>START! CORE, Traveller, Union Moon, Sargasso It was a balmy evening as the sun was setting on the island-chain city of Sargasso. Where the buildings weren't, greenery and vegetation ran rampant as their leaves swayed in the cool breeze. Facing east and situated in the northern half of the city, Barrier Island had the best view of the ocean darkening, and the rays of sun yet to disappear behind the mountains west fell on gentle waves. Soon, the moon would light the way, and it was expected to be a clear night, without Traveller or its many moons creating an eclipse. The city itself was built with advanced concrete materials and designed with the region's tendency for stormy coastal weather in mind. Dotted around the landscape in flood prone areas were poles. Each roughly ten feet tall each, with the first foot from the ground appearing to be made of solid metal, while the other nine feet appeared to be a thick metal mesh. These were the solution for dealing with storms and floods by pumping water down into the poles and at a mainland reservoir for purification. This wasn't a solution thought of by the Unity Protocol. It was proposed and designed by the residents. One of the residents who had little to do with the town's engineering, but found himself an engineer of solutions to problems large and small had his butt planted on a stool at a noodle stall by the western beaches. Aside from knowing what to order for dinner, he had a much bigger problem: He had nothing to do. Nowhere to ply himself or his particular set of skills, except to have dinner out after inspecting the warehouse he'd started renting for his new business. "Just dunk the noodles, I want them extra hard," he said, raising his finger as other diners were slurping away on what he thought were inferior softer noodles. "Yeah, sure thing Luca," the noodle chef said, dipping the noodles straight into the boiling water, then plonking them into his noodle broth. Luca gave a thumbs up and grabbed his chopsticks. To one side, at the far end of the noodle bar sat a surprising figure. Quite tall and poorly adjusted for the chair was something resembling an armored soldier with large bulky hands - struggling with a pair of chopsticks in metallic power-armor hands. Apparently they were conversing with taller figures, police stood behind them - in a heavy synthesized voice responding to them in turn. "Look guys: I lost my job, I've effectively had my citizenship revoked from Noir and I haven't seen anything like that. You're looking for the wrong person. Do you really want to make my day worse?" "Our report said someone with messy hair more than six feet who eats their noodles hard. You can either come in the nice way, or by force." In fustration, the figure eventually slammed its fist on the bar before reaching in with fingers: extracting something that caught Luca's eye: a solid uncooked block of ramen. Not the nice stuff either: straight from the packet. Luca was about to eat another mouthful of noodles, but he turned his head to watch the situation unfolding while those around him were trying to ignore what was going on. "Alright. Can I finish these first, at least? Its my first decent meal in 82 hours." "Didn't you hear us the first time?" "Please?" The butt of a rifle kissed the back of the figure's neck, a thunk as they sank against the desk. With long legs of battered armor, they struggled to stand before the tendons down the backs of the knees like springs of metal snapped and the leg came away. Next, the sound of handcuffs. "Nothing to see here people, just a routine arrest. I'm really getting sick of your kind, showing up like you goddamnwell own the place, taking our jobs. We've got families to feed, you fucking toaster." Somewhat ticked off that his evening had been interrupted. They stood up and pushed their noodles away with a sigh. "If you lose your job to a toaster you probably struggle with simple tasks." He pointed out. He had little egress with synthetics. The figure coughed shining black liquid onto the ground, dripping through its seemingly medieval knight-like visor with a wet slap over the grass and concrete beneath along the curb. "Kid, you really don't want to get involved. Whoever they're looking for is bad news." They hoisted the figure up off the ground on a bad knee, a bang of metal against metal as a breastplate was forced against the bonnet of a truck - cuffs backed up with something else now: a thick block of metal like a cinder block either side of their wrists - flashes of light as electrisity danced along the armor with an audiable yelp from its occupant. "You have the right to undergo no voulintary communication, you have the right to decline invasive search. Anything you say, do or think will be used against you in a court of law and all conversations hiterto are recorded." "Aghk! I didn't fucking do anything!" And just like that, they were forced into the back of the van, the two policemen hoisting themselves up into the front and starting the engine. Something about what the two 'local' policeman wasn't striking Luca as right. It wasn't just the regarding the way they read things out to the synthetic. The accent wasn't from around here either. And they seemed so informal - berrating the synth, saying they're getting their job taken. Something wasn't right. He looked over to the noodle chef and said "Hang onto my noodles for me, will you?" before he approached the van and gave the driver's side window a tap on the side. A man with thick rectangular features and a slack jaw stared back at Luca in something equal parts riot-gear to blue uniform, a panel over his left shoulder in dark blue leather and plated plastic, the rightside asymmetrically resembling a miniaturized hocky-jutt. Beneath thick eyebrows, beady eyes squinted through the glass. The slight tip of his head and the subtle crack of the window giving air between the two. "You know somethin about this personable or you gonna step off an let me do my job, boy?" He raised a finger. "Can you describe the guy who you're looking for, in detail, again?" He asked, smiling. There was a thump of something against the window: a white sheet of paper with a blotted design of armor in primative block print, a name and a bounty pressed up against the wet glass. This doesn't look terribly official... Luca said, not spotting any credible marks on the document. It could've been a private hit. The sky had apparently decided to open, rain pouring down. "Get outta here," And with that, the van started moving, a heavy wheel splashing Luca's lower half with day old rain from yesterday. For their rudeness, Luca raised right arm - which almost looked like a cybernetic limb with a grapplegun mounted under the palm and electrodes on the knuckles - and pointed it towards the back of the van - pushing a button between his wrist and his thumb and firing a length of line towards the back of the van - a piton going through the door and opening on the inside. There was firm banging from the inside. The driver put his foot down, tires screeching now as the van really started to pick up speed: yanking Luca with a jolt! He started skating on his boots for a moment before the grapplegun started reeling him towards the van - striking the back doors. A swift swing, fishtailing first then around to one side down a concrete slide through traffic - weaving through large trucks and unmanned vehicles swung Luca overhead: his body smashing flat into the armored plastisteel windscreen like a bug. The two occupants in front stared at eachother: One yanking the wheel, reeling as he pulled through a junction and out onto the freeway: picking up speed as the twin engines of the vehicle kicked in with a resounding whir. To the occupant trapped inside the van, there was a slight Luca-shaped indentation. Air was now rushing through Luca's hair: the pressure of it pinning him loosely to the front of the van - now so quick it felt like it was going to take off. Clinging to the back now, he hung on by his right hand and drew a pistol with his left, leaning out to the left and taking aim at the wing mirror. Automatic gunfire grazed Luca's pompador before the weapon jammed - the shooter striking his weapon as the cabin filled with a strange fog. Another shot and the whole thing lit up into flame -- his fully armored driver putting his foot down as the other flailed and yelped. The windscreen was now a distant memory as he switched to his sidearm, taking aim down his arm at Luca. He ducked behind the back of the van and shimmied over to the other side. Before making a move, he ran his hand through his hair, and he was fairly certain his hair didn't have a hole through it. "Son of a ..." he grumbled, grasping the top edge of the van with both hands for a moment, he grit his teeth and planted the Grapple Stunner's piton against the edge, then leapt backwards, and reeled himself towards the door again as his boot lit up in flames. The van slammed through a fixture of flowers - leaves and petals a mass of flowing flame, sticking and clinging to most of the vehicle - utterly coating Luca and its occupants in some sort of abstract high speed nonsense. The driver wiped the slimy petals from his visor, to glance over. Next to his friend who stared back in confusion sat Luca atop his lap, knees either side - the grapple-stunner stuck in the rear wall just behind his head. The two blinked at eachother, a bit unsure what to make of it - a curious back and forth of expressions - each growing more and more alarmed. They desperately wanted to ask what the hell was happening but the wide eyes and strange mouthed words and shrugs elevated into silent shouting before they finally remembered Luca was with them in the cab - having shot clean through the van and out through the front, the fixture slamming him back inside. Among the arrangements from the truck they'd smashed into were the words "GET WELL SOON", stuck to the front of the van's bonnet and "MISSING YOU" pinned to Luca's back. Some how, they were still in motion on the freeway. The van did not sound well, its first engine giving out. Luca coughed out a few petals into the cabin, before setting his arm back and punching the driver of the van in the face, directly at the visor, then feeling the man he was sitting on try to grab a weapon from the space between the seats. Luca tried elbowing the beligerent in the ribs with his left arm a few times. Luca missed, striking him in the face instead, repeatedly into the chin. Even now, he was still making hands and a confused expression at his partner, also shrugging back before the driver finally huffed his shoulders and reached for his own side-arm. The sheer amount of air rushing into the cabin made it hard to tell what was said but the tone from the guy riding shotgun suggested most of the bad words Luca wasn't fluent in as he flinched, covering his face and body as the driver - still with fertilizer over his visor opened fire on the two at point blank - nothing short of screaming even audiable. The shots rang out in the cabin, deafeningly loud in the confined space as one round struck Luca in the chest at an armoured plate and forcing the breath out of him for a moment. He was quick to react as he reached for the firearm, trying to point it at the ceiling before wrenching it out of the driver's hand. "My Yuirin is poor, my Chelti is rusty - but I can tell you're pissed!" He said - his and the driver's slamming into the dashboard together with the pistol. The roll stuck the wheel: the vehicle careening into the side-barrier. The shock of the impact made the pistol fall into the footwell. Sparks filled the cabin as the driver took punches at Luca: far too close to him for them to pick up the speed to hurt - his jaw bouncing off them like some sort of stuffed toy. The other occupant had taken a bullet to the gut and was doubled over, smothered in flowers and blood. One of the punches jutted Luca enough to knock the side door clean off, his partner's elbow striking some lever and explosive bolts sheering - and like a pressurized aircraft, his co-pilot was sucked clean out of the van from beneath Luca, who's grapple-stunner secured him in place. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" a synthesized voice screeched, banging on the wall behind them. "I'll be with you in a sec-!" Luca replied over the noise as he grabbed the driver, and slammed his head against the window to the door, glass cracking into squares of safety glass held together by the window's plastic coating. "Stop this van or you're joining your friend!" He yelled. The vehicle fishtailed and toppled onto its side with another bang from the rear occupant but kept going: the torn off door now a grinder of concrete to metal at their side. While the wheels were off the road, it was clear something kept it moving: the whirr of a tired jet engine behind it as the thing throttled up to keep going. The man in the visor clutched Luca's face, palm over nose and began pushing him toward the smeary death of the grinding passenger side cavity. What was preventing Luca from going further than he would've wanted into the grinding asphalt and sparks was the Grapple Stunner, locking his arm in place. Letting go or trying to reposition the piton would've turned his head into a long red smear. Thinking quickly, he reached for his boot and slipped a knife out of it, cutting the driver's seatbelt out with a smooth slash. It was the only thing keeping them in place. The driver sank, his grip on Luca's face now on his neck, then his collar as his legs dangled - a bump as his feet and calves disappeared under the road - screaming bloody in Luca's face as his grip weakened slowly. Luca winced as he watched the driver get dragged under the car, but gave them a boot and put them out of their misery quickly. "This line of work can be a real grind," he sighed pithily, looking ahead and seeing which way the van was going, examining the dashboard for something to disable the errant jet engine that was propelling the van. "Now which button stops this crazy thing?" Luca asked himself. A big button marked "PURGE" glowed a hot angry yellow, a cover-panel of perspex over it cracked. Luca slammed his fist into that button through the perspex. Immediately there was a deep resounding clunk and the vehicle began to roll: metal smashing into pavement and rolling sharply into the edge of the bypass bridge, teetering. The metal was worn hot, the tires dripping - an engine about half a mile up the road on fire, having kept on going without them. It was almost inevitable, the figure falling not into the grinding road now but from the height of the bypass: down into water which struck him like concrete following a seemingly endless drop. The battered van's hull growled, stress squeezing it as it started to warp. "Did we stop?!" the voice in the rear called out. Luca looked over his shoulder, reeling the Grapple Stunner back in and standing up as he looked for a hatch to peer into the back of the van with. He slid it open and looked in. "Yes. Engine's shot and everything's on its side. You okay in there?" "Alive at least.." the synthetic replied from behind a flat white faceplate, the bulky masculine space-suit form shifting. "That was pretty boss of you, back there. Why though?" "It's an offence to impersonate a police officer - or something. They were definitely not legit." Luca replied before climbing up the cabin and out of the van, then circling over to the back of it and prying the battered doors open with his hands. "They definitely weren't from around here, and the bounty sheet they showed me?" He pulled one of the doors open, having melted and broken away while it was still hot from grinding against the freeway. Whoever was inside could crouch and slip through the new opening. "Completely bogus." He stood back to give the van's last remaining occupant some room to breathe. "Who'd you piss off anyway?" "Just my debitors. The price of a barrel is going through the roof and a girl's gotta eat," the hulking suit of armor slumped its shoulders sadly. "Well," Luca said, looking behind himself and at the red streak a little further down the road - the driver had gotten pinned under the van as he fell out, and left a streak which went between Luca's legs, and that of the hulking suit of armour, ending under the burning van, "it's safe to say they aren't going to be a concern for you any more." "Sort of," the figure said, stepping from the remains and out onto the pavement - visibly dazed. There was a large dint in their helmet that would have killed a person. "They're not exactly going to deduct my debts for wiping out two collectors, are they? Still, its not like the addition of two human lives is going to be much in the way of an increase..." "That's on my tab, not yours," Luca pointed out, noticing blue and red lights and sirens getting closer and motioning for the armoured figure to hide. She and Luca ducked behind a road barrier, and made their way from the scene with their hands in their pockets. "You sure you can shoulder that?" "I've made origami out of Polygons." He shrugged while Units started to examine the scene, looking for clues. "Two milk-and-toast bounty hunters are chump change after that." "Huh. Unity, is that it? Out of the fryer and into the--" "Used to be." Luca clarified. "Oh. Good. You got somewhere to stay tonight?" "I live here actually." Luca said. "Good." The figure eyed its wrist, "Well, as of now, so do I." Luca raised his eyebrow as massive pawish hands reached for the helmet, peeling it back - revealing a glossy black neck and then finally blackness like a shop dummy, smooth and shiny -- hair pouring down like cotton candy in pink delicate fibre-optics to cover one side of the face, pouring down the giant's back. A single synthetic eye stared back, almost like a drawing or an over-sized doll's eye with ornate detail and almost antennae like eyelashes - the face looking almost like a company mascot or something that would be sprayed as graffiti. "Room for one more?" Sargasso, Ferros Block, Apartment 7-02 "My name's Yttrium Indium Manganese ... After the pigment that makes that wild ultraviolet blue?" She said, peeling off armour, allowing it to fall with a firm metallic clunk against the ground. After cracking the tiles, the softly spoken synthetic began placing them more gently. "We're usually named after points on the table that represent us. How about you, ex-unity?" Luca watched the armour come off piece by piece in his apartment as he was pulling the bullet out of his armoured jacket. Her chestplate managed to crack one of the kitchen tiles into shards. "Luca Pavone, Ex-Emergency Assault Division from the United Defence Directive. Now, kind of on my own." He introduced himself as he placed the bullet in a kidney tray with a clunk and sprayed a structol armour fixative on the hole, patching it up quickly. "Want some?" He asked, holding the spray can up. Yttrium held a hand up, suggesting she'd rather not as she continued to unbolt and remove armour plating. Curiously, she kept her massive gloves and stocking-like leg-armor, though she was peeling outer armour to reveal the pistons and other moving parts beneath. They looked well worn, like cybernetics meant for some sort of liquid body and her own form about her torso was an inky jet black, matte mostly and unpolished - naked and incredibly sexual in its form. "Taking in an eyeful... I take it you've never seen a crude imitate a person?" Yttrium said: piston like tendons working her mechanical fingers. "Rarer still to see a crude in the nude," Luca nodded upwards as he hung his jacket up and paced around his apartment in a singlet, sweatpants, and socks. He had taken his Grapple Stunner off too - ruling himself out as a cyborg as Yttrium had initially thought. "Outer-skin. Its not perfect, but its hardier than yours is, I know that much..." she said, fingers beneath her breasts: a subtle lift as they gleamed wetly before slipping her fingers away: watching them droop and slap neatly against her chest together. "...The interest humans have in these things is baffling..." she said, repeating the process. Being so much taller than he and ridiculously endowed, it was quite the display. "Bloop. Bloop..." Luca paced towards the kitchen, trying to take his mind off Yttrium's antics by getting a cup of tea. He hadn't seen much of the gynoids, but he usually heard a lot of strange stories ranging from inscrutiable warriors to anyone's playthings. "Drinks?" He said, standing by the fridge as the kettle started boiling to grab some milk. "Or don't you gynoids have tastebuds?" "We do, our palette is just... Very different. Me trying noodles is the equivalent of you really enjoying the smell of a gas-station; its not meant for my body but there's still just something very nice about it." Luca raised an eyebrow as the kettle finished boiling. "So long as you're enjoying yourself, I guess..." He poured two cups and placed one down on the kitchen counter for Yttrium to mix the milk and sugar in for her liking after Luca was done mixing his, stirring it up. "How long have you been in Sargasso, Yttrium?" "About a week. I thought I could make some money as hired muscle to get me started then play con and stay out of the way of my friends but apparently they see all." "Actually, I've got a startup that could do with some talent." Luca said, taking a sip of his tea and turning to face the gynoid. "Mind if I give you the business pitch?" "Let's hear it..." "Well, I'm still getting the 'office' set up, and gathering others." Luca started, pacing over to Yttrium and looking her in the eye. "I'm in the business of solving problems the Units can't tackle, and the UDD can't reach. So that's places beyond Traveller and abroad." He said, gesturing with his cup, making the steam rising out of it dance. "It's going to be very dangerous work - what I just rescued you from is what I can do alone." He pointed out. Perhaps this was his way of getting the errant gynoid in his pocket. "But with a whole team, we could rip an entire pirate operation to pieces - maybe even those alleged moneylenders you owe. If you're game, come to 55 Midway Beach, Barrier Island tomorrow." A lookup would show that the address in question was a small warehouse between the industrial and commercial areas in the south-eastern part of Barrier Island, close to a beach, and not far from where Luca lived. "Sure thing kid, beats being shot at," the tall figure shrugged. "If you're going to expect me in combat though, I'm gonna need newer digs than these." He looked at the pieces of armour strewn around the floor and on his kitchen counter, and drummed his fingers against his chin. "Well, I'm not bound by any regulation to hand anything I find over to the Units as evidence. If we get our hands on something better, we take it and say it fell off the back of a truck - savvy?" Luca wiggled his eyebrows. Yttrium reached for a high shelf: pistons in her fore-arm extending slowly, filling with liquid as she took a can from the highest shelf, bringing it down -- carefully turning the lid to stare down at wood polish. The scent was quite strong, the dark substance resembling honey. Dipping a finger idly into the can, she rubbed it against her face, seemingly licking it off without a mouth. "Deal." She said. Luca gave her a thumbs up. "Welcome to the Phoenix Team, then." He said, placing his cup down and offering a handshake. She extended her free arm, cradling the varnish tin in the other: the size of her fingers alone challenging the width of his wrist. Yet, for all of it, she was quite surprisingly delicate with him in her hand-shape - index-finger alone into his palm. He grabbed it and gave it a handshake. Well, a fingershake. With the deal sealed, Luca had one more question: "So, do you have anywhere else to crash here in Sargasso...?" He asked. "Nope. Do you?" Luca glanced at the door to the unused second bedroom. He was using it as a storage area, so that ruled it out. He glanced over to the couch instead. "That folds out into a bed. Will it do?" In the back of his mind, he wondered if the bed would be able to support the gynoid's weight - or if he'd have to take it to the dry cleaners afterwards. "What I really need is a bucket. Do you have a bathtub?" Yttrium replied. Luca pointed towards the bathroom over behind him. The door was open, and a bathtub was visible in the dim light. Luca's brow flattened as he glanced at the bathtub with his lips taut. "You aren't going to leave a ring in it, are you?" >FINISH!
