hellsbel: (8)
Captain Bel Thorne ([personal profile] hellsbel) wrote2015-11-16 02:49 am

Captain's Cabin

A neat, soldierly space, with personal items stowed out of sight in latched cupboards. Station chairs are clamped to the floor by a small table and comconsole; a vast assortment of weapons hangs on one wall and a washroom door is outlined on the other. The reading lamp is a relic, made out of a slagged helmet. A neatly made bed is visible in the back.

PSLs


Out-of-game threading goes here! (And does not necessarily have to be set in Bel's cabin, though that's a great place to get a cup of tea.<3)
notglitching: (? - creeper)

Universe-hoppy murdernanigans, get~

[personal profile] notglitching 2017-01-30 10:29 am (UTC)(link)
In the two cycles and change he's spent off-Grid, Rinzler's learned a number of important lessons. About users. About bodies. About space and systems, monsters and robots and nothing is stable, things can always get worse. About how to fix starships. About what a gun does.

...That last one, he's blaming for the current set of corpses.

User. Human. Three, all wearing the same unfamiliar attire—and the same weapons, though only one still has it in hand. Rinzler eyes the body as it floats past, blobs of fluid still leaking sluggishly from the disk wound carving its front open. The unlit weapon in his grip has more or less burned off its share of blood, but the fluid is still everywhere: adhering to his hands, to the corpses, to the walls and doors and tied-down crates that shape the contours of the room. There's a mess of splatter still hovering near the vents at the room's corners—too small to make an exit, but easily enough to suck out all the chamber's air.

Stupid of them, if not especially surprising. Their first mistake had been leveling their guns his way. The second one was firing. By the time the users at the rear had scrambled out and sealed the room closed, values like air or gravity (or the current lack thereof) were barely a concern. Not to the empty bodies bouncing through the room, and certainly not to him.

Still, the larger error was still cycling through queue, fault waiting for assignment. Who'd brought him here? And how? Rinzler's last log was waiting at the center of the Midway Hub, lingering outside the (pointless) user celebrations. He hadn't powered down, but he'd awoken here: in a strange room with strange, stupid users, and an airlock at each end. Another system glitch? If so, where were the others? He didn't feel tampered with, but that didn't mean nothing had happened.

Only one way to find out. Noise stays damped, circuits darkened as the enforcer coils in the shadows of the ceiling above the door. The threats had exited that way, and sooner or later, someone would come back. They'd answer his questions.

Or he'd get out, and find someone who could.
notglitching: (red - flip)

What other kind of nanigans would you want, really~?

[personal profile] notglitching 2017-03-05 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
Rinzler's participation in the Moira's spacewalk training had been more notable for the injuries and jail time it ended with than for the actual content. Still, spacesuits are a familiar piece of gear. The one that emerges from the hatch below flags user, standard frame. And more importantly, standard survival requirements. If he breaks the seal of the suit, derezz is all but guaranteed.

So, not before he gets his answers.

Rinzler waits, still and silent, as the shape below leans forward, limbs curled on the supports to keep control. Better to wait until it kicks off, catch it mid-jump with no way to alter path. But this user has enough processing power to look before it leaps, and if it checks above, there's a chance he might be spotted.

Better not to risk it.

Feet brace against the ceiling. Grip shifts around the grate he'd chosen for a makeshift handhold, minute adjustments to guarantee the straightest path. And Rinzler kicks off, a soft, swift motion toward the extended plane of the user's back.
notglitching: (red - turn and look)

Wow, Bel. Learn to nanigans!

[personal profile] notglitching 2017-03-05 05:16 am (UTC)(link)
Sound doesn't carry in a vacuum. There's very little vacuum left between them, though, and Bel will feel a jarring surge of vibration pressing through their suit from behind. Something mechanical and broken, something liquid and angry and wrong.

They'll also feel a curved edge digging in across their front—and rising to intercept the lifting hand. Activating his disk risks killing a potential source of data, but Rinzler recognized the shape of that weapon on his way down. If he can knock it aside without the blade, he will, and if not... better the user than him.

Not that he doesn't have other concerns. The sideways twist aims Rinzler's dock straight for the ground; he curls in, turning to take the blow on a shoulder instead. Rebound is immediate, only a fraction of an instant's contact with the ground... but speed has never been the enforcer's weak point. He slams down a foot at a sharp angle, sending them off at a corkscrewing, rapid spin across the room.
notglitching: (red - caught in reflections)

[personal profile] notglitching 2017-04-07 02:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Weapon arm collides with weapon arm, each keeping the other from full effect. It's a fair trade as far as Rinzler's concerned, especially as he'd still prefer not to activate that blade. Bel's elbow, however, will simply be ignored; Rinzler's grip digging in tighter to lock down his prey despite the squirming. He's not a user—not as weak as one—and if Rinzler's taste runs more to precision strikes and displays of agility than this close-contact mess, that's all the more reason to get it over with quickly.

Rapid-fire calculations track their vector as the room twists past in periphery, a cycling blur of walls-ceiling-floor. This time, the user can be their point of impact, and his limbs tuck, shifting a little to be sure. There's a buzzing vibration at the point of contact in their shells, an odd noise that doesn't quite match the feedback from his own. Shouting? Stupid, pointless... unless it has a comm line open. Scans sharpen, checking to be sure...

The faint stiffness that coils through their captor's frame, Bel will definitely be able to feel. No comm line, no call, but a match, signature identified and known. Bel_Thorne. User security (former security) from the system they both shared until it crashed. Part of the group he's tagged along with since, in their (pointless) (hateful) search for the Portal.

Ally? No, not in the least. But Rinzler knows them.

And they, unlike the other errors who'd walked in, know Rinzler.

He clings on through the ricochet. It's only after that Bel will see a curve of light flare to life, white edge surrounding the red-orange ring as Rinzler activates his disk. They know the weapon, they know what it can do, but there's no move to slice or throw, no attempt to bypass their weak block. Instead, Rinzler twitches his blade carefully: toward the stunner, then away.

Drop it.
notglitching: (red - turn and look)

[personal profile] notglitching 2017-04-10 12:16 pm (UTC)(link)
The deliberation is noted. The response, acceptable. Rinzler waits a beat before the arm around the user loosens, legs drawing up to launch off their lower back with a silent burst of pressure that spells stay. Limbs uncoil as he spins, performing one full revolution before the program drifts back into the wall, foot hooking a protruding net of unused rigging. The black helmet stays fixed on the user, disk ready and in hand. Still, if Bel doesn't move for the stunner, the humming, ready edge will darken.

Easy enough to light the weapon at need. Easy to split it, easy to throw, to add another user shell to this room's complement. Maybe he should. Bel_Thorne isn't an ally, and they've proved themself a valid threat before. Bel_Thorne had made it clear they thought much worse of him, the last time he killed users. Thrashing and aimless, something to be caged and sent away. Given to other users for keeping and correction. Wasn't that what they had recommended?


Is that why he's here?


...Unlikely. If editing is (as always) an unknown, it seems improbable that any captors would manage to wipe all memory of how he got here without stopping him from fighting back. And if this user did have a part in it, he doubts they would be stupid enough to step so carelessly in reach.

No, calculations favor some kind of group transport. It wouldn't be the first time. Which means that ally or not, he and the user still share a likely goal. Assessment reached, Rinzler reaches down with his free hand, snagging an inventory tally off the wall. The pad gets tossed unceremoniously in Bel's direction as Rinzler reaches for his own communicator. The network functions have been down since he woke up, but it still works fine for base projections.

Location?
whiteknightnecromancer: Talking (Default)

[personal profile] whiteknightnecromancer 2017-02-12 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Dorian woke in a place that was completely unfamiliar to him. Physically, the place was both noisier and quieter than he would have expected. There was a background sound like a hum but he couldn't hear people coming and going as he should have been able to in an inn and he was entirely too comfortable to be outdoors.

After checking and not seeing his staff, Dorian went to go find people.

(OOC: Sorry this took so long. If you need anything changed, please let me know and I'll be happy to do it.)