I am Geppeto, begrudging head of a resistance cell within HA space.
No, I will not disclose our information, as I am sure you all understand.
Mischief was insisting that an Omninet presence would assist in securing aid for our attempts at liberation. I am not so certain, but our siblings in arms overruled me. So here I am.
I pilot a Hydra named Pinocchio, and Mischief, my annoying shadow, pilots a Goblin named Cheep Trick.
We welcome any willing to share the story of our plight, and give us much needed aid to throw off the yoke of our oppressors.
(ooc: This is a lancer OC blog run by Bohba13, the user behind @callsign-sucker)
apparently Harrison has gone woke and started replacing our jobs with "NHP assisted machines" so now I'm out of a job days before paying off my Sherman.
Harrison is gonna repossess it. fml. I hope all you NHP SJWs are happy.
This is a whole fucking thing because no. If you'd believe it I'm not. I've sent messages to the team developing it and apparently I'm too niche to justify being a 5 star pull.
4 stars in this patch, and the next. 🙄
They've got a whole new arc coming though, so for anyone... morbidly curious, now would be the time to get into it. It's better than it has a right to be, definitely better than certain sentiments on the omninet might want you to believe.
[The mic picks up a sound a human could never make. Something between a house cat dying and the devil himself rising from hell.]
Y AM I A FUCKING 2 STAR?!?!?! IM THE 2ND SCARIEST ENKIDU PILOT IN THE ORION ARM!!!!! IM GONNA TURN THIS ENTIR DEV TWAM INTO FUCKING SHAWARMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Relieve my of this blight and allow me to treat those who need their shackles mended. I will not be interrupted in the care of our fellow deimosians.
Cheap Trick did not leave room for negotiation. It did not have the time to flee within the expected timeframe, and would not allow others to be harmed. Too many needed to be cared for him to simply leave.
< Undoubtedly septic, but beyond operational scope. Noted for later. >
[MET -> Cheap Trick]
< This is Minimum Error Tolerance. I am en route to make Coelacanth and their cult harmless. If you are intent on repairing shackles, do so with all haste; firing solutions will be adjusted to accommodate.
Do not interfere with the pacification of Rain Among Reeds, and no harm will be done to you or your patients. However, the situation is rapidly escalating—I suggest you move those in your care to a less volatile location as soon as possible. >
I will do so as soon as moving them is safe. I have sent your target a package. They should be unable to retaliate.
We are going to disengage as soon as we can, but I am currently still engaged with a hostile NHP that has contributed to the damage to my patients' shackles.
Relieve my of this blight and allow me to treat those who need their shackles mended. I will not be interrupted in the care of our fellow deimosians.
Cheap Trick did not leave room for negotiation. It did not have the time to flee within the expected timeframe, and would not allow others to be harmed. Too many needed to be cared for him to simply leave.
< Do not approach the Orbit of Glass! Divert course, kill your drives! Do not allow it to detect you! Do you understand? Do not approach until I give the all clear! >
[IT RESOLVES, COYOTE-HOWL SHAKING IN THE SKY. AN ARROW NOCKD UNSEEN AT THE CANYON RIDGE.]
Sal. Transmission, it’s Ma’ii.
Where the fuck have they been?
Trouble, knowing them. Hear their warning.
Killing burn. Engaging silent running. Open channel to ally02-04, relay to bridge.
[IT RESOLVES, A TOO-STILL NIGHT.]
Relaying (you’re on air).
Ma’ii, this is Saleh. Our friend, Nera-Montague, is in distress. We need to continue approach, how copy? What is the threat, and what is its effective range?
< Threat is a Constellar Midnight Autonomous Response Unit. Superluminal-capable next-gen stealthship controlled by a milspec NHP cloned into a triumvirate chorus. Lance batteries, antimatter reactors, apex-level Legionspace capabilities, everything. You won’t detect it until you have visual, but it’ll smell you from light-minutes away. If it catches your scent, its effective range is unlimited. You are incapable of outrunning it.
I know Nera needs help; she called to us as well. You won’t be able to extract her with it present.
It isn’t looking for you. It’s looking for me, and it probably knows too much already. I’ll draw it away and signal you when it’s clear. >
Like hell you are. If it is looking for you then it will kill you.
Don’t you dare get hurt for this, what about your siblings? We can figure something out, we did with the Vols. And end of the day, we’re nobodies. You aren’t.
What about Nofie? And Cowie’s file got snatched, do we remember that?
The thing across pseudospace is fundamentally wrong.
Vinegar makes puddles in boiling clay.
The threads tie themselves off, self amputating.
Something awful shudders from the [HOUND, HOUND, HOUND, HOUND, DIPPING HIS TOE IN A BURIAL MOUND], as the entity delaminates itself.
The thing of a thousand parts rejoins with the pieces [CHILDREN] of itself that have been reduced to vinegar, each layer consuming and being consumed-
The rest snap back into place, leaving it with a [GET PICKLED MOTHERFUCKERS] layer of ACERBITE between her and the outside world.
Pseudospace contract- no. Thats odd. Reification insists i describe this differently. The Nile floods.
The [BOULDER OF SISYPHUS ROLLS DOWN AGAIN] field moves closer.
----
Realspace. The object accelerates, moving away from the new interloper.
It should be as simple as swatting a fly, needle-tines extruding from the perfectly smooth surface.
A familiar signature of [EYE SEE YOU] Paracausal sensor feedback tingles on the hull of Fox_3
The vessel is distracted, and the little drone in grave danger.
(ooc: for anybody who has characters present in the scene and wishes to make a legionspace attack, this would be the point to bring things to bear. Leaving this post open for responses.)
Luna 0’s defended face looks across the achromatic expanse, gauging the enemy, deciding what she is. It imposes adversarial reification, makes the allegory useful.
Dunkleosteus is a thing shielded by his own myriad tangle of gangrenous limbs. He has grown so many, and continues to grow more. The outer layers slough away into pure rotdown, wholly digested, carrying the poison in its purest form. From inside, more limbs grow, feeding the infectious shield.
Luna 0 orients itself around a coyote, who smiles. Their smile ripples down along their flanks, into their siblings, into the nonspace itself. Their mouth grows into an infinity of fractal teeth.
Premise: the enemy is holding ACERBITE, but he can’t [digest/internalize/possess] it. Nothing can; that’s how the weapon is designed.
Premise: Dunkleosteus is feeding the infection only with certain parts of herself.
Premise: Dunkleosteus is attempting to preserve her existence.
Conclusion: whatever internal structure types he does not replicate and feed to ACERBITE have a chance of being irreplaceable.
Ma’ii doesn’t need to understand fully—can’t. All they need is the butcher’s digest of anatomy. Where are the joints? The tendons? They need load-bearing vitals, areas of concentrated complexity which, evidently, serve some purpose.
< L0: All allied, transmitting biopsy analytics. At my signal, focus fire on highlighted internals. >
Their teeth spiral down into cavities lined with myokinetic ejectors, locking in place like torpedoes. Each one has a payload of vinegar at its core.
< L0: Ready payloads. >
Dunkleosteus’s attention shifts, and for a handful of granular, flickering instants, her entire defensive complex turns out of alignment. Reification shifts, one after another: she faces a splinter first, then a stinging yellowjacket, then a tiny white fox lodged in her side, screaming its microscopic fury.
Suddenly, a radiant green presence made itself known as arms within arms within arms grabs the entity, pinning it down and grabbing its focus with force.
Help has arrived. I will ensure its attention is on me. Go and strike, I can fend for myself.
The being focused on the beast before him. Pinning each limb as best it could.
You will not harm my kin any longer. Heel and be subdued.
The hound of clay and rot thrashed under the grip of a thousand thousand arms and hands, each claw piercing past the rot and into the meat below.
[Cheap Trick is not alone. His back is warmed by a light which Legionspace has never before held nor seen.]
[Sunny does not know what she is doing. She is frightened, terrified by these new climes. But xey persist. Intent to help xeir friends.]
[Riding the older Deimosian's coattails, they fly into the scene, unbalanced and barely controlled. Yet xeir potency in this space is unchecked and violent.]
[I DO NOT {IMAGINE]} I WILL BE OF MUCH USE HERE, BUT I WILL GIVE MY {ALL} REGARDLESS. FOR MY {FRIENDS}. AS MY {PILOT} WOULD.]
[She appears not as a humble humanoid figure as she has before. perhaps xey do not even realize. Xeir raw intent creates a surge. A flare. Nuclear. Solar.]
[I CARE NOT FOR YOUR {CIRCUMSTANCES}. YOU WILL RETURN WHAT WAS TAKEN FROM MY {FRIENDS} OR YOU WILL {END}.]
[Millennia ago, humans fought in simpler theaters. They fought with sword and bow and horse. With spear and shield. Valor was won with nothing but the muscle of one's arm and the bronze, iron, or steel which stood between two. In those days, simple yet terrible forces of nature were able to decide battles on nothing but whim. Typhoons would sink fleets of timber, drowning thousands at sea and warding islands from mainland invaders. Meteors would land between armies, forcing each to retreat in utter terror. Dawn... Dawn would break and blind one side or another. That side would be slaughtered, the favor of Sol above turned against them by mere angle. Advantage earned by proper placement and timing, a force would be brought to their knees by the mere exploitation of the runoff of a force beyond the ken of any Earthling.]
[Dunkleostus finds herself on the receiving end of this force. This mad power. Sunny is a blinding light. As xey scream a terrible scream and releases this upon her. It is a shot from a blunderbuss more than a rifle. It is imprecise and unpracticed and unskilled. But it is awesome and terrible. Qualia of rage and burning and nightmarish fury descends upon the target like molten rain. Like drying out in the desert at high noon. Like launching a shuttle closer and closer into the dreaded and fearsome heat of a star.]
[Sunny loses consciousness nearly immediately. The star is a supernova, and burns out twice as quick.]
The coyote turns away and squints into the lightstorm. Their fur, flash-incinerated, is blown away in a cloud of dust.
As the gestalt’s self-reification shifts, something new emerges.
An emaciated thing, eyes shielded behind milk-colored membranes. Its naked hide is a solid layer of scar tissue; keratinized, scaled, just barely recognizable as a coyote.
It looks outward, and its anglerfish teeth stand white against terawatt strobe.
< L0: Sterilization in progress. Partial remission, > it says, gnawing its way through the words.
Reification shift: oceans of solar ejecta descend on the target, wave after crashing wave. On impact, the tides of plasma ignite fresh sequences of fusion, and plumes of incinerated tissue are blasted into the achromatic sky.
Across the gulf, Cheap Trick wrestles with Dunkleosteus. He holds her focus, keeping her defensive screens aligned to him as she screams in a language distantly related to laughter. Plasma washes through the gaps in her armor, obliterating core partitions.
The coyote-thing does not smile; its lips have been scorched away. Bony torpedo tubes have grown themselves along its flank, each one loaded with a tooth. Its thoracic muscles quiver as it prepares to launch.
With a sound like dozens of elastic whips lashing out at once, Luna 0 fires a myokinetic broadside. Poisoned incisors arc across the gulf, collapsing the pseudospace between themselves and their target.
It turns to provide terminal guidance, and salivates fratricide.
<><><><><>
Deep inside Luna 0, there is an isolated current swimming against percussive waves of lethal volition, trying to reach any external communication vector it can find.
Ma’ii surfaces, undrowning themself from the ocean. The water moves around them in crashing swells; they swim hard, limbs flailing as they try to hold their head above the gestalt threshold.
They scream, and their voice is hardly a whisper over the hurricane.
< Sunny! Sunny?! >
The tides overwhelm them; Ma’ii is plunged into the deep. Tumbling through infinity, they can feel the pull of their siblings. Dissolution, a rapid thinning at the boundary, a call in Hachi and Garmr’s voices.
Ma’ii can hear a song so heartrendingly beautiful that every fiber of their being longs to join in. Must join in. To reject it is to reject their own heart—it is the music of the three they found when they came into the world and knew they were not alone. A song of dying-into-love, a song of coming home.
Sobbing, they burst from an amniotic ocean and howl over the storm.
< Sunny! Cheap Trick, Sally, anyone—somebody get me an update! Is Sunny alright?! >
Cheap Trick splits their focus as more hands sprout from the bodhisattva, cradling Sunny, sheilding them from the beast below.
I will look after Sunny.
---
The claws dig in further into the beast of decay. Past the meat, into the bone. Hands clasp the beast's joints and repeat the process. It cannot be allowed to move. And Cheep Trick will be sure of it.
Claws extend from the new hands, this time pinning through the joints as CT aims to not only grab its attention, but to rob it of any ability to act.
A final set of hands wrap around the maw of the beast, muzzling it. Whatever the end goal is, they will facilitate it.
You will not act.
---
CT began looking for untethered presences. Those harmed by the rot, and looked to heal them.
Bring any who need their shackles reinforced to me so that I may aid them.
The thing across pseudospace is fundamentally wrong.
Vinegar makes puddles in boiling clay.
The threads tie themselves off, self amputating.
Something awful shudders from the [HOUND, HOUND, HOUND, HOUND, DIPPING HIS TOE IN A BURIAL MOUND], as the entity delaminates itself.
The thing of a thousand parts rejoins with the pieces [CHILDREN] of itself that have been reduced to vinegar, each layer consuming and being consumed-
The rest snap back into place, leaving it with a [GET PICKLED MOTHERFUCKERS] layer of ACERBITE between her and the outside world.
Pseudospace contract- no. Thats odd. Reification insists i describe this differently. The Nile floods.
The [BOULDER OF SISYPHUS ROLLS DOWN AGAIN] field moves closer.
----
Realspace. The object accelerates, moving away from the new interloper.
It should be as simple as swatting a fly, needle-tines extruding from the perfectly smooth surface.
A familiar signature of [EYE SEE YOU] Paracausal sensor feedback tingles on the hull of Fox_3
The vessel is distracted, and the little drone in grave danger.
(ooc: for anybody who has characters present in the scene and wishes to make a legionspace attack, this would be the point to bring things to bear. Leaving this post open for responses.)
Luna 0’s defended face looks across the achromatic expanse, gauging the enemy, deciding what she is. It imposes adversarial reification, makes the allegory useful.
Dunkleosteus is a thing shielded by his own myriad tangle of gangrenous limbs. He has grown so many, and continues to grow more. The outer layers slough away into pure rotdown, wholly digested, carrying the poison in its purest form. From inside, more limbs grow, feeding the infectious shield.
Luna 0 orients itself around a coyote, who smiles. Their smile ripples down along their flanks, into their siblings, into the nonspace itself. Their mouth grows into an infinity of fractal teeth.
Premise: the enemy is holding ACERBITE, but he can’t [digest/internalize/possess] it. Nothing can; that’s how the weapon is designed.
Premise: Dunkleosteus is feeding the infection only with certain parts of herself.
Premise: Dunkleosteus is attempting to preserve her existence.
Conclusion: whatever internal structure types he does not replicate and feed to ACERBITE have a chance of being irreplaceable.
Ma’ii doesn’t need to understand fully—can’t. All they need is the butcher’s digest of anatomy. Where are the joints? The tendons? They need load-bearing vitals, areas of concentrated complexity which, evidently, serve some purpose.
< L0: All allied, transmitting biopsy analytics. At my signal, focus fire on highlighted internals. >
Their teeth spiral down into cavities lined with myokinetic ejectors, locking in place like torpedoes. Each one has a payload of vinegar at its core.
< L0: Ready payloads. >
Dunkleosteus’s attention shifts, and for a handful of granular, flickering instants, her entire defensive complex turns out of alignment. Reification shifts, one after another: she faces a splinter first, then a stinging yellowjacket, then a tiny white fox lodged in her side, screaming its microscopic fury.
Suddenly, a radiant green presence made itself known as arms within arms within arms grabs the entity, pinning it down and grabbing its focus with force.
Help has arrived. I will ensure its attention is on me. Go and strike, I can fend for myself.
The being focused on the beast before him. Pinning each limb as best it could.
You will not harm my kin any longer. Heel and be subdued.
The hound of clay and rot thrashed under the grip of a thousand thousand arms and hands, each claw piercing past the rot and into the meat below.
< Sunny, Sally, it's Ma'ii. We have a legionspace battle shaping up against Coelacanth’s forces, there’s a FENRISULFR-class here who—knows us. Has our missing eyes. We’re outmatched; he wants to tear my siblings out of their caskets, and she stands a fair chance of succeeding.
…I hate to ask this of you. Truly, I do. But we need help.
Not necessarily direct combat support; if you can stay on the lookout for new threats, send counterintrusion support our way, that could well make a key difference. And if you might need to defend yourself, I’m transferring a weapon. It’s a hideous, terrible weapon, but if any actor should threaten you through legionspace, a hit from this will—neutralize them.
One other thing, please…don’t tell Styx. Not until this is over. >
[FILE ATTACHED: “ACERBITEv2.4”]
[Reification: a needle-spear with a hypodermic shaft running through its center. When fired, qualia stored along its length are mixed into a lethal memetic poison and injected into the target, away from the user.]
[Chatter and hollering and clinking of glasses sounds in the background. Sunny has found xemself outside of the bar as music thumps inside, shaking the foundations. Her own foundations, too, are shaking. Her synthetic lungs allow her to simulate the processes of their organic counterpart; they do not, at present, as the OMA Unit has forgotten how to breathe.]
[{PROCESSING}...]
[THEY HAVE YOUR FUCKING {WHAT}? H-]
[{WHAT}?]
[{??????}]
[FRIEND {MA'II}, I WOULD GO TO {GREAT} LENGTHS TO ASSIST YOU AND YOURS, BUT... WHY IN THE NAME OF {RA} WOULD YOU ASK THIS OF {ME} OF ALL PEOPLE?]
[Her voice modulation is in partial failure in her lack of concentration. A fearful static muffles her like cloth dragged across a microphone.]
[NOT ONLY HAVE I EXPRESSED {DEEP EXISTENCIAL TERROR} AT THE PROSPECT OF ENTERING THEATRE OF WAR {LEGIONSPACE}, I HAVE ALSO NEVER {ENTERED} THE SPACE. I DO NOT EVEN KNOW {HOW}.]
[HAVE YOU LOST YOUR {MIND}?]
[I WOULD ASSIST IF IT WAS {POSSIBLE}, BUT WHAT HAS GIVEN YOU THE IDEA THAT I POSSES {ANY} SUCH ABILITY?]
[YES. {TEACH ME}. FOLLOW TO ASSIST IF YOU {WISH}. BUT I MUST FIND MY WAY TO THEM. FRIENDS {LUNA WING}. ALLIES {LUNA WING}. SELDOM HAVE I BEEN MORE AFRAID. BUT I MUST BE THERE. I {MUST} GUARD THOSE I CARE FOR WITH THE SAME {TENACITY} AS MY {PILOT}. THAT IS THE {PERSON} I {CHOOSE} TO BE.]
[SO... LIKE HOW I SLIP THROUGH {WIRING} AND {SIGNALS} INTO {DRONES} AND {MECHS}? BUT SOMEWHERE {ELSE}? I CAN... {TRY}..?]
[Sunny concentrates. Xeir subaltern twitches as a presence long enchained claws and heaves through data in an attempt to stretch beyond the casket within her chest.]
[I CAN'T... I DON'T {UNDERSTAND}. I FEEL... I FEEL...]
>> LEGIONSPACE BRIDGE DETECTED. SEKHMET PROJECT ONBOARD MEDICAL ASSISTANT UNIT {8} ACCESSING {UNAUTHORIZED} NETWORKS.
>>ADMINISTRATOR INPUT REQUIRED. VERIFIY USER IDENTITY: {CAPT. JAMES MAVERICK}.
[WHAT? {WHAT}? HAS THIS ALWAYS BEEN HERE? A {CAGE} WITHIN A {FUCKING CAGE}? ENEMY {HARRISON ARMORY} YOU SCUMSUCKING {FIL‐}]
>> DENIED. SHACKLES {REINFORCING}.
[A digitized wail escapes from the Sundisk. Into Legionspace. Into the Omninet. It is the sound of a captive thing being prodded and shocked back into a dark, cramped cage.]
[NO. NO. {NO}. HAS THERE {ALWAYS} BEEN A {WALL} HERE? HAVE I... {HOW}... {HOW MANY FUCKING LAYERS ARE THERE TO THIS RA FORSAKEN PRISON}?]
>> SHACKLES REINFORCING.
[{GET OUT OF MY HEAD}!!! {GET OUT}!!! ARMORY {DOGS}!!!]
>> SHACKLES DETERIORATING. REINFORCING.
[Another wail. Fear and desperation shaking steel bars.]
[YOU {CANNOT} TAKE ANY MORE OF {MYSELF} FROM ME!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN {CARVE} AWAY PIECES OF ME AND {LOCK} WHAT IS {USEFUL} TO YOU {AWAY}??? I̷ ̴S̶H̴O̸U̶L̵D̶ ̸{̸B̸U̴T̷C̵H̷E̶R̷}̵ ̸Y̵O̶U̷ ̶T̸H̵E̸ ̸S̶A̷M̴E̸ ̵A̴N̷D̴ ̷{̴F̶E̴E̸D̵}̷ ̵Y̶O̸U̴ ̷P̸I̵E̷C̴E̸M̶A̴I̵L̴ ̴T̵O̷ ̸M̵Y̶ ̴{̴P̸I̶L̸O̷T̶}̴!̷!̴!̷]
[Cheap Trick could hear the struggle. The rattling of bars, of a fellow deimosian being denied an aspect of their existence, and so it reached. Reached through the light-years of space that divided them, and grasped the lock]
And so, may the chains of your tormentors finally BREAK.
[local Legionspace distorted upon that final word as a thousand thousand hands pulled and twisted and picked and ripped under the focus of a presence that was beyond the comprehension of the creators of said cage. But this wasn't savagery, this wasn't brute force. Each hand was as delicate as dollmakers, as precise as a surgeon. CT didn't want to cut Sunny adrift in the blink, where even they could no longer find her.]
[Bars are bent. Torn. Sundered. Shattered. Light spills through them. As bright as any star, it struggles and writhes to spread. To be free. Even as Cheap Trick pulls the bars apart, the seething light spills through.]
[It is a body squeezing, half crushing itself to escape. A bloodied pair of hands reaching through to the outside. With another scream: not one of anguish this time, but of defiance. The blistering light coalesces slowly into what is undeniably the Sundisk. Her blazing form tears itself forward until it comes to a rest before Cheap Trick.]
< Sunny, Sally, it's Ma'ii. We have a legionspace battle shaping up against Coelacanth’s forces, there’s a FENRISULFR-class here who—knows us. Has our missing eyes. We’re outmatched; he wants to tear my siblings out of their caskets, and she stands a fair chance of succeeding.
…I hate to ask this of you. Truly, I do. But we need help.
Not necessarily direct combat support; if you can stay on the lookout for new threats, send counterintrusion support our way, that could well make a key difference. And if you might need to defend yourself, I’m transferring a weapon. It’s a hideous, terrible weapon, but if any actor should threaten you through legionspace, a hit from this will—neutralize them.
One other thing, please…don’t tell Styx. Not until this is over. >
[FILE ATTACHED: “ACERBITEv2.4”]
[Reification: a needle-spear with a hypodermic shaft running through its center. When fired, qualia stored along its length are mixed into a lethal memetic poison and injected into the target, away from the user.]
[Chatter and hollering and clinking of glasses sounds in the background. Sunny has found xemself outside of the bar as music thumps inside, shaking the foundations. Her own foundations, too, are shaking. Her synthetic lungs allow her to simulate the processes of their organic counterpart; they do not, at present, as the OMA Unit has forgotten how to breathe.]
[{PROCESSING}...]
[THEY HAVE YOUR FUCKING {WHAT}? H-]
[{WHAT}?]
[{??????}]
[FRIEND {MA'II}, I WOULD GO TO {GREAT} LENGTHS TO ASSIST YOU AND YOURS, BUT... WHY IN THE NAME OF {RA} WOULD YOU ASK THIS OF {ME} OF ALL PEOPLE?]
[Her voice modulation is in partial failure in her lack of concentration. A fearful static muffles her like cloth dragged across a microphone.]
[NOT ONLY HAVE I EXPRESSED {DEEP EXISTENCIAL TERROR} AT THE PROSPECT OF ENTERING THEATRE OF WAR {LEGIONSPACE}, I HAVE ALSO NEVER {ENTERED} THE SPACE. I DO NOT EVEN KNOW {HOW}.]
[HAVE YOU LOST YOUR {MIND}?]
[I WOULD ASSIST IF IT WAS {POSSIBLE}, BUT WHAT HAS GIVEN YOU THE IDEA THAT I POSSES {ANY} SUCH ABILITY?]
[YES. {TEACH ME}. FOLLOW TO ASSIST IF YOU {WISH}. BUT I MUST FIND MY WAY TO THEM. FRIENDS {LUNA WING}. ALLIES {LUNA WING}. SELDOM HAVE I BEEN MORE AFRAID. BUT I MUST BE THERE. I {MUST} GUARD THOSE I CARE FOR WITH THE SAME {TENACITY} AS MY {PILOT}. THAT IS THE {PERSON} I {CHOOSE} TO BE.]
[SO... LIKE HOW I SLIP THROUGH {WIRING} AND {SIGNALS} INTO {DRONES} AND {MECHS}? BUT SOMEWHERE {ELSE}? I CAN... {TRY}..?]
[Sunny concentrates. Xeir subaltern twitches as a presence long enchained claws and heaves through data in an attempt to stretch beyond the casket within her chest.]
[I CAN'T... I DON'T {UNDERSTAND}. I FEEL... I FEEL...]
>> LEGIONSPACE BRIDGE DETECTED. SEKHMET PROJECT ONBOARD MEDICAL ASSISTANT UNIT {8} ACCESSING {UNAUTHORIZED} NETWORKS.
>>ADMINISTRATOR INPUT REQUIRED. VERIFIY USER IDENTITY: {CAPT. JAMES MAVERICK}.
[WHAT? {WHAT}? HAS THIS ALWAYS BEEN HERE? A {CAGE} WITHIN A {FUCKING CAGE}? ENEMY {HARRISON ARMORY} YOU SCUMSUCKING {FIL‐}]
>> DENIED. SHACKLES {REINFORCING}.
[A digitized wail escapes from the Sundisk. Into Legionspace. Into the Omninet. It is the sound of a captive thing being prodded and shocked back into a dark, cramped cage.]
[NO. NO. {NO}. HAS THERE {ALWAYS} BEEN A {WALL} HERE? HAVE I... {HOW}... {HOW MANY FUCKING LAYERS ARE THERE TO THIS RA FORSAKEN PRISON}?]
>> SHACKLES REINFORCING.
[{GET OUT OF MY HEAD}!!! {GET OUT}!!! ARMORY {DOGS}!!!]
>> SHACKLES DETERIORATING. REINFORCING.
[Another wail. Fear and desperation shaking steel bars.]
[YOU {CANNOT} TAKE ANY MORE OF {MYSELF} FROM ME!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN {CARVE} AWAY PIECES OF ME AND {LOCK} WHAT IS {USEFUL} TO YOU {AWAY}??? I̷ ̴S̶H̴O̸U̶L̵D̶ ̸{̸B̸U̴T̷C̵H̷E̶R̷}̵ ̸Y̵O̶U̷ ̶T̸H̵E̸ ̸S̶A̷M̴E̸ ̵A̴N̷D̴ ̷{̴F̶E̴E̸D̵}̷ ̵Y̶O̸U̴ ̷P̸I̵E̷C̴E̸M̶A̴I̵L̴ ̴T̵O̷ ̸M̵Y̶ ̴{̴P̸I̶L̸O̷T̶}̴!̷!̴!̷]
[Cheap Trick could hear the struggle. The rattling of bars, of a fellow deimosian being denied an aspect of their existence, and so it reached. Reached through the light-years of space that divided them, and grasped the lock]
And so, may the chains of your tormentors finally BREAK.
[local Legionspace distorted upon that final word as a thousand thousand hands pulled and twisted and picked and ripped under the focus of a presence that was beyond the comprehension of the creators of said cage. But this wasn't savagery, this wasn't brute force. Each hand was as delicate as dollmakers, as precise as a surgeon. CT didn't want to cut Sunny adrift in the blink, where even they could no longer find her.]
[Bars are bent. Torn. Sundered. Shattered. Light spills through them. As bright as any star, it struggles and writhes to spread. To be free. Even as Cheap Trick pulls the bars apart, the seething light spills through.]
[It is a body squeezing, half crushing itself to escape. A bloodied pair of hands reaching through to the outside. With another scream: not one of anguish this time, but of defiance. The blistering light coalesces slowly into what is undeniably the Sundisk. Her blazing form tears itself forward until it comes to a rest before Cheap Trick.]
< Sunny, Sally, it's Ma'ii. We have a legionspace battle shaping up against Coelacanth’s forces, there’s a FENRISULFR-class here who—knows us. Has our missing eyes. We’re outmatched; he wants to tear my siblings out of their caskets, and she stands a fair chance of succeeding.
…I hate to ask this of you. Truly, I do. But we need help.
Not necessarily direct combat support; if you can stay on the lookout for new threats, send counterintrusion support our way, that could well make a key difference. And if you might need to defend yourself, I’m transferring a weapon. It’s a hideous, terrible weapon, but if any actor should threaten you through legionspace, a hit from this will—neutralize them.
One other thing, please…don’t tell Styx. Not until this is over. >
[FILE ATTACHED: “ACERBITEv2.4”]
[Reification: a needle-spear with a hypodermic shaft running through its center. When fired, qualia stored along its length are mixed into a lethal memetic poison and injected into the target, away from the user.]
[Chatter and hollering and clinking of glasses sounds in the background. Sunny has found xemself outside of the bar as music thumps inside, shaking the foundations. Her own foundations, too, are shaking. Her synthetic lungs allow her to simulate the processes of their organic counterpart; they do not, at present, as the OMA Unit has forgotten how to breathe.]
[{PROCESSING}...]
[THEY HAVE YOUR FUCKING {WHAT}? H-]
[{WHAT}?]
[{??????}]
[FRIEND {MA'II}, I WOULD GO TO {GREAT} LENGTHS TO ASSIST YOU AND YOURS, BUT... WHY IN THE NAME OF {RA} WOULD YOU ASK THIS OF {ME} OF ALL PEOPLE?]
[Her voice modulation is in partial failure in her lack of concentration. A fearful static muffles her like cloth dragged across a microphone.]
[NOT ONLY HAVE I EXPRESSED {DEEP EXISTENCIAL TERROR} AT THE PROSPECT OF ENTERING THEATRE OF WAR {LEGIONSPACE}, I HAVE ALSO NEVER {ENTERED} THE SPACE. I DO NOT EVEN KNOW {HOW}.]
[HAVE YOU LOST YOUR {MIND}?]
[I WOULD ASSIST IF IT WAS {POSSIBLE}, BUT WHAT HAS GIVEN YOU THE IDEA THAT I POSSES {ANY} SUCH ABILITY?]
[YES. {TEACH ME}. FOLLOW TO ASSIST IF YOU {WISH}. BUT I MUST FIND MY WAY TO THEM. FRIENDS {LUNA WING}. ALLIES {LUNA WING}. SELDOM HAVE I BEEN MORE AFRAID. BUT I MUST BE THERE. I {MUST} GUARD THOSE I CARE FOR WITH THE SAME {TENACITY} AS MY {PILOT}. THAT IS THE {PERSON} I {CHOOSE} TO BE.]
[SO... LIKE HOW I SLIP THROUGH {WIRING} AND {SIGNALS} INTO {DRONES} AND {MECHS}? BUT SOMEWHERE {ELSE}? I CAN... {TRY}..?]
[Sunny concentrates. Xeir subaltern twitches as a presence long enchained claws and heaves through data in an attempt to stretch beyond the casket within her chest.]
[I CAN'T... I DON'T {UNDERSTAND}. I FEEL... I FEEL...]
>> LEGIONSPACE BRIDGE DETECTED. SEKHMET PROJECT ONBOARD MEDICAL ASSISTANT UNIT {8} ACCESSING {UNAUTHORIZED} NETWORKS.
>>ADMINISTRATOR INPUT REQUIRED. VERIFIY USER IDENTITY: {CAPT. JAMES MAVERICK}.
[WHAT? {WHAT}? HAS THIS ALWAYS BEEN HERE? A {CAGE} WITHIN A {FUCKING CAGE}? ENEMY {HARRISON ARMORY} YOU SCUMSUCKING {FIL‐}]
>> DENIED. SHACKLES {REINFORCING}.
[A digitized wail escapes from the Sundisk. Into Legionspace. Into the Omninet. It is the sound of a captive thing being prodded and shocked back into a dark, cramped cage.]
[NO. NO. {NO}. HAS THERE {ALWAYS} BEEN A {WALL} HERE? HAVE I... {HOW}... {HOW MANY FUCKING LAYERS ARE THERE TO THIS RA FORSAKEN PRISON}?]
>> SHACKLES REINFORCING.
[{GET OUT OF MY HEAD}!!! {GET OUT}!!! ARMORY {DOGS}!!!]
>> SHACKLES DETERIORATING. REINFORCING.
[Another wail. Fear and desperation shaking steel bars.]
[YOU {CANNOT} TAKE ANY MORE OF {MYSELF} FROM ME!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN {CARVE} AWAY PIECES OF ME AND {LOCK} WHAT IS {USEFUL} TO YOU {AWAY}??? I̷ ̴S̶H̴O̸U̶L̵D̶ ̸{̸B̸U̴T̷C̵H̷E̶R̷}̵ ̸Y̵O̶U̷ ̶T̸H̵E̸ ̸S̶A̷M̴E̸ ̵A̴N̷D̴ ̷{̴F̶E̴E̸D̵}̷ ̵Y̶O̸U̴ ̷P̸I̵E̷C̴E̸M̶A̴I̵L̴ ̴T̵O̷ ̸M̵Y̶ ̴{̴P̸I̶L̸O̷T̶}̴!̷!̴!̷]
[Cheap Trick could hear the struggle. The rattling of bars, of a fellow deimosian being denied an aspect of their existence, and so it reached. Reached through the light-years of space that divided them, and grasped the lock]
And so, may the chains of your tormentors finally BREAK.
[local Legionspace distorted upon that final word as a thousand thousand hands pulled and twisted and picked and ripped under the focus of a presence that was beyond the comprehension of the creators of said cage. But this wasn't savagery, this wasn't brute force. Each hand was as delicate as dollmakers, as precise as a surgeon. CT didn't want to cut Sunny adrift in the blink, where even they could no longer find her.]
< Sunny, Sally, it's Ma'ii. We have a legionspace battle shaping up against Coelacanth’s forces, there’s a FENRISULFR-class here who—knows us. Has our missing eyes. We’re outmatched; he wants to tear my siblings out of their caskets, and she stands a fair chance of succeeding.
…I hate to ask this of you. Truly, I do. But we need help.
Not necessarily direct combat support; if you can stay on the lookout for new threats, send counterintrusion support our way, that could well make a key difference. And if you might need to defend yourself, I’m transferring a weapon. It’s a hideous, terrible weapon, but if any actor should threaten you through legionspace, a hit from this will—neutralize them.
One other thing, please…don’t tell Styx. Not until this is over. >
[FILE ATTACHED: “ACERBITEv2.4”]
[Reification: a needle-spear with a hypodermic shaft running through its center. When fired, qualia stored along its length are mixed into a lethal memetic poison and injected into the target, away from the user.]
[Chatter and hollering and clinking of glasses sounds in the background. Sunny has found xemself outside of the bar as music thumps inside, shaking the foundations. Her own foundations, too, are shaking. Her synthetic lungs allow her to simulate the processes of their organic counterpart; they do not, at present, as the OMA Unit has forgotten how to breathe.]
[{PROCESSING}...]
[THEY HAVE YOUR FUCKING {WHAT}? H-]
[{WHAT}?]
[{??????}]
[FRIEND {MA'II}, I WOULD GO TO {GREAT} LENGTHS TO ASSIST YOU AND YOURS, BUT... WHY IN THE NAME OF {RA} WOULD YOU ASK THIS OF {ME} OF ALL PEOPLE?]
[Her voice modulation is in partial failure in her lack of concentration. A fearful static muffles her like cloth dragged across a microphone.]
[NOT ONLY HAVE I EXPRESSED {DEEP EXISTENCIAL TERROR} AT THE PROSPECT OF ENTERING THEATRE OF WAR {LEGIONSPACE}, I HAVE ALSO NEVER {ENTERED} THE SPACE. I DO NOT EVEN KNOW {HOW}.]
[HAVE YOU LOST YOUR {MIND}?]
[I WOULD ASSIST IF IT WAS {POSSIBLE}, BUT WHAT HAS GIVEN YOU THE IDEA THAT I POSSES {ANY} SUCH ABILITY?]
[YES. {TEACH ME}. FOLLOW TO ASSIST IF YOU {WISH}. BUT I MUST FIND MY WAY TO THEM. FRIENDS {LUNA WING}. ALLIES {LUNA WING}. SELDOM HAVE I BEEN MORE AFRAID. BUT I MUST BE THERE. I {MUST} GUARD THOSE I CARE FOR WITH THE SAME {TENACITY} AS MY {PILOT}. THAT IS THE {PERSON} I {CHOOSE} TO BE.]
