Owen heard the exchange between Frosty and Alex. "You know, I think buzzboy's right on this one. I don't know about you, but I aint risking lead stitching if we don't have to!"
[QUOTE=Infab;50123575] "Hey, sexpot. I need some help. Any good with a knife?" [/QUOTE]
Bucky nods and slinks over. "What do you need me to do?" She asks, putting her plasma pistol on safe and pocketing it. She keeps her head on a swivel to keep a lookout for any Mafia goons that come looking for trouble.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Hariim monitors his feeds, and stabilizes the connection to Frosty's ship and the squad's gear. He keeps the load on his chrome bits light, and works with simple thorough efficiency.
Frosty spoke one last thing before he exited the cockpit.
"Hariim, you won't need to give me the feeds anymore. I'm disembarking so I can take the last hitmen down. I'm gonna sneak in so they won't see me coming."
He locked down his Voidwalker, and with his laser uzi in hand, carefully and cautiously enters the hotel lobby with whoever else may be entering.
[QUOTE]"What do you need me to do?" She asks, putting her plasma pistol on safe and pocketing it.[/QUOTE]
Valkyrie attempts to hand the knife to Bucky. "Know who the Bloodrunners are? Gonna need you to carve some things related to them into a few bodies. I'll tell you what to carve, then I'll spray paint shit all over the cars and inside the hotel when they get through killing the rest of those grease balls."
[QUOTE=Infab;50127363]Valkyrie attempts to hand the knife to Bucky. "Know who the Bloodrunners are? Gonna need you to carve some things related to them into a few bodies. I'll tell you what to carve, then I'll spray paint shit all over the cars and inside the hotel when they get through killing the rest of those grease balls."[/QUOTE]
"Yeah, I seen enough to know about Bloodrunners. Good idea by the way!" Bucky takes the knife and looks around for the nearest body, and then carefully slides over to it and begins carving into them with the knife. She doesn't seem to like the grisly work, but puts up with it for her crew.
------------------------------------------------------------
Hariim notes Frosty's message, and cuts the feeds. He uses the freed-up processing power to run self-diagnostics on the cybernetics in his body.
[QUOTE]"Yeah, I seen enough to know about Bloodrunners. Good idea by the way!" Bucky takes the knife and looks around for the nearest body, and then carefully slides over to it and begins carving into them with the knife.[/QUOTE]
Valkyrie moves to where she is, and looks on. Commenting here and there on how the cuts and designs should look. It has to be as authentic as they can make it, otherwise it might not work. "A series of deep cuts. Vertical straight lines, spaced out like tally marks, across the chest..." she said, tracing where the marks should be on the dead hitman's bare chest using her finger. "Its a common Bloodrunner thing."
Bucky follows Valkyrie's instructions. Her fast hands working as quickly as Valk can point out where to cut. She finishes her work quickly, and hands the knife back to Valkyrie. "Something to put of the resume, I guess. 'Has planted false evidence' has a nice ring to it, don'cha think?"
[QUOTE]"Something to put of the resume, I guess. 'Has planted false evidence' has a nice ring to it, don'cha think?"[/QUOTE]
"Heh, yeah." said Valkyrie, smiling as she inspected Bucky's work. "Alright, we've gotta do this to a few of the other bodies inside the hotel too. That comes after they finish the goons off." she continued, as she slipped out of the car and motioned to the hotel. She drew a red can of spray paint from her bag, and shook it violently before popping the cap off. A few moments later, she sprayed a large circle on the side of the car. In the center of the large circle, she painted a large red raindrop like shape. A blood drop in a circle. Bloodrunner. She looked her work over, then grinned. "Well, that's one tag. Gotta do it a few more times in the hotel for good measure."
Bucky nods and gets ready to move into the building. She draws her plasma pistol and takes it off safety, and checks its charge. "Ready when you are, Valk." She turns to John and asks: "Got my back?"
"Of course," János said, as he reloaded his P888.
Sledge had lost his balance after hitting that one mafioso and after taking a few hits had more or less stumbled out of the fight. He took a moment to let the nanites take care of his wounds, but they weren't closing up. He must have thrown up a significant amount of nanites, and those that were left were likely fighting off the alcohol poisoning. He assumed that was the case because the drunkenness was fading fast and was being replaced with the searing pain of multiple bullet wounds.
Pulling himself up, Sledge noticed the remaining mafiosos had taken cover nearby. He suppressed his immediate impulse to sprint at them and start smashing. The rest of the crew appeared ready to unload on those guys and Sledge didn't want to be caught in too much crossfire. Or did he?
No, he didn't. That was a dumb thought. A less dumb thought was creating a distraction. The Mafia was a gaggle of toughened goons but there were ways of getting them to lose their cool. Insulting members of the Family was one. Insulting the Old Country was another. Generally being a complete ass was a third. Why not all three then?
Sledge hoisted a dead mafioso off the ground and began flailing him about like a ragdoll puppet and doing a terrible Italian accent. "Hey-a paisanos! It's-a me, Giuseppe! Brought-a back from the dead to sing-a one more song from Terra-Italia! [i]Ohhhhhhhhh!~ When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie! That's-a spaghetti!~[/i]"
(( Sledge rolls to take all the damage from the mafiosos this turn that would have been dealt to other crewmembers ))
[video=youtube;no12ubHqR1E]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=no12ubHqR1E[/video]
[i]Kazakh Military Shipyard, Terra...[/i]
A lone ram walked across the rocky cliffs, stopping only briefly to feast on the many plants tucked away in Kazakhstans's many mountains. Aside from the sound of its hooves clapping against the rocks the surrounding area was quiet. Not even the wind could be heard.
The animal continued towards the top, having spotted a large patch of flowers and grass on a smaller plateau ahead.
Just as the source of food was within its reach, the silence was broken. The ram looked up.
Flying at a incredible speed, a squadron of SDF adeptors raced across the sky and between the many mountain tops. Aside from the many animals in the area the inhabitants of a small sleepy village looked up in awe as the sleek dropships traveled north towards the SDF KMS site.
[i]"Sokol three-zero-six, reporting all clear. We are two minutes out, how copy tower?"
"Copy that Sokol, hangar tree is available. Launch is in five, I repeat, launch is in five. Tower out."[/i]
The pilot nodded and fipped a button, tinting the cockpit windshield slightly. He nodded towards the co-pilot who updated the HUD, now showing the landing instructions for the squadron.
As they reached one of the many mountain tops the trio of ships turned right, infront of them was the bright sun and a massive complex positioned below on a open field.
Maintaining a surgical precision, the three ships formed up on a row and began flying towards the open hangar. All around them there were hundreds of service personnel carrying out numerous tasks untill the launch. Vehicles were seen moving all over the base, travelling from one building to another while security aircraft returned from their patrols.
Closing in on the hangar, a loud alarm was turned on all over the base. Similar to a air raid siren, the public announcement system came to life.
[i]"Внимание! Шаг первый начал. Attention! Step one inititated. 注意！第一步开始。"[/i]
Suddenly the sunlight was blocked and the three dropships caught in a massive shadow. The pilot looked up.
Slowly moving upwards thanks to the enormous lift it had been constructed on, the massive [i]SNV Redstar[/i] saw daylight for the first time. A Siberia-class battleship the Redstar was the first of its kind. Built to house an army of TIGER units alongside their equipment, the Redstar was equipped with powerful kinetic and gauss cannons meant to smash through the heaviest of ships and defenses.
The largest of these weapons was mounted at the nose while most of the other cannons were linked to broadside turrets.
Several of the base personnel stopped and looked at the massive ship in awe as it began to gradually cover more and more of the base in near-complete darkness.
The sound of steps echoed on the bridge as Lord Admiral Viktor Zhaneys walked towards his captain's chair. Still not used to his new uniform, Zhaneys sat down in the chair and looked out the window. He smiled and looked to his right.
"First Officer Zhu, what is our status?"
Zhu looked up from his terminal. "Ready to launch in one minute, sir. Ground teams are clearing out into the bunkers and the elevator rockets are being shielded by the technical teams."
Satisfied with the asnwer Zhaneys stood up and walked up to the window. When the bridge had quieted down he turned around. All eyes were on him.
He looked at each and every face with pride. Most of the Redstar's crew had served with him onboard the SNV Mjolnir. Together they had fought in many battles, of which the most noteable one was the battle of Zeruel.
"Crew, today we are given the honor of manning one of Terras finest vessels. Today we fly the Redstar into space, the beginning of our mission to Novithus but also the coninuation of our life-long journey. It has been a true honor to serve with all of you and I hope that this day marks the start of yet another chapter which we will write together. For Terra!"
"For Terra!" Repeated the crew as Zhaneys turned back.
"Control, Redstar is awaiting your go." Said the Lord Admiral.
"Redstar this is KMS Control, please hold."
Looking out through the window and out towards the base, Viktor could see the last personnel rushing into the many security bunkers positioned around the base.
"KMS Control to Redstar, you are clear for launch. I repeat, you are clear for launch. Удачи!" [i]Good luck![/i]
Zhaneys nodded towards Zhu who then sat down and opened up the intercom. "Attention all personnel, we are clear for take-off! Please move to your designated posts and hold untill further notice." He turned to a man in grey and yellow Sol navy uniform.
"Engines to maximum, begin on my mark."
Zhaneys sat down and nodded towards Zhu.
"Mark."
With a deafening sound the Redstar started its engines as well as several of its exterior thrusters. Four launch thrusters were temporarily positioned on its starboard and port sides.
Filling the surrounding base with a immense amount of heat and smoke the ship slowly began to take off.
As soon as it had reached a ten kilometer altitude the extra launch thrusters suddenly disconnected and fell down onto the field next to the base where they would be dismantled and put back together for the next vessel in line.
After ten minutes the SNV Redstar had breached the atmosphere and entered orbit, a minute after that it jumped out of the system and towards Novithus, a journey which would take three hours.
((I finished the last of my term papers on Friday morning. I used the time afterward to address some obligations and catch up on sleep, and I'll be unavailable tomorrow. But right now I've got some time and I'm ready to write a big update.))
The Palazzo - 11:00PM, January 12th, 2385
Donatello started at the sound of a creaking door on the opposite side of the library. He had been deep in prayer and contemplation for hours, gathering the strength that he needed to face the uncertainty of his current place in life. After so many years, and so many attempted assassinations, his grandfather had beaten the odds and died with dignity, leaving behind a legacy of uncompromising loyalty to the crime family. Donatello had long prepared for this day, but only now was it clear that the voice which guided his decisions, the mind which shaped his past, and the heart that ached for a grandson's future- they were all gone now. There would be no further life advice. No further words of encouragement. No more admonishments to remind the boy of his limits.
No, Donatello was no longer a boy. He was a man, and now, on the eve of the greatest task of the year, he was entirely in control of his own destiny. Nonno was somewhere in the heavens, as far as he was concerned; no condemnation from any holy man or passage in the Bible could convince him otherwise. Not that either of those things were easy to encounter in a humanity devoid of faith, but it seemed so paradoxical that those who flaunted the sanctity of life and the lessons of Christ were among the only adherents to Christianity left on this sin-ridden, prodigal world. And yet this irony, which Donatello appreciated from early youth as an essential scrap of his life's quilt, seemed more questionable than ever. Perhaps it wasn't irony, but simply a lie. He cursed himself for never reading the Bible in its entirety, for years of dispassionate prayers... for doubting his faith.
Here, as he anxiously begged for God to stoop down and reveal the angelic ghost of his grandfather, he sickened himself with his own past failures. He wanted to be a better man, a stronger man, a more faithful man. Maybe if he improved himself, then God would answer his prayers. Maybe if he were a better man, he would be reassured that one day, he would be reunited in heaven with his grandfather, and grandmother, for that matter. But on some level, a darker spirit laughed at him, reminding him of that day in his youth when he burned an image of Jesus in a vain attempt to prove his independence, his mastery over his own destiny. There was no belief which could control him, no creed which would rob him of his freedom. Why now would he have faith? It was agony, this grief, and the weight of all responsibility for the worlds of life and death alike. Somehow, as a young man he proved himself a failure of an atheist, and as an adult he was failing as a Christian.
"Father, I'm sorry. I know you're grieving, and so I'll be brief." It was Franco, his youngest son, fifth among Donatello's children and one of three brothers. He was also the only one of the lot which lived with their father.
"No, it's okay. Please come in. I can't find any peace in this loneliness."
Franco took a seat on a wooden chair, tactfully avoiding the leather chair where his great grandfather often sat reading about the great history of humanity, and the vivid contrast which once defined its culture. Jon was one of the only men, anywhere in the galaxy, who understood what it meant to be Italian. He held his heritage dear.
Franco's face was as grim as his father's. He came baring bad news. "That operation at Hotel Prospera..." he began.
---
Sledge:
CH Estimate: 5/7
[B]Actual: 2[/B]
Roll Failed.
Sledge was making a complete ass of himself, as usual. The gunmen were terrified before, but his action actually brought them to a frothing rage, and gave them all the more reason to keep on fighting. Whoops.
Taylor was able to get her attack off first, attacking two of the three Mafia men with determination to kill.
Taylor: {1, 5} x Machinist(x1.25) x Versatility(CH1/4, {2, 1}, Failed, Failed, x1) = {1.25... 1, 6.25... 6} = [B]7 DMG Spread Across Two Enemies[/B]
Unfortunately, they both dodged out of the way of serious harm, with one barely being touched while the other was only clipped by the shot. This gave them time to retaliate.
Hitmen 10 and 11: {1, 4} x Territory(x3) = {3, 12} = 15
Taylor: DEF Rolls = {5, 2} = 7
[B]8 DMG[/B]
Taylor HP: 66/100
Taylor's armor did most of the work, keeping the wounds to a minimum. The pain inflicted by the numerous deflections was fairly intense, however. A moment later, Maddox entered the bar and provided support, attacking one of the two gunmen just as he ran out of ammo while Yanim took on the other. Dio sprinted past in a manic fashion, eyes on the third Mafioso who was temporarily distracted by Sledge's antics.
Maddox: [B]7[/B] x Machinist(x1.25) = 8.75... [B]9 DMG[/B]
Mad pulled the trigger once, blasting the hitman through his stomach and eviscerating him.
[B]Enemy Eliminated.[/B]
Yanim: [B]10[/B] x 1.25 x (No Feat Applicable) = 12.5... [B]13 DMG[/B]
Before the previous body could even hit the ground, Yanim created another corpse by sending a bullet into the chin and through the neck of the next Mafioso in line, blowing his entire jaw off and severing his spinal cord.
[B]Enemy Eliminated.[/B]
Dio:
CH Estimate: 1/3 x 3 = 1/1 (Impaler)
Roll Passed.
[B]9[/B] x 1.25 x Impaler(x2) = 22.5... [B]23 DMG[/B]
Hurling his knife mid-sprint, Dio tagged his opponent in the eye, driving the blade deep into the skull and killing him instantly. He died silently.
[B]Enemy Eliminated.[/B]
Markus: [I]Attack Invalidated[/I]
The others entered the building one by one, to find that the fight had just ended in a dramatic triple kill. The groans of the last few living men were quickly silenced as Yanim, Taylor, and anyone else with the guts to do so walked the room quietly and executed the survivors.
When she had finished, Yanim looked up at Frosty. "I heard what you said on the comms, about the other cars. You did well. I salute you." Of course, she didn't [I]literally[/I] salute, but Frosty could detect the sincerity in her voice. Turning to Sledge, who had dropped the body he had used as a puppet moments earlier, she glared. "The fuck are you even doing?" she said.
[quote]What was he doing?[/quote]
The voice was Rask's, who, along with Neasha, had stayed behind to guard the ship while the more disposable crewmembers threw themselves into battle.
"He was... handling a dead body, and making it spout nonsense..."
[quote]Kamha? [I](Come again?)[/I][/quote]
The crew proceeded to return Porter's body to the Muramasa via Frosty's fighter jet and to escape into the maintenance tunnel within the hotel. The battle was won, but the notion of victory was a weak one so long as one of their own was in a state of unresponsiveness. He was turned over to Abrax and the medbay, where he would be experimented upon in an effort to restore life.
The day was over. One more day on Prospera awaited them before they would be leaving again. It was grueling work, and much would need to be talked about and reviewed at the proper time. But for the moment, everyone was exhausted. Yanim, holding a wet cloth against her exposed eye to prevent it from becoming irritated, spoke in matter-of-fact terms. "We're going back to the ship to rest. Tomorrow, we might be ambushed again. Be on your guard when we leave the ship; what happened to Porter could happen to anyone."
Her lack of expression concealed a very painful state of mind. She saw a bit of Virin in Porter's bravery.
---
"The Bloodrunners?" Donatello repeated, incredulous.
"That's what they're telling me. They say there's graffiti all over. The corpses were decimated as well," Franco said, shaking his head in disgust. "The man we had on site told us to send a dozen to fight less than a dozen. But everyone who witnessed the battle was killed. We don't even have the footage-"
"Since when do we rely on machines to tell us what we need to know?" His father snapped. "There must have been far more than a dozen. They killed everyone we sent at them. They had air support, for fuck's sake!"
"Father, I don't know! I only know what they told me!" Franco cowered, and Donatello instantly remembered raising his hand against this boy more than once when he was a small child. Suddenly remembering the loss of his grandfather and the sense of hopelessness, he apologized.
"I'm sorry, Franco, I'm sorry. I'm not well right now," he tried to explain. He reached out to hug the young man but he seemed just too far away.
"What are we going to do now?" Franco croaked after avoiding his father's embrace.
"I'm going to bed," Donatello replied, sullenly. He hated himself.
---
Gionata stood in the street outside of his mother's villa in the outskirts of Port Town, if you could call them that. It was sometimes hard to determine where one city ended and another began on this crowded rock. His eyes were fixated on the distant glow of downtown, which polluted the sky above and hid the stars from his view. His surname was Traversi, his mother's maiden name, but to his friends and followers, he was Silvestriano's boy. He had gone away with his mother when the family split, into the protection of his uncle's home during Donatello's more violent years. Jon had shaped his grandson into a true Mafioso, but had failed to teach him how to be the husband and father that Gio and three of his siblings could love or respect. It took the defiant courage of his uncle Lorenzo and the intervention of great grandfather Jon to grant his mother freedom from the living hell of her marriage.
He had never forgiven his father, and, looking out at the skyline, he wondered if the bastard had the nerve to cry for the man's loss when he had never shed a tear during the divorce. Gio was the firstborn, he was the heir that Donatello claimed he wanted, but could never control himself from slapping or screaming at. There was a great test coming, for his father, and for himself. The first would determine whether the Mafia could transition power securely to its heir, or if there would be room for reevaluation. The second would determine whether Gio was prepared to do what his grandfather had failed to do a decade before his own birth. No sane man would challenge Donatello directly, but Gio was ready to abandon his wits and do what his soul demanded of him. This was a question of honor, for his mother, his grandfather, and his siblings, all except for the boot-licker, little Marco, the whelp.
But Gio couldn't do it alone. There were all sorts of nasty friends he could make down at the port, but all of them had some kind of connection to his father's regime. Gio would need to find a group without loyalty to anyone. Luckily for him, social media was blowing up about some kind of shootout at Hotel Prospera. Dozens of his father's men were killed, but the perpetrators were unknown. Security was hacked, all the bodies were recovered... gang graffiti adorned the scene, but Gio was skeptical. Rival gangs had always harangued the family's operations, but had never gone to all-out war like this. And even in the few cases they had fought, never had the gangs been so thorough, so ruthless, and so careful to cover their tracks. Gio pulled out his phone and made a call to a friend who worked at the port...
((My next post will move us to January 13th and give us a mission update. Way to go everyone, and thanks for your patience.))
[QUOTE=Sega Saturn;50147096]"The fuck are you even doing?" she said.
[/QUOTE]
"Hey," Sledge said, defiantly. "I made my bit and I stand by it. Singing-Corpse Giuseppe is pure comedy gold and you know it. S'alright?" He nudged the corpse's head with his foot to make it nod. "[i]S'alright,[/i]" Giuseppe replied.
Abraxas studied the new patient shortly after. Seeing the fractured remains of the incapacitated Porter once the away team took the time to leave him at the Medbay. Abrax gave a short sigh and set up the operating table, sanitizing the sheets and radius before making any attempts. Potions were one thing but full on emergency surgery was on another level. He prepared the tools on a nearby circular table and hooked Porter up to a IV.
Hariim finishes covering his tracks through the networks he accessed, and closes down all the processes he's been running on the Muramasa's computers. He takes his leave, and gets an ice pack down in the mess hall. He holds the pack against his aching skull and takes it easy in the mess hall for a while.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Bucky in the meantime, has been busy taking a shower and sterilizing her hands of mafioso blood. She slips into a comfy shirt, hoodie, and shorts, and chills out in her quarters with some holo-games.
"Augh, fuck." muttered Taylor, limping along as they traveled back to the ship. Valkyrie strolled along behind her, smiling. Taylor glanced back, and grunted. She's enjoying this. Seeing her in pain. She shook her head, then looked back ahead. She wondered how bad the damage was to her back and leg. How much blood had been lost during the fighting?
She felt around at the spot where the bullet had connected with her back. Eh, not that big of a tear in the suit. It can be repaired. She pulled her hand back around and looked at it. Blood on the fingers. Yeah. She was bleeding, but not that much. Someone would have to get the bullet out, and patch her up. Same with her leg.
As if reading her mind, Valkyrie spoke up. "I could get the bullets out for you." she said, stepping up beside Taylor with a wide grin. Taylor merely shook her head. "Fuck off." she stated, bluntly, as she limped a little faster. "Aww..." said Valkyrie, with a faint chuckle. They boarded as soon as they arrived, and went their separate ways. Taylor to the cargo bay to get her armor off, and Valkyrie to her room to relax.
Shedding her armor was rather painful, as she had to ease both the chest piece off as well as the leg piece that covered her wound. Once it was off, she proceeded to doctor her wounds as best she could. Which was basically digging the bullets out with a pair of pliers from a took kit, and pulled out some biofoam canisters from a small emergency field kit that was attached to her suits belt. She'd have to refill those, but the biofoam would seal the wounds nicely till the resident medic Abraxas could actually patch her up himself. It would probably be a while, though, due to Porter. She paused as she thought about his heroism, and how she had hesitated after he had been gunned down. She should have been right there next to him, supporting her comrade. She injected the biofoam into both wounds, groaning in pain. Burning...stinging...and finally numbness. She applied a simple patch bandage over both, then tossed the empty biofoam canisters into the trash nearby.
She needed a drink. She stood, wiping sweat from her forehead before limping down to the bar of the ship.
Hariim looks up and gives Taylor a half-assed wave before resting his head down on the bar and shifting the ice pack on his head. "Hoi, there."
[QUOTE]Hariim looks up and gives Taylor a half-assed wave before resting his head down on the bar and shifting the ice pack on his head. "Hoi, there."[/QUOTE]
Taylor looks over, and waves back before walking over and sitting next to him. "Damn fine job on the cameras and such." she said, patting him on the shoulder.
Amy had moved from her position and followed the crew down the tunnel. She walked at a fast pace untill she found her brother. "Hey big bear!" she exclaimed as she went for a hug. Something that she hasn't done since they were kids back at the Creed's training camp.
Alex was hesitant at first, because the last thing he expected on this trip was his sister showing up. Not to mention that she was covered head to toe with what looked like mercenary armor. But even so, he embraced her in a hug only a brother could give. "You and me have a lot to catch up to, huh little fox." he let go and both of them continued to walk down the tunnel. Alex broke the silence between them. "Ok, let's get it out of the way. Why did't you tell me?"
Amy sighed. "Now? Fine. You told me to stay in one place and settle in into a boring life. That's not what I wanted. And you were not exactly nearby. It's not like I wanted to join the Sisters, but..."
"The one who recruited you was really cute wasn't she?" Amy and Alex chuckeled. "I'm not mad that you did what you did. But I am rather peeved that you thought you should lie to me."
"Saying sorry wont just fix thing, will it?"
"No, but you helping out might. Telling you to go back home is probably pointless, so you have to pull your own weight around the crew. I believe you can do it, but I'm not the one you have to convince." After a few short minutes they were back on the ship. "I'm going to treat these wounds and go to bed. If people are hungry, there are pleanty of leftovers in the mess hall. I'm not gonna get blood on the food." He said and went to his quarters.
Amy waved her brother as he left and went to the armory.
Maddox walked into the armory and dumped his weapon and equipment on the table. Yanim had already returned the rifle she had temporarily borrowed. He nodded with a satisfied smile as he observed the prototype, it had worked just as intended during the fight.
With the equipment on the table, Maddox [url=https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/71236376/Starpath%20RP/Maddox%20Graves%20No%20Armor.png]took off his helmet[/url] and placed it on the table.
He then slowly began to take off his armor, revealing a SDF Auxiliary battledress uniform in a navy blue color.
On the right side of his chest was a patch with the text "M. Graves" in white letters while the left side of his chest had a similar patch with the text "SDF Aux. Novithus".
He sat down and opened up the uniform jacket, a small wound was present on the lower part of his torso.
Maddox had just grabbed a NewGen MediScan when Amy walked in. He nodded. "Nice shooting out there."
-----
Vakarus nodded as Yanim entered the bridge. "Welcome back Yanim'atvan, the return of the warhost had been awaited. Are you well?"
"Thanks. You did good out there yourself. Although, shoudn't you be seeing the medic after those few hits you took?" Amy said as she walked over to the free table. She took off the visor from her head and placed it right next to her riffle. She started to take off her gloves.
Maddox nodded as he scanned the wound. "Thanks. As for this-" he pointed at the wound "- I wouldn't worry too much, I've seen and had worse."
Using the MediScan he sealed up the wound with the latest generation of medical nanites. It was a small dose and they'd break down naturally after healing the wound.
He stood up and zipped up his uniform jacket. Maddox then walked up to the table where Amy stood. "How was the reunion?"
"He's happy to see me. And that I'm going to be 'safe'. But he's not really happy that I wasn't completely honest with him for the past few years." She said as she looked at the sniper. She looked back at Maddox. "Can't really blame him."
Maddox nodded while inspecting Amy's gear. "I'm sure he'll understand, plus he's your brother. Families stick together."
Once Owen returned to the ship with the others, he headed back to the bar. He mainly wanted to relax a little before the race. As he was decompressing, Owen noted the conversation between Taylor and Hariim. "I wasn't much use down there, as far as I can see, it was fists vs bullets. Doesn't take a genius to figure out which one I'd bet on." Owen considered what he wanted to drink, but did he really want to take a chance with all of his botched orders? Of course he did. "Alright, I'll take a root beer."
"Like I told the alien guy, Vakarian, Vakarus?...Oh I'm so bad with names. Like I told him, me and Alex are the only ones worth a damn in our family." she looked at her wrist, the tattoo there clearly visible. "Our dear old man left this ugly brand on both of us and a whole lot of bad memories to go with it."
"I noticed, before you arrived a Creed team tried to extract Alex by sending a message under your name." Maddox walked up to the table where his own equipment and gear were located.
"Forgive for asking, but neither of you have never spoken about your mother. Did something happen to her?"
Frosty, after changing into his old outfit and cleaning up the smell of a dead Porter in his craft, climbed down and entered the mess hall.
He sat at a table all by himself, twiddling with his thumbs as he contemplated his past more.
Sledge boarded the ship and headed straight back to his bedroom. His wounds had healed on the trip back, and the nanites were happily dissolving the embedded bullets and using the metal to replenish their numbers. All Sledge needed was a shower to get all the sweat, blood, flotsam and jetsam off his body. Thankfully he'd ordered some extra sets of clothes and had them delivered. Someone was nice enough to receive the package and drop it outside his door. A new jacket, shirt, jeans, undies, and even boots awaited him. Once suited up, Sledge threw his bloody clothes into what he hoped was a laundry chute and headed to the mess hall for some grub. Beating several guys to death and manhandling a dead mook makes a body powerful hungry.
"Alex!" he shouted as he entered, "What's on the menu, my good man?"
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