[center][color=0072bc][h3]Victor "Tesla" Asimov[/h3][/color][/center]

Dim cobblestone streets were always a cold reminder to the ever present nature of captivity in a foreign place. The people and the guards were cruel towards everyone and each other. Men and women from all walks of life displaced to a dreary and meek existence of servitude and imprisonment. Their new alien overlords rarely blessed this place with their presence. Instead, sending augmented and distorted versions of our brothers and sisters to do their bidding for them.

Victor wanted nothing more than to hijack one of their space craft and upgrade all of its systems. In his daydreams he would always envision himself leaving this planet and wreaking havoc across the outlander’s worlds. But that would be a hard climb and for now the good doctor needed food and a few more mutes for his research.

This tension around the distribution center was well, as some would say you could cut it with a knife. The tall man in his ragged leather trench coat and large Grey and green back pack was quick to grab the rations for himself. Picking up a few portions of rations here and there from the unwary civilian. The predatory nature of this place was strange but easy to get accustomed too if you lacked the morals.

Victor found himself alone towards a wall and a dark alley. He was waiting for the mutes to get here, waiting to see if the grenade he put together with his last plasma cell would be enough to wipe them out, so he could harvest one or two of them. For being a human, Victor wouldn’t be considered weak. However, he is wearing a few structural supports under his coat that help him move heavier objects. At least for a little while until something gives out. Good for getting experiments back to the good doctor without having to slow down too much.

However, a commotion in the crowd drew his attention. A man standing in the crowd seemed to be having an issue with the local cyborg. All the attention seemed to move to the duo while a few others stepped up towards the Frey. The distribution center immediately went into lock down as a squad of mutes and a chicken walker approached. The bipedal autonomous robot scanned the crowd menacingly while the mutes barked at everyone to get down.

The normal civilians and even Victor himself crouched down. Most tried to sneak away unwilling to meet their maker in random crossfire. Then something incredibly strange happened, something he would have to recount to the doctor when he got back to him. Another man spoke and commanded the Mutes to kill themselves. [color=0072bc]“What the hell is wrong with Scotland?”[/color] he mumbled under his breath. Before anyone else could react, another being took out the walker with some sort of rocket. [u]“Zas the demon lord”[/u] she called herself.

Well now was his chance. The mutes were dead, the civilians were running for their lives, and the walker was down. Next the hunter killer squads would come in and raid the area. Without a second thought Victor ran toward the corpses of the mutes. Quickly going through their things and grabbing what plasma cartridges he could. He was also quick to pick up a rifle here and there taking it apart nearly immediately for parts and to disable the trackers on them. Not something one would expect but most of the weapons did have trackers on them of some kind. This was a prison after all.

At least the commotion and high volume of Civilians around was a good cover. The other supers were beginning to leave now but Victor just had to check one last place before picking up one of these dead mutes. As quickly as he could the mechanic rushed to the walker and started pulling it apart. Throwing handfuls of broken parts over his shoulder, sparks rained down below him as he used a plasma cartridge to power his ability’s. In only a few seconds he had found the two things he was looking for. A large and slightly damaged plasma core and the AI brain for the walker.

Stuffing his new treasures into his large back pack he started taking the gun off the mech when a tingle ran down his spine. A drop ship was on its way. He could feel the electricity from it. The ship was still ways off but Victor still didn’t have enough time to get the gun. But he did have enough time to lay a trap. Taking out the plasma grenade he fashioned earlier in the day he set it to go off when the mech would be moved. Grabbing one of the mutes and hefting it over his shoulder the man took a moment to look around at those who were still close by, [color=0072bc]“Drop ship incoming everyone scatter!”[/color]

He could very well be talking out his ass but it was a warning very few would stick around to find out about. With fears of questioning, capture, or execution as well as the risk of becoming a mute those who remained scattered. Victor himself ran as fast as he could with the dead mute over his shoulder into the dim alley ways and eventual sewers. Having no map and navigating by memory alone. Victor would make his way back to his friend as quickly as he could. The good doctor always likes them when they are fresh anyways.

[@LordOfTheNight]