legionmissions | SILENT HORIZON - [Part 1: The In-Between] [modplot]

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SILENT HORIZON - [Part 1: The In-Between] [modplot]

Who| Everyone who signed up
What| 2 spoopy
Where| In The In-Between, the pocket dimension inside the Silent Horizon
When| After Valor's Day. Mission starts shortly before "No Sanity Clause" and runs simultaneously in game time
Warnings/Notes| Potential warnings for EVERYTHING. This is a horror plot that may tread a lot of ground. Please keep in mind that you can stumble on disturbing stuff in almost any thread. We advise all players to put warnings in the subjects of threads when they lean towards cut-worthy stuff.

The mission was simple. The team had to board the derelict Silent Horizon, a ship with an experimental stardrive, after it finally reappeared in UP space, many hours after it was supposed to reappear, during its first field test. No life signs were aboard, but the presence of several Roboticans on the crew -- who were undetectable by bioscan -- meant that the ship had to be boarded to make sure the Robotican crewmen were gone, too.

The United Planets government, concerned about the loss of the crew members, asked the Legion to step in, in case the threat on board was of a metapowered nature. Due to the massive danger implied by an entire starship crew going missing, the response team sent on the mission was relatively large, more than enough to handle any hostiles. None of this "we'll just send one tiny team to go alone into a giant starship against an unknown threat" business. No, if there was a hostile force on the ship, the plan was "let's drop 25+ Legionnaires on its head." Safety in numbers.

It was a good idea. In theory. In most cases, it would've given them the edge that would've let them face something very nasty without succumbing to it themselves. But in practice, it just meant that it was a much larger team that suddenly went missing after watching the last video log of the previous crew on the command deck.

Screams poured out of the screen the moment it started to play -- automatically -- when they entered the command deck. Onscreen, they saw the original crew murdering each other, tearing each other apart in a blood-soaked rampage.

"Wait, stop! What's wrong with everyone? Why are you --?" cried out one of the Robotican crew members, clearly immune from whatever was causing the madness, but his cries went unheeded as one of his Coluan crew-mates bashed his head clean off with a chair.

After the video played, the darkness swept in, wrapping around the whole team of Legionnaires, making them feel frozen all the way down to their bones and stealing consciousness away from them. When they woke again, they all found themselves separated, waking up in a realm of nightmares.

The halls breathe here -- at least in the places that have walls. They flex in and out, like the passageways inside the lungs. Sometimes the walls give way to open nightmare-scapes, remote and foggy, or bright and alien and exposed. The landscape bends and shifts around them, reacting to their thoughts and fears. And every so often, far off, there is the pitter-pat of something strange moving through this place. Like the sound of many feet -- or hands -- slapping against the ground or flesh-walls.

At some point, there is always a voice that each of them hears, tinny and robotic and distant, warning them of a being called the Faceless, that rules this realm. They're told not to feed from his blood, that if they do they'll be made a part of this place. If they accept his offer, and change forms, they'll eventually bleed to death, and if the Faceless isn't stopped before they die, those that die in their mutated forms will belong to him forever.

It's not the only voice they'll hear, though. This is a land filled with whispers. And screams. And the sounds of begging sometimes, too.

And for some of the Legionnaires, the In-Between speaks to them, touches something deep and dark inside them -- and it's calling them home.

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"Not anymore."

Not that he considered Reaper on his side to begin with, Legionnaires or not. Right now, however, it's clear that they have a big problem on their hands. 76 already knows that this thing is not going to be reasoned with.

He senses Azúcar's slight reluctance, but in the next instant Reaper is rushing at them, the hallway changing around them, and that noise--76 almost feels pain in response, that thing in his chest wrenching itself around one more time.

They don't have the luxury of time, and 76 doesn't waste it. He puts himself between Azúcar and Reaper, levels his rifle, and fires off his trio of rockets.

Resistance. Even when he can see it, feel the atmosphere shifting as he rushes them, he can't stop himself in time to avoid the rockets. With a deafening roar, the rockets explode against his chest and the walls abruptly stop changing.

As the thin smoke clears, Reaper isn't in sight. Even in the dim lighting, one can see the residue of black blood coating the ground like tar, but other than that it's quiet. Normally, this is where people would think 'Phew, that was a close one. Good thing he's dead now!', but... the ground gurgles quietly, bubbles forming on the surface of the blood. Black dust and puffs of smoke like mushroom spores burst out from the bubbles, swirling ever so slightly that one would have to put their nose to the ground to see it.

76 doesn't believe for a second that Reaper is really dead--that's far too easy, and he knows what it takes to kill a super-soldier, to say nothing of Reyes' regenerative capabilities. Whatever this place did to him, he can't imagine it made him easier to kill.

He keeps his eyes trained on what's left, not convinced the dark puddle isn't going to launch itself at them. What he wouldn't give for a flamethrower.

"Don't move."

He holds a hand out to Azúcar, preventing her from getting any closer. His gun is still at the ready, and his insides throb.

"It won't be that easy."

Don't move, he says, and she's flush with anger for the hot spark of a second for it. For all of this. One hand snapped down over his forearm where he's raised it in front of her, and it's all misplaced— even 76's fight against Los Muertos wasn't distinctly hers, wasn't personal— logically she knows as much. It's the situation that has her livid, and Jack is the unfortunate vehicle in this scenario, stuck punctuating the bottom line in an effort to keep them both alive.

Her grip tightens for a beat, nails dug in before she wrenches her hold on him like a lifeline.

Whatever state he's in now, Gabriel isn't wholly dead yet - and the longer she can keep these two from hammering the last few nails into the coffin of their past, there still might be time to fix it. "No mames, Dígitos— we need to leave, now!"

They're both right, in their own way. Jack is right to remain overly wary and cautious, and Sombra is right to be in a rush to get the hell out of there. They're both right because they'll need all of their combined instincts and skill to get out of this alive.

Defeating Reaper isn't necessarily hard, but it's not easy either. What made it 'easy' is that he didn't take massive risks beyond his capabilities. He knows when toeing the line becomes straight up launching himself over it. Right now, he doesn't recognize that line. All he has is a zombie-like drive, forcing him onward.

What normally would've kept him down, or encouraged him to retreat, doesn't do the trick. The bubbling intensifies, the smoky smell of flesh and blood filling the space rapidly as it starts to expand. Regenerating is no easy feat, and time-consuming, not to mention incredibly gruesome in this particular form. It's no quick and dusty swirl of particles that once used to be his body, oh no— strands of white and gray veins, slick and organic begin to bloom from the surface as his face begins to slowly stitch itself together. Hopefully by then, they'll have thought of a better plan than to stand there and yell at each other.

76 is going to be stupid, basically--at the very least, he knows he can provide cover for Azúcar to get out of the way. Maybe that's stupid. Maybe he just wants to kill Reaper that badly. He's about to squeeze down on the trigger, but the sight of Reaper regenerating gives him a moment of pause. He doesn't look back to see if Azúcar is running.

After a moment of watching (looking for...he doesn't know what--maybe some indication that Gabriel is still in there), he realizes he can't waste any more time.

He opens fire and advances, body almost moving of its own accord, thought process shrinking down to a pinpoint as his vision tunnels. It's clear he's about to meet Reaper head-on, and if Azúcar is smart, she'll stay out of the way.

Unless 76 is leaving with her, she isn't running. They'll kill each other— or maybe Gabe will kill Jack, it's hard to know what the Faceless' improvements might have done to him. Maybe she should let him.

—No. No, he needs his blood. The more violent Gabriel's injuries, the faster he'll sink into the Faceless' grip, if the voices she's heard are right. This is stupid, senseless. Heels dug in deeper than the fucking ground and Jack's already angling for a fight, she can see it in his shoulders as he watches sinew knit together. A knife to her ribs for reasons she doesn't know how to pinpoint. Probably won't ever bother to.

And then he fires.

"No— !"

Lunging forward, Sombra aims to latch onto his arm again— to drag it sharply downward and disrupt his aim, even if only by degrees. Does it make her seem noble? Selfless? The opposite of the truth, even without trying. There's so little tech on him, no matter how much violet lines coil across his silhouette from where her nails dig in she's not sure it'll find purchase. At least aside from the visor he's so fond of.

If her hold on him is broken quickly enough, she won't have the chance to shut down his visual feed.

The pulse fire spits off onto the ground, striking the pool every so often and he shrieks at the pain. It burns through him, yes, but it's not enough to do significant damage as 76 had done before. He's still able to get through the bulk of the regeneration, which is the sickly pale face. His mask floats up with the quickly solidifying black ooze as it coils rapidly into a bunch of muscles.

He lurches to the side, the pain going through his leg as a stray pulse-fire shoots through his calf. It avoids hitting anything major, nothing he can't regenerate from slowly over time while he's wraithing about. He'd thank Sombra if he could, though that hardly spares her from his hunger.

Sombra finds her mark, and suddenly 76's visor is static and flashing, outside interference disrupting his HUD display. He's so taken aback by being grabbed that he very nearly whirls around on her--and certainly would, if not for the fact that Reaper is the more pressing threat, something he's about to let her forget.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

76 is quick to jerk his arm away, still trying to close the distance between himself and Reaper. The aim is not to give him a chance to recover, and she's swiftly wasting what precious little time they have.

"Get out of here!"

"Terco pendejo!"

There's a slight scrape, a meager little snap as he tugs himself loose and her nails click together over nothing but air. At most, she's a nuisance: without firing on him (possibly even if she did, unless Reaper was working in tangent), there's no inherent threat to be found in her presence - he isn't keen on listening, she won't change his mind.

Idiot. Idiot.

It's down to the wire— seconds, less than, maybe— so fuck it. There's a digital flicker as she throws her translocator past him as a means to bypass his reflexes, teleports to it immediately in a flash of blue, putting herself between the two while Reaper finishes knitting himself back together. No matter how much he imagines himself ruthless and cutting, there are some lines even 76 won't cross.

"You stay here, you die— I can't do this alone, Dígitos, don't force me to leave you!"

The balls of red-hot heat comes toward him, and he prepares himself with another inhuman lurch of his body. Bones crack and reconfigure within the squirming mass of slimy leather, groaning in a voice that sounds like two.

They just keep getting closer, one flashing right in front of the other and he inhales noisily in what might be impatience. His foot snaps into place, slamming the hoof down on the ground and blood spatters the ground in thick globs. He has to kill, he must devour that globe of red and oranges, and his impatience is rewarded with some quicker regeneration where it counts.

"You stay here, you die— I can't do this alone, Dígitos, don't force me to leave you!"

One lurching step forward, his body struggling to move forward again.

All of it happens almost too fast to register, Azúcar behind him one minute and in front of him the next, and he's already so addled that he's not sure what just happened. What he does know is that he wants her out of the way, because he's increasingly overwhelmed with the singular goal of ending Reaper while he has the chance.

Whatever is trying to claw its way out of his chest twists again, and he's shoving Azúcar aside with a growl, all but launching himself right at Reaper, closing the rest of the distance and ignoring his gun in favor of the brute force of his fists.

There's a fleeting snarl from her as he does, her own teeth bared as he shoves her aside and rushes forward with a hunger too consuming to control. In her eyes? He's not out of his mind or corrupted by the nightmare: as far as she can tell, this is him.

And she's done.

Enhanced as he is now, Gabe will take care of him. Decision made and committed to in an instant when she bitterly activates her camouflage, slipping away into invisibility before her former-partner has the opportunity to focus on anything but the soldier charging in bare-handed.

Good luck, Jack Morrison. You're on your own.

The red-hot figure rushes at him and he reacts in an instant. The other disappearing heat signature is fully ignored to gear himself up for the most dire threat at hand. His body is still a little sluggish from the amount of regenerating he's had to do (even in dead-ish human form, it took him days to fully recover from a blast of that level), so he's punched square in the face.

He howls in pain and anger, clawing at 76 when he's able. Where once there would've been some satisfaction in the fight, in the thrill, is now just an animal-like need to kill.

If 76 registers Sombra's exit from the scene, he doesn't outwardly acknowledge it, overwhelmed by the desire to finish the fight with Reaper while he has the chance. He vaguely understands that trying to exchange blows with someone who isn't fully solid might not be very effective.

But he's not exactly thinking rationally right now. 76 outright tackles Reaper, sending them both toppling to the ground. He wastes no time lashing out again, doing his best to find a place to hold on to, even as Reaper claws at whatever he can reach. The visor helps in that department.

All he can really do is his best to keep Reaper pinned, at least until he has a better opening.

As a mind-controlled creature of the Faceless, he's not too concerned about winning this fight. He acts on instincts, now just reacting to everything rather than being proactive about it. Still in his healing stages, he can't do much besides stave off worse damage. Despite that, he still writhes and howls throatily like he's drowning, trying to throw 76 off of him.

The Faceless will come. Even if that's not what he's thinking about, it'll happen soon enough. They'll probably keep attacking each other, as if their muscle memory is attuned to just beating the ever-loving shit out of each other. Their anger and frustration seems to know no bounds, it seems.

76 can feel himself slipping, that creeping thing inside him threatening to push its way out of his chest. He knows, on some level, that by wasting time and energy fighting Reaper, he's just making it easier for the Faceless to take him. In fact, that's probably what's happening right now.

The more visceral part of him doesn’t care—wants to see Reaper dead at any cost. If this is his chance, so be it. He doesn't know if the mask is part of him now, but he claws at it with the intent to rip it right off Reaper's face.

It's a win-win in Reaper's case. This creature attacking him is slowly changing, and something within him can also sense it. Even through the angry red haze of flying fists and contorting body parts, he can sense it. A win.

He lets out a groan of pain, the strong fingers digging into his oozing black skin as it tries to rip the mask off his face. Unfortunately for both of them, it's no longer a mask. Permanently fused to his face, it only makes the visible cracks split and thick veins protruding through the milky surface of his face pulse faster.

With a desperate attempt to create space between them, he winds his arm back and drives his three sharp claws into the side of 76's ribs.

When 76 realizes he can't pull the mask off, he lets out an outright snarl, mind too suddenly feral to understand that he's left himself vulnerable in his efforts. Reaper's claws dig into his sides, the snarl becoming an outright roar as his grip slackens. The pain is enough to give Reaper an opening, even knock him off balance if he tries.

Through the haze of sharp pain as rough fingers drag off of his mask, he bellows like an animal before struggling madly to kick at 76. He definitely wants to knock him off balance. Give him a little room, and he's well on his way trying to upend 76 onto his back, claws still slamming into his sides like a meat tenderizer.

The loss of blood accelerates his own transformation, mask cutting into his face until the edges bury themselves seamlessly under his skin, metal tearing through his jacket as Reaper keeps him pinned down.

If he notices any of this, he doesn't show it, all his efforts focused on throwing Reaper off him, digging claws in wherever he can reach.

Reaper can feel it, the familiar presence of a monstrosity, transforming right in front of his hollowed-out eyes. Even as the man-turned-monster writhes and thrashes, injuring him in the process, he feels a welling sense of satisfaction.

He shrieks, the sound wet and warbled in the back of his throat as they continue to wrestle violently with each other. The Faceless is bound to show up soon, whether he wins this fight or not. Even as he's barely clinging to his own form, slowly being destroyed by the sheer amount of injury inflicted upon him even after shot at by rockets, Reaper knows he'll be back to continue this fight.

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SILENT HORIZON - [Part 1: The In-Between] [modplot]

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Heroism -100

/finger guns

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