01:23.
"No-good stupid Imperious, I ought to send him to ask the Rikti for help with his stupid Nazi problem, One of the best damn tanks we've got, and no
way I can handle that bastard Rommy and his goddamn healing fuzzballs sol- oh shit."
*CLANG*
"ow ow ow fuck ow ow ow. HELP!"
01:25.
"HEAAAAAAAAALP! HEEEEEEAAAAAAALP!"
01:37.
"gotta be sand. HNRGGGGGGGG"
01:39.
"oh thank god, a little movement!"
01:42.
"Why'd it have to be an ankle. Why not something useful?"
02:55.
"SKnnnnnXXXXxxxxxznnn... SKNnnnnnnXxxxxxxznnn... "
04:27.
"Wha.. whosere?"
"Mag?"
"ysh."
"Why are you on the floor?"
"nt' sure. Locked up and crashed when I got back from ITF. Can't move a damn thing except my right ankle. Sylia?"
"Yes. Do you have an emergency unlock?"
"........"
"Mag?"
"I've.. never needed one before."
"Hmm."
"And noone else knows it."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Fuck."
"...."
"Well.. I guess you, of all people, are trustworthy. Are you in your suit?"
"No, Mag. I only stopped by to drop off something for Emet."
"You have weird hours, Sylia. You were on that task force too."
"Well.. yes."
"...OK. There's a shillelagh clipped in the footwell of the reception desk. It's in front of the shotgun, behind the laser pistols."
"OK, I have it."
"Double-tap me on the left shoulder, once on the right, and then.. *mumble*"
"Mag?"
"And then once in the crotch."
"......"
"It actually ended up being neccesary, I assure you."
*tunk-tunk tonk twak*
"you're gonna have to hit a lot harder than that, I'm afraid."
*THONK THONK KLONK TWONK*
With a firecracker pop, explosive bolts blew Mag out of his seized armor, leaving him facedown in a pile of armor plating and a worn, but well cared for,
bodystocking, similar to many of Sylia's earlier designs. Groaning, the compromised tanker tried to climb to his feet, succeeding only when Sylia hauled
him upright by main force. Mag took a hesitant step, and managed to stagger over to the reception chair, collapsing into it with a pained grunt, and
laboriously hamming out a command on the console. Behind Sylia, the entry teleporter died with a sigh.
"Sorry, Sylia." Mag said, his voice a massively different honeyed tenor. "I just shut off the entry teleporter and all the zone
teleporters."
"I understand. It's a little late, but would you care for a mask, at least?"
"No, as you say, the cat's out of the bag." Mag shrugged, then stretched, groaning at the cascade of cracks and pops this elicited. Rising from
the chair, he hobbled back to the pile of his armor, which Sylia was considering with her dispassionate stare. "bet ya a dollar a reboot is all that it
needs."
"No bet." Sylia stepped back and made a 'your move' gesture. "I think I see what happened."
Mag knelt and reached into the pile of parts, stabbing a finger into the guts of one of the plates. The pile quivered, then reorganized itself into a humanoid
shape, empty and glistening. Mag sighed. Rising again to his feet, Mag keyed a short sequence into his vambrace computer. The armor responded by splitting in
half along the left side, and Mag waved Sylia in. With a shared grunt of effort, they levered the suit to it's feet, and Mag slid into it. As the armor
clamshelled shut around him, Mag sighed again, his voice changing from the strange tenor back to his customary gravelly baritone. "And reboot is
complete.. overall performance down by 12% due to scoring and etching. Let's see the culprit."
Mag knelt, and Sylia followed suit. As she slid a finger across the floor, purple sparks arced into her fingertip. Mag repeated the manuever, and the sparks
were significantly thicker and stronger.
"Nictus energy and.. Sand?" Sylia said, a pinch of the offending material crackling purple between her fingers.
"I got hit with enough negative energy to pan-fry a water buffalo, during that ITF run."
Sylia scowled. "Yes, I know I couldn't keep Romulus occupied 100% of the time."
"Not your fault. You were operating outside your role. I'm just.. gah. Who'd have thought that the strobe rate that kind of barrage caused in my
primary field would allow sand in?"
"Not to put too fine a point on it, Mag.. but you should have."
"True." Mag rose to his feet again and moved stiffly back to the entry console. With a swiftly deepening hum, the entry teleporter renewed its
customary lightshow. "I can't assume with something this important, Sylia, so I have to ask. Will you keep my identity in confidence?"
"I will." Sylia said, her face solem. "I'd expect you to do the same for any of my girls after all."
"Indeed."
The two considered each other for long moments, the silence stretching into an uncomfortable pitch. Mag broke first, rising abruptly from the reception desk
again. "I'm going to go home and shut this down for the night. Probably be a couple days making repairs after this debacle."
"Once you're done, feel free to call me if you need a sanity check on the design. I'll expect the same help, of course."
"I... " Mag stood behind the desk, working his jaw. "I would be grateful, Sylia. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Besides, how else am I going to get the sort of raw defensive capability you have?"
"Or how am I supposed to get the damage output you have... I see." Mag walked out to face Sylia in the lobby, the light from the entry portal
coruscating across her face. "It's a deal, then." Mag said, extending his hand. Sylia nodded and took his hand, shaking it once, confidently, and
turned to go towards the locker room. Mag turned as well, heading into the teleporter bay and blinking out on his way to King's Row.
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies
"No-good stupid Imperious, I ought to send him to ask the Rikti for help with his stupid Nazi problem, One of the best damn tanks we've got, and no
way I can handle that bastard Rommy and his goddamn healing fuzzballs sol- oh shit."
*CLANG*
"ow ow ow fuck ow ow ow. HELP!"
01:25.
"HEAAAAAAAAALP! HEEEEEEAAAAAAALP!"
01:37.
"gotta be sand. HNRGGGGGGGG"
01:39.
"oh thank god, a little movement!"
01:42.
"Why'd it have to be an ankle. Why not something useful?"
02:55.
"SKnnnnnXXXXxxxxxznnn... SKNnnnnnnXxxxxxxznnn... "
04:27.
"Wha.. whosere?"
"Mag?"
"ysh."
"Why are you on the floor?"
"nt' sure. Locked up and crashed when I got back from ITF. Can't move a damn thing except my right ankle. Sylia?"
"Yes. Do you have an emergency unlock?"
"........"
"Mag?"
"I've.. never needed one before."
"Hmm."
"And noone else knows it."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Fuck."
"...."
"Well.. I guess you, of all people, are trustworthy. Are you in your suit?"
"No, Mag. I only stopped by to drop off something for Emet."
"You have weird hours, Sylia. You were on that task force too."
"Well.. yes."
"...OK. There's a shillelagh clipped in the footwell of the reception desk. It's in front of the shotgun, behind the laser pistols."
"OK, I have it."
"Double-tap me on the left shoulder, once on the right, and then.. *mumble*"
"Mag?"
"And then once in the crotch."
"......"
"It actually ended up being neccesary, I assure you."
*tunk-tunk tonk twak*
"you're gonna have to hit a lot harder than that, I'm afraid."
*THONK THONK KLONK TWONK*
With a firecracker pop, explosive bolts blew Mag out of his seized armor, leaving him facedown in a pile of armor plating and a worn, but well cared for,
bodystocking, similar to many of Sylia's earlier designs. Groaning, the compromised tanker tried to climb to his feet, succeeding only when Sylia hauled
him upright by main force. Mag took a hesitant step, and managed to stagger over to the reception chair, collapsing into it with a pained grunt, and
laboriously hamming out a command on the console. Behind Sylia, the entry teleporter died with a sigh.
"Sorry, Sylia." Mag said, his voice a massively different honeyed tenor. "I just shut off the entry teleporter and all the zone
teleporters."
"I understand. It's a little late, but would you care for a mask, at least?"
"No, as you say, the cat's out of the bag." Mag shrugged, then stretched, groaning at the cascade of cracks and pops this elicited. Rising from
the chair, he hobbled back to the pile of his armor, which Sylia was considering with her dispassionate stare. "bet ya a dollar a reboot is all that it
needs."
"No bet." Sylia stepped back and made a 'your move' gesture. "I think I see what happened."
Mag knelt and reached into the pile of parts, stabbing a finger into the guts of one of the plates. The pile quivered, then reorganized itself into a humanoid
shape, empty and glistening. Mag sighed. Rising again to his feet, Mag keyed a short sequence into his vambrace computer. The armor responded by splitting in
half along the left side, and Mag waved Sylia in. With a shared grunt of effort, they levered the suit to it's feet, and Mag slid into it. As the armor
clamshelled shut around him, Mag sighed again, his voice changing from the strange tenor back to his customary gravelly baritone. "And reboot is
complete.. overall performance down by 12% due to scoring and etching. Let's see the culprit."
Mag knelt, and Sylia followed suit. As she slid a finger across the floor, purple sparks arced into her fingertip. Mag repeated the manuever, and the sparks
were significantly thicker and stronger.
"Nictus energy and.. Sand?" Sylia said, a pinch of the offending material crackling purple between her fingers.
"I got hit with enough negative energy to pan-fry a water buffalo, during that ITF run."
Sylia scowled. "Yes, I know I couldn't keep Romulus occupied 100% of the time."
"Not your fault. You were operating outside your role. I'm just.. gah. Who'd have thought that the strobe rate that kind of barrage caused in my
primary field would allow sand in?"
"Not to put too fine a point on it, Mag.. but you should have."
"True." Mag rose to his feet again and moved stiffly back to the entry console. With a swiftly deepening hum, the entry teleporter renewed its
customary lightshow. "I can't assume with something this important, Sylia, so I have to ask. Will you keep my identity in confidence?"
"I will." Sylia said, her face solem. "I'd expect you to do the same for any of my girls after all."
"Indeed."
The two considered each other for long moments, the silence stretching into an uncomfortable pitch. Mag broke first, rising abruptly from the reception desk
again. "I'm going to go home and shut this down for the night. Probably be a couple days making repairs after this debacle."
"Once you're done, feel free to call me if you need a sanity check on the design. I'll expect the same help, of course."
"I... " Mag stood behind the desk, working his jaw. "I would be grateful, Sylia. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Besides, how else am I going to get the sort of raw defensive capability you have?"
"Or how am I supposed to get the damage output you have... I see." Mag walked out to face Sylia in the lobby, the light from the entry portal
coruscating across her face. "It's a deal, then." Mag said, extending his hand. Sylia nodded and took his hand, shaking it once, confidently, and
turned to go towards the locker room. Mag turned as well, heading into the teleporter bay and blinking out on his way to King's Row.
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies