crux_fleet | Doom 3 Event: Part 2 Log

Entry tags:

Doom 3 Event: Part 2 Log

Who: Everyone!
What: Part 2 of the Event. Kicking butt mostly.
When: Anytime during the event
Where: In the rip and around it.
Warnings: Violence.

To say that demons patrolled the area would be a lie. They didn't have the mental process to actively work up something of that sort. Instead, they simply waited where they were, hoping for someone to come across their paths. For some demons, they'd happily get in fights with their own brethren if provoked into it. Their only allegiance seemed to lay in causing as much chaos as possible and straight up killing.

Occasionally, they ventured outside the hole in space but with the current incursion of others, they tended to stay inside. All the better fighting took place inside anyway. And other than the guests, there were more than a few AFLAK agents inside the hole. The demons were definitely ready for the amusement that was inevitably going to be showing its face.

[OOC: Everyone is free to start their own threads with this! Saturday, the crystal destruction thread will go up. NPCs/enemies will visit threads and feel free to request any that you want specifically.]

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Well, congratulations, terrible starship space adventure. You have exceeded yourself in finding ways to make Deadlock hate EVERYTHING. He's so busy hating ALL THE THINGS that he tries to take some of the energy out on a perimeter patrol.

Marginally to be, you know, kind of militarily useful, but mostly in hopes he could punch the scrap out of something while he's out here.

He hears something, and whirls, snarling. "Gonna have to try harder than that to sneak up on me!" Because obviously, this was personal.

It wasn't really trying to be sneaky. No, a good look at it would show that it had no way to not make noise, being a skeleton with cybernetic parts and a missile launcher. Of course, it's brain was lightly confused with the fact that he was facing a robot and not something living. So it waffled a moment as it decided whether to fire or not.

Excuse you stupid skeleton, but Deadlock is a robot and something very much living.

Also, very much torqued off.

And Deadlock doesn't hesitate. There's something looking at him in a vaguely shooty way? He's gonna shoot back. It's just how he rolls. What? He's got these nice guns. It'd be a shame not to use them.

Deadlock's larger size is probably a big help. Said skelebot is really not much bigger than a human so in a flash of sparks and flying bones, it falls apart under the onslaught. Hopefully Deadlock is entirely appeased yet.

No, it is Deadlock's larger 'awesomeness' that gives him the advantage. Get it right, gross thing. Least you can do something right before you explode and scrap.

Sadly now he just wants to look for trouble. Lots of it. He's gonna stomp down the corridor, with a great bit 'shoot me I'm hostile' sign.

It wasn't long before there was a rumbling in the corridors. If there was a glass of water on the floor, it would have had waves every so often. The steps of whatever was coming was just that big.

Yeah...that sounds ominously big. But Deadlock's used to that--have you met his boss Turmoil? You know, the guy he kicked in the face?

"I hear you sneaking around. Coward." Come around that corner so Deadlock doesn't have to move too much to shoot your stupid head off.

"COWARD? WHO DARES CALL ME THAT?"

The thing bounded around the corner. A true demon with horns, wings, and red skin. It was so large it had to bend over to fit in the area. In it's hand was a whip with razor sharp bits of metal embedded in it.

"Someone who's not a coward!" Yeah, he's been practicing that line for just the right occasion. He can cross it off his bucket list now.

Th-then again, he might be crossing everything off his bucket list all at once because what the FRAG is that thing?

No one ever called Deadlock bright, and a bright mech would make a tactical retreat by now. Instead, he draws both guns--aren't you lucky, ugly--and starts firing, yelling incoherently, because, uh, NOISE.

The monster roared in reply but didn't charge forward. He simply took the fire and slowly walked towards Deadlock. The shots did damage but the wounds just healed in a puff of blood.

"ONLY COWARDS WOULD HIDE BEHIND GUNS! A TRUE WARRIOR WOULD MEET HIS FOE FACE TO FACE!"

His arm reared back and sent the whip shooting forward, wrapping itself around one of Deadlock's arms. If he were less mechanical, it would have severed it. Instead, it just grasped it and screeched loudly as metal rubbed against metal.

Well, that was alarming. And Deadlock reacts to alarm the same way he reacts to just about everything: by escalating violence.

"You think so? Try this face then!" He'll pound down the corridor, launching himself headlong at the creature, until he was brought up--embarrassingly short--by the whip. Which really fraggin' hurts!

The beast chuckled at his aggression. It was just up his alley, after all.

"You might just yet make a good servant for the Blood God. After all, he cares not where the blood comes from as long as it is spilled."

With that, he pulls HARD on the whip in an effort to jerk the machine over.

"Frag your blood god. Don't even have blood!" So there, ugly. Only gross organics have blood. He's neither.

However, he does have, you know, pain sensors, and that fraggin' hurts. "Hey!" Screw fairness, he's shooting. Or trying to, if being jerked around like that doesn't frag up his aim.

He has no issue laughing off the pain in return. In fact, his laughter shakes the corridor.

"No one can call you a coward, I see! You would be intent on going down fighting. You will make a good specimen. Or sacrifice."

Another loud laugh and Deadlock is getting pulled down the hallway, to parts unknown.

Frag, this guy could give Turmoil a run for the money in the Creepy Big Bully category. It would be a very slow, lumbering run.

"Or slaggin' victor." You forgot Option C in your multiple choice test, there, ugly. Don't worry, Deadlock's got it for you, flailingg to try to kick at, well, anything.

"Feel glad that I simply do not have you possessed right now. Being a machine does not make you immune to that."

What a horrifying life it would be to share a body with a demon. Regardless of the flailing, he bodily tosses Deadlock into a room and slams the door shut after releasing the whip. Now to summon some demon guards because it can never be that easy.

While on the route to escape this hellhole, Francœur suddenly stopped. His hearing, while usually keen to anything musical, had picked up a familiar voice. Was there more here, taken just as he was? As terrified as he was of this place, he could not just abandon someone here.

He clicked under his breath, quietly urging for Flashpoint's attention. He followed the faint sounds until he reached the next corridor. He peeked around the corner just in time to see a familiar robot thrown into a room. The big beast left, only to be replaced by a number of smaller guards. He looked desperately at Flashpoint for what her decision would be. He wanted to help but he could not do this alone.

"What?" she says before stopping to listen--sloppy of her really, in her heyday it'd have been different--but her optics follow Francœur's signals intently and then she hears it too. Voices, one of them familiar? She follows after him, footplates scuffing softly on the floor instead of their usual heavy stomp. She rumbles thoughtfully at the scene. Lots of guards, could be chaos.

Flashpoint's optics flick down to her bug buddy. "Can you do that thing you did before? Distract 'em?" Then she can break the door down. Because, ya know, finesse is totally Francœur's department.

He softly rasped as he nodded. They were not like that large one from before; he should be able to handle them. He turned the guitar in his hands and he began playing a romantic melody. Luckily, the corridors carried sound rather well and each guard fell under the effects of the music.

Francœur stepped out of hiding, leading the guards away from the door. He was not sure exactly what type of dance it was that they were doing, if it could even be called a dance at all. It looked, frankly, incredibly embarrassing and he was not sure if he should be watching them do this. His red eyes glanced up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the demons dancing around him.

Edited 2014-08-10 08:23 (UTC)

Deadlock has had better days. That seems to be his constant refrain since he's arrived here, but. srsly. This kind of sucked. Big gross pink demon thing with a whip who was sort of like Turmoil but with an even worse sense of humor, and then this fraggin' room which he's been trying to get out of.

All he's got for his efforts at self-rescue (shush that is so not a euphemism for something kinky!) is a whanging headache, and a door that's been dented.

He must have knocked something loose with that last face-barrage, because he can swear he hears music. "Hey, Shut up. Trying to think in here." Trying.

Her mouth twitches into a crooked smile as the music does its trick. "I have no idea what kind of dance that is but it looks lewd and ridiculous at the same time."

She's just going to slip past the group and their demon-salsa-ing or whatever it is and approach the door. But wow there's a familiar voice. She said Deadlock made a good damsel in distress but this is getting out of hand. "Oh, it's him" she says loudly, "Maybe. I. should. just. leave. him. in. there." Loud enough for him to hear, of course. Not like she means it...that much.

He hummed pitifully in response to her comment. It was everything she described and more, but he could not stop playing.

"Krr?" he chirped in a questioning tone. Was Flashpoint serious about leaving him? He hoped not.

He almost wishes he could see this dancing they, well, she, were talking about, but that would involve actually showing curiosity and, yeah, we can't have that.

Until. "NO! Wait. Hey! Since you're here and all." He's the worst at wheedling. That doesn't even come close, does it. "Besides, its' no fraggin' time for music and dancing and scrap like you're doing."

Well, Deadlock probably will see it in just a moment, because really how could she deprive him of such a glorious sight?

She turns to look shocked that he's heard her--excellent proof that Flashpoint shouldn't quit her day job and go into acting--and then shrugs at his wheedling. "Oh, well I suppose it would be cruel to leave you here to harass the demons forever." Mostly for the demons. "And it absolutely is the time for music and dancing. Because that is exactly the thing that will allow me to get you out of here."

Out comes that combat utility knife that is more utility and less knife, along with a slender pick-like tool. Her face disappears from the cell door window but then there's a jangle in the lock. This is so old school though it hurts, she'd be much faster if it were an electronic lock. Flashpoint looks over her shoulder to make sure Chirpy is still keeping the guards entertained since this might take a few tries.

Her acting made it obvious she was not serious. He smiled; their antics vaguely reminded him of a certain couple he knew back home.

When Flashpoint looked over, the group was still dancing as lewdly as ever. One of them bumped its rotting rump into Francœur. He tried to ignore it, looking helplessly at Flashpoint. The faster she got that door open the better; he wanted to be far away from these demons as soon as possible.

He would be fun to attack just saying.

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bc rescuing is totally the IN thing to do

All the fleas in Paris are doing it

Hurray rescue!

whooops guess what loser didn't track this? >_<

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