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Mentions: @Eviledd1984 - Ash Williams, @Atlantic - KITT

Rarity, despite her more reserved nature, giggled at Ash's casual return of greeting. "Well, well, my darling. I think we will get along just fine."

The mention of 'deadites' by the deadite-hunter complexed Rarity, who only heard of the concept of 'undead' through myths and silly films put on at the local theater back in Equestria. Still, given the still-unknown environs and persons gathered here, it stood to reason that at least ONE foreign world actually had the concept of undead brought to life. With that frame in mind, the unicorn acquiesced to Ash's offer to look around; Rarity also needed to do so ... if only to get away from the drafty, dreary command deck.

Starting to trot after Ash - who shortly later disappeared into the ether via the teleporter - she was stopped by the bulkhead's local talking car.

"I suppose I might as well introduce myself, Rarity. You are currently in this room with the Knight Industries 2000's Micro Processor. K.I.T.T. for short. If you prefer, you can simply call me "KITT"".

"We are in a… precarious predicament, Rarity. I have calculated various possible scenarios of what has happened to us and what could possibly happen, but I am unable to pinpoint any of them as likely. I am currently attempting to gather information by… connecting to these computer systems. If I have discovered anything of note, I will let you know".

Rarity, after a short while, nodded. "I'm sure you would be far better able to access these ... What did you call them? 'Computers'?" She snorted. "Urgh. I better leave these systems to your hooves." She stopped herself at the faux pas, hastily correcting, "Er, should I say 'tires'?"

She shook her head before giving a smile and a nod to KITT, confident that the thinking machine would be more then capable of handling itself in its self-appointed task, before disappearing in a hazy of light as she - like Ash = put herself onto the teleporter pad and followed him out.


Mentions: @Dead Cruiser - LT CDR Data (directly), Rarity and @Eviledd1984 - Ash Williams (in passing)

"Excuse me," Data's free hand went from his phaser to where the hand gripped his throat, and using his freakish machine strength, he carefully and firmly pried the man's fingers off of his neck. Once he was out of the man's grasp, he stepped back with his hands raised in a display of passivity. "I apologize if I caused you alarm; I do not mean you any harm."

The only immediate reply to the Lietenant Commander was an inhalation through the Marine's helmet's respirator before - violently tearing his wrist out of the android's hand - he retracted his blade back into his left vambrace. It was evident from the man's body language that he didn't trust this 'Data' one jot ... but he was convinced - for now - that he was no threat to him.

A shout from further down the Med Bay caught his attention; while he couldn't see the newest arrivals to the infirmary, his helmet's systems definitely registered and heard them.

"'Daemons'?" the man finally spoke aloud within earshot of Data. The voice that spat that word was a terrible, gravelly growl, full of hatred and repressed anger.

At that, the Marine turned around and began to rummage through his coffin. With a yank, he wrenched free from it a stocky UAC Combat Shotgun - one of two firearms that had been locked in there with him - and he began to load it with shells ...
Readings indicated that he was regaining consciousness, and Data attempted to communicate with him, "Excuse me sir, can you hear me? Are you in need of medical attention?" After a moment of consideration, he figured it would be safe to ask, "Are you aware of how you arrived here? Do you know who may have brought you or myself to this facility?"

@Dead Cruiser - LTCDR. Data

Even as LTCDR. Data began his tricorder scans of the coffin and its occupant, the Marine within writhed. As if struggling with unseen terrors, he thrashed about, reliving the nightmare that he had just been unhooked from in his own timeline ...


'Al amect, invegna.'

Those whispered words - uttered from three silent witnesses, beings of ancient power and authority - echoed within the Marine's mind as he found himself within the inner sanctum of the tower he had invaded. Far above him, steps rose towards a monstrous throne hewn from iron and hell-steel. And before it ...

"You bring violence and war to thwart the Dark Realm, Slayer." the being rising from the throne spat down to him. The Marine's eyes hardened, barely containing his fury, as the armoured form of Davoth - the Dark Lord of Hell itself - stalked towards the platform's edge. "But conflict was born in Hell." Red eyes, held within a face that eerily mimicked the Marine's own, bore into the Marine's gaze. "It is inevitable - a fire that fuels creation and gives purpose to where there is none."

'Not if it wielded in a fell cause, Davoth.' the Marine privately fumed, his left gauntlet balling into a fist as his right unslung a massive, double-barreled shotgun from its sling. He had done too much - forced to slay the Khan Makyr and the guardians of Urdak, brought low the Hell-Priests of the Order of Deag and suffered so much loss in his fight for humanity and his memory - to discount the truth that Davoth all-too-conveniently omitted.

The Marine snapped the break-action of his weapon shut as Davoth rocketed to the floor, massive sabatons slamming as the Dark Lord reached for the Crucible at his left side and sealed his exo-suit's visor. "STAND AND FIGHT, SLAYER," Davoth's microphone within his helm's grill boomed, red blade lancing from the activated Crucible's hand guard. "HONOUR YOUR TRUE GOD. FIGHT - AND SHOW ME YOUR PURPOSE."

The duel that began to play out within the Marine's memory was too much of a blur for him to remember clearly; all he knew was that the Dark Lord had given him his most hard-fought battle in his life. After the expense of many rounds, and having taken bruises and wounds to himself, a pause in the fighting seemed to extenuate. A brutal bunch to Davoth's breastplate had damaged and forced the armoured brute back. Yet instead of pressing the attack, Davoth collected himself, unsealed his visor and glared ruefully towards his opponent.

"For too long," Davoth seethed, collecting his dropped sword. "Have the Makyr of Urdak and your so-called 'Night Sentinel Order' kept me hobbled and imprisoned. You will not stop my vengeance!" The Dark Lord's eyes turned towards the blood-red, smoke-spewing skies. "Nor the one who betrayed me." Any brewing question the Marine had on this point was pre-empted by his foe's growl.

"Tell. Him."
"He is the first being ... and my creator. When he fell, I ascended."

At the second voice's admission, the Marine nearly choked. The Father - the 'god' proclaimed by the Makyr and their ruling mistress, the 'god' who ennobled the knights of Argent D'Nur with purpose and nobility, the being who had played no small part in the Marine's trials and tribulations - was the second being created by this vile Lord of Hell? A lesser man would have despaired at such a world-turning revelation, and truth be told, the Marine was struggling not to.

He finally shook his head. 'No. It doesn't matter now.' Having broken the action of his weapon to reload, he snapped the shotgun shut again. 'Even if I have been a pawn of beings of Hell's make all my life - even if I've been robbed of everyone I've loved and cherished by their manipulations, and after all the destruction the Khan Makyr had been complicit in - Davoth poses far worse a threat then the Ancient Ones. So I will see this through to its bloody end.'

A new-found resolve Davoth did not visibly take well, as he thrust a pointed fist towards the Marine. "They lied to you, Slayer! Immora, and its inhabitants, would have been perfect if not for the treachery of my servants. They sealed me away, usurped my power and my name! And now the time has come for a reckoning."

The red blade leaped to life again, bathing Slayer and Lord both in its crimson fire. "As all things were made by my hand, so shall they be unmade! Starting! With! You!"

Time flew by for the Slayer as the pair clashed once more. He did not know it at the time, but the pair had teleported away from Immora and were now on another world. He did not care, focusing all his rage, his grief and his iron-will to bring down the Dark Lord once and for all. Eventually, with one final blow, the battered, sparking exo-armour collapsed. Davoth's Crucible skidded a short distance as he fell, allowing the Marine a brief moment to check a particularly bad wound beneath his own armour.

Satisfied, the Marine stowed his weapons and unlatched the helm. Clear air flooded his nostrils and lungs, and the Marine cast the helmet away, striding towards the scrabbling Davoth.

The Dark Lord got a hold of his weapon again and, struggling with his damaged, failing armour, feebly lifted it towards his triumphant foe in a final gesture of rejection and defiance. Unhelmed with that final blow, the two men now met eye-to-eye; red irises filled with hatred and denied dominion, met a pair of hazel-green that reflected burning revulsion. Davoth calmly deactivated and threw his weapon away.

"Tell me ..." Davoth fumed, his tone gone from ire towards a grim acceptance of the end. "Have you nothing to say to your creator ... before you strike him down?"

Davoth's immediate reply was in the ka-chunk of the Marine readying the blade at his vambrace. Brow furrowed and a corner of his mouth baring gritted teeth, the Doom Slayer thrust home and ran his 'creator' through the sternum. The word that hissed from the Marine's lips was answer enough:


The Slayer tore the blade out, taking a pace back as the Dark Lord died. His death throes sent a shockwave of agony across the planes; unknown to the Marine, daemons that still roamed beyond the boundaries of Hell - on Earth, Mars, Urdak and beyond - were all caught in Davoth's agony. And, like their master, they all were sent screaming into the banishment of eternal oblivion.

The Marine let out the breath he had been holding as he stared down at the corpse that began to fleck into the aether. Every death he had inflicted, all the agonies he had taken and meted out, all the lies and revelations he had endured, had all come down to this one last mission. And, as he felt his own tethers on life begin to give out and his consciousness fade, he could barely see the ghostly, hooded shapes of others coalesce around him.

It was over. It was done ...


The Marine's eyes snapped open and he leaped from the coffin with a crash. Barging towards the android, a gauntlet wrapped itself around Data's 'throat' as his wrist-blade flicked out once more. The Starfleet officer's tricorder would be screaming in alarm as the Marine's vitals fluctuated wildly; fired up and with a perceived threat in front of him, the soldier-turned-demigod was clearly in no mood for idle conversation.

And yet, even as his visor began to close the gap between the two, the man made no further move to attack. Eyes fixed on Data's optical 'sensors' and a growl barely hissed through the helmet's oxygen filter. Barely legible read-outs flickered and scrolled across the man's HUD; it appeared that, far from trying to finish the officer off, the Marine was trying to identify who he was facing.

Only question now was: who would make the first move to escalate or deescalate the situation?


Mentions: Ash - @Eviledd1984, KITT - @Atlantic

Having been completely unable to make head or tail of the multitude of unmarked buttons embedded in the terminal she'd examined - and presuming that trying to 'trial and error' them was a Very Bad Idea - Rarity's scrutiny and train of thought were thrown by the newest arrival to the station. Glancing over, the pony privately admitted that, clearly-mechanical hand aside, the man was ... 'unique'.

Ash seemed to leave his half-muttered question hanging for the moment as he examined KITT. Rarity plopped back onto all fours again and trotted up to Ash, ensuring that she approached him from the front to avoid startling him.

"A question, my dear," Rarity started, holding herself aloof as she stopped before Ash. "I'm sure we're all trying to answer." She extended a forehoof to Ash, bowing her head slightly in greeting. "But forgive my rudeness; the name's Rarity. Or, if you're wanting to be formal, 'Miss Rarity' or 'Miss' will do fine."


While those stranded occupants of the Engine who had come to the Med Bay saw to their own treatment, a secluded part of the infirmary further back held a far more unusual - and terrifying - find. A squat sarcophagus, hewn out of obsidian and carved with runes in a long-dead tongue, sat amid a tangle of crunched bed framing and cast-about machinery; the flecks of carbon around its base seeming to indicate that the coffin had not been an original part of the facility or had been taken in by ordinary means.

But it was not the coffin that would instill in any finder of it dread - but the lack of its lid and the armoured form of the man inside.

The individual that lay in the recess was clad helmet-to-sabatons in a futuristic battle armour, coloured in military-green and unmarked, save for a mysterious rune above the helm's HUD visor. At his belt was the menacing iron-like form of a sword's grip and blade=guard; the blade itself seemed nowhere to found and it lacked a scabbard, but the emblem in the guard repeated the same runic device. A glance at the man's left vambrace would allow the viewer to make out what looked like a spring-loaded blade, as long as a desk ruler, and sharpened to a gleaming shine. Finally, two longarms were locked in place to the man's left and right. It was if the man had been entombed within, but dressed and given all the accruements and tools of a soldier.

As if he had been readied to fight again at a moment's notice.

The man's eyelids, closed and concealed behind the severe tint of his helmet's visor, began to flicker ...


Mentions: Astra - @XoXKieroBombXoX, KITT - @Atlantic

With her questions gone unanswered, Rarity had been forced to briefly turn her attention to one of the 'ruffians' who perturbed her with a crude comment:


"'Monster'?! Excuse me?!" Rarity boggled in outrage. "If I ever hear you call me by such again, you young rascal, I'm going to-" Unfortunately, Astra would not have been able to hear much, if anything, of Rarity's threat as the former disappeared into the teleportation system to another bulkhead. Vengeance postponed, the unicorn seethed, beginning to calm herself down once more and return to the matter at hand.

Which brought her to the bulkhead's sole vehicular occupant. Breaking into a trot alongside KITT's chassis, Rarity leaped a few times, trying to get a good look into the driver's cabin. Cars had only been a part of her homeland's infrastructure for some years; none of them were as advanced as KITT's chassis.

'Nor,' Rarity thought to herself on the next bounce. 'As gauche. Dear Celestia, half the lines on the chassis are just ... wrong! No pleasing aesthetics, a dull black colouration and what in hay are all those lights for? Certainly not to -'

She nearly tumbled to the deck again as a vital factor had stared her in the muzzle: she had missed the now-obvious fact that, however it was moving under its own power, the vehicle - which, the fashionista presumed from the computer's audio, was 'KITT' - had no driver at the controls! Landing and shaking her head Rarity decided that it would probably be better from now on in if she stopped questioning everything and everyone around her on the tiniest of quibbles .... Or, at least, tried to.

Finally arriving at one of the terminals that KITT was not blocking the others from, Rarity propped up on her hind legs to get a better view of the terminal, shortly before - bemused by the complex, indecipherable interface in front of her - she began to regret her prior curiosity.

"Twilight always had a book or two about these strange things." she commented aloud in annoyance, beginning to try and study the buttons and terminal screen in front of her.


Still hollering her lungs out as KITT practically exploded into existence on the deck - narrowly avoiding knocking her over - Rarity's panicky screams finally gave out. The unicorn fainted, collapsing onto the deck like a sack of potatoes.

Coming to, Rarity's eyes flickered open once again as the control center lit up, whirring into life. "What ..." she began, hoarse and croaky from her over-exertions. "What is this place?" She began to rise unsteadily on her hooves. "Where ... am I?"

"Systems online. Identifying unknowing individuals...

Entity Giovanni Potage.
Designation: Soup.
Universe: EE Prime. Confirmed.

Entity Asta.
Designation: Anti-Mage.
Universe: BC Prime. Confirmed.

Entity Knight Industries 2000's Micro Processor, alternatively K.I.T.T.
Designation: Spycar.
Universe: KR Prime. Confirmed.

Entity Rarity.
Designation: Magic Equine.
Universe: MLP Prime. Confirmed."

Rarity shook her head to clear her mental fogging, a forehoof rising to the side of her forehead in disbelief and bafflement. "I don't understand this. One second, I was with my friends, taking a quick trip to Las Pegasus; the next I'm ... here." She glanced left and right. "Well, wherever 'here' even is."

She trotted briskly up to the others. "And I've never seen any of you before in my life. What ... Who ...?" The incomplete question hung in the recycled air of the command deck.


Just as the others had begun to get acquainted with one another or make plans on where they were going to start with their exploration of the station, another portal popped into existence. Three-quarters the size of most of the bipeds in the bulkhead - as well as glowing an odd violet - it seemed completely out of place; not some maw of immaterial darkness, nor some bright passage spanning between worlds, but some phantasmal creation ... almost artificial.

What emerged through it, though, contrasted greatly to the many dramatis personae that populated the deck.

"... I'm telling you, darling," the perfumed, equine grande dame that emerged chattered to no-one. "You'd LOVE it in Las Pegasus. The 'City of Lights', the shopping, the fashion!" It was clear that the unicorn had no idea where she was ... or that she was talking to thin air. "Why just recently, I -"

Opening her eyes, her trail of thought and pace both screamed to a stop. The unicorn's eyes boggled out of their sockets and her voice hitched in her throat. Well-combed mane and tail alike stood on edge, her ribs heaved as panic - realising that she was nowhere in her native lands anymore - took its grip to her.

No surprise, then, when the next noise to pass her vocal chords was a sound more then a few of the new arrivals to the station would have WANTED to make on their arrival:

@Mintz Thanks, boss!
And that's my final hero (*ahem*, 'heroine') done and dusted. Expect future apps here to be on the ne'er do well side of the divide.

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