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R + R; Well deserved rest
Topic Started: Jun 22 2012, 09:12 AM (1,164 Views)
LornMind
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Epsilon exits the room and heads over to the adjacent room to find Jagd in his enormous rubbery condom suit. "Alright Jagd," he says plainly, "Let's hope you haven't gone and died on me. The worst is yet to come." He sets his bag down and looks over at him. "The titanium coating is going to take the longest, after which I'll do the bionic arm and then serve up the nanite injections to ensure you recover quickly."

He taps his chin and adds, "The skeletal coating will be the most traumatic part of the operation, so if you can make it alive through that, you'll be set. More or less. There's still the matter of your extensive burns..." His foot tapping anxiously, he asks, "How much stem cell solution is on hand here? If they've got...oh, say 300 cc's worth, I should be able to work it into a simple burn cream and get your skin healing smoothly. Sorta. I'll also need a healthy tissue sample to work into the cream as well as an initiation vector." He sighs. "Unless you'd rather just have burn scars."
When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got.
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Gleam
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Jagd glances up from where he was watching the news. "Epsilon." he replies, and stands. "Siobhana carries supply of stem cell CC since Fraulein incident, basement containment lab. For regenerative purposes." The mercenary frowns at the bandaged crater of his shoulder. "In current case useless for limb replacement but should aid all other endeavors. Burns distasteful, impair necessary mobility. Remove much as possible."

Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.

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LornMind
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"I'll ask her for the amount I need then," replies Epsilon, "And we'll then get those burns removed. Last thing we need is you being restricted in your movement." He chuckles and then frowns. "Your arm is going to be an issue. I can replace it with a bionic prosthetic. Increased crushing power, root it into your skeletal structure so that it's firmly anchored, and even toss some nifty little tidbits to it if you like...Or..."

He paces anxiously and says, "You're seithr-null. But if I can fit the arm with seithr generators, filters and reactors, I can fix that. You'll be seithr-null...but your arm won't be. You'll be able to seal up your own weapons, use less...invasive means of entering buildings without support from the twins. You'll be more self-sufficient. More or less. Human boulder or not, you'll still need support, but with a seithr-capable arm, you could at least get more done with less help."

He pictures Jagd with a seithr-capable arm and then chuckles. The image that flashes through his mind is Jagd blowing the lock open with a seithr pulse instead of a shotgun shell. He smiles.

"Or you'll keep doing things the way you've always done them, just with an arm that can do some fancy shit."
When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got.
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Gleam
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"Resealing tremendous advantage, very desirable." Jagd agrees with a nod. "Make modifications. Stability primary concern still -"

The television reporter says his name, and Jagd's attention focuses abruptly on the screen.

" - Asimov Metschulin is a foreign fugitive who does not have a positively identified point of origin. Despite apparent autism, he is the operations director of a private military contractor called Monoc Securities, which specializes in Lowlands operation and now, apparently, terrorism. He is a trained killer, and any citizens who spot him are advised to immediately hide and call the authorities.

His lackies are Rueham Agley, a former NOL pilot who absconded with his assigned Shebalve; Isley and Ashley Dunmainn, sisters with degrees in computing; Hannah Gaspar, a mechanic much like Rusty Hetfield; Michael Bardock, a former security guard and accredited sniper; and Siobhana MacClatchley, the CEO of Monoc Enterprises. All are to be considered armed and dangerous at all times; please remember these are individuals who draw a paycheck through murder and violence, and DO NOT contact or engage them - just call the authorities and hide.

It is suspected that the Monoc cartel is the head of a wide, underground crime ring, though their main source of illicit revenue is uncertain as of the moment. Charges for the surrender of all Monoc assets have been set, but proceedings have been frozen, as Siobhana MacClatchley has alleged prior commission by a Duodecim client. The evidence is currently under investigation - until it is complete, all financiers are advised to suspend business with Monoc Securities in order to avoid implication.

Once again, Jagd Asimov Metschulin and his associates are all experienced criminals, please, for your own safety, do not attempt to stop them. Merely contact the appropriate authorities, and the NOL will come to defend you."


Jagd's face ripples, and teeth flash from beneath his lips.

"I am not autistic merely because of a mode of speech." he tells the television set, each word carefully enunciated, something very ugly surfacing in his expression.
Edited by Gleam, Jun 26 2012, 10:13 PM.
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.

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LornMind
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Epsilon pulls slightly away from Jagd. He was pissed. "And I agree Jagd," says Epsilon carefully, "But now is not the time to get angry about the boneheaded allegations levied against you by the evidently coal-powered intellect of the NOL media office. Right now is the time to get you fixed up and prove to these cock-suckers who they're fucking messing with." He pulls out several seithr reactors, generators and filters that he worked on while dealing with Rusty along with several boxes of clanging parts.

With great precision, he begins the laborious task of putting together a bionic arm for Jagd. "As soon as this arm is put together, we can stick into onto your body and then use it along with nanites, a stem cell propagation vector and this..." He holds up a vial of liquid titanium alloy, "To coat your bones with a thin veneer of it." He frowns. "We only get one shot at this Jagd. If the alloy doesn't properly spread itself along the skeletal structure, it'll just sit in you. It's not harmful, but it's not exactly useful either."
When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got.
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Gleam
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Jagd nods, his expression smoothing over like combed sand. "Correct." he replies. "Siobhana capable of slander suit at later date."

He glances at Epsilon, curious. "Why lack of retries concern? War unforgiving. Bullets unmerciful. Survival shall occur or not. Uncomplicated. Do procedure - if failure is result, pirate hook acceptable alternative. "

A shrug. "I fight, you engineer. Shall trust expertise."
Edited by Gleam, Jun 26 2012, 10:45 PM.
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.

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LornMind
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Epsilon nods and says quietly, "Alright Jagd. Let's get this shit underway then." He sighs internally. It meant a great deal that Jagd was effectively entrusting the use of a significant piece of his body to him and his repair skills, but the weight and fear of failure weighed heavier on Epsilon than ever. "This arm is almost done. Get a nurse in here while I pull up a quick call to get those stem cells delivered. We'll move you to the op room as soon as this thing is put together. Better sooner than later."

He welds a few more pieces together and chuckles. "I never would have thought my crazy "put machinery in my body" skills would end up being so useful," he muses. "Sorry I couldn't be there for the big fight. Would've been a kickass mission to go on."
When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got.
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Gleam
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Jagd hits a call button a half-dozen times and whistles Two Shaves and a Haircut into the intercom afterwards, then turns back to Epsilon. "Not an option." he said with a shrug. "Team trained in fireteam tactics. New integration requires time, practice, oiling kinks. Too soon for hostile insertion as previous mission. Would throw life away."

The commander flicks a hand, his brow wrinkling. "Here, you save more lives than would on mission."
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.

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LornMind
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Epsilon nods and smiles. "Alright, but I'm sure as hell coming along with you guys if something else goes down. No way in hell am I missing a chance to kick some actual ass," he says genially, "I can't offer the best and most accurate firepower, but I sure as hell can tear people a new one." He smirks, "Plus, thanks to the amazing powers of superheated air and viciously overexcited molecules, bullets will melt if they try to get through an entropy screen." He tinkers more with the arm and says satisfactorily, "Alright, this arm has had all I can do for it done. With any luck, you won't be quite so seithr-null once it's installed."

A disgruntled nurse enters, mumbling inaudibly some sort of complaint. Epsilon ignores her distaste and says, "We gotta get Jagd to t operating room. Time to reconstruct this guy and make him even more dangerous to fuck with. I hope someone's out getting the stem cells I need, because they're the first and most important part of the operation."
When it comes to writing, I'm a zip gun in a prison; one-shot, one-trick, and I'm all you've got.
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Gleam
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"Bullet screen alone invaluable." Jagd points out. "Next NOL engagement undoubtedly include more firearms, due to failure of other means. Likely air support." He gains a fierce smile. "Would like observation of enemy Shebalve flown through entropy screen. Suspect catastrophic failure as result. Most satisfying."

The nurse offers a strained smile and waves a cart in behind herself, loaded with the stem serum in question. "Miss Siobhana had us send it up immediately." she says, voice forcibly light. "She has also asked me to communicate that she has the best hopes Jagd will recover entirely from this operation."
Class. Dig it up, dust it off, hang that shit crooked on an ear. My halo's a land mine rind, amigo.

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