"And don't get yourself killed." Mariya looked at the robot from which her Uncle's voice was expressing his concern, and stuck out her tongue.
"Nothing's managed to kill me yet. I'll watch out, though... for you," she finished, and signaled at Frizz to silence their communications. The robot complied, peeking its camera head around the corner on its long snake-like neck as Mariya took manual control. Looked like the way was clear here, too. "Alright guys, let's go." She slid back into the cockpit of the two-wheeled vehicle that had been sitting snuggly behind her in the shadows. With a whir the large motorcycle (or more like half of a small tank) took off down the tunnel, Frizz grabbing onto it as it passed him and let it pull him along.
They hadn't had this sort of activity in the tunnels since they'd moved in. And yet here they were, pursuing the heat signatures that the robots had been warning them of for the past week. They'd ignored them mostly, since nothing had interrupted their personal little section of the underground labyrinth. That was until what was definitely explosions and maybe the sound of a cave in a few minutes ago. The robots had become insistent that they were no longer alone in their hiding place and, determined to know what they would be up against before whatever it was found them, Mariya had set off with three of their private robotic army in tow to scout things out. "No engagements, please," Uncle had admonished her more than a couple times, and she didn't really have any plan of doing so. Without knowing how many there were, it was foolhardy; and anyway, what if they weren't trying to find them? After all, they'd been so well-hidden for so long, surely the whole thing had blown over by now...
"PEEK-A-BOO!"
Mariya brought her bike to a quick stop, peeking her head above the armored section that housed her. That had been close, and it was definitely a person, not a monster or whatever she'd been half expecting to stumble upon. She slid them covertly around a corner and stepped out, gesturing at Frizz, who came up obediently. "Uncle, did you hear that?"
After a short pause Pyotr's voicce came through quietly. "Yeah, must have been quite loud. How about you head back now, yeah? 'Peek-a-boo' isn't really the sort of thing our enemies would shout."
"Mmmmm, yeah, alright. I'll head back. We need to establish a perimeter, though, don't want them finding us either way."
"Already ahead of you: working on some trip mines of my own. When you get back you can put them up for us."
"Great. K, I'm on my way." Frizz let the communication die and returned to his position as Mariya fired up the bike once more. Well this would be fun: a perimeter, though she had suggested it, would be no fun. They'd be back to fearfully huddling in a tiny corner somewhere, too afraid to explore or stretch their legs, and probably to go up to the surface for good food. It would be nothing but Poptarts until the tunnels were repaired, probably: joy.
She wasn't expecting to find anyone on her way back. Sure, she wasn't using the same path that she'd come along, but whoever was down here was over by the Peek-a-boo call, and she certainly wasn't going that direction. And so her return pace was much faster and much less careful than it had been on her way there, and she didn't check the corner first before tearing around it and almost right into Jason and Alice. She shrieked something as she quickly swerved around them, the bike skidding along the ground past them until tearing into two parts that quickly reconfigured into two barricade-like walls, matched by Frizz to make a well-defended metal wall with minigun barrels jutting out behind which Mariya hid from whatever retaliation she expected. The middle gun spun up slightly as she inspected the two whom she'd nearly run over. One was an oddly-dressed fellow with some knives, and the other an innocent-looking little lady. Had she interrupted a mugging? Well that simply wouldn't do: she didn't particularly want to get involved with whatever was going on today, but since she was here already, and seemed to have the far-superior firepower in this situation, she figured it wouldn't hurt.
"Drop your weapons and step away from the lady!" the three robots declared in their different-timbered voices in unison.
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"As far as I know there are no mates within hearing distance. I have not made my desires plain because I do not wish for our captors to try to find me a suitable mate. I am sure that they would choose poorly." Jupiter put his head back up on the wall so he could stop trying to balance solely with his legs, and resumed looking down on his partner. Sadly the jovial atmosphere that their shouting match had created quickly disappeared as the returned to the matter of names. Jupiter let out a disgruntled noise that the translator translated as the literal word "Sigh."
"May we still discuss this? I do not wish to avoid calling you 'Iral' to disrespect you in any manner. I do not wish to call you Pho because I think that you are a food staple lacking in nutrition. Rather, how may I say this politely, I have the same concerns at heart as you do. If I pronounce your name in the same way as you do, I fear that your translator will translate it in a disparaging manner. You see, the name you wish to be called is a word in my language which references the particularly-fluid waste of space whales. So if I say 'Iral' in the way that you do: space whale diarrhea, like that, then it probably does not sound to you in the way that you wish for it to. If that is still how you wish to be referenced, though, I am perfectly capable of doing so."
After a moment of letting that sink in, but before Iral could come up with a response, Jupiter remembered the other point that he had wished to address of the parts that he'd heard of the rant. "If you wish to call me 'Tinker Bell' that is quite alright with me. 'Jupiter' is not my name, it is just what they have called me, after their name for my home planet. 'Tinker Bell' works just as well for me, but the translator has a hard time turning The One who Dances Beneath the Starry Sky in a Display of Affection Most Handsome into one word when other races try to address me. It is easier for everyone if I'm called something else."
"May we still discuss this? I do not wish to avoid calling you 'Iral' to disrespect you in any manner. I do not wish to call you Pho because I think that you are a food staple lacking in nutrition. Rather, how may I say this politely, I have the same concerns at heart as you do. If I pronounce your name in the same way as you do, I fear that your translator will translate it in a disparaging manner. You see, the name you wish to be called is a word in my language which references the particularly-fluid waste of space whales. So if I say 'Iral' in the way that you do: space whale diarrhea, like that, then it probably does not sound to you in the way that you wish for it to. If that is still how you wish to be referenced, though, I am perfectly capable of doing so."
After a moment of letting that sink in, but before Iral could come up with a response, Jupiter remembered the other point that he had wished to address of the parts that he'd heard of the rant. "If you wish to call me 'Tinker Bell' that is quite alright with me. 'Jupiter' is not my name, it is just what they have called me, after their name for my home planet. 'Tinker Bell' works just as well for me, but the translator has a hard time turning The One who Dances Beneath the Starry Sky in a Display of Affection Most Handsome into one word when other races try to address me. It is easier for everyone if I'm called something else."
His parents care not about knighthoods nor about saving America.
Sounds like the only place they'd be safe is in Soviet Russia, the COMMIES!
Sounds like the only place they'd be safe is in Soviet Russia, the COMMIES!
“Javier, one day you’re goin ta stick you head somewhere it don’t belong and you’re gonna get it blown right off. We got a robot fo checkin out suspicious tents.” Irina stepped heavily out of the subway car right behind Red and took a lazy look around.
“Place looks better with the lights on and people around.” Indeed, it was a hellish-looking introduction to New York, lit as it was by nothing but the red light of a flare. Irina lifted an arm up to turn on the flashlights on her helmet, more for her comrades’ sakes than for hers. She knew her way around Grand Central Station well enough to traverse it in her sleep, after all. She couldn’t quite tell which terminal they were at, given that they all looked roughly the same, but she’d definitely be able to help them get out.
Of course Javier needed help with some heavy lifting. He wasn’t a big guy, but he also wasn’t the most fit of them: 3 years of “cushy” captain training for the army did that to you. Sure, you learned tactics, but she’d yet to meet an army officer who came close to the physical prowess of the Marine’s she’d been stationed with. With a sigh that she didn’t broadcast, she went over and wrenched the doors open, at the last second opting not to use the exoskeleton when she heard Red’s bet. “Haha, you bet you. If you guys woulda stayed in shape you coulda done so, too. Hey Virgin, get Howard out here. I’m not as keen on getting myself killed as NC is.”
“Place looks better with the lights on and people around.” Indeed, it was a hellish-looking introduction to New York, lit as it was by nothing but the red light of a flare. Irina lifted an arm up to turn on the flashlights on her helmet, more for her comrades’ sakes than for hers. She knew her way around Grand Central Station well enough to traverse it in her sleep, after all. She couldn’t quite tell which terminal they were at, given that they all looked roughly the same, but she’d definitely be able to help them get out.
Of course Javier needed help with some heavy lifting. He wasn’t a big guy, but he also wasn’t the most fit of them: 3 years of “cushy” captain training for the army did that to you. Sure, you learned tactics, but she’d yet to meet an army officer who came close to the physical prowess of the Marine’s she’d been stationed with. With a sigh that she didn’t broadcast, she went over and wrenched the doors open, at the last second opting not to use the exoskeleton when she heard Red’s bet. “Haha, you bet you. If you guys woulda stayed in shape you coulda done so, too. Hey Virgin, get Howard out here. I’m not as keen on getting myself killed as NC is.”
Not the longest intro post but good enough for me. You turn, Virgin! :P
Just saying because typical revolvers aren't capable of being silenced: while silencers handle muzzle sound, a revolver has a second exhaust port: namely where the revolver cylinder meets the barrel. No silencer covers and silences this gap (as it would ruin the ability for the revolver to cycle rounds) and unless you're using a Nagant revolver which used special ammunition that closed this gap, then your revolver will still make a considerable racket even with a silencer attached. For silencing, a semi-automatic makes much more sense, or, better yet, a bolt action weapon as semi-automatics still have a secondary output for sound since the gas from the cartridge is used to rack the slide.
Wait wait, his revolver has a silencer? So, uh... how does that work?
Well that was quite the response to something so simple. Jupiter's expression stayed nearly the same the whole time, though he did shift again to move his head right in front of "Iral"s, widening his gaping maw. This fellow was going on and on about something to eat and trying to be loud or something. Well, Jupiter did not actually have to put up with that.
"Do you eat Terran trash? Is that-"
Suddenly Jupiter, and Iral himself, couldn't hear Iral over the tremendous noise that knocked Iral back against the wall with the pressure of a great wind. Alarms went off somewhere nearby, though no one could hear them over Jupiter's noise. It was low at first, a bassy mix that throbbed so slow and powerfully that Iral could feel the waves breaking against him, but soon the pitch rose to more understandable ranges and what it gained in frequency it also gained in volume. Standing right next to the trumpet from which the noise came, it sounded to Iral like the sound of a hundred trains in a tunnel, pounding through his ears and brain until he finished his rant and, a few moments later, Jupiter closed his maw and stopped his own noise.
Jupiter moved his head away again, and Iral responded by laughing his fool head off. Maybe the sound had knocked something loose, or maybe Iral responded to fear with hilarity, or maybe the translator had managed to pick up when Jupiter was saying, but regardless, he was laughing. That was certainly better than talking about food in Jupiter's book. Too bad it would take a while for him to get ahold of himself, and Jupiter didn't feel like interrupting again.
"I am sorry," Jupiter explained as Iral finally stopped cackling, "but you were going on about food and I was suddenly struck by the desire to call for a mate. I did not catch what it is that you were trying to say."
"Do you eat Terran trash? Is that-"
Suddenly Jupiter, and Iral himself, couldn't hear Iral over the tremendous noise that knocked Iral back against the wall with the pressure of a great wind. Alarms went off somewhere nearby, though no one could hear them over Jupiter's noise. It was low at first, a bassy mix that throbbed so slow and powerfully that Iral could feel the waves breaking against him, but soon the pitch rose to more understandable ranges and what it gained in frequency it also gained in volume. Standing right next to the trumpet from which the noise came, it sounded to Iral like the sound of a hundred trains in a tunnel, pounding through his ears and brain until he finished his rant and, a few moments later, Jupiter closed his maw and stopped his own noise.
Jupiter moved his head away again, and Iral responded by laughing his fool head off. Maybe the sound had knocked something loose, or maybe Iral responded to fear with hilarity, or maybe the translator had managed to pick up when Jupiter was saying, but regardless, he was laughing. That was certainly better than talking about food in Jupiter's book. Too bad it would take a while for him to get ahold of himself, and Jupiter didn't feel like interrupting again.
"I am sorry," Jupiter explained as Iral finally stopped cackling, "but you were going on about food and I was suddenly struck by the desire to call for a mate. I did not catch what it is that you were trying to say."
So he has a cloaking device? Sounds useful!
Bumpage!
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