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originally posted in:The New Dojo
1/26/2018 4:18:12 PM
1
At first, there was no answer, but then Caroline peaked out from behind cover. When she saw Drake, she holstered her gun and ran out to meet him.
"Oh my god. Drake?" She said, a smile on her face.
English
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“Well, you said that I should stop leaving you behind... so here I am.” Drake said nonchalantly, holstering his own weapon as a grin spread across his own face. He was, more than anything else, relieved that she’d survived, and that she was seemingly okay.
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Nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises on her, with most of the impact being absorbed by an exosuit. Those things had saved her life more times than she knew. "I'm glad you came back, even though I... already had it taken care of. Apparently Frontier doesn't know how to administer sedatives." She said in jest, looking at Drake with a glint in her eye. Without pause, she moved closer and... hugged him. Because he had been there. He had been her friend... sort of.
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"It's the thought that counts, right?" Drake replied jokingly, returning the hug with his prosthetic arm. It had been a while since he'd been hugged like that, and quite frankly, he'd forgotten how good it felt to be a good guy again. He withdrew from the hug after a few seconds, but kept her at arm's length as he looked over her. "Well," he said as he brushed some snow off of her exosuit, "you don't look too much worse for wear. I take it Frontier doesn't know how to administer bullets well either?"
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"Apparently." Caroline said, smiling. "I guess they forgot that I'm a trained assassin." Something seemed... off. The thought would have occurred to him that the soldiers who picked her up were spec-ops. ARES. They were trained for this. They would make sure that she wouldn't escape. Yet, she was alive. Here. "Drake... Listen. I've been thinking about something. Something I need to tell you."
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"Yeah? What's up?" Drake looked at her expectantly, waiting to hear what she had to say. Other than his lingering sense of dread from earlier, he hadn't quite picked up on anything wrong yet.
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"I'm..." She said, emotion conveying from within her. Yet the next thing she said would be almost emotionless in comparison. "I'm sorry about this." She opened up her hand, and jabbed some sort of syringe into his neck. Within moments, his vision would began to blur, and he would stumble. Caroline pushed down on the side of her neck, and her appearance changed completely. A hologram perhaps? The stranger had brown hair, brown eyes, and an overall generic face. Alpha had had a brief encounter with people like this earlier. Spies. Assassins. "Poor thing." The woman said, dropping Caroline's voice in favor of a bland one, as if by design. "I feel sorry for you, really. Frontier wants you, and that's not a good thing." Drake only had a few seconds before he would be knocked out completely. [spoiler]Second time I've done someone like that.[/spoiler]
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"I guess... They do... Sedativvee... goood" Drake fumbled for his blaster, but his fingers were already numbing. His prosthetic eye twitched, and unbeknownst to the assassin, snapped a picture of her for his neural implant, before passing out completely.
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Edited by Kruos the Wicked: 1/26/2018 10:03:07 PM[url=http://example.com]Unknown Location, Sometime later...[/url] Drake would wake up in a [url=https://imgur.com/jJKVgTF]strange bedroom[/url], not bound or anything like that. It was... almost comfortable. Very strange indeed, considering who was holding him. What did Frontier want?
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"I... Uh, lemme guess: Sawyer let me have a little too much to dri-..." Drake attempted to sit up, but his head was still swimming. It took him a moment to finally realize where exactly he was. Comfortable, clean... Definitely wasn't the Arrowhead. Suddenly, everything came back to him. "Oh," was all he could muster at that point. Drake slipped out of the bed, and decided to look around the room, merely for curiosity's sake.
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The only notable thing was a computer on the desk next to him. It had the Frontier insignia plastered onto it, but nothing else. However, what would be most notable is that an intercom came online... "Hello, Mr. Drake." A female voice said.
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Drake was taken by surprise, but didn’t quite lose composure. He went over to the computer, and replied with a casual, “That would be me.”
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"Thank you for identifying yourself, that was very... helpful." The woman said sarcastically, yet completely in jest. "If you would, can you please step into the analysis chamber?" A section of the wall opened up, revealing a short, dark hallway that led to a completely white room.
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Drake was silent, but complied nevertheless. There was no point in resisting... yet. It'd be far better to see what he was going up against on good terms.
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When he entered, he would be expected to stand in a ring that was in the very center of the room. If he did so, the door would shut, restraints would activate, and the lights in the room would go out. "Thank you Mr. Drake. Please wait while we configure the analyzation chamber." Metal pieces on the floor would rise up and assemble, creating a dark isolation pod with scanners that shone lights on him. Red, Green, Blue. A projection screen was showed before him, complete with a progressing scan of Micheal Drake himself. His vitals, age, and most of his file would show up on the screen, moving about. Yet there were other things like "Precursor DNA Match" and the like that didn't make much sense. It was all moving so fast that it didn't really matter.
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Edited by GingerlyWalnut3: 1/27/2018 8:35:13 PMDrake looked at the screens, attempting to glean as much as he could from the rapidly changing displays. Years of being a Captain had given him practice in split-second reactions, and his prosthetic eye made him surprisingly capable at filtering out important information.
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A mixture of data, numbers and words scrolling and flashing. His history, his health, his... file. And something else. Something that looked like it might be... brain scans. Patterns. A complete analysis, partially done while has was asleep and finished here. Then it said something else. [i]0.0% Corruption[/i] The screen flashed green, as if he was cleared, and the pod immediately disengaged. The lights in the room turned on once more, the restraints released, and the door opened. "Analysis complete. Please proceed back to your room." Once he made his way back, he would encounter someone. A woman, in her late thirties, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, stood by the window. "Hello Mr. Drake." She said in a smooth, partially British voice.
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"What do you want?" He growled quietly, though not with any particular hostility. He wouldn't be aggressive, but he wouldn't exactly be polite in his compliance either, Drake had decided.
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"Hmm. That's... difficult to necessarily answer." The woman said, eying him. "Answer me this first; what do you think of us? Are we the enemy to you?"
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"Well, you took a bounty on my head... tried to kill me... tortured me..." Drake sarcastically starting putting up fingers, counting their transgressions with each finger. After he finally stopped listing offenses, he nodded, "Yeah, I'd say that you're the enemy here."
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She chuckled, glancing out into space. "Has this question ever been posed to you before? 'Would you sacrifice one person to save the lives of many?'" She said, glancing at the planet that floated in the distance. "You were a threat, Drake. At least, we thought you were. A third party. That is, at least something made us believe that."
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"Now why would you ever think that?" Drake said innocently, and slightly mockingly. Truth be told, he'd never believed in the greater good, unless it pertained to himself.
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She sighed, turning back towards him. "This situation is of a greater magnitude than you can possibly imagine." She said, her voice a little... fearful for a moment. "Sure, our methods are questionable, but we have a cause. Come with me. I need to show you something." The door opened, and she had begun to walk out, gesturing for him to follow.
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Drake followed, genuinely curious about her motivations. Everyone had some sort of explanation to cover up their crimes: hell, he was a smuggler because he was good at pretending to be right. But even the darkest, most chaotic evil had their stories... and Michael Drake didn't sympathize the devil.
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"Have you ever entertained the concept that something was responsible for the creation of our worlds?" She asked, as they walked down the hallway. "Or, at least, that their was some sort of race that inhabited some such as Tatakai before us?" The woman stopped her chain of questions when she came across a lieutenant standing at an intersection. "Ma'am," the man said, "The Outer District of Starlight City is being bombarded, with the Resistance base being primarily targeted." "Dammit. Would you tell those idiots down there to at least send in an extraction crew?! We have valuable cargo down there. If anything happens..." "Yes ma'am." The lieutenant departed, and the woman continued to the elevator.
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Drake glanced over in the direction of the lieutenant, making silent note of the message the man had relayed. After the man had left, he merely shrugged. “I’ve had to smuggle terraforming equipment before. I’ve seen corporations build worlds before... what they do with them is above my pay grade. In case [i]your files[/i] didn’t tell you, I’m not much of one to question how things come about unless I can profit off of it.” He mentioned her files with a certain amount of scorn, as if he were, again, subtly mocking her. In fact, Drake seemed to be intentionally misunderstanding her—but he knew that she wasn’t exactly talking about corporations here.
