AW [OPFOR BLUE] ENTER THE HYENAS'

[Universe]

Imported post - written by char​

The very skies burned red from the flames of an untold number of fires, entire cities burned with unquenchable flames. A wartorn landscape greets some, the burning of any number of the great cities for others. Some see horrible multi-armed metal monstrosities tearing apart men and women or soldiers in any number of uniforms performing atrocities on their loved ones or even...

"Won't you wake up, for me?"

A gentle echo in the back of the mind stirs the torpor only futily so.

"Will you stay by my side, until the end?"

Louder now, but still so quiet as to have been a trick of the mind; A whisper.

"I will teach you how lukewarm the hell you came from was!"

It melds with so many others. Louder some while distant are others.

"I will sooner burn Qadesh by my own hand than see those savages rape our ladys' work!"

The voices get more distinct, almost familiar, and lose their comfort as an unsettling heat overtakes.

"Failing at one mere step of the way makes everything we’ve worked for crumble like ash on snow, just like that..."

Faces now, both familiar and foreign.

It all blends together like the sound of a crowd and beyond one's comprehension as the heat builds to an uncomfortable level.

They

are burning.

You

are burning. There's

fire!

And just like that, the mind explodes back into consciousness, and eyes closed for decades snap open in claustrophobic tubes with fogged glass, filled with oppressively humid air. It's a strange and terrifying sensation as the mind racks itself and cannot fill the blanks it knows should be there.

Who am I?, where am I?

it demands. But as soon as the thought arises it is answered as if it was known all along.

Then their world expands as the glass swings open and the occupants fall forewards into the embrace of strangers in gray scrubs with surgical masks and goggles. They reassure you with monotone words clearly rehearsed many times and steady you onto your feet until you can stand.

They dress you and lead you on, still in a daze, somewhere new. The scenery changes and before any of the growing number of what could only be a few dozen people filing on slowly in a line from all races and genders into a massive cafeteria.

None of them knew how hungry they were until that point as the stomach suddenly alive like their minds ached almost painfully. The line moves slow and the meal seems disappointing when only brothy soups and small wedges of bread are given.

By the time the mind has fully awoken they are sitting together in tables set for five. Faces are all familiar even if names are lost to them. Refugees, militia, mercenaries they had been at some point in time.

But not all are there. The mind knows this even if the who that is missing eludes most still.

At one such table, a group of familiars sit idle, all waiting for another to break the silence. They fought a Golem together, they survived. They escaped.

So what now?


===============

Elsewhere. A different sort of mind awakes from an almost dreamless sleep. She awakes in a haze and must remember that the body she cannot feel is normal.

For the body, even if she were more than just a head on a pedestal would even still elicit not a single sensation beyond the ghost of a feeling now lost.

"Hello, Morgan. Can you tell me your name, perhaps can you recall your oldest memory?" A trick and a question from an unfamiliar face belonging to a man in a lab coat.

He looks on expectantly, a finger hovering over a data slate.

 

[Universe]

Imported post - written by soresu​

Čehrāzād awoke from the long, dreamless slumber. Pieces of that vision returned to her, sensations sounds and images thick as chains weighted around her neck. As if a noose had been placed around it. The in-between, the world between worlds. Of the waking and the dreamer. The twilight the false awakening. Her mind, dead, black, the little death of being frozen for decades. The process of awakening, of neurons, firing and the heart begins to pump blood which had been replaced with a foreign cocktail within her veins to prevent cell death.

She had been so very afraid... her life had been in the hands of the Creator. Those she had loved had been reduced to but two. Clinging to her in desperation while ascending to the stars, the waiting ark in orbit. Terror, sweat, and sobbing had made the air rank with the ash of the dead, dust from crumbling works once standing proud. And on the horizon of their world, the land had glowed. Not with the lights of cities, of civilization. But the open wounds of a world dying. Its children ripping into it in a mad frenzy of greed, lust, and desire for power. Once white clouds replaced with ink stains that had marred the skies. An orange fire raged across their continent and beyond. Once blue seas seemingly dead.

And then on that mockery of a view a detonation. Bright fire, a small star in the distance. Blue fire pushing back the clouds, the fire, and likely the masses that fought over the remains, the scraps left behind in the exodus. It had been a detonation. Pure energy is released as a ball of cleansing fire. Bellowing forth it had cracked the land, visible even so far away that distance had not mattered. Even to her eyes. It had been her city. Her home. Hidden away from the vulgarities of those other nations. Protected by a skin of thick stone, composites, and bones cast from titanium. A city built within the earth itself.

The reactor had been an achievement. A breakthrough in clean energy using fuel readily abundant and distilled from the waters now choked with radioactive fallout and who knew what else. The fractional might of a star, fusion energy brief and beautiful and the death knell of those that had remained. They had done it. They had killed themselves. Taking the accumulated knowledge of generations with them in that brief flare of defiance. That final stand and gesture to a world on its knees. Her people would not go quietly. A bold statement was made. And rendered. To see such a thing again as her mind came to life. The dream, the memory ending in confusion as she lurched forward from the pod.

Hands had grasped her, words fallen on deaf ears as she keened. Towering over some, Čehrāzād felt weak but strong enough to have shoved one of those monotoned drones aside in her confusion.

Her arm was afire from where an injector site had drawn the substance out, and blood flowed in. Warmth had returned. And it had felt like that star on the horizon. Bright and furious. Something had come up, something they had given her. Made her drink. Even for her palette, it had been the vilest thing she had tasted. And now it coated the interior of her mouth, tasting as if it had curdled in the desert sun for a season or more. But it went back down even as she felt that hunger begin to cause a fierce pain in her stomach.

Dressed now, a line moving slowly, Sherry felt dead inside. Even with food before her, familiar yet so very foreign she simply stared at it. Hands in her lap as her mind turned over just how everything had turned out so wrong. Why the world had turned on itself. Foreign power against a foreign power. The ancient tale of a titan, a being of colossal power feasting on its children out of fear of what was to come to pass. And for an unceasing hunger threatening to consume the titan lest they continue.

And then as quick as her modified form allowed, a copper-skinned fist slammed into the table out of frustration and hurt. Her tray emitted a little rattle as the utensils clattered against it. Why had things turned out as they had?

"Hayawan!" she cursed in her native tongue. Thick with hate. Animals she had said. For those that had bothered to ever learn her language. Now endangered to extinction for the ignorance and avarice that had held a world in thrall causing it to end.

 

[Char]

Cafeteria - Sherry, alphaes, caelus, AND ALSO GUNHANDS CHARACTER.

Sherrys' abrupt and sharp curse sent more than a few people at the neighboring tables jumping or flinching as it broke the quiet. While it earned her more than a few sets of hushed curses and retorts it garnered more of a response from the gray-uniformed marines at a set of double doors who after conversing, one of them retreated away.

There were quite a few of them it became apparent. Lining the walls they stood impassively in simple BAMF utility uniforms and just... Watched...

None of them spoke up, none did more than just watch them with unreadable expressions. It was unsettling.

This had caused quite a few hushed conversations to pop up here and there but never rose above a whisper as if their once-protectors were suddenly their executioners. None of the marines had weapons; Not knife or rifle or even pistol belt among them as they each stood a perfect position with their legs squared with their shoulders and their arms behind their backs.

Something finally changed in the unnerving soup-luncheon when the marine who had left returned with another figure in the same utility uniform who clearly, unlike them, wasn't a soldier. It was in the way she moved, the way the uniform simply looked wrong on her; On a frame too thin and too unaccustomed to physical labor to have ever done propper soldiering.

Breaking from the group and venturing off alone it was obvious her destination when she made a practical B-line towards the table Sherry, Alphaeus, and Caelus sat at and stood at its head. She stood at the end of the table for a pregnant pause as if expecting one of them to speak first before she took the initiative.

"You don't think you're being a little insensitive to the others when you act like that, miss?" She started off by completely blindsiding everyone's expectations. Clearly whoever this was, she was no therapist or psychiatrist here to soothe nerves.

Up close the woman's uniform had a lighter gray patch over one breast pocket that had marker-written letters that read Dubrant, and was very plain looking with chestnut hair, pale blue eyes, and despite Babel long since having invented a half dozen corrective ocular surgeries; Corrective lenses that hung just at the tip of a large-button nose.

"Everyone here has had a rough go of it, and they all have their circumstances." She continued, offering a warm smile and lighthearted tone despite the clear dressing down she was delivering. "So you aren't alone in whatever you think you're going through, so its ok if you want to talk about it."

"After all; You're safe here, you're home." She delivered the last line to everyone at the table and then looked past them to others.

The words sounded genuine and caused a spur of much more vocal chatter.

The Lab - Morgan N-14

"Not feeling very talkative, Morgan?" The BTS tech quirked a brow and spoke in a tone reserved for young children and pets before turning to a fellow.

"Are its vocalizers functioning, did we run a test?"

Beyond the techs, beyond the equipment, Morgan could just make out in the peripheral a familiar leg next to her. Her chain leg was wrapped and covered in a protective sheath and at its current height to where it stood from her body meant she was currently playing the part of the dullahan; A head off its body.

Beyond the meatlings were more of her kind. Bodies both large and small, macabre and symmetrical they lines numerous bays where their bodies were practically packed with tapes and colored stickers for transport and warning labels hanging out of gun barrels, off of sheathed weapons and restrained tails and other weapons separated from the whole. Each one was, like her, housing a pedestal before it with a head connected to wires and cables that ran in all directions down it and up loosely into the body.

A few were clearly active; Jaws or brows flexing, while some conversed with techs from BTS. A few simply stared off blankly with no signs of life in them for one reason or another.

Out of sight, One of them was screaming in a tone so high-pitched and without stopping that it was just background noise.

"Morgan can you recite your laws to me? Can you recall your parameters?"

 

[LavaLung]

Refabrication Chamber

The detached cranium of the fey murder-doll sat motionless despite the repeated instructions, staring out into space. The tie-wrapped long beige hair and oversized lips had the effect of a chibified cartoon octopus, though here and now the grim dead eyes pushed her right over into uncanny valley. Multiple warning labels and notifications hanging from the hair did nothing to dissuade this.

Dangling and clinking around on hanging brackets, the blade-leg was sheathed in a ziplock bag like yesterday's lunch leftovers. It was the thing that finally made her eyes move and react, before darting back to the more meat-constituent creature currently addressing them.

They'd actually kept all those parts? The chainsaw and the gun arm were a field repair. Just enough to get her back into combat as a shock unit, so she could finally die.

But here she was. Half way across the universe. Still trying and failing to receive that one last order that would finish her off for good.

"...Supervised removal of unsanctioned biomechanical assets." Morgan finally responded. Jaw clicked uncomfortably, not expecting for her entire head to be buffered upward when they opened their mouth...

Well, not 'uncomfortable'. They couldn't really feel anything. But talking to a person at all meant they were basically pretending to be a real person, and that's what a person would have felt.

It had gone past having a couple of phantom limbs. It felt like they had an entire phantom person, somehow.

"...Everything is... fuzzy..." A slippery, tired voice, drifting from word to word in soft tones, as if not totally lucid. "...If you're gonna keep me alive... Can't you just give me some kind of positive brain damage to make me happy?... Like, wedge the serotonin door open or something?..."

How did they remain happy before?... Oh yeah. Shooting people. And feeling the chunky vibration of that chainsaw going through backbones...

Yeah, they should probably be dead. That would have made logical sense.

But some new orders would be a nice new start.

 

[Soresu]

Čehrāzād gave those that had cursed or issued any such responses toward her with a level stare. If they wished to sit meek as milk in silence and eat their meal then let them. Holding such pain in was beyond her control. And while she could almost admire those hushed tones and silence of her fellows she resented them as well. Even with frustration and grief clouding her mind, the woman couldn't help but look to those men and women standing in their uniforms. BAMF uniforms. So, some of their armed forces had made it beyond those she'd been with at the Tower. Thinking about that again sent a new twist of the knife to the gut even as one of the marines had disappeared. She hadn't seen it, so intent now on what was on the tray before her.

If she had time, any time she would offer up prayers for those of her people that had stayed behind. Or been left. Her lips moved but no sound accompanied the movements, she'd already begun when a voice pierced that thin veil of piety. Head bowed as it was, when she was bombarded by those questions, statements. It whipped up to stare at this thin woman before her with eyes that could very well have been sapphire chips glinting in the light. Her gaze flicked from patch to uniform, to every part she could see taking it all in.

"It's insensitive for them to not also show or share their pain. Instead, they sit in silence." with a flick of her gaze, stripping the look from the spectacled woman to the marines stationed around the cafeteria her look of frustration intensified for a moment then faded. She concluded they were there to weed out the unruly. Or restrain them. Or as a reassuring presence. Very likely all three.

"Ñuha lenton zaltan, nyke ūndan ziry massigon. Skoros issi aōha zuruf pār?" (My home burned, I saw it happen. What are your circumstances then?) she asked, her tone level and low as she inspected this woman again, Dubrant. Her tone and smile in this dismal atmosphere upon awakening thirty years give or take from cryogenic stasis should have been a traumatic experience. Watching your home burn and people die incurred that effect. Sherry turned her head slightly, throwing her gaze slightly off. Suspicion emanated from her as she did so.

"No, who are you? You neither look, act, or think like the rest of those of us in this hall." Sherry questioned, "No observable signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. Anxiety. Depression, agitation. Instead, you're sedate." the last she murmured thoughtfully. Then she looked to the uniform again.

 

[Char]

Cafeteria - Sherry, Alphaes, Caelus, AND GUNHAND ONE. OF. THESE. DAYS.

"My name is Astarte Dubrant." The overly friendly and uniformed woman answered Sherrys' bite with a reassuring and conversational tone, her blue eyes oddly piercing as she maintained eye contact with Sherry; The woman's sheer presence and gaze had an unsettling effect of making one seem small when the approachable personality stopped at her eyes and left only the impression that she was looking through someone and not at them as if they weren't there. "I am the aide-de-camp for the 2nd shock stationed in Khandar. You're in Chaldea, by-the-by."

The last statement the woman gave she aimed at someone else nearby when those in the proximity of the table stopped trying to even passively eavesdrop.

"Chaldea, wheres that?" Someone else asked as others nodded. The name and the other location; Khandar, were not familiar to any one single person present.

Her follow-up response of "North of the coast, settled in the center-east of the caldera and south of the Kigal mountain range." Garnered no small amount of chatter. To those with any semblance of geographical knowledge or a mental image of a map could put not a single reference to any of such a declaration.

Sweeping a gaze and making some kind of decision Astarte left her seat and Sherrys' questions unanswered as she shuffled over to a couple marines and with barely a few words sent them on their way the same way she had arrived from.

"If I can have everyone's attention?" She barely raised her voice after clapping her hands a few times to silence the group. "If you'll come with me, I think it's time we move on and get everyone situated. We have a long trip ahead of us and we'll have plenty of times for questions on the way~"

Jumping down and starting off towards the door, clearly cutting off any inquisition, the doors were left parted open by two marines, as the rest slowly filtered around the cafeteria and collected dishes and began putting chairs on tables and generally closing up the cafeteria. With little else to do but be swept up by the momentum and with burning curiosity the group slowly but animatedly started after her unmolested.

The hall beyond was short; Only a few dozen feet, and branched off into several side halls and doors to dark office spaces with blank name plaques. Ahead and at the end two more marines held open another set of double-doors; This time with glass planes that opened up to a large courtyard at night.


Outside.

A soft, light, and warm rain drizzled down in the open lot as the group filed out. Most stood agape as wind blew over them, and a soft rain drew down their skin.

"But... The ship?" One man uttered in astonishment, still not at terms with what had been hinted at from Astartes first words.

"Still in orbit!" Astarte shouted over the din of rain and chatter; Now bedecked in a black oiled-leather coat that went down to her knees and matched a few of the marines scattered around the lot who were loading bags and containers into the undercarriage storage of two massive bus-style vehicles with too-large tires and painted a matte-black. "All personnel have been offloaded planetside and it is being disassembled and scuttled in orbit for the materials and resources."

"And before anyone asks. This new home of ours is called Ereshkigal." She stated with no small amount of pride. "I'm told the Lady named it herself"

The chatter started all over again at the mention of the revered lady Ishtar.

Finally the marines from the cafeteria started filing out and towards the front most bus and began helping their fellows load supplies and luggage.

"Now if you'll all follow me." The group was lead gratefully out of the rain and into the rear most bus where they were greeted by an empty interior sans row after row of comfortable looking reclining seats folded on which was each a neck pillow and throw blanket.

"I know you've all slept for some time, but you'd be surprised how tired you'll feel for the next few days. Feel free to use the ride to rest, it will be quite a trip to Khandar and we should make it there by tonight."

After the group settled in they where joined by two marines; One taking up the drivers seat, while the other sat on a bench next to him. Unlike most of the marines before, the second man was armed with a Caliburn rifle slung over his shoulder and several magazine pouches and webbing showing under the black coat he wore.

With no further fanfare, and clearly having loaded up the first bus, the marines could all be seen loading into the first bus and then shortly after it started off and was followed by the second. The city they passed through could only be called that in passing, as towering buildings sat still under construction and smaller buildings looked like temporary construction as vehicles and people flittered about in the rain as if it was commonplace.

The trip out of said city was short and marked by only two remarkable landmarks. One was clearly the base of a space elevator reminiscent of the Tower of Babel they had all known and could easily place. The tower's base was still unfinished but, much like its sister, was massive and easily seemed to span a third of the cities area.

The second was only seen in passing by a few, and blocked off by a tunnel the busses went into but was clearly a statue of massive proportions. While it was too short of a glimpse to notice any overt details, the height and size of the statue alone, while dwarfed by the elevator, was already larger than any of the buildings.

Before long the busses eventually left the outskirts of the city and promptly hit a dirt road and continued on into the night where no lights showed while the ever-shrinking lights of Chaldea slowly dimmed as they got further away. It was some hours later after it became clear that the ride was not going to be a short one that people began giving into a growing sense of exhaustion and began dozing off.

Few got much sleep as most where violently startled awake when someone had sprung from their seat and began shouting and pointing at the head of the bus.

"That, that right there!" The man was downright irate as he gestured past Astarte Dubrant and at a small monitor just above her head he had seemingly noticed. Focussing on the screen it seemed at first nothing at all until one clearly put the pieces together and understood the implications.

ARTICLE 22: CONTRACT PERMISSIONS CHANGE AND TRANSFER AGREEMENT.
2.01. Employee agrees to provide at minimum access to the Conglomerate of secured access points for ground action in all Asset districts, as newly drafted members of the babel armed military forces (BAMF) via transference of all personal contacts to a standard BAMF contract as marines, naval, municipal, infrastructure, and/or local defense forces securing and manning under construction territory and infrastructure. The deadline for this transference was met upon the activation from cryosleep.

2.02. Employee will determine the method, details, and means of performing the services described in Section 2.01. Babel may specify only the results desired in regard to the specified services.

2.03. Employee forfeits the ownership of any sub-contracts such as underage personnel sub-contracted to Employee per ARTICLE 7. Such sub-contracts are held for the duration of this contract.

2.04 Employees forfeit all personal effects as of the implementation of the contract. Employees are subject to personal property aquired after the start of this contract and are responsible for all issued equipment and BAMF property.

The screen kept slowly scrolling on to another section that read much the same and as if those that had yet to figure it out, someone came to the conclusion and blurted it out.

"You're drafting us?!"


Refabrication Chamber - Morgan

"She says her vision is fuzzy." One of the techs remarked to her fellows at Morgans statement and swept up a roll of small hand-tools. For some it might be unsettling when someone pries your eyelid open and literally plucks out an eyeball and starts separating it at a seam to inspect the optic But for Golems like Morgan it was literally nothing.

"Fault in the lense, that should fix it. Perform an internal calibration and say if it persists."

Morgan was left to sit and diagnose for some time as the techs moved onto another activated Gol. After an indeterminate amount of time, a new tech came and lifted Morgans head off of its pedestal and started disconnecting cables. The separation from a serotonin nodule was immediately felt by her and whatever the man began talking about was quickly drowned out as the Golem was left dead inside.

The sensation did not last forever. As feeling and warmth returned to her mind as diagnostic text and loading bars passed through her vision as she was hooked up to her test-body and the startup process began. As her cyber muscles tightened with new electric signals Morgans body stiffened and straightened and clacked as fingers hit against metal carapace and digits and limbs flexed.

"Everything seems to be operating normally." The man remarked more to himself than to morgan. "Take a quick stroll down the length of the lab, and walk the perimeter outside until you get a recall code and report back if you notice any irregularities."

Clearly dismissed the man walked off and began examining an offline unit.

Morgan could tell from her HUD that, like usual, her test-body lacked anything close to her normal weapons. But even for a toothless version she was still a golem and the body alone was a weapon all its own.

"N-14?" A voice pulled Morgans attention as she staggered down the lab once again able to walk on her own. Turning towards the sound a disembodied head stared up at her from a pedestal.

Ares had clearly stopped screaming at some point and came back to his senses.

"I am relieved to see you are still operational, N-14" The older Gol stated with a lack of emotion and kept looking forwards and not even at Morgan. "Seven units have been decommissioned since I was activated due to erratic and corruptive behavior variances and moved back into their storage units. I am sure the captain will be most pleased two of the 2nd's units have not malfunctioned as they have."

Ares was silent for a long moment after that. But finally, his eyes locked onto hers with an audible clack.

"My body has sustained irreparable damage and has been decommissioned. " He stated with the slightest inflection of emotion. "A replacement is underway but will be some time. You will take me with you on your pathing, I wish to see what this new world looks like."

 

[LavaLung]

Refabrication Chamber -> Biomecha Nurse Station

Morgan seemed to watch themselves sleepwalking from above, their mind paying closer attention to the diagnostics than actual base reality. It was only when spotting the toggle switch for 'VPSSE' (Vertex Pressure Simulated Sensory Emulation), did they realise their torso had been coated in a rubbery layer of soft synthetic faux-flesh, the same as their face.

How long had it been since they resembled an actual person like this? Their whole body had been a ramshackle of dysfunctional parts for almost the entire war, a conglomeration of half-broken pieces held together by duct tape and prayers. Did all of the other casualties in the unit free up the spare parts again?

"Ares... You're..." A sheepish tone, his stone-cold eyes seeming to wield absolute authority. They'd both been part of the command structure so long that they didn't really need to have relationships like that hard-coded, it was just a fact now. "N-14 will operate as instructed. Ordered operations commencing..."

Her walk cycle was kind of pathetic to watch. The fan-like sensor ears were great for counterbalance at high speeds, but an inoperable chainsaw for a leg was total dead weight. The right arm wasn't much better, a silent cannon with only a basic, rudimentary gripping attachment. Picking up the head wasn't too hard, regardless, putting him at the centre of their chest and facing outwards.

"Don't worry, my brain can't break, it was broken in the first place." A nervous joke. Knew he wouldn't reciprocate, but it felt... like something, to pretend to be the person they once were.

Several clacking steps, then she paused at the doorway suddenly.

A grumbling discomfort... She was 'naked'... Like, she wasn't really, because Morgan's stupid doll-like body only had a couple of cellophane-like blocks of colour, where that unoptimized anatomy had been just totally blanked off, but there was once a Morgan that wouldn't want people to know that...

Placing Ares' head on the filing cabinet, she took one of the gowns from the nursing station, and then put it on.

Then gave the other Golem's head a look that said 'shut up' without actually saying it.

"Beginning the compound patrol. We'll test basic functional operations on route." A disgruntled tone. "Please let me know if you would like to change course, to examine sites of interest, Sir."

 

[Soresu]

The Short Bus to Hell


Sherry had met that piercing blue stare with her own. The Qadeshi woman merely tilted her head a little to one side as if trying to decide how to dissect a specimen she'd found interesting. Or perhaps merely questioned everything passing between this woman's lips. Dubrant was wrong on so many levels. She could feel it in her bones from the top of her head down to her toes. Once her explanation was over and the group of survivors had begun shuffling out, Sherry followed suit keeping the napkin they'd given her for the meal. Even her enhanced mind was still acclimating from the information, the nightmarish waking dream and realization her siblings were nowhere to be found. She knew they had made it aboard the ship. They had gone into cryostasis. Perhaps they had awakened ahead of her. Yes. That was what she wanted to tell herself but held her doubts.

At the blurted question, the scientist had stopped just shy of exiting and into the drizzling rain. Ever cautious, she eyed the rain with suspicion even as the slight woman and Marines escorted the others out. One or two bumping into the tall, copper-skinned female. Wearing a frown, Čehrāzād observed the milling group. Looking to the overcast sky and the weak light of the distant star. Orange. With a flap of the napkin, tentatively, Sherry allowed a few droplets to catch on the napkin she had just folded. Lifting a silver-blonde eyebrow, the water appeared black to her eyes. Taking a step backward and into better lighting, knowing full well she was holding them up she studied it for a moment and then filed out with the rest.

A shudder passed through her at the feel of the rain. Her mind's rational response was to stay away from it. Out of it. An alien biome. An unknown world. No matter what Ishtar had claimed doubt was still there for her and what may lurk within those droplets. But at the bus, Čehrāzād
squatted, folding the napkin again, and again until it was thick enough she scooped a pinch of the native soil up and boarded the vehicle. Once she had found her seat, the blanket going unnoticed, sapphire eyes inspected the gray, wet soil staining the napkin as she squished and rubbed it with the material. Mostly ignoring those around her, Sherry looked to the dirt with such focus one could have started the war all over and she would've let it go unnoticed for a time.

A caldera was it? She wondered if any of them knew what one was. A volcano that had some time in the past erupted and collapsed leaving depression behind. Briefly, her mind wondered why it had not filled with water. But of course, the ship in orbit would be scuttled and repurposed. Now they were effectively trapped. And could very well die on this benighted planet.

The city did receive a passing glance. Half-finished buildings, smaller ones, likely a form of temporary prefab. So, to be in this world and already a city being built. How long had they been in orbit asleep while this construction had begun? The base of the twin to the very orbital elevator she and the remainder of her blood had fled toward was still a skeleton in most respects. The base was just as big, unfinished and made her re-examine the travel time and construction timetables. The dim lights of Chaldea faded, people began to drift off to sleep, or nap, but she stayed awake. One of the marvels of being a designer baby and one of the most damning qualities. The napkin and soil rested in a clump at her feet while she had clasped her hands together, elbows resting on armrests. It was almost reminiscent of prayer. But where one's eyes closed and lips moved and words spouting out she was deathly silent.

Čehrāzād had been studying the spectacled woman in detail. From her too baggy uniform, thin frame, glasses (in an age of corrective surgery) every little detail committed to photographic memory. That analytical reverie was interrupted by a deep, male voice. Looking to them, and where they were pointing, the BTS woman didn't so much as squint or lean forward to read the scrolling texting.

With a sniff at the first portion of the contractural change, the second flashed by, and the third would have ignited twin fires tinged with blue of her eyes if it were possible. But she didn't move an inch. Just merely continued to read until finally everything was said and done. And one of the slackjawed people spoke the obvious.

"Holding children hostage? So that we will work as drafted?" she finally spoke, her voice didn't fit her form. Tall, even seated, it was of a slightly high pitch, without inflection beyond scorn. It was an accusation of course, and she wanted to see the response. Not only from the Marines but the people and the woman that led them. Her posture hadn't changed but she did look from the marine to the one who stated the obvious and back.

"What would the Lady think of such a thing if she were here?" there was no venom to her question but a definite bite. And then the final question, "Where are my sisters, Dubrant?", was laced with icy contempt.

 

[A_Bibor_Farkas]

Cafeteria to the transport

Alphaeus Nasica

Seeing familiar faces, seemed to be a blessing and a curse for the younger Scout, too far lost in thought the acknowledge sherry's initial outburst. The naked almost unsettling feeling of being unarmed for so long, seemed to etch away at his nerves. Flashes of his memories came and went with little control, as the reality of what happened finally comes to a head. The small amount of soup and bread seemed to make sense after so long of a 'nap'.

As Andraste began her short speech, Alphaeus listened carefully, much like the others there were little recollection of such places being on any map that had been memorized. Staying quiet, when the group stood he followed,the light sound of rain on metal was the first thing he noticed, still surveying as the group continued their way outside. The warm rain was a welcomed surprise at the cold he had felt in that box of a building. Looking up for a moment as the lukewarm black drops bombarded his face and chest. Slicking his hair back with a hand before his tired eyes fell to the armed Marine, Seeing such nice hardware felt good, it was a sign that they were somewhere stable. Following the ever outspoken Scientist, Alphaeus sat closest to the window, allowing Sherry to observe her dirt.

As the Buss continued on through the city, Flashes of burning buildings, rubble and bodies everywhere, began to overlay the construction sites. As it did so alpheus made a quiet grunt and closed the shutter, leaning his head against the walls of the bus. His limbs were heavy and his mind still foggy, a nap was all he wished for, but instead.. the irritating sound of concerned people shook him from his light rest. Hearing that Babel was to draft the group of misfits made him chuckle slightly, before sherry began to speak up. As she did so his eyes became more alert, and a scowl washed over his face." Andtraste Dubrant, answer the Scientists question. Yes we may be working for you again. But you tell her if her sisters are safe. We both killed to protect them and many others hear, don't think I won't do it again. Ten years wasn't enough? Or are we already back to making hard decisions? His eyes lit up like two flames, his scowl now a bit deeper as his voice elevated with each question.
--------------------------------------
István

The commotion was little of his concern at first in the cafeteria, but now... now his curiosity was piqued, the rare sight of a Qadeshi Scientist, and the soft jovial tone of their possible new employer, began to stir a large amount of emotions from the young man. A Scientist and researcher himself, he had observed the woman picking up a sample of the dirt and rain before boarding, eager to find answers his mind raced, only to be overpowered by the want for nicotine. Standing up he put a hand on the surprised man's shoulder, before looking to Andraste." For now, we will recieve answers as they come, as was previously stated. I have only one question to add to the bombardment you are receiving Ms. Dubrant....is there any nicotine tablets, inhalers, or good old cigarettes I can have access to?"

 

[Char]

Bus.

With a growing uproar brewing, the marine at the wheel of the bus slowly began to slow down to a stop while the other spoke into a mounted radio. When the bus had finally stopped the two marines took up positions just behind Dubrant; Hands off weapons but still making it obvious that no attempt on the aide-de-camp would be met with anything less than what a BAMF marine from the second most veteran corps in all of BAMF could dish out.

Beyond them and through the window the other bus continued on for several hundred more feet before it too began to slow to a stop.

Astarte for her part seemed rather unphased by the brewing mayhem in the making and tried to speak over the crowd with a placating tone and hand gestures lost to the louder irates. When it had clearly went on too long, she nodded to the driver once and then she and the other marine lowered their gaze downwards.

The sharp curses of pain the too-bright interior lights elicited from passengers when they switched on quieted it some bit as the new colonists to this dark world where temporarily blinded with sunspots akin to staring too long into the sun. Their vision flashed so bright and long that few of them could even tell the lights had been dimmed once again.

"There are no hostages, Ms.Čehrāzād." Astarte stated in almost too casually a tone as if at any moment the bus wasn't going to once again turn into a riot. "All children, and those of the elderly, infirm, or those who have sustained substantial injuries will be remaining in cryostasis for some time while the main labor force, military, and essential workers are woken first for development. There simply isnt enough shelter and resources to wake everyone right now, and it isn't yet safe or suitable for minors or non-essential employees, you will soon understand that I assure you."

"And as for other concerns, none of you need worry. Now that the war is over the currently active board members; Comprised of Sir-Bacchus, and Madame-Tiamat is acting on the established roadmap laid out by Lady Ishtar herself before our departure from our old home, and will be downsizing and eventually disbanding BAMF once the current population is safe and sustainable. Your new contracts are strictly temporary and you should expect a new transfer to your old or even new occupation in the coming months"

This seemed to dissuade most of the crowd into mumbles and murmurs as most seemed more upset at the still flashing sunspots in their eyes now than the prospect they could have still been frozen for months longer.

As most began to recover their full vision, more than a few of them would notice the only other source of light around them; The other bus, cut off its spotlights mounted around it and even the taillights cut completely off until the bus was little more than a slightly lighter silhouette in what appeared to be an even darker night despite the fact that their travel having felt like hours should have brought them close to the lightening horizons of dawn.

Khandar - Morgan

It was not hard for Morgan to find her way outside. Simple strata on the walls guided her way down a long tunnel and even up somewhat to what became ground level and opened up to two massive armored doors propped open into darkness brightened by artificial lights.

One door spotted a black monochrome rendition of a standard war mask most golems were issued before retrofitting their own. The other had a much more obvious 'WARNING: Golem Storage, Authorized Personnel ONLY' painted in largely white, blocky letters to dissuade the curious or stupid from wandering inside.

This was unremarkable to either Morgan or Ares who passed it without remark; Business as usual. Outside it was dark above and softly raining. There was the distant sounds of whirring generators and the soft plinting of rain against the nearby structures from which dark-coated marines in oiled leathers came and went with little hurry as if the rain was commonplace enough that avoid it was impossible.

"Interesting" Ares cut the din and brought Morgans attention upwards; Her cyber-link with Ares allowing her to instantly follow his line of sight without even needing to look down to see just where he was looking. Follwing his gaze, Morgan looked up, and then up, and then up again where a mass of metal scaffold-style towering blended in with the night sky above them...

No, not night, as Morgan understood it she instantly knew as her link with the other golems head shared his processing and findings with her. The top of the great towers spinning great spotlights spun slowly like a lighthouse, and the dark mud beneath her feet that was black as asphalt made it clear that this place was naturally dark as light refracted poorly on the dark soil and made the ambient light much dimmer in a pseudo-night.

"True night must be remarkably dark, I suspect. The light tower was no doubt erected as a landmark due to low visibility." He stated, causing Morgan to naturally cycle her optical modes from low-light to nightvision and even infrared; Finding them various degrees of useful in the current light.

Wandering along while processing this new development the two of them became aware of the perimeter of the base as massive 30-foot tall walls spanned its perimeter and cut off the still unseen landscape no doubt being slowly illuminated in slow lazy circles by the tower. Changing directions the two of them even wandered in, and then purposefully out of the range of other Golems performing the same task as querries were sent through proximity communications channels and received before going their separate ways without ever coming face to face.

Such was the way of their kind...

In a nearby garage of some kind with a roof-retracted door large enough to fit a mech, overall-wearing men slowly scurried about like efficient ants as they worked on...

The size of the door became apparent by the ten-foot-tall chicken-walker style leg assembly currently being worked on with nothing else in sight. The two of them would have passed it by with but a glance had one of the mechanics not jogged out into the rain and shouted after them.

"You there, unit!" He shouted, prompting Morgan to turn and appraise the oil and grime-covered man that the rain didn't so much as affect it was so thick. While Morgans profile was clearly unique enough to be an obvious golem, her choice of garment gave him pause.

"Give us a hand a moment, the woodsman needs one of you types for something right quick."

Turning back and jogging back into the shop without waiting, Morgan and Ares were left alone again.

"One of the knights yet lives," Ares stated again, not a question. While the Twelve Knights changed frequently over the course of the war as they died and were replaced, a few of them lived long enough to be well known by name alone.

The Woodsman was one such knight, though was more infamous than the other living eleven who made names for themselves like storybook heroes. This became doubly apparent when entering the massive garage when a circle of mech-engineers; Squires, were trying to lift by hand a section of armored plating that could have weighed upwards of a thousand pounds into position against the calf of the leg where pneumatic pipes and hoses where exposed without it.

"Dont just stand there you useless fucking machine!" A hoarse voice called out and its origin became apparent when a man directly under the armored plate was trying to push it up from below while the others lifted from the side. He was out of shape with what the old world might have called paunch and unkempt and just as dirty as the squires around him with a wild explosion of a beard and shaved head.

If the other twelve knights were portrayed as dashing and gallant heroes on posters and propaganda, it was the woodsman who fit the mark portrayed of him as the lunatic murder-hobo the videos often showed him considering the almost crazed and manic look he gave off; Not that it mattered to a golem what anyone else looked like when few of their own kind could look at themselves in the mirror...

"Get over here and fucking LIFT!"

 

[LavaLung]

Khandar Mech Sheds

During the early stages of their walk through the empty halls and ash-grey fields, the rabbit-cyborg found themselves trying to imagine the sensations that they should have felt. The breeze was probably cold, but refreshing after such a long trip in a giant bottle of recycled body odour...

Ares kept interrupting their train of thought by prompting virtual connections through, ruining her train of thought, and breaking her grasp on the partially imaginary sub-reality.

"The landmark is very impressive, sir." Morgan gained a dour tone, even if they were internally telling themselves to appreciate the company of somebody who really understood them. Maybe it was difficult not be annoyed about being subliminally reminded constantly? "I hope the power system is stable. There would be a high degree of chaos, if the organics needed to scramble for equipment."

Suddenly, yelling- An interruption to an interruption. A baseline human approached.

Ears twitched. She realised her nurse gown must look weird when soaked through.

"The Woodsman. They brought it with us." An appraisal, slight shock and interest. If they brought heavy equipment like this... What did they intend to use it against? "A human Morgan used to draw pictures of this guy... They enjoyed the fact they were a bit wild and scummy..."

Gol Unit N-14 approached the brash man slowly, deliberately. The rain and pale hair made them look oddly luminescent, compared to the cursed dark ground. Like some kind of banshee, walking out of the grave.

"You don't have authority to give me orders. But I have the capability of doing you a favour." Was the reply. She actually smirked, despite themselves; Projecting the cocky swagger of her old ganger days, since it was amusing to mess with the stocky, angry little man... But what could she ask for, in return? "...I'll move a bunch of stuff, if you put a pin-up of me on it. That would be cute, wouldn't it? Knifey bunners?"

Morgan made a blade-thin smile at him, narrowing their turquoise eyes, earnestly waiting for an answer.

Ares' detached head got hugged and coddled in a really creepy way, without thinking. That probably didn't help.

 

[Gunhand4171]

The Bus to... somehwere

Sitting in the very back was a lanky young man with messy blonde hair. A black wrapping covering his eyes. He'd been silent ever since coming down from the ship and getting on the bus, keeping to himself. When the lights flicked on, he was unfazed unlike the others. He had silently listened to the others as they threw around words like 'draft' and 'hostage.'

There was no getting out of their current predicament. Whether they liked it or not they were all getting drafted, and short of the lady her self decending from the sky they were going to have to live with it.

Once the the crowd had devolved into murmurs, Typhon stood and looked in the general direction of Astarte. "What would you have us do Ma'am? If the Lady demands it, who am I to decline." He asked, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the others.

 

[Soresu]

Sherry watched her handiwork as the thin woman worked to try and placate the crowded bus. She had wondered about her sisters. Her heart ached and worry made it all the worse. But ever the curious one and to sew a bit of discord in her little experiment after reading the contractural invocation the scientist hadn't been able to help it. At the gesture, the coppery Qadeshi watched as the marines bowed their heads and their superior did the same. Confirmation of the brewing question and its outcome came as light flared within the confines of the bus. The bright light caused her to reflexively bring a forearm up to shield her eyes further with her head ducked. Squeezed shut, Čehrāzād heard the curses and hisses that had accompanied the sharp and stinging brilliance.

Her people were desert people. Shade was a thing of luxury on the dunes outside of the shelter of their city. It had been less than a few seconds. Good. No retinal damage. Her mind rationalized this and kept them covered for longer than the others. Bathing her vision in darkness before slowly lowering her arm. Her eyes, blue, were sensitive to light. More than those blessed with darker. But it had held the advantage of better night vision. Even if only to a marginal degree. Slowly as if peeling off a dressing on a wound she opened them a fraction at a time. Letting them adjust incrementally. Even as the other woman spoke, her darker-skinned counterpart had still to fully open her eyes while she explained the situation.

Whether knowing it or not, Astarte had given her what she had secretly sought. Confirmation gained. Platitudes offered. Knowing her name had also been part of what she had sought. Waking her from stasis told her much. Over others. Article Twenty-Two or not. She was not BAMF, not trained militarily. She of course knew how to hold and use a gun. But nothing to the degree of a trained marine. Sherry was a civilian. contractually obligated or not. Of which this woman had two.

And if their uniforms were any indicators dangerous ones at that.

But she did spare a glance to the spectacled doctor, her gaze scathing at the mentions of tobacco, of nicotine at a time like this. Leave it to a man to take the road less traveled and think of carcinogens to pull into their lungs during a time of seriousness.

His interruption aside, Čehrāzād now had a better understanding of the little experiment she had just performed. The thoughtful insight soured when the words slipped from another's mouth. It was all she could do not to sneer. A bootlick in their midst already. While many questions went unanswered. For her, at the very least they would be answered in time. Of that Čehrāzād would make sure.

The tall, seated woman still squinted ever so slightly giving her a somewhat sinister or threatening look. With which she blinked away. As to her sisters, she explained just what one of them carried and the blood price attached to it.

While her memory was superlative, Sherry only committed so much to the research she had brought. In part due to lack of time. And for fear of capture and torture but also the possibility of something else. Up to date, bleeding-edge from just before the fall of her city. The marines had to drag her away after the woman had burnt out the data stacks. It had been chaos. Researchers running about like chickens with their heads off. Arguments had erupted all ending with the sizzling and popping of circuitry and wiring giving off that characteristic odor. The storage drive had then been hidden under her shirt on a chain in its protective sheath. Of which she had given to the youngest of her family before entering that damnable space elevator that had led them to this place.

Safekeeping and a bargaining chip if necessary the latter the girl's older sister had forced the impression upon. If she had died. Or her other sister, that little device would have at the very least bought the child some manner of reward or comfort should she survive. But the mentions of roadmaps she wanted to chuckle at. Complications arose. They always arose. Unforeseen circumstance. Variables beyond the set parameters.

Contaminants. Sherry had just demonstrated that with her little stunt. But then again it was bound to happen. Sooner or later. She had just wanted to be first to it and get viable results. Even if it had caused everyone around her discomfort.

 

[Char]

"And each of you are given a standard copy of your new contract for review with your issued equipment, where you can read the full details on the new terms and conditions-" Astarte continued on as some like Sherry seemed lost in their thoughts and contemplations; Slowly winning the crowd back over without making actual promises or consolations and just through honeyed words like the now extinct politicians of their old world.

Seeing she had it under control, the two other marines through an unspoken agreement settled back in and started the bus back up; The vehicle lurching forwards once more urging those who wanted to keep their feet to find their seats. Almost immedietly after they started forwards, the bus ahead of them started back up; Spotlights all around it coming to life to reveal some fifty marines spread out around it in what was pitch black, their weapons out and trained in all directions before in a coordinated series of movements mounted back up in their own bus which once again took the lead.

"True-night is coming soon." Astarte began as she saw some of the questioning glances on the bus. "Our world is dark and absorbs much of the ambient light of our sun causing a perpetual twilight during the day, and nights that are unsettlingly dark."

"Most of the natural fauna of Ereshkigal is also noctural, and its predators and larger creatures are attracted by light sources as well as sound and other means. Hence our escorts opting to rely on their low-light equipment in the dark as opposed to sitting around a bright beacon of spotlights. In true-night, however, there is no ambient light for most of our current low-light optics and systems and we have to rely on traditional lumen-based light sources such as spotlights and shoulder-mounted light harnesses to which you'll become familiar with in the coming months. But if you do find yourself isolated or lost at night its best to hunker down and wait it out until morning instead of wandering around and getting more lost of attracting the attention of a predator who has yet to learn to avoid us."

She continued on in a lecturing tone that was more than a little acedemic and insightful until something caught the side of the bus' attention and all heads seemed to snap that way.

"That," Astarte picked up as the distant light in the dark an indescernable distance away slowly revolved like a strange spinning beacon "Is Khandar. It is the home of the 2nd Shock and currently the sole BAMF military instalation outside Chaldea. What you are seeing is the beacon tower that illuminates its position and surroundings in the dark of the day, and makes the surroundings defensible at night. You'll get a closer look after your training is done and you get billeted there."

"We arent going there now?" Someone picked up, as the bus continued to turn away from the base which seemed much further than anyone could accurately guess.

"No. The base is currently being fully established as BAMF personnel are woken and deployed there. It would be chaos to have you try to navigate the atmosphere and goings on there as you are now. For now we're moving to a secondary instalation with a minimal BAMF presence and more space where you'll be given a basic, month-long training course and familiarized with being a part of BAMF while also acting as instalation security until your training is over and the next group is moved through."

As if speaking of it brought it into reality, another set of much smaller but very numerous lights came into view not but a few miles off as the buses continued down the broken trail of a dirt road. When it was close enough to make out details it seemed for all the world like nothing more than a series of a dozen sizeable warehouse-style structures with additional outbuildings with little more security than chain-link fencing topped with razonwire and an array of spotlights just bright enough to reach them. The busses continued on through an open gate and passed a checkpoint where three BAMF marines in their oiled leathers stood sentry under a cannopy-tent; Watching the bus continue on silently.

It wasnt more than a few moments longer before the busses pulled into the facility propper and before the array of warehouses; All much larger than they seemed from a distance as both busses could have easily driven side-by-side through the garage-style doors and still had enough room for a third, which was not to mention that each warehouse was easily as tall as a five-story building. They pulled up before the warehouses and after the first bus began to unload its marines; Half taken sentry behind the second bus while the rest began to unload their cargo, that Astarte took to her feet again with an enthusiastic clap and urged everyone to get out and stretch their legs for a moment.

After everyone had been shuffled out and managed to get their beirings they where arranged in several even lines infront of the bus. The first immediet thing noticed was that the ground beneath them was rather dry despite what the busses dragged in, and there was only enough moisture in the air to keep it cool but refreshing as if it was little more than a light mist that sparkled in the lights.

After a headcount and a rather lengthy contract-reading to affirm what everyone already knew, One of the marines from the second bus that had been its driver produced what would only become recognized as a flare when he snapped it and brought it alive into a burning inferno at its end. Offering it to Astarte, the woman took it and held it at arms length as if it would attack her otherwise and gave a less than remarkable through past the bus and into the open space between the warehouses and the fencing.

"While it's not my kind of performance, and It would mean alot if you act suprised or impressed let me formally welcome you to the 2nd-" Astarte began before the spot where the flares had been exploded. There was no dust, no debris. Just the sheer force and displacement as seven massive forms fell and hit the ground with the force of an irate god.

Slowly they stood and took form in the light of the spotlights now that the flare was extinguished beneath one of them. Seven sets of red, glowing eyes turned to the new recruits and each one of them knew true fear. Before them the hulking and massive monstrosities strode forwards with an awkward but sure gait that caused men to fall on their rears and scramble back, and others to huddle behind the bus as if not seeing them would make these terrors not find them.

A few stood their ground; Either petrefied with fear, not yet registering what was going on, or a scant few who knew what these were.

All the marines stood their ground, all familiar or not caring.

As they got closer and they became more discernable more caught their nerve or were reasured by the less than startled demenor of the marines. Standing at well over a head taller than the tallest of the marines, and being twice as broad, men of metal and war stood before the group.

And then one of them in the center took off his helmet and mask; The intense glow of his mask and goggles dimming as he sucked in a breath of fresh air as if he had just been drowning. It was not the face of a demon, or even that of a hardened soldier that greeted them. But instead the young face of a man in his late teens or early twenties who greeted them with a cocky grin and a jaunty wave.

"Hello everyone. My name is 1st lieutenant Humphrey Alexandar the 2nd, of Amtapov. Let me be the first to welcome you to the 2nd Shock."

Before them stood seven examples of the true strength of BAMF. Not worn and haggard soldiers on their final breath of desperation at the end of the war, but fresh, well equiped shock troopers in their heavy armor; Falling from the skies to terrorize the enemies of the reveared Lady Ishtar.

"Before we get you all settled and into military life does anyone have any questions?"

Before anyone could answer another of the armored OST took a step forwards and bellowed out in the terrifying amplified voice the armor provided.

"When you adress an officer it will be with respect and will begin and end at all times with sir. Otherwise you are to speak to one only when spoken to or prompted and will never make demands of one, only requests for which he is not obligated to answer or accept. When approaching an officer you will greet him by rank and salute him or her with your right arm agaist your chest and your hand balled into a fist over your heart and will only drop the salute when acknowledged by the officer."

His voice was loud but not overly agressive despite the growl the man entoned. As if stating common knowledge to those unenlightened who could not know any better.

And as if to insult the man without any trying, Astarte took a step forwards and knocked her knuckled on the young and familiar lieutenants chest plate and greeted him with:

"Hey, Hump. Glad you could drop in~"

Khandar Military base - Workshop

Most of the men and the few women in the workshop would have frozen in place and gawked at the mad machine had they not been trying to not crush themselves and their superior under the weight of the armored plate.

More than a few huffed, groaned, grunted, or swore. The best they could give.

But the man directly under it growled and with a reserve of strength pushed up until he had a forearm above his head and bracing against the plate.

"How about a pair of lucky rabbit-ears for on lanyard for good luck instead?" He growled, giving Morgan a view of a manic grin under his unkempt beard.

He continued the futile game of locking eye-contact with her for some time while his squires struggled to keep the plate above their heads until finally a machine-whirring sound started and someone managed to push in a rolling winch out of the mud and into the workshop.

The new couple squires apologized profusely to their superior who didn't even acknowledge them and while trying to get cabled and straps under the armor looked curiously between the contest of wills between madman and mad machine. Finally, however, the plate was secured and lifted up a half-meter; Allowing the other squires to practically collapse from their exertion in a circle.

The woodsman, however, sucked in a breath and exerted another growl as he finally broke eye contact to snatch an oily and dirty rag from his coveralls and wipe the sweat from his brow.

"What need is there to wake you blighted machines anyhow?" He wondered at Morgan, giving Ares decapitated head a curious glance.

"Strong, and good for labor ill give you. But BAMF is being disbanded sooner rather than naught, and your types will finally get your plugs pulled since aint no need for neither you nor me come soon."

He said it less like a question and more matter of fact as if he was letting Morgan in on a poorly kept secret.

"So what're you doing up and about? Why've you come into my workshop, Looking for an upgrade from that junk?" The woodsman looked down at Morgans legs and their clearly ramshackle make.

 

[LavaLung]

Khandar Military Base - Workshop

Morgan made a dull, soft scowl, heavy eyes and bleached white hair giving off the ominous presence of a mobile and agitated corpse. It took them an added minute to figure out the 'ears on a lanyard' were the metal ones currently attached to their cranium.

"BAMF property." N-14 answered all of the questions at once, shifting uncomfortably as their blade-leg threatened to sink into the black sand. "Surely it is obvious that something serious is in progress. Data suggests they would not defrost the murder-boner crack addict pilot on a perfectly peaceful world, just as much as a glorified can-opener like myself. Perhaps it is time to recalculate your own value within this infrastructure."

It might not have been his fault personally, but having new skin, wearing clothes... and still being immediately recognised as a 'mindless' Gol unit... That kind of hurt. The physical threat of violence or obsolesce, those were nothing compared to that.

Did anything they do even matter?...

Thoughts lingered back to those last nights in Babel, right up to Lieutenant Alexander arguing with his own marines for the Gol's right to take the orbital elevator up. People had been left in hell because of that. Humans.

-<Ares, Sir, can you do me a favour?>- Their expression mellowed out back into a cold blankness, staring back up at the vast tower of light. -<Can you use your higher authorisation code to give me information on the other refugees we were ported up with? I'd like to know their current status.>-

 

[Gunhand4171]

Typhon was knocked to the ground as the marines landed. It took him a few seconds before he was able to right himself and sat. Well... that answers the question of what we will be doing. the yoing man thought as he stood he wiped the debris from his clothing and the cloth covering his eyes.

He didn't speak when they were prompted for questions. He'd rather not draw undue attention from what was more than likely their new drill instructors. He simply stood still, waiting for the marines to instruct them further.

 

[Soresu]

Čehrāzād merely stared at the woman intently with unblinking bluer than blue eyes. They were not natural of course. Being gene-tailored and all. But as the sickly seeming female pointed toward the distant spot of brightness in a perpetual night, Sherry looked on with a frown. If this were truly a world where so little light graced its surface, then anything emitting light might attract said, predators. That was if any used any form of bioluminescence as a lure. Which given what she was hearing might be a real possibility. The fact the woman and her siblings (Who she was still pissed over) were now stranded on a darkened planet rankled her.

More than that were the unanswered questions sitting on their haunches in the back of her mind. All waiting to spring forth with the right timing and material to work with.

Silent still, the Qadeshi female's gaze flicked toward whatever her eyes could discern in the distance. As less concentrated light began to grow, she managed her first cursory inspection of what passed for security. Chain-link fence. Razorwire. Funny. One would imagine waking scientists and whomever else with her would be comfortably stationed in a safer area.

What she saw hadn't impressed. Instead, it left a bitter, dismal taste in her mouth and a pain in her gut. There had to be more to this than just something so simplistic. For starters, one did not wake a polymath scientist and shove them into an area as secure as a children's playground with minimum security.

From her seat, Čehrāzād craned her neck to get a better look at the buildings all the while wearing a disproving frown.

Soon afterward once they had filed out and into lines, she stooped to examine the soil. Not touching it directly but gazing at it intently. Then held a hand up. A drizzle, no, a misting of rain. With the air containing so much moisture and the temperature being lower caused her some discomfort. One did not live in a desert where the heat could top a dangerous seventy celcius.

With her reverie disrupted by the flare, the words, and finally the thunderous landing of seven armored forms, Čehrāzād staggered back lowering herself into a crouch. Of course being weaponless one could not shoot. Unless hopes and dreams count.

When one of the towering forms removed their helmet, the glow of optics dimming with such a youthful face behind the mask donning such a cocksure smile.

"Ao! (You!)" she said while pointing at the man. In the light, even with her eyes she had to lean forward even as Astarte greeted the man. Was he the same from the Tower? There had been another Alexander there. Her exclamation was halted before she could question the baby-faced boy further. With a voice booming from one of the suits.

In answer from Sherry was a delicate sniff.

--------

A young woman no more than her early twenties peered past one of the mech's legs. She wore a jumpsuit smeared in grease, and other lubricants. Pale as milk with a faint dusting of freckles on her face with a mop of red hair. Had it been neat it could've flowed or rather fallen in light ringlets or with a curl. Laughing sea-green eyes complimented the look all while she wore a dimpled smile.

"'ey boss I have yooehr cavfee..." her accent thick of Rathcroghan. The city had been little, but well known for its fine liquors and rowdy as all sin if riled populace. When the war had begun, those flame-haired citizens had raised all sorts of hell for the invaders. They had been adept at improvised weaponry, guerilla warfare, and savagery that had demoralized more than a few of the invaders. But being too few, and marking a target on their backs for fucking with armies bigger than themselves had picked a fight they couldn't win.

And yet even now some persisted. Such as the one now waving a scuffed, steel thermos with its lid tight and the cup on top held firmly in place.

As her pronouncement tapered off upon seeing Morgan and Ares, her eyes grew wide. Not with fear or revulsion. But with a little excitement maybe? Surprise? It was hard to tell with humans these days.

"Holy fuckeng 'ell it's a murder bunny!" pointing to the bunny-eared murder machine. Then crouching a little to get a better view of Ares, "It, s'e? dey? Even brought a Durahan with dem!" her voice touching on awe and not a scratch of fear in it. But a wide grin showed bright white teeth as she sauntered over to the unruly murderous hobo known as The Woodsman.

On her jumpsuit was stenciled the name Medb which had a line drawn through it. And below it was 'Artemis' in a fine, flowing script from what could only have been a red magic marker. Clearly not regulation.

"Good eveneng to you both! How was de thaw?" companionably asking the frightening duo. One who could slaughter the whole lot of them if they decided now was the time to go batshit insane. The other just staring on dispassionately dangling from their side like something straight out of faerie myth.

Waggling the thermos at the old man she gave a wink to the pair and then looked to the Knight: "Got de good stuff boss. Fuckers were tryeng to hhrde it all. You know dem light walker techs nd supply specialests. Bunch av nancies. Included a little somet'eng extra."

Pulling the cup free, and then unscrewing the cap, the scent of coffee, likely some of the last grown and roasted on their old homeworld wafted up to perfume the air. All tinged with a little something extra. A nip of alcohol, whiskey maybe?

"Also, dat actuathr and dat control board you were wanteng? Dey still haven't unboxed any av dat stuff. Told'em you'd give'em a good thump if dey didn't hurry de 'ell up."

Pouring a generous portion, the girl took an audacious actual sip of the Knight's drink savored it a moment, and then passed it over.

"Was dat Tibbens bastard who told me. Tubby bastard ogleng me, how'd 'e fit into a cryotube? What did dey do, pump de fat out fhr dat c'emical stuff and blow his ass back up like a balloon again?"

Putting the Thermos down, she wiped at a milky cheek that only caused an inky smudge to smear across it just a little.

 

[Char]

Atlas Shipyard.

There was no recognition noticeable on the lieutenant's face when he came to appriase Sherry, cae, alphaeus, or typhon. For his part the young man had filled out; From what could be seen the neck up as gaunt chin and cheek lines had once again filled out when brought from wartime rationing to peacetime mustering. Even the OST armor; Massive as it was, belied a more robust occupant than before as the young man in his late teens now filled out and in had clearly aged into adulthood and had obviously been awake and active longer than the almost-day of the once-refugees.

He answered what questions were broached, despite being clearly less diplomatic than Astarte Dubrant it made his answers seem more genuine and sympathetic as he confirmed most of her proclamations and more.

This new world was their home now, they were alone amongst it, and it needed to be tamed and its resources claimed to better secure the future for those who would come after them.

For that, the almost obliterated but still venerable 2nd Shock was not yet up to the task and pulled contracts to fill its ranks until such a time that in the near future a new home-guard could be established from the willing remnants and BAMF could once and for all lay down its arms, turn their proverbial swords into plowshares, and know a day to come without hellfire and brimstone. The optimism in which he broached all this was reassuring to those weary from the last and most brutal years of the war and the never-ending hell it had become.

When Astarte, clearly rehearsed, prompted as to *how* some fifty thousand and growing marines were expected to conquer the dangers of a foriegn and alien land Alexander grinned devilishly and even the OST marines behind him nudged each other playfully at the inside joke.

"Just look up, Miss Dubrant. See how our ladys might bend even the endless rain of this onyx gem shes delivered us and the tools shes given us to conquer anything; Be it the very forces of nature, or a world itself."

None of the refugees had been on Ereshkigal long enough to endure the near-endless rains of their new home to understand such a reprieve was unnatural. But following the gaze of the Lieutenant as he looked skyward more than a few were left speechless.

Still not completely dark they were able to bear witness to the massive construct above their head and blocking the rain like a ceiling; Appearing to all to be a massive metal ribcage on its back and large enough to fit a small stadium in its cage a form took shape as the rough framework of some massive construct was held a half-hundred meters above their heads and shielded them from the rain, Not far off to the side a second cradle lay beside it and had a near-identical construction taking place as sparks dropped down to be smothered in the cold air and bright flashes were accompanied by small moving figures on scaffoldings as their work was muffled by the ambient wind and mist muffling it.

"What... Is it?" Someone asked.

"The very first of our inheritance; The stars themselves," Astarte answered as a flash of distant lightning coincidentally skylined the clear shape of much smaller versions of the iconic visage of the colony ships once perceivable by telescope many of them were familiar with on their old world.

"For now, however," Alexander interjected as excited chatter began. "The cradles are able to construct much smaller corvettes as test-beds of ground-to-void craft until the new tower is completed and larger exploratory craft can be manufactured from the remnants of the bones of the ship still in orbit; Its material cost too valuable to leave as a simple museum piece in the sky."

Starstuck by the sight, it was easy to then corral the new recruits into one of the nearby warehouse buildings where their true induction into military life began as they were then handed off to the less coddling nature of senior sergeants and taskmasters who regimented their lives and training from then on.


-Four months later-

Well over a month past the end of their training, and induction into the ranks of the BAMF, a fireteam of some of BAMFs newest marines stalked through the subterranean tunnels in one of the nearby mountains of the Kigal range several leagues north of the shipyard and their nearly-complete ships.

Not equipped with the movement-gear of their new profession due to the sometimes cramped nature of the tunnels, each marine was decorated with the basic armor and leather gear of their basic kit and one of the variants of the Caliburn line of rifles.

What they were doing in the cavernous and ant-farm like tunnels for what was going on almost half a week was brough about on the orders of Lieutenant Alexander when a team similar to their own had been ambushed by one of the native predators of this world and two of their number dragged off into the night. The creatures; Named Barrow Fiends had become an increasing issue over the past month and douzens of their hunting packs had recently began scouring the caldera around the shipyard and stripping most anything living from the area and dragging it back entire leagues back into the hills and mountains where they were tracked like ants back to as they inhabited subterranean caverns in the hills and mountainside.

The order had come all the way from Khandar to subjugate the beasts and remove them from the equation if there was a chance that some kind of seasonal hunters would annually be swarming the valley and putting their people at risk. With the help of some Griffin gunships from Khandar to track them using IR optics, several smaller barrows and dens were found and leveled using terrifying artillery barrages to collapse their tunnels onto of the creatures; Some larger than a man that walked on all fours and had a massive crocodile-like head and mouth that was used to tear and violently thrash prey to bleed to death.

One particularly large den had been resistant to the bombardments, dug straight into the side of one of the mountains as it was. So Alexandar had dispatched almost two hundred men under his command to cordon off the area and breach the tunnel and clear it the old-fashioned way.

What followed was a week of raids as teams of marines expedition into the tunnel system and fought slogging battles against the defending creatures until they ran out of supplies or ammo. With no end in sight to the ever-expanding network of tunnels and defending and desperate inhabiting creatures, more and more teams were sent in at a time as tunnels branched off. Kept from getting lost by long guide-cables mounted at fifty-meter intervals and every junction, and too tough for the local fauna to chew through as had been a problem, one such team had spent well past the last twenty-hours in the caverns traversing ever upwards against what seemed like the last bastion of resistance as the weening creatures fought increasingly desperate against them.

Woken by boot-toes and nudges as they took their shift sleeping on their packs; Sherry, Alphaeus, Typhon, and Caelus were woken by the corporal of their fireteam.

"Time to go, you lot. Our turn to knock." She urged them up as another fireteam collapsed against the cavern wall in the particularly spacious opening in the claustrophobic tunnels they had claimed as a checkpoint and broke open rations or went straight to sleep from exhaustion as they grumbled. Switching on the several thousand lumen shoulder-mounted spotlight on her breast they all had, the corporal; One Tiamara Hel urged them all up and into a gear check as she gestured down the cavern where several light-stakes were hammered into the wall in the direction the other team had come from.

"Zuggies team says they haven't run across any of the beasties the past few hours and even says they think they felt a breeze but had to turn back or else we'd miss our turn to slog through the dark!" She grinned in a tired way that she clearly didnt feel any actual optimism from. "You lot ready to actually see the outside again or are you all going to just complain like Sherry and give me more reasons to drink?"


Khandar Military Base - Workshop

"Ye only property because you lot know for a fact you cant be trusted to pick up a kid without pulping it if ye meant to or not. Not in over a hundred years have your kind been safe to intermingle with the common rabble with your flair for dramatic episodes and hysteria. As for me, they only woke me for parades and propaganda; In a years time ill be regulated to interviews, five from then it'll be book signings, and then they shove me somewhere far off and give me a garage, a workshop, and a score of hounds as if it will make me forget the sound of a boy no more than seventeen summers being torn from his machine by one of your kind and just what you fuckers' do to just feel that ghost of a little tingle in your head you lost."

The older man said it with much less inherent rage the statement clearly should have enticed from someone so clearly passionate and prone to outburst. While he said all this, however, as if it was a passing statement, the woodsman rummaged in a nearby tool-drawer and pulled out a particularly thick moto-chain still shining with relatively fresh grease and tossed the chain to one of the nearby squires who caught the chain with a surprised oof from the weight.

"Cut it and splice it to this N-14's glade and use the wet-cutter to put some teeth on it." He ordered the squire as he and another carefully skirted around morgan, lifting her skirt occasionally in a way to get a closer look at her legs that immediately got them clucked at by one of the female squires who then joined in as they began arguing about new housing for her legs, optimal material casings, and optimizing the drive motors before they each broke off to different sets of machines and lost themselves in their tasks.

"Come back in a few hours and we'll see about installing your repairs, Unit." A senior squire affirmed at Morgan when it became clear the woodsman had once again turned his attention to the spunky redhead where he seemed to turn his ire which clearly was not exclusive to Morgan, to which the squire seemed to be relatively used to and took in stride.

"I find I am not privy to current census data, N-14." Ares inclined which immediately seemed odd considering both of them could easily access the 2nd Shock's roster outline but not anything beyond broad and unspecified general numbers. Anything beyond such as overall census or numbers that should be easily accessible were locked behind a privacy clause by the Office of Internal Affairs which hinted that the woodsman might be right about Babel wanting to start blurring the lines between the old world and the new and where starting off on a new narrative before the general populace had even been woken. Such a query, Morgan was able to notice, had already had her and Ares both flagged.

The lack of a broader connection would disavow any censuring of them from the OIA or BAMF as a whole and would naturally clear from their status. If any liquidators were active in the area the flag would have already been marked as received by them and the two of them would have received an automated order to stand down. and await further instructions.

No such order ever came. And within seconds the infraction was wiped by Ares from their designations as casually as he was brushing off his non-existant shoulder.

"Interesting." He intoned with a buzz that inclined he was sorting through other records or some kind of backdoor workaround he didnt dane to leave open for morgan to gleam in on.

"Division of power supplementary to..." He read off before going quiet and limp in a way only a decapitated head could as his unit attempted to passively reboot from a terminal disconnect.

This had not gone unnoticed by others on the Gol network as others passively began to encrypt to ensure whatever just disconnected their brother-unit temporarily with a cyber-attack did not target them as easily. Likewise the patrol patterns of the other Gol shifted to leave a wider gap than even before from Morgan and Ares to ensure no physical link could be established either.



"Thought you were sweet on him?" The woodsman asked Artemis as he casually took the cap-lid and sniffed disdainfully at the contents before throwing it back in a single go. "It matters not, pull one of the boards from the Cabbit with the broken drive circuit and see if we cant snipe on of the actuators from one of the cargo-10s next time one swings by from Atlas."

The man paused in his grumbling and worked his jaw before pulling a tiny leftover piece of plastic from inside his cheek that had clearly been floating in the thermas.

"And see Cassy in the mess about that hash, we've got the still ready she just needs to follow through on her end if we all want to stop relying on that prick for melted chemfuel in a cup."

Seemingly dismissing the junior squire, The woodsman turned from her before pausing and as his eyes began to narrow into slits it was clear he had remembered the task he had assigned her that she had so clearly trying to distract him from.


"Where is my cargo lifter, little firebrand?" The older legend of a knight loomed over her, the still suspended armored plate behind him making it clear he had tired of waiting for her to return with the jack; Looking behind her and into the dark rain it was as if he could see where she had gotten it stuck in the mud despite the several building blocking his view.

 

[Gunhand4171]

Tunnels:

Typhon was fast asleep when the corporal toed him in the ribs. He jolted up ran a hand across his face to ward off the sleep.

Looks like they were up.

The young man on the bus had bulked up since the end of basic training. The bandages that had covered his eyes were gone now as well. Burn scars marred the place his eyes used to be. Now his white cybernetic implants were visible for all to see. Quickly switching his optics into their low light setting he was able to make out the cavern they were hold up in a bit clearer.

Grabbing his kit, he meticulously geared up. Loading a fresh magazine in his marksman rifle, he stood. "Oh Lady please allow us to push through this hell hole and see the stars again." He prayed as the others finished the prep.

 

[Soresu]

"Oh, aye, aye let Cassy make de whiskey. ." Artemis began completely ignoring the reminder from her master. And then to herself, she spouted, "Lig do roinnt amaitéarach an post a dhéanamh. Ní cosúil nach ndéanfaidh sí praiseach de i gcroí croí." in scathing tones and entered a full-blown rant.

"You start with nice ah malted barley. Some add mhre in de mash and go lower than de oder bits. Add mhre barley. Never try wan av deir bottles. Complete fuckeng mess it is. You want a blend av w'eat. A bit fancy ain't it? A lot of folks go for the single type. But there's a group been making fine spirits from that. And one of those fancy barrique from what was it?"

Artemis stood there snapping her fingers to some unknown beat, "Mur...see? Marc'ell? de fuck was it?"

Despairing, the young lass looked about and caught the attention of one of the technicians. "'ey! You! Uh... Renard wasn't it?" she asked the man who was holding a heavy load in his hands.

All she got was a grunt from him, the redhead clapped her hands once. "You're from dat mars'ee place yeah?"

Another grunt and then a strained, "Marseille" he corrected and then moved on as she nodded and waved merrily.

Turning back to the two and clearing her throat, "Dat place. You get a wine finish barrel from dat place I can't pronounce " then with a smacking of her lips she carried on, "Gives dat fine fellow a hint av c'erry and if dey were saucy bastards a bit av smahke to 'er. "

Then looking to the Gol pair, and the last surviving member of the Twelve Knights she lowed her hand.

"And dat is a brief as all 'ell instruction on how to make a proper whiskey. Dere are many mhre but watch out fhr those barley hardon twats. " looking at the puss she was receiving from the Knight she clucked her tongue.

"Och, I'm on it, boss. deft and bargaineng it is! And dat little remark deir boss? About de tubs av about as fun as cancer. Plus beeng a liveng example av a new type av diabetes?"

With a smug grin she went on, "I'd rader kiss de ass av wan av those fishy Lusiad bastards. Besides 'e'd go fhr a box av donuts over me anyway."

As she walked by the Gol pair, she waved to them both, "See you later Miss Rabbit! 'nd Sir Durahan!" the red-haired squire went out into the night, a flashlight igniting and a whistled tune filled the air in passing as she did so.


----------

Sherry, the tall Qadeshi's eyes had been closed, her breathing slow and even. The first time she for genuine sleep. Being woken second to last by the nudging at the toe of her boot, the scientist stirred.

After a brief drink, and looking over her equipment. The carbine was in good shape and her Gladius had seen some use. And the thing had proven effective in some of the more narrow spaces. But at the mentions of complaints, her sapphire eyes narrowed.

"My people lived underground so this is like home to me. Except we didn't have a predatory, opportunist, and seemingly invasive species to deal with. My only complaints are about the food! Ziry iksos sīr quba." her tone defiant despite having found a rare peach tart in the dessert portion of a ration pack a couple of days ago. She had been ready to attack anyone who had dared to deny her this rare treat that wasn't some form of toaster pastry.

"Add it to the tally." the tall woman announced, what she called the woman's reasons to drink.