Re: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 2: Infinity Express)
09-23-2010, 12:53 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by GreyGabe.
Marcus somehow managed to keep his balance as the train lurched into motion, hissing as his bad leg took some of his weight. He holstered his pistol, and ran one hand over his head, as if to make sure it was still firmly attached to his neck. It still was, for now. Though he could think of at least one or two people… uh… entities that would probably be happy to rectify that particular oversight, given the chance. Hell, he probably deserved it. He hadn’t fired that last shot, but that didn’t mean that Dekowin’s death wasn’t on his head.
He was pissed, now. Well... more so. He didn’t have any problem with killing people, at least those that deserved it. Or those that tried to kill him. But typically he was getting paid, and typically he was choosing what jobs he took. He left the Armada so that he wouldn’t have to kill on the whims and follies of some ill-defined authority figure.
If he ever met the Monitor, he was going to pull the pin on a concussive grenade and shove it right up his/her/its favorite orifice. Dekowin would have liked that, probably.
Feeling better now that he had confronted his touchy-feely emotional bits, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. It looked like a pretty typical passenger jumper, albeit more cramped. Seats all facing what he assumed to be the front, very small overhead compartments for luggage, and of course the whole shebang smelled just like a brand new shower-curtain. Plasticy! He glanced over some of the passengers, seeing an even more motley assortment of travelers than usually flew on one of these kinds of things. There was the typical small family on vacation, Mommy, Daddy, Boy and Girl. Boy was pulling Girl’s hair while Girl was twisting Boy’s nose. Mommy looked like she was about to have some kind of attack while Daddy looked like he wanted to jump out the window. An all-around charming family tableau. They were the only humans in this car. Marcus took a little bit to stare. He had seen plenty of aliens in his time, mind, but none of them had been sentient. The Imperium’s eggheads had always said that there were probably sentient life-forms out in the galaxy, but Marcus had always thought it was a load of nonsense. Oh well, can’t be right about everything.
His curiosity about non-humans sated for the time being, he looked out a nearby window, unabashedly leaning over a young, amorous couple to see better. Not that there was much to see, mind. Just nothing, nothing, and more nothing. He leaned farther trying to see the train’s tracks. Nope. He leaned forward more, still not seeing anything. He put his hand down on an arm-rest, intending to use the leverage to lean farther. Instead, he jerked his hand back. It felt like he had just stuck his hand in a freezer! Looking down, he saw lover-boy’s arm… er… tentacle. Marcus tentatively touched it again, watching as his finger went right through it, with an unpleasant slithery, cold sensation. Ew. Marcus backed off, limping to the front of the carriage. Ahead of him was the door out, and to his left were three doors. They had little panels on the front, two reading OCCUPIED and one marked as VACANT. Marcus stopped for a second, considering, and then pushed open the door to the vacant restroom. Well, not entirely vacant after all. There was a young woman applying makeup at the mirror. Well, it was probably a woman. It was hard to tell, her being a reptile and all, but the tank-top and short skirt kind of made Marcus lean in that direction. He shrugged, pulled the door behind him closed and locked it (if someone killed him while he was taking a leak, well, gosh, would he be embarrassed!), then slipped past the lizard lady.
A moment later he emerged, feeling greatly relieved. Securely strapping the Retribution to his back, he un-holstered his shotgun, unfolding it and locking it into its operational configuration. He searched through his ammo pouches until he found his packs of “Party Crasher” cartridges. Party Crashers were cartridges packed with depleted uranium flechettes. They were marketed through the MilTek Network for use against lightly armored vehicles, combat drones, and anything else you wanted to put a whole lot of holes in. The ads never mentioned that at close range the things could pretty much vaporize organic targets in a particularly loud and messy fashion. Marcus hated the things, but always had some with him in case he needed to take care of something nasty. Like Charlie. Maybe… it was also completely possible that these things would ricochet off of Charlie like slingshot pellets. That thing was just a little more advanced than the standard-issue combat drones Marcus was familiar with. Still, worth a shot, and in these tight quarters Marcus wouldn’t even have to aim. He loaded several of the cartridges, putting some more in one of his ammo belts for easy access, and configured the shotgun for its tightest spread. It occurred to him, too, that Lloyd still had one of his pistols. Marcus wasn’t entirely sure whether this was a good thing or not. He'd just have to hope for the best.
Carefully, Marcus pushed open the front door. As he did, he put his weight on his bad leg again, which throbbed as if to say, "I'm still here!" Marcus grunted and shifted his weight off of it as much as he could. He still needed to do something about that. He could turn on the pain suppressor again after it had been off for a few minutes, but that wasn't really a solution. Maybe this train had a medical car? Probably just wishful thinking, but it was something to look for.
With a grimace, Marcus moved on to the next car, his weapon held up before him.
Marcus somehow managed to keep his balance as the train lurched into motion, hissing as his bad leg took some of his weight. He holstered his pistol, and ran one hand over his head, as if to make sure it was still firmly attached to his neck. It still was, for now. Though he could think of at least one or two people… uh… entities that would probably be happy to rectify that particular oversight, given the chance. Hell, he probably deserved it. He hadn’t fired that last shot, but that didn’t mean that Dekowin’s death wasn’t on his head.
He was pissed, now. Well... more so. He didn’t have any problem with killing people, at least those that deserved it. Or those that tried to kill him. But typically he was getting paid, and typically he was choosing what jobs he took. He left the Armada so that he wouldn’t have to kill on the whims and follies of some ill-defined authority figure.
If he ever met the Monitor, he was going to pull the pin on a concussive grenade and shove it right up his/her/its favorite orifice. Dekowin would have liked that, probably.
Feeling better now that he had confronted his touchy-feely emotional bits, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. It looked like a pretty typical passenger jumper, albeit more cramped. Seats all facing what he assumed to be the front, very small overhead compartments for luggage, and of course the whole shebang smelled just like a brand new shower-curtain. Plasticy! He glanced over some of the passengers, seeing an even more motley assortment of travelers than usually flew on one of these kinds of things. There was the typical small family on vacation, Mommy, Daddy, Boy and Girl. Boy was pulling Girl’s hair while Girl was twisting Boy’s nose. Mommy looked like she was about to have some kind of attack while Daddy looked like he wanted to jump out the window. An all-around charming family tableau. They were the only humans in this car. Marcus took a little bit to stare. He had seen plenty of aliens in his time, mind, but none of them had been sentient. The Imperium’s eggheads had always said that there were probably sentient life-forms out in the galaxy, but Marcus had always thought it was a load of nonsense. Oh well, can’t be right about everything.
His curiosity about non-humans sated for the time being, he looked out a nearby window, unabashedly leaning over a young, amorous couple to see better. Not that there was much to see, mind. Just nothing, nothing, and more nothing. He leaned farther trying to see the train’s tracks. Nope. He leaned forward more, still not seeing anything. He put his hand down on an arm-rest, intending to use the leverage to lean farther. Instead, he jerked his hand back. It felt like he had just stuck his hand in a freezer! Looking down, he saw lover-boy’s arm… er… tentacle. Marcus tentatively touched it again, watching as his finger went right through it, with an unpleasant slithery, cold sensation. Ew. Marcus backed off, limping to the front of the carriage. Ahead of him was the door out, and to his left were three doors. They had little panels on the front, two reading OCCUPIED and one marked as VACANT. Marcus stopped for a second, considering, and then pushed open the door to the vacant restroom. Well, not entirely vacant after all. There was a young woman applying makeup at the mirror. Well, it was probably a woman. It was hard to tell, her being a reptile and all, but the tank-top and short skirt kind of made Marcus lean in that direction. He shrugged, pulled the door behind him closed and locked it (if someone killed him while he was taking a leak, well, gosh, would he be embarrassed!), then slipped past the lizard lady.
A moment later he emerged, feeling greatly relieved. Securely strapping the Retribution to his back, he un-holstered his shotgun, unfolding it and locking it into its operational configuration. He searched through his ammo pouches until he found his packs of “Party Crasher” cartridges. Party Crashers were cartridges packed with depleted uranium flechettes. They were marketed through the MilTek Network for use against lightly armored vehicles, combat drones, and anything else you wanted to put a whole lot of holes in. The ads never mentioned that at close range the things could pretty much vaporize organic targets in a particularly loud and messy fashion. Marcus hated the things, but always had some with him in case he needed to take care of something nasty. Like Charlie. Maybe… it was also completely possible that these things would ricochet off of Charlie like slingshot pellets. That thing was just a little more advanced than the standard-issue combat drones Marcus was familiar with. Still, worth a shot, and in these tight quarters Marcus wouldn’t even have to aim. He loaded several of the cartridges, putting some more in one of his ammo belts for easy access, and configured the shotgun for its tightest spread. It occurred to him, too, that Lloyd still had one of his pistols. Marcus wasn’t entirely sure whether this was a good thing or not. He'd just have to hope for the best.
Carefully, Marcus pushed open the front door. As he did, he put his weight on his bad leg again, which throbbed as if to say, "I'm still here!" Marcus grunted and shifted his weight off of it as much as he could. He still needed to do something about that. He could turn on the pain suppressor again after it had been off for a few minutes, but that wasn't really a solution. Maybe this train had a medical car? Probably just wishful thinking, but it was something to look for.
With a grimace, Marcus moved on to the next car, his weapon held up before him.