DJAtomika

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

@FantasyChic Your go.

Baybridge: Halcyon Days [Superpower Roleplay/Interest Check & Advertisement]

@Mr Allen J Well if I don't get post swamped in this one, I shall be present again.

Monsoon Imminent: A Risk of Rain inspired RP (Sci-Fi Survival)

Yes. Y E S.

I love Risk of Rain.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

@FantasyChic @Insatiable piratepad.net/2nLMwuZH1f Right here.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

@FantasyChic @Insatiable You got it. We totes should do a collab.

Mass Effect: Borealis

In The Middle of some Calibrations
Hazan and Tonka
Maximillian's Gun Range

Bang!

"Just a little down and to the right."

Hazan adjusted the controls on the sight of his sniper rifle and lined up the crosshairs with the virtual target downrange. With the naked eye, the little blue holographic square was nothing more than a dot bigger than a coin. But in his sight, it filled the reticle. Several holes in the target circle made a messy constellation in the hologram. With a slow pull on the trigger, he loosed another round from his rifle that shot through the target and pinged into the sand pit behind it.

"Hmph."

"A little more to the left."

"It was just adjusted to the right. Ugh, spirits...stupid rifle."

Hazan sighed and stood from his prone position. With a weary grunt he stretched out the kinks in his back as he left his rifle on the floor.

"Fine, fuck it. I'm taking a break. This stupid thing can wait to be calibrated."

The range master, a middle aged human with some scruff on his chin and no hair on his head, nodded.

"Alright sir. Just call me when you're ready to finish up here."

He walked off, leaving the gray turian standing there with a finicky rifle and frustration building in his head.

Tonka arrived a few moments later, wearing a surprising bit of formal wear, a well-tailored but functional grey and green suit. It was certainly more rugged than what most other species would wear, and could in some cases be mistaken for casual-wear if one weren't familiar with krogan in a formal setting, which would likely qualify most people. In an ungloved hand Tonka carried a large leather briefcase, the contents of which could only be guessed at.

The krogan found Hazan a few moments later, and he ignored the stares from the other patrons at the rudamentary gun range. "You messaged for me to meet you?" he asked, looking around. "Can't say I've spent much time at one of these places. Too much time shooting at things that wouldn't mind shooting back."

"Hey Tonka, yeah I did. I kinda need your expertise in sniper rifles."

He bent down to pick up the Mantis that laid at his feet. With the barrel still pointing down range, he showed it to the big krogan.

"This thing. Old relic from my past. Thought I'd bring it out for a few test fires to see if it still works. But the sight's all sorts of screwed up, and no matter how much I tweak the distance and leveling calibrations, it doesn't shoot straight."

The krogan headed towards the bench, setting his case on the table and opening it. Another set of clothes was neatly folded, along with some kind of score card and a pen, a bag of jerky, a ticket stub and a small tool pouch. He removed the pouch, pulled out a few screw drivers and some kind of diagnostic machine, and he began to disassemble the rifle, first collapsing it, removing the power core, the ammunition block, and with an almost bored expression began laying the parts out across the table as he took them out. "My guess is it's either not shaving rounds properly, or the targeting software had a bit of a hickup. When's the last time you cleaned it?" he asked.

"Yesterday evening. I took it all apart and cleaned it spic and span. I haven't used this thing in...maybe two or three years. Been cleaning it regularly, but given my rep... I just haven't used it."

Hazan sat on a nearby chair and watched the krogan disassemble the rifle like it was a chore. He gathered that the big guy had done this with his own rifle too many times to count. He could say the same with his Mantis. He gestured with a talon to Tonka's clothes and chuckled.

"What's with the get-up, Tonka? You going to a garage later?"

"Opera, actually. Then there's a golf course. Then the supermarket. What part about my appearance made you think garage?" Tonka asked, glancing up. "And what's the point in owning a gun you never use? This thing could have been shooting people all that time and you left it collecting dust. Disappointing." he said, holding up the receiver to look through the powered-up optics, which were connected to the machine he brought out. Hitting a few buttons, he continued his part inspection.

Hazan shrugged and chuckled.

"I dunno, feels a little... Rugged? Rugged, that's the word. Bit too rugged for an opera. But hey I don't know anything about krogan culture."

He sat back as the krogan worked on his rifle.

"And yeah, well... I guess it's a keepsake? I just can't bear letting go of this bit of my past. Kinda reminds me of who I used to be before the Borealis. Who I knew and who I cared for. It's like a memory, for me."

"When you weigh two hundred kilos and have all sorts of stress points that you squishier aliens don't have to worry about, you build stuff to last. Besides, krogan design philosophy is that you should be ready for a fight even looking your best. The tissue paper you aliens get away with wouldn't last an hour on my frame." Tonka replied, snapping a few of the components back into place. "I really never understood the point of sentimental value. Why carry on to a bunch of crap from your past? When you live as long as I have, I'd have filled like five storage units of garbage I'd never look at again. Everything I own is on the ship, just the way I like it."

"I dunno. Guess it's because I've got some old debts that need clearing with that thing. Old, old debts. Like, y'know, stuff that you had to leave behind that came back to bite you in the ass. And now you gotta deal with it. That sorta thing."

"Seems like most of the people on the Borealis have some sort of baggage. So, who wants you dead?"

"Eh, my old career. I was a wanted turian on Omega, so like half the station's bounty hunters were out for my head. Well earned though, when you do enough contracts on your own to get a bounty on you. Mostly the Suns though, ever since I took one of their gunships on a drunken joyride. That was my own fault, hehe. But since then the bounties have snowballed. The Borealis was my escape, in my stupid hope that if I left the station, I'd leave everything behind."

The krogan was just about done reassembling the rifle and thinking without comment for a few moments. "What you're saying is basically if any of those bounty hunters catch up to you, the entire crew is in danger. Am I getting that right?"

"Basically. But I've got a plan to clear my name. Unfortunately it involves going back to Omega. I've got the address of the assholes who put a bounty on me. Gonna sneak in and quietly wipe my name off their lists. All of them. I talked with Dex and Vellios about this, they suggested the stealthy hacking approach. We figured that if we went in quietly, we'd get away with it without attracting attention, and more danger, in the process."

Tonka stared at Hazan, unblinking. "Probably would be a lot easier to just pay an information broker to erase your identity and give you a new one. Personally, any time I made an enemy, I dealt with it one at a time rather than letting it snowball, as you put it. Krogan aren't really keen on putting things off. Kill the people who want to kill you before they get the chance. Doesn't get much simplier. So how exactly are you planning on accessing all these so-called lists? You miss one, you miss them all." he said, snapping the last of the pieces together and activating the rifle. Stepping out to the firing line, Tonka made a few minute adjustments to the optical assembly and took a series of slow shots at the 100m mark, bringing the rifle back to the bench to work on it some more. "Still hitting a bit to the right. definitely something going on in the optics itself. Rifle's shooting consistently."

"Maybe it's because I've been using the optic as a viewfinder... Hmmh. And Dex was thinking that if the bounty board people held all their information on a central server bank, we hack that."

Hazan shrugged and sighed.

"Honestly it feels like the more I talk to you, the more I'm regretting leaving my business unfinished before I left Omega. Maybe I should've hunted down those fuckers first..."

Something cracked where Tonka's fingers were. He glanced up at Hazan and back down to it. "You didn't hear that." he said, taking a comically undersized screwdriver for his hand and working on taking apart the optics. "From the way you make it sound, you had entirely too much business and nothing resembling a deathwish. Dex knows that shit better than just about anyone, given her illustrious history digging up dirty laundry, but if anyone made a personal copy of that list, wiping it wouldn't take care of the problem." he said, thinking on it a moment. A large panel came free, exposing the wiring and circuit boards.

"So, you need a plan. What if you had Dex hack into one of the pyjaks who want you dead's personal accounts, send a message out to all interested parties that he paid an info broker a hefty sum for your whereabouts and lure as many as you can into one place. Set off a bomb, kill a bunch of them, and if a few survive, they'll always remember that going after you killed a bunch of them. Even if they don't call off the hunt or just get more pissed, they're going to be a lot more nervous about doing it." Tonka pointed out.

"Hmm... That sounds good. More like my style. Sends a pretty clear message. I like this plan more than hacking the little shits' servers." Hazan chuckled to himself as he accessed his omnitool to browse the extranet.

"I hope you bought your own Extranet access packets, because that shit isn't cheap." the krogan observed, methodically going through the connections. "You're also going to have to convince people to help you with that, and to make it worth their while. I shouldn't have to remind you we all barely know each other still. Hard to inspire loyalty without waving a big enough pay cheque."

Hazan nodded, still browsing the extranet on unrelated topics. "I know, Tonka. I'm just banking on the success of our next few missions to rack up enough dough for my own wallet to "convince" a few of us to help me."

He chuckled softly and closed his omnitool, sitting back on his bench.

"Truth be told...this is kinda the best crew I've run with so far. You guys...are pretty cool. Not like my other crews, who I've never felt safe around."

"Here, try this." Tonka replied, tossing the rifle over to Hazan carelessly. "If this lot are your barometer for 'best crew', I'd hate to hear what outfits you used to run with. I specifically signed on here because I wanted to see how bad it could it with people with no idea what the hell they're doing." the krogan grinned. "Last mission exceeded expectations."

Hazan caught the rifle in both hands and nodded. He dropped to a knee, snapped the safety off the rifle and pulled the trigger on the holo-target down range. The rifle barked and a hole appeared in the target just shy of the center, exactly where he'd been aiming. Hazan grinned and clicked the safety back on and chuckled.

"Perfect. Just the way it's always been. You're really good at this, Tonka."

The krogan shrugged non-committally. "After a couple hundred years, I'd better be good at something. You can make it up to me later if you want. Or not, I don't really care." Tonka replied, packing up his briefcase and checking his omnitool. "I'm heading back to the ship, we're dusting off in a few hours and I'd rather figure out if there's last minute shit we need done before we're booted out of the port. You coming?" he asked.

"Yup. I don't have anything to do either, so I figure I might as well get our charts in order before we leave. See you there. And yeah, I'll figure out a way to make it up to you, Tonka. Thanks."

1947 Noir Magic RP (Actual Title To be Determined)

@Zverda Hit me up fam

1947 Noir Magic RP (Actual Title To be Determined)

Interested.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Natalya Kortensky

Archadia | Shoreline

---

As soon as they hit the beach, things went to hell. The berserker, Kain, blossomed into a fiery pillar of death, attracting all the attention of the Archadian forces as the SOLDIERs and what remained of their backup reached the shore. She identified her team leader, a younger man called Corbyn, and followed right behind him as they ran into the forests, Archadian soldiers in hot pursuit.

The irony was not lost on the doctor; she'd spent the better part of her life serving with soldiers like these, the exact same men and women that were now chasing her down with the intent to kill. She couldn't let them know she was local. It just didn't sit right if they knew one of their own was amongst the intruders. Natalya made a mental note to herself to not speak a word of her native Archadian unless it was absolutely necessary, gritted her teeth and forged onward, bringing up the rear of the infiltration group.

When gunfire peppered them from the rear, the doctor spun around to respond. Her shield unfurled from her left gauntlet as she brought her machine pistol to bear on the soldiers to their rear. It spat fire and lead at the advancing troops, causing them to retreat momentarily while the rest of the SOLDIERs moved further into the forest. Eventually they lost the beach patrols and their pace slowed to a quick jog as they reached their first checkpoint within the depths of the forest.

With her helmet firmly attached to her torso rig, she could monitor everyone's vitals wirelessly. Small blue circles connected by light blue lines glowed around the middle of the others around her, marking them as allies and part of her team. The network kept them together, and it made her job of keeping them alive easier. However, something struck her as the group settled down in a thicket. Now that they were firmly entrenched in phase one, Natalya could take stock and check on the team. Other than racing hearts and fast breathing rates, the team was alright, except for one. The tall, rugged SOLDIER known as Bruce was missing, and the vitals monitor on her helmet hud showed a flat line and zero vitals. Their first casualty. In the heat of battle, they'd lost a man and they didn't even know it.

As the squad took a knee and assessed themselves, Natalya took a position next to their leader, Corbyn, as he briefed them on the journey ahead. They were to be paired up for the next leg, but upon mention of the dead man's name, she spoke up. She tapped the side of her helmet and its visor split in the middle and slid into the sides of the combat helmet, allowing her to speak freely without using the really loud in-built speakers.

"Bruce is dead, komandir - I mean, Corbyn. We must've lost him in the crash. If it calls for it, I can be our rear guard."

She shouldered her shotgun, idly adjusting her heavy combat armour. With all the gear and medical supplies she was carrying, she doubted her "expertise" at stealth was needed. The doctor sighed to herself as she adjusted her stance in the undergrowth.

"Oh spirits, this feels so weird," she muttered to herself. "Ran'she eto byl moy dom, no teper'... Ya ne tak uveren."

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Natalya Kortensky

Camp | Zalera Tundra

---

As the rest of the SOLDIERs filtered into the mess tent, Natalya took a seat next to them. Her guns, now out of their cases, were stowed safely in their housings on her combat armour. Her gloved hands were clasped round a dented, slightly worn metal mug with a carabiner hooked into the handle. Within steamed a nice piping hot serving of chicken soup from the camp's mess. Although unorthodox, soup in a cup was her idea of warm comfort food. And as the last of the group sat and began their introductions, she waited for a lull in the conversation before getting her introduction in.

"Doctor Natalya Kortensky. Archadian native. Second rank SOLDIER. Medical officer and healer. Quite a motley crew we have here, yes?"

As the others got to talking and introducing themselves, Natalya sat back in her seat and drank her soup. The other SOLDIERs...felt strange. She hadn't seen this many of her fellow comrades-in-arms since her training days, and frankly it excited her. This new mission, although strange, was going to be a true test of their abilities, both to work as a team, and their Aeons. The doctor found it rather weird, though, that they were going to be infiltrating the city she'd called a home away from home for years. Running her clinic in Nibelheim, she'd frequently gone to Archadia to pick up supplies that they needed to run things. She knew the city fairly well, but to think that they were holding a weapon in there, capable of untold destruction... It set her mind awhirl.

Then presumably their leader entered the mess tent, and a briefing commenced. They were to be split into two teams, as detailed in the dossier. She was to be part of the Infiltration team, since the Distraction team already had a medic. Already she knew her decision was going to be bad, but if the teams needed to be balanced, then by jove they would be. Natalya listened to the briefing, noting with a grim nod that their timeline had moved. With a sense of finality and purpose, the group stood, bit by bit, and filtered out of the tent. Strangely, she was the last to leave. Her gaze lingered on the horizon, in the direction that Archadia lay. This would be the last time she'd treat the city as a welcome place.

And it would be the first time she'd consider it a warzone.

---

The Canal | Shypwreck

Cold water greeted Natalya as she, or rather her Aeon, roused her from her unconsciousness. Her body ached, joints creaking and muscles sore from the crash. The Archadian doctor had used the opportunity of the flight to catch a short nap, but she'd been jolted awake by the attack. It'd left her disoriented, and when the Shyp hit the water, she'd banged her head against a wall and been knocked out. But now that she was awake, she knew that if she didn't move, she'd drown.

Her gauntlets found the straps of her harness that held her tightly against her seat and ripped them apart with ease, her strength and Alexander's melding together as she tore free from her bindings. As Carmen, their defacto leader, set to work tearing the others free, she began to help. With Carmen on one side, Natalya worked on the other, her armoured fists ripping and tearing apart the straps and harnesses that held the SOLDIERs to their chairs. Then, as Carmen found the crack in the Shyp and dove underneath the water's surface to escape, she knew what she had to do.

Natalya grabbed the nearest SOLDIER, whoever it was, and shoved them roughly towards where Carmen had dove under the roiling waves. Body after body she tore from their destroyed restraints and hurried towards their exit. With each SOLDIER that she got up and moving, their chances of surviving improved by just that little bit. And this mission needed every ounce of skill that they had. It didn't matter to her that the icy water was up to her waist, all that mattered to her was the success of the mission. Without thinking, she slapped her helmet on and engaged the seal. The lights within ignited her face in stark white as she waved those already up and moving towards their exit.

"Go, comrades! Swim for it! I will be right behind!"