Nathom was a tad sceptical, despite his enthusiasm at the idea of gaining new knowledge.
"A raid...? That makes it sounds as though you're expecting us to encounter trouble. Trusting in suits to keep us alive down there is bad enough without referring to this task as a 'raid'. Ah well... if you'll forgive an archaic old saying, 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. Where are these suits, then?"
>Let's get this show on the road! In a hesitant, nervous fashion, of course.
"Oh, by raid I simply mean that you will be rummaging through things over a hundred years old. You won't quite me a welcomed guest but rest assuredly as there will be no traps or other such installments to inhibit your progress."He smiles gently.
"I believe the Gentleman has prepared six suits total. They are in the equipment lockets upstairs. But first, you should come with us to dinner."Hans walks off, motioning for you to come with him. You two are the last ones in the hangar, it seems.
"Wait, what's that sound?"
Turn around and investigate the sound.
You peer into the closet. Immediately, a limp hand falls out through the crack in the door. You... slide it back inside and step away.
The rustling sound continues, and you hear long objects being knocked over and slamming into the side walls of the closet.
Nathom and Hans are the last ones to leave the hangar. Hans sees you looking back at the closet and asks you a question.
"Something wrong, Defias?"As Henry explores the replacements offered, his eyes slowly go wider and wider. Disregarding possible confuses (which is hard to do), James puts on the new ones, trying to notice the manufacturer's insignias on those by th way. Then, fixes the holster in the same place as it was before.
Leaving the wet pile of clothes lie where it is, he checks the pockets of new clothes.
Then, he comes back to the woman who seems to be kinda in charge here, and asks if any services of his professional kind are needed right now.
The clothing lacks tags or any sort of identifying markers. That is one, and perhaps the only point of difference between your old clothes and these new ones.
The woman responds to your question:
"No, just have a seat."The rest of the diving crew lower themselves into the pool in the center of the chamber. One by one, they submerge their masked faces beneath the water. A metal panel with a small, translucent window slides over the pool, and you hear pressurized water rushing as the waterlock engages itself and the divers go off into the depths.
"There will be a lot of g-force, and you're probably not used to it. See that klaxon over there?" She points her finger at the red glass circle embedded just over the doorway. There is one above every door, as you figure out when you look into the hall.
"When that goes off, put your seatbelt on. Got it?"She waits for your response, then explains that it will be approximately thirty minutes before launch. For now, the sub will be drifting over Rapture, engines disabled.
Corran considers it briefly then shrugs.
"It's not my place to make those choices, I follow orders and do my job. Do you have anybody who can study those prototypes I brought in and find out what they do for me? I'm fine with my standard kit but I'd like to know what I have to fall back on if I need it.
The tower dwellers might not all be friendly and in my line of work it's useful to know the most efficient ways of killing the people your dealing with and what you have to work with."
Place all prototypes I'm carrying with the ones I collected and keep standard weaponry only. Do an inventory of all standard weaponry that I brought in. (( I wanna adjust my kit to avoid letting potential enemies acquire prototypes. So I need to replace the prototypes with something a bit more standard.))
You reshuffle your kit in front of the cart carrying your stuff. The agents assure you that they will bring the cargo aboard with you, so you won't be leaving anything behind here out of your reach.
A few more agents stop by to examine the objects you've collected as you talk to the person rolling the cart.
"My word..." one of them exclaims quietly, looking at the syringe.
"Do you know what this means for our research?" he asks the person pulling the cart, who slows down and picks up the syringe.
"You're right... thank you Bekter. You've found just what we were looking for." he tries to shake your hand, although you don't raise yours in response, giving him a stern, questioning look.
"Well, we really should get these up to the Archive soon. Before the Illuminati figure out what happened."The Illuminati sound... altogether familiar to you. You start to perceive flashbacks... painful flashbacks of experiences you don't remember having. Strange indeed.
((Isn't Jaffa some sky pirate, and yes, I love that game. (The real-life strategum).
"What does your 'order' do? Wait, you have a order? My guys said you were a sky pirate, and a goddamn good knife fighter... Also, I'm on propaganda posters!?"
Do a little dance cuz famous 
"Hey-HEY! Control yourself!" Jaffa shouts as you leap up onto a nearby coffee table and flail your arms about. In response to him, you shake your head and step down.
A young adult, wearing a red-striped mask shaped like a human skull steps into the room and sees you standing next to Jaffa. This fellow walks up to you, his many layers of baggy clothing rubbing against each other and creating a loud rustling noise. He stops abruptly in front of Jaffa and holds up an arm.
"I am Shane."((Gamerlord's action was posted in superblackcat's roll.))
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Topic: Torn Planet - Prologue (Read 27907 times)