@Athol Take your time. Those moments can be very aggravating.
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So Cyne is apparently a ninja now...who could have seen this coming?
Also if you're into Warhammer 40K or looking into a humorous lore driven take of the settings, I highly recommend the "If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device" series. It is ridiculous and I highly recommend it.
If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device - Episode 1: Adorable Centurion
Also if you're into Warhammer 40K or looking into a humorous lore driven take of the settings, I highly recommend the "If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device" series. It is ridiculous and I highly recommend it.
If the Emperor had a Text-to-Speech Device - Episode 1: Adorable Centurion
Bullets and energy projectiles filled the air above Cyne's head. Within seconds, the table he claimed as cover was shot to splintering, burning shreds. Much of it hardly remained but Cyne, flatly embracing the floor, managed to avoid the majority of the deathly hail with only a handful descending shots grazing his armor and a small few direct hits being absorbed by the inner kevlar-like material of his armor. Suffice to say, he was lucky he wasn't the table.
Seconds into the firefight, a sizable portion of the mercenary platoon's attention shifted to the raging and charging mass that was Gaz after witnessing one of their own literally cut down lengthwise. The remaining grunts kept their focus on Gerad and Cyne. Cyne slowly and carefully crawled away from his degrading position, minding his own head as gunfire still whizzed by. It wasn't long until the mercs gunning for him realized that their target was no longer present, having utterly obliterated the cafeteria furnishing and no bloodied heap to be found. After the incoming gunfire subsided, Cyne, having taken up new residence behind a toppled structural beam, quickly rose from hiding and returned fire. His first shot neatly exited the head of a machinegun-wielding merc; the primary culprit responsible for suppressing Cyne before, leaving a spray of red behind its vapor trail. He took pleasure in the kill and with his second discharge, the round tore off the left arm of an unfortunate scavenger. The merc reeled back and crumbled to the shell-casing ridden floor, rolling and screaming in pain. But with so much exploding gunfire, he was silenced and but a face of churning agony.
Cyne instinctively ducked as returning fire came his way. Predicting his new position would soon be compromised and being annoyed to no end of the constant threat alerts berating him across his HUD, he deployed Pathfinder once more. This time however, the drone was shifting into a combat stance. Presenting Pathfinder with an array of hand signals, the drone dipped its frame into a nod and flew off, diving and weaving through the local debris. On his part, he tapped a switch built into his gauntlet and soon a low winding noise resonated from the center of his suit.
Within seconds, a Cyne materialized into view, breaking cover and running horizontally in the mercenaries' sights. The mercs were quick to retrain their fire at Cyne and not long after that, their gunfire homed in and struck him, causing him to abruptly lose momentum and collapse. And then his form completely vanished into thin air. The engaging mercs ceased fire and stared at the unusual scene, struggling to comprehend what had just happened and where their supposedly defeated foe had disappeared to. It was then one of the mercenaries had pieced together the grim puzzle and called out to his squad mates in panic.
"A-a hologram!" he cried, "it was just a-"
The frightened man failed to finish his sentence. It didn't help that a glowing blade of a heat-knife was sticking out the front of his neck. Fumes of cooked flesh seeped out of the puncture wound as the heat-knife cauterized the merc's thoat, burning and fusing his esophagus and wind pipe. The blade quickly retracted back the way it came and the buckling gunman reactively clutched the hole in his neck, painfully wheezing and gasping. His comrades spun around and found him squirming on the ground, further adding to their confusion. Once they had figured it out themselves, it was too late.
Another merc lost his balance as two deep cuts swiftly manifested into his unarmored thighs with emptying blood spraying across the floor in a horizontal manner. Before he could even utter a word, a large incision appeared in his chest as some invisible force effortlessly slammed him backwards into the hard ground. He quickly died as the driving momentum pierced his heart.
The three remaining mercenaries of their squad jumped back in dread, their weapons trained on an empty space with no visible opponent to shoot back at in spite. Regardless of that hopeless fact, they let loose a desperate barrage with pleading aspirations of scoring a hit on their invisible attacker. However, none of their shots struck true. They never had the moment to retreat or call for help when the empty scene flashed loudly before them. Two of them naturally flinched and the third member fell backwards with a bleeding hole in his head. Another gunshot discharged, this time briefly revealing the illuminated form of Cyne just before he claimed another victim. The last merc, finally catching a glimpse of his assailant took aim and fired. Cyne's ghostly after-image vanished once more and again, the merc claimed no hits.
The frightening moment gripped the mercenary's nerves as his startled eyes darted all over the room, oblivious to the carnage behind him as he tried to find his target. He then lost it and insisted in firing his weapon wildly in all directions in distress. His assault rifle eventually fell silent as its magazine became empty. The merc initially failed to identify this fact and when he did, his wobbly and trembling hands went for another magazine confined to his waist pouch. In that very instant, everything faded to black for the merc after a loud bang resonated briefly in his ears.
The merc fell dead and Cyne finally reappeared back into reality, holding a standing posture with his right arm extended and a smoking handgun his hand, pointed right where the merc's head was. Cyne rested his arm and holstered his sidearm just as Pathfinder zipped by and re-docked with his suit. He looked over the new mess they had created and grimly observed Gaz massacring the remaining mercenaries. One such merc, wearing the armor and uniform configuration of a field communications officer, seemingly lost all will to fight and backed away from the Fungai as it tore into his comrades. Seeing no other direction to go, he made a frantic dash back to the entryway where his unit had originated from. Cyne, twirling his knife by the circular ring at the butt-end of its handle, quickly gripped the lower handle and threw the knife into a wide vertical spinning arc toward the escaping merc. The blade found it's mark and imbedded itself into the back of the man's neck, dropping him to floor, dead as the others.
As Cyne walked over to the dead mercenary, the shifted his view to Gaz and Gerad. Unsurprisingly, Gaz had leaped into the fray, only to walk out with his lumbering form covered in blood. The still wet body fluids from the different species he'd slain today didn't mix well and turned him into a grotesque color pallet. Gerad on the other hand, remained mostly untouched. Cyne recalled the Garudin's victims wither bore large burned-out holes in their bodies or where overall charred and shrapnel ridden.
He eventually pulled the knife from the corpse from the man he killed, wiping the remaining blood off the merc's uniform. Before he could turn back to his team mates, Cyne took notice of a synthesized sound resonating from the merc's headset. Wrestling the headset off from the merc's limp form, he pressed one of the speakers to his exposed ear and listened in.
"Charlie Four to Command," a voice barked from the headset, "munitions deck secured but we're encountering stiff Hive resistance. Requesting intercept squad at the following..."
Cyne didn't need to hear anymore from the open transmission. Their original plan to capture and rig the munitions depot had just went up in smoke now that the place was now infested with not only mercs but Hive as well. Fantastic, he sarcastically thought.
Walking back to his squad, Cyne chimed into comms, "Change of plans," he reported, "just got word that the munitions deck has just become a hot zone of enemy activity. Silas, we're regrouping with you now. We'll meet you at the armory shortly."
He then faced Gerad and Gaz, "Saddle up...and I suppose take any snacks with you..."
Making their way to the armory was surprisingly uneventful. While echoes of conflict resonated around them, not a Hive abomination or a lone mercenary scout crossed their path. It was almost like walking past a sealed off stadium with a syntho-metal band blaring their music from within, only to be drowned out by many layers of concrete and steel. They eventually reached the armory, finding the doors open after its security locks were visibly breached. Walking inside, Cyne found Silas, but only Silas and no one else. Not even Macklyn's IFF was showing up on his HUD.
"Where's Macklyn?" he bluntly asked.
Silas eventually explained what had happened and Cyne went silent. Despite what they just went through, it was the case of a betrayal that caught him off guard the most. The appearance of the Hive however was a guaranteed second. While Silas and Gerad spoke on about their next direction, Cyne found himself a terminal and queried the armaments it held in stock and created a checklist of what they could steal.
Seconds into the firefight, a sizable portion of the mercenary platoon's attention shifted to the raging and charging mass that was Gaz after witnessing one of their own literally cut down lengthwise. The remaining grunts kept their focus on Gerad and Cyne. Cyne slowly and carefully crawled away from his degrading position, minding his own head as gunfire still whizzed by. It wasn't long until the mercs gunning for him realized that their target was no longer present, having utterly obliterated the cafeteria furnishing and no bloodied heap to be found. After the incoming gunfire subsided, Cyne, having taken up new residence behind a toppled structural beam, quickly rose from hiding and returned fire. His first shot neatly exited the head of a machinegun-wielding merc; the primary culprit responsible for suppressing Cyne before, leaving a spray of red behind its vapor trail. He took pleasure in the kill and with his second discharge, the round tore off the left arm of an unfortunate scavenger. The merc reeled back and crumbled to the shell-casing ridden floor, rolling and screaming in pain. But with so much exploding gunfire, he was silenced and but a face of churning agony.
Cyne instinctively ducked as returning fire came his way. Predicting his new position would soon be compromised and being annoyed to no end of the constant threat alerts berating him across his HUD, he deployed Pathfinder once more. This time however, the drone was shifting into a combat stance. Presenting Pathfinder with an array of hand signals, the drone dipped its frame into a nod and flew off, diving and weaving through the local debris. On his part, he tapped a switch built into his gauntlet and soon a low winding noise resonated from the center of his suit.
Within seconds, a Cyne materialized into view, breaking cover and running horizontally in the mercenaries' sights. The mercs were quick to retrain their fire at Cyne and not long after that, their gunfire homed in and struck him, causing him to abruptly lose momentum and collapse. And then his form completely vanished into thin air. The engaging mercs ceased fire and stared at the unusual scene, struggling to comprehend what had just happened and where their supposedly defeated foe had disappeared to. It was then one of the mercenaries had pieced together the grim puzzle and called out to his squad mates in panic.
"A-a hologram!" he cried, "it was just a-"
The frightened man failed to finish his sentence. It didn't help that a glowing blade of a heat-knife was sticking out the front of his neck. Fumes of cooked flesh seeped out of the puncture wound as the heat-knife cauterized the merc's thoat, burning and fusing his esophagus and wind pipe. The blade quickly retracted back the way it came and the buckling gunman reactively clutched the hole in his neck, painfully wheezing and gasping. His comrades spun around and found him squirming on the ground, further adding to their confusion. Once they had figured it out themselves, it was too late.
Another merc lost his balance as two deep cuts swiftly manifested into his unarmored thighs with emptying blood spraying across the floor in a horizontal manner. Before he could even utter a word, a large incision appeared in his chest as some invisible force effortlessly slammed him backwards into the hard ground. He quickly died as the driving momentum pierced his heart.
The three remaining mercenaries of their squad jumped back in dread, their weapons trained on an empty space with no visible opponent to shoot back at in spite. Regardless of that hopeless fact, they let loose a desperate barrage with pleading aspirations of scoring a hit on their invisible attacker. However, none of their shots struck true. They never had the moment to retreat or call for help when the empty scene flashed loudly before them. Two of them naturally flinched and the third member fell backwards with a bleeding hole in his head. Another gunshot discharged, this time briefly revealing the illuminated form of Cyne just before he claimed another victim. The last merc, finally catching a glimpse of his assailant took aim and fired. Cyne's ghostly after-image vanished once more and again, the merc claimed no hits.
The frightening moment gripped the mercenary's nerves as his startled eyes darted all over the room, oblivious to the carnage behind him as he tried to find his target. He then lost it and insisted in firing his weapon wildly in all directions in distress. His assault rifle eventually fell silent as its magazine became empty. The merc initially failed to identify this fact and when he did, his wobbly and trembling hands went for another magazine confined to his waist pouch. In that very instant, everything faded to black for the merc after a loud bang resonated briefly in his ears.
The merc fell dead and Cyne finally reappeared back into reality, holding a standing posture with his right arm extended and a smoking handgun his hand, pointed right where the merc's head was. Cyne rested his arm and holstered his sidearm just as Pathfinder zipped by and re-docked with his suit. He looked over the new mess they had created and grimly observed Gaz massacring the remaining mercenaries. One such merc, wearing the armor and uniform configuration of a field communications officer, seemingly lost all will to fight and backed away from the Fungai as it tore into his comrades. Seeing no other direction to go, he made a frantic dash back to the entryway where his unit had originated from. Cyne, twirling his knife by the circular ring at the butt-end of its handle, quickly gripped the lower handle and threw the knife into a wide vertical spinning arc toward the escaping merc. The blade found it's mark and imbedded itself into the back of the man's neck, dropping him to floor, dead as the others.
As Cyne walked over to the dead mercenary, the shifted his view to Gaz and Gerad. Unsurprisingly, Gaz had leaped into the fray, only to walk out with his lumbering form covered in blood. The still wet body fluids from the different species he'd slain today didn't mix well and turned him into a grotesque color pallet. Gerad on the other hand, remained mostly untouched. Cyne recalled the Garudin's victims wither bore large burned-out holes in their bodies or where overall charred and shrapnel ridden.
He eventually pulled the knife from the corpse from the man he killed, wiping the remaining blood off the merc's uniform. Before he could turn back to his team mates, Cyne took notice of a synthesized sound resonating from the merc's headset. Wrestling the headset off from the merc's limp form, he pressed one of the speakers to his exposed ear and listened in.
"Charlie Four to Command," a voice barked from the headset, "munitions deck secured but we're encountering stiff Hive resistance. Requesting intercept squad at the following..."
Cyne didn't need to hear anymore from the open transmission. Their original plan to capture and rig the munitions depot had just went up in smoke now that the place was now infested with not only mercs but Hive as well. Fantastic, he sarcastically thought.
Walking back to his squad, Cyne chimed into comms, "Change of plans," he reported, "just got word that the munitions deck has just become a hot zone of enemy activity. Silas, we're regrouping with you now. We'll meet you at the armory shortly."
He then faced Gerad and Gaz, "Saddle up...and I suppose take any snacks with you..."
Making their way to the armory was surprisingly uneventful. While echoes of conflict resonated around them, not a Hive abomination or a lone mercenary scout crossed their path. It was almost like walking past a sealed off stadium with a syntho-metal band blaring their music from within, only to be drowned out by many layers of concrete and steel. They eventually reached the armory, finding the doors open after its security locks were visibly breached. Walking inside, Cyne found Silas, but only Silas and no one else. Not even Macklyn's IFF was showing up on his HUD.
"Where's Macklyn?" he bluntly asked.
Silas eventually explained what had happened and Cyne went silent. Despite what they just went through, it was the case of a betrayal that caught him off guard the most. The appearance of the Hive however was a guaranteed second. While Silas and Gerad spoke on about their next direction, Cyne found himself a terminal and queried the armaments it held in stock and created a checklist of what they could steal.
@Athol Here's what we can do then. We'll continue on with the current scene as it is and then Gerad can bring up his plan after the firefight. Probably given newer circumstances will benefit his idea than the original one.
@Athol Seems feasible. Will he have everything he needs on hand or will this endeavor require retrieving the necessary components elsewhere on the ship? When you say 'missile drives', I think munitions.
@Athol Fascinating idea! Would work just as well. Kinda curious where he could get the resources to construct an FTL drive, a shoddy one but an FTL drive nonetheless, something that would require an obscene amount of energy to work. Unless you're thinking about using the Balrog's.
@Arthanus Your opinion and approval to alter the arc (a bit)?
@Arthanus Your opinion and approval to alter the arc (a bit)?
@Athol I am open to ideas as long as it does not conflict with any established factors. You may PM us about it if you would rather not discuss it hear and we can figure something out.
New post is up for you guys. Given the type of engagement in-progress, I'll leave you the honor of illustrating the number of opponents your OC engages and dispatches to your liking. There should be enough unlucky fellows to go around. Please let me know if you'd rather have an assigned group to take if you're stuck.
The Brute eventually managed to, angrily, bring itself into an intimidating and looming stand. However as before, it was again met with Cyne's rifle discharge and soon followed up by fire from Gerad and simultaneously riddled by Gaz's dakka gun. The large creature roared in defiance and willed itself forwards despite the sustaining fire brought against it. Unfortunately, its mighty efforts became in vane as mortality finally set upon it. Fear educing howls subsided to agonizing moans and the Brute fell forward, collapsing into a heap of meat, its last breath an escaping gurgle from its loose and crossed maw.
Cyne lowered his rifle, finally gifted the chance to breath normally now that the danger had passed. Surveying his new grotesque surroundings, it was hard to believe that where they stood was the bridge. Beneath them was a lake of wretched green and ichor and the husks of the fallen Hive abominations seemingly making up the new terrain. The remaining acid violently secreted by the torn Sploders reshaped the artificial walls and other sapient-made surfaces into toxic, rounded, and organic scenery. What was originally a commander center that governed the entire ship had quickly become a twisted and unnatural set of carnage.
He turned to Pathfinder and found the drone still connected to the Captain's personal terminal, likely harvesting any data it could capture at the Captain's authority level, the highest level of secure data that could be breached. Given the situation they stumbled in, the actual highest level of information was trapped in the depths of the R&D deck and that place was no longer their problem. With seemingly everything they came for claimed, Cyne glanced at Pathfinder and then to Gerad whom he had spied accessed one of the other consoles.
"If everyone is not dead and doesn't need carrying, I suggest we prepare to depart and ensure the house doesn't go down until after we close the front door," Cyne announced but didn't specifically address anyone in particular, "since the good Captain isn't here to make things easy for us, we'll have to improvise a proper scuttling."
Typically, setting the Balrog to self-destruct would've been far more promising and far less of a hassle than rigging the munitions to go off. But due to intelligent ship design and systematic security procedures, simply programming the ship to explode was an option that was not on the table, not without the Captain's authentication card and approval code. Such measures were established to ensure that no one other than a captain could make the fateful decision to destroy such a vital and mobile asset.
Cyne soon continued but not before eying Gerad and Pathfinder once more, "Munitions will likely have built-in safeguards surrounding the deck to prevent internal detonations from crippling the Balrog outright. We'll first need those suppression systems and structural bulkheads disengaged. For maximum effect, any maintenance shafts and ventilation routes should be exposed to our fireworks show; we need to make sure any explosive cascades that occur can reach the ship's sub-stations, so it can domino' everywhere else. We have master-control over the ship from here so let’s get this heap rigged and move out."
For awhile, he figured that while they were here, they could also manipulate the bulkheads that had auto-engaged to vent any unwelcomed obstacles out into space and perhaps even deploy more blast shields to change the available and traversable layout of the ship. The advantage could work well against the Hive but not for long against the invading mercenaries and scavengers. Once their opposition found that the Balrog's systems were being used against them, and if they were thinking on the same tactical sense that Cyne was meditating on, one of the cruisers could conduct a strike against the bridge. This not only would put them in jeopardy, but this also risked having more bulkheads engage in their path if the Balrog sustained further external damage; it was a miracle the entire vessel was still marginally intact. With the situation as it was, it was better to keep the mercs' attention glued to the Hive rather than the intruders that came before them.
Once they were done, they promptly left the bridge and made their way to the lower deck. With the isolated war between the Hive and the still-arriving mercs, many of the surrounding corridors were essentially left untouched. Every few minutes, they would run into several small and isolated packs of Swarmers scouting the untouched sections of the ship. These groups quickly dispatched, due in part to the narrow hallways that bottlenecked their attempted charges, only to be ripped to bloody shreds by concentrated fire. their quick journey eventually brought them to one of the Balrog's three cafeterias that were conveniently adjacent to one another.
As with the rooms they've seen previously before restoring power, the dining facility they arrived to was in equally bad shape. Many of the tables and seats, broken or untouched, lay overturned and scattered everywhere. Trays, utensils, and a variety of other tools and debris littered the place, nearly burying the evidence of structural battle damage and smears of red that imprinted into the floor. Many of the fabrication counters and vending machines were surprisingly in good condition still and were probably able to vend edible meals and snacks if anyone were to query for them. Of course, with their run-ins still fresh in his mind, Cyne certainly didn't have the appetite. That however didn't stop him from presenting a mock offer to his comrades.
"Anyone else feelin' hungry?"
Whatever their responses where, they were soon interrupted as a large group of mercenaries, platoon sized, quickly stormed the cafeteria. Like Cyne's squad, they too surveyed the place but it didn't take long until both side found themselves staring awkwardly at one another, "Shit," Cyne moaned as he anticipated the next phrase that was about to blurt out of the platoon leader's mouth.
"There they are! Blast them!"
Called it. Almost immediately, solid projectiles and energy bolts flew into the air, Cyne dove for one of the tipped-over table and claimed it as makeshift cover. The table was probably not even sturdy enough to absorb the incoming fire, but it nevertheless provided an extra layer in front of his wellbeing. Now that they were under fire, Cyne didn't bother to order Gerad or Gaz, especially Gaz, to return fire. It was now fight or die time against twenty-seven angry mercs before them.
Cyne lowered his rifle, finally gifted the chance to breath normally now that the danger had passed. Surveying his new grotesque surroundings, it was hard to believe that where they stood was the bridge. Beneath them was a lake of wretched green and ichor and the husks of the fallen Hive abominations seemingly making up the new terrain. The remaining acid violently secreted by the torn Sploders reshaped the artificial walls and other sapient-made surfaces into toxic, rounded, and organic scenery. What was originally a commander center that governed the entire ship had quickly become a twisted and unnatural set of carnage.
He turned to Pathfinder and found the drone still connected to the Captain's personal terminal, likely harvesting any data it could capture at the Captain's authority level, the highest level of secure data that could be breached. Given the situation they stumbled in, the actual highest level of information was trapped in the depths of the R&D deck and that place was no longer their problem. With seemingly everything they came for claimed, Cyne glanced at Pathfinder and then to Gerad whom he had spied accessed one of the other consoles.
"If everyone is not dead and doesn't need carrying, I suggest we prepare to depart and ensure the house doesn't go down until after we close the front door," Cyne announced but didn't specifically address anyone in particular, "since the good Captain isn't here to make things easy for us, we'll have to improvise a proper scuttling."
Typically, setting the Balrog to self-destruct would've been far more promising and far less of a hassle than rigging the munitions to go off. But due to intelligent ship design and systematic security procedures, simply programming the ship to explode was an option that was not on the table, not without the Captain's authentication card and approval code. Such measures were established to ensure that no one other than a captain could make the fateful decision to destroy such a vital and mobile asset.
Cyne soon continued but not before eying Gerad and Pathfinder once more, "Munitions will likely have built-in safeguards surrounding the deck to prevent internal detonations from crippling the Balrog outright. We'll first need those suppression systems and structural bulkheads disengaged. For maximum effect, any maintenance shafts and ventilation routes should be exposed to our fireworks show; we need to make sure any explosive cascades that occur can reach the ship's sub-stations, so it can domino' everywhere else. We have master-control over the ship from here so let’s get this heap rigged and move out."
For awhile, he figured that while they were here, they could also manipulate the bulkheads that had auto-engaged to vent any unwelcomed obstacles out into space and perhaps even deploy more blast shields to change the available and traversable layout of the ship. The advantage could work well against the Hive but not for long against the invading mercenaries and scavengers. Once their opposition found that the Balrog's systems were being used against them, and if they were thinking on the same tactical sense that Cyne was meditating on, one of the cruisers could conduct a strike against the bridge. This not only would put them in jeopardy, but this also risked having more bulkheads engage in their path if the Balrog sustained further external damage; it was a miracle the entire vessel was still marginally intact. With the situation as it was, it was better to keep the mercs' attention glued to the Hive rather than the intruders that came before them.
Once they were done, they promptly left the bridge and made their way to the lower deck. With the isolated war between the Hive and the still-arriving mercs, many of the surrounding corridors were essentially left untouched. Every few minutes, they would run into several small and isolated packs of Swarmers scouting the untouched sections of the ship. These groups quickly dispatched, due in part to the narrow hallways that bottlenecked their attempted charges, only to be ripped to bloody shreds by concentrated fire. their quick journey eventually brought them to one of the Balrog's three cafeterias that were conveniently adjacent to one another.
As with the rooms they've seen previously before restoring power, the dining facility they arrived to was in equally bad shape. Many of the tables and seats, broken or untouched, lay overturned and scattered everywhere. Trays, utensils, and a variety of other tools and debris littered the place, nearly burying the evidence of structural battle damage and smears of red that imprinted into the floor. Many of the fabrication counters and vending machines were surprisingly in good condition still and were probably able to vend edible meals and snacks if anyone were to query for them. Of course, with their run-ins still fresh in his mind, Cyne certainly didn't have the appetite. That however didn't stop him from presenting a mock offer to his comrades.
"Anyone else feelin' hungry?"
Whatever their responses where, they were soon interrupted as a large group of mercenaries, platoon sized, quickly stormed the cafeteria. Like Cyne's squad, they too surveyed the place but it didn't take long until both side found themselves staring awkwardly at one another, "Shit," Cyne moaned as he anticipated the next phrase that was about to blurt out of the platoon leader's mouth.
"There they are! Blast them!"
Called it. Almost immediately, solid projectiles and energy bolts flew into the air, Cyne dove for one of the tipped-over table and claimed it as makeshift cover. The table was probably not even sturdy enough to absorb the incoming fire, but it nevertheless provided an extra layer in front of his wellbeing. Now that they were under fire, Cyne didn't bother to order Gerad or Gaz, especially Gaz, to return fire. It was now fight or die time against twenty-seven angry mercs before them.
@CaptainSully My apologies. I reread it and missed that single sentence. You're good.
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