Part 2

A security camera lazily pans around within a large darkened cargo lift. The lack of any sort of blast marks from laztools or a casual scrape from a supply crate as if there had been no form of activity of any kind for a while. As the last of its arc comes in view, two hazy figures enter the lift from a set of double doors coming from the opposite side of the lift.

Zooming in slightly, it slowly makes out the characteristics of the figures entering the lift from the double doors, noting that their lips were consistently moving in an organized manner. However, it couldn’t pick up any sounds from its current set of audio recording software. Making note of the largely contrasting sizes of the figures, it proceeds to zoom in on their mouths to try to piece together what is being said.

Soon enough, the smaller one yells out, “TAKE US TO SHUNTER PAD A-30-1. AUTHORIZATION KEY: U2-V6,” and the entire lift slowly heaves into motion. The painful wheezes of a slightly out of date hydraulics system and a protesting set of gears within the lift gets everything moving as the lift picks up speed.

The exchange of words is apparent within the interior, but the content isn’t quite clear. Zooming in on their faces and a short buffering of the audio system, the two’s conversation begins to be heard.

“…need a different sort of attire judging by how tight this suit is. Either a bigger suit, or something else that is equally bigger will suffice.” Bazz says.

“I think that can be arranged, will you be leaving your gear here as well or just Fenris?”

“I think what is best right now is for Fenris to rest here without me. From what I can understand, Ninurta said before that some of his intelligence and power leaked through my soulbond into little Fenris so there should be after effects that we currently don’t know about.

What I’m worried about now is the fact of what I can use to fight with considering that all I have are my hands. I don’t have any use for my gear as well seeing as it is much too small for my current stature.”

Marneus pulls out his PDA and punches in a couple buttons to get everything ready. Afterward, he looks up with a grin and reaches up to pat him in the middle of his back.

“Don’t worry about it so much princess. I find using your hands to do everything beats conventional melee weaponry. Honestly though, the only thing that you could possibly use would be a 2 handed sword. Although… that might seem to fit in one hand for you, it might also be a bit small. We also currently don’t have any sword type weapons stored here in Aranov so the only thing you could possibly use would be a massive piece of pipe. There might be some up on the station but I rather doubt it.”

Looking over at him, he smiles slightly at the older man and then decides to ask,

“Will we perchance have any sort of ground troops or some auxiliary type troops for combat aboard the station?”

Marneus looks up at him with a crooked brow and remembers the neatly folded paper that was handed earlier to him by Captain Solide sitting in his breast pocket.

“Solide seems to think that we may have some suit oriented troops stationed somewhere on an island within the lower hemisphere. This is just me judging by what the coordinates that I received earlier so we might need to pick them up on the way to the station.”

Looking up slightly at the screen displaying the floor number, Bazz sighs for a moment and wonders when he will be able to rest from all of this outside interference.

~I wonder how Liri’s doin. Note to self, take some time to— ~

A whisper from Elena Indie has been initiated

A page pops up in front of him as he continues to wonder about what he should do. Approving of the go ahead for the private chat, the familiar female voice pops into his head.

Thinking quietly on how to reply, one question surfaces as he sifts through the knowledge he had obtained.

He takes a moment to process what she said and looks sheepishly over at the humming man next to him.

“Reveal character info.” He states softly.

As soon as he says this, Marneus’ info shows up in boldly highlighted deep golden yellow words about ½ a meter above his head.

Alliance Commander-in-Chief, Marneus Yordam: lvl 320

Seeing the provided information, he looks above his own head to see some softly highlighted white words as well as a green diamond-like object floating above it.

Bazz: lvl 1

~Haha…figures. No wonder he gets the reaction he does! Hmmm… I wonder what the lvl is used for…~

Turning his attention back to the woman still on the line, he asks,

It takes around five minutes for her to respond, seeming as if she was currently preoccupied with something else on the other end of the line.

~Why do I feel like she would take that to the extreme…~

Looking back up at the lift floor screen, and seeing that he had 2 more floors to go he asks a question that had started to scratch at his mind.

Her response is immediate.

“Hmmm, show titles.” He mutters too low for Marneus to hear, followed by a page opening up in front of him.

TitlesThe Founding FatherA social Title that can be used to mask your name from others. Enables the free range for manipulation of restrictions for your race within NeosDo you wish to wear this Title? Yes or No

Reading the page, he secretly thinks that it’s a little too convenient that he had the Title. Remembering back to when he woke up earlier that day however, he realized that he had gained it from finishing the evolution quest.

~ Note to self, make sure to read all of the information when it comes to gaining things. ~

Pushing on the page to equip the Title, he looks above his head and his name disappears to have the corresponding Title above.

The Founding Father: lvl 1

BRING! BRING! …

His attention diverts to the new disturbance within the lift, blaring from the pocket of one Commander Yordam. Before he could ask another question to his contact, a page pops up in front of him.

Chat has ended

Sighing at the usual antics of his contact, he turns towards Marneus in an attempt to see what was happening but stops when he notices his face. Marneus’ face is grim as he listens in to his PDA and discreetly answers in a low, short, and clipped tone.

The lift buzzes loudly as it reaches the designated floor and Marneus finishes the conversation with a short, “Yes ma’am. I’ll try to make him get on board.”

The massive double doors at the opposite end of the lift open, revealing a ship that looked old beyond compare. It was lighted dimly from all angles, gifting the viewer with an impressive display of its 200m worth of size. Each sleek angular curve of the ship reflected the rays of light in just the right way to dazzle him, just enough to temporarily blind him if he stared too long at one spot.

The vessel itself is triangular in appearance, landing gear lightly carrying the weight of it protrude from each angle underneath. The same could be said for the position of the engines. Instead of massive turbines that one would normally see associated with engines, there were two large silvered orbs sitting inside of the wings as well as a smaller one sitting inside of the forward portion of the vessel.

At the end of each wing was a noticeably large double barrel, one on the bottom and another on top. The majority till the tip, which was subsequently scorched black through apparent use, was chrome in the extreme, reflecting everything within its vicinity. The cockpit of the ship was located almost 15 meters from the center, as he couldn’t place anything that could be a helm from the rest of the vessel and it was the only place where there was a large wraparound window with a chair peeking out.

The hull was colored a rusty red with differing designs of yellow and white flames dancing in a circle around the cockpit. Looking over it, he couldn’t help but admire the artistry assembled before him. Just as he is about to look away, he notices some faded bluish lettering reaching towards the opposite side of the ship. Walking over to see what it was, he catches the rest of the lettering.

Kishar’s Chariot.

~Hmmm, looks like one of those ancient Nighthawk stealth fighters that the US used to employ… but on steroids~

Marneus dials another set of glyphs into his PDA and starts speaking quickly. Most of the conversation is hushed, but Bazz could still hear some of what was happening. Something about moving pieces around the planet and getting the appropriate gear allocated.

“Make the call to have them P&S’d up to the station. I don’t care what you have to do, just make it happen. Yes.” Marneus continues to speak into the PDA.

Deciding to leave Marneus to his own issues, he starts making his way towards the shuttle. As he approaches, he notices a pair of large bay doors spanning roughly 300x 100m standing silently at the end of the docking pad.

Flipping his PDA shut, Marneus sighs heavily, as if suddenly feeling every year that he had been alive had effectively doubled in size. Unwanted information was never something he wanted shoved towards him, but that’s what happens when he decided to be the head honcho of the military branch.

“I see you were right about the strategy earlier. The Shakurian fleet has started moving towards my station.” He says as he walks up behind Bazz. “Albeit they are moving slowly to avoid any necessary screw-ups, but that leaves us some time to get situated in orbit. We have roughly a week and a half before they reach the station, judging by what the navigators have plotted using their current speed and trajectory.”

Looking down at the man, Bazz smiles slightly and starts walking over to the ship and asks,

“So what exactly…”

“She is a customized version of a MMRIAF class Brontus Fighter. Back during the Unification War, she was my mobile command base.”

“I hate to say this but I don’t know the terminology for aircraft in this dimension. So I basically don’t know what you said concerning the hybrid.”

Marneus gives him a long stare and sighs.

“For fucks sake princess, at least use your brain to take apart the acronyms. MMRIAF stands for Medium Multi Role Intelligence Assault Fighter.”

Walking forward, Marneus passes the side of the Chariot, running a hand down the side of the hull and starts inspecting the starboard engine. While checking to make sure that everything is in place and that the fuel line was in place and filled, he orders in a hushed tone.

“Chariot, run a nav diagnostic and full systems check so we can take off please.”

A few moments pass and a deep rumbling starts emanating from the ship as the orbs start to vibrate. The minutes pass as the vibration continues into a higher frequency before finally tapering off to a manageable level.

“{Welcome home Commander, you may board when ready}” an eerie mechanized hushed feminine voice sounds out from the ship, accompanied by an entrance ramp that starts lowering itself to the ground.

Bazz’s eyes widen as the first thing to enter his brain is what anyone would rationally think, artificial intelligence. Marneus on the other hand starts walking into the bowels of the Chariot, thereby leaving him alone in the semi-empty hangar. The minutes pass as he stands there frozen stiff, not knowing what the exact details are and having no idea what to expect from this revelation. He had watched one too many Sci-fi films that included Artificial Intelligence taking over the world in his youth. As he ponders this, he becomes jarred as a familiar line from the past few weeks reverberates through the air.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP PRINCESS, WE DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!!!” Marneus calls out from inside the ship.

Sighing, he starts walking up the ramp as the creaking from the massive doors signal their widening maw.

To say that he needed to stoop in order to not be hit in the head would be an understatement. Because of his size, he had to crouch in order to be able to navigate his way through the interior. The inside was sparse and sleek, as if someone had taken great care to make sure all the interior plates and wiring were in correct order.

He continued following the hallway as it turned in a loop, leading passed open doors that lead to what looked like a small but spacious cargo bay, an assortment of additional crew quarters, and a small infirmary just shy of a command deck with a curved and bolted couch laying across the back with a small table in front of it.

Looking at the couch, he gives it a quick look over in an attempt to size it up. The couch itself was straight-backed with a very small pad in the middle. It looked to be something little better than an extended cot, but feeling the ever growing longing for sleep, he falls into the couch’s embrace while being accompanied by something that may have felt eerily familiar to his current situation.

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2 months after the events of Clive’s incapacitation…

“-15 minutes till the drop point! Start packin’ Misfits!-” Master Reyes’ voice crackles over the intercom in the interior of the cargo bay.

The dimly lit carrier jet cargo bay cast low shadows around its few accounted for occupants, each bustling with their own energy while getting ready for their current mission. A retrofitted APC stands silently in the middle of the plane as the vibration of energy is apparent. One of the occupants is laying down next to a box of explosives with the letters BUM stamped on it, seemingly not paying attention to his current surroundings. Two figures walk over to the sleeping occupant, both of them staring down at him. Each of them wearing a form fitting black HALO suit that had customized external plating over pieces of the body.

One chuckles quietly before speaking out in deep, broken, Old English, accent.

“Wake thee demon!! Before I kickest your arse out of this here aeroplane! You began this little venture of ours and twill all be damned if you sleep through all of it!”

The figure laying on the ground stirs from his trance. Slowly looking up, his face becomes illuminated by the dim light.

“‘Teachings of the Arca’d: Sleep where you can find it. Break it, and you shall thoroughly lower your chances of survival’. So shut the fuck up Imani.” Bazz states in an irritated tone.

Consequently, he reaches out a hand to ask for some help up and a large dark skinned hand grasps his. Finally standing up, Bazz looks up slightly at the figure named Imani.

[-Imani Koori, 38 years old, a solid 2 meters of height and 125 kgs worth of muscle coupled with a penchant for trickery. Found as a child soldier working for a local no-name drug lord in the middle of Africa by Master Reyes after a failed attempt to kill him, was brought back to the Arcadian Compound and found that he was innately adept with staves and polearms. Found the joy of theatre and drama while attending a community college back in the day and it sort of stuck. Has a wife and child living somewhere stateside.-]

He had a shaved head with the beginnings of a beard growing on his chiseled face. Vibrant blue eyes peer down towards him, almost as if they had a jovial tint to them just waiting for a fresh joke to be uttered.

Next to the looming man stands a grinning woman. Jade like skin without a hint of cosmetics, a lithe figure with marvelous complement of a C sized chest, silky golden brown eyes, and deep red head of flowing hair. Looking down into her eyes, a subtle predatory gleam shown through for but a moment before returning to their luscious soft glow.

“Are we ready to go Triss?” he asks with a soft sigh.

No verbal response is given, only a slight nod of her head as she picks up a freshly polished monofilament katana from the top of an ammo crate and slides the blade into the scabbard wrapped at the back of her waist.

[-Triss Rayne, 22 years old, roughly 170cm tall, and the adopted daughter of Master Reyes. Was trained from the age of the 6 with her specialty in bladed weapons being at the fore. She isn’t very good with social skills because of what happened to her before she was brought to the Arca’d.-]

Looking over at her, he wonders silently as to how her mental state is holding up.

“Triss, what is your goal for this vendetta of ours?” he asks while stooping down to pick up his pack.

Removing the scabbard from behind her, she taps on the steel plated floor four times.

“Ah… So you’ve finally taken it upon yourself to try and take some of everyone else’s kills have you?”

Her only response is a wide smile and a predatory glint, which consequently makes everyone in the cargo bay shudder.

“400 is quite the count little Triss. Just be sure to watch out for your own comrades this time will you?” Imani asks politely as he strides over to the side of the hold.

Her face furrows as she places her hands on her hips in a pouty fashion.

Boom!!

The cargo bay rocks violently accompanied by a shifting of the plane as it takes evasive maneuvers from the incoming AA fire. The standing figures slightly lose their balance with the moving of the plane, each holding onto something in order to keep their place. The APC starts sliding ever so slightly only to be stopped by two leaping figures from across the hold, each one pushing from the opposite side to hold it in place.

“-Mount up Misfits! It’s high time we acquire some vengeance for our princess back home! You all know which area to hit. Boss! You take care of the anti-air turret first, otherwise the Misfits will have a slightly harder time getting to their objectives! You have 5 minutes till the drop point!-” the intercom crackles as the crew scrambles into action.

Looking out at the 15 assembled men and women of the unit finish their last minute checks, Bazz sighs slightly and a furrowed look creases his face as he remembers what happened to his best friend not too long ago. Unbridled rage. That was all he could feel towards the people who had retaliated towards him.

“MISFITS!!!” he barks out in a deep commanding voice.

Everyone stops what they are doing to look at him. Looking out at them all, he commits each face to a memory accompanied by a name.

“What is the primary rule when it comes to the staining Arcadian honor?!”

“IF THEY STAIN IT, RETURN IT TENFOLD UPON THEM!!!” An assemblage of voices call out across the hold in return. Anger creasing each and every one of their faces. Triss and Imani both have the look of neutrality plastered to their faces, their eyes however, tell an altogether different story.

“And what, dear Misfits of mine, is our standard rate for the cowards who have crippled our brother as a result of this stain?!”

“DESTRUCTION AND DEATH!!!” they all shout back.

A creaking sound echo’s within the hold as the bay door begins opening out into the elements accompanied by a wave of cold air that laps up to greet them. Slowly kneeling down, he places his hands on the ground in the form of a dogeza while slowly resting his head against the cold steel plating. Confusion becomes written on the assembled crew as their leader prostrates himself in front of them. Each person starts looking around at each other, wondering why their leader was doing this, until a soft, short statement reveals the answer.

“I’m sorry.” Bazz says with a slightly emotional tone.

The Misfits watch him, none bothering to move. Each and every one of them staring at him as he continued to prostrate himself on the floor.

“It is my fault that all of this came to be. I took a contract to take out a certain member of the Russian Mafia and in retaliation they tried to kill me. They ultimately failed, but in the process they crippled our brother Clive, and for that I am sorry. If I had the strength, I would take care of this myself… instead, I have to resort to asking you all to help me.”

Everyone within the hold starts softening their gaze as they remember his earlier choked up request for help while they were each on their separate contracts throughout the world. The hold was silent except for the explosions from the AA fire being evaded.

“So please…swear to me. Swear to me here that you will do your utmost to guard your lives better than you have ever before! Swear to me that you will hunt down every last remaining criminal of the organization that we are trying to destroy…. If I were to lose my life in this vendetta, swear to me… swear to me that you will not be disheartened, and in so doing, recruit another to take my place among the –”

“-Boy, you really need to leave the past where it falls and focus on what is in front of you. -” Master Reyes’ voice crackles over the intercom.

“Way to spoil the moment Old Man!”

“It was just getting to the good part!”

Two voices interject as soon as Master Reyes finished.

“-Shut up ya shitty brat, it’s time to go! Boss, get your ass down there. It’s getting to be a pain to weave through all of this anti air fire. Remember, there should be a complement of at least 1,200 criminals down in that HQ of theirs, so be prepared for a one sided slaughter.-”

The bay door, being in the final stages of opening, starts slowing as it reaches its maximum yielding width. Leaning down to pick up his pack, he stands back up and affixes it tightly to his body. Checking to make sure everything was in place, he picks up Little Liri from a nearby strapped down ammo crate and the accompanying fully-enclosed helmet sitting next to it.

Turning to head out the bay doors, he is suddenly stopped by a hand being placed gently on his shoulder. Before he could look over his shoulder, a slender body with two soft mounds starts to hug him from behind, all the while holding onto a familiar katana.

“Remember… aim for the knees, Brother.” A soft, sensual purr enters into his ear.

“I will, Triss.” He replies softly as he shudders inside at her attempt at empathy. She understood what he was going through and the only way she knew how to console him was by giving a small pointer for fighting.

She releases him just as he leans forward into the chilling winds lapping inside from the bay door. Echoing booms from the AA rounds exploding in the air from below, rose up to greet him as he reached the edge of the lift. He slides the helmet on and leans out, slightly looking down at the positions of the objectives from the briefing earlier that day that were displayed on his screen inside the helmet. Harnessing his rifle to his chest, he looks briefly into the darkened atmosphere he was about to jump into.

~This is the last haven that they have. After all my work the past two months exterminating them throughout the world, it’s finally time to finish this~

As he thinks this, an AA round starts shrieking towards the plane as he tumbles out the door and into the chilled dark atmosphere. As soon as he got a couple dozen meters away however, that same round meets with him and abruptly explodes 3 meters away, knocking him off his intended flight path. This was but the beginning of what the world would come to know as the Massacre of Muromtzevo. For Bazz however, it was the beginning of the end of nearly everything he held dear.

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The jolt shook him from his reverie within the interior of the Chariot. Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but rub his face with clammy hand.

~Never again… I will never let something like that happen again~

Slowly pulling his hand from his face, he starts gazing at his arm. The faintly glowing indentation enraptures him, almost as if it was a parasite growing within his arm. Thinking back however, he remembered the skill that he was given, Adaptive Body Image.

Pulling up his skills list, he selects the ABI and is immediately granted an interesting window. A panorama of colors opens up on the left side of the window while on the right is an image of his body with left and right arrows situated at the top. He stares at the seemingly limitless amount of colors that he could choose from but refrains from changing it in the slightest.

Looking instead to the portrait of his body, he taps lightly on the left arrow with the intention of turning his body. Instead what greets him is a pop up page with a host of preset names written down with the current formation on his body being highlighted. Looking up and down through the list, he starts tapping on one or two as he tries out each one. What greets him as a result, however, is a host of uncomfortable growing pains and cracks as the indentations change their places or change entirely.

The minutes pass as he continues to do this, but he stops after the 15th seeing as he couldn’t find one that he liked. Looking through the rest of them, his eyes stop on an interesting name, Avatar Ascendant. Tapping on it, he feels all of the indentations slowly fill in and the glowing lines disperse. Feeling sort of uncomfortable, he taps on the little i floating in the upper corner of the name. A feeling of understanding dawns on him as his eyes widen at the information being presented.

Avatar Ascendant:

Lines of Power are restricted to the eyes.

Extra Effect: Glow of the Ascendant. No matter what angle you are being viewed from, your head will always have a glow corresponding to the color being used. Activated skills are henceforth tied to Lines of Power using the current color being used within the Adaptive Body Image.

Closing the window, he looks at the diagram and nods his head in satisfaction at the picture being presented of himself with a soft golden glow surrounding his head. Thinking that it was a lot less flashy than the other presets, he taps the button to confirm the appearance and closes the windows.

Wondering how much time had passed, he slowly sits up only to be startled by a soft feminine voice.

“~Who are you, Young Blood? I feel as if you are someone not of this dimension~”

Not knowing how to respond, he throws his legs over the side of the couch and crouches down, only to notice that the ship had changed its height. It was just enough for him to stand at full height and still have a couple cm to spare. While doing this, he feels the entity inside him stir.

~This feeling…~ Ninurta says quietly.

“~Fine, don’t answer me. I’ll just ask little Marny instead!~” the voice continues apparently not patient enough to wait for him to respond.

Before he could respond, a much louder and gruffer voice sounds out.

“Princess!! What the hell have you done!”

“~Oh hush Marny! You’ll scare him!~”

Not knowing what was going on, he takes a couple steps forward before a weird tingling feeling in his chest starts spreading outward. Marneus and the odd voice continue conversing as he starts walking towards the cockpit.

Key of ◊ has detected external God Element

A page he doesn’t quite understand suddenly pops up and he clears it while he tries to concentrate on the conversation currently heightening in the decibels.

“~Why didn’t you think to inform me about the adorable Young Blood sitting in my domain Marny? Give me a satisfactory answer or I’ll leave you for a younger man!~”

“I just told you! He is a Spacer that finished the experimentation that we had put him through! Why do you continue to pester me woman!?”

“~Don’t you give me that tone, Marny! He doesn’t feel as if he only has the experimentation done! I feel something else living inside him…What did you put in this Young Blood!?~”

Sighing slightly, he feels Ninurta’s consciousness skim his own, as if he was being polite compared to the last time he took over.

~Ku’sh, can you lend me your body for a few moments? I feel compelled to speak with this…being~

~Why are you bothering to ask now? You didn’t before?~

~….~

~What’s the problem?~

~I feel something…something I haven’t felt in a very long time. If my feeling is correct… just lend me your body for a moment ku'sh~

Bazz momentarily hesitates but relents as he feels a slow pressure being exerted over his body. While relinquishing control, his eyes turn the previous shade of deep crimson that they were before. The same could be said about the tattoos returning to his body. It was as if he was the one who was trapped and unable to do anything within his own body.

“Are you a Blessed One?” a deep voice reverberates throughout the ship.

The conversation between the two halts at this and the consciousness returns to him as the voice responds.

“~This feeling… Who are you stranger?~”

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I apologize for my extremely late releases. I know most of you know this already but school is beginning to bring the pain for me and I'm going to endeavor to release the last portion before the halfway point of next month.

Again, I apologize for the late releases.