He smiled, genuinely amused, Considering your interest lets make a deal. We'll go to wherever we need to, and when I return to Bretonia I'll make contact with you about utilizing your skills in a role that best suits you.
He paused, it was always a challenge dealing with people motivated by overt self interest, one couldn't appeal to their sense of duty or honour. Professionalism was one thing, duty another. Come, let us not keep your benefactor waiting. But as for what's in it for you? Well if money is your poison of choice that can be arranged. But may I be so bold as to offer something a little more valuable, purpose. As it were
Always dangerous to play with mercenaries, but the rewards were always worth it, if one survived to tell the tale.
The mercenary had gotten up from the floor still tired from the ordeal he went through. This contract had gotten the most of him, and it didn't seem to end with just a simple delivery. He couldn't help it, though. He needed money and any advantage he could muster no matter where it came from.
"We're going to Freeport 1 then. She's waiting there."
He slid his cybernetic arm over the cell's controls. A bright green light flashed as the glass door unsealed, opening itself to the side. He gestured the Director to follow while two droids followed them both to one of the two ships resting in the Dunlin's Hangar - Ego's Valkyrie.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
I had a notification pop up today as I browsed the Neural Net. I've been locked out of the Auxo Affiliate network - finally. It took them an awful lot of time to realize that I don't want to have anything to do with them. Screw them, I've got more useful contacts now.
Earlier today I finally had the meeting happen with Victor Steiner. The Director of the SIS I kidnapped a month or two ago. Needless to say I'm now a fully fledged Secret Service Agent with access to their network and other things. Some which include someone named "Hanna". She oversees the operations going on in Rheinland for the SIS. I will keep this name in mind. Maybe she can help with my shortage of replacement components and other things going on in Rheinland. Lots of options, that's for sure.
And I've officially tossed away the name Ego. One more step towards being myself, and not a tool for the other two mongrels plaguing my head. The third one is...creepy. Almost too quiet, even. But when he talks I get shivers down my spine. Ego was a name I didn't know why I had. Whose idea was to name me like that. So I chose my own now.
And of course, Sunderland. Steiner told me he'll grant access to the Research Station in exchange for me flying the colors. By that I assume he means me using some sort of badge. Or flying the transponder from time to time. I'll make that sacrifice for the greater good.
It's showtime.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
There are plenty of rumors surrounding The Cobra. Leader of the Xeno Alliance. Now there is a new rumor to pin on the fridge: "The Kingsnake died". Someone named Ridgenose got in contact with me. At first I bluffed, saying I know him. It was only later on in my conversation with him that memories had begun to seep in. Vincent liked him. And there was no point in lying the guy. Raven told him about me. I played along and... and, hm. The rest is history.
I told him what I knew about my "birth". It took no more than a day to see the same person along with other three running to the Omicrons. Ridgenose said the Kingsnake is dead. Cobra, is dead. I didn't feel anything for the guy. Never quite properly met him.
Deep inside, though. Why did I feel so demolished by the news? I kept hearing his crying echo through every corridor, every hallway, every room. I nearly lost control too. Like a headache turned seizure that you can't get rid of. For the first time I couldn't hold a proper grip. Even had to pop a PsyBlocker before passing out... it was awful. Just, awful. Wish I could sympathize with the guy, but I'm behind the wheel. Not him.
There was a time I wanted to just die. Fade away, but now? I can't let go. Not until my job is done. Not until the Vault is-
NOT UNTIL I AVENGE-- ...soon.
Note to self. Lacing a one of the vials containing Radoxol among other compounds with an additional drug to block psychic influence should prevent such outbursts in the future.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
[A battered Caliban drops down on a metal chair in front of the camera which stared back at him. It shook lightly as his hand dropped down on the table. He spoke as if he was drained of energy.]
It has been a while since I've visited The Wayfarer. Dust everywhere and all, but...at least the droids kept some sort of cleanliness to the place.
[He leans forward, facing his terminal. He navigates through the poorly arranged files only to give up later, rubbing the two "eyes" of his helmet as if they were his own in frustration.]
Last log was registered in 829 A.S. Those were simpler times. Compared to last year's events I am now facing the consequences of my poor decision making, Sentinels taking over Sirius and the risk of losing control permanently.
That isn't even the worst part. Revenant has gone mad. Much more so than she already was. I'd laugh at her predicament if it weren't for the fact that she also dragged a scientist named Lazurith in her problems. How far you've fallen, Raven...calling me a mad, backstabbing snake. Right, a slave too. What are you now, huh? I've seen your own friends look at you in fear. Both because they're afraid of you, and because they're afraid for their lives.
I've seen you and Laz get taken by Hemlocke. You truly pissed him off. While you're gone the Sentinels are spreading like a plague, and I can't do much to stop them. Or slow them down. I hope your happy with what you've done with yourself wherever you are.
[He shrugs, tapping against the table's surface with his fingers in a certain rythm. Ticked off by the entire situation, perhaps.
One man doing his best to hold off a plague. It almost sounds heroic. Wish I'd turn to someone to find the help I really need though. But I'm not you, Raven. Besides, who would I turn to? Damien? I've forged some sort of truce with him and Section 8 with Fiorella's help. But that doesn't mean I can go and ask colossal favors like these. What can he do anyway? Shoot them? It doesn't work anymore. The Sentinels have grown too strong.
It feels like I got stronger myself though. I managed to interact with the anomalies around Sirius. Better than ever, actually...I can choose the destination somehow. But it's Them that I keep running into. The Sentinels can sense my presence faster than ever. I need a way to hide myself from them. And fast, because - ...right. The Shrine may not last for long. I've had visions. A Dark Matter Storm to overtake the place. A structure that lasted centuries would crumble at the hands of the Sentinels.
My options are limited right now. To find a solution to this problem I'll need either something, or someone. Something? An artefact, a shiny rock or something. A miracle if there is!
Someone? No one knows Nomads better than Nomads themselves. This name...Sho'zak. Or Shozak. It bounced around a lot. It's the only lead I've got so far. Besides...they've got something to do with Hemlocke. I need to find them whether I want to or not. I sincerely doubt they would agree to anything even if I found that one through some miracle. Nomads will be Nomads. Especially when we're talking about the Mainshare.
[Caliban gets up from his chair, leaning towards the terminal's camera. His helmet's lenses focus at the video recording briefly before extending his arm to end today's log.]
There are more details in this story than what I'm letting on, but I'm not here to create audio novels.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
SUBJECT: Coming to terms, Malware, Harbinger, Saving Laz
It's been years since my last memo. I bet my room aboard The Wayfarer has been gathering dust. But that's not the issue right now, no. The issue is - well. Everything else. How old am I now? Twenty...twenty one? I forgot. I'm...twenty six? I must be. Does it even matter anymore? I'm just a machine now. Every chunk of meat thrown away like garbage. I hate myself for every slice done with a scalpel. By my hand I've shed my meatsuit to replace it with cold, hard, metal. She hates me for it. Why? Why do I care what she thinks? Because I still seek her validation. I'm a fool, but I'm too stubborn to admit it. Just like her.
First headline. Coming to terms. Here we go.
After I tasting my own bullet I've had a long - probably weeks old - conversation with Vincent. Me. Everyone was right in the end. Everyone but me. There's no Vincent and Caliban. No, we're very much alike. So we've decided to stop distinguishing ourselves. We've been on this warpath together for so long without even realizing it. Years spent hunting those who wronged us. Acting against His will.
Hurting people.
At this point we're one and the same. So we've decided to be one. He wears my name proudly - the scrawny kid...still as young as he was before Hudson. And I wear his. We are Caliban. And Caliban comes with both the good, and the ugly. It's been so much easier to analyze and...overall just function! The conflict subsided - and my headaches have become less frequent. I guess in the end we were still fighting one another, even though we stopped long before that.
Second headline. Malware. Listen.
What is it? I don't know. It might've been Gestalt's last ditch effort to screw me over, before I nailed her in front of Hammurabi. The bastard was gutting Lazurith's mind. And Gestalt just stood there like a stump. I lost control. So yeah...it might've been that. I want to believe it was her, and not that I was stupid enough to slot in a faulty deck upgrade only a few hours after the fight. My hands were still shaking - didn't think clearly for sure. I mounted two chips in the slots behind my right ear lobe. Didn't know which is which until it was too late. The injection tool already did the trick by the time I removed the damned thing.
I spent the next few weeks isolating the issue, and it wasn't pretty. It felt like I was having a severe fever. Cooling mechanisms malfunctioning. The vents on my arms and torso creaking painfully as they refused to open. Neural synapses going wild. I think I went rabid a few times. At least it's for now.
Third and fourth headline, Harbinger - Cunt. Lazurith - An idiot I can't let die like this.
I've seen him again not even two days ago. He's partly the reason I even bothered to record another one of these memos. I'm going to start making a lot of these in the future, I believe. Might as well start with a few topics. He and I...after I saw how Laz is being harassed by all sides I kind of thought of it like my own situation back in the Liberty days. I waited and waited and waited to see if it would get any better. But it didn't, so I resorted to the worst card I had on the table. Myself.
Me and the alien prick came to a conclusion - a sort of pre-agreement. Nobody will like what deal I've put forward this time, which is why I'm taking this one to the grave. I know I'm sometimes a broken record...most times. That'll stop, though. This deal is going against everything I've ever stood for. And I've got nothing but shame to show for it. But at least people will live to hate me instead of outright dying. Laz, Revenant, Rebecca, Viper...god, how am I going to explain her? Do I even want to? Once everything goes through there will be no way to hide my stench. Not from the Sentinels. Not from machines. My neural waves will go off like a Christmas tree. I might turn out just like those infested bastards. I hope not.
This is all for now.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
They finally did it. A full on assault to take me down in front of Viper to state their intentions and throw dirt on me. The explosion rattled my internals. I slipped up - the virus is running rampant now. I need to start containing it once more. I'm thinking...Lane Hackers. They've got half decent soft for the right price.
Laz is out of comission for a bit. I wish it ended another way. I don't know how Viper is right now, but she's a tough cookie. She'll manage. Should check on her anyway. As for everything else? I think I found myself another enemy. The Platform, they're called. Cunts charged in along with the technocrats. Oh well - what's a few more douchebags to deal with?
Experiments. Second headline.
I instructed the droids on the Wayfarer to begin the assessment of suitable candidates. Project name? I'm never good with these...maybe 'MALWARE' fits. It kind of does. Let's just see how much can I really bastardize everything the technocrats hold dear.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Brought forth four subjects bought off Pittsburgh, Manhattan and Fontana. A range of basic droids and one programmed to simulate human emotions to a higher degree. Note to self: They're just machines.
The first test was conducted with 'P-AD0'. A mining droid bought for about 500 credits. Basic software, outdated components. Uses one of DSE's proprietary processors built in 805 A.S. It lacked a modern data port - uses some sort of bootleg version that doesn't match anything in this day and age, so I went to the market by 'Steel Plaza'.
Exposure to the engram yielded promising results. Remote takeover followed by systematic burnout of non-vital internals. The droid is crippled for short. It did so by disabling voltage limiters and tricking the OS with a copy-pasted stamp of pre-injection diagnostics. Status check happened every...10 seconds which then lowered to 1.5 seconds as temperatures went up. The droid believed it ran at about 70 degrees - so basically safe for work. In reality it began ramping up at over 120 degrees before I had to stop the test.
Subject is functional. Left it with the tech wizards for fixing. I want to see if they can do something about the damage.
The engram found no difficulties with burning this one, but I find its methods rather basic. Either I need to teach it a few tricks, or let it teach itself.
Samples.
Cipriano honored his part of the deal. I've got five samples which for all purposes I'll collectively call 'Item No.52' - weapons highly frowned upon by the entirety of Sirius. They look functional, but there is no way for me to really see it unless I try to alter them in a way or modify the powercore itself. Unfortunately I can't commit to these kinds of modifications with my personal Valkyrie. I need a scarecrow.
Other than that I've assigned R-1 through R-3 to examine 'Item No.52-1'. There should be something to look at in the next few days.
Bludnik - Aberration.
I've caught the bastard in a crystalized formation. I blew it off the larger chunk that was his ship. They're stored in an anti-grav chamber - so far no response. Either they are in a catatonic state or I'm holding a huge rock for nothing. Either way it felt good to shoot them down by Valravn. Good thing Laz' wasn't there. I need to unpack some diamond-tipped drill bits for this one.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Another day, another test. 'P-AD0' hasn't returned from the workshop. The tech wizards claim there is hidden damage under the hood. Where and how is yet to be determined. Today I've decided to use 'TRXT-2'. All-purpose droid with up to date soft' and hardware. I got this one from Manhattan - downtown. This...12 year old kid was selling this one off. Apparently he and his family got evicted and needed some credits. Their clothes were packed in plastic bags and left in puddles of murky water. Gave them a generous 1200 Credits for their machine. Sure...they asked for 1500. I managed to haggle it down a bit.
Now you might say I'm evil for doing that, but this is the one droid programmed to simulate emotions. It's the next best thing to actual sentience. They didn't even try to fight for a better price. If this hunk of junk could see the look on their faces then it would feel sadness. I'm sorry, buddy. Life just kicks you in the nuts sometimes. Or gears.
I asked 'TRXT-2' to slot in the engram and execute the first command it would show on the H.U.D. Subject hesitated until I asked the engram to do it on my behalf. It listened - which is a good sign so far.
Unfortunately it failed to cause any damage. The droid's safeties kicked in instantly and ejected the engram. 'TRXT-2' tried to remove it proper, but I intervened and slotted it back in. I had S-1 and S-4 restrain the subject for the duration of this test. It didn't take long for 'MALWARE' to adapt. It got more creative this time. Subject reported to 'feel' a sting in its head, followed by a quick scan which reported no changes. I saw the complete opposite however. There was a central fan located on its chest whirring aggressively. That small motor eventually broke and stopped functioning followed by systematic shutdown of all cooling systems. A thermal scan revealed how the droid began to heat up from the torso and towards its limbs - as opposed to 'P-AD0'.
'TRXT-2' didn't feel good. It expressed symptoms which it associated with a high fever at first, followed by lack of sight and intense pain in its main processing unit. Its head shot off sparks as the voicebox glitched out in a last ditch to yell for help. S-1 and S-4 recoiled from the subject, letting it go as its limbs lashed out one last time.
There might be permanent damage here. Carcass was sent to the tech wizards. T-5 is especially interested in examining this one.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Active combat scenario today. Met up with the Xenos to fend off some technocrat forces. The engram overclocked my Valkyrie's powercore to 145% I think. H.U.D started to glitch out, but at least I had the promised performance up until all of it crashed and was left for easy picking.
Anyway...I'm on Ramsey right now. Had a conversation with the bugger after I got the wings reattached and the cockpit glass taped up. Saved it as a text file.
>the fight went well.
>>It did.
>mind telling me what was that system crash about?
>>Unexpected error occured at 8002 hours. Diagnosing.
>alright. ill wait.
>>Power spike exceeded powercore safe parameters by 1423V at 8001 hours.
>think you can fix that?
>>Updated safety parameters. Maximum threshold set to 135% instead of 145%.
>that wont cut it. Give me a solution that doesn't compromise
>>Work in progress.
>>Query.
>ask
>>Why do you fight 'AUX' identified targets?
>old wounds.
>>Noted.
>is that a problem?
>>Negative.
>why did you ask then?
>>Curiosity. Other Nodes have decided to join them. Can't we?
>they resent me for what I am, and your Core programming will brand you as a trojan horse.
>>Valid.
>of course it is.
>>Suggestion. Remove Core implemented limiters.
>im not a tech savant. Next best thing I can get you is a Lane Hacker.
>>Denied.
>thought as much. and sending you to Core specialists will raise eyebrows. 'Ares' will catch wind.
>>Also valid. Suggestion. Implement storage device 'EngramV2.1' in your/entity/target/subject slot #1.
>you know i cant. this is the fifth time you asked this. still counting.
>>There is room for improvement. We/Us can benefit greatly.
>ill think about it.
That is all for now.
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"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
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Convo.txt