Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Howling Metal | Open to the Iron Empire and Allies

(OOC: This is to serve as FN-1313's rather explosive introduction to the Iron Empire)

First Order Space

The cyborg trooper could feel his heart beating rapidly, even behind all of his armor. He felt like he had finally woken up to the years of mistreatment he hand undergone. Raised from childhood with nothing more than a regimented lifestyle and an operating number in place of his name. No loving feel of a parent, just the cold disciplinarian hand of his instructors. Blown half to hell, and rebuilt. Poked, prodded, tested, mangled. Imprisoned within the same monstrous shell that kept him alive. All the while the Moffs sat in their cushioned perches, and the damned knights and their secretive, mystic sorcery served in tandem. All the while troopers like himself risked their lives for the military ambitions of the Supreme Leader. He was defecting from those that had made him a monster.

He had stolen a Lambda class shuttle from where he was recently stationed. He was just out into the orbit of the planet. Two TIEs were now on his tail, demanding he return. He refused to comply, and fighters began firing at him. The old shuttle could maneuver well, just long enough to punch into random coordinates out of First Order territory. Right before the jump, one of the TIEs managed to clip one of his wings. Nevertheless he punched the hyperdrive, zipping into the blue tunnel. Warning sounds were screeching. It only felt like a few minutes before he slipped back into realspace.


Unknown to him, the random coordinates placed him over the planet of Ilum. The damage to the wing was enough to cause the craft to destabilize and hurl towards the surface. He pulled up as much as he could to slow his descent. The injured wing broke in reentry into the planet. He was slow enough where he was not burning up in the atmosphere, but it was not enough to stop a crash landing. Upon impact, the cyborg stormtrooper blacked out, likely knocked unconscious from the sheer kinetic force.

He awoke an unknown time later. Alarms were going off. He could feel a draft upon his face. A piece of his helmet’s faceplate had broken off. His left cybernetic arm was exposed some. Yet, the worst of it was that the impact had damaged parts of his suit’s life support system. Nothing​ fatal as of yet, but he knew he was on borrowed time unless placed into some sort of stasis or bacta tank. He unlatched himself from the pilot's seat, and pressed a couple buttons. The ship would send out a generalized distress signal. Due the shuttle’s failing power, he could only broadcast it within the planet's range. Now it was up to fate. He slumped against the panel, sliding to the floor, and closed his eyes. He breathed slow and steady to preserve energy and what he could on his suit. It was up to someone to hear him now. He felt the frigid air of the frozen world start to seep in to the damaged shuttle, his mechanical breaths spewing forth fogged air from the mouth piece. It was now either life by discovery, or death in the wintry cold.
How fortunate for Caelag, she'd come to greet her 32 soldiers under her command, just to be told she was needed to investigate a general distress beacon on the planet. It was, amusing honestly, how quickly she was put into use. Nary enough time to learn all her troops' names and already the platoon was riding towards the signal together, holding firmly to their bikes as they approached the lambada class shuttle.

The Miraluka could immediately tell, since she wasn't wearing a full helmet but rather basic winter coverings, that there was something alive on the crashed transport, and had the soldiers spread out among the perimeter, while she herself swapped out her sniper rifle for the standard blaster of the IE. Double checking that it was loaded, she took one of the fireteams closer, her and two others, while the rest setup a defensive line behind her, just in case.

There was no such thing as too cautious, after all.

She forced the door open, an easy task as it was broken somewhat already, and slipped inside with the two others. She was the first to spot the trooper, slumped as he was. His force signature was evident against the mechanical displays, and it was something of a surprise to her to see the man still living. This was hardly the usual crash, and from the markings it was clear who originally owned the ship, or even still owned it (as she was unsure to the individual's allegiance). Times like these, she was grateful for the eyesight of her companions, able to relay the information to her.

She moved over, aiming the blaster rifle down at the figure. "Give me a reason not to fire."

[member="Caelag Vass"]

The cybernetic trooper heard the sound of people walking into his downed shuttle. He opened up his eyes and found himself looking down the barrel of a blaster. He raised up his arms to the best of his ability, and did so slowly as to not elicit a negative response from his apparent rescuers.

“Designation FN-1313. I am unarmed. Multiple cybernetic systems damaged. Internal life support systems critical, but not fatal. I seek asylum, and will cooperate. I have defected from the First Order. What system am I in?”

His voice was modulated to a deeper, synthesized voice, sounding like some iinflection imperial Basic. Yet, he spoke the truth. He had no weapons aboard the shuttle. It was also obvious that he was truthful about his cybernetic condition. His breaths were coming out in rhythmic, mechanical rasps that sounded like something​ in the system was damaged. He gave a pained groan as his exposed prosthetic arm sparked before failing and slumping to his side, twitching some. He hoped that his discoverers would take his word, knowing that he was at their mercy.
Caelag would narrow her eyes if she had any, this was a strange circumstance to say the least. However, she didn't feel any malice, or any reason to be concerned, despite how obviously uncomfortable the fireteam she'd brought aboard the shuttle were. She kept her weapon leveled at the trooper on the ground for several long moments, letting the man speak and malfunction even more.

"Classified. You'll be told where you are once we can confirm your story. Corporal, call in a medical transport for our prisoner, and finish securing the shuttle. I'll keep an eye on him." The joke was unintentional, of course. But it still elicited a smile and muffled chuckle from one of the privates following the Corporal out of the cockpit.

Caelag kept her weapon aimed at the trooper, before sitting down in the remains of one of the chairs. She slowly moved it so her sniper rifle, the powerful X-52, was leveled right at his head. "This is an X-52 Wraith Infiltrator. One wrong move and your entire head will be reduced to slag in moments. Do you understand?"

[member="Caelag Vass"]

The former Stormtrooper could now see the closeness of the barrel now extremely close to his face. He took a couple of raspy breaths before giving a nod of affirmation to her statement.

“Yes, ma’am.” He addressed her, definitely sounding like a military trained man when he did.

He kept still, part for self preservation, part for making sure that he did not move wrongly and damage his vital systems further. He studied the face of the woman that appeared be the commanding officer of the group that discovered him. He looked more specifically at where eyes would have been on a human, seeing only some sort of bandages or some sort of covering normally reserved for the blind. He also analyzed her joke to her men as they sent about their duties.

“Miraluka. Interesting. Haven't seen one of you in years.” He mused, “And by no means take this talking as a way to rile you up. I seem to have suffered some sort of concussive episode upon.... landing. I recall blacking out, but I don't want to take chances.”

He once again felt the cool air lap into the compartment of the shuttle. He took note of that, hoping it would help determine his location some. It was a rather crisp feeling against his exposed skin. Too cold to be a temperate planet in any sense of the phrase. Arctic world of some sort. Hoth? Csilia? Ilum? Could be any number of frozen worlds that dotted the expansive map of the Galaxy. He closed his eyes once more, to conserve his energy.

“....Thank you. Odd thing for a prisoner to speak, but in this situation, I would rather live as a prisoner to.... Whomever you represent...Than die as a slave to the First Order.”
If he had been trying to rile her up he'd have been doing a poor job of it. Everything from how calmly she sat and how she spoke betrayed her as a professional soldier, someone with plenty of experience doing this song and dance. Deserters weren't high on her list of favorite people, but in some respects she supposed she was one herself. Hardly in a position to judge [member="FN-1313"] on that front, clearly. Yet there was the problem of his former allegiance, the First Order were nothing if not efficient. Judging by his plethora of cybernetics, she doubted he would so easily be left free...

"We'll seen soon enough how things go. For now it's just you and me, and a platoon of troops outside this shuttle while we wait for a medical transport. In the mean time, we have plenty of opportunity to talk, now don't we? That'll keep you awake. Especially when I have to ask if you are aware of any tracking devices installed on you. I doubt if they were so keen to keep you alive they'd be so willing to risk you defecting without knowing where you went. Normally I'd just pass you through a magnetic field until we were satisfied with anything on you being disabled, but in your case I don't think that's an option is it?"
Fortunately for [member="FN-1313"], the medical transport wasn't far off. Bato Golden looked towards the front of the transport, where the two actual medics sat. Due to needing to research an upcoming role, he had the privilege of tagging along with them, in exchange for offering them a role as extras. "So, you guys get many calls all the way out here?"

The medic in the pilot's seat just shrugged, leaving his partner to interpret. "No, not really. Most people don't wander all the way out here, so it's usually about a call a week."

"Oh, really?" Bato leaned closer, or as close as he could without kissing the gurney that hovered in front of him. "I would have guessed there'd be wildlife problems, or hikers, or, I dunno, something."

"Are you serious? No one hikes in this weather." The medic scoffed. The transport pulled up at the location of the standoff, and Bato's eyes widened at the sight of all the soldiers. The two medical technicians rushed outside and approached [member="FN-1313"] to perform triage, while the actor sheepishly approached the group of soldiers, ending up a few paces behind [member="Caelag Vass"].

Bato pulled his sunglasses from out of his pocket and put them on as casually as he could manage. "So... what happened here?"
[member="Bato Golden"] | [member="Caelag Vass"]

The cybernetic Stormtrooper looked over at the Miraluka with a gun to his head. He gave a dry chuckle at her question before starting his answer to her.

“No. There are no tracking devices on me. I'm an experiment, one of many. I'm likely not the only one of my kind. I was among the first of the Order’s attempts to rebuild combat veterans who were crippled in some condition. Lost my left limbs in a firebombing on my outfit about five years in the plastoid. They took the other two so that I would have equalized performance.”

He paused a moment to look at his malfunctioning hand before looking back at her.

“My generation of stormtroopers were taken from our parents, raised by drill instructors and tacticians to be soldiers of war. Never to question an order. Add in a need for specialized environments to live without, and they had a leash on me tight. No need for s tracking device. But, I finally realized, after all the indoctrination and mangling of my body into....This. They stole everything from me. I took a stand, and this is where it left me.”

He heard the approach of the medical team, who began to question his condition post crash. While being mindful of the blaster pointed at him, he turned to address them.

“One cybernetic arm is malfunctioning. Internalized life support critically damaged, but not fatal.” He sounded calm about the ordeal, “Likelihood of concussion from impact. Recommend removal of suit and transfer into thermal regulated stasis or bacta tank. Will remove malfunctioning limb. I am even cooperative in detaching all limbs for ease of transport and show submission to regional authority.”

He glanced a little beyond the medical team, noticing a man there who seemed to be rather lost. He felt like he almost recognized him.

“Why is there a Holofilm actor here?"
Ah, perfect. An actor. At least the medical team proceeding to move [member="FN-1313"] out onto the gurney to transport him seemed legitimate enough. Caelag lowered her weapon, flicking the safety on as she stood up. The actor, if she was to trust what the trooper said, was just off to her right behind her. Whoever [member="Bato Golden"] was, they at least knew to keep their distance from her. She ran a thumb down her chin as she considered what was going on at the moment, they had to take FN to a safe enough medical location, and he needed to be kept alive for interrogation later.

Sure she realized he might be telling the truth, but it was just as likely he was a good liar. The force was weaker around him because of how much of his body was non-organic, which made seeing him more difficult and feeling the force through him even harder. Granted, she wasn't particularly strong in the force (by training, anyways), but she was sensitive to the flow.

She turned to the medical team and offered a salute. "Lieutenant Vass. Take the stormtrooper to the closest suitable medical facility. I'll have one of my squads run escort while we finish up here. And you, stormtrooper, I don't trust you. If you give any of my men reason to think you're a threat... I imagine you can fill out the rest." She gave a firm nod, and looked over at the actor Bato.

"I don't suppose you'll stick around to help check the shuttle for anything suspicious will you? Or are you intending to ride with the medical team?"
At the sound of [member="FN-1313"]'s question, Bato leaned out from behind [member="Caelag Vass"] to greet him with a movie star's smile. "Oh, hey. I was tagging along with the medical team, don't mind me." In spite of himself, Bato's eyes drifted downwards to the stormtrooper's mangled cybernetic arm. The actor winced, but his grimace quickly softened into a comforting smile. "Don't worry pal, I've been riding around with those medics all day. They're top notch, you'll be alright."

With the wounded man being attended to, Bato's eyes finally started scanning their surroundings. To his surprise, there was an alarming amount of fancy blaster rifles being pointed around, the kind that tended to put very large holes in the things they pointed at. He was relieved when the Miralukan woman lowered her rifle, though his face would never show it. Externally, he was calm and at ease as ever.

Then the woman asked him a question.

It took him a few seconds to realize she was talking to him, and not one of the soldiers. "Oh, huh, me?" Bato glanced back at the medical transport, where it was safe and warm. He could ride back to the hospital, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Bato shrugged. "Yeah, sure, let's check it. Could be fun."
[member="Bato Golden"] | [member="Caelag Vass"]

FN-1313 could feel himself being lifted up on the gurney and being taken to the medical transport. Once there, he could still feel blasters trained on him. He carefully moved his functional arm, and moved it to his malfunctioning arm. He pressed the release trigger on it, disconnecting it from his body. He did the same to both of his legs, leaving his right arm as the only functioning limb. He carefully instructed the med team on how to remove his remaining armor.

He closed his eyes as the medical officers pressed the release buttons on the armor, little by little removing the pieces. As soon as they removed his helmet, he began to gasp for air, to which the response was a covering with a rebreather mask. He was stripped down to a set of black briefs that served as the only form of dignity covering he had. The team quickly disengaged his remaining arm and moved him into a nearby bacta tank, already filled halfway with fluid. He felt himself float as he was placed in. He kept his eyes shut until he got used to the liquid.

The appearance of the man was quite different outside of the armor. He was youthful, looking barely in his 30s. His skin was disfigured across the board, most of it looking like healed burns. Other scars were precise and looking surgical in their patterns. Metal rivets dotted along his spine, a couple on his torso, and all four nubs of where his limbs should be. All connective points to his armor. He skin was also rather pale for a human, a likely side affect of being cooped inside of the suit for hours on end, never receiving sunlight or the resulting vitamin production.

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom