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[Criptfeind]

Striker could have cried if he had tear ducts. They clearly meant to take away his flight to leverage him into joining active combat duty again. It's not that he didn't sympathize with their plight. But it just wasn't fair. Feeling down on shifted the thoughts on if he should look into joining the hounds to a lower priority, then pulled up the local news feed to see what had happened recently. All of it was bad news. A ACS outbreak and the economy still tanking were the most important ones to him. Near the end of the feed he noticed a article that talked about a Defender. DEFENDER 8 sacrificed himself to save some humans. How noble. Now it was getting a comfy retirement. Striker allowed himself a small amount of jealousy as he wondered if they would try to restrict the Defenders flight privileges, before he reminded himself that defenders did not fly. And that the defender had basically killed itself. Striker wondered if he would have the courage to do something like that. To turn oneself fully off, not sure if one would ever wake back up. To be frozen as nothing but a black box...

He pulled his cord out of the wall, suddenly cutting himself off from Cyberspace. He turned away from the HardLink and surveyed his mess. Frustration mounting at not knowing what to do he walked over to the work bench, planning on working on the hawk more. Two steps in though his optical sensors noticed the note that was put on a pile of junk. He paused for second before giving a mental shrug and grabbing it. Maybe it was something, although he doubted it...

Go to the CyberAdress on the note.

[Dwarmin]

Scan the fruits one more time, to be safe. Mark the location of the tree of possible and continue to the institute.

One more scan to be sure...they seem stable enough, even detached from the tree. But anyone whose studying them would have to be careful...if you didn't know any better, they seem almost tamper proof, not unlike an actual explosive. You mark the area on your internal positioning system. If you needed to find it again, you'd know exactly where it is.

...

You hover up through the skylight of the institute, carefully deposting the fruit on a lab temple.

Dr. Flannery is drinking coffee, tapping away on his mundane computer. He's the sort that doesn't really like Cyberspace travel.

"...hmm, what have you got there, Fox?" He asks, scratching his grey beard.

Well, on to making something useful out of those robo materials. Then visit the address, if I still have time.

You decide to work on your materials to get your mind off of...well, horrible things. You take a seat, and bring out your tools.

...

You pluck the skinny, heavy body of the Oidwyrm that was fluttering around the zone a few days ago from it's pile. It looks like a small Dragon, which makes you think it's not a Mechanimal but some sort of exotic Animoid. Either way, it attacked you-shot fire out of it's nostrils-and you had to put it down. Which was suspiciously difficult-it had tough, energy resistant armor for such a little thing.

You begin to take apart whats left, hoping you find something useful.

Engineering Roll 18+5=27 vs 15

...

An hour later, you've managed more or less to extract the flamethrower system from it's nose, and identified it's component systems-it's oddly elegant and inobstrusive, designed to break down hard metals like an industrial furnace to produce clean energy. Two large blue sacks near the stomach contain what you assume is close to Jellied Plasma, a material designed for melting down Oid Chassis-this is much lighter and more stable, a weaponized form even. Adhesive magnetic properties-difficult to remove if it sticks to an Oid. Highly combustible. You wonder if it was designed for disposal work or...

You quickly run the unknown chemical through your scanner, identifying it's base components. You feel you cold easily reproduce it for your own purposes, with some grunt work. It's a horrifying weapon, sure, but war is supposed to be horrifying.

You also manage to take out and modify the things subtargeting chip-an artistic little program designed to calculate the spread patterns and ejections rates of incendiaries for maximum dispersal and damage. Nasty.

Got Parts!

~Organic Flamethrower Schema
~Weaponized Jellied Plasma Formula
~Incendiary Chip V.1 (Increases the recurring damage caused by Burning weapons by +1)

[3]

You've done good work, and not damaged the Oidwyrm too much. There's still parts you could extract from it.

...

Placing the work in your safe locker, you head over to your VR hookup. Time to see what the address will lead you to...

((Read below))

Striker could have cried if he had tear ducts. They clearly meant to take away his flight to leverage him into joining active combat duty again. It's not that he didn't sympathize with their plight. But it just wasn't fair. Feeling down on shifted the thoughts on if he should look into joining the hounds to a lower priority, then pulled up the local news feed to see what had happened recently. All of it was bad news. A ACS outbreak and the economy still tanking were the most important ones to him. Near the end of the feed he noticed a article that talked about a Defender. DEFENDER 8 sacrificed himself to save some humans. How noble. Now it was getting a comfy retirement. Striker allowed himself a small amount of jealousy as he wondered if they would try to restrict the Defenders flight privileges, before he reminded himself that defenders did not fly. And that the defender had basically killed itself. Striker wondered if he would have the courage to do something like that. To turn oneself fully off, not sure if one would ever wake back up. To be frozen as nothing but a black box...

He pulled his cord out of the wall, suddenly cutting himself off from Cyberspace. He turned away from the HardLink and surveyed his mess. Frustration mounting at not knowing what to do he walked over to the work bench, planning on working on the hawk more. Two steps in though his optical sensors noticed the note that was put on a pile of junk. He paused for second before giving a mental shrug and grabbing it. Maybe it was something, although he doubted it...

Go to the CyberAddress on the note.

You spin through cyberspace, fear and grief and frustration clouding your senses. A FIO starts to follow you with a look of concern of her tiny face, but you 'fly' faster, not wanting to get into a conversation. Not that you can actually fly in here. It's more like being on an escalator that never ends until you get off.

You can only hope that what you'll find at the end if something you'll want to do.

((Read below))

"You be right. So what your offer, miss Yen?"

Yen nods, turning to another point of light.

To your surprise, two beings step into the room-one, an Oid composed of gritty looking wireframes. She looks very serious, but you can't tell what model she is-she's keeping that information secure from you. The other one is a small, round bot with a sad look on his face, despite him not being able to show emotions-it's a STRIKER unit, you recognize from your history lessons. Those are still in operation?

"Welcome, Septima and Striker." Yen says kindlly to the newcomers. "Clair, this is Septima and Striker-another two of our candidates. And I'm glad you could all make it..."

"...Now, I suppose we'll get straight to the point then? Very well. I doubt I could handle five introductions in a row...er, three...

You're all here for an opportunity, and I'll lay it out.

...

Do you know the best way to keep a war from starting is not to choose a side? It's true. Of course, it only takes one side to start a conflict, and two to perpetuate it...but, if enough people refuse to fight, by logic-no war could take place.

Consider me the representative of a collective of concerned citizens who refuse to fight for either side-we simply call ourselves The Gray. We see what is happening in Paradisum, the drums of war beating their endless march-and we're going to try and stop it. Perhaps it's impossible, but...we've come to the belief that the day we're forced to choose a side is the day we've failed.

We're only going to protect the people of Paradisum as long as we can-for them, we will fight. From anyone or anything who seeks to harm innocents.

In short, Clair, Septima, Striker...we're going to serve the greater good-try to keep our little paradise from crumbling in the wind. And, you three are uniquely positioned to help us achieve this. We have resources, we have contacts, we have influence. All we need is the will and the strength to enforce our beliefs. In this, you will be our guide-our arm. When words and peaceful action fail...we'll have all of you.

What do you all think of my offer? Is this something you'd be interested in? I assure you-the pay is quite good, and we can offer...incentives, of varying degrees. But, if we thought you were all merely mercenaries, we could not have contacted you."

[SOLDIER First]

"It's some kind of fruit," Fox says.
"The tree'll give you a nasty shock if you touch it, too."

[Dwarmin]

Tell Doctor Flannery they're some kind of fruit from a tree in the forest.
Also tell him the tree can give a shock to anyone that touches it.

((@Sentient: Unless your Oid is mute or just shy, you can talk you know I meant actions need to be in bold-RP talk I can handle right here.))

[Errol]

Septima had to suppress a bitter smile. So much for that. The Grey, as they called themselves, knew what they were doing. They even seemed to have a goal she could get behind, for all of her reluctance to get involved in something like this again.

Utopian as it seemed. What could some concerned citizens, who didn't even have a military arm yet - if she interpreted that right - do against the government and its army of harriers, so likely to interpret concern as treason? Against a rebellion unwilling to be restrained in its rage against the authority? Against the terrifying, creeping influence of ACS?

She couldn't sit idle much longer. Go to the catastrophe, or the catastrophe comes to you. The Grey... might be their best shot. Hell, what did she have to lose?

But did this emissary even speak the truth? She raised her voice. It sounded almost human.

"One question - Why should I trust you?"

[IronyOwl]

Riu beamed in her seat. Eating food wasn't normally considered "fun" exactly, but she figured this counted as meeting her goal.

Still, it'd be a shame to waste her good mood. She figured she could use some conversation... preferably with someone more interesting than anyone she saw around here. Not that she had anything against people who didn't look immediately special, just that this seemed like a special occasion.

Try to find someplace where I can relax and talk to other people relaxing. A park or bar perhaps?

[Dwarmin]

"It's some kind of fruit," Fox says.
"The tree'll give you a nasty shock if you touch it, too."

Doctor flannery nods, examining but touching it.

"I've seen these before, but this is a new strain of Nanoplant...quick growing, invasive...but it has potential." He comments, sitting down and taking a magnetic prying tool from his pocket.

He carefully peels off layers of the fruits organic/ceramic flesh, careful not to agitate the combustible properties. You watch with interest as he removes something from the center of a fruit-a small, ring like object made of a cool blue metal. He picks it up with a long pair of tongs and drops it into a flat and hexagonal container, snapping the lid closed gently.

"Fox, how about you go on a little adventure-take this to my friends at Arclite? You remember them, right? I think stretching your legs out in Paradisum will do you some good.

Just talk to Dr. Fields." He says, handing you the box.

Then he turns back to his computer, sipping his coffee. You know where Arclite is-and how to get there. Dr. Flannery likes to send you on 'missions'-part of your training, of course. You're expected to be armed and ready for this. Oddly, he never explains the reasons exactly he sends you....he just expects you to follow his orders and trust him.

You also notice he didn't offer you to taste the other fruit.

----

Riu beamed in her seat. Eating food wasn't normally considered "fun" exactly, but she figured this counted as meeting her goal.

Still, it'd be a shame to waste her good mood. She figured she could use some conversation... preferably with someone more interesting than anyone she saw around here. Not that she had anything against people who didn't look immediately special, just that this seemed like a special occasion.

Try to find someplace where I can relax and talk to other people relaxing. A park or bar perhaps?

D20 Event Roll=20

Jetting out of the restaurant, you feel amazingly light and breezy-the humans would say 'walking on air'. You decide against a cab and opt for a brisk walk, enjoying the quiet city. It's getting late-the first shades of what looks to be a truly heavenly dusk are falling. People are relaxing, laughing, talking quietly. You watch as life rolls by your visual sensors. A quartet-two men, and a female humoid-sing to a small and happy crowd, their voices rising and falling in perfect unison. A man with a child on his shoulders walks down the street, laughing. A metallic Eleoid and Human examine a broken down hovercar with the hood up, which seems to have overheated and planted itself on the street-they talk in the friendly and excited terms of those who enjoy fixing problems, working on things, working with their hands. A squad of (you have to admit) cute little Bee-Animoids hovers down the street in formation, bzzzting excitedly to themselves, talking about a 'hero' who did a good deed for one of their number-and then maybe things aren't so bad in Paradisum.

It's hard to believe anything bad can ever happen here, when you see these things. Paradisum can be a beautiful place, at times...

Deciding on a whim, you head to the local park-the one closest to Arclite HQ, built by them to let their employees relax in natural setting. You know many of the Oids and Humans who frequent this place-though, as you past the marble arch leading in, a strange redheaded Humoid with large breasts strolls past you looking content and unaware. You've never seen her before, though you vaguely recognize the general design-entertainment model...

Probably just a local dancer resting her feet before business picks up later that night, you think.

....

The park is calm and quiet as ever. Content and well fed ducks-both Mechoid and Natural-are bedding down to sleep, honking softly.

You scan the park as you lean on your favorite bench, taking in all the people here.

Two Humans, a man and a woman, with a large blanket and baskets around them-a late night picnic? You can't help but notice they're not talking to each other, and haven't touched their food. It's odd.

An Animod Panther, stretching and resting on the limb of a tree. He looks very relaxed.

A PPD officer, a male Humoid, ambling through the park on his rounds-he doesn't seem very alert. He's got his badge and gun on, but doesn't look to be in the mood to arrest anyone tonight. He's heading in your general direction.

A group of five OCP 'Gardener' Droids, planting grass. They seem bored, trilling to each other in binary in typically crude terms.

A pretty, yet obviously inebriated woman sitting on the bench in the row ahead of you. She's crying quietly.

A young man in a suit, flicking coins into the fountain, and speaking his cellphone. He seems to be getting good news.

A Handsome male Humoid with a painting easel, he's basking in the glow of the day-there's a sign by him. 'Self Portraits-10 SIL'

A Trio of Arclite researchers, whom you recognize. They're in a tight group, speaking excitedly but quietly.

A nervous looking mechoid, obviously old combat design-and in need of repairs. He seems to be lost, moving slowly to no destination at all.

---

Septima had to suppress a bitter smile. So much for that. The Grey, as they called themselves, knew what they were doing. They even seemed to have a goal she could get behind, for all of her reluctance to get involved in something like this again.

Utopian as it seemed. What could some concerned citizens, who didn't even have a military arm yet - if she interpreted that right - do against the government and its army of harriers, so likely to interpret concern as treason? Against a rebellion unwilling to be restrained in its rage against the authority? Against the terrifying, creeping influence of ACS?

She couldn't sit idle much longer. Go to the catastrophe, or the catastrophe comes to you. The Grey... might be their best shot. Hell, what did she have to lose?

But did this emissary even speak the truth? She raised her voice. It sounded almost human.

"One question - Why should I trust you?"

"The reason you ask the question is the reason we're hiring you. And the answer is, you really shouldn't trust anyone these days. Everyone has their own agenda....

But in your case, we'll give you enough flexibility to hopefully dissuade your hesitancy. We can give you-and your team, if you're all interested in working together-a list of assignments. You're under no contract to complete them. Do the research yourself. Take the jobs you want. If you find something you don't like? Walk away from us.

What could be simpler?" She says, with a subtle smile.

[IronyOwl]

Riu's expression turned to one of pleasant determination as she took in the park's contents. There were a lot of interesting people here, but most importantly, several people that looked like they could use her help.

...also she wanted a portrait.

Her gaze lingered between the crying woman and the combat Oid. Both looked like they might benefit from her assistance, but she wasn't sure which to attempt to help first. Eventually she settled on the mechoid- if the woman was only crying softly, maybe it wasn't anything serious. Humans needed to cry sometimes.


"Excuse me, sir. Are you alright?" she asked him, smiling and trying to sound concerned and friendly without sounding condescending.

Ask mechoid if he's okay.

[Dwarmin]

The Mechoid flinches at your words-insofar as a machine be said to flinch.

He takes a step back on one of his oversized, badly weighted feet.

"...You're not a Hound, are you? I've done nothing wrong...I'm not sick..." He says quietly, eyes sparking with fear.

[IronyOwl]

Riu's expression turned to one of deep concern. That sounded suspiciously specific and unprompted...

"...I'm not a Hound, but... are you sure you're not sick...?"

[Dwarmin]

He takes two steps back, old hydraulic systems wheezing. His voice is a whirring panic.

"OMLOM is fine...I served for many years...I don't deserve this...you, you people, you take OMLOM's friends and I never see them again...you want to take me too...please, leave me alone..."

A few heads begin to notice the conversation.

The PPD officer seems to pick up the pace and head toward you.

[SOLDIER First]

Wanted to have some.. oh well. Maybe later. Fox thinks.
He leaves the institute, again hovering through the skylight, and sets off to the Arclite.

[Errol]

"The reason you ask the question is the reason we're hiring you. And the answer is, you really shouldn't trust anyone these days. Everyone has their own agenda....

But in your case, we'll give you enough flexibility to hopefully dissuade your hesitancy. We can give you-and your team, if you're all interested in working together-a list of assignments. You're under no contract to complete them. Do the research yourself. Take the jobs you want. If you find something you don't like? Walk away from us.

What could be simpler?" She says, with a subtle smile.

"Heh. Doing nothing is." Septima doesn't smile in return.

"My opinion - Your offer is generous. Hell, you know what, I'll take it - under one condition. You offer this same deal to me, in the real world, person-to-person, without any masks. I don't have a high opinion of those that weave their webs from the shadows, even if they have good intentions."

She pauses, gauging the reaction.

"However - I'll stay here for a little longer. After all, it seems not all of your guests have arrived yet. Since I hope I'll be able to work with you in the future, I'd rather not miss the other introductions." With these words, she turns to face the other candidates.

"You were... Striker and Clair, right? Nice to meet you. Although I can't say I've heard either of these names, sorry."

[Dwarmin]

"Heh. Doing nothing is." Septima doesn't smile in return.

"My opinion - Your offer is generous. Hell, you know what, I'll take it - under one condition. You offer this same deal to me, in the real world, person-to-person, without any masks. I don't have a high opinion of those that weave their webs from the shadows, even if they have good intentions."

She pauses, gauging the reaction.

She doesn't seem to react. Her face blurs for a moment, is all. Any reactions you do see are no doubt filtered by the program...

"As you wish. Name the time and place. In my own defense, I'd day I wear a mask so others don't have to..."

She flits out of sync with the room, leaving a hazy afterimage that soon fades. While you're not quite 'alone', it seems she has given you the illusion of privacy to speak amongst yourself.

Wanted to have some.. oh well. Maybe later. Fox thinks.
He leaves the institute, again hovering through the skylight, and sets off to the Arclite.

D20 Event roll=4

Whirrwhirrwhirr

You rapidly rise-out of the lab, above the trees, higher and higher-until you've exited the dome and afforded a view of Paradisum. It'll be dark soon, but you aren't concerned. This is just another forest after all...

...

You hover slowly toward Arclite, being careful to observe the 'rules' of aerial traffic. Dr. Flannery warned you to be careful flying low-hovercabs and hoverbuses zoom around in air lanes, taking the populous back home after another arduous day. Not many people have personal vehicles-they're heavily regulated by the council-but those that do can avoid the lanes and take free flight paths toward their own destinations. It's one of these you take now, your package stowed safely in your internals.

You look down at the city. Hundreds of lights...thousand and thousands of people. And if Dr. Flannery is right...it could all be in trouble. You don't know what to think of that. Surely, the Goverment has to keep people safe, right? But the rebels are the people. How do you protect people from themselves?

These thought's are running through your processor, when you hear the explosion.

Your sensitive ears immediately prick in the direction. It's your intended destination...as you increase speed, you being to pick up fainter things. Screams...gunfire...sirens. Seems it's coming from the green patch of land not far ahead of you, on the rim of the Garden Ring-the Arclite Industrial Park. Normally a peaceful place.

But not tonight.

[Criptfeind]

(I find it interesting that the most wangsty character I have ever played is a robot,  Traditionally you know. Less emotional.)

Striker struggled with his thoughts for a moment before another Oid who was gathered like him here spoke up, mirroring what he was thinking. How can we trust you. The response was... Strange. The idea of working in such a lose organization was strange to someone who spent most of his life working in a ridged hierarchy. Such a lose way. He understood that it was to offer some sense of safety to them. But... With the disappearance of the program they were talking to he turned to his companions and activated his voice synthesizers.

"I don't think I truly understand these people. To be honest the lack of organization they are purposing is a comforting idea on the surface, we basically do not have to trust them... But to be honest it strikes me as them ether not trusting us, or rather them thinking we might not agree with their larger goals. Keep us disorganized and separated from other cells so we can't get the whole picture of what this organization is actually doing. Even if we later find out that we don't agree with them I seriously doubt that 'just walking away' will be as simple as promised.

Or if not that, it speaks to them being disorganized themselves. If they truly want to go against the government they will find themselves branded as rebels or terrorists, it might even move into open warfare, as terrible as that would be. Protecting the innocent is a noble goal, but I don't think it can be done with small covert operations. How can we be sure they are capable of what they are talking of. I  fear for my safety if I throw my lot in with a potentially incompetent organization.

In the end they appear to be asking us to risk our lives and freedoms to organization we know nothing about and is highly suspect all in the name of protecting... Protecting... I don't. I don't..."

Striker laps into silence as he considers the idea of protecting people. When he flew away from his squad that day he did not even think of trying to save them. He just flew away, leaving them to their fate to save his own life. He was a coward he realized now. Maybe he could have saved them. He relived that day many times, often feeling like he made the wrong choice... Maybe it would have been worth the risk to his life to at least try. Would he be doing that again here? Running away from fear and leaving, not just his team this time, everyone to their fate? Could he live with himself afterwards?

He spoke up. His volume low. "But it might be worth it."