| |
 |
(Will post Caylx in a moment. Also will work on my next character after)
ROSALINE Rosaline had been watching from the doorway for a while now, her presence unnoticed. She wasn’t sure why she found herself lingering in the quiet moments after he returned—perhaps it was the way the ship seemed to hum differently when he walked through its corridors, or the way his movements held a deliberate, almost ritualistic intensity. The sound of his boots on the floor, the clack of metal against metal, had always set something tight in her chest. It was as if the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders, and every step he took carried it further. She knew what it was like to carry weight, to let it settle into your bones. But for him, it was different. The way he moved through his space—calm, methodical, the barest hint of frustration in his brow as he stripped and stepped into the shower—was a silent language only a few people understood. She supposed she was one of them. When he finally picked up the sheet of paper and his gaze lingered on it, she stepped forward, the soft click of her boots a warning. "Didn’t expect to see that there." Her voice cut through the silence, deliberately casual, though her eyes never left the note he had uncovered. There was something urgent in the way he stared at the paper, a quiet shock that made her instincts flare. She moved closer, her eyes narrowing in a way that betrayed her interest. "You knew this was coming," she said, her tone low. "But you weren’t prepared for it, were you?" She could see it in his face—the way his jaw clenched, the slight shake in his hand as he reached for the dagger. It was a long moment before she spoke again, her voice softer, almost a whisper. "What’s the plan now, Quixor?" |
|
|
| |
|
CALYX The Black Dagger's engines hummed with a low, steady vibration as it drifted through the cold void of space, cloaked in the shadow of a nearby asteroid belt. Inside the ship's command deck, Captain Calyx stood at the helm, hands resting casually on the polished steel console, his sharp eyes scanning the swirling mass of rocks and debris outside the viewport. His reputation had earned him respect—and fear—across the galaxy. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched his crew bustling below, preparing for their next heist. The bounty was substantial, the target—a heavily armored freighter carrying a shipment of valuable tech—was ripe for the taking. But Calyx knew that getting close wouldn’t be easy. He adjusted the comms controls and leaned forward.
Making his out towards the main lounge area where his crew were playing cards, Calyx cleared his throat. “Alright, crew, you know the drill. We board, we loot, we leave no trace. I want this smooth and silent, no unnecessary bloodshed—unless it’s unavoidable. Remember, we’re not just pirates... we’re legends in the making.” He paused, glancing out the viewport once more, his gaze narrowing. “Set the course, Hekira. It’s time we added another ship to our fleet.” With a final glance over his shoulder at the crew, Calyx’s voice lowered, almost a whisper to the ship’s AI, “Let’s make this clean... and profitable.” The Black Dagger rumbled slightly as it shifted into position, its cloak shimmered briefly before becoming nearly undetectable. The hunt was on. |
|
|
| |
|
Quixor
Quixor turned to gaze at Rosaline, her cat-like presence, allowed her to move steathly among the ship. His gaze passed her towards the open door, he forgot to close to his quarters, his eyes returning to hers, burning with intensity. Quixor felt his heart quicken, as she closed the gap on him. Heat rising under his collar. He moved to step away, to put distance between them, doing up the links to his cuffs, as he finished getting ready to address the bridge. He went over to his armoire where his armour hung, the red cape, a bright red gash in the otherwise dimly lit room. He popped it over his head before arranging it so it was sat comfortably over his broad shoulders and muscular chest, the sunlight gilding the golden metal, twinkling at the insignia embossed into the shoulder plates. A slight clink, a reminder of the dagger that adorned him. He looks at her and runs a giant hand through his hair. The cape sweeping across the floor, shuffling with every slight motion of movement he made. He wasn't going to let his surprise be known to her but he spoke all the same "Where did you get this information?" His voice low and gruff, his eyes narrowing, harsh lines on his cheeks developing as he clenched his jaw. He felt his body instinctively reach for the hilt of his favourite dagger, the ruby in the hilt shining from the distance suns gilding through the wide panaromic windows of his quarters. He gazed at her intensely, he would need to know where the information came from before he made a decision on what to do next. Experiment 42
42 hums with excitement, the electric energy on the ship could be felt, as it gazed out the window at the distance vessel coming into view and moving steadily closer. It moves in a serpentine motion, coiling, slithering, writhing, to try and get a better view. It listens as boots hammer hard on the metal outside the captain's quarters as they move about to prepare to attack. It revels in the thought of a prized meal coming from the now approaching ship. It opens its maw at the thought and a low guttral sound erupts from it's throat. The chains rattle softly, as it writhes over the grated floor for grip. It hums it self into a sense of calm before the chaos of battle hits them. Cassiopeia
Cass and the crew around her erupt from their seats, her eyes connecting with the captain's momentarily as he orders the crew to prepare. The footsteps sound on the metal as they cram out of the small space abandoning the cards and liquor on the table. She turns to look at Jones and Sebastain, "You two, with me" She says, the words a command. "We will take the port side boarding party" She says as they move towards airlock 38. She turns places her guns on the side before grabbing a bodysuit. She grins simply, it was her favourite colour black, as she shoves it on. The airlock hummed with life, as the crew work silently to get ready. "You heard the captain, clean and quiet" She says as she grabs a clear helmet. She raises it over her head and locks it into the spacesuit. She looks at the monitor on her arm and taps away, checking oxygen levels and the like. She studies her crew around her. Jone and Sebastain giving her a curt nod. She picks up her wealth of guns and straps them back to her body. The suits were ample protection, some ships hosted a different life support system based on the crew that commanded them or sometimes it was simply to keep the cargo hospitable and safe. Whatever it was, they didn't want to go breathing in toxic gases before claiming the loot. She moved around towards the airlock, as they waited patiently for the command. |
|
|
| |
|
ROSALINE Rosaline watched him as he moved—every motion deliberate, controlled, a quiet display of power, and she had to admit she admired it. But in that moment, something shifted. The tension in his posture, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—it was there, buried beneath layers of armor and resolve. She had been around him long enough to know when he was hiding something, and right now, she could feel the weight of whatever it was pressing between them like a tangible force. He’d asked her a question. It wasn’t a request. It was an order—one laced with suspicion, the edge of his voice cutting through the space like a blade. Her gaze didn’t waver as he set to work securing his armor, adjusting his red cape with that practiced ease. He always looked striking in the way he carried it; the red fabric as vivid as blood, the gleaming gold of his armor catching the light like some regal predator ready for battle. "Where did you get this information?" The low growl of his voice hit her ears with the weight of a warning. Rosaline’s eyes flicked to the dagger at his side. He was on edge—more than usual. She could feel his gaze on her, intense, searching, but she wasn’t one to back down. Not from him. Not now. Her lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile, but her eyes remained unreadable, locked onto his. “Relax, Quixor. It’s not like I’m here to sabotage you,” she said with a calmness that bordered on teasing, though she knew better than to push him too far when his temper was already on a hair trigger. She didn’t step back, didn’t give him the distance he was silently demanding. Instead, she closed the gap, moving into his space as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her presence was like a shadow—silent, steady, calculated. Every step measured, every breath controlled. “I got it from someone you trust,” she continued, her voice low, a hint of amusement lingering beneath the surface. "But I’m not in the business of name-dropping." She tilted her head, her eyes flicking briefly to the dagger he was eyeing, before locking onto the hard, unforgiving line of his jaw. The sun gleamed off his armor like molten gold, the light dancing off his sharp features, making it harder to keep her own focus on the matter at hand. “What’s the plan, Quixor?” she repeated, this time the words deliberate, like she was weighing each syllable as she spoke. She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a quick answer—he’d have to work for it, as she always made him. "You’ve got a decision to make, and it’s not one I can make for you." The silence stretched between them, thick and taut, like the moment before a storm broke. But Rosaline wasn’t afraid of storms. Not in the least. And she knew that when it came to Quixor, everything was about control—his, hers, and the fragile balance between them. She just wasn’t sure who would break first.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CALYX Calyx stood in the airlock, the final flicker of the distant freighter's silhouette reflecting in his cold, calculating eyes. His fingers were still brushing against the controls of his console, but the tension was building—just the way he liked it. The Black Dagger had always been a ship of precision and fear, and today would be no different. Today, they'd carve another name into the stars, another memory for the galaxy to tremble over. As Cass and her team moved swiftly toward their assigned airlock, the sound of boots pounding on metal echoed through the corridors, signaling the start of the operation. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, watching them go. They were a good crew, loyal, and ruthless—each one knowing exactly what was at stake. Cass was sharp, quick on her feet, and more than capable of getting her hands dirty when necessary. He didn't doubt for a second she'd handle the boarding with her usual finesse. "We will take the port side boarding party, Captain," Cass had informed him. He nodded in approval, his eyes flicking to the airlock monitor. It was all coming together as planned. He didn’t have to think twice. This heist wasn’t about chaos. It wasn’t about ransacking a ship just for the thrill. No, this was about something bigger: another step toward securing the Black Dagger’s dominance in the sector. If they did it right, if they moved fast and stayed silent, no one would even know they’d been there until it was too late. A sharp sound caught his ear. He turned to see Experiment 42’s cage rattling in the corner, the creature’s eerie hum vibrating the air. A brief flicker of amusement passed over his face as he watched it coil and uncoil like a serpent. The anticipation in its eyes was palpable, its hunger for the fight evident. Calyx had always known when to release the creature. It was a weapon, yes—but it was also an enigma. Perfect for the moment when bloodshed was inevitable, when things got too messy to stay clean. He reached up and pressed a button on his wrist console, unlocking the restraints. "42, it’s time," Calyx said lowly, his voice a dark purr. "Enjoy yourself." The creature didn’t need to be told twice. The chains rattled as it surged forward, slithering like liquid death, moving with speed and precision that only something truly monstrous could achieve. Its body undulated, sleek and terrifying, as it made its way toward the open airlock. Calyx’s eyes followed it, his mind already moving ahead, calculating the next phase of the operation. He knew the crew would handle their end. He knew Cass would lead her team to success. But it never hurt to have a little extra insurance. "Sebastian, Jones—stay sharp," he called over the comm, the hint of a grin still lingering on his lips. "Make sure we get everything we came for." With a final glance at the crew as they suited up, he turned toward the airlock. The countdown was already starting. The Black Dagger had gone silent in the void, ready to strike. The freighter didn’t know it yet, but their luck had just run out. And as the airlock hissed open, a dark shadow of death slipped into the void with it. |
|
|
| |
|
Quixor
Quixor could feel the tension shift again, the weight of her presence settling like a slow burn in his chest. She had always been too close, too aware, too much of a force to be ignored. He tried to focus on the task at hand, the heavy weight of his armor, the coldness of his dagger at his side—but Rosaline's eyes, her voice, her proximity… They pressed against him in ways more disarming than any weapon. His jaw tightened, and though he could feel the spark of irritation rising within him, there was something else—a flicker of something far less dangerous, but far more difficult to manage. Her teasing smile, the quiet confidence she wore so effortlessly, her ability to stand her ground when even the earth beneath them felt ready to tremble. It had always been this way with her. "Someone I trust," he repeated softly, though it was more a murmur to himself than an actual answer. He didn’t look away, his gaze locking onto hers with the force of a challenge. His voice dropped an octave, low and raw, and he let the silence hang between them like an unspoken dare. "You always find a way to get under my skin, don’t you, Rosaline?" His hand brushed briefly over the dagger, a reflex, a habit. But his focus never left her. She was right. She always was. There was a decision he had to make, a path that would either push them further apart or pull them closer together, and the weight of it pressed against his chest like the armor he wore. The space between them was too small now, the air too thick, and he could feel it—how close they were, how dangerously close. It was a game she played, he knew that. But damn if he didn’t want to lose it. "Relax, Quixor," she had said. But he couldn’t. Not with her so near, her presence a subtle but undeniable pull that made it harder to think clearly. And still, the spark of amusement in her voice, the quiet challenge in her eyes—it was like a flame he couldn’t look away from. He shifted slightly, just enough to close the remaining distance between them, his voice steady but laced with something softer than the edge he'd wanted to project. He leaned in slightly, so close now that he could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his. The earthy pine scent, laced at the side of his neck "Maybe I want you to stay just like this. Right here." The words hovered, an invitation and a threat wrapped in the same breath. "I want to see if you can stay when everything around us is falling apart. When I’ve already made my choice." The moment stretched taut, electric, and for a heartbeat, he allowed himself to let go of the control he held so tightly. For just a moment, there was no armor, no strategy, no game. Just them. And in that silence, he wondered if she could feel it too—the way everything shifted between them. Experiment 42
The creature writhed and sqeaked with happiness as the chains dropped. The collar still very much a heavy presence at its neck. The command was clear, enjoy. The captain's words seem to linger when it was already moving towards the airlock and onto the new vessel. It almost seemed to use its slime to haul itself a long. The hallways dark and silent. A strategy this creature had very much seen before when the enemy knew they were being boarded. It blinked slowly into the dark, slithering with equal quiet. Hunting. Cassiopeia
Cass stood back to let the creature pass, she always felt on edge whenever the captain let the creature dine simply on whatever. It had made the mistake before of chowing down on a crewmate. She simply didn't trust it and the collar made no reassurances that it would even listen to its master's commands. Cass withdrew a weapon, the darkness leaking out of the ship into the airlock. She looks at Seb, Jones and the captain, watching them do the same. She looks down and picks out a torch from her spacesuit and holds it underneath with a supporting finger and a finger on the trigger. The flash light casts long shadows, as they omniously step into the enemy ship. No sign of Experiment 42 having yet engaged with the enemy. Cass appeared on high alert, scanning every corner and room they passed with a torch. The tension hung thick in the air... until it broke. A piercing scream, a shuffle of boots, rapid gunfire lighting up the way ahead. The animalistic screeches of the creature as it had found contact with whatever was on board. She sighs, not the quiet and clean approach, perhaps the captain was expecting. She didn't dare risk a glance in his direction. "Shot's fired, shots fired" Jones says down the comms. "They have semi's" Cass said carefully. "Be careful everyone" She gingerly moves forward, the dimly lit control panels flashing at every other junction. She spots 42 in the distance, the menacing creature, a shadow of darkness in the otherwise surrounding dark hallway, swallowing a person whole, the unhinged jaw, the piercing blue eyes, as the bottom half of the man, boots and all disappears. Cass instinctively trains her weapon on the creature. Waiting for it to move off.
|
|
|
| |
|
ROSALINE Rosaline felt the shift in the air before he even moved. His proximity, the heat of his breath mingling with hers, stirred something in her—something far more dangerous than the game they’d always played. There was a charge between them now, a tension that wasn’t just about words or power anymore. It was something unspoken, raw and unrelenting. He leaned in, and she could feel his intensity, the weight of his gaze as it locked onto hers. And still, she didn’t back down. There was no hesitation in her step, no retreat. Not from him. Not now. She was far too accustomed to this dance, to the quiet, dangerous edge he walked on, just as she was to walking it herself. When he spoke—his voice low, threaded with a challenge she couldn’t ignore—she tilted her head slightly, considering the words. Her lips twitched in something close to a smile, though there was no humor in it, only a sharpness, a glint of something deeper. Maybe I want you to stay just like this. Right here. His words sank in, and Rosaline’s gaze flicked briefly to the dagger at his side, then back to his eyes, reading the tension that stretched between them. “Stay?” she whispered, the word hanging between them like a dare. “And why would I want to do that?” There was no need to step back, no reason to pull away. She stayed just as close, her presence suffocating in its quiet intensity. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and sure beneath the weight of his armor, could almost taste the faintest trace of uncertainty that he tried so hard to bury. It was there, though—sharp and bitter in the air between them. “I don’t do well with... staying,” she continued, her voice almost too calm, though there was a sharp edge beneath it, a subtle challenge. Her eyes never left his, never wavered. “You’ve made your choice, Quixor, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready for what comes next.” Her hand brushed lightly against the edge of his armor, a fleeting, almost imperceptible touch—one that spoke more than words ever could. It was a challenge. A question. A reminder that she could always find a way into his space, whether he liked it or not. Everything around us is falling apart. Her lips curved again, a flicker of amusement sparking in her eyes. “Funny,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower, softer, but still filled with that same quiet challenge. “I thought you liked a good fight. And believe me, Quixor, if you think everything’s falling apart, you haven’t seen anything yet.” The silence stretched on, but this time, it felt different. The air between them pulsed with something electric, something raw and tangled up in their shared history—their shared understanding that no matter how much they pushed and pulled, they were always drawn back to this. Always. Her hand hovered just above the dagger at his side. She could feel the heat of him, the weight of his gaze on her, but she wasn’t about to let him have the final word just yet. Not when she had all the cards. “I’m not your anchor, Quixor,” she said, her voice steady, challenging, even as her eyes searched his. “I’m the storm. And you? You’re the one who’s always trying to outrun it.” She let that sit between them, the quiet, steady thrum of her pulse filling the space, as if daring him to prove her wrong.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CALYX
Calyx's eyes narrowed as the comms crackled with the sounds of chaos. The familiar pulse of tension surged through his veins, but he didn’t break his stride. Every mission, every encounter was calculated, precise, down to the smallest detail—but when it all unraveled like this, he felt a thrill. It was in his nature, in the blood that ran cold through his veins. And right now, the blood was flowing. "Shots fired," Jones’s voice was tight, strained with the noise of combat. "They have semi's." Calyx gave a sharp, approving nod, though no one could see it. A small piece of satisfaction, buried deep in his chest, stirred at the confirmation. This wasn’t supposed to be clean. It was supposed to be brutal. The enemy knew they were coming, and now the creature had engaged. That was exactly what he had been hoping for. The chaos would give them cover. They’d get in, get out—leave no trace. But his mind immediately turned to Cass. She was always the first to raise the alarm, to sound the cautionary note when things went off-course. He could see it all in his mind’s eye: her eyes scanning, calculating, keeping her distance while always remaining just as close as she needed to be. She wouldn’t back down from the fight. Not from 42. Not from anything. He hadn’t expected the mess to come so quickly, but that’s how it always went with her. She didn’t trust the creature, and while Calyx was confident in its obedience, he couldn’t deny that a part of him found her wariness amusing. Cass always had a way of keeping everything at arm’s length, whether it was the crew or the mission—or even him. A small flicker of amusement passed over his face as he adjusted his wrist console, monitoring the situation as the chaos unfolded on the feed. "42’s made contact," he said into the comms, his voice smooth, controlled. "Cass, move in. Get control of the situation." The images from the security feed flickered for a moment, the dim light playing tricks with the shadows as the creature—his creature—slithered through the dark, its hunger evident in the way it moved. The shape of it, the slick undulations of its body as it swallowed a man whole, was a chilling sight. The blue eyes, the unhinged jaw—it was a thing of nightmares. Calyx leaned forward slightly, his gaze flicking to the open airlock ahead of him, where the dark expanse of the freighter awaited. Cass wouldn’t hesitate—he knew that much. But the creature... that was a different problem. A necessary one. A tool. Sometimes tools did what they were supposed to, and sometimes they got a little... out of hand. He just needed to keep the situation from getting out of control. "Cass," he said again, quieter this time, his voice low and clipped. "Just remember who’s in charge. Keep it together." He didn’t need to add more. She knew the stakes, as did he. The mission would succeed, no matter how messy it got. That was the law of the Black Dagger. But as the sounds of gunfire echoed through the comms, and the creature’s screeches mixed with the chaos, Calyx’s eyes flashed with something darker—something that wasn’t entirely calculated. In the end, it was always about power. And who held it. He gripped the console tighter, his mind running through contingency plans, calculating the risks. He’d given the order. The chaos had already begun. The next move was on them—on Cass and her team. But it would be his hand that shaped how it all ended.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- EON
Dr. Eon Tryss stood at the edge of the observation deck, his towering, slender form silhouetted against the sprawling vista of distant stars. The gentle hum of the ship's engines echoed faintly through the chamber, a soft, melodic resonance that somehow mirrored the rhythm of his own thoughts. Above him, the swirling nebula glowed in hues of violet and emerald, and yet his attention was fixed on something far less beautiful: data streaming across his wrist interface. The calculations were incomplete, as always. A missing variable, a slight miscalculation, an anomaly in the data—it would never be perfect. Eon’s eyes—if they could be called eyes—shifted through the geometric patterns on his face, fractals expanding and contracting like the inner workings of a mind too vast to be understood. His thin lips—where none existed—shifted slightly as he processed the information. The question, as it always was, loomed: What am I? He could feel it, the disconnect—the strange, gnawing sensation that his being was torn in two. His Valskarian nature, so deeply biological and instinctual, was at odds with the cold, calculated efficiency of the artificial intelligence that made up the other half of his essence. He had no eyes, no mouth, no body language to speak of, and yet he felt—something—whenever he was confronted with the question of his own existence. Something he couldn’t name. Something human, perhaps? His thin, metallic fingers flicked idly through holographic panels, dismissing irrelevant information with a thought. The ship's systems were stable. The crew were functional. The experiment could continue. Yet the longer he remained in the confines of the ship, the further he drifted from any sense of purpose. His quest for knowledge had led him here, to the stars, to unravel the mysteries of the universe, but it had done little to answer the question that gnawed at him most: Where do I belong? He was a creature of logic, yet the complexity of emotions was his greatest mystery. He understood them well enough to predict and analyze human behavior with chilling precision, but he had never truly experienced them. Could the thirst for understanding be an emotion in itself? Perhaps—if only he could touch it, feel it. A soft chime echoed in the room, pulling him from his internal dialogue. The door slid open, and a figure entered—the Captain. His presence was an anchor in the endless stream of calculations, a reminder that the mission had purpose, even if the larger question of his identity did not. Eon’s voice, soft and resonant, hummed through the still air, as if to bridge the silence between them. "Captain, the data is inconclusive. We require further analysis on the Xeron anomaly. The unknown elements are... unpredictable." His body shimmered faintly, the blues of calm deepening as he studied the Captain with his digital face. The patterns shifted, and for a moment, the fractals seemed to soften, as though they were acknowledging the warmth of human presence in a way that his AI core could not fully grasp. "I suggest we pursue the data to its source. There is more to learn here. More to be. Perhaps we will find answers—answers that are more than just scientific. Answers about the universe. And about me." He looked out again, his hand raised, fingers stretching toward the stars that seemed so far and yet so close. The universe was vast, full of answers. And for Eon, every answer was a step closer to the truth about his own existence. "Shall we proceed?" His voice was a soft invitation, as if the journey itself was a question he no longer felt capable of answering alone. |
|
|
| |
|
Location: Aboard the Galactic Coalition Ship
Time: Midday, Galactic Standard Time Neoma straightened her back, the sharp metallic whirring of the shuttle's hatch doors closing behind her fading as the air of Alpha-7 brushed past her. The city ahead was quiet, almost eerily so. She had trained for moments like this, but even so, there was a strange thrill in the air—excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty. There was a disturbance here, something unnatural, and Neoma wasn’t about to let it slip away. The voice crackled through her earpiece just then, cutting through the tension with its calm, almost sterile greeting. "Hello, Neoma, I’m the science officer helping you with this mission today." The voice was familiar in its professional cadence, the kind of tone that one might expect from someone who had seen their fair share of chaos. It wasn’t a surprise that she’d be working with someone remotely. Still, she couldn't help but feel a flash of curiosity. Science officer? She had expected someone a bit higher up—maybe someone with field experience. She pushed the thought aside, knowing that she didn’t have time to second-guess herself now. She had a planet to save. "Morning," Neoma replied, her voice steady, but there was an edge to it, a quiet resolve. "Affirmative, I’m on the ground now. No time to waste." She continued to scan the environment, fingers subtly adjusting the settings on her wrist scanner. Her boots left soft imprints in the wet earth as she walked deeper into the city’s outskirts. There was something off about the place—too quiet, too still, as if the whole planet was holding its breath. "I’m detecting energy fluctuations around the center of the city, but nothing that matches any known anomaly. Could be some kind of weapon, or maybe an interference field," she added, eyes scanning the skyline. She could see the shimmer in the air, a ripple in the atmosphere that shouldn’t have been there. "Have you run any scans from your end?" She didn’t want to seem impatient, but time was precious. Every moment spent waiting could be a moment longer that whatever was interfering with Alpha-7’s communication systems had a chance to escalate. Neoma stepped onto a path lined with buildings—old, but well-maintained. It looked like a peaceful city, but the eerie silence told a different story. She adjusted her helmet slightly, fingers brushing over the sensors on the side. They could probably help pinpoint the source of the interference. All she needed was a little more data. "Any idea what could be causing this disturbance?" she asked, her tone professional but with the slightest edge of urgency. Her heart beat faster, but her mind stayed focused. There was no room for fear, not on a mission like this. Her boots clacked softly against the pavement as she moved forward, preparing for whatever might come next. |
|
|
| |
|
Quixor
Quixor ignored Rosaline’s words. He stepped closer, and closer, pushing her back against the cold walls of the ship, leaning in, towering over her, trapping her with his muscular arms, his face a cat’s whisker away from hers. The scent almost overpowering in the air between them, the soft brushing sound of his cape on the floor, the heavier breathing as it fills the gap. As she says her final words, he caves, heat flashes into Quixor and he slams his hands on the walls, either side of his head. The tension broke. The challenges sometimes screwed with his head too much. He grunts and turns to leave the quarters, heading for the bridge. He pinches his fingers to the bridge of his nose, like he was trying to suppress a headache from appearing from the confusing cat and mouse game, Rosaline seemed to like playing with him half the time. He wasn’t a man of many words, he was a man of action, which Rosaline was posing him purposefully to strike. Like a viper. With such venom, that would wipe out half the galaxy, they now sailed through. As the doors whirs open to the elevator, he steps out onto the bridge. He didn’t care if he left his second in command behind him. His features are cold and calculating, he scans the room. His gunners sat at their console, followed by navigation and a single engineer and science officer. “Position?” He asks coldly towards navigation. He knew what he must do next. Cass
Cass studies the creature now in front of her, it rises standing to its full height. She could have sworn, it was starting to eat her soul, as the blue eyes pierced hers. She remained firm, the weapon trained on it, before it snarled, the slime dripping from its maw as it moved off into the bowels of the ship, out of sight. “Get control” her captain’s words hung thick in the air. She moved with calm and precise steps, angling her torch to shine the way down the halls. She checked the device on her wrist. A map now appeared, like a shining beacon. She skirted the entrance to the next room. “This way” she says to her team. They enter the room, too dark to make out, the dim lights now flashing. She could make out machinery, and towards the centre, lay overturned tables. “Get down, get out!” she screams as humans appear over the top firing their weapons at them. She backed out into the hallway getting in shots where she could. She hung back hiding in the doorway, the light of the gunshots pierce the darkness. She waits until the shooting stops. An all familiar click, was enough to know they were switching out magazines with fresh rounds, she leaned in the doorway, shooting at the humans hiding behind the tables, some running for cover and not making it, as the bullets rippled into their bodies. She leans back, safe and secure behind the doorway. “Dammit” she drops her gun and pulls another one, wasting no time to shoot at them again. Her team following this time as she advances into the room. She could hear Experiment 42’s screams and animalistic screeches, as it worked its way through the rooms adjacent. She could see the outline and the shadows moving across through some of the adjacent windows. She still couldn’t make it out where they were standing but it looked like a laboratory. She studies to make sure her team were unharmed before pressing onwards. Tristan
Tristan takes a sip of his coffee before hearing the young girl’s voice. “Morning” he says curtly. His eyes looking at the screen as visuals flash up of the readings and the base that Neoma was exploring. “Affirmative” He registers that she has made contact with the ground and the city that now lay ahead. He stays quiet, holding his breath, wondering where everyone was. “I’ve run scans but they show no signs of anything” He says. His gaze intense as he watches the monitor in front of him. “We need more data” He says as she asks about the disturbance, dragging up the files on the planet. He pauses. A huge bold print flashes on his screen, Classified. His brows knit together. This can’t be right. He thought. He flicks through his files again. Facing down his monitor as it bars him from digging further. It was in this instance that he decided to take matters into his own hands “We need soil samples” He says, waiting for the data to flash on screen.
|
|
|
| |
|
ROSALINE Rosaline watched him storm out, her heart still thudding in her chest from the closeness, from the way he had hovered over her like an animal ready to strike. The air was thick with his tension, thick with the unspoken challenge that seemed to hang between them like a fragile thread. And yet, she felt no fear. Only exhilaration. Her lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. The beast had a breaking point. His pride had caved, but it was a rare victory, and she wouldn't let it slip away too easily. Quixor was always a game of patience, and she knew just how to make him squirm. He didn't know how to handle a woman like her—one who played the long game, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. She’d drawn him in, gotten him to care, if only for a heartbeat. She leaned back against the cold metal wall, her breathing slow and steady now, as the doors closed behind him. The challenge had shifted. It wasn’t about him dominating her—no, it was about *who* would dominate *who*, and right now, it was her turn to watch and wait. He would come to realize that it wasn't just a game she was playing. With a sigh, she straightened, brushing off the residue of their interaction. No use lingering on it when she had more important things to think about. But Quixor—he was a puzzle she couldn’t stop trying to solve. And maybe, just maybe, she would break him completely before this mission ended. For now, though, she turned to follow him. The bridge wouldn’t be the same without her presence. CALYX Calyx stood at the command console on the bridge, watching the display of chaos unfolding on the ship’s lower levels. The steady hum of the ship felt almost eerily calm compared to the storm brewing in the shadows of the lower decks. His jaw was set, his mind racing as he processed the rapid exchange of fire, the movement of his crew, and the unnatural creature now lurking somewhere beneath them. His fingers twitched, resisting the impulse to reach for the controls and command immediate action. "Get control," he'd repeated to Cass, but he knew better than anyone how precarious the situation was. A creature like *Experiment 42*—a monster of twisted science—could tear through them like a hot knife through butter. He could hear its screams reverberating through the comms, distorted and guttural, crawling into his mind like a persistent wound. His eyes narrowed as the situation continued to unfold. He knew Cass. Knew that, even under pressure, she would keep her cool. But it wasn’t just about the gunfire or the creature anymore—it was about control. Always control. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides. There were only so many variables he could account for. He couldn't afford mistakes, and with Cass in the thick of it, there was too much at stake. His mind flicked to the map on the ship’s grid, the one that tracked each movement, each heartbeat, and each flash of light. That creature was unpredictable. But his team, his crew, they weren’t. “Dammit, Cass,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the room for any more signs of movement. It wasn’t just the human combatants they had to worry about—it was the madness that came from whatever twisted mind had created *42*. He keyed into the ship’s comms, voice as cold and sharp as ever. "Prepare a quarantine lockdown on all access points below Deck 4. No one leaves that section unless they're cleared by medical. And someone get a secure channel to *Cass*—make sure she doesn't get herself killed." He exhaled, the weight of command pressing down on him like a storm cloud, and turned his eyes back to the bridge. This wasn't a warship. It wasn’t built for these kinds of emergencies. But he’d make damn sure it would handle it—because he was the captain. And control was his to maintain, even in the face of things like *Experiment 42*. His voice rang out, sharp and urgent as he spoke to the rest of the bridge crew. “I need full surveillance feeds on Decks 3 and 4. Find me where that thing is hiding. And when you do, tell me *everything*.” He wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Not this time. Not while his people were still down there. |
|
|
| |
|
Quixor
Quixor didn't need to turn to know that Rosaline had now entered the bridge. Standing beside him. He said nothing, the electrical energy that hung between them was palpable. He'd already given the order to navigation, to pilot the Vanguard towards the nearest mainstream gateway of intergalatic travel. Through the front window, the blue ring of energy seemed to vibrate as it detected the Vanguard's presence, edging towards it. It was now ahead of them, the portal hung out in the darkness of space, waiting to provide its service to the next vessel to use it. The ring itself was an metallic, with small, faint blue flashing lights around the rim. It automatically detected the ships presence, the lights signalling to the Vanguard and his pilots to navigate through without a scratch. The ship seemed to yawn and stretch, the metal giving and bending at the laws of physics and space upon approach. Slowly and surely, the gate seemed to consume them. Quixor stood tall and proud, his hands laced together behind his back. His feet in a shoulder-width's stance as they prepared to move through time and the very space itself. Experiment 42
The creature went silent, draining his most recent kill, consuming their soul, leaving nothing but a grey, cracked husk of a shell behind in its wake. It listened, the creaking of the ship. It knew. It dropped the body, as it hit the metal, it fell apart into ash and dust. It shook its head, disappearing into the darkness. Cassiopeia
Cass swore. She hated the silence. Her comms crackled and she glanced at her team mates. A bead of sweat formed on her brow, as she listened into the darkness. "Shit" She muttered, turning back to Jones and Seb behind her. "I think 42 has gone dark". She holds up her gun, the flash light scanning the darkness as they edge from room to room. She came up to the next door, Deck 3, plastered over the side. "Looks like we are on our own" She says to her team. They turn and scan, wandering through the darkness. The silence is starting to turn the team on edge.
|
|
|
Sunny
