Welcome to Gaia! ::

Earlier
"So, are you game or what?" Silas asked and pushed the paper across the the table. "Just put your name there and you get your load tomorrow."
The alien sitting next to him wriggled his small tentacles and grunted in a way Silas' computer translated as uncertain nervousness. "What, you don't trust me?"
"Shii-ha reck rak fer Gref jag", the mouth like part coughed. Silas leaned against the wall and straightened his hair. "Yea yea. I sure notice you are a newbie to this business. Gref has dealed with me countless times, and have I ever left him down? Not once."
The alien swayed from left to right. Silas disliked this new contact immensely, and only the profitable business with the Shruug kept him from slitting that blob open. "So, will you sign the paper or do I tell Gref how inefficient you have been? I am sure he hates to hear that his favourite root has to be bought from elsewhere."
This made the blob panic and spill out something even the translator had trouble to deal with. Silas just stared at the alien and waited. After a minute or two one of the appendages took a writer and scanned the official badge of the Shruug clan.
Silas grabbed the parchment and checked it for forgeries. "It was a pleasure", he said against better knowledge, "I'll drop off a bag of sugar for you. The load will be there, and so should be the dough."
He left the table, contract firmly in his pocket. Luckily he didn't even have to threat the slug with his energy blade. The contact seemed to be happy, and he better should be. Sugar was to Shruug what cocaine was to humans and somewhat about the same price.

Present:
After the window crashed everything went a bit odd. Silas decided to slick out before the 'law' decided to throw its arm towards him and ask questions. The bartender opened the hatch without saying a word and grateful gang leader tossed him a few credits.
The damp and out-of-order vent was slimy and some parasite rodents scuttled here and there. Silas disliked it, but being a gang leader of smugglers and food-dealers meant he had to get used to it.
Eventually he managed to push the vent hatch to the corridor open. Matt Damon sat there and waved his hand when Silas emerged from the escape route.
"How was it, boss?"
Silas scraped his knees clean of dirt. "Shruug are a deal but I didn't get to meet the arms dealers before everything went to hell. How is security?"
"Either bribed or jammed from this area."
"Good, let's go visit the next place. Make a note that we have to note the guys that we want another meeting."

"Fascinating..." thought Sol. He had watched this man, wearing full armor, walk around the club for over an hour now. The fight hadn't occured, but something much more interesting had appeared. The human was wandering around, seeming tied to random objects and people. It looked scared of its environment, unwilling. Humans were considered fast-paced and sexually active, so this newcomer would make for an interesting anomaly for his fieldwork. "Perhaps he's part-cyborg..."

The heavily-armored human walked into the game room. Sol followed, hopefully unnoticed. "Sa vissalir... ne p'sat... fyra k'em..." he said aloud, as he jotted the notes down in his notepad. Leaning inauspiciously against the wall behind, he continued his notes. A large crowd of people had gathered around a player. They were gambling. The cyborg from the door was there, watching as well. She hadn't noticed him yet.

For a moment, he simply watched them throng around. His interest in them was waning. As he stood straight to leave, the ceiling collapsed.

"Ma'ar Sh*llir!" shouted Sol, as the corpse fell through the "diamonds". It was thoroughly dead. The body was lacerated and worse. It looked like someone had been pounding it with a hammer.

As Sol stared, out of the corner of his eye he saw the odd one fly up...

"You aren't escaping that easily!"

Luckily, the elevator was operational. It could take him straight to the Champagne Rooms. If he ran, he might get there before the cyber knight had the chance. He only prayed she hadn't noticed it was there. It was a glass tube with a platform on each Deck. The platforms were constantly moving upwards until they reached the top, at which point they curved and went back down again. Some people placed bets on who could manage to survive one whole lap of the elevator without breaking their necks.

A platform was approaching. In a second, Sol would step on and be whisked to the Champagne Rooms. Hopefully, that cyborg woman hadn't seen him.

As everyone was apparently taking an interest into the assailant that seemed to be still upstairs- as a man flew up there, with some sort of energy bladed weapon weilded, who was wearing a teeming amount of armor. At least, he thought it was armor, because he hadn't seen any cyborgs without synthetic skin; if you could afford cybernetics, you could afford synthetic skin.

Seeing a man run for the elevator he had taken up to the game room, Jolon moved towards it just as quickly. Meanwhile, his drones went seperate ways- one floating along behind him after the elevator, while the other floated up through the hole created in the ceiling of the game room.

Silently, Jolon boarded the elevator, trying to fit comfortably with his drone and the other man, and hoping they wouldn't have to talk. He hated having to explain how he communicated with other's for the first time, so he would rather it have just remained silent. As soon as they were on, the drone still with him began a feed linked into Jolon's mind, that showed him what was going on upstairs, due to a wireless link between the three.

Although he now had two fields of vision, another appeared, strangely enough, and he saw a dank room, with a single, antique lightbulb swinging lightly. Shadows were thrown about the room, and light somehow seemed to stream into the elevator and the room where combat was beginning to occur between a large metallic beast and the apparent murderer. Sparks were flying about, only adding to the light that he saw in his personally created reality within the confines of the elevator. Are we going to go up? he thought to himself, not sure if they already were (as they easily could have been and he wouldn't have known it) travelling towards the champagne room.

What were these people doing here!

"Get out!" He yelled. But he didn't. Thta was weird. He'd analyze it later.

Meanwhile he got up from the table, cracked his neck, and went back in. All Hell was slowly breaking loose and he wanted a part of it.
He slashed, jabbed, and rammed. It all happened so fast, but he knew what he was doing.

There. Killed. Safe. Good. Done.
But still slashing, and getting up! More corpses were thrown like ragdolls through the walls. What was this, like an old video game? Did he need all 3 lives killed?

Finally it was done. The Golem was dead with a last slash, beheaded. Its monstrous maw crashed to the ground meters away, still sparking.

As was his habit, Rex signed his name in the ground with his plasma sword.

"Alright, you can come out now! But the game's not over yet! The Golem runs with a pack, and he wouldn't be smart enough to get in here onm his own. Ya hearin' me?"
But he didn't really say it. Just thi=ought it. He couldn't say it. Rex relised too late that he was a self imposed pathological mute.

Rex wanted to repsond. He wanted to brag about his kill as he always did. This clearly wasn't even a human. What was happening to him?? He REALLY needed a drink. He couldn't speak! The words were burning into his head, he could see them spelled out right before his eyes, but he just couldn't verbalize them. He just couldn't. He was getting worse; he shouldn't have let things escalade this far. He needed to throw up.

But there were probably a few more monsters. Rex toook one last look at the Chapagne room, then at his signature in the floor, and then at the corridor as he flew off again.

Holding up his plasma rapier for light, Rex cautiously journeyed down the dark corridor, enveloped in shadows. He knew the Golem would have been unleashed woth the rest of his pack of three.

FIVE LIFE SIGNS!!!

Impact!

B*llocks.

These monsters were going to take over the ship!

His interest quickly waned as one of his drones alerted him to something. He smiled pleasantly, before walking forwards, out of the elevator. Then, above the hole that had been made in the floor, his drones rejoined his sides, but were quickly descending down towards his feet. With careful grace, he stepped on one, before his other foot extended to the flat, smooth surface of the other. Next, he was floating down the hole, standing atop two balances, that seemed to be made of gold.

Quite the sight. He knew it was, too, so once he made it down to the floor, he immediately made them move again, so he could jump off as soon as possible. The floor was still littered with glass and 'daimonds' on the second floor, which blocked off most of the games, but he saw that the bar was relatively clear. Except his boss was there.

"Good evening," he thought, directed only at the man at the bar. Requiem, we called him, but he knew his name was Riku Murakuma. He wondered if they had any missions available that meant they would be flying; he loved flying. Sometimes, he enjoyed it when the ship got attacked- it gave him a chance to get out. With his neverending smile still stuck on his face, the statue of a man took a seat beside Riku at the bar, while the drones again flanked their stone creator. "What brings you here, sir?"

He was still only directing his thoughts at Riku, and it was something he loved to do. He was staring forward, and noone even had to know that Jolon had said a word. Of course, he couldn't, and he most likely never would, but it was fun to make other people look crazy. For instance, on the dance floor, there was a girl dancing, and she was fairly good. In her head, Jolon projected, I like to move it, move it, I like to move it, move it, I like to-. Hopefully, she would burst out and yell "MOVE IT!" He had seen it happen before, and it had made his week.