Wolfenstein: The New Flesh [Fallout 4/Wolfenstein: TNO]

[prometheus110]

This quest will involve spoilers for both Fallout 4 and Wolfenstein: The New Order for obvious reasons.

And yes, I am jumping on the bandwagon.

"The door will automatically close when you open the containment array. It's an automated safety feature; don't be alarmed." Shaun's matter-of-fact voice rings out in the closed confines of the institute's generator room; the sound echoing off the sheer concrete walls that surround the fusion chamber and making him sound far more distant than he really was.

Turning away from the pedestal in front of you you look back towards the fusion reactor's control panel and give Shaun a long look. Even now, after all this time, it's hard for you to accept the truth. It wasn't ten years that passed in that frozen blink of an eye, it was sixty. Sixty years of life stolen way from you, away from the three of you, by Kellog.

Despite yourself you can't help but narrow your eyes at the thought of that remorseless killing machine. He was a vicious, evil man that stole your son and killed…. With an iron fist of self-control you slam your mental barriers and crush the upwelling mass of emotions before they have a chance to escape.

What's done is done and nothing can change that. There'll be time for grieving later, you tell yourself curtly as you turn back to the pedestal and remove the heavy Beryllium Agitator from your satchel with one hand. Despite your best efforts a traitorous part of your mind reminds you that you've been promising that for weeks now.

Face set and eyes hard you reach into your satchel with your free hand and tightly grasp the cold, palm-sized remote that Shaun handed you as you entered the reactor. Smiling wanly you press the remote's sole button and step back as the pedestal releases a jet of white fog from its crown with a snake-like hiss. A moment later the pedestal clicks audibly and a thin pillar emerges from its top and extends into the air. After a second or two the mist clears and reveals a hollow cavity only just large enough for the agitator sitting dead centre in the pillar. A heartbeat later the alarm outside the fusion reactor gives a single brief wail and with a soft rumble the door behind you rises out of the floor and closes with the thunk-clunk of heavy-duty locks activating.

"You'll need to insert the agitator into the cavity and press down on the pillar. That should prime the reactor and let you out."

"Uh huh…" you drawl as you move forwards.​

​

Elsewhere…..​

Doctor Ernest Klein was not having a very good day. First he had discovered that his favourite nutrition supplement had been discontinued, and then he had made a fool of himself by spilling coffee on his lab coat when he slipped on a freshly waxed patch of floor. The synth responsible had been suitably apologetic, but no amount of apologies or platitudes could erase the looks his 'colleagues' had given him when they saw him sitting stunned on the ground, a brown stain spreading all across his pristine lab coat and sweater. Upset and embarrassed Klein had almost lectured the machine before remembering that they barely rated a three on the Johnson-Creutzfeldt scale of sentience and storming back to his apartment in a huff.

As a result of those things Doctor Klein arrived to work at Advanced Sciences —"chief esoteric energy field specialist" he'd tell anyone who'd listen— late, tired, hungry and annoyed. It was here that Klein shone. His fatigue and hunger morphed into nebulous concerns that barely warranted a thought as he typed away at his terminal, inputting commands to his equipment and describing energy fields with a host of elegant mathematical formulas.

His work was new and exciting —even for people who didn't care about fifth-order energy-wave patterns and how they affected the neurons of two-headed flies. An idle thought about not just expanding the Institute's facilities up or down or sideways, but deeper. Into other places. Places that were hinted at by physics but which were never solidly confirmed. Alternate universes.

It was a shame then that he misplaced a decimal as he typed.​

The reactor…​

Carefully inserting the agitator into the cavity you pause for a moment and turn back to Shaun.

"After I do this," you say to him, your voice echoing in the tight confines of the chamber but nonetheless reaching him, "The Institute won't ever have power problems again, will it?"

"No." He replies, "We'll be completely independent from the Commonwealth. Why, we won't even need to-"

Shaun stops suddenly and frowns deeply.

"What?" You ask as you turn away from the pedestal and peer through the armoured glass of the doorway at Shaun, "What's going on?"

"Nothing," he says slowly. "Just insert the agitator and get out of th-" Before he can finish his sentence he's cut off by a loud, wet cough.

"Are you alright?" You ask quickly, worry threading its way through your voice like something poisonous.

"I'm fine," he replies quickly as he raises a hand to his mouth and moves to retrieve a handkerchief from his coat pocket with the other.

"It's just-" Once again whatever he was about to say is cut off by a cough. This time, however, something small and glowing a warm yellow exits his mouth. In shock the two of you pause and watch as the light slowly rises toward the ceiling.

"Shaun!" You cry out in horror as you slam your fist against the glass. "What's happening?!"

Stunned and confused, Shaun ignores your banging as he tracks the glowing light's journey towards the sky. Moments later you spot another mote of light appear, this time near the shoulder of his coat… No, you think quickly, from under his jacket.

"Shaun…" you say again slowly as more and more motes of light appear from beneath his clothes. "What's going on?"

"I…." he says falteringly. An instant later his eyes snap back to you, the confusion you saw in them rapidly dwindling and being replaced with panic. "I don't know!" He cries out.

It's then that you notice that the lights aren't just appearing out of nothing, they're subtracting from Shaun. As you watch a patch of skin on his cheek peels away and starts falling to the ground, a golden light growing from within it as it falls. Before it even hits the ground it bursts apart into a small cloud of golden motes that slow and then reverse their fall.

Faster and faster more of the golden lights appear. In shock you can only watch as Shaun steadily fades into a rising cloud of golden lights that rise, inexorably into the sky.

"Shaun," You cry out as you see your son slowly vanish into a cloud of light, "Listen to me! I will always love you. No matter how hard it is, no matter how many centuries I have to look, I will always love you and I will always find you." Slamming your fist into the port again and again you scream that mantra over and over.

There's a blinding flash of light from somewhere within Shaun and a white-hot spike of pain drives itself deep into your brain. Swaying back and forth you dimly notice the world at the edges of your vision begin to grow dark as you bonelessly slump against the door.

"I-" you hear Shaun say as if from a great distance and then he disappears into a cloud of motes. Stolen from you. Again.

There's another flash of light from somewhere behind your eyes.

There's a moment of disconnection as you feel your mind growing dark.

There's a clatter as a heavy weight falls to the ground from your other hand.​

Sometime later….​

Machines beep quietly in the darkness that swaddles you. At the edge of your awareness you smell the faint lavender odour of freshly laundered sheets mixing poorly with the harsh chemical stink of disinfectants.

I know that smell, you think to yourself slowly as you feel your consciousness ebb and flow like the tide on a stony beach. Back and forth, back and forth. Constantly pushing around the stones but never staying still. Always slippery, never being graspable.

It's clean… you think, safe…. Hospital.

With that you feel your consciousness crash back into place like a psychic tsunami. With a sharp breath you snap your eyes open to another blindingly bright light and wince as another lance of pain drills into your skull. Fighting the nausea that wells up within you you start to rise from the bed, still half blinded by the brilliance of the light.

Almost immediately you feel a hand on your shoulder pressing down gently but with a sense of great strength behind it. Growling a curse you grab the hand's owner by the wrist and twist in the manner Cait taught you back in the Combat Zone. Anyone: Raider, brotherhood, ghoul, or otherwise would feel the bones in their wrist grate and slide over one another. They would feel a white-hot pain that brings tears to their eyes and drops them to their knees flare into being and would beg for you to stop.

"Please stop that." Comes a curiously flat voice from out of the light. "You will do significant harm to your hand if you continue."

Stunned, you let go and almost instantly the hand redoubles its efforts and you sink back into the soft bed.

"I apologize for the use of physical force," says the voice, "But we weren't expecting you to be active so soon."

"What's going on?" You ask it, or try to anyway. Despite your best efforts it comes out as a strangled, crow-like caw.

"What's. Going. On?" You ask the voice again, this time slowly and carefully enunciating each word. As you speak you notice that the light which had been so blinding before has slowly begun to recede to merely uncomfortable rather than painful. Already you could see the faint outline of someone standing beside you, their body a hazy and indistinct mass of blacks and grays but visible nonetheless.

"There has been… an Event." Against all reason you get the sudden feeling that the voice isn't used to not having the words it needs at the ready. "We're not quite sure what."

It's then that your eyes decide to work again and almost at once your vision snaps back into place. With an imagined whirr of cameras focussing, the hazy outline of the speaker resolves itself into the blandly handsome face and body of a third generation synth.

"What do you mean 'an Event'?" You ask it, "Where is everyone? Where's Shaun?!"

Raising both hands in a surprisingly human gesture the synth urges you for calm. "Please," it says infuriatingly calmly, "we will answer your questions as best we can, soon."

Seething, you glare at the machine but nonetheless halt your panicked questions. You can see by its expression that nothing you can say or do could alter it from its predetermined path.

"Now," says the synth after a glance at something over and behind your head, "We'd like to run some tests to confirm that no lasting damage was done to you during 'The Event'. Could you please answer the following questions to the best of your ability?"

Before you can even respond the synth reaches over you and pulls something away from the wall. An instant later a boom arm-mounted device appears right in front of you, its screen displaying a confusing mess of incomprehensible graphs and datapoints that blink away and are replaced with questions. You get the feeling that the synth isn't going to let you go until you answer all of them….​

Character Generation:
[] Name.
[] Gender.
[] Appearance (can be images or descriptions)

SPECIAL:
Allocate an additional 5 points in any way to any number of stats.

Strength: 5
Perception: 5
Endurance: 5
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 5
Luck: 5

Best three skills:
[]
[]
[]

Worst three skills:
[]
[]
[]

 

[prometheus110]

Stats:

SPECIAL

S: 5 (In shape, but not too shapely)
P: 8 (Exceptionally keen-eyed)
E: 3 (Nasty, lasting trouble from cryofreeze, and the ache of the old shrapnel wound)
C: 6 (A leader of men and a successful jerky vendor)
I: 8 (An exceptionally well-educated man)
A: 8 (Reaction times like a rattlesnake on psychojet)
L: 2 (Cursed, some say, by ill fortune)

Skills

Barter	30
Energy Weapons	43
Explosives	34
Guns	34
Lockpick	24
Medicine	19
Melee Weapons	28
Repair	34
Science	44
Sneak	19
Speech	40
Survival	24
Unarmed	24

Traits

Science Specialization: Material Science
Keen Insight
Cold

Inventory

Wearing: Synth uniform/Institute civilian clothes.
Stored: ????

 

[prometheus110]

Post index:

Misc:
Introduction
Player Stats
Winning Player Character Choice

Story:
Chapter 1-1
Chapter 1-2
Chapter 1-3
Chapter 1-4
Chapter 1-5
Chapter 1-6
Chapter 1-7
Chapter 1-8

 

[Cornuthaum]

Character Generation:
[x] Name: Sean O'Hanrahan
[x] Gender: Male
[x] Appearance (can be images or descriptions): Adult caucasian male in his late thirties. Drawn, hatchet-faced, with severe eyes and an aquiline nose, lips forever distended into a sneer by shrapnel scars along the left side of his face. Wears his hazelnut hair short, no longer than two fingers width, and prefers to hide his grey-green eyes behind sunglasses. Other distinguishing marks include a burn scar on his left ring finger from when his wedding ring half-melted due to laser impacts against his combat armor and shrapnel scars along his left arm.

S: 5 (In shape, but not too shapely)
P: 8 (Exceptionally keen-eyed)
E: 3 (Nasty, lasting trouble from cryofreeze, and the ache of the old shrapnel wound)
C: 6 (A leader of men and a successful jerky vendor)
I: 8 (An exceptionally well-educated man)
A: 8 (Reaction times like a rattlesnake on psychojet)
L: 2 (Cursed, some say, by ill fortune)

Best Three Skills:
[x] Speech (A gifted orator and once-upon-a-time inspiring Lieutenant, US Army)
[x] Energy Weapons (Whether Wattz-2000 or Winchester P-94, death comes in fire.)
[x] Science (Before the draft, he was part of West-Tek's R&D team. After the war, well, the world ended.)

Worst Three Skills:
[x] Sneak (Subtlety was never his art, and he bled for it)
[x] Medicine (He is a man of science, yes, but materials science, not mushy-people-with-blood science)
[x] Lockpicking (What use did a gainfully employed pre-war man have for lockpicking? Besides, he could always just use his laser to melt off the hinges.)

 

[prometheus110]

Flicking aside the last of the panels you pause as the synth standing beside your bed suddenly raises the screen out of reach and returns it to the wall behind you.

"Everything appears to be in order," says the synth at the confused look you give it. "Your vital signs are showing nominal changes from when you first arrived at the Institute and your answers correspond with what we know about you."

"So… I'm good to go?" You ask it cautiously. Even now it takes effort to speak clearly, each word feeling like sandpaper in your throat and promising to send you into a set of wracking coughs if you're not careful.

"Yes sir," it replies, "Though I would recommend that you don't push yourself. We do not fully understand what occurred during the event and cannot say for certain whether we have missed anything."

Moving towards you slowly, no doubt so that you wouldn't mistake its actions for hostility, the Synth reaches towards your head. Almost instantly a warmth you didn't even notice was there disappears from your head and you feel the climate-controlled air of the Institute flow through your close-cropped hair. As you watch the synth withdraws, in its hands a small rubber cap covered with a profusion of electrical cables.

You recognize it almost immediately as an ECG cap and relax. You saw one like it in your West Tek days, long before the bombs fell and burned the world, while you were working on the prototypes that eventually evolved into the T-51b. Designed to pickup the electrical signals from a person's brain they were eventually dumped in favour of more reliable, mechanical solution.

"Found a use for them after all," you mutter to yourself as the Synth places the cap on a nearby table before turning back to you and offering a hand. Thankful, you grasp the hand and swing your feet off the bed before rising onto unsteady legs.

With the force of a charging brahmin you feel a wave of vertigo smack into you and the room begins to spin as if you were trapped in a tornado. Slamming your eyes shut you feel rather than see your legs give way beneath you as you begin to pitch forwards.Suddenly you feel something slam across your chest like an iron branch before curling around you and halting your fall. Startled, you open your eyes and see the arm of the synth wrapped around you, the emotionless face of the synth betraying no hint of effort.

"How long have I been out?" You ask confused at your weakness as you regain your footing and slowly rise back onto your feet.

"Several days," it replies at once. "We retrieved you from the reactor within minutes of the event but were unable to rouse you. We've been monitoring you ever since. We are grateful that you survived."

[] What happened?
[] Where's Shaun?!
[] What do you mean 'you'?

STATS UPDATED

 

[prometheus110]

With a nod from you towards the room's solitary door the synth begins to lead you out; one arm on your shoulder to steady you as you take faltering, shuffling steps away from the bed and towards freedom—and hopefully answers. As you approach the door you ponder the reason for the synth's strange wording before finally deciding to ask it outright.

"What do you mean 'you'?" You ask him cautiously as the door slides open before the two of you —its smooth motion interrupted partway through by a brief shudder. For a moment you swear a brief twitch passes across the synth's face at the question though it goes by far too swiftly for you to be certain.

Gesturing with its one free hand for you to step through the doorway the synth waits as you slowly step out into the warm artificial sunlight that illuminates the Institute's open areas. For a moment you squint against the relative brilliance of the light and the world becomes a blurred mass of greens and whites as your eyes water reflexively. Blinking your eyes rapidly adjust, just as they did in Vault 111, and the world swiftly comes into focus.

It's an area of the Institute that you haven't seen before. One of many that you were told about but never had a chance to see yourself while you were assisting the directors. Stretching out under your bare feet is a field of manicured grass the likes of which you haven't seen since you and Nora lived in Sanctuary Hills . Here and there the occasional tree dots the landscape while utilitarian cabins made of white polymer lay nestled in denser groves. Everywhere you look you see a number of Synths carefully tending the yard. Some individually, but most working in groups of two or three.

"The hell?" You mutter to yourself as you stare around the park. Aside from the sound of working synths the place is quiet, and even the bird calls and chirps of insects that you'd expect to hear are absent.

"This is the medical park," replies the Synth beside you; his voice suddenly loud in the relative quiet. "We use it for those whose injuries aren't life-threatening. The environment is said to be… comforting."

You don't respond. Instead you simply gaze at the park, breathe in the clean air, and feel the stiff grass beneath your feet. For a moment, just a moment, you feel as if you could close your eyes and open them again to the Sanctuary Hills of ages-past. Where the world is not a brutal place filled with those in a constant scrabble to survive, and where Shaun and Nora wait for you. Suddenly bubble of concern forms in you mind, a tar-like psychic presence that grows and grows until it bursts into the front of your mind.

That clever SoB... You think to yourself as you turn away from the park and back toward the Synth —the mental filter you and Nora trained for when Shaun could speak replacing your original thought with something a little friendlier.

"I asked," You say forcefully, "What you meant when you said 'you'?"

For a moment the Synth says nothing before suddenly speaking.

"We are glad that you survived," It says with the same mechanical cadence it used to tell you that you were healthy, "Because as far as we are aware, you are the sole survivor of the event that occurred six days ago. The Institute itself did not emerge unscathed, either. There has been severe damage to several systems and we've lost contact with every Institute asset on the surface. We require your guidance, Director."​

How do you react?

[] With shock
[] With anger
[] With cold acceptance
[] Write in

 

[prometheus110]

It's nowhere near as long as my other posts have been but hopefully it's still good.

=============================

You prepare yourself for the emotional backlash —for the inevitable rage and sadness that must surely follow— and as inexorable as a landslide, it comes. With a near-physical blow the emotions roll over you; a tide of anger and sadness that you can almost feel pushing you down and threatening to drown you. Following it are waves of hate at the unfairness of it all.

You had your son again. After the promise to Nora as she lay dead in the wintery bed that became her casket. After the grueling search for Kellog across the decomposing, irradiated ruins of Boston. After the cuts, and bullet wounds, and scorch marks that you feel blaze across your body again like new wounds. After all of that, he was taken away from you again. Squeezing your eyes shut you force yourself to breath in and out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

In. Out.

In….

Something within you clicks and a coldness blossom in the middle of your chest like a flower of ice. From it you can almost feel delicate filigrees of frost spreading throughout your body. The tendrils of cold acceptance stealing the warmth from your grief and curdling it between one heartbeat and the next.

Out.

Exhaling for the final time you open your eyes again and look out over the park with a newfound coldness.

"Okay," you tell the synth as your remembered wounds begin to fade until only one is left, "Take me to the atrium. There are some questions I would like answered." Idly, you scratch the stinging scar on your ring finger. The burned skin a memory of yesterdays.

"Of course, Director.' It says as it offers you an arm, "What would you like to know?"

Pick three:
[] Tell me what you know about the event.
[] You mentioned that you lost contact with surface assets. Report.
[] You would have seen the reactor when you retrieved me. What is its status?
[] Tell me about Advanced Systems division.
[] Tell me about the S.R.B division.
[] Tell me about the Biosciences division.
[] Tell me about Robotics division.
[] Write in.

 

[prometheus110]

[X] You would have seen the reactor when you retrieved me. What is its status?
[X] Tell me about Robotics division.
[X] Tell me about Advanced Systems division.
No. of votes: 3
Eurocorp, butchock, krahe

OOC: If you have any minor questions to ask then now's your chance. Also, I'm not massively happy with this update but whatever .

"You were there when I was retrieved from the reactor, correct?" You ask him as you put one foot in front of the other —steadying yourself by leaning against him as the two of you walk towards a nondescript cluster of trees growing against the wall of the chamber. With each footstep you take you can feel the strength flowing back into your limbs with gratifying swiftness.

"Were you able to get a good look at the damage while you were there?" You continue.

"Unfortunately I was not involved in that action, Director." He replies with his machine-like cadence as the two of you round a dense copse of carefully manicured trees and enter a shadowy glade.

Ahead of you —set flush with the wall— is an open doorway, and from it spills artificial light like molten gold. 'Hmming' you nod as the Synth continues his explanation.

"I am merely responsible for overseeing your recuperation. However, a team of Synthetics responsible for maintenance examined the reactor after you were removed and found that it was mostly intact."

"Mostly?" You ask as you reach the door.

Halting without warning you place one hand on the doorframe and release your grip on the Synth's arm and for a moment you sway in place for several seconds before settling. Wordlessly the synth stands beside you having halted the exact moment you did in another display of his machine precision. At a brief nod from you he continues his report as you gingerly step through the doorway and into of the Institute's countless corridors.

"Yes, sir." He replies as he follows you and gestures down the hall on your left-hand side; your destination obscured by the gentle curve of the corridor. With quiet snort of amusement you notice that he's standing just close enough to catch you should you fall again.

"The reactor itself appears to be undamaged beyond some minor scorch marks on the door," He continues as you set off down the hall. "However the agitator you retrieved…"

"Broke when I dropped it," you say gruffly as you think back to the moment before you passed out and the heavy clunk of irreplaceable technology hitting the floor.

"It's not that bad, sir!" The synth says quickly. "The device itself can be repaired using the Institute's own facilities. However the agitator's beryllium sphere has several microfractures in its structure that could potentially cause the reactor to fail should it be used without replacement. Given your background you may wish to examine the device yourself. We'd be happy to assist you with whatever you require."

"Uh huh," you say simply as an elevator appears from out behind the curve of the wall. "Look uhh….."

For a moment you feel your mind skip over a blank spot like a broken holotape player before you snap your fingers together and turn towards the synth. "I don't know your name, your uhh… designation?"

"My designation is 4N-DY, Director." Smiling blandly from out behind a short fringe of black hair and with a row of perfectly white, headstone-shaped teeth the synth continues. "Doctor Etchells called me Andy."

"All right…. Andy," You say with a bemused expression as you reach the elevator and press the glassy black call button, "What's the Robotics Division like?"

"The damage is severe. " He replies as the doors spring open and reveal a transparent, bullet-like elevator capsule sitting in a dark tunnel. "Whatever form of energy was unleashed during The Event managed to completely disrupt the programming of the production system. It's become….. unruly." With that he hits a button on the side of the elevator's wall and with a 'swish' the doors slide shut and the capsule begins to move with a jerk.

"Unruly meaning…."

"Resistant to control and violent. Very much so. We've been waiting for you to wake up in case you had any instructions. "

Of course they have, you think to yourself as the capsule jerks again —this time sideways— and you feel the smooth push of acceleration as the capsule speeds up.

"And what about Advanced Systems?" You ask as guidelights flash past the capsule's walls like ghostly bullets.

At that question Andy sighs in a surprisingly human gesture. "The energy flux associated with the event appears to have come from one of the laboratories in the Advanced Systems division. As such, the damage there was quite extensive and the primary water reclamation and air purification systems have shut-down. We are currently running off of backup systems though those were only intended to be used for a short period of time."

Hmming, you begin to ponder your options silently as you stare out the side of the capsule and at the lights that flash by. "Is there anything else that's broken?" You ask Andy after a few seconds of silence pass and for a split-second you catch sight of a strange look on his face in his reflection in the glass before it morphs back into the bland handsomeness that is the default of every synth.​

Choose one:
[] Push Andy for an answer.
[] Let it go.

Pick one:
[] Take a look at the beryllium agitator and assign synths to the other tasks.
[] Go to the Robotics Division and assign synths to the other tasks.
[] Take a look at the water and air recyclers and assign synths to the other tasks.

 

[prometheus110]

[X] Push Andy for an answer.
[X] Go to the Robotics Division and assign synths to the other tasks.

"Alright, what is it?" You ask Andy with a sigh as you turn away from the glass. Simultaneously you feel the capsule begin to slow down.

"Sir?" He asks you, his wide face tinged with a convincingly realistic look of confusion at your question.

"I saw you in the reflection," you say with a nod of your head towards the glass. "So what is it?"

For a moment, Andy just stares at you, and you almost swear you can hear the metaphorical ticking of gears as his processor works. Then, with a suddenness that startles you, he begins to explain.

"Do you recall when I mentioned earlier that we had lost all communications with the outside world?" He asks you. Nodding cautiously, you respond in the affirmative.

"In light of your recent condition and the state of affairs within the Institute I was not being entirely open as to the status of our capabilities," He replies slowly.

"Explain, please." You order sharply; only tempering your order at the sharp pulse of pain that flares in your ring finger.

Stiffening at your command in a near-imperceptible manner the synth, Andy, continues. "The primary communications system for Synthetics in the field was severely damaged by during the event and rendered inoperable. However the backup system —a hardier, less effective precursor to the primary system— managed to survive intact."

"And you've picked up transmissions from the synths? From Diamond city?" You ask him quickly. Until now, you realise, you hadn't spared a thought to what the event had done to those outside the Institute.

At your hopeful tone, Andy's face shifts from its stiff neutrality to something close to sympathy and confusion. "We…. do not really understand what transmissions we are receiving," He says finally. "We were going to wait until after you had resolved the most pressing issues before informing you about it."

Shaking your head as the capsule slows to a halt you sigh and reply, "We'll deal with that later, Andy. Just…. keep me informed about things like that."

"Of course, Director," He replies as the capsule's doors slide open with a 'swish' and reveals the bottom floor of the atrium. Stepping out of the elevator you swiftly turn towards the Robotics Division and halt at the commotion before it.

Ahead of you, clustered like ants around a sugar cube, you spot a half-dozen armed synths guarding the half-open door to the division. Even from this distance, clear across the atrium, you can see their gleaming laser rifles pointed unerringly at the entrance and the darkness beyond it. Though most of the synths are from the second and third generation you spot one black-clad synth amongst them.

That's not a great sign, you think to yourself grimly as you move towards them. In the back of your mind, you become aware of the buzz of adrenaline hitting your system; the chemical flowing into your veins like molten gold. With the newfound strength granted to you by the stimulant you to eat up the distance in a matter of moments; Andy staying doggedly by your side.

As you approach the group a sudden commotion spawns amongst the synths guarding the door. At some unseen gesture, you see the synths' postures stiffen as if an invisible wave had burst from within the doorway and rolled over them. Before you can even think to ask Andy what was going on something bursts out of the door in a mass of clawed feet and deformed arms.

For an instant you see it clearly; a hideously over-muscled tower of pallid white skin topped with a distended caricature of a human head. From its waist emerge a half-dozen malformed legs that stamp and flex as you watch it; while a forest of twitching arms burst tumor-like from its chest and back. Worst of all, you notice suddenly, is its lack of eyes. Where they should be is instead a smooth sheet of skin that bows in and out as the thing breaths.

Screeching with an all-too-human voice the thing in the doorway lunges towards the nearest synth with surprising speed for something of its size. Stretching and grasping with its many limbs the creature almost manages to make it halfway to its target before a half-dozen blue-white beams shear it in half with a sound like a chainsaw tearing into steel. Screeching louder as its upper half slams into the ground with the sickening crackle of limbs snapping like celery sticks the creature's cry begin to breakdown into an electronic wail riddled with pops and buzzes. Howling, it begins to drag itself towards its target before a lone beam slams into its forehead and the malformed synth collapses like a puppet with its strings cut.

As the creature's body stills a pair of synths breaks from the group and each grab a section of the smouldering, bisected corpse. With a heave of effort, they begin to drag the thing's body away from the doorway and towards, you notice with a frown, a pile of similar creations.

"Christ," You mutter to yourself as you watch the synths return to their positions.

"Please accept our apologies, Director," comes a new voice by your elbow. Startled out of your reverie you turn sharply only to halt as you catch sight of a familiar black coat. Standing beside you is a Courser.

"We were hoping to have resolved this problem before you were active." He continues. Unlike third generation synths, no thought was given to making Coursers aesthetically pleasing and little effort was spent on making them able to infiltrate societies. They are weapons first and foremost, and nothing could stand in the way of them and their target.

At least three inches taller than you and with a physique best described as mountainous, the Synth's deferential demeanour is at odds with the threat that radiates from it like radiation from a Corvega.​

Disturbed, you:
[X] Request a report. You need to know what's happening before you can make a decision.
[X] Demand a weapon and take action. The longer you wait out here the more likely it is that something else will come out of Robotics
[X] Request that your equipment, including power armour, is brought to you. You can afford to wait, right?
[X] Write-in

 

[prometheus110]

[X] Demand a weapon and take action. The longer you wait out here the more likely it is that something else will come out of Robotics
No. of votes: 4
Cornuthaum, Silversun17, Friend-Computer, Xon

"I'm going in. I'll need a weapon." You say as you stare into the pitch black depths beyond the broken door. The thought of confronting more of the monstrous creatures in the warren of corridors and offices leading up to the production site wasn't one you looked forwards to, but you know that leaving them be would invite disaster. And to your surprise, none of the synths argue with you —not even Andy. Instead the Courser, his dark face as impassive as ever, gestures towards a nearby guard who presents you with a gleaming example of the Institute's technical knowledge in the form of a laser rifle.

As you shift the rifle around in your hands you can't help but marvel at the design. While you were never involved in West Tech's weapons development division you had friends who were, and their constant complaints about the weighty steel body they were forced to use for their prototype laser weapons had stuck with you. In contrast, the rifle you held in your hands was built out of a plastic that, as you rapped your knuckles against it, felt as solid as iron.

"All right," you drawl as you check the charge level of the rifle's fusion cell. 90%... Not bad, you think with a shrug. As if anticipating your next question the Courser shrugs off his heavy jacket and offers it to you, the soft clinking of ammunition —and perhaps more— sounding from within hidden pouches like wind chimes.

Grateful, you take the offered jacket and put it on —rolling your shoulders slowly as you adjust to the surprisingly heavy weight of the Courser's uniform. It's too long, you note matter-of-factly, but considering the size of Coursers that's to be expected.

"The impact dampening fibres will protect you from most melee strikes," says the Courser as you cinch the belt of the overly long and roomy coat tightly around your stomach. "The energy dispersing weave will also protect you from most forms of energy weapons, but you should not encounter many energy weapons within the production facility. To ensure your safety, I will accompany you." He finishes.​

Surprised you:
[] Agree: After all, you don't know what you'll find.
[] Order him to stay: You'd be quieter without the six-foot-plus death-bot following you.​

With the decision made, you stalk towards the door and without ceremony into the darkness beyond it. Immediately you find yourself in a long and narrow corridor that ends in a T-junction whose two routes are visible to you only as patches of deeper shadows in the darkness. Slowly the corridor gains a blue-gray tinge as your eyes adjust to the dimness of the place and you begin to cautiously make your way forwards.​

Do you:
[] Advance cautiously: Careful not to attract the attention of any mutant synths. [Sneak]
[] Advance normally: The longer you wait the worse things will be when you arrive. ​