1222/UNSC Convoy Raid

UNSC Convoy Raid
Date of Scene:	08 January 2015
Location:	Void - Space Ways
Synopsis:	Serori assaults a UNSC convoy bearing precious cargo. She runs into John-117, and something unexpected takes place. (Timebubbled to January 8th.)
Cast of Characters:	37, 474

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John-117 (474) has posed:
     Ever since the Covenant Civil War, the UNSC has been expanding throughout their galaxy at an unprecedented speed. With their old enemies - the Covenant - ceasing to exist in any organised form, relegated to fractured groups of warriors and warships, the UNSC has no one to oppose them. At least, no one from their own galaxy.

     The UNSC Gate of Storms is a Marathon-class heavy cruiser, on a mission that has it heading out towards the ever-expanding frontier of human space. It's an old warship - most of its class were lost during the Battle for Earth - but still a tough target to tangle with. It's the perfect choice for its mission and cargo - old enough to not be immediately targeted but strong enough to take care of itself if it is.

     And it's a good thing, too, because the Gate of Storms is carrying several data crystal chips below decks - AIs intended for new colonies, to handle administrative tasks, orbital security and the dozens of other tasks that one might need an artificial mind for.

     It's also why the Master Chief is aboard the vessel. While the Covenant now know the location of Earth, it's still not ideal if any AI falls into the wrong hands. Because the Chief knows there's more threats out there than the Covenant.

Serori (37) has posed:
The sleek hull of a single-person craft cuts through the rocky tail of a crumbling asteroid to skim into unseen position alongside the Gate of Storms. Built for stealthy by Confederate engineers, the small vessel is capable of eluding most traditional methods of detection, and some non-traditional methods, too, making it the ideal transport for a would-be thief seeking the latest and greatest UNSC technology.

Of course, an insertion this deep in space isn't going to stay sneaky for long, but at least the craft's sole occupant is able to approach unmolested. Once Serori latches onto the Gate's exterior hull and forces her way inside, stealth's out the window. She's ready for what's coming, though. Tightening up her dark gloves, adjusting the fit of her breather mask, she puts on the final touches before initiating the first phase of her assault: the breach.

Serori's ship connects itself to the Gate's belly about as close as one can get to the secure cargo holds. A heavy thump or two might be heard by someone inside, if they're standing somewhere near the 'landing' site, but that reverberation has nothing on the chaos to follow. The instant Serori's ship confirms it's established a secure hold, she pops open the canopy, stands up on her ship's nose, draws back her fist -- and starts to punch her way inside.

What had been a pretty innocuous couple of thumps becomes an alarming series of BANG BANG BANGS, followed by the shriek of bending steel and the wailing alarm of a hull breach.

No doubt, this ship's got all sorts of interior bulkheads and other emergency functions meant to handle and limit the effects of a hull breach, but Serori knows she's got time to get by these before she's trapped. Flying through the hole she's made for herself, she immediately zips down the first open hall she encounters, taking no time to help anyone in her path who may be at risk of dying.

John-117 (474) has posed:
     Up on the bridge, the Gate of Storms' AI - a germanic warrior by the name of Alric - looks towards the Captain and SPARTAN. "We're under attack," the AI reports, bringing up a schematic view of that part of the cruiser. "But it's not the Covenant. We've got explosive decompression through some of the outer decks. One indi-"

     Cortana's voice, routed through the speakers in the Master Chief's helmet, interrupts: "She's here for the AIs. Lock down everything between her current location and the primary cargo bay, and leave her to us."

     "As you wish," the Captain remarks with a curt nod. Being a war hero gets some benefits, it seems.

     As the Chief makes his way towards Serori's location, aiming to intercept her just before the entrance to the cargo bay, an announcement goes over the ship intercom: "Attention all hands, we have been boarded by an unknown assailant. All hands to battle stations, I repeat, all hands to battle stations."

     But it doesn't matter what the UNSC marines arm themselves with. None of them can stop a Saiyan. Bulkhead doors slam down in Serori's path, but it's highly unlikely they'd stop her either. But they might just buy time.

Serori (37) has posed:
Hey, Serori's not the kind of saiyan who packs a lot in the way of raw strength! Whereas Vegeta or Raditz would treat those doors like tissue paper, she /does/ have to hit them a couple of times to punch through. At least the crew's non-instantaneous reaction time gives her a chance to escape the vacuum caused by her hull breach; operating within normal Earth gravity makes things easier.

So far, so good. The Marines are easy to slip by, and those she can't just rush past are easy to take out. Keeping her attacks controlled, she fires high-impact energy 'bullets' from her hands that hit with the stunning force of rubberized rounds but aren't too lethal, given her precision. Sure, a few squads in her path might meet a less lucky end, but for the most part, she's careful, and mindful of the fact she's fighting soldiers who have no choice except to lay down their lives on the off chance she might change her mind about attacking. Really, aside from however many people were caught in the effects of the hull breach, her kill count stays pretty low. This slows her down, too -- giving Chief plenty of time to get into position.

Serori rounds the last bend, and lunges toward the waiting cargo bay doors. Of course, she stops short of reaching them. Skidding to a half-crouched stop, she glares at the Chief, and sighs out in vexation. "You've gotta be kidding me. What are the odds?"

John-117 (474) has posed:
     The giant SPARTAN fills the hallway infront of Serori, an assault rifle ever-so-casually cradled in his gauntlets. He almost certainly has more weapons on his back. "Small," the Chief says from behind his golden visor, "Leave, Colonel. I won't ask again."

Serori (37) has posed:
"And after all the trouble I've caused already?" Serori smirks. "Don't you know me better than that by now?"

Impossible speed transforms her body into a half-seen motion blur zipping to the Chief's left. Serori takes herself at once from the direct line of fire, and puts her high agility to work in an attempt to squirm right past him. Further aiding her evasion is a yellow ki blast she tosses right at his feet to upset his balance.

Like the Marines, she's not trying to kill -- just to get past her detractors so she can get what she wants and goes home.

Serori lunges for the cargo door, and tries to dent its surface. It's going to take her a few good hits to actually get inside. "You don't have to stand in my way!" she calls to the Chief, taunting.

John-117 (474) has posed:
     The Chief raises his rifle, aiming to swing the stock of it against Serori as she zips to his left side. The blast at his feet causes him to stumble, sending the blow wide, and Serori manages to get right past him. Hmm, maybe the SPARTAN isn't fighting at his peak, either.

     Of course, as Serori goes for the door, fists planting large dents in the thick metal plate, buckling it around the edges, the Chief goes to snare her by the arm and /hurl/ her back down the corridor, probably right into where it terminates into a T-intersection. Dropping the rifle, the Chief raises his fists and with a sharp motion, settles low to the ground, arms spread, ready to spring.

Serori (37) has posed:
Whooooooooosh-THUNK.

Serori pulls herself from the deep indentation made by her body at impact with the far wall, and gives her head a light, clearing shake. She's still smirking. As she removes herself from the dent, she even chuckles. Must be feeling confident, huh?

Again, the saiyan woman hits speeds too fast for the human eye to track. No doubt Chief's senses are far above human limits, and no doubt Cortana can track Serori's sudden advance, but to any Marine who still answers the call of duty to watch two Multiversal combatants duel? She's just /gone/. Disappearing from one spot, and reappearing in the next -- near the ceiling over the Chief's head.

Serori pounces down like a hungry panther from the shadows. Grabbing at John's helmet and neckplates, she tries to yank him toward the floor in an awkward bend, then into a Judo-esque shoulder-toss that'll leave him on his back. If she's able to down him, she'll follow up by kicking at the side of his head, but the more likely result of this is that she's going to have to immediately go looking for her own freedom.

Well, whatever. If she's going to beat /him/, and not blow up the ship around her, she's going to have to get in close.

"Letting an AI fall into Confederate hands might not be such a bad idea...think of what we might do with the technology."

John-117 (474) has posed:
     The SPARTAN looks up at just the right time to see Serori descend upon him, wrap around his head and neck, and force him to the ground. He rolls with it, using the momentum to try and drag Serori down with him where his superior size might give him an advantage.

     Not fast enough. Serori kicks him in the side of the head and, while the helmet absorbs much of the impact, the HUD flickers and his ears ring. He reaches for Serori, wrapping around her leg and with a grunt, yanks her down to the deck plating. He follows that up with a heavy blow from his elbow, aimed squarely at her solar plexus. The plating probably crumples under the impact, but Serori can take it. He rolls to one side, leaping to his feet.

     "And that's precisely why we can't let them fall into your hands," Cortana remarks.

Serori (37) has posed:
More than just the plating; Serori's armor cracks with a loud snap, and after her body unfolds from the blow driving her /down/, her spine arches /up/ in an expression of pain echoed by the blood coughed through her lips. The awkward flex is turned into a groaning tumble in the opposite direction taken by Chief, enabling Serori to spring up onto her toes outside his lengthy reach.

It takes a moment to find her breath again. Soon as she's got it, she wastes it on baiting, responding right to Cortana this time. "You don't think our unorthodox researchers might come up with some interesting use for your fellow AI? It'd be nice to learn more from how they're made and why, of course, but that's just the beginning. Think of the possibilities; you've got something of an imagination, don't you?"

Probably more than John does, anyway.

Speaking of innovations -- the deck plating near her feet is crumpled, yes. Some of it's peeling up from its bolts. Serori nudges her toe into the tiny gap, and -- with an energetic "HRAH!" -- kicks it up into John's face with the force of a speeding Camaro. The entire section of plating is stripped from the floor, meaning that he's got a good-sized chunk of heavy steel coming his way.

Using the maneuver as cover, Serori once more goes for the cargo door, throwing her entire body behind a swift, reckless kick.

John-117 (474) has posed:
     "I think any possible gains will be outweighed by the harm you cause with them," Cortana remarks through the Chief's helmet. Of course, some part of her does wonder if the Confederacy can fix Rampancy, if such a thing is possible. The UNSC can't, but the Multiverse... it might just have a way.

     There's a mighty 'clang' and a shower of golden sparks as Serori kicks the deck plating into the Master Chief's face, leaving a long scratch along the front of his visor and knocking him down. The plating lands on top of him, and the Chief pushes up with all of his strength. It shifts and, inch by inch, he finds some leverage to pull it off him.

     But not before Serori kicks her way into the cargo bay, sending the heavy doors to the ground, broken and shattered.

     Inside, the large bay is abandoned. There's numerous crates, boxes and storage units scattered around. Most are probably filled with all the provisions and supplies that a fighting force like the UNSC requires. There's a few vehicles - Warthog jeeps and Scorpion tanks - locked down on the far end of the bay floor. Perhaps with her scouter, Serori might be able to track down whichever storage unit is using the most power.

     Of course, it's about that time that the Chief charges in behind her, grabbing the Saiyan by the wrist and drawing her in so he can piston his armored fist right into her jaw!

     And, somewhere, Cortana ponders, processing...

Serori (37) has posed:
Serori wastes no time poking at her scouter's controls. Before the door's even clanged to its final clanging stop, she's beginning a scan for active power draws, looking for anything unusual or significant aside from the SPARTAN himself. The task requires some focus -- her eyes dart back and forth between the hold and the readings in a frantic, rapidfire manner -- and though her instincts are prickling some warning once she hears the Chief get back to his feet, she can't devote much of her senses to registering his whereabouts.

What she /does/ is continue into the hold, putting some distance between her and the Chief -- buying some time. Enough time to confirm the whereabouts of the AI crystals?

The world /explodes/. Stars go shooting throughout Serori's vision as if she's just taken a trip outside the hangar bay. Dropping under the force, she momentarily dangles from Chief's grasp in limp confusion and /hurt/, but it's just a flicker in the attic -- the lights don't go /out/. Though reeling, Serori quickly powers through the worst of the blow's effects to make the Chief /regret/ his decision to fulfill his duty.

Serori swings herself up, pivoting her body around the grip he maintains on her arm, and drives both her heels into the underside of his jaw. She uses even the most glancing contact to thrust herself toward the floor with a great deal of force and momentum in an attempt to both escape his grasp, /and/ to catch herself on her outstretched hands. Once she does, she twists her body into a cartwheeling series of three kicks aimed at 117's chest, then crumples into a forward roll to give herself renewed distance.

Huffing, her split lip pouring blood down her chin, she shoots back at the pair, proving Cortana psychic: "We can find a cure. It had to have crossed your mind."

John-117 (474) has posed:
     The first of Serori's blows connect with the chin of the MJOLNIR helmet, wrenching the Chief's head back. A lesser man might've been killed by the blow, but the SPARTAN just staggers. The golden shields flare brightly and fail, just in time for Serori to hammer him again and again and again with those kicks, denting the green battleplate at his chest and driving the SPARTAN back. Regret? That's an emotion? Isn't that a Prophet that the Chief beat to death?

     The Chief advances once more, each step measured and precise. Sparks fly from something on his chest, broken by Serori's kicks. She's rolled clear, but the Chief closes the gap in just a few strides. He leaps for Serori, planting one armored boot on her armored chest, and he /kicks/ off with the other as he seems to /run up/ her body. He lands a few meters away, on his feet, and makes ready to charge again.

     The scouter points to a storage locker to Serori's right, set into the wall with a sophisticated lock and handle mechanism, barely larger than a case of ammunition.

     A cure. The word runs circles in Cortana's mind, again and again. A cure, a cure, acure, acurecurecurecurecurecure-

Serori (37) has posed:
Surprise! The Chief /can/ fly. Sort of.

Serori yelps in angry shock, only for the sound to be cut short by the immediate arrival of his boot to her chest. Her armor fragments into an almost perfect SPARTAN boot-print; might she get a bruise to match? Crumpling below /that/ kick, she almost doesn't /feel/ the second, the consequences of it landing more obvious than the adrenaline-buffered pain -- yeah. /She/ goes flying, too, but not in any graceful, directed manner. Instead, she goes shooting off into the storage racks, bringing down several heavy crates and boxes down on herself. It'd be a crushing pile to the human body.

Serori's /almost/ pinned, but a ROAR of effort gets her dislocated arm freed. Shafts of yellow light give the Chief some warning before the pile bursts apart in a concussive explosion. The same blast sends her vaulting straight up toward the ceiling, too. She manages to twist around so her feet hit the ceiling before she clonks her head; she crouches there for half a second before springing away again toward the locker.

Ignore the Chief; focus on the prize.

"A cure -- " she gasps out. "A way for the two of you to stay together a little while longer!"

John-117 (474) has posed:
     The Chief is half way to Serori again when the pile of storage crates detonates outwards with incredible explosive force. He slips past the first of them, only to get nailed by the second. His shields flare brightly once more and then fail again as the third clips his legs. He tumbles, landing on his shoulder - hard. The armor protects from a lot of things, but not from being wrenched under his own body like that. The tendons pull, but don't break.

     Serori might be surprised by how long it takes the Master Chief - SPARTAN-117, John - to move again. He rolls himself onto his chest, and then places his hands on either side of him, and goes to rise.

     He stops, about half way up, like something has frozen him solid. There's no sound from his helmet, either, because Cortana has disabled that too.

     The words 'I'm sorry, John' play over and over his HUD, flickering where the various displays and indicators should be, overriding everything, and her voice whispers incessantly in his ears.

     When someone knows they're on borrowed time, in the midst of drowning in the breakdown of their own mind, they'll cling to anything that might look like a liferaft.

     Even if they're an enemy.

Serori (37) has posed:
Don't look a gift SPARTAN in the mouth.

Serori wrenches open the secure locker, grabs whatever crystals she can get her hands on, and -- with only a brief, puzzled look for the Master Chief -- high tails it from the cargo hold.

If he wants to stop her now, he's going to have to get desperate. She's got a good lead, and the moment she's back in her ship, she'll be gone.

Her mind races like her feet. Why was he frozen? Why did he go quiet? Had his heart even been in the fight? Did her words really strike that personal a nerve? The circumstances are unusual, and Serori's left with the prickling paranoia of someone who's just walked into a foreign country for the first time.

If no one stops her, Serori returns to her craft, and slips off radar as quickly and as silently as she'd broken onto it.

John-117 (474) has posed:
     The AI crystal chips are small things, able to comfortably fit in the palm of Serori's hand. As she goes, there's no sign of any movement from the SPARTAN - not even the movement of his head to track her gaze.

     What happened there?

     Later, when Cortana is sure that Serori is gone, and the Gate of Storms is confirmed secure by the UNSC marines, she gives John his suit back. Later, in the debriefing, he'll claim it was a malfunction from the damage Serori caused. It's an old suit, after all, and it's seen action on dozens of battlefields. Cortana will, of course, back him up, providing a wealth of technical information to deflect any possibility that it could be Rampancy.

     She'll always take care of him, even if it means making a few deals with a few devils. Because she knows that, at the end of the day, he would do the same.