02-13-2017, 01:49 AM
Months ago, on Planet Nauru…
Present Day
A certain mister Ravis maneuvered his way through the tight corners of an awfully familiar-looking archaeological dig site, one hand keeping his trusty carbine shouldered while the other wafted at the thin, yet still uncomfortable layer of white smoke drifting idly in the air. By the smell of it, there was a paper fire somewhere in the cave complex, likely set by the resident Zoner research team in order to cover up their work, and he hoped they hadn’t gone and destroyed everything in anticipation of a Core raid. Anxiously picking up the pace, he covered his mouth with the sleeve of his khaki-colored, high-speed-low-drag combat shirt, the intensifying whitish-gray haze irritating his throat and lungs. Coughing down here could easily give his position away to some marauding Zoner hiding in the shadows with a radioactive twinkie, and dying definitely wasn’t something he was planning on doing anytime soon. Not down here, or like that, anyways.
Eventually, he stumbled upon the end of the winding maze of a cave: a hollowed-out cavern re-purposed into a sorting room for all sorts of artifacts. The residual layer of smoke seemed to be somewhat less intense here, the source of it being a lonely, flickering barrel fire left to burn in the corner. Tal slowly moved his left hand from his mouth back up to his carbine’s vertical foregrip, reaching a thumb up onto the weapon’s handguard to depress a duct tape-smothered pressure switch, which was hooked up to a fancy weapon light/IR laser combo. A bright cone of white light thus shot forth from the end of his rifle and he swept the room with the muzzle, ready to give any lurker two to the chest and one to the head.
To his bloodthirsty dismay, however, the room was entirely devoid of people and dead silent, bar some stray buzzing from a small oscillating fan sitting on a plastic table that someone forgot to turn off on their way out. He swept the stalactite-dotted ceiling one more time with the flashlight before assuming that it was clear, and he started forwards into a sea of white plastic tables, scanning each one with the light on his rifle. Whoever worked here did a great job of covering their tracks by the looks of it, as every single examination table had been cleared of any xeno artifacts of interest, assuming there were any in the first place, and only some pebbles and mud-encrusted tools remained.
Disappointed, Tal relaxed, letting his carbine drop to his side on its three-point sling as he sighed and rubbed his face with a gloved hand. He’d been delayed by engine problems on Yaren, buying the researchers enough to time to grab everything they could and burn the re--wait, what was that?
Out of the corner of his half-opened right eye, he saw a peculiar-looking crate, sitting smack-dab in the middle of a square formation of folding tables, and instinctively he raised and pointed his weapon at it, squeezing the life out of the pressure switch as if it’d make the light brighter and things easier to see. It was a typical black utility box labeled FRAGILE in faded white capital letters, looking not unlike a typical plastic cooler used at parties, with an olive-green cylindrical bag sitting comfortably next to it. Carefully, he crept towards it, pushing a table out of the way so that he was set to be just about right on top of it. A voice in the back of his mind told him to be mindful of any booby-traps, since there was pretty much nothing else of value in the room and nobody would just leave something valuable sitting in the open like this, but hey, at this point, he had nothing to lose, so he took up a kneel next to the box.
He drew his handy pistol from a thigh holster with his right hand, pointing it at the crate while he reached over with his left and lifted the top-mounted handle up, prying the cover off and throwing it some ways away with a loud clatter. The inside didn’t hold any kind of bomb or rabid animal, thankfully, although the layout was definitely peculiar. There were four deep rectangular cutouts that he could make out in the dim lighting of the cave, obviously intended to hold something big or bulky, and a little red thing sitting in one of the holes that he couldn’t. Quickly, he holstered his pistol and brought the carbine’s handguard back around, activating the light to reveal a chunk of red crystal still encrusted in rock. He slowly stood up from his squat, bringing his carbine out from under his arm so that he could more naturally point it at the box. He’d found something now, maybe even a valuable xeno artifact, down here, but one more question remained.
Where the hell were the other three?
Eventually, he stumbled upon the end of the winding maze of a cave: a hollowed-out cavern re-purposed into a sorting room for all sorts of artifacts. The residual layer of smoke seemed to be somewhat less intense here, the source of it being a lonely, flickering barrel fire left to burn in the corner. Tal slowly moved his left hand from his mouth back up to his carbine’s vertical foregrip, reaching a thumb up onto the weapon’s handguard to depress a duct tape-smothered pressure switch, which was hooked up to a fancy weapon light/IR laser combo. A bright cone of white light thus shot forth from the end of his rifle and he swept the room with the muzzle, ready to give any lurker two to the chest and one to the head.
To his bloodthirsty dismay, however, the room was entirely devoid of people and dead silent, bar some stray buzzing from a small oscillating fan sitting on a plastic table that someone forgot to turn off on their way out. He swept the stalactite-dotted ceiling one more time with the flashlight before assuming that it was clear, and he started forwards into a sea of white plastic tables, scanning each one with the light on his rifle. Whoever worked here did a great job of covering their tracks by the looks of it, as every single examination table had been cleared of any xeno artifacts of interest, assuming there were any in the first place, and only some pebbles and mud-encrusted tools remained.
Disappointed, Tal relaxed, letting his carbine drop to his side on its three-point sling as he sighed and rubbed his face with a gloved hand. He’d been delayed by engine problems on Yaren, buying the researchers enough to time to grab everything they could and burn the re--wait, what was that?
Out of the corner of his half-opened right eye, he saw a peculiar-looking crate, sitting smack-dab in the middle of a square formation of folding tables, and instinctively he raised and pointed his weapon at it, squeezing the life out of the pressure switch as if it’d make the light brighter and things easier to see. It was a typical black utility box labeled FRAGILE in faded white capital letters, looking not unlike a typical plastic cooler used at parties, with an olive-green cylindrical bag sitting comfortably next to it. Carefully, he crept towards it, pushing a table out of the way so that he was set to be just about right on top of it. A voice in the back of his mind told him to be mindful of any booby-traps, since there was pretty much nothing else of value in the room and nobody would just leave something valuable sitting in the open like this, but hey, at this point, he had nothing to lose, so he took up a kneel next to the box.
He drew his handy pistol from a thigh holster with his right hand, pointing it at the crate while he reached over with his left and lifted the top-mounted handle up, prying the cover off and throwing it some ways away with a loud clatter. The inside didn’t hold any kind of bomb or rabid animal, thankfully, although the layout was definitely peculiar. There were four deep rectangular cutouts that he could make out in the dim lighting of the cave, obviously intended to hold something big or bulky, and a little red thing sitting in one of the holes that he couldn’t. Quickly, he holstered his pistol and brought the carbine’s handguard back around, activating the light to reveal a chunk of red crystal still encrusted in rock. He slowly stood up from his squat, bringing his carbine out from under his arm so that he could more naturally point it at the box. He’d found something now, maybe even a valuable xeno artifact, down here, but one more question remained.
Where the hell were the other three?
Present Day
Tal sat alone and in silence at a cafe on New Tokyo, stirring idly at a milky-tan cup of iced coffee with a cute little wooden stick that was adorned with a pink parasol at the end. He didn’t normally stoop to drinking coffee, being primarily a consumer of Libertonian iced tea, but judging by the blank expression the cashier gave him when he asked for “a can of Arizona”, they didn’t have any in this joint. Instead of throwing a fit, he simply gave up and went with a small iced coffee, so he could dip out and take a seat at a corner booth before a marauding gang of ninja warriors walked in and cut his head off for being a filthy gaijin.
Sighing, he checked his watch. His associate was supposed to have been here 20 minutes ago...
Sighing, he checked his watch. His associate was supposed to have been here 20 minutes ago...