Scene Listing || Scene Schedule || Scene Schedule RSS
Owner Pose
Danse The Cambridge Police Station is much more...sedate, than the previous encounter. The fallen, both feral and soldier, have had their remains dealt with, and Rhys is up and around under his own power, thanks to Scribe Haylen's expert care, though still with a visible limp, and a grimace when he moves his torso in certain ways. A grimace that he tries his best to hide, to not show any trace of weakness. The important thing is he's healthy enough to be able to keep watch outdoors, in case more ferals wander in from elsewhere in the splintered remains of the town. Paladin Danse and Scribe Haylen are inside the police station, itself, the latter seated at the one RobCo standard terminal they were able to cobble together out of the trashed examples visible on desks elsewhere in the station. She seems to be browsing records of their research, as well as keying in new ones.

    Danse, himself, hasn't removed his power armor, even indoors. The heavy, hydraulically-assisted footsteps pace back and forth, as he systematically goes over every last detail of the coming mission that he can think of. Only one thing manages to distract him from it: The old tube radio that Haylen had restored to working order, seated on what had been the front desk, breaks in on the usual period music to give a news update. An inconfident-sounding young man reports sightings of 'soldiers' at the Cambridge Police Station, as well as the 'mysterious strangers' that came to their assistance. This alone would not be noteworthy, aside from the fact that there must have been others that paid witness, and passed along the news. Instead, after the main body of the report is over, the inconfident tone, turns into one of panicked hysteria.

    "So, the Brotherhood of Steel, are here. And, they'll be coming to Diamond City next, I guess," the voice continues -- before screeching, "AWWW, we're gonna DIE! Auuuwww..." The music resumes, as Danse gives the radio's backlit dial a long and silent glance, before he responds to no one in particular, "Seems we have a ways to go before we can start winning any hearts and minds, as Elder Lyons would have put it." Scribe Haylen glances over her shoulder, and sounds a bit more optimistic, "We just have to get through to them that we're on their side! Just, you know, wastelanders are really independent. They're not used to accepting help from anyone."

    For now, things go on like this, as Danse gives the responding Elites time to arrive, or otherwise prepare their supplies for the trip.
Kyle Katarn     Kyle doesn't take long to join up with the Brotherhood Paladin and Scribe. "So much for Hearts and Minds, huh?" He asks, wandering into the station just in time to hear that broadcast.. He barely bats an eyelash at the sight of Danse still in power armor while indoors, though one wonders how they fit him /in there/ given his ridiculous size.

    He might also have a bit of ghoul gunk on his boots. Getting here was a pain in the ass, to say the least, but at least he has backup in two forms. Jan follows Kyle, giving a nod to both Haylen and Danse. "Hey, Jan Ors, I'm Kyle's partner. He mentioned you guys could use some tech support on this one." She's a medium-height woman of surprisingly asian heritage, with a tan pilot's uniform and a prosthetic hand. She's also got a considerable amount of tools and a blaster pistol on her belt. No, she's not some kind of Chinese spy, honest. There isn't even a China where she and Kyle are from!
William Pauwel Will shows up not long before or after everyone else! He pops up right around in the middle, in fact. His duster flutters in the humid breeze blowing in from the not-so-distant Atlantic. The MYSTERIOUS PLASMA PISTOL is still at his hip, just as it was the last time he was here, but... It looks like he added what appears to be a SECOND WORLD WAR ERA GAS MASK to his repertoire. Seems that the concerns about horrible death particles got to him.

BUT HE'S STILL HERE, and he's still going to help. No worry about that!

    "Hey, Paladin Danse!" Will calls from beneath his mask. It sounds a little... muffled, but still his meaning still comes across loud and clear. "We goin' to go grab that part y'all need for your radio transmitter today? I'm about as ready as I'll ever be, so whenever y'all are ready to go..."
Rory White Rory has been busy! Using little more than some scavenged building materials in the local area and her engineering nanoswarm she's outfitted the police station's battlements with a pair of solar-powered laser turrets. These won't stand up to any concentrated assault, but are currently programmed to attack any clearly feral Ghouls or obviously violent fauna that get too near the station or start charging it. But there's no targeting for anything that can THINK, that requires manual direction over the Mesh for now.

    Just her contribution to the temporary base of operations, because...

    "Alright, that should do it. Without Mesh direction they won't attack anything humanoid unless it shoots them first though. Obviously Feral ghouls being the only exception." Of course she's left a remote control for Haylen with a copy of her Muse, ready and willing to take instructions for fine-tuning the turret AI and how it determines friend from foe. Or just telling it what to do and letting the AI figure it out.

    Chances are she has no idea how the Brotherhood tends to operate.

    "Paladin Danse, I'm ready to go." Rory's, as before, obviously robotic. Her silvery-white-blue Flexbot's taken on a strange form though. Her legs have split apart at some point and reshaped into quadrupedal mode for greater balance, and she currently has SIX arms, all of which are fairly thin but end in human-like hands and other gripping tools. two of them are clearly configured as energy weapons...
Kotone Yamakawa So here they were once more to the wasteland but a much different one to be sure. Kotone had come back eariler in the day to help with various mechanical isuses but it was perplexing to her at time. After all lines of tech that had long been left. She'd been busy but she was done with working on at least some grunt labout. She was clealry able to carry a lot more than a woman her size should be able to but she'd done wo without complaint she looks over to ROry as she catches up.

<<Your having far too much fun with that morph though later I think I should try some of the ones you brought up that I should Rory.>>

Kotone seems in very good spirits though.
% "All finished up on my end Paladin Danse I'm ready to head out."
Sunstone     Sunstone came along with Kyle, though she seems to be a little wigged out by the Commonwealth and its abundance of irradiated zombie monsters. They came out of the woodwork and lunged at people like they wanted to eat them, and now she's standing somewhere behind and to the side of Kyle, with the most strained smile on her face and her body vibrating subtly like a frightened chihuahua.

    She is trying very, very hard not to freak out. Or at least that's what it looks like. Her appearance is a little odd but maybe not so odd that she'll get a violent reaction from the paladins here. She hopes. She glances around warily all the same, but the more she realizes her apparent allies are well-armed, the less twitchy she seems to get.
Danse How does he fit in here? For one thing, most of the doors in here don't look like they've been on their hinges any time in the prior century. That alone isn't quite enough to explain easy access, though. Fortunately, they have another way into and out of the station, which will come into play shortly. "Ad Victoriam," Danse gives, in what seems like a greeting. Scribe Haylen interrupts, "You might want to be sure they know what you mean, Paladin." "Ah, of course. Ad Victoriam is the Brotherhood's rallying cry. Toward victory. For us, failure is not an option." Part of the many changes Elder Maxson had instituted, to give their organization more of its original backbone.

    He doesn't give quite the confused reception that he did Shin, before, to Jan Ors. Instead, a nod of his head, "We will be looking for a piece of pre-war technology in a research facility. Extra sets of eyes should be useful, especially since Scribe Haylen will remain here." Kyle's mention of his own lament gains a light shake of his head, which for now doesn't have the helmet covering it. "Words won't change their mind. Only deeds. That begins today."

    For a moment, he almost doesn't recognize Will. Though the muffled voice still manages to get through, and calls to mind whom it is. "William Pauwel, correct?" A nice, American-sounding name. He almost manages to sound slightly amused, though he retains his decorum, for now, "Looks like you've taken the dangers of the Commonwealth to heart. If I need any one to check up on the locals...I think I've got my man."

    Rory's form once again gets a slightly pained expression from him. He doesn't instantly reject her, since she at least makes that she has a synthetic body far from a secret. It's just...well, they'll all see, soon enough, if his concerns about this mission prove correct. "That should be a good start on the targetting parameters. Best to be careful. Raiders look scarcely different than the more innocent wastelanders, at times, and we already have attracted the wrong kind of attention." He gives a glance toward the Scribe, next. "Haylen, work with...her, on it. I'll be counting on you and Rhys to keep this place in one piece." Haylen seems a good deal more enthusiastic, as before, "Sir!"
Danse With Kotone's go-ahead, he gives another nod of his head. This is a larger and more diverse team than he could have ever expected, or hoped for. Hopefully this will serve the purpose well, rather than having him regret it. "As I mentioned, our goal today is to retrieve the Deep Range Transmitter from the ArcJet systems research laboratory. Before the bombs fell, it was a contractor for the Department of War, as well as the Department of Space. It was designed for long range communication with Earth-based stations, but it should serve my team's purposes equally well." It goes to figure that anything with range like that, could also boost the station's relatively low power. It also helps that they're from compatible eras of technology.

    He does notice Sunstone, somewhat belatedly. Perhaps she simply hadn't made herself as obvious as some of the others. Her appearance is...unique, but not enough to cause quite the same gut reaction as Rory's various permutations. "You're new to the team, aren't you? I'm Paladin Danse. Let yourself relax, I'll be taking point for this one."

    After that, he begins heading down the hallway of the station, past doors into trashed and collapsed offices, and even the remains of a lock up and interrogation room, the flourescent lamp fixture of the latter still intact and aglow, but dangling from the ceiling by a cable. It all leads down some steps into the garage, which a press of the button from the inside causes the intact door to roll back, out onto what had been a driveway and side street. His power armor's gait looks lumbering, yet it's actually quite efficient, given how the hydraulics and pneumatics counteract the gravity the suit experiences. "We'll be taking what's left of the roadways," by which he apparently means what's left of this cracked pavement. "Be on the watch for mines. The last residents of Cambridge put up quite a fight against the ferals."
Rory White "Understood! I'll divert some attention to Scribe Haylen's terminal so we can figure out targeting parameters. Sadly some things are difficult to automate. Threat detection of sapients is one of them. Not ALL Ghouls are beastly, pitiful creatures... but what separates most? Clothing? The shambling, wild flailing? Their guttural noises? So automated defenses should always have someone who can think and reason to guide them... I despise irresponsible automation." She has a tendency to ramble about technical things and it shows.

    <<Finding a configuration that suits me is proving harder than I thought! But yes, try a few things. It could be fun.>> She radios back to Kotone over the Mesh chat.

    Still, she goes full business when Danse takes the lead. "Understood, sir. Sensors calibrated for threats." That, and her Saucer's sensors. The little frisbee-sized disk drone wobbles through the air thanks to its Ionic drive, keeping an eye in the sky over their operation. High-resolution scanners check ahead for obvious mines, but BURIED ones may prove challenging...
Sunstone     "I am!" Sunstone greets with a cordial tone and a little wave of one of her slender hands. She doesn't look like she's got quiiite the right proportions to be human, and that gemstone on her chest is pretty telling. And she does kind of glow. She lightens up (hah) thanks to the friendly and leaderly demeanor that Danse puts on. "My name's Sunstone," she remembers to say, with a little bit of a blush from the embarrassment of forgetting something as basic as an introduction. She lets it go quickly, though, once they get underway, and she's quick to put on her 'serious mode' when he mentions that there are mines that could be a problem.

    Mines that she approaches and quickly disarms, her eyes surprisingly sharp and able to pick out fine details like where they might be jammed into the baked earth. She smiles and hums to herself while she does this, and has such a light step and a quick and decisive attitude about it that it's probably clear she's got some minor training in such a task. "If I freak out, I blow up," she murmurs to herself, "So don't freak out~" Oh. Maybe she's just a little crazy and has good eyesight.
Kyle Katarn     Luckily Jan's been brought up to speed, so there isn't much time wasted with asking questions that would seem redundant otherwise. Kyle and her follow along loyally, weapons out and their eyes peeled for trouble. "Better we stay close, and call any mines we spot." Jan suggests, already fumbling through her tools for something she can disarm explosives with while Kyle sniffs them out with the Force. He has that gift for picking out trouble, after all.
William Pauwel     "Aw shucks bossman," Will laughs through his gas mask and gives the back of his head a thorough scratching. It's a wonderful mystery of the multiverse why a young man born in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REALITY has such a... properly American name. Is it simply the power of the American Culture, transcending all boundaries of time and space! "You're gonna make me blush iff'n you keep butterin' me up like that," he says, forgetting that /nobody/ is actually going to get to see him blush with that thing on his face. "Well, I'll try not to disappoint! But we ain't exactly gonna be greetin' the neighbours today, are we?"

No, because there is ADVENTURE AFOOT.

Also afoot: land mines.

    "Jeez, whoever wanted people to stay out of these parts really put their back into it," he admires, fishing... a pair of pliers out of the inside pockets of his coat. "Alright, let's just see what can be done here..." And with that, Will slowly begins combing through the mines, using his TRAPFINDING SKILLS to clear the way forward! And to store some extra boom in case they need it later.
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone Yamakawa looks to the Paladin as he gives the last detaisl about what they need to do today.

"So military and Areospace? Sounds like it could be quite a catch of tech if it's not been looted over or distubed right?"

She falls in checking her weapons over for a moment and then follows the group. She listen to the path they are gong to take.

"I see and will do."

She takes two small robots which she deploys and synchs up to.

<<Right I plan to I best make use of it I never know when I might end up in need of using one>>

She seem chipper and easily keeps pace.
Danse While some of the mines have since receded into the turf and dents in the pavement, from the will of the weather, for the most part whomever laid them wasn't too sneaky about it. As the targets were feral ghouls, it is quite likely that they just assumed they would be stupid enough to not care about the mines and run right into them. However, Danse wasn't exaggerating, either. There are a *lot* of these hot little potatoes, and disarming them should make the journey back a lot safer. Those with knowledge of such things would notice that they all seem to be fragmentation charges -- designed to spray shrapnel from inside as well as their own casing. These are pretty common to find around the Commonwealth, even now. The Army made TONS of them. By way of conversation, he responds on the way, "There are methods. The ghouls that can still be reasoned with...I'm certain you will see for yourself, if you stay much longer."

    "Somewhat understandably," he adds, "Many wastelanders don't stop to tell the difference. It has lead to a lot of tension and prejudice on both sides." He has some of his own, but he'll leave that for another time. It's also not every day that someone takes being told they look like a wastelander a compliment, but he didn't mean malice by it, either. It all works out. "That's an affirmative, Kotone," comes another response, as the pace slows somewhat to allow for the mine clearing Elites to do their work. "Though we're only after the Deep Range Transmitter for now, there could be other interesting finds. Once the Brotherhood arrives, we can secure it more properly."

    As he walks, Danse relates details of some of the scenery they pass. For one thing, the first landmark they come across is a bridge across what sensors would indicate is a heavily polluted and irradiated river, and what looks to be some kind of factory. It's not their objective, but the Paladin does remark, having put on his helmet as they set out, so his voice has a light reverb, "The Beantown Brewery. Though their traffic hasn't been heavy lately, we know there are still raiders that have set up shop inside. Not the time to stir up a potential hornet's nest. They will be dealt with, in time." The road seems to follow along the river, passing by a curious concrete installation with six cylindrical objects, as well as several skeletons sprawled across each other in the center.

    He actually pauses for a moment, at that, glancing with his power armor's visor toward the scene. It gives a chance everyone to catch their breath, or what they can find of it in the mid-day, mildly irradiated air. "The Pulowski Preservation Shelters. Before the war, cold-hearted corporations whipped the population into a frenzy, never taking their own threats seriously. They sold these as an 'inexpensive' way to survive the bombs." He doesn't need to say that not many actually succeeded in fulfilling their purpose. They do have the apparatus for immediate survival...for maybe a day or three.
Danse Lastly, they pass by Greygarden, or rather the dirt trail that leads up to it, as well as what is left of the mailbox that once serviced it. Even from down on the roadway, several spherically-bodied, multi-eyed and -limbed robots can be seen working away at what seem to be mutated varieties of Earth crops. There is also a run-down greenhouse directly adjacent, with what seem to be voices coming from inside, in friendly conversation. For what it matters, Danse doesn't seem to be bothered or immediately intrigued by that. He's got his T-60's visor eyes set on that large facility in the distance.

    It's still a bit of a hike, under the rotting corpse of an overpass and monorail that looks like it could collapse on top of you at any moment, but eventually they arrive at that same building. It looks like an enormous office and commercial complex, with what looks like a long-grounded aircraft parked on a landing pad outside, covered in vines and pieces of debris. "We're here. Thanks for dealing with the mines, and keeping an eye out. We got a bit lucky, this time -- none of the Commonwealth's wildlife took an interest in us." Though he does give a glimpse toward the aircraft, he wastes no more time, making his way for the double doors that mark the entrance. "Companies like this are what set the table for the war. Be prepared for anything but a warm welcome. We don't know what kind of defenses they might have set up."

    On the immediate inside, there is what seems to have been a reception area, with a desk and several benches and chairs for those waiting to gain entry. Several skeletons in the area -- quite old, and they probably died from the first blast of radiation, from how it seems almost like they are posed how they would have been perched in life. Danse seems to have a respect for that, going so far as to avoid stepping on several of them, with a slightly higher pacing of his power armor's boots. "--all things considered, it could be in worse condition," he notes, as he switches on his power armor's head lamp, and gives a glance around. "Something's not right, though. Forgive the cliche, but it's 'too' quiet. And the dust has been disturbed recently. Let's continue, with caution."
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone Yamakawa kinds bug eyes a bit at how many frag mines were set up, there was so many of the darn things, and she wonders if they were still going through world war stocks of them.

"Drones in the air I'll let you know if I spot anything with them."

For now it's time to clear mines, she doesn't have the best skill ti diarm them but she can set them off at range, right? She move on ahead as she liustens to the history here of a bit of world that was like but also very unlike her own.

"I take it Raiders are different from Bandits, right...."

she alway got the feeling honestly and she looks at the things for a moment.

"...God that's like something out of an old Progadna reel like Duck and Cover..."
Sunstone     "With the ambient radiation of this world, I'm surprised it's still standing at all. This decay is about two hundred years old! Err, in some places... What did they build this out of...?" The scanner whirrs in an orange hand, picking up the radioactive signatures all over the place. Sunstone has a fairly good idea of how long it takes for a man-made structure, especially modern ones, to decay to uselessness. "In optimal, natural conditions, it could take as little as a decade for a building like this to go from newly built to a plant-filled, rot-eaten husk," she says, "But this still has... wooden furniture, not to mention walls and fine details, despite years and years of weather beating on the structure," she murmurs, pausing as they pass a piece of it in question. Suffice to say, the irradiated world of Fallout doesn't make sense to someone so advanced, but she's never seen such a fringe case.

    "We'll be ready, if anything tries to attack us," Sunstone says, confident in the abilities of those present. And just to keep herself prepared, she taps the gemstone on her chest and manifests what appears to be a firearm out of pure light, which she holds in one of her hands to keep it close in case something attacks them. She keeps her space age looking scanner in her off hand, waving it at bits and bobs that are otherwise useless as she walks by and showing great interest in her eyes.
Rory White Rory can only frown very disapprovingly at some of the sights. Raider infested buildings and... those insanely tiny shelters. "... So tiny and so flimsy looking... and, more stupidly than all other concerns, who could possibly benefit from anyone paying for a shelter put there 'in case of nuclear apocalypse?'" There's downright scorn and disdain in her voice...

    "I'm recognizing strong parallels with my own Earth's history..." Rory murmurs unhappily.

    She's curiously quiet about the matter of Greygarden, but her airborne Saucer can see more of what's going on there and somewhere in the digital expanse of her mind, she's smiling. It's just not showing up on her current Morph's face.

    Finally, her strange four-legged gait slows to a crawl... and she follows Danse on in. taking note of his concerns though... she sprouts more optics.

    Unfortunately, the Saucer must stay outside.

    Sunstone's declarations are met with a nod from the four-legged six-armed vaguely feminine robotic form Rory's taken. "My personal conclusions are that the nature of radiation differs in this world from others. Background radiation likely inhibits most plant growth, keeping the buildings largely free of natural reclamation. But it's only a theory. I had the same thoughts earlier."

    Into the installation they go. Rory raises her two weapon arms...
William Pauwel     The wasteland is... Expansive in a way that a place properly consumed by nature shouldn't be. There are no rolling green plains; the endless expanse of blasted landscape makes things feel so much emptier- so much more HOLLOW than they aught to be. Will doesn't voice his observations; they're little internal thoughts, and so they will stay unmentioned wonders.

Those incongruous metal cylinders, though. Those illicit a quiet, disapproving grunt. "Our ancestors," Will explains as they go along. "They only survived what happened because they had sturdy walls around them. Old cities and underground bases and laboratories, stasis pods and... stuff like that."

"Somethin' that cheap doesn't look like it'd last a day," the young man sniffs. "Those poor folks. Got swindled out of their savings thinkin' it'd buy their safety."

    Ah, but there's no time to mourn. They're still on the move... And eventually, they do reach their destination. "Space exploration, huh? That's pretty keen, I reckon. Probably have all kinds of neat stuff in here!" Maybe he'll have to pick some up! For... personal inspection. But first, THE MISSION! "Yeah, place smells like danger to me too," he observes, unlimbering his oversized handcannon. Its barrel bisects, the inside crackling with arcs of supercharged particles. "What do y'all expect we'll find? Security system gone crazy?"

"'Cause that's how it is for me, half the time," Will admits with a long sigh. "It's always killer robots."
Danse "I can't speak for the structures," Danse notes, as he begins carefully approaching the other end of the entrance hallway. "A lot of the expectations of those from before the bombs, for how things like radiation would play out, turned out to be wrong." Original projections might have been more like Sunstone would have expected, so he's not exactly saying she's wrong, either. As he reaches to pry open the jammed sides of what was once an automatically opening proximity door, his voice doesn't strain, but continues, "I've seen things -- two centuries-old bloodstains that look more like a week old. There are...other mitigating factors, as well." He won't get into the pre-war folly that was the FEV, at least this time, since it isn't relevant. The Elites will probably uncover that on their own, if they continue investigations.

    Giving some credibility to Rory's theories, though, besides how patchy the grass and shrubs are in most places, are how barren the trees remain. It is as if most of them went to sleep for the winter and simply forgot to wake back up. Scans would reveal that many of them aren't as dead as they appear, just indefinitely dormant. It serves to make the landscape incredibly bleak, and the half-collapsed artificial structures stand out even that much more. The skeletons, as well, which should have long begin crumbling into dust from being exposed to the elements...the ecosystem seemingly can't get to work on even that, much.

    After Danse gets the path clear, he remarks to Will, in particular. "Hard to say. Most facilities of this size had at least a Sentrybot or two, as well as some automated turrets, for enforcement. Even before the bombs fell, there were civilian uprisings and protests." What's a Sentrybot? Danse spares a glance at a propaganda poster near the other, more standard workplace safety ones. It features a man in a business suit looking startled, at an ominous, only vaguely humanoid shape rising from behind, a cylcopian red eye menacing. The poster helpfully reminds you to 'Remember your ID; it could save your life!' Which also goes back to Rory's apprehension on letting AI have too much of a say in things.

    Regardless, on the other side of the door is what appears to be the main area for the staff of the facility. Several adjacent offices, as well as a security counter can be seen. There are, indeed, KILLER ROBOTS. Or...well, what might have been, would-be killer robots. Two humble Protectrons, the second most adorable robot after Eyebots, lay damaged and dismembered close to their stasis pods, the control terminal immediately adjacent streaming and endless torrent of communication errors to the two damaged units. Their exposed wires and conduits are still arcing with undischarged electrical potential, indicating fresh 'kills'. The more intact of the two even attempts to quote its catchphrase, "Protect, and - serve." But its voice modulator makes it barely intelligible. There are scorch marks on the walls, seemingly from high-intensity, aka weaponized, laser ablations. There is little else to go on, though.

    That, in itself, is enough to confirm Danse's suspicions. No human, ghoul or anything but a filthy SYNTH has this kind of operational efficiency, to leave not a trace behind. "They already beat us to it," Danse utters under his breath. "They're here, the Institute. I had hoped we would have more time. The operation just became more complicated." Even though Rory's saucer couldn't follow them in, he nonetheless gets an idea. "White, Yamakawa, Ors." They were the professed tech experts, at least, in this kind of thing. "It's a long shot, but some of the cameras in the facility might still be operational. Do you think you can get us eyes ahead? Knowing what we're dealing with might save lives." Namely, theirs. He glances up at one in the very same room, eyeballing about where its cabling would be, and helpfully smashes the wall with a power-assisted fist to gain access to the innards. "As much as it pains me, we might not h
Danse That, in itself, is enough to confirm Danse's suspicions. No human, ghoul or anything but a filthy SYNTH has this kind of operational efficiency, to leave not a trace behind. "They already beat us to it," Danse utters under his breath. "They're here, the Institute. I had hoped we would have more time. The operation just became more complicated." Even though Rory's saucer couldn't follow them in, he nonetheless gets an idea. "White, Yamakawa, Ors." They were the professed tech experts, at least, in this kind of thing. "It's a long shot, but some of the cameras in the facility might still be operational. Do you think you can get us eyes ahead? Knowing what we're dealing with might save lives." Namely, theirs. He glances up at one in the very same room, eyeballing about where its cabling would be, and helpfully smashes the wall with a power-assisted fist to gain access to the innards. "As much as it pains me, we might not have much time."
Rory White "Can do one better." The Saucer couldn't really come inside, as being surrounded by metal walls in close quarters would likely wreak havoc on the ionic drive's effectiveness... and she wants to make sure no approach on the building will go unnoticed.

    Something tiny detaches from her back, unfolding a miniscule propeller. It's a kind of drone known as a Gnat, no bigger than a marble and yet quite able to flit around like its namesake thanks to its tiny rotors. The thing zips off ahead down corridors, hugging walls and observing an amount of stealth approach tactics. "I only brought one of those, unfortunately..."

    She regards the mess that's been made of the Protectrons and Will dashing over to repair it. "Good luck, Mr. Pauwel! These designs look a little clunky, but... wait, Institute?"

    She heads over to the revealed cabling and extends an arm, shapeshifting it into several kinds of jacks and clamps to start interfacing with it. The Flexbot microbots have little trouble forming plugs for the cables and beginning an analysis of the signals...

    "Oh. Oh my. This isn't even digital. Um... give me a moment to figure out how to decode this signal! ... how... how can they have developed automatous AI but not video encoding formats?!"
William Pauwel Damaged robots.

    Anyone who knows anything about Will's track record for dealing with ostensibly hostile but vaguely humanoid and severely damaged machinery should have a decent idea of what he's about to do. The young Chaser darts immediately for the machine that's still only /half/ broken. "Y'all hang on, pardner," he murmurs, tossing back the two flanks of his coat. A whole host of useful tools are revealed in the motion, allowing him to seize a strange attachement for the end of his plasma cannon, and... a pair of pliers. Again. "Let's see if we can't get you back on yer feet, huh?"

Hopefully these things know how to distinguish friend from foe. But even if they don't... Well, he can maybe jury rig SOMETHING.

    Arcs of light spring from the strange attachment onto torn steel, suturing shredded metal and torn wires back together with the RAW FLAME OF CREATION. Will's not exactly /trained/ or even familiar with robots in this world, but he's repaired Ancient technology before! How bad can this be?

    "What's 'The Institute?'" Will asks whle he works, flashes of plasmaic light blasting across the tinted lenses of his goggles. "Y'all don't make 'em out to be particularly friendly folks."
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone Yamakawa Says "It really is miss."

she looks over to Sunstone and does seem to be interesting in the strnge woman for a moment.

"A friend put it to me best Miss. They have crazy space voodoo radation here compared to the rest of the multiverse."



<<Ya it seems like Mcharthic never ended from what I seen over in Johnny's neck of the woods. Rory.>>

"It's as I said, pretyt nuts but I'm a wrech wench when you get down to it. It's a damn shame honestly though."

Given Kotone's world ability to clean up it's radation but it's proven useless here. She notes the ID mention and she seems a bit worried at this.

KOtone's going to start looking about but the killer robots are are there and ruined. She pick up the errors from the units and looks t them for a moment.

"Someone's been here, recently."

Kotone goes for her weapon now as she makes ready.

"Right if they are using roboco's operating systems here I should be able to get into it I have enough experiance with it."

Thank you Johnny, she'll have to thank the Couier next time she sees him but for now she's going to start looking for cameras and she'll get to work she knows she'll be using something akin to radio rather than the wuireless she's used to.

"On it, Ors! Rory let's get to it."
Danse The answers to the odd mix and match of technological development are varied and curious. Though it mostly boils down to never really giving up on analog technology to a great degree, and further miniaturizing what they had, to satisfy the government's requirements. It's too bad there's no Pip-Boy around to really marvel over, that was the true peak of vacuum tube complexity. That would actually likely work in Will's favor, though, as he sets to work, while Danse watches him briefly, half in barely restrained annoyance and half in confusion. It seems that he's not the kind that can simply stand by idly while everyone else does work, though, "I'm going to move on ahead and keep watch for anything that might crawl out." It's hard to determine if he means that figuratively or literally, but given those ferals... "Radio or follow as soon as you have something." With that, he steps foot down another corridor, which seems to lead down past some other offices, toward more of a proper laboratory area. It is a research facility, after all.

    While they had been effectively fixed in position for presumably the past two centuries, as their old control protocols had tripped several failsafes, the old cameras are in fact still working, even if the picture isn't as clear as it could be, even by television standards. Monochromatic, and somewhat distorted by the signal loss in the degraded cable (gosh, don't you wish it was digital?), it still mostly gets the job done, once the timing signals would be figured out and fine-tuned. The direct servo controls would still be working as well, at least on the majority of them, as they had been parked that whole time, though it's hard to say how long the aged lubricant on the gear threads would hold out, with going that long without maintenance. For the most part, the facility seems as dead as the skeletons that can be seen to litter it, still seated at their desks. Paper work will KILL YA! Yet, closer to the main research labs, Rory would see it. Or them. Several humanoid figures, almost skeletal but with several pieces of 'flesh' hanging off.

    It is only as one approaches the camera in question and walks into the light that it becomes clear that it's no human, or even a feral ghoul. It's some kind of humanoid robot, with luminous, nixie-tube irises, its inner frame covered by a crude mockery of a humanoid shell. Well, now she might begin to understand those long, distrustful glances Danse had given her at first encounter. It actually pauses at the camera, stopping to look dead up with its half-of-a-face, before continuing on its patrol. They seem to be armed with rifle and handgun weapons, though a different sort than Danse's -- they look almost freshly made.

    Kotone would find that the computer systems in use in the facility, while quite patchwork from failed network infrastructure, is indeed using exactly the same RobCo software as...well, basically everything in the Fallout universe, whether it be that certain other wasteland, or different time periods of this one. Accordingly, it isn't difficult to break into or navigate, if she is already used to it. There are actually two important pieces of data that would make themselves immediately available. The first is about the main project that was being worked on here, at the time the bombs fell. Some kind of nuclear propulsion system, that was intended to carry human explorers to the outer solar system, and perhaps with further development, even beyond. A shame, some backup colonies would have been really nice.

    The other is confirmation that the Deep Range Transmitter was also under active development, as sort of a backup if the rocket engine project fell through, and is indeed here. It seems that it was in the deeper labs, where all those robots are currently wandering around. Well, that's going to be a problem.

    Back to Will: The Protectron fusses somewhat at being disturbed further, but honestly can't put up much of a struggle in its condition. Its lamps and tubes actually power do
Danse Back to Will: The Protectron fusses somewhat at being disturbed further, but honestly can't put up much of a struggle in its condition. Its lamps and tubes actually power down for a moment, mid-maintenance. WE'RE LOSING HIM! ...before firing back up with a sputtering start. With enough TLC, it actually gets back up onto its legs, and seems to take to its new master quite easily. "Power-ing, up. Protect-ron, on-line." It meanders around the room afterward, but doesn't seem to stray far from Will. It does caution, though, "Inter-fering, with a po-lice, robot, is a, fe-lo-ny." ...seems he switched its protocol, accidentally. Well, that's fine, hopefully.
William Pauwel Oh no! They're losing him! Emergency! Emergency! But--

Yes, now is the time!

THE TIME TO USE THE HEALING TOU--

Oh, wait, no, there it goes.

    Will stands back as Sheriff Protectron comes back online. "Well hey," Will grins from ear to ear, "Looks like I can jury rig a robot back together just fine afterall!" As if there was any real doubt!! (There was a lot of doubt.) The Protectron's... veiled threat comes as a mild surprise, though. "Oh, uh. Don't worry, Sheriff! I won't do any... Interferin'. Though y'all won't mind support, do y'all?"

    Will chases after Danse not long after, tearing the welding torch from the business end of his favorite gun. He lets Sheriff Protectron take point, though-- never obstruct an officer, after all! "Hey, boss," Will calls, pressing up against a nearby wall for cover. "So, y'all have any advice on how to deal with these... Synth things? Any... you know, target areas?"
Danse Sheriff Protectron's gait is somewhat funny to behold. It certainly isn't fast, but it gets the job done. It waddles down the hallway with its freshly welded together frame, pivoting every so often to glance into adjacent rooms, as it continues toward the rendezvous point. It seems to pay not much mind to Will, as it goes, despite that earlier warning. It recognizes him as its master, and Will's allies are its allies. Eventually, though, following behind it pays off, as its own sensors seem keyed in on the environment it spent the past two centuries standing sentry over. "A-ttention, hos-tiles detected. Beginning, se-curity sweep." It then meanders down that hallway, toward where Danse is situated. "This is, now, a live - fire, a-rea. Ci-vilians, should stand, clear."

    Danse emerges from the side room where he had been waiting, to behold Will's handiwork. "...you actually got it working. It looked ready for the trash heap." It's, sort of like praise, maybe. "From my experience, aiming for the head is pointless, despite instinct. Go for the body, where the control mechanisms are actually situated." Sheriff Protectron seems quite preoccupied with the intruders it has detected, and it has been detected, in turn. Completely synthetic voices, with slightly different timbres and pitches to give them the illusion of some individuality, call out from further down a stair well: "He-llo?" "In-truder detected. By order of the Institute, you *will* be eliminated." Yeah...the thing about Protectrons, stealth is definitely not their game. Within moments, the two sides are already exchanging fire. Brilliant red laser bolts fire from the gun mounts on the Protectron's outstretched claw arms, while bright blue beams blast upward at it in exchange. It's hard to tell, from this angle, whom if either is getting the better side of it.

    The power-armored man takes this chance of distraction to hop over the railing of the stairwell, the pneumatics of the legs not only absorbing the shock of the landing, but blasting the resulting momentum outward as a pressure wave, that momentarily jostles the spindly forms of the Gen 1 Synths from their aiming. Using this opening to put some distance between him and the Synths, Danse backs into an adjacent doorway of the labs, opening fire with his own red-tuned laser. "Lasers hot! This is the part of the job I love!" So he's not purely some kind of emotional icicle, after all.
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone Yamakawa is into the network, thankfully she's got experianced and still she marvels how such an old lanauge in her world was refined to do thinks no one one her world dreamed they could. She does get the project data and she backs it upand will get moving. She's got her task done so she's going to stealth to catch up with everyone else as there seems to be synths lose in the complex and she knows how it goes with combat drones. Her world uses them, Rory's world does and she's got experiance with more than that.
William Pauwel     "Well, it weren't easy!" Will chuckles at what little praise anyone can ever really hope to get out of Paladin Danse. "Almost lost him there for a second, but looks like the worst of the damage was a broken main power conduit. Got that fixed and the rest just sort of followed!" Speaking of following, the Protectron is proving quite an effective compass! Unfortunately, its needle points only towards DANGER.

    And sure enough, the lasers start firing, the plasma starts arcing, and Will's heart starts pumping in a far-too-familiar rhythm. He's done this before. The only difference is that these robots look a little more human than the usual gyrodrone. He can't exactly jump down a full set of stairs like Danse can, but the young Chaser sprints down as quick as a bolt out of the blue.

And in his hands, a whole hiveful of /other/ blue bolts.

    "It ain't technically a laser, but I'm good to go, boss." The Solano's barrel crackles and pops, spewing a plume of incendiary fog. Lightning arcs through the roiling thunderhead, coils of electricity streams across the Chaser's leather gloves. His arms spring up, the iron sights ligning up on one of the half-hollow husks of the not-so-distant Synths.

    He depresses the trigger. A sphere of eye-searing power erupts from the Solano's barrel. Will fires twice more, bathing the darkened halls with THE POWER OF THE SUN CREATED BY MAN.
Rory White With little reason to retain connection, Rory disconnects from the security systems. She's spent the time analyzing ALSO reconfiguring her Morph. Those few minutes were all the time needed to shift back to bipedal, now with four arms instead of six. The two 'upper' arms are in fact more like praying mantis scythes, but they end in energy weapon lenses. Meanwhile... she's produced a laser rifle of Transhuman make seemingly from nowhere and has it clutched in her 'normal' arms.

    She dives into the chamber after Danse and the protectron, takes a flying leap up to the second floor and manages to magnetically CLING to a wall with both feet and stay rigid. From this bizarre position she lets off shots at the Synths... which, of course, are invisible save for the violet glows where the lasers strike centers of mass and melt things into a mess. As before. Or perhaps weirder things. AS BEFORE.

    But she doesn't STAY there for more than a second. Moving with great speed and precisely calculated precision she ducks behind cover...

    ... And then the WEAPON SHE LEFT BEHIND, which has managed to sprout tendrils and clamp itself to the railing, continues to fire. It's a rifle with mechanical chicken legs that's just clambering about and firing at things...

    It looks so very, very wrong.

    And if any Synths turn to shoot it, she peeks out from behind a mangled mainframe and lets loose with a shredder pistol to their backs. Tons of tiny flechettes!
Danse The Synths, a group of at least half a dozen, because the Institute doesn't really do small groups, are slightly more prepared for the conventional (for this world) weaponry that Danse and the Protectron exhibit. The laser bolts of those two, forming two parts of a pincer around them, manage to blast off and scorch mark parts of that outer plastic cover, even blasting pieces off, and an arm or two from errant blasts. They retain functionality from even that much damage, still keeping their blue lasers focused on their targets. The Protectron advances further down the stairwell, but is not difficult for Will to overtake, if he chooses to. Even though it notes in its monotone voice, "Cit-izens, are advised, to flee." One of the Synth's bolts scores a direct hit to the plexiglass dome that covers its head, an presumably what are its sensors, but the Protectron ambles ever onward, bravely taking on the danger! "Pro-tect, and, serve." With that finality, it actually blasts one of the Synth's legs off, causing it to collapse to the ground...where it continues firing, prone, but not willing to give up.

    "You are damaging, valuable, Institute property," The Synth protests, though there is no true sentience behind it. Only weighting algorithms and pre-determined response routines. Despite that, they do have some semblance of tactics. As they sense more arrivals, in the form of Rory and Will, they begin to fan out, before grouping up in a rough semicircle at one corner of the chamber, between their assailants and the technology the themselves had come to secure. "Please surrender," one implores in its pre-programmed manner. It's doubtful that surrender would see these things dispense any mercy, if Danse's earlier tales of the Institute's misdeeds were true. They try to divide up their fire as best as they can, and they are completely fooled by the dangerous decoy that Rory had left behind. The shredder seems, while it might not be quite as effective as energy blasts, to do the job just as well, likely through pure numerical superiority. More scraps of their plastic skin are ripped apart, all but exposing the skeleton-like structure beneath, as well as their internal components.

    Will's powerful, spherical shot sends one of them slamming against the wall, where it twitches several times, attempting to regain its balance, before it collapses into a heap on the floor. Another weighted algorithm comparison, and one of the Synths switches from its laser to what looks like a security officer's baton, but arcing with menacing bits of electricity. It ignores the other threats for now, aiming to charge into melee range with him, and these things are quite fast when they want to be, unhindered by things like muscle fibers or skin. "I am sorry," it says, with absolutely no actual remorse behind the words, "The Institute requires your death." Danse fires a few shots directly at that Synth, but whether it's enough, or quick enough, is another matter.

    For all of their sensors that seemed to detect other life forms, and robots, in their vicinity, they don't seem to catch on to Kotone's presence. Even as a fresh wave of reinforcements arrives from further within the labs. Or rather, they know that an unseen form is there, but they are unable to pinpoint it. They call out seemingly to hear, two of them pausing in the hallway, "Why are you hiding?" "Stealth capabilities. Interesting." They begin a search.
William Pauwel Noooo, Sherrif Protectron! Will winces as its sensor-dome is blown apart, but he so bravely marches on regardless! Don't worry, sherrif, you don't fight alone! Will...

Will is getting charged at by a skeletal doomrobot.

    "Oh what in the fresh he--eeeeeck are you!?" Will gapes before instinct kicks in and he leans back on his heels. A set of wheels pop down from hidden compartments on his boots. They dig into the floor as a set of powerful servos kick in. The Chaser suddenly begins backpedalling, streaking away, stirring up a plume of long-settled and possibly radioactive filth like some kind of cartoon dirt cloud.

Then he hears... More Synths on their way.

Well. This could get bad... Unless--

"HEY Y'ALL," Will calls, reaching a hand into his coat to fetch... a strange brown knapsack. "HEADS DOWN!"

    He wheels further back, but not before lobbing a strange disk onto the ground immediately in front of him... And then he tosses /the entire bag/ down towards where the other Synths are charging in from.

    Will tumbles back-- he apparently collided with a toppled desk. He rolls onto his back, flops onto his belly, takes aim at the vague direction of the bag-toss... and fires.

A roiling sphere of power streaks out, tearing through the dustcloud, into the melee, and... /Right into a bagful of mines./

That disk he threw out a second ago? ALSO A MINE.

MINES. MINES FOR EVERYONNNNE
Rory White "They're not terribly clever. I suspect they're being directed by an overseer unit. or something!" Rory exclaims, though she turns a sensor lens towards the Protectron and its bizarre attempts to act like a police officer. That's... kind of... startling. Terrifying, even.

    "I'm not sure which is worse." She murmurs.

    "Mass production models. Tenacious. Coordinated. Versatile, but not adaptable." As amazing as that might seem, her analytic software is already studying every movement and decision the Synths make and under what apparent conditions. Their rate of fire, their target acquisition routines, range of vision and reaction speeds, all being measured and plotted into a mathematical formula for dealing with them effectively.

    Exploiting some of that, Rory makes good of her time behind cover. A panel opens on her leg and she hurls a small plasma grenade towards the Synths... then takes out another, but this one, she cooks a bit and takes aim for where she's CERTAIN they'll pick as the optimal spot to take cover at in the room...
Danse The Gen 1 Synths, well...they are AIs, well-designed but still ultimately formulaic and algorithmic in their approach to situations. They have their threat analysis and network a solution between them. It is actually pretty good, for what Danse claims are the Institute's left overs from R&D, and no doubt they're effective as shock troops against less prepare wastelanders that aren't of an Elite's caliber. Unfortunately, that also means the figurative black box of their responses can be effectively cracked, with enough observation of their reactions -- at least until the next version of their software comes along and seals the old exploits. They can also be overcome by the unpredictable -- for example, the man with the plasma gun having a literal sack full of fragmentation mines never entered into their lists of immediate scenarios. It plays out quite spectacularly...

    Their reaction speeds are quite good, given their age. And the fragmentation mines, either from their own age, or by design, give an ominous beep of their proximity trigger before actually detonating. That gives the ones approaching in the hallway at least some time to react and attempt to put some distance between them. It is only partially successful -- two are still operational, but they have sustained a lot of limb damage, and they instead attempt to claw their way back forward, with their remaining good arm. The ones that had remained in the room do indeed take cover, in the procedurally optimal place, behind some sturdy, old crates. There is just enough clearance to bounce a grenade off the ceiling above the crates and have it land in their midst, if Rory's aim is true. Presumably, it is, because that sends them scrambling again, in an override of their programming, but it's still not quite enough!

    Danse, whom emerges from around the doorway that he had been using for cover, blasts the remains for good measure with a few laser equivalents of double tap. Sheriff Protectron even joins in, ruthlessly gunning down its own robotic kinfolk, before announcing after all signs of activity have ceased. "The cri-minals, have been, app-rehended. Law, and order, have been, re-stored." The nixie tube irises of the Synths' eyes finally seem to lose their glow, and the laboratory area is quiet. A welcome change from the last few frantic minutes. "Well, that could have gone better," Danse admits. "--but you've proven yourselves. Well done." He moves over to a terminal, which should be hilariously undersized for his power armor's gauntlet hands, but he manages all the same. "--damn it, the Deep Range Transmitter. One of them must have taken it. Search their bodies for hidden compartments. It couldn't have gone far."

    It won't take too long to discover, though, given the extreme destruction of the Synths. The good news is the compartment he mentioned is quite sturdy, and would have survived all the blasts and explosions, so it should be fine. The Deep Range Transmitter itself is a discrete electronic device, and likely couldn't be confused for just another Synth component. Regardless, it seems the retrieval is almost finished. It gives Danse a moment to reflect, as he glances out at the bell of a rocket engine, in a larger, adjacent testing chamber. "--the people of the old world were so close. But their future was stolen from them by the very leaders they trusted. The Institute seems to want to follow in those footsteps, but the Brotherhood won't allow that to happen."
Kotone Yamakawa Kotone Yamakawa is now being hunted now by the Synth she's now looking about she doesn't want to deal with them. She's got the idea they are very likely hostile she's not even sure why they are seekling her even s they call out. She moves a bit as she's going to try to get clear of this she's not looking to fight these things if she cna help it. Rory's comments about robot and humanoid deisng she's going to try to squeek by and get back to the main group she doesn't wnt to risk them sending of data about her to be honest.