A giant commie hating robot stomped around the streets of Utopia. His name was Liberty Prime, and he was considered one of the most Vital defenses Utopia has. Although He seemed like a threat at first, he actually isn't that bad to have around. Liberty Prime can provide defense, as well as helping with numerous tasks...Such as moving large Vehicles or Shipping Containers. "Democracy will never fall." Liberty Prime ranted as he stomped on the street, gears, and hydraulics creaking all the whilst.
The Slayer watched the main screen that had eyes on the small peaceful place called 'Utopia' by Mortals and Off-Landers as well. "Slayer, Seemingly, We have company. A small drone, Is located outside the glass that separates us and the Vacuum of Space. I cannot trace where It has originated, But you can see it clearly." VEGA warned as the Slayer watched the small drone take pictures and such, The red-eye flashing white. He loaded his Sawn-Off Double Barrel and disabled the force-field glass, Which all the Oxygen from the fortress was drained. He pointed his shotgun at the drone and pulled the trigger. The small pellets pelted the drone as It was pushed away and deactivated by the 10-Gauge Shotgun pellets. The drone had scattered into small pieces of metal and electronics.
Logan stared down at his brother Hesh who was sleeping peacefully on a Medical Cot. He was slowly but surely healing from his wounds Rorke and the Impact of the train had given him. "Heal Up, Brother." Logan whispered as he left the Infirmary. Logan passed other Off-Landers and people as he walked with his Honey Badger in hand. He had heard rumors that Rorke had been brought here as well and was even more pissed.
Rorke had beaten up Logan and was about to drag him away when the portals pulled him and Hesh in, Leaving Rorke to be pulled into a different portal. The Resistance seemed like a good cause and Logan made a deal; He and Hesh join, Hesh could get medical and both could get their freedom in the End.
A while ago, one of Logan's closest and alien-like friends had been abducted by the Taskforce and was being held as a Hostage and Prisoner of War. Logan was thinking of a way to break out his friend Garrus when he had an Idea, Though It was very dangerous.
Rorke had a folder in hand with Files about many Resistance bases and such. He stopped at an Interrogation room with the label '3' above the door. Rorke opened the door and Inside was an alien being known as Garrus.
Rorke pulled out a chair from under the table and sat in it. "Ahem...You are Garrus, Part of the Resistance, Yes?" He asked as he sat the folder down. Then he said, "Listen here, You're not getting out of here until you give me something about the resistance. And I can cut you a deal If you want to, And I mean I can get you your freedom, As long as you do something for me..." Rorke folded his arms and waited for the Alien to answer his questions.
"Does he... normally enjoy shouting about democracy?" Asked Blink, staring up with mild intimidation.
"Hm? Oh, yea, that's the 'ol Prime for ya!" Basilio said with a hearty laugh, "you're still kinda new, it becomes like our anthem after a while. Without him, Utopia would've probably been chased out by Taskforce or angry villagers by now." The stocky man, without his trusted axe for the moment, but still wearing his fancy armor from his days ruling Ferox, stepped a few feet closer, and raised a hand to magnify his voice.
"Hey!!! Down here, Rusty!" Basilio shouted, "you seen my krogan buddy anywhere from up there??" Basilio had noted that he hadn't seen Urdnot Wrex for two days now, odd for a Utopian. Normally, they don't leave for anything, save necessary trade and helping newcomers in, which was usually Blink's forte.
"Mm, too late to use the 'wrong place, wrong time' line?" Garrus asked, seeming calm for the moment. He'd done interrogations before, nothing too pretty. If anything, he was just impatient to get back to Wrex. Hell of a find, seeing the krogan in here. A good blunt instrument for breaking out of here. "When you say freedom, you mean like your gig, right? Gotta say I've run into one or two of your people, maybe more but who's counting -- didn't seem very free to me."
The 40-Foot robot stared down at Basilio and answered with, "I have not seen them in a few days or so. Warning, New Entity Detected Nearby. Exercise Caution." The large robot turned his head to a man in a suit of Veteran Riot Armor complete with an Anti-Material Rifle and a .357 Magnum.
Blue lights began to emit from Prime's eye as he scanned the still unconscious man. "Warning, Stand back from the person. Officer Identified. Weapons found in Database. Utilizing an ergonomic, metallic skeleton design with a free-floating barrel, the Fifty-Caliber Hécate II is a bolt-action, high caliber precision weapon intended for use against material and hard targets. For balance, the rifle includes a tapered barrel and a large muzzle brake to reduce recoil to manageable levels, and the Three-Fifty-Seven Magnum revolver is a single action, a fixed-cylinder revolver that fires Three-Fifty-Seven Magnum and Thirty-Eight special rounds. It has an average firing rate but makes up for it with fairly powerful damage output. Law Enforcement Authorized to Access System." Liberty Prime spoke as he kneeled and stared down at the Ranger as he slowly came back to Consciousness.
Eight woke up and opened his eyes to be stared down by a familiar-looking robot. Although Nobody could see his face, He was gaping at the large 40-Foot tall robot who has been clearly been modified since what...2277?
"L-Liberty Prime? Is that...really you? You've really changed since Twenty-Two-Seventy-Seven." The Ranger said as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. He recalled the Enclave missile strike that had previously destroyed the Commie-Crushing robot.
The robot answered with, "Yes, Designation: Liberty Prime. Mission: Kill every Chinese and Taskforce Son-Of-A-Bitch there is." The Ranger stumbled back as he had spotted nearby Alien beings wearing dress and armor unknown to him. "Whoa...Just Stay over there. Can someone explain to me where I am...Please?" Eight asked with a muffled metal tint to his voice.
Logan had snuck through the Taskforce base by crawling through the Airvents built into the walls and ceiling. "Logan..." A voice crackled from his radio and he quickly responded. "Hesh? Is that you?" Logan asks as he stops crawling. "Yeah...It's me, Logan. The doctor said I had to stay a few more days, Then I should be good." Hesh radioed back.
After their little conversation, Logan continued forward through the Ventilation occasionally looking through the different vent grates looking for Garrus. He continued crawling until he found the vent in which he could see Garrus. Garrus didn't look badly hurt and he was chained to the bar-mounted onto the table. A familiar-looking man wearing a black bandana was talking to Garrus, and It could only be one person.
"Rorke...So It was true, Eh?" Logan muttered to himself as he watched.
"Son, That ain't gonna work out with me. You know how the world works, and I do too. I'm not playing either, I just need you to bring me...somebody you might've heard of." Rorke started as he pulled out a full picture of the masked Logan Walker and slid it in front of Garrus. "Bring him to me, and I can...Give you your freedom back with permission to access this base freely," Rorke said with a smile.
"Also, Do you want to know why I want him?"
Gel was currently wading through water that came to his mid thigh. He dragged a large raft made from fallen logs and bound together with twisting vines. Atop it was a large cage filled with a asortment of plants, shrooms, and sacs that would occasionally wiggle and call out for help. "Oh sud'up you ummies, yall du uns dat cames intu my bayou. I put up dem totems wit da skulls fer a warn'en. Buuuuttt nooo......U alls comes in ta my home an dig around an scare all da critters so now yous lot gonna be used in a ritual ta make dis place able ta fight back, specially you gubmint man." He said as he used his free hand to move an old fallen tree out his path. "I hates most ummies but specially gubmint ummies, wid all your taxs and fancy words."
Man.... this gotta be one of the most weirdest set of events that has happened to him so far, and considering what he goes through daily.... he was sure that it earned that spot of being the weirdest. Before the event, he was doing the occasional, the thing he mostly does back when he was with the Regular Army on ‘his’ Earth. He was yet doing another rescue mission, saving more of the hostages under the hands of the Rebel army... bad fellows if he said so himself, but eh, it’s mostly opinion based as someone would be confused who is truly in the right and wrong here considering the amount of things either army did, but the Regular Army was mostly in the right. Anyways.... he was deployed to Brazil in South America in order to rescue the hostages that the main heroes like Marco or Fio can’t save on their one man army rampages on the land, and honestly, it was great getting a more serious mission than usual.
Like most other missions, he was dropped in disguised as a Rebel Grunt and infiltrate one of the many bases for his possibly week long mission. It was mostly to get more hostages out of the way while letting the more tougher ones save the rest, and for the most part, the mission was going well. Of course, things had to go wrong when someone pulled him along in his disguise about some sort of ‘experiment’, and he was told to guard the prisoners or as the officer put it ‘unwilling subjects’. Continuing on, he may of kinda.... added a new objective to his list, which was possibly figuring out what this secret weapon was and do something about it. Yada yada yada, he eventually moved a group of prisoners to the location with a few other guards and this is where things got interesting. Apparently, it was some sort of teleportor to another realm... and the prisoners were gonna be test subjects... and as soon as he figured it out, the test went on, and, if he said so himself... it kinda went, to hell.
The portal destabilized and began pulling everything into the portal, structures, vehicles, and most importantly, people. And he was a person with no way of stopping it... so badda bing, badda boom, he ended up landing on a couple of trash cans a few minutes earlier. Rough awakening... and another minute, it didn’t take him long that he was in another city instead, a alternate reality of the Earth where so many strange individuals are one the streets, including him, and is currently walking down the streets wondering what to do next. That was everything so far... and now, Tequila just wants to find a place to peacefully drink in peace, and not from his own flask, considering it was only for ‘celebrations’ and right now, it wasn’t something to celebrate.
Perhaps the gods themselves answered his call or he was very lucky, because a few minutes later, he eventually came across a bar... didn’t bother to read the name, he just went ahead and entered, saying to himself quietly:
“Let’s hope that they accept U.S. dollars here... considering it’s the only thing I have...”
And once he entered, some of the employees and customers gave a look his way at the newcomer, but went back to doing their thing. Tequila just went ahead and go to the bar section, sitting down in the many stools available, and began to wait a bit before ordering a drink.
Quartz the Wayseer
It was another day within the main Resistance base of Morocco... and in the many halls of the location, a robed figure was wandering the halls with no purpose in mind, wearing a mixture of dark purple and white cloth that covered his entire body, his right arm covered entirely in bandages, while his left was left rather exposed to the air, his completely darkened and wrinkly skin out for all to see. Within the hood of the man, was a shiny surface that seems to reflect everything back in it... a helmet the man was wearing. And occasionally tapping a long staff that was much taller than his form, and had a clear crystal at the top. He was none other than the well-known peace-keeper of the Resistance, Quartz... a man whose origin is mostly unknown, but claims to be a sort of follower under the ‘Elder ones’... and is mostly known for both his way of influencing individuals to take up arms and fight against the governments who dare to restrict the freedom of the otherworldly individuals while normal humans of Earthly nature were free to walk around without a single word, as well as being one who rather solves problems with peace than physical combat.
Right now, he seemed to be inspecting the entire compound by himself... making sure nothing is out of the wrong here, or anything considered ‘Sinful’ was occurring here. He knew that no society was completely pure of sin.... but he wants to make sure to control some of the more aggressive and hostile individuals within the Resistance so that it wouldn’t tarnish their nam any further.... and while he can’t stop everything around the world, he will try his best. Perhaps having a conversation with someone here wouldn’t hurt.
"A new guy?" Blink said aloud, turning to Basilio, "here?" She took a small step back, making a clop with her heel. "Pretty armed. Probably from some military, war zone world of some sort."
"Wanna come get a drink?" Basilio asked, remaining completely calm, "you might need a drink, after I try to explain your situation to you." He took a step forward, motioning with an arm the direction of the pub.
"First thing you should know though," Blink added, already starting to turn that way, "is that you're completely safe here. Unless you're going to try and kill us all. That would be... less than ideal." With that she left Basilio to the newcomer, making a headstart into the bar. She wasn't great with strangers anyway. Entering the bar, she learned she would face one regardless. For someone unfamiliar now sat at the bar. And Blink knew every Utopian. She was the one who had to teleport them all which way and back.
"Come here often?" She said lightly with an awkward chuckle, sitting down next to him and straightening the green leather jacket she wore.
Starflight was in what you could call his office space of sorts (or at least, the space they gave him, away from the others, when he was thrown this job), going through paperwork. Honestly, his favorite part of this job. No ordering people around, no fighting, no having to act like the big scary dragon he... really wasn't. Bliss. Until his head instinctively jerked up, towards the ceiling. Something wasn't right. Maybe it was paranoia. Happens, a lot. He'd rather send Taskforce members scrambling over nothing instead of ignoring his gut feeling and be punished for inaction later. Maybe the prison thing would've been the better option. Man, any one of my sisters would've been way better at this than me, he figured for the nineteenth time this month. Well, maybe he could just take a lap around the place, see if anything suspicious happens. After all, they finally had an alleged Resistance member. That could bring a lot of potential trouble, as well as benefits. The midnight-black dragon slid the door open, and stepped out to survey.
Garrus looked over the photo, his mandibles twitching a single time as he noted Logan. Garrus slid it back, stopping when his arm strained against its restraint. "Don't know them, but if I had to guess, put you through a lot of grief in your world? Yea, tough luck there. I've seen someone from my world too, and eh, not the person I'd have chose to live through a suppressed 21st century hell with. A little too racist against my people. I'm used to people calling me ugly, but he's more of a 'your race should burn for what they did' kinda guy. I saved the galaxy with him, still don't think he'd go out for brunch on The Citadel anytime soon."
Zadruch Vohn had been walking for hours when he finally had faith he had made good progress. It was getting harder as the bayou thickened, and he'd be no good if he tripped over some roots and twisted an ankle. He didn't realize how sore he was until he sat down on a log, feeling an aching pain in his calves. He took his bag off his shoulder, rifling through to see if he still had any good supplies. It'd been a moment since he'd been somewhere to resupply. He'd have to start making that a priority soon. The last time he was around civilization, he had encountered yet another soul like him, confused and seeking refuge. They camped for the night before she set off on her own nomadic voyage. Before her, Zadruch had encountered a young boy, unwillingly trapped with those Taskforce people. Zadruch hoped the kid made it through okay. Before he could muse more, he overheard a somewhat booming voice. Leaving his things for the moment, he stood up to go investigate. What he saw came as a slight surprise. Some sort of ent creature. Zadruch took in the wonder for a few moments, for it had been some time since he had seen a truly fantastical creature like this, before he recognized he must be trespassing. The dialogue he heard only confirmed it. "My mistake," he muttered aloud to himself, turning and going to collect his things.
Gel stopped and bent backwards as he stretched and his body creaked. He looked around him as he stretched enjoying the nature around him, that was when he saw a man on a near by bank walking away from him."Oi wat you do'en in my swamp. I puts up totems ta show ummies like yous where ya not wanted but noooooo. First it was da ummies cutting up my home, den it was da ummies breaking my totems, den des ummies were snoppiing round ma garden." He said as he lumbered towards the lone man. "Now here you are in da middle o ma home. Well I's guess one ore ummie ta feed da ritual won't urt." He was now only a few feet from this man so he thrust his long arm forward and at the same time the vines along his arms shot out just ahead of his hand and tried to grab the man.
Eight listened to the remark the female had made and replied with, "Well...Kinda. Just everything is always Radioactive or plants are always dead. Other than that...Traders usually get good scrap from the old robots and very good hide from Deathclaws..."
Then Basilio asked If the Ranger wanted a drink and he asked, "Sure! Does...This place...have uhh...Nukashine? Or Vodka?"
Logan stared down at the two in the interrogation room waiting for the right moment to strike and help out Garrus. He watches Rorke hand a picture of Logan to Garrus then he quickly slid it back. Garrus Spoke about something but It was muffled by the air flowing in the ventilation system.
Rorke picked up the picture and put it back into the folder. "You could say he caused me...Grief. But It wasn't his fault, It was his Father's. They threw me out of the helicopter to save the other Marines. I was in pretty bad shape, But the Federation helped me and Brainwashed me. That's when I became known as The Ghost Hunter," Rorke said as he got up. "Then they destroyed our Rig in the Artic, Then took down the train and shot me in the chest with this." Rorke pulled his .44 Magnum off his hip and slammed it onto the metal table, Making a loud clang.
"You see...Not all of us are that much different at all." Rorke said as he stared at the .44 Magnum. "I would try to grab Info from you, But someone isn't being cooperative with us." He tucked the .44 back into his holster and got up with the folder In hand. He turned to leave and walked back out into the hall. A lock sounded on the door as Rorke walked down the hall.
Ok.... this is probably enough time to wait around for a bit, gotta actually make an order for a drink and not just wait around for one to magically appear in front of him, as Tequila began the motion to begin a conversation with the bartender. But fate decided otherwise, and another individual entered the bar as well, a.... more weirder individual like the many others he met here in the city, who said ‘Come here often’, before sitting down next to him. Honestly, inside his head, he was just weirded out by the many other things he don’t normally see back at home... like completely green eyes and pink skin, well, some others don’t have the same eye color and normal skin pigment but this one probably is in the top ten. She also laughed in a kinda awkward manner, maybe she is one who goes to this place often and in his head, either trying to start a conversation the worst way possible or a completely unrelated pick-up line that he is too stupid to understand. Probably the former.... as they were maybe a bit more handsome folk in this establishment and he isn’t the kind of guy accepting any dumb requests now.
“Well.... if you mean by often as ‘recently arrived to this city’.... then yes, I’m pretty new around here. Uh, ahem, bar tender, can I get a cup of tequila over here.”
He said the last part towards the Bar tender, which was some sort of combination of bug and human... Tequila thinks it’s part Ladybug.... with a name tag named ‘Dave’ on its white shirt. ‘Dave’ merely replied with chittering of its insect like head... before turning around and grabbing a bottle from the shelf, as he began preparing the drink. Meanwhile, Tequila focuses back into the conversation and added in another sentence:
“So, why are ya asking? Just wanna talk to the new guy or something? Or are you looking for another drinking Buddy?”
The Military clothed man responded, as ‘Dave’ returned back with the all sacred liquid that beats all alcohol... well, in his opinion. Giving a nod and saying “Thanks“ in return, Tequila picked up the cup filled with the precious Golden liquid and raised it to his mouth, drinking from it for a couple of seconds before stopping, dropping the cup down as it now was 3/4 of its usual contents. Tequila now awaited a response from the lady.... as he stretch his arms for a bit, some harmless cracking coming from the bones and some of the stiffness going away from his arms, before going back to a more casual sitting position.
"Apologies!" Zadruch shouts, somewhat hurriedly as he dives a few yards away, partially with help from his magical-esc abilities. "I'm just a traveler, I didn't mean to impose or offend you!" He holds out a hand in defense, hoping to ward off the incoming assault -- he didn't want to fight this being, they weren't from the Taskforce or anything. Zadruch should've been careful, even out here in the wilderness. He could go for a gun, he has a pistol on his belt, but grabbing hold of it would only incite more hostility. He would wait and see what the creature does next before doing anything he'd regret.
"Vodka?" Basilio repeated with a gleeful tone, "I think we should get along famously!" He starts to lead at a decently slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm the guy. "Well, you landed in probably the luckiest spot -- not many show up right away in the only safe spot for otherworldly folk, like you and me. This is Utopia -- or, uh, what they've nicknamed the place. Apparently that name just stuck with people before a permanent one could be decided. I'm Basilio. I arrived here only a couple of months ago, it took me ages to travel to this place. I was pretty committed to landing myself here. But now, we've recruited Blink, who you've previously met. With her teleportation portals, we can track down and rescue people in a tiny fraction of the time it took before!"
Garrus watched the man leave, wincing slightly as the door shut and locked. "Damn. Pretty hardcore," Garrus said aloud to himself, "I never got such a cool origin story. Maybe I should make one up sometime. Impress all the guys in the bar. Heh." He continued to muse, somewhat bored, trying to kill time and keep himself level-headed. He looked at the cuff around his hand for a moment, then slowly tried using the talon on his other hand to pick the lock. "Ok. No. Stupid idea," he sighed, his talon too thick.
"Just... looking to help, if it's needed," Blink said with a shrug and a small smile, "that's what Utopia's all about, I'd like to think. Helping people, stuck in this shitty situation." Dave turned to her, expecting to take an order, but she waved him off, mouthing that she was OK. "It can be... kind of overwhelming, to most people." It wasn't truly her comfort zone, helping newcomers to this world. But to be safely surrounded by others in a similar situation, with a giant metal man keeping vigil... she could live with her portal task, and occasional welcome wagon, in return.
Starflight spotted Gabriel when he was out back in the hallway. "Rorke!" He called in a commanding tone, tilting his head down slightly to meet eyes. "How is everything with the prisoner? Any information at all?" He decided to ignore his current objective, more concerned about the intel gathering on Vakarian.
Gel's vines grasped at thin air as the man lept away. "Dame slippery un ain'tcha." He cursed under his breath. The man was apologizing, which just pissed Gel off more. "Oh your sorry are ya. Ya sayin ya didn't mean ta come inta ma home an sturb me huh. Well too late, I's been sturbed up an now yous going in da sack......well less yous can figure out sometin else ta make it up ta ma." He said with a large splinter filled grin. He had no plan to let this intruder go but from what he saw he probably couldn't catch him by himself. So he called to a few of the critters that were near by. "If yous can gives me sometin reals good like I might lets yous go." He said stalling for time as all manner of critters began to stalk closer. So far it was just a few small critters with the exception of two decently sized crocs that were slowly swimming just beneath the surface towards the bank.
This coffee -to be honest, Five didn't even know if he could call it coffee- tasted abysmal. In fact, it was probably the worst coffee he had ever even tasted. And considering he'd spent 45 years of his life living off a diet of cockroaches and stale twinkies, that said a lot.
He stared down at the foam up in his hand, upper lip curled in a display of disgust. The black liquid looked more like tar than anything else. He didn't waste a second before tipping the cup upside down, pouring the contents out onto the ground beneath his feet.
"What a waste of cash, you'd think a place called Utopia would make better coffee." Truthfully, he hadn't actually payed. He'd taken his order and teleported out of the "café" before the pitiful excuse of a barista could even blink.
He wasn't paying for something that tasted like liquid shit. He'd rather save his money for something like-
His gaze latched onto a sign of a nearby building.
A bar! How perfect. Maybe a drink could wash away the stale taste in his mouth.
He ignored the burning gaze of onlookers as he walked into the bar, eyes briefly taking in the faces of the people present. There wasn't many, a couple of people seated at the bar itself, and a few guys scattered across various tables.
"I think you've had enough for today." The barely concious man was too drunk off his ass to respond, so Five took that as an invitation to swipe his drink.
Not his usual choice, but it would do. In a flash of blue he'd seated himself at one of the tables, glass already at his lips. He paused a moment, before lowering it, eyes flicking about a moment. "If you're still taking orders-" He spoke loud enough for the room to hear, setting his glass down for a moment, letting his arms rest on the table top. "-I'll take a margarita."
Connor needed supplies. Thirium, to be exact. He'd managed to get a particularly nasty gash across his upper right bicep, it didn't bother him, of course, but it had lost him enough thirium that his levels were sitting at 89%.
Which wasn't enough.
This land was dangerous. He'd learnt that the hard way. He needed to keep his strength up.
The android honestly wasn't surprised by his lack of success. This wasn't Detroit. Wasn't home. It made sense for him to find nothing. After all, he was a foreign android, in a foreign land. They probably didn't cater to his species, probably didn't know he existed.
Connor wanted it to stay that way.
The streets of Utopia were surprisingly empty, which he didn't mind. It left him with an opportunity to scope the place out, gather a lay of the land, know where he was going. His LED flickered yellow as he walked, eyes dancing between buildings, absorbing the information of everything around him.
It wasn't useful. But he already knew enough to keep himself safe.
Avoid the taskforce.
The objective stood out on his HUD, a bright warning in his field of vision. They were dangerous. Tracking down and containing people, people like him, because they weren't supposed to be here.
He didn't want to be contained. His people had fought hard enough for their freedom, he wasn't going to lose it again.
The 40-Foot robot continued on in his Mission to protect Utopia. The gears and Hydraulics could be heard for a mile or so.
Eight felt a smile slowly fit on his face. "I believe I can help as well. I'm a Mercenary...from my world. I track, Hunt, or Kill, and still get paid. Oh...By the way, Does this...place accept these? They're called caps where I'm from." Eight pulled a small bag from out NCR Duster and spilled a few of the 'caps' onto his hands as he followed Basilio.
Logan had stuck his gloved fingers through the grate and pulled the grate up gently then placed it in front of him. "Alright...Here we go..." Logan said as he dropped onto the cold floor. He got up and attached a Grenade rig to the door, When It would open: Boom!
The Ghost turned to his friend and aimed his gun at the lock keeping the chain around the Vakarian's hands and pulled the trigger. The lock shredded to pieces and the chain fell loose. "I never leave brothers behind," Logan said as he held his Berreta M9A1 out towards Garrus. "You do know how to fire one of...these right?"
"Sir, No Information was expelled. I believe I will have to Interrogate him with the Torturing methods. By that I mean...Waterboarding, An annoying song, White noise, and some others. I mainly use beating the knees and Brainwashing, Which is very difficult." Rorke said as he let out a salute to Starflight. "Now that said, I must go get the materials needed for my new science project on the stars." Rorke said as he chuckled a bit and walked off slowly.
Location: Taskforce Detention Facility Interactions: Open Mentions: Starflight (gwenpool
Cole and a few other Taskforce agents were escorting their latest detainee, Superman, to one of the detention cells.
Cole had learnt from previous interrogations of similar individuals how powerful Superman was so, aware of the two heroes relationship, Cole had assumed his Batman sculpt as a precaution when he initially arrived at the kryptonian's location. Superman, however, had quickly seen through Cole's ruse but, thankfully for all parties involved, he offered little resistance and agreed to willingly come with him.
There was also the unexpected surprise of a second individual at the sight; a white Labrador wearing a red cape who also possessed powers. The bizarrely dressed animal was apparently called Krypto and it appeared to be Superman's pet. Fortunately, it complied with the agents as well as it faithfully followed its master's instructions.
When they reached the detention facility, they had shackled both Superman and Krypto in golden chains but Cole suspected they would do little good should the two decide to make an escape. As they arrived at one of the detention cells, Cole removed the shackles from Superman and Krypto and they both peacefully entered the cell. Cole locked it behind them before making his way towards Starflight's office to file his report.
Dag was out of his disguise while inside the base. He was tasked with research, as usual. As he looked over stacks of papers and files, his antennae flicked with every noise they picked up beyond his little office. "So little to work with, yet so little to do," Dag muttered, sighing as he put the papers down back in their organized mess. He decided to try and get another task.
Dag wondered out of the lab, blue bug-like eyes scanning the halls. He had started to memorize the layout of the base but was still struggling in some places. At least he didn't need to sleep or even eat very much, making him a more efficient worker compared to humans. Ugh.. Where are they?
Sebastian wandered down the hall to the 'recreation' room. He'd spent some time to process his unique (or perhaps not so unique) situation. He's been attending his usual duties, when he'd suddenly found himself walking thru an unusual hall. He had ended up with Taskforce soldiers on him nearly instantly, considering he'd quite literally popped in not far from their base.
He went quietly, as he had no clue as to what happened. Nor could he sense his Young Master anywhere. They'd given him a choice, and for now, he chose to stay inside their prison. Regardless of what they called it, it is what this place seemed to be. This was actually the first time he'd left the room he'd been housed in. He'd spent the past week and a half brooding and thinking. He wasn't exactly a happy demon at the moment. But there was nothing he could do about it. It was time he stopped sulking and got his bearings.
First thing he knew, he had to get himself accustomed to this worlds technology. It was far more advanced than what he was use to. Though, not unthinkable. He paused at the doorway to the room he been traveling to, his reddish eyes focusing on the card scanner. He was curious as to how it functioned, but he shook his head. He'd learn eventually. For now, he wanted to keep a low profile. He could only hope his master wouldn't end up dead without him there to babysit the manor.
For now, he opened the door, stepping inside and let it drift shut behind him. He eyes going over the room, quickly memorizing the layout, and the different scents. Any possible doors leading elsewhere, and even any occupants in the room.
Raistlin and Tasslehoff
Somewhere else in the world
Raistlin woke up as he usually did. Being, that he was hacking up a lung. The young mage could do nothing to stop it, as his frail body curled up on itself as he coughed and gasped for breath. Where was that oaf of a brother of his? Caramon was usually so quick to fuss.
Finally, the wizard drew a shakey breath. He slumped against the tree he was leaning up in his sleep. The day was only barely starting, and he was already exhausted. He took a hankerchief, whipping his lips with it. The residue of blood was common, at this point. And even in his exhausted state, he knew something was wrong. He finally opened his eyes.
He blinked, reaching out for the staff he always had with him. The camp was gone. Or, most of it. He peered thru the dense trees. They were not the same aspens he'd fallen asleep under. Breathing heavily, his breath rattling in his chest, the wizard made his way over to his only existing companion. The fire from the night before was not even there. Which unfortunately ment he would need to make one, or go without his tea.
Another coughing fit proved the second option would not bode well of him.
"Tas…" the wizard rasped, trying to rouse the small creature at his feet thru his fit. It didn't work. The kender was out cold it seemed. The fit ended, the he was able to move again. He knelt, reaching over to harshly shake the Kender. "Tas, wake up!" Raistlin bit out impatiently.
This time, the Kender shifted. "No, no…" the lenders voice drifted unintelligibly.
"Tasslehoff! Wake up!" Raistlin tried again, gripping the Kender harder.
"Wha-? Huh? Good morning Raistlin…" the Kender, named Tasslehoff, or Tas for short, rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Is something wrong? It's still early." He yawned and stretched. Only to wake up more as the mage was struck by yet another coughing fit.
"Say, where's Caramon? And Tanis, hey Flint's missing too! Where is everyone?" The kender, now awake, spoke a mile a minute as he realized all his friends were gone. Then he realized that the one that *was* with him was not doing well.
"Hold on! I'll go find Caramon!" Tas promise, springing up, seeming to forget he was still in a sleeping bag. He fell over, wriggled out of the bag, and sprung up again. By this time, the wizard was again breathing.
"No… Tas.. wood… fire…" he rasped, and luckily the Kender understood.
"Right! I'll find sticks! By my very topknot, you can count on me!" The kender puffed his chest before shipping up his Hoopak and doing just that. Going around and gathering whatever he could carry and bringing them to the sickly mage. Luckily, sticks seemed plentiful and the Kender didn't have to go far. Raistlin was able to call out reminders that he was waiting after the Kender got distracted by a trail of ants, a mushroom that Raistlin insisted he shouldn't eat, and a bright colored leaf that ended up in one of his many, many pouches.
Once the wizard had enough wood for a small fire, he worked on trying to start a fire. He was not usually the one to do it, but he did know how. With Tas' help, they had a small fire. Not long after, the wizard was able to heat some water for his tea.
"See? I told you you could count on me!" Tas said proudly, completely oblivious the the mages sour look. "But… where are we?"
"That, Tasslehoff, is the first intelligent thing you have said today." Raistlin muttered, staring at the cup of leaves, waiting for the couple minutes of steeping to pass. "I do not know…"
"Were we magicked, Raistlin? Oh, it would be fun if we were!"
Raistlin ignored him, thinking about their situation. He'd have rathered the dwarf or knight with their lack of trust in him for his magical art. He took his drink, the bitter fluid ready. He could feel it's soothing affect just by breathing the the steam. His eyes darted around them, wondering where they were taken. And why it was just them. Why hadn't the whole group come?
Tas eventually grew bored and dumped his pouches to look thru his belongings. A small blessing for the frail wizard, as it allowed him to ponder theories.
For the most beloved meat shield in Taskforce history, no mission -or death- was too small. For such a noble cause as bringing perhaps questionable order to Earth Jack will strive forward. Even if this Earth happens to not be his Earth. No matter how many gunshots, decapitations, disembowelments and yes, even hangnails he suffers Jack will keep going. At least until these hopefully honest people send him back to the future where things make sense.
On this fine day Meat Shield Man’s mission had sent him to…a swamp. A swamp full of mosquitoes, at least one man-eating crocodile and leeches that too often made their way to unmentionable places. It was hell, and Jack had died enough these past few weeks to probably have an idea of what hell is. At least he might, but each time he dies all he can recall from his deathly sleep is the sensation of walking through water and being engulfed in a thick haze.
“Yep. This is the good life.” He grunted his way through a bramble toward the sound of what he presumed to be his target. A tree. A very grumpy one at that.
Breaking through the final tangle of vine and branch Jack came to a stop in the opening and momentarily eyed the scene before him. Quickly piecing things together he decided it best to help the semi-human looking man. Unfortunately for the alien Jack may have lost all his gear after getting caught in a crocodile death roll. But that’s okay, Jack had a plan. Kinda.
“HEY!” His shout was filled with bravado and with hands planted on his hips he would look almost heroic if…you know…he actually looked heroic.
Alcatraz had made It to the Ceph Spire which was quite literally floating in the sky, Giant metal alien tentacles kept the part of the ground up in one piece. He fought his way to the spire past heavily armoured beings known as 'Heavy Cephs'. He approached It as his communicator came online, "Strat-Comm Warning just went through! My God...They're gonna do it! Alcatraz, You are out of time! Go! Go! Go!" Alcatraz fought yet another Ceph-Cloaker and jumped into the spire. The spore pushed him back as It burned up his suit, Which he quickly activated Armor mode. He had made it to the edge and hopped off falling into the spiral and passing out.
You see, the thing Is, He was supposed to die, but a portal had sucked him up and spat him onto the ground of an unfamiliar place but also his homeworld...Earth. His brain was supposed to be destroyed and the previous wearer's consciousness Installed into the suit once more, But that never happened.
A small group of Taskforce soldiers had made their way to where Alcatraz was supposedly located and one had turned on his radio. "Subject is dead, No-" Before he could finish speaking, Alcatraz had picked up the man by his neck as the sun glinted off his reddish-brown visor. For whoever was listening on the other side, All they could hear was a loud cracking sound then shouts and gunfire.
Lungwort sat at her small “office” type space, staring at the countless piles of charts, lists, and documents she needed to finish. Her head seethed with a sharp, shooting pain that crawled up the back of her neck, overwhelmed by the amount of “behind the scenes” work she had to complete outside the operating room.
The hound was drained; all mental, physical, and emotional aspects of her were exhausted. A small sigh escaped from her, trying to stay concentrated on the task at hand.
She hoped for someone to walk in the door, to beckon her away from the more boring aspects of her occupation. Lungwort enjoyed her job, really, she did, but tedious days like these ate her alive. There was already a large chunk of her paperwork done, placed back in its appropriate folder to stuff into the filing cabinet at a later time.
Her office is considered to be outpatient, a place where minor injuries or ailments could be treated without the need for an overnight stay. She’d have them come in, be fixed, and send them on their way. Rarely, she has had patients come in, needing emergency care, but were only able to reach her office.
She pushed through her work, hopeful that she would see at least one patient for the day.
Vohn was now getting the creeping sensation that this may be a somewhat perilous encounter for him. "I think we both know I don't have anything you'd want, unless you're looking for or the need for a mercenary, maybe a loose bag of peanuts I still have in here somewhere..." stalling aside, he still hesitated from drawing his weapon, holding his ground for the moment. Maybe this didn't have to end in a fight, but he sure as hell didn't want to end up like the rest of those souls.
"Sir?" a masculine voice echoed, before Zadruch's Ghost, spring green in color, appeared by his side, facing him. His Ghost, the term for the teleporting robot companion, quizzically stared with its single, illuminated light.
"Sir, we're about seven hours from our target location, should I go ahead and cancel- OH MY GOD." The ghost had now turned and seen the giant tree monster. "Yea, Pepper, I'm dealing with this at the moment," Zadruch sighed impatiently, using the nickname he gave his ghost.
"Sir, that is a giant fucking tree monster, I am calculating many dangerous scenarios where you, and by relation, more importantly, I, are killed by this thing -- would you like me to discuss your choices of possible escape routes?"
"Pepper, stop talking, let me handle this, please," Zadruch retorted.
"Sorry sir, am I interrupting a pleasant chat with the swamp man??" Zadruch swiped away at his ghost, who teleported behind him.
"rude," Pepper squeaked. Zadruch stopped. He heard someone shouting -- and not another grumpy tree man. The awoken turned his head to see a human coming this way.
"Oh, hello there," he said somewhat calmly, not wanting to sound frantic and therefore only make Gel kill him faster, "fate must smile upon me today." He assumed this person to be yet another wandering soul -- he seems to find a lot of them. Maybe he could help.
"I...wouldn't worry about it, for now," Basilio gave a long stare at the unknown currency, "I'll cover you." Basilio was lucky that his currency, Gold, happened to be worth a shitload more in this world. He was able to exchange it for this world's currency surprisingly easy. "You old enough to be in here, kid?" asked Basilio to the one that ordered a margarita as the barbarian khan entered with the newcomer, "hah, just kidding, I didn't understand this world's rules with drinking anyway. Drinking was my favorite pastime growing up!" He laughed to himself before taking a seat, giving a nod to Blink who he saw by the bar. "Well, what do you want to know?" He asked to Eight, "I respect the mercenary life. I come from rulership of a country that was founded by mercenaries; was built as a place for all the sorts that lived and worked for coin."
It was probably difficult to tell by the Turian expressions, but Garrus was relieved to see the friendly face. "Thanks for saving the damsel in distress," he remarked casually, "you can kiss me later." He held up the given gun. "Oh-ho-ho, I have damned missed holding a gun, ready to take some people out! Got some grudges already, if you can believe it."
"Whatever you have to do," Starflight said with a nod, holding a firm stare, "finding that base, and snuffing it out, is our highest priority. As you were." He watched Rorke go before continuing on his patrol. Playing this act would be the death of him, but he was lucky for a large amount of reasons. Lucky his brother and sisters made him play-act all of the history lessons they learned as kids, lucky that no one here could recognize he was still not a full adult, and just saw him as a scary dragon. He was supposed to help stop a war back in his world, be a hero -- here, he was arguably stopping a war, but this didn't feel right. A prophecy-bound hero, justifying torture? But he had to keep this up, for his own good. And maybe he could bring about good change, after all. It's not like any harm comes to those who accept this temporary solution. And they do want to send people back, when a way is found. After walking for some time, he decided to call this patrol short, and went back to his office, where he noticed Cole was also seemingly headed that way.
"Captain," Starflight greeted neutrally, "is there something I can help you with?"
Korra was stepping down the colorful yet quiet streets of Singapore, headed in a straight line on her polar bear dog, Naga, occasionally shielding a hand over her eyes while she tried to navigate. Eventually, she did spot someone, wearing a sort of suit that looked a little on the futuristic side. This kinda thing didn't really surprise her anymore, due to all the sorts she'd come across, but it was still pretty awesome to see.
"Hey!" she shouted with a little wave from an outstretched arm. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm lost. Is this Utopia?" She asked Connor.
Silque's walk through the woods, where she was mostly negligent of what was in front of her due to her diligently watching a pager-like device, was interrupted when she heard what sounded like coughing. Never one to ignore the grievances of someone unwell, she temporarily shifted her priorities from her search to tracking down this source. What she came across seemed to be a makeshift camp, with two beings of unknown origin.
"Oh, hello!" She said with a polite bow, "I heard you both speaking and wanted to make sure you weren't in need of any assistance! I've been investigating this area to look for my friend, you see."
It had been a long day. Alpha had spent most of it doing what she did best, surviving, the usual. Pick-pocketing and stealing wasn't very fufilling, but it kept the food on the table. Cash was hard to track in such small amounts, and occasionally the odd score kept her in her home. She would think about this, as she kept her head down and the hood of her zipped up parka up, her hands in her pockets.
She didn't know how long she'd lived like this, since she'd shown up here and this....Taskforce, or whatever, had attempted to forcefully recruit or imprison members. The Resistance that followed wasn't much better, and the Boss Monster considered places like Utopia like a fairy tale. Even if it was real, Utopia was likely nothing more than a third party, and not a major player, she thought as she walked.
All Alpha knew was that she didn't have much choice but stay here and hide or run when the time came to slip town. Sometimes she'd even manage to get enough to afford warmer clothes or a luxury like coffee or chocolate. Sometimes she wouldn't get enough to get food. It was always a toss-up, but at least it was a stable routine.
Of course, she didn't have too terribly long to consider this, raising her head enough to see ahead properly and watch for either police or a prime target. Though, the idea of walking back to her temporary home, a little rundown apartment on the shady side of town, appealed to her....
"Well well well lookey wat wes got here." He said as he looked over at the newcomer. "It seem wes gots another ummie. Yous just waits right der, I's gonna deals wit you in a bit." He looked from the newcomer then back to the self proclaimed merc. Now his first two crocs were near the bank hiding just beneath the water, and he was able to collect enough leeches for a medium sized swarm (a few hundred) which he sent towards the other man, they remained hidden just beneath the muck. "Yous says ya ain't got nuttin I's wants. Well dat ain't true. Yous sees, I's needs souls ta feed ta ma ritual. Now Imma gits yous'es unless yous has any....extras yous not using?" He said as he leaned in close enough for the man to smell his stench and he silently ordered his minions to attack if either of them tried to run or attack.
Dag decided he needed to take a break from his work. Dawning his human disguise, Dag went to explore the outside world. Though, by now, everything around the base was boring to him.
Walking a path that was familiar to him, Dag stared at his datapad. No signs of Zim or the Irken empire, for that matter. The scientist was partially grateful that he was free from the Tallest's wrath but also... scared? He didn't know how to describe how else he felt about his new situation. This world was Earth, Dag knew that, but why was it so different?
"Perhaps it's the increased intelligence level of the dominant species? The humans on this Earth seem much more adept than those of my reality," he thought aloud. The Irken looked through his logs once more, noting the better air and water quality, much to his relief. It was originally thought that the water itself was harmful to Irken biology, but rather, it was the massive amounts of pollution in the water that caused physical damage. Though, the quality of both was still much lower than he would have liked.
Dag looked up from his device as he came close to a populated area. This was great! He had managed to get ahold of a fair amount of human currency for this area. With his money, Dag decided to purchase a few different weird-looking fruits. "I wonder if I can eat these."
Well, at least he had gotten an answer, as the still strange looking woman was just seeing if he need any help, and said more about ‘Utopia’, which he figured was the name of this city, and that it can be overwhelming to some individuals. In a way, Tequila could say the same thing, considering some people are not used to these kinds of things and would freak out over this... but not him. This is very similar to the Earth back at home, no matter how weird it is, but it was still very normal considering what he usually goes through on a daily basis.... especially with much more peace.
“I can see where you are coming from, but so far, this Earth seems pretty tame in comparison to my world.... a lot more chaotic if I say so myself, so I’m pretty calm as of the moment. Being a soldier is tough back where I’m from, and getting to relax is something I enjoy so much.”
Tequila had said, drinking much more from the cup of golden liquid, drinking much more than the last one, and now only left of 1/4 of the drink left inside the cup. But even then, he wasn’t feeling any effect of the drink hitting him yet... good thing he has a gut of steel or else he wouldn’t handle his most favorite drinks at all. He then realized something.... all this time, he had been talking, and they hadn’t even exchange names with one another, well, he doesn’t want to come out as rude to someone.... but, he could also lie as well about his origin or just say his name.... well, it’s much better to go with the lying route. After all, he was completely sure this person has never been to his world before.
“Ahem... excuse me for my manners, but the name is Sergeant Tequila of the Regular Army of my Earth... nice to meet you miss.....”
He finished, as he extended a hand towards the woman for a handshake, waiting for a response in order to continue the conversation.