldn't turn down help.
 
Typhon simply glares at Nil in silence for a very brief moment before focusing his attention back on Valkyrie. “Ah, mashallah.” And he wonders if that bleeding heart human left a body here too. Probably not, though. “Drav and I read the details you sent us while we were in the market. I have no questions, although...” He gestures to the bodies around them while pulling out a red biohazard bag from within his coat. “Do you mind?”
 
Amy barely made out what Olivia told Valk and she had to admit, she was impressed at the combined fortitude and idiocy to say that. She could only shake her head before following Aesha back inside the ship. It took a few more seconds before the pain from the wounds kicked in. The bounty hunter stopped in place and gritted her teeth before exhaling.

"Is the doctor in?" She finally grunted with annoyance "Need to apply something before we get to the real fight."
 
"...Should be glad you didn't have to see him in action back there. Was fuckin' awful."

Vixaya listened quietly as Olivia revealed what Nil had done minutes earlier and the two of them approached the medbay. Then, surprisingly, she offered an opinion that wasn't so cold, one she couldn't express without her translator. "[Death usually is,]" she replied. "[I've seen bodies mangled by rockets and mortars that looked like that, and they were mine... I made those corpses while piloting my mech. In that way, Nil isn't any worse than I am... Or I'm no better than him. Either way, it's all awful- better not to see or remember.]"

The two entered the medbay and Vixaya staggered over to a bed and laid down.
 

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