• Nobles of Null is a forum based roleplay site where sci-fi and magic collide. Here, Earth remains fractured and divided despite humanity reaching out to the stars. Worse still, the trans-human slaves of one major power have escaped, only to establish their own Empire, seething with resentment at abuses of the past. Even the discovery of aliens, though medieval in development, has failed to rally these squabbling children of Earth together with its far darker implications. Worse still, is the discovery of the impossible - magic. Practiced by the alien locals, nearly depleted and therefore rare, its reality warping abilities remains abstract and distant to the general populace. All the while, unseen in the darkness of space, forces from without threaten to press in. For those with eyes opened by insight, it is clear that an era is about to end, and that a new age will dawn.

Chapter 4: Stalin Rain

Ray of Meep

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"The Fjord's been hit. Daheim Zwei's undergoing evasive maneuvers to dodge the debris and the PDC rounds it (the cruiser) put out. There's a lot of noise coming from the ground, saying a few government buildings have been hit, including where the diplomats are meeting." Suppressing her panic, Ulrike reported through the comms. "Lancers, please confirm your status." She asked, but it was more of a plea.

"Cobalt reporting, we suffered light casualties, but everyone's still standing," Eberhard looked at his team, but then spotted Froststorm stowing away his laser pistol, subtly drawing out his assault rifle and staring daggers at one of the guards. "We might have an issue. Cobalt out."

"... Roger that." Ulrike sighed while Eberhard glared at the TF52 member. Froststorm glared back, now butting his barrel against the guard's head, who twitched and snarled in response. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill these fuckers right now." He stated in a cold anger.
 

Acewing13

Member
"Just in case they have information on what the hell is going on?" Beatrix asked, popping off her faceplate to look Froststorm in the eye. "No reason to be hasty about killing them when you can torture 'em and put them on the firing line later. Hell, I'll join you when we've made sure they're no use to anyone. Though," she added, putting her hand on her medbag, "If you're going to kill them, I'd rather a decision be made before I waste any supplies on them."
 

DUCATISLO

Member
Žana after hearing this limply slithers to the two arguing as she then looks at the guard a bit tired but annoyed. "because they are our prisoners that we captured me including for information and we need them alive since they could know something we don't oh and also killing prisoners is a war crime but I can see why you hate them a lot I can understand that but at least try getting some information out of them before they mysteriously die in their cells."

Žana then holds her stomach as she was a bit in pain from the blast.
 

Poe

Member
As Eberhard's demeanour changed, Renee followed his gaze towards Froststorm, and frowned behind her helmet. She herself reached for the pistol stowed on her side, wincing slightly as the injury on her arm sent a pang of pain through her nervous system. She would still be able to shoot if necessary, she hoped, feeling a little adrenaline kick in as her breathing became shallower.

"You kill these people, and we are no closer to finding out who killed your sister," Renee said slowly, hand now firmly gripping the grip of her pistol. "You want revenge on the people who did it, not their minions. Killing their servants won't hurt the people behind her death." She continued in the slow tone, taking a tentative and incredibly slow step towards Froststorm. She was used to defusing hostage situations, but... not when the person taking the hostage was a colleague, let alone a fully-trained and fully-armed soldier.
 

Uso

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Mari turned left and briskly walked face first into the wall, causing the rack of servers to shake and restart. Then Mari KEPT walking into the wall, just perpetually trying to take steps forward with their face pressed up against the server rack. "What?... NOW?!" She shouted, Mari's synthized voice sounding like it was more distant than before. "There's a spaceship falling on me. I gotta move. B-R-B."
 

Piston1937

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Jamison didn't trust everything was over, though as his adreniline was dimming out and his shoulder was really starting to hurt. He did howerver keep his weapon focused on the corridor.
 
Caleb wiped off the spit that had barely managed to make it to his chest, onto his duster, it was still gross. "Really? Something is wrong with you". He stood up, and swiftly planted his foot in the man's face breaking his nose.

He looked over at Froststorm, glaring in his direction, he turned off the safety on his pistol, but made no move to lift the weapon. This was becoming complicated and Mari's actions seemed strange, but began to make sense after her words. He turned to the other prisoner they had. "And you? My companion Froststorm here wants to see you dead, so you can talk, and keep you as a prisoner, or maybe you're not a prisoner anymore, and are therefore an enemy combatant." The threat was implied, and was more than obvious, you talk, or you die.
 

Ray of Meep

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The man whimpered under the pain, blood flowing out of his nostrils while Froststorm growled back at the Lancers. "Of course you're going to protect one of your own." He raised his rifle, almost pointing it at Renee, and hissed, a strange accent betraying itself through his audible anger. "You have no place to speak of my sister. Her death was your people's faults. I'll never forgive you for that."

"Knock it off." Shephard pushed Froststorm on the shoulder, shoving him right into Billhook who just now approached, catching his rather rowdy subordinate and giving him a cold glare. Froststorm gave one more angry growl before storming off. Billhook looked back at the Lancers with a professional, leery gaze. "We're going to go help out our countrymen, get Mari out of that rubble and relocate her to our base." Toybob walked from behind the Task Force's captain, standing next to Shephard. "Toybob and Shephard will stay with you as you finish your investigations here and escort the captives back to base."
 

DUCATISLO

Member
žana looking around at the situation she just has a blank stare but the one that says "I have no idea wtf is going on" type. she then slithers a bit closer just in case it doesn't go out of hand. she then looks at shepherd and says: "uhh you think we should maybe go back to our base of operations and maybe have a mission brief on what happened today? and maybe take care of our prisoners...and sorry if the lancers did something wrong they get a bit...weird at times hehe" her face was a bit embarrassed.
 

Acewing13

Member
"I don't think we're the ones that have to excuse their teammate's inability to remember that revenge is a dish best served cold," Beatrix said, pulling up Zana's suit diagnostics on her HUD and uncapping a new can of medfoam. "Now, hold still, you're rubbing your wounds raw."
 

Piston1937

Member
Wiki Moderator
With nothing bad having happened, in the corridor he was facing at least, Jamison decided that he could take the strain off his broken shoulder and lowered the weapon to lay across his chest. Even that small movement made his shouler flare up with white hot pain but gritting his teeth he moved past it and picked up his barricade. "Castle ready for exfil." He ignored Frost as he stormed past and stood there waiting for either something to come kill them, the building to fall on their heads or for the order to leave this place happened, though if they could leave quickly so he could get a doc to look at his shoulder it would be nice.
 

DUCATISLO

Member
"I don't think we're the ones that have to excuse their teammate's inability to remember that revenge is a dish best served cold," Beatrix said, pulling up Zana's suit diagnostics on her HUD and uncapping a new can of medfoam. "Now, hold still, you're rubbing your wounds raw."
Žana made a slight grunt sound but she let him patch her up
 

TheFirstOne

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"I SAID I'M COMMING!!!" Mari shouted, still walking into the server wall, her face pressed right up against it as her body kept trying to move forward. This was followed by a low rumble, and some more muted words that only barely came out from Mari's form "....where is my datapad anyways?.... encryption keys.... " There was a sharp 'Pop' that sounded a lot like someone hurriedly grabbing something that was a bit too close to a microphone. This caused Mari to spin around in place three times and then move over to the other side of the room, slamming into the server rack on that side at a slight angle which caused Mari to awkwardly move forward while face-first against the server racks, slowly moving towards the corner of the room where Mari's head ended up wedged into the corner.

She was still trying to move forward, but at least her body was staying put against the corner.
 
Caleb grabbed the one without a broken nose by the improvised handcuffs, and pulled him onto his knees, leaving him there for a moment. "Move and die." He says to the man as he looks over Mari's actions "Toybob, can you grab Mari, we will need to figure out a way to get them out of here safely, but I have no idea how to deal with this." He walks back over to the man on his knees, pulling him up to his feet. "I'll take this moron, and someone else should grab the other one, since Froststorm didn't kill him."
 

Ray of Meep

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-----Two hours later, Task Force 52's HQ, Chekhovsk Industrial District outskirts-----

Every room's monitors displayed the same four figures split into four quadrants on the screen. The GDW Admiral Vencencio, the man who the Lancers met personally, was seen standing in the Fjord's bridge. It was a large room, a standard command table in the center where the captain stood, allowing them to have a 360 degree view of the entire bridge around them, monitors made a malleable plastic material lining the walls and rotating crash couches where personnel sat. Typically, even for a cruiser, there were a dozen people on the bridge but today it seemed it was more crowded. The crew were dutifully performing their tasks, most of their backs turned away from the camera towards their monitors. The admiral himself carried a stern and calm look, his uniform jumpsuit straight, with not a single speck of dust out of place on his entire body. It was as if nothing transpired, yet the reality of the situation betrayed itself. On his belt was an emergency oxygen mask and a tank, and what looked to be two armed marines in Lancaster-Class IVAS' could be seen hiding on the edges of the frame.

"... At 50-12, 10-04-2320 Standard Time, the GDWS Fjord was attacked by several missiles in Low Kitezh Orbit." The Admiral reported emotionlessly. "Initial reports suggest they carry stealth capabilities that bypassed the cruiser's defense grid. Commonwealth munitions have been fired in Soyuz space. One of the Fjord's drive cones have been damaged and the habitation module struck, resulting in five dead and ten wounded. As the admiral overseeing of this diplomatic expedition, I place no fault on the Soyuz space command. They came to the Fjord's aid as soon as the missiles were detected, and have been aiding in repairs and casualty assessment since. I repeat, the Soyuz bears no responsibility for this attack on GDW assets. This is the act of a rogue, third party."

In the other quadrants were one of the surviving GDW diplomats on the ground, the Kitezh governor, and the Kitezh orbital defense commander. They mostly repeated the same points, describing the incident on the ground, the damage endured, the immediate steps taken to reduce the impact, and reiteration of zero faults of either the Commonwealth or the Soyuz. It seemed the detonations in Chekhovsk were designed to cause as much chaos as possible. With skyscrapers this tall, local engineers tried to ensure that any structural failure resulted in collapse inwards, minimizing the area of destruction, but the explosives purposefully flung material outward, down onto the streets and smaller buildings, resulting in a brief, but highly deadly rain of steel and concrete that struck the ground with the force of military grade munitions. For the targets themselves, the diplomat teams of both sides, the casualties were relatively low, but current estimates of civilian casualties measured over a hundred and climbing.

Eberhard's eyebrows were knit as he watched the address in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Let's hope this message gets to the rest of human space, before something else does." He muttered to himself. A quick calculation in his head told him it'd be seven hours before the beam of light reaches the SLE in the system, travels through the truncated space-time it created, before reaching Sol, finding itself captured by a deep space communication array then amplified and beamed to the rest of the system. Seven hours to report to the rest of humanity that all hell broke loose, but please don't panic.

He tried not to think about it, yet his mind wandered there anyways. Miscommunication and time lag contributed to the Hawking Rebellion. What was going to happen here?

Eberhard shook his head, instead focusing on the matter at hand. Their mission objective stayed the same: find out who was responsible for the terrorist attack months before, and why. Now, it was simply that a new attack was added to the list of questions. He looked at his datapad, which displayed three separate cells, each for an armed employee of Omnigrow they captured. Before then, he'd let the Lancers take a 24 hour break, allowing them to cool down and treat their wounds first.
 

Poe

Member
The events of the past few hours ran on a repeating reel in Renee's head. Breach. Grenade. Droids. Burns. Breach. Froststorm. Breach. Grenade... it was a never-ending litany of mistake upon mistake upon mistake. She was a Commander', for fuck's sake - she wasn't supposed to make mistakes, certainly not as a Lancer. This was a special role, and she'd already fucked it up. Renee was jerked back to reality with a jolt of pain as the medic tending to her wounds grazed against the burned skin. "Putain!" she hissed, recoiling instinctively and shooting daggers at the medic, before softening her expression and looking towards the ground, listening to the broadcast without watching it.

A rogue, third party, hey? Renee shook her head imperceptibly, placing her good hand on the medical bed to prop herself up a little more. The casualities... Renee didn't let it get to her. She couldn't, she couldn't blame herself, even if she wanted to, because that would help nobody - it wouldn't bring back the dead, or console their families.

The medic gave Renee a pat on her shoulder, symbolising that they were done with their work. The French Lancer gave the aid a grateful nod, before slipping off of the side of the bed and out the door. She was not wearing her familiar turtleneck, but a short-sleeved, light grey shirt that had been issued by the medics so as to not rub against the bandaged burn. It left her arms - and her old tattoo - on display, which Renee did not like at all. She tried to keep a low profile as she skulked through the corridors of Task Force 52's headquarters.
 

Ray of Meep

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Renee was immediately made aware of someone lurking, watching behind her. Turning around, she'd see Toybob at the other end of the hallway. The Mongolian-descent was simply attired as well, a form fitting grey shirt, cargo pants and boots. Eerily, a holstered pistol was attached to his belt. He eyed Renee cautiously as they made eye contact, not the as harsh or hostile as Froststorm's, but more that of a cat placed in a new home for the first time, facing a new human.

"You're wandering around." Toybob walked up, his cover blown, stating plainly. "How are you recovering from your injuries? Is there anything I can help with?" His tone was muddied by the translator on his belt, but the message was clear: We don't like you just walking around.
 

Poe

Member
The footsteps were soft, but not soft enough. Renee whipped around to see Toybob and steeled her face, straightening up into an obviously hostile pose as her eyes noticed the pistol on his belt. That would not have been too odd had the man been in armour, but he was in slacks. Almost instinctively, Renee slowly reached for her belt, only to find her pistol was not there - fuck, of course. She had had to disarm when she had entered the medbay, and the nurses had said that her weapons would be dropped back into storage. Not wanting the gesture to be too obvious, Renee moved her other hand in synchrony and placed them both in her pockets.

She noted his tone with distaste, raising her head slightly to regard him down the end of her nose. "Am I not allowed to walk within the permitted areas without an escort?" she snapped back, ignoring the fake attempt at pleasantries. The pain of her injuries had soured her mood, and this interaction was only adding to her short temper. "I would be more wary of your own team, if I were you," she growled in a quieter voice, a clear reference to the earlier disobedience of Froststorm.
 

Ray of Meep

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"Orders are orders." Toybob shrugged defensively, "If our capital didn't get blown up twice this year already, I'd be more lenient." He admitted. "Maybe."

"As for Froststorm..." He looked to the wall, as if trying to looking to a distance somewhere, likely the city center where most of the chaos is occurring. His eyes betrayed concern, apprehension. Toybob looked back to Renee. "He's loyal. He'll get disciplined for his actions, but he's a good member of the team." The Mongolian scanned Renee. Staring into his eyes was like watching a loading screen, as he tried to balance humanity with rigid, draconian orders.

"I'd rather you just stay in one place." Toybob alas, flatly declared. "Shit's going down, and one less foreign wanderer in our base will make me feel a lot better."
 
Further down the hall Caleb can be seen walking across the hallway into one of the locker rooms. "Do not touch the S-1911's, they don't need to be cleaned and oiled! I will do it myself. Yes, I know it's your job, and no I don't care that I should be in my room. I came down here for two reasons, first, to make sure that my team mates are alright, and second to make sure that no one touches my weapons. This was just closer than the infirmary..."

He is unceremoniously ousted from the room, and half stumbles out. "Lo digo en serio, idiota" The door closes in his face, and a face like a thundercloud stares at the door. He notices Renee and Toybob down the hall and turns, a hint of the anger still there, but mostly gone. "Glad you're up, how's the burns?"
 
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