OE-102
3 Days following the events of "Hook, Line, and Sinker"
3:18 AM
A dark green form crested the cusp of Anemone Station... Or rather, what was left of it, catching the rays of the distant sun as it did so. It resembled an oversized glider of sorts, though the large cannon mounted atop its frame indicated it was intended for far more than simple aerodynamics. It pushed gently through the vacuum... And came to a stop, as a thin hand came up to catch its nose, slowing it to a halt, as lines of multicolored data transferred between the two of them.
The second machine was... slender, to say the least - yet it stood over 35 meters tall, looming over the debris like a scarecrow, its yellow visor and pale-green coloring differentiating it from... Well, any machine that had been seen before in the Earth Sphere, at least. No, this design looked uniquely Martian, its smooth surface and sleek, pointed design indicating its pedigree was far more refined than the comparably pedestrian Personal Troopers so commonly utilized by the inhabitants of the blue planet.
"Begin recording."
The green wing tailed the scarecrow as it drifted through the void, scanning everything in sight with a latticed, bright green wave of light emitted from its nosecone. The humanoid reached up to brush its hand against an asteroid, noting the bullet marks across its surface, Its finger reached out, and plucked an embedded round from the surface, holding it up to its face for inspection.
"Two machines." Remarked the pilot, in a monotone, feminine voice, quietly. "There was a struggle... Neither Instance got the upper hand. Residual particles indicate... A proton reactor."
The trail of particles appeared before its sensors like a sparkling trail, and it moved slowly in their wake, to the remains of what appeared to have been an entrance of some kind - now, like the rest of the Station, reduced to nothing but ruin. Another scan was conducted here, and a set of markings leading across what might have, at some point, been a hangar floor were highlighted on the machine's holographic HUD.
"Two humanoid types entered, as well as the ship... But, three leave." Remarked the pilot softly, as the scarecrow's internal database cycled through comparison items. "One of the machines was exchanged... identifying marks are similar to a Personal Trooper, but don't match any on record. A new model?"
Here, it departed from the trail, opting instead to fly around and approach the largest chunk of debris that remained, proton thrusters fluttering as it dropped to its surface, leaving the wing to drift overhead as it continued collecting footage. The thin machine dropped down, gathering a handful of some... foul, gelatinous material that had congealed on the asteroid's surface, its surface texture... a curious purple, dotted with clotted chunks of black and blue.
"Some kind of... Mutant mobile weapon." Noted the pilot, as the results of chemical analysis were displayed; "Detecting traces of... Einst?"
The scarecrow took a careful step forward across the rock, and - sensing something - slowly turned its head to a mound located to its left.
A pair of beady eyes stared out of it from a gap in the rocks, atop a smushed, almost comical face that had seen better days.
And at that exact moment, the Flatfish sprung.
Not even the Directory could have imagined just how resilient their monster had become - so much, that when they had attempted to dispose of it, it had managed to survive, and returned to avenge itself upon its ignorant creators, its rampage sparing nothing. It lunged out of its hideaway with all the speed and precision of Earth's finest predators, its emaciated form eager for nourishment, its bizarre features splitting apart into a horrifying, slavering set of jaws that were the stuff of pure nightmare.
The scarecrow watched it come, and in response its hands flexed as, with a flash of lightwave particles, its weapons of choice materialized into its grasp - a pair of what appeared to be twin daggers, both of which it whirled into a reverse grip, yellow eye flashing threateningly.
"Exterminating."
In an instant, the terrible jaws of the Flatfish clamped shut - and hit nothing but empty vacuum, causing the abomination a moment of brief confusion. There was a blinding series of lights about it, and it became vaguely aware of a stinging sensation.
It wondered, then, why it couldn't move... until, at length, its body informed its brain that it was, in fact, dead.
The Alum Arcus Finis landed behind the frozen Flatfish, gleaming proton blades de-powering, as it brought its hands back to its sides. Behind it, the Flatfish split apart with almost surgical precision into little more than ribbons of flesh, its mutant brain - the only part of its body not subject to the rampant regenerative power of the Lasmunamium that coursed through its body, now little more residue coating its assailants blades. The creature's body writhed - but only once, before it finally fell still, now little more than a twitching mess of dying, cancerous flesh.
"Instance eliminated."
...The pilot turned their gaze starward, where the trail of Proton particles stretched off into the distance. Hovering overhead, its form concealed by cloaking technology that could barely be conceived of by modern minds, the twin-horned silhouette of its ship loomed, a single red eye coming into view as it gazed down at the Finis.
It was time to go.
"Data collection complete. Resuming pursuit."
3 Days following the events of "Hook, Line, and Sinker"
3:18 AM
A dark green form crested the cusp of Anemone Station... Or rather, what was left of it, catching the rays of the distant sun as it did so. It resembled an oversized glider of sorts, though the large cannon mounted atop its frame indicated it was intended for far more than simple aerodynamics. It pushed gently through the vacuum... And came to a stop, as a thin hand came up to catch its nose, slowing it to a halt, as lines of multicolored data transferred between the two of them.
The second machine was... slender, to say the least - yet it stood over 35 meters tall, looming over the debris like a scarecrow, its yellow visor and pale-green coloring differentiating it from... Well, any machine that had been seen before in the Earth Sphere, at least. No, this design looked uniquely Martian, its smooth surface and sleek, pointed design indicating its pedigree was far more refined than the comparably pedestrian Personal Troopers so commonly utilized by the inhabitants of the blue planet.
"Begin recording."
The green wing tailed the scarecrow as it drifted through the void, scanning everything in sight with a latticed, bright green wave of light emitted from its nosecone. The humanoid reached up to brush its hand against an asteroid, noting the bullet marks across its surface, Its finger reached out, and plucked an embedded round from the surface, holding it up to its face for inspection.
"Two machines." Remarked the pilot, in a monotone, feminine voice, quietly. "There was a struggle... Neither Instance got the upper hand. Residual particles indicate... A proton reactor."
The trail of particles appeared before its sensors like a sparkling trail, and it moved slowly in their wake, to the remains of what appeared to have been an entrance of some kind - now, like the rest of the Station, reduced to nothing but ruin. Another scan was conducted here, and a set of markings leading across what might have, at some point, been a hangar floor were highlighted on the machine's holographic HUD.
"Two humanoid types entered, as well as the ship... But, three leave." Remarked the pilot softly, as the scarecrow's internal database cycled through comparison items. "One of the machines was exchanged... identifying marks are similar to a Personal Trooper, but don't match any on record. A new model?"
Here, it departed from the trail, opting instead to fly around and approach the largest chunk of debris that remained, proton thrusters fluttering as it dropped to its surface, leaving the wing to drift overhead as it continued collecting footage. The thin machine dropped down, gathering a handful of some... foul, gelatinous material that had congealed on the asteroid's surface, its surface texture... a curious purple, dotted with clotted chunks of black and blue.
"Some kind of... Mutant mobile weapon." Noted the pilot, as the results of chemical analysis were displayed; "Detecting traces of... Einst?"
The scarecrow took a careful step forward across the rock, and - sensing something - slowly turned its head to a mound located to its left.
A pair of beady eyes stared out of it from a gap in the rocks, atop a smushed, almost comical face that had seen better days.
And at that exact moment, the Flatfish sprung.
Not even the Directory could have imagined just how resilient their monster had become - so much, that when they had attempted to dispose of it, it had managed to survive, and returned to avenge itself upon its ignorant creators, its rampage sparing nothing. It lunged out of its hideaway with all the speed and precision of Earth's finest predators, its emaciated form eager for nourishment, its bizarre features splitting apart into a horrifying, slavering set of jaws that were the stuff of pure nightmare.
The scarecrow watched it come, and in response its hands flexed as, with a flash of lightwave particles, its weapons of choice materialized into its grasp - a pair of what appeared to be twin daggers, both of which it whirled into a reverse grip, yellow eye flashing threateningly.
"Exterminating."
In an instant, the terrible jaws of the Flatfish clamped shut - and hit nothing but empty vacuum, causing the abomination a moment of brief confusion. There was a blinding series of lights about it, and it became vaguely aware of a stinging sensation.
It wondered, then, why it couldn't move... until, at length, its body informed its brain that it was, in fact, dead.
The Alum Arcus Finis landed behind the frozen Flatfish, gleaming proton blades de-powering, as it brought its hands back to its sides. Behind it, the Flatfish split apart with almost surgical precision into little more than ribbons of flesh, its mutant brain - the only part of its body not subject to the rampant regenerative power of the Lasmunamium that coursed through its body, now little more residue coating its assailants blades. The creature's body writhed - but only once, before it finally fell still, now little more than a twitching mess of dying, cancerous flesh.
"Instance eliminated."
...The pilot turned their gaze starward, where the trail of Proton particles stretched off into the distance. Hovering overhead, its form concealed by cloaking technology that could barely be conceived of by modern minds, the twin-horned silhouette of its ship loomed, a single red eye coming into view as it gazed down at the Finis.
It was time to go.
"Data collection complete. Resuming pursuit."