Void Siege
Toral saw it first, a glaring lightning blue above the smouldering pile of debris superheated by the Hellbore rounds that had torn the structure apart. The Tin Man, eyes moving from side to side scanning its surroundings, hauled its bulk over the wreck, clamping and crushing as it progressed. Toral crouched silently behind a wall some distance away, her peripherals flashing with a data feed. She knew it was impossible to hide. She didn't need her display to tell her the Tin Man's sensors had detected her long before she had reached the area where the fight had been raging. When the mechanical monster moved into effective range, its cannon would punch a hole straight through the wall and her exoskeleton. However, crouching behind this stone and metal seemed as natural as breathing. Around her, other Convicts moved into view, darting in and out of doorways and the shadows created by the infernos of burning wreckage, running up the walls and leaping to and fro across the towering structures. She didn't know who they were or the crimes they had committed to end up in their mobile prisons. However, like her, they were now involuntarily incorporated into the Prime Link. This Confederation breakaway faction still held on to the hope of the Primarshal uprising. For a moment, she allowed her mind to wander. How long had it been? A few days must have passed since she and the others had been dropped headfirst into the chaotic mess that was the ruins of the Gragon Line.
Soon, self-driving cars will be everywhere. But did you know there are varying degrees of automation?
Level 3
Level 1
Level 4
With everything that had happened to her, she had completely overlooked the magnitude of where she was. Everyone knew the story of this ill-fated megastructure. This great bastion of resistance had been ordained the end of the Asylumists, protector of Icinir and the Coalition heartland. Now, it had been reduced to a cauldron of battle, unfinished and unable to stop the waves spilling over it decades before. It had become a target for scavengers, Blood Engines and those who wanted a fortified outpost to launch assaults into Icinir. All across its length, Confederation, Drakkaran and Asylumists fought to claim the massive battlements, and she had been deployed to this end. All too suddenly, she snapped back to reality as she began to feel disorientated, the internal systems of her suit reminding her that she had a task to accomplish. If she waited any longer, the suit would begin taking measures to reinvigorate her and if she refused, kill her. When the Prime Link captured her and the others, she foolishly believed that they would free them from their fate. Instead, they had simply taken control of the suits and made themselves the masters, replacing the Council's tyranny with their own.
Soon, self-driving cars will be everywhere. But did you know there are varying degrees of automation?
Level 3
Level 1
Level 4
Toral began to move through the ruins, in and out of the twisted mechanisms and conveyors that made up this industrial section of the Gragon line that had now been reduced to scattered ruins filled with Host. Every step she made was hindered by grotesque forms and creatures of nightmare that charged towards her as she advanced. The targeting systems on her visor worked overtime and directed each round of her rifle to its mark. The Host creatures flew apart as the Hellbore rounds tore through them, the sizzling pieces of flesh collapsing and crawling away or burning to ash. Although the rifle had little recoil, the noise and flash were immense and round after round ripped through the ruins. Suddenly, her suit began to relay the proximity warning of the Tin Man. She realised she was now in range as she entered a small clearing in the section.
Soon, self-driving cars will be everywhere. But did you know there are varying degrees of automation?
Level 3
Level 1
Level 4
The Tin Man's cannon roared and fired. The shielding on Toral's suit whipped upwards in an attempt to deflect the incoming shot, briefly pushing against the force, but she was not the target. Another Convict had emerged to her side, and the cannon blast smashed into the hapless target's shield. It buckled and shattered under the direct hit. The convict was sent flying backwards with a massive hole punched through their torso, sending their body, now in two pieces, spinning as they landed. Toral raised her rifle and fired. The shot was good, but the Tin Man's shield dispersed the shot with ease. Toral lurched back, firing again to no avail as the Tin Man's cannon once again roared. Toral was bashed sideways when the shot was fired and fell violently to the floor. The shot had cut a hole in the side of her helm, and her head was exposed, but she was still alive. At her feet, the remains of the dead convict, now a Host creature, began hacking at her suit. She aimed and fired, the shot finishing off the corpse of her former comrade. At that moment, another shot from the Tin Man flashed overhead. More Convicts had arrived, and their rifles were quick to respond. Toral watched as the Tin Man's shields were overwhelmed, dropping suddenly as it began to take the incoming shots. As it collapsed, its systems sparking and whipping lightning, it was able to let another shot loose and disintegrate the upper torso of an attacker. Still, as more shots rained in, its systems dulled and finally stopped, crumpling into a melting slag mound.
Soon, self-driving cars will be everywhere. But did you know there are varying degrees of automation?
Level 3
Level 1
Level 4
Toral lay silently. The systems of her suit dulled and flashed as they began to fail. The other Convicts walked by, sending shots in all directions, clearing the incoming Host as they moved forward and soon all was still. Toral stared blankly at the display for what felt like an eternity, waiting for some indication it was still functioning, but there was nothing. Slowly, she moved her hand towards the mechanism that kept her locked inside the suit. Any attempt at interfering with the mechanism would result in her death. Yet, there was no warning, no indication the suit was working. Eventually, she grasped it and, in one swift movement, tore it away. There was no reaction. Her suit and its monitoring systems were dead. She was free. Slowly, she crawled from the motionless shell, her lungs burning as she inhaled the fumes in the air. She looked across at the remains of the Tin Man. Tin Men of the Confederation were rarely alone, deployed in mass to sweep areas. Still, this one was clearly marked with the symbols of the Flensing Chorus.
Soon, self-driving cars will be everywhere. But did you know there are varying degrees of automation?
Level 3
Level 1
Level 4
Although she knew little about them, there had been a few mentions within Magamanon when she had been in training in her youth. She had heard that they were a small faction of technology hoarders headed by a race that could talk to machines. As the Council had taken control of the Coaltiton and begun to create new robotic creations, the Chorus sought to gain as much of it as possible, bolstering their ranks with Tin Men and other mechanised soldiers. Perhaps it was disorientation, exhilaration or the near-death experience that had overcome her. Still, for whatever reason, she had not thought about where she was. She may have been more careful and noticed the Host now encircling her if she had. All too late, she saw them crawling up the walls and along the floor. As fast as she could, she leapt back for her rifle, which was also inactive.
Soon, self-driving cars will be everywhere. But did you know there are varying degrees of automation?
Level 3
Level 1
Level 4
The Council had gone to great lengths to try and keep their technology safe, and they would never trust criminals with their weapons. And so, linked directly into the suit without power, the rifle was useless. At that moment, she realised the Irony. The device that lay at her feet had been designed as a punishment, a tool to force her to fight and possibly die, removing any freedom of choice and condemning those within to an existence of servitude. Now she had no way to use the rifle that kept the Host at bay, no shield to keep them from tearing into her flesh and no way to call for help. This device of torture, imprisonment and forced servitude was the only thing keeping her alive. As the Host came for her, she grabbed the only weapon not connected to the Convict suit, the shockwave grenade belt. She stopped suddenly and smiled to herself. She held in her hand the only real choice she had been able to make since being arrested, and a calmness washed over her as she contemplated her choice. Freedom.