Author's note:
You know, in retrospect, I probably should have made sure this chapter was actually 100% completely done and dusted before getting back to my regular posting schedule again. The sheer amount of discarded material and rewrites it's been through is ridiculous, and it's a small miracle I managed to get it done on time at all. But I think I can safely say that the end result is about the best balance I can find between covering all the plot points I feel are needed and keeping the story pace from bogging down. Here's hoping you'll agree.
I'm always trying to improve as a writer, so please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome, flamers are not. If you enjoy this story, please feel free to check out the other stories on my account should you wish.
- RevenantReaper337
Disclaimer:
Ratchet & Clank, associated characters, organisations, and intellectual properties belong to Insomniac Games. All other real world organisations and products belong to their respective governments, companies, etc. Original characters, creatures, weapons, etc. belong to me. Cover art belongs to Nekolover3 and is used with her kind permission.
'Thoughts'
Flashbacks
"Speech"
Chapter 32:
Best Laid Plans
Thugs-4-Less Maximum Security Prison Vessel 'Tartarus', Aranos
Bogon Galaxy
G2.17.085 Galactic calendar
10:23am local time
Deep within the converted prison ship's bowels, the doors of a repurposed cargo elevator smoothly opened to reveal a pair of burly guards dragging a lombax between them who was clearly worse for wear; his form slumped and fading bruises evident upon his face in spite of the concealing fur. Stepping off and into the relatively narrow corridor beyond, the group made their way past a number of obvious cameras and dormant automated turrets until reaching a security checkpoint manned by a half asleep thug; boots propped up upon the desk and clearly bored out of his mind.
Upon catching sight of them however, he soon jolted upright and almost fell off the swivel chair in his rush to look busy, before finally managing to sit upright with an air of forced alertness that honestly wasn't fooling anyone. One of the escorting guards muttered something unflattering under his breath as they approached the checkpoint, while the other exchanged a few harsh words with their idle colleague as he checked the prisoner transfer details on his desktop monitor, before finally waving them through to the heavy security door leading to the ultra-max wing just beyond.
Had the guards not been so preoccupied with dumping their prisoner and getting back to their assigned posts, they might have noticed that the lombax was a lot more lucid than he appeared in spite of being used as a punching bag on the elevator ride down. Cunning, calculating emerald eyes had been noting every feature and filing away any scrap of information that might lead to an escape attempt while keeping his intentions hidden. Such as the eight digit door code and card key used to activate the security door and the one just beyond for example; similar to the one he had palmed from one of his jailors when they were previously occupied with roughing him up for some semblance of 'revenge'.
Not that there was much to work with once they were inside the second set of armoured blast doors; the cramped conditions and numerous open-faced cells protected by individual laser grids lining either side not looking much different than those they had previously passed by on Crudelis' little 'tour'. The difference however was marked increase in recessed ceiling based turrets and security cameras everywhere he looked; no doubt due to this supposedly being one of the most secured locations on this ship, and that the few residents he had briefly glimpsed on the way past were likely too valuable and dangerous for Thugs-4-Less to risk getting loose.
It was into one such cell bordering upon a small T-junction within that Ratchet was bodily tossed without a care, slamming face down on to the unforgiving metal-plated floor and causing his already aching ribs to flair up in pain once again. Chuckling darkly to themselves at the lombax's pained groans, one of the guards swiftly reactivated the cell's laser grid while the other rapped on a surrounding wall with his baton and a sneering tone in his voice. "Have fun with your little cell mate, fur bag. We'll be back for you both later."
The pair stalked off shortly thereafter and soon disappeared around a corner out of sight, leaving Ratchet to prop himself back up into a sitting position and massage his aching ribs with a grimace. It was then however that he became aware of someone watching him from very close by, head snapping up and eyes widening as he caught sight of an all too familiar, albeit somewhat scuffed up silver robot staring down at him with concern from atop a distinctly uncomfortable looking fold down bench. "Oh my... Ratchet, is that you?"
"Clank! You're okay!"
The little robot soon found himself enveloped in a tight hug as Ratchet spun him around with a triumphant cry, having leapt up from the cold metal floor with surprising vigour given his prior injuries and constantly stabbing pains in his chest. It did mean he couldn't keep it up for long however and had soon flopped down on the cell's solitary bench with a wince of discomfort, putting Clank down next to him and tiredly leaning back against the wall. Such an act had clearly taken its toll, and upon analyzing his friend's condition with widening optics, Clank couldn't help but wonder just what he had gone through before arriving at their shared cell; dark memories surfacing of his time spent at the mercy of Angela's less than benevolent masked thief persona.
"I am perfectly functional and have only sustained slight cosmetic damage during our capture," he dismissed while giving the lombax a worried look. "You however appear to have sustained severe bruising and several injuries consistent with blunt force trauma."
"Yeah, well, turns out these guys really don't like us. Who'd of thought, huh?" Ratchet replied with a wry grin, before a twinge of chest pains made him wince. "You, uh... wouldn't happen to have any Nanotech left on you, would you pal?"
Clank merely shook his helm. "I am afraid not, or at least none I am able to access. Thugs-4-Less appear to have somehow suppressed or disabled a large number of my operational functions, including access to my personal storage unit."
"So, no Nanotech then. Great," Ratchet sighed. "Guess I'll just have to be careful till we can get out of here and find some. Speaking of which..."
"I am sorry, Ratchet," Clank replied with a resigned look as his friend trailed off leadingly. "Having thoroughly analysed our surroundings over the past eight hours, I am afraid that I must conclude there to be absolutely no means of escape."
As if to spite him, a sudden hollow noise of metal on metal drew the pair's attention to a small, floor level grille set around mid way up the cell. There was a brief moment of silence before what sounded like an electric screwdriver started up from the other side, swiftly followed by tinkling metal and the entire grille collapsing backwards into what appeared to be a narrow ventilation duct with a reverberating clang.
"...Except for that," Clank corrected himself as the diminutive form of what looked like a pink and distinctly feminine infobot poked her head out with wide blue optics darting around before finally locking on to him with an upraised digit held to nonexistent lips.
"Hey there, uh, girl," Ratchet managed with a strained smile as he carefully pushed himself off the bench and crouched down nearby with a wince, causing her to dart back a few inches and eye the lombax semi-warily. "You wouldn't happen to know another way out of here by any chance, would you? We've got places to be, and I kinda doubt I'd fit through there."
The little infobot briefly tilted its helm to one side in thought before giving the lombax a brief nod; reaching behind her back and retrieving what appeared to be a small earpiece. Taking it from her patiently outstretched servo with a puzzled frown, Ratchet gave it a once over for any potential traps or otherwise; not about to stick an unfamiliar bit of tech into any part of his anatomy without making sure it was safe first.
Dealing with the Personal Hygienator and its... unfortunate defects just once was more than enough to impart that particular lesson.
Finding nothing obviously wrong and with the infobot still watching patiently from where she was lurking halfway out of the ventilation duct, Ratchet merely shrugged before slipping the earpiece into place; making sure it was snug and switched on before raising a brow. "Thanks, I guess. But, uh, why give me this?"
"Because I asked her to, fuzz ball," came a slightly distorted, but all too familiar and thoroughly welcome voice from the other side of an open communications link. "And damn is it good to hear your voice again."
"Ellen..." the lombax breathed out with a tone that was equal parts relief and worry; eyes widening and shoulders slumping in relief. "Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you safe?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm fine," she replied with a slight grunt of effort before continuing. "Or as much as I can be anyway, given how bloody narrow the ventilation system is. I was more worried about Samus getting to you and Clank in time before that psycho bitch of a warden running this place did. He is with you, isn't he?"
Giving a self depreciating chuckle, Ratchet couldn't help but smile and shake his head as he glanced over to where the two much smaller robots present were staring up at him in curiosity. "Samus, huh?" Getting a timid nod and wave from the little pink infobot, he focused back on the conversation at hand. "And yeah, he is. We're kind of stuck in the ultra-max wing right now though, and I don't think I'm getting out the same way your friend got in."
"Probably not, but don't worry, I've got a plan. I'll need to borrow Clank to make it work though."
"I gotcha babe."
Nodding in spite of himself, the lombax turned towards where Clank was about to relay what Ellen had said only to be forestalled by a raised servo and faint smile on his friend's part. "I believe we can take it from here. Samus has been most helpful in explaining the situation to me, and our intended task is a relatively simple one. We will be back shortly."
Clank didn't seem to notice the slight widening of Samus' brilliant blue optics at the perceived praise, or the way she hovered bashfully at his side while the interlocked digits of her servos fidgeted nervously. Ratchet however did, and couldn't help but tease them with a grin as the pair began to make their way inside the ventilation system to who knows where. "Hey, just make sure you and your girlfriend don't stop for anything along the way."
A clearly flustered Samus promptly disappeared inside the open duct with what almost sounded like a slight squeak in spite of having no vocal capacity, while Clank merely gave the lombax an odd look before following suit. Forcing himself back up to his feet before slumping back down on the solid bench once more, Ratchet led out a faint sigh; focusing his attention back on the surrounding area in case the guards showed up again and asking the obvious question. "So, what now?"
{()}
"Now?" Ellen echoed back; pausing momentarily as she tried to squeeze her body around a particularly narrow corner in the section of the ventilation system she was traversing once again. "Now we wait until everyone's in position before going ahead. Then we kill the power, get you out, and fight our way through a couple hundred angry mercs before taking our ships back and getting the hell out of here."
"That simple, huh?" Ratchet mused with an audible smirk before his voice perked up. "Wait, they've got our ships here too?"
"Unfortunately, yeah," she sighed. "The thugs impounded them both back on Boldan, probably to stop me taking off after you. Not sure why they were brought here though..."
"No idea, babe, but I'll take what breaks we can get. Any idea what happened to my gear?"
"They probably shoved it in the armoury when they took you in, I'm heading there now," Ellen replied; having finally cleared the stupidly angled corner and continued on along a much more spacious section of ducting. "Failing that, I'll just grab anything not nailed down. They're bound to have- Hold on..."
Her already softened tone quieted further still as Ellen paused above a fairly large and wide grate looking down into the currently occupied men's restroom below, a merc having come through the door at a casual stride and made a beeline for the closest urinal. "There's one right below me. Big guy. "
"Is he armed?"
The sound of the thug's zipper being undone echoed unnaturally loud through the otherwise silent restroom; followed by a brief fumbling and subsequent groan of sweet relief as the sound of cascading water drowned out almost everything else in the immediate area. Given the angle she was at and her more or less unobstructed view of the... rather large cause however...
"Well, he's definitely packing something..."
"Just stay out of sight and keep moving," Ratchet advised; Ellen's suggestive assessment apparently having gone over his head or otherwise ignored given the situation. "You're on your own out there."
It turned out to be some sound advice, since no sooner had Ellen began to crawl forward once again did a thug come bursting through the restroom's door; arms clutching a stomach that was making some rather worrying noises. He almost bowled over the other merc in his haste to reach an unoccupied stall; getting a mouthful of expletives in return as he slammed the door shut, before the room was almost immediately filled with pained groans and sounds of somebody violently vacating their bowels.
"Uh... What was that?" Ratchet asked with a lilting tone; one suggesting that he probably didn't want to know the answer.
Ellen however was far too preoccupied with the scent of death drifting up from below in order to answer; nose wrinkling in disgust before managing to manually seal her helmet and scrub the internal air supply. It was just as well really, since the first thug hadn't even finished his business before a veritable mob tore into the restroom in a desperate frenzy; finding himself caught between the press of bodies as they frantically tried in vain to find an unoccupied toilet before it was too late.
"Trust me, you're better off not knowing," the redhead chuckled darkly; lips split into a feral grin at seeing just how effective her extra added 'flavouring' of the mess hall's menu had proven to be. Certainly enough to keep a good portion of the guard contingent out of action for several hours, and if the biohazard warnings lighting up her helmet from the combined stench rising up from below was anything to go by, probably a whole lot more once it was sufficiently distributed through the oh so helpfully efficient ventilation system. Although that now meant she had to speed things up a little if there was to be any hope of taking advantage before her ruse was discovered and the vents sealed off with Ellen still inside.
"Oh... kay..." Ratchet's voice trailed off over her helmet's internal speakers, sounding more than a little disturbed at her tone.
"Hang tight, fuzz ball, we'll have you out soon," she reassured; continuing to crawl forth as quickly and quietly as she could. "I'll contact you again once I reach the armoury, but right now I need to know where Samus and Clank have gotten to."
"Well, it's not like I'm going anywhere in a hurry," he responded dryly before venting a soft sigh. "Good luck, babe, and stay safe."
With that, Ellen terminated her side of the link before attempting to reconnect to Samus, long seconds ticking by as she negotiated yet another turn in the ship's veritable labyrinth of cramped, confined ducting. Hopefully she and Clank would be virtually on top of their own objective by now, especially since it was the lynchpin of this whole rescue mission, and they were all on a very tight schedule if there was to be any chance in hell of pulling it off. But Ellen was confident that their combined intellect and inherent knowledge of otherwise unfamiliar systems would prove to be more than capable of getting the job done. That is, just so long as there were no further distractions along the way...
{()}
Within yet another nondescript ventilation shaft some two decks above and almost entirely on the opposite side of the ship, the faint sound of whirring servos and metal on metal preceded Clank's every step as he continued to jog down its length with Samus in tow; the light pink infobot staying practically glued to his rear all the while. Keeping pace just behind and to his left, she was still riding a giddy, gleeful high at actually being in the presence of arguably one of, if not the most, famous robots in the entire Solana galaxy, and her own personal hero. One whose humble origins and subsequent feats were an inspiration to those who wished to rise above their station; that just because you were small, didn't mean you couldn't be something... more.
The fact that he had a nice aft as well had nothing at all to do with it, of course. Even if her optics were constantly drawn there more often than not when she sure he wasn't looking, or otherwise occupied with the numerous hazards along their route. But it was his kindly manner and polite thoughtfulness that had truly endeared him to Samus like no other; treating her - a mere infobot conversion - like an equal, sentient being, rather than a 'defective tool pretending to be alive', as so many detractors claimed of her kind. The sense of understanding and gentle patience in his emerald optics hadn't wavered once since the stuttering, awkward mess that had constituted their first conversation.
If only she could find a way to express just how he made her feel. The way his very presence made every circuit tingle, her very core positively thrum with warmth. The way-
"Samus, please, be more careful." Clank's chiding words brought her crashing back to reality with a start, along with the fact his servo was gently, but firmly, pushing against the front of her chassis.
Were she organic, Samus' breath would have hitched at the sudden but not unwelcome contact; heart beating a mile a minute and cheeks aflame as some primal part of her psyche yearned to see what he would do next, how far he would go. But while she might instead be comprised primarily of metals, plastics, and ceramics, Samus still felt the digital equivalent right down to her base code; the sudden rush of scrambled sensory information causing her heat sinks to overload and cooling fans to kick in. For the robot who was her inspiration, and whom she had long since fallen helm over metaphorical heels for, was actually touching her; those gorgeous emerald green optics gazing back into her own with sincere concern.
"Samus? Are you alright?"
Although to be fair, that might be more down to the fact that she had been far too distracted for her own good; having almost waltzed straight into the spinning blades of an active fan were it not for his extended servo stopping her from mere inches away. Perhaps unsurprisingly given how close she had come to being chopped into confetti, Samus jerked back with a not quite squeak that was equal parts flustered and scared. I'm sorry! So sorry! I was just thinking so hard, that, um..._
"That is quite alright," Clank reassured; taking a step back and giving her some space to calm down. "I too occasionally get distracted by a particularly fascinating conundrum. However, now is a time in which we both require a clear processor and all sensors operational if we are to successfully aid Ellen in freeing Ratchet. Now, which way from here?"
Recognising the out for what it was and sending him a grateful look in return, Samus pointed off to their immediate left and took point, with Clank following shortly thereafter. Using the downloaded map Angela had provided earlier at Ellen's request, the modified infobot steered them back on a circuitous route that bypassed most of the known sensor nets and almost doubled back on itself at one point before ending a in a completely vertical shaft that ran through most of the ship.
But while Clank was unable to scale such an obstacle, even without the distinct lack of convenient hand holds, Samus had no trouble at all. Having a hover type chassis allowed her to simply float towards the top of the shaft in a matter of seconds, or at least it would, were it not for the extra weight she was carrying and subsequent strain upon her thrusters. But given that it was Clank wrapped tightly within her embrace, frames pressed up against one and optics gazing into one another's from up close, Samus was more than happy to oblige. Especially since the slow nature of such a journey meant more time snuggling together, even if Clank seemed somewhat oblivious of the close contact and the way it made her very circuitry flush with excess heat.
All good things have to come to an end however, and upon finding the correct floor to stop off on, Samus reluctantly lowered herself on to the solid metal surround of yet another ventilation shaft so that Clank could safely dismount. She immediately missed the warmth his presence provided in such close proximity, but resisted the sudden urge to glomp him in favour of focusing on the task at hand; delighting in his approving nod and quietly following behind as they pushed on into the ventilation system once again.
It was a caution well observed, since no sooner had the duo rounded a corner when they almost immediately ran into a scaled down laser fence comprised of constantly moving beams; one of several protecting a short, straight stretch that ended at a mesh grille some fifteen feet ahead. It also represented the first such instance of any active defences either had encountered throughout the ventilation system thus far, bar for a few basic temperature sensors that were fairly easy to spoof, and left Clank pondering as to just why exactly this was the case. Or at least, that is, until Samus' words cut off that particular trail of thought.
U-um... Shouldn't we be trying to find a way through?_
Optics shuttering, Clank cleared away any stray processes with a brief shake of his helm before giving her an apologetic look. "Ah, of course. My apologies, Samus, I let my curiosity get the better of me. Shall we?"
{()}
The sub control room located on deck five was a fairly recent addition; little more than a glorified janitor's closet really given the fairly cramped conditions, and made worse by the massive bank of surveillance monitors taking up an entire wall on its own. It did however just so happen to be one of the few truly secure locations aboard the Tartarus, thanks in part to its particularly thick security doors with a triple layered locking system that required a retinal scan, DNA sampling, and voice stress analysis in order to pass through. Not to mention the concealed Gatling laser turrets and ceiling mounted flamethrowers waiting for anyone dumb enough to try and spoof the system, electronically or otherwise.
Although to the guard currently on monitor duty, the single most important feature was the ridiculously comfortable swivel chair that he was currently slouched down in; the back tilted back at a sixty degree angle and boots nonchalantly propped up on the control panel. It wasn't like there was much to do as the hours passed, other than occasionally flip through the cameras monitoring various cell blocks, and even then nothing interesting ever happened. Which was why he was currently engrossed in a tense game of Squirrels Vs. Lawn Ninjas on his personal tablet; only having to pass one more wave in order to face the Nutcracker boss and unlock the golden nunchuks unit for use.
That in turn was also the reason why he didn't notice as the supposedly secure ventilation grille above and behind his head was gently pried open from the inside, leaving it hanging by a single screw as Clank and Samus peered down upon the room with interest. There didn't appear to be any additional defensive measures inside the room that either could detect, much to their relief, but distracted or not, the solitary guard was still right in their way and not liable to leave anytime soon. Which, given that he was dozens of times bigger than both of them combined, simply meant that they were going to have to get a little creative in order to persuade him otherwise.
So it was with a brief nod to one another that Clank carefully dropped down to ground level, Samus following just behind as they quickly darted across the open space and into cover. Peeking out from behind a server cabinet that faintly hummed with power, he gestured towards the precariously balanced cup of coffee sat on top of the main console; the little infobot bobbing her helm in return before slowly creeping out on the lowest thrust setting possible, eventually vanishing beneath the desk and out of sight altogether. Once she was in place, Clank then crept forward so that he was just below the merc's chair before signalling for Samus to initiate her half of their ad hoc plan.
Occupied as the thug on duty was with his game, the first indication he had of anything being amiss was when a half cup of still piping hot coffee was unceremoniously dumped in his lap; Samus quickly ducking back down and out of sight behind the main console as he yelped and flailed about in his chair, before inadvertently falling off altogether. Scrambling hastily to his feet, the man desperately fumbled with his thoroughly scalding cargo pants for a few seconds in an attempt to remove them before apparently deciding otherwise; practically flying out of the control room with all due haste and both hands clenched painfully against his groin. Presumably in search of the nearest restroom and some ice cold water for his... sensitive areas.
More importantly however was that the merc, in his obvious haste, had left the entire system unlocked, unattended, and entirely at their disposal; Samus moving to secure the door while Clank deftly hopped up into the now unoccupied seat with a brief burst from his Heli-Pack before eagerly setting to work. "Ellen, do you read me? We have successfully gained access to the cell block management control room."
"That's good to hear," Ellen's relieved voice crackled through Samus' external speaker via their tentative radio link; a useful leftover from when she was still just a simple mass produced infobot. "How's it looking on your end?"
"The system itself is relatively simple, albeit well designed," Clank replied. Metal digits practically dancing over the holographic keyboard at a blistering pace while Samus looked on over his shoulder in open curiosity. "I have full access to the primary cell block security measures, although I am curious as to why a significant portion appear to be deliberately inactive."
"Maybe they didn't pay their electric bill," Ellen joked. Clank sighing at her quip, although Samus looked thoughtful.
Um, actually, I think she has a point... Maybe some of the security systems are too energy intensive and need to be managed so that they don't overtax the power generators supplying them._
"Quite possibly," Clank mused. "It would certainly explain some of the unusual inconsistencies in power fluctuation throughout the ship. Unfortunately however, the ultra-max wing and its associated security measures appear to be handled separately from this terminal, and is currently under lockdown by direct order of Warden Crudelis."
"Can you get around it?"
He nodded in spite of her being unable to see the gesture; windows flooded with scrolling data collapsing and reappearing on the monitor directly in front of him in rapid succession "I am attempting to do so now, although it may take some time."
"Alright," Ellen sighed. "Just do what you can and keep me posted. I'll check in once I've reached the armoury."
Be careful, Ellen_ Samus added with a hint of worry as her optics roved over the various security camera feeds from numerous wall mounted sub-monitors. There are still a lot of guards on that level and few exits. If they catch you..._
"Don't worry, they won't," the redhead reassured. "And besides, if worst comes to worst, there's always plan B."
Clank winced involuntarily, still not liking the idea Samus had conveyed to him one bit in spite of recognising its potential effectiveness. "I sincerely hope that does not become necessary."
"You and me both," Ellen murmured, "but I guess we'll just have to see. Stay safe you two, and remember; if things go south, drop everything and get to the rendezvous point. Don't stop for anything or anyone."
With that her transmission ceased and the room was plunged into silence once more, save for the faint hum of machinery and Clank's rapid fire typing as he continued to wrestle with the security system. Samus felt antsy and more than a little nervous at what they intended to set in motion, metallic digits wringing against one another as she literally hovered in place just over Clank's shoulder. Simply being close to him made her feel... safer, somehow; as if his very presence was a warm blanket of protection that she could just wrap herself in and not have a care in the world. It was a wonderful feeling that gradually began to calm her down as time passed, thoughts slowly beginning to drift towards her first true organic friend in a long time.
Though they had not known one another for very long, Ellen had left a lasting impression upon her; proving to be passionately driven, almost ruthlessly determined, and incredibly resourceful in equal measure. It was almost frightening in away, and definitely not the kind of person she would ever want to be on the wrong side of given the human's rather vicious streak when enraged. But it was these very same traits and more that made Samus confident in her friend's chances of success. For if there was one thing they both shared then it was the determination to be with the one they loved, regardless of how long it may take or what obstacles might stand between them.
"Oh dear..."
Clank's words quickly jolted her trail of thought back on to present, optics widening at the sheer number of warning messages popping into existence on the central monitor. That can't be good... Should I call Ellen back?_
"Please do," Clank replied with an uncharacteristic grimace. Continuing to type furiously as he waited for the human to pick up on her end, before responding to her terse greeting with perhaps the last words she wanted to hear right about now. "Ellen, it would appear we have a... slight problem..."
{()}
Trooper Alex Maxwell was bored out of his damn skull, wondering not for the first time how the hell he had managed to draw the short straw for perhaps the single worst guard detail going. True, there were much more dangerous assignments elsewhere, and he was in fact in probably one of the safest places to be, bar the ship's bridge, thanks to the reinforced bulkheads and multilayered defences that protected deck seven's armoury. Any intruders or escaped prisoners that got this far would then have to deal with ceiling based auto turrets, laser grids, and enough blast doors to stop a nuke, along with dozens of heavily armed back up squads that could storm in at the slightest hint of trouble.
But nevertheless, Maxwell hated his current job with a passion, and for two very good reasons.
Firstly, those aforementioned defences made his presence largely redundant, and the lack of action made his four hour stint seemingly drag on forever. The second and much more pressing reason however was the other guard who had somehow been dumped on him yet again for this shift, and who also had the misfortune of being both the dumbest and most annoying son of a bitch that Maxwell ever had the displeasure of knowing.
Greg. Freaking. Sanders.
"Hey! Hey Alex!"
The one guy who didn't know when to shut the hell up.
"Hey! Hey! Hey Alex!"
Who didn't know the meaning of 'personal space', or just how gratingly irritating his voice was.
"Hey! Hey Alex! Hey!"
Who made Maxwell's blood boil and teeth grit with a steadily rising growl; clawed fingers gripping his personal weapon hard enough to make the metal creak.
"Hey Alex! Hey Alex! Hey!"
And who, apparently, didn't realise just how close he was to being repeatedly shot in the face with each passing second he continued flapping his ancestors damned mouth.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey Alex! Hey-"
"WHAT?! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, GREG?"
Blessed silence reigned, or at least it did for all of five seconds before Greg opened his stupid fat mouth again. Fortunately it was just enough time for Maxwell to get a grip on his frayed temper, and not give the moron with no self preservation instincts free plasma based brain surgery, no matter how twitchy his trigger finger was. Not that the option was entirely off the table yet of course. Being exposed to Greg's incessant, whiny needling for extended periods tended to induce borderline homicidal rage in even the most tolerant of people who had the misfortune of crossing his path. Which was why It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn't suffered from an 'accidental' weapons discharge yet, or something far more creative.
...
"Wanna play I spy?"
Maxwell's eye twitched. Oddly enough, no he didn't. Although redecorating the walls with essence of Greg was proving to be very tempting right now. Especially when the idiot continued to plough on regardless.
"Kay then, I'll go first! I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with... G!"
"It's 'gun', isn't it?" he answered flatly; absently flipping off his rifle's safety and not quite pointing it Greg's way.
"Oh you're good!" Greg cheerfully replied with a bob of his head; a childish gleam in his reptilian eyes and seemingly still oblivious as to just how thin the ice he was treading on right now truly was. "How did you know?"
"Because we're in a freaking armoury, Greg," Maxwell growled lowly with rising venom and a scathing tone. "One that happens to be stocked with enough firepower to take out a battleship twice over, Greg. The same one I have been stuck in, with you, for the last hour and a half, while listening to your shit, Greg. Now do us both a favour and shut up, before I do it for you. Permanently."
By this point, the barrel of his heavy rifle was steadily grinding into the side of Greg's thick skull and keeping it pinned to a nearby bulkhead through sheer pressure alone. Finger tightening on the trigger and the urge to pull it all the way rising by the second. Greg, on the other hand, didn't seem intimidated or to even notice his fellow guard's ire one bit.
"Oh, I've got another one! I spy, with my little eye-"
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP, GREG!" Maxwell roared directly into the suicidal idiot's face from inches away; his barely controlled temper finally erupting and spittle lacing every word. "I SWEAR BY ALL THAT'S HOLY, IF YOU SAY SO MUCH AS ONE MORE DAMN WORD, I'M DROPPING YOUR ASS RIGHT HERE AND TOSSING IT OUT OF THE NEAREST AIRLOCK!"
"...something beginning with... C!"
Before he could make good on his threat however, a slight noise behind him following Greg's declaration gave Maxwell pause; whirling around with his weapon raised, only to find something innocuous that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. "The hell...?"
A solitary Nanoclip slowly rolled across the metal-panelled floor towards them, having apparently come from an open ammo crate with its lid ajar a good dozen or so feet away. While that might not be a major cause for alarm under normal circumstances, the fact that all munitions storage was rigorously checked, secured, and sealed against tampering without fail raised more than a few red flags. Add to that the fact that they were the only two personnel inside of a locked down armoury, with but a single exit through a pair of completely sealed blast doors, and there was more than a little cause for alarm.
"I'm gonna check it out," Maxwell growled out lowly; eyes flickering between the various aisles of stacked ordinance for any sign of movement. "Stay here and keep watch. If you see anything moving that isn't me, kill it."
"Ooohh, like hide and go seek!" Greg replied with a cheerful smile, as if the whole 'death-threats-and-gun-being-ground-into-his-skull' thing never happened. "Want me to start counting?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," the other merc groused, before leaving the idiot to begin his sweep. "Just make sure you keep an eye out."
"Kay! One... Two... Three..."
Ignoring him entirely, lest he feel tempted to make good on his earlier threats, Maxwell kept his rifle shouldered and ready to fire at a moment's notice as he slowly advanced deeper into the armoury; tracing a route past the disturbed ammo crate and carefully checking any potential hiding spots nearby. Every step was measured, deliberate, and surprisingly quiet for a man of his size; a skill honed from numerous cloak and dagger type jobs over the best part of a decade, long before joining Thugs-4-Less. Every corner was carefully checked for any active threats and negotiated with the same level of professionalism, narrowing down the location of any potential intruders with each passing second.
But while he might be fully alert and surprisingly competent for one of the budget PMC's employees, it had been a fair while since Maxwell had to put such skills to use, and as such, didn't have quite the same amount of situational awareness as he might have even done. Which is probably why he didn't notice the slightly out of place wooden crate he had just passed by mere seconds before; briefly flickering from sight under the harsh overhead lighting and almost seeming to slightly move of its own volition.
As it was, Maxwell had just swept the penultimate aisle before reaching the back wall when he felt a strange tingling sensation along the back of his neck; as if he were being watched. Continuing on for a few more yards, appearing for all the world as if he were oblivious to the impending threat, the merc suddenly whipped around with blistering speed and dropped down to one knee; body tensed and finger half squeezing the trigger... Only to find nothing but row upon row of numerous weapons crates lining the aisle, and no sign of any intruder.
He held there for a few moments, eyes flickering to potential hiding spots and almost itching to fire at the slightest movement that crossed his vision. But when nothing did and he was otherwise sure, Maxwell slowly rose back up to his feet and backed out of the aisle; rifle still pointed unwaveringly down range and ears straining for the slightest noise. Or at least, anything that wasn't Greg counting out loud from the other side of the armoury anyway.
"Seventy-four... Seventy-five... Seventy-six..."
Maybe he'd finally get the message one of these days, and actually shut his damn mouth when told to do so. But until then, Greg's incessant need to constantly talk would hopefully draw the potential intruder's attention towards himself and away from Maxwell; allowing him to get the drop on their phantom foe. Although that was proving to be a task unto itself, considering the distinct lack of any further evidence beyond the stray Nanoclip from earlier, and his steadily increasing paranoia that something was following him in spite of regularly checking his six.
The only thing he had seen for the past few minutes however was rows upon rows of weapon lockers and neatly stacked crates. Munitions crates, explosives crates, crates for heavy ordinance and their respective launch platforms. Hell, there was even a wooden crate that he had glimpsed during his sweep; kind of like those used for everyday supplies and, in fact, looking just like... the one that was directly before him...
In fact, it was virtually identical in every which way, and definitely hadn't been in the middle of this aisle the last time he checked. Add to that the fact that this type of crate didn't belong in the armoury in the first place and Maxwell's suspicions had been well and truly roused; stalking towards it with slow, deliberate steps and weapon ready to fire at the slightest hint of movement.
"Got you now, you sneaky son of a bitch..." he muttered under his breath; the barrel of his rifle almost touching the offending crate. "Think you can outsmart me, then you'd better think again. Come on out!"
"If you say so."
"Wha-"
Maxwell instinctively spun on his heel, weapon snapping up to point at the source of the voice coming from directly behind him and catching a brief glimpse of something red before a blinding stream of swirling particles struck him directly in the face from close range. Reeling away with a pained cry, the merc tried to shield his eyes with one arm while the other kept his rifle pointing down range; only managing to snap off a pair of plasma bolts before the transmogrifying process reached its conclusion with a flash of intense light.
Where trooper Maxwell once stood, a bewildered-looking sheep now swayed unsteadily with a questioning bleat; a booted foot kicking away his discarded rifle as Ellen holstered her borrowed Sheepinator back into Ratchet's recently liberated Quick Select. She ignored the merc-turned-woolly maggot's awkward attempts at butting her in favour of reaching through the wooden crate and watching the hologram flicker out at her touch with a satisfied smirk, before picking up the nifty little device she had purloined not ten minutes ago and returning it to her belt.
The gadget in question was the exact same kind as those used by the Thugs-4-Less snipers Ratchet and her had previously fought against , and which the redhead had been itching to get her hands on since first seeing it in action on Notak. While not quite as versatile in comparison to the Hologuise upon which the technology was clearly based, the ability to simply blend in with the background as an inanimate object offered an incredible tactical advantage; one that was more important now than ever, given how badly outnumbered she was. Although the fact it was stuck on the factory default setting and couldn't be changed to project a different disguise was a bit of a disappointment.
Standing back up to her full height, Ellen nonchalantly swayed around the flailing sheep's attempt to charge her and barely managed to suppress a snicker as it ran head first into a nearby heavy weapons crate with a decisive thump, knocking himself out. The noise did however attract the attention of his loud-mouthed 'friend', who had finished counting down to zero and was now closing in surprisingly fast if the rapidly approaching, heavy footfalls were anything to go by. Which in turn was probably the worst possible time for an audible chime from her Wrist Com to indicate an incoming call from Samus, and presumably Clank.
"Really not a good time, guys," she hissed between her teeth; voice kept low and back pressed up against a rack of the oversized shotguns that Thugs-4-Less enforcers favoured, just as the other merc rounded the corner.
"Ready or not, Alex, here I co- Oooh! Sheepie!"
In the blink of an eye he had practically teleported next to his currently transformed comrade, mumbling something about 'fluffy snuggleness' as he tightly hugged the dazed sheep to his chest. It was oddly cute and more than a little disturbing to see a grown man - alien or not - acting like a five year old with a new puppy. But given the opportunity presented, Ellen paused only long enough to snap a picture of the scene with her Wrist Com's camera for future reference, before stepping out of cover and jamming down the trigger of her borrowed Sheepinator once more.
With no further security forces bearing down on her and both guards rendered harmless, albeit now rather partial to grass and lacking opposable thumbs, Ellen drew a cleansing breath before giving Clank the go ahead. "Okay, I think I'm safe now. What's up?"
"Ellen," he began with slow deliberation, "it would appear we have a... slight problem..."
The redhead's eyes narrowed. "Define 'problem'..."
Which, of course, is when the ship-wide alarms decided to go off; the blaring klaxons and suddenly dimmed red, overhead lighting causing both Ellen and the transformed sheep to flinch involuntarily. No sooner had it started however when a smooth, authoritative, and distinctly feminine voice boomed out over the vessel's PA system via hidden speakers; each and every word practically dripping with malice.
"Attention all Thugs-4-Less personnel, this is your warden speaking. We appear to have a pest problem, and you know how I feel about pests, don't you? Find them and bring them to me within the hour; preferably alive and whole if possible, but if not? Well, I could always use some more volunteers for my pet project, so you had best hope not to disappoint me. That is all."
"That," Clank stated bluntly. "It would appear that our intrusion has been detected somehow. Access to a majority of the security systems from this terminal are being locked out as we speak, and are currently being rerouted to the primary command centre. Furthermore, from what camera feeds are still available, it appears that the guard contingent onboard are mobilising all over the ship."
"How many?" Ellen asked with a building sense of dread, pace quickening as she made her way towards the front of the armoury and its solitary exit. After all, if the mercenaries were going on high alert, then this would probably be their stop in order to gear up, and she didn't want to be anywhere near when they did. Although a nearby strongbox with 'caution: high explosives' stencilled on did give her some ideas as to slowing them down a little.
Um, all of them, we think..._ Samus' hesitant reply scrolled over the upper corner of her helmet's HUD, followed by a brief pause and thumping sounds on the other end of their open link. They're at the door! How are they at the door already?!_
"Get out of there! Now!" Ellen ordered, before a sudden thought made her pause in her efforts to jimmy open the strongbox with her Versa Blade. "Wait, Clank, can you still access the main cell block systems?"
"One moment." The sounds of thumping and muffled yells continued to grow over the open link as Ellen continued her efforts with frantic worry, what sounded like some kind of heavy industrial drill starting up in the background as Clank finally replied several tense seconds later. "To a degree, although not for long. Why, what are you-"
"I need you to flip on as many security measures as possible; cameras, sentries, doors, everything you can. If we can't shut the system down, then maybe we can overload the damn thing instead."
There was a brief pause as Clank presumably gathered his thoughts; a frantic message from Samus about the thugs breaking through popping up on the redhead's visor before he hesitantly spoke. "Ellen, are you are quite certain? If Samus' theory is incorrect, then-"
"I know," she interrupted once again with a grunt of effort; having finally gotten the strongbox open and begun to loot its contents. "But that's a chance I'll have to take. If we're going to go loud, then it needs to be all the way, and I honestly can't think of a better distraction for getting Ratchet out."
"I was afraid you would say that," the little robot sighed; the sound of rapid typing audible from his end shortly thereafter. "Very well then, it is done. I only hope you know what you are doing."
"You and me both," she muttered; giving the hastily modified explosive charge in her hands a quick once over before setting to work on the next with all due haste. "Just promise me you'll keep Samus safe and stay out of sight."
"I shall, and we will," Clank replied; the sound of metal slamming into metal rapidly growing louder in the background as he prepared to sign off. "Please, be careful, Ellen."
"Yeah, you too..."
Especially considering what she had just set into motion, and the fact that several hundred heavily armed mercenaries would now be bearing down upon her without mercy any second now. But if there was one thing fighting alongside Ratchet over dozens of worlds had long taught her, then it was that although she might be badly outnumbered, it didn't mean that she couldn't stack the odds in her favour and ultimately come out on top. It was just a question of levelling the playing field as she had already begun to do so with her previous actions, and ruthlessly exploiting any opening in the ensuing chaos to its fullest extent.
{()}
Even before its untimely acquisition and repurposing as an airborne prison, the former science vessel had been considered severely outdated by modern standards and barely worth the cost to maintain by Megacorp's bean counters. Its laboratory space and containment capacity were far too small, the powerful engines keeping it aloft suffered from poor fuel economy, and not to mention the fact it was no longer capable of breaking through the atmosphere thanks to years of neglect. But while Thugs-4-Less may not have cared much about the details when setting to work on converting the ship to their needs, they failed to take into account perhaps one of the most important consequences of installing such a wide range of modern equipment into a much older hull.
Power; or rather, a lack thereof.
Put simply, the generator capacity for those dedicated to powering non critical systems across the ship just weren't up to the task; especially given of the sheer number of internal security measures and infrastructure deemed necessary for such a large prison population. But while some cameras, turrets, and the like in the as yet unpopulated sectors could safely be shut down to conserve power, it was a delicate balancing act at the best of times for the company's onboard technicians and one that required constant attention to ensure nothing went wrong until such time the generators could be replaced with more efficient versions that unfortunately weren't due for another week at best.
As such, it was perhaps little surprise then that said generators began to feel the strain almost immediately after Clank finished activating the entire security network simultaneously; attempting to output power far beyond their intended safety margins and suffering as a result. Excess heat and noise abounded, sparks and electricity filling the air between each unit within the enclosed power plant room as the few technicians on site frantically tried to shut them down to no avail. There simply wasn't enough time, and as with all things, the aging and abused generators finally reached their breaking point.
Fusion power cores detonated in spectacular fashion, each following one another in a chain reaction that completely gutted the power plant entirely. Security systems simultaneously failed across the entire ship; the intricate network of surveillance cameras and automated turrets rendered useless without their source of power. Perhaps more importantly however, the laser grids barring each of the occupied cells from fourteen blocks spread across three entire wings began to flicker before dying completely; the world seeming to stand still for but a single moment as realisation set in, before being shattered entirely in what would later become known as the single largest prison riot in galactic history.
Pitched battles broke out across the ship as the horrendously outnumbered guards suddenly found themselves trying to hold off a veritable tidal wave of inmates; their primary force multiplier gone and weapons simply unable to cope against such sheer numbers. Reinforcements were scrambled with all due haste, heavy weapons and riot control gear were frantically passed out, and the entire onboard stock of factory fresh MSR series security robots were deployed en masse.
But between the ongoing chaos and lack of camera feeds however, it was perhaps no surprise that the prison ship's command centre personnel were a little occupied with attempting to coordinate everything, and thus were unaware of what was unfolding in the ultra-max wing deep within the ship's bowels. For still sat upon the uncomfortable bench within his cell as the power went out, Ratchet's face split into an almost feral grin; making sure the earpiece Samus had passed him was still in place before hopping down onto the cold metal floor and making his way out into the ongoing mayhem outside at a dead run.
While not exactly in peak condition thanks to the guard's earlier beatings and lack of nanotech thereafter, Ratchet didn't let it slow him down one bit. Leaping up at an angle against one of the thin dividing walls between cells, he used it as a springboard to somersault over a hulking brute of an inmate who was busy pounding an MSR II into scrap metal with his bare hands; tucking into a roll upon landing and ducking under the swing of a guard's baton. One that was grabbed and twisted out of the man's grip before being smashed across his knee in return, leaving him howling in agony as the lombax blew past without stopping in a burst of speed.
Time was of the essence right now, and given that he was underpowered, under-equipped, and seriously outnumbered, Ratchet could ill afford to get bogged down in pointless fighting. Especially since he figured it wouldn't take long for the warden to prioritise a complete ship-wide lockdown of the cell blocks once sufficient backup power had been established, and he intended o be well outside the ultra-max wing by then. Hence why he ignored the fireballs another of the red-painted robots sent his way in favour of sliding between its legs and continuing his sprint towards the sealed security door ahead; pausing only to scoop up a discarded riot shotgun that an enforcer had dropped during his struggle with a stab-happy prisoner.
"Yoink!"
An impromptu test upon a pair of thugs blocking his way revealed that it was loaded with non lethal rounds; some kind of kinetic energy slugs that sent one flying and knocked the other straight on his rear. Perhaps not quite what the lombax had hoped for, but beggars couldn't be choosers and he didn't exactly have time to scavenge for anything better right now. That and the security door was now within arms reach; Ratchet fervently hoping that there was enough power for it to open as he swiped the card key he had palmed earlier on his way in through the attached reader with keypad. It blinked in confirmation, and upon punching in the carefully memorised eight digit code, he let out a small sigh of relief as the armoured doors finally began to part.
Unfortunately they weren't exactly fast in opening, nor subtle for that matter; a pair of armed and decidedly unfriendly-looking cons not caring who got in their way as they made a break for freedom. Several pistol rounds struck a brawling guard and prisoner nearby, and Ratchet was forced to duck as one ricocheted above his head before returning fire in kind. Tagging the shooter with his stolen shotgun and forcing his baton wielding buddy to dive away into a cell, the lombax quickly backed through the open entrance as the doors began to automatically close again; keeping a steady finger on the trigger in case anybody else tried to rush him.
Although considering there was only one slug left in the clip and no spare ammo, he really hoped no one called his bluff.
Thankfully that wasn't the case, and after several agonisingly slow seconds, the thickly armoured doors were soon securely shut once more. With a little more room to breathe now that he didn't have to worry about some of the worst scum in the universe perhaps literally stabbing him in the back, Ratchet turned towards the second, identical set of solid metal doors but a dozen feet away and went through repeated the whole security sequence once again. Unlike the last time he passed through this way however, the security desk was bereft of its attendant guard, while the business end from one of the flame-throwing robot's arms was jammed through the slowly opening gap before attempting to light things up.
Acting instinctively, Ratchet jammed his purloined baton deep into the weapon's barrel before tumbling away; the resulting build up of pressure causing it to detonate spectacularly but a few seconds later. Scrambling back to his bare feet and deftly hopping between the swathes of burning fuel and metal fragments littering the floor, he unloaded the last of shotgun's slugs into the already reeling machine before reversing his grip and repeatedly bringing the stock down on its head. Once he was sure it wasn't getting back up anytime soon, Ratchet left the still twitching metal corpse where it fell and quickly searched the security desk for anything useful that might have been left behind, before continuing to retrace his original route back towards the main elevator.
The others had done their part in busting him out, and now it was his turn to return the favour in spades by doing what he did best; teaching Thugs-4-Less, and now Megacorp by extension, exactly what happened to those who tried to screw over both himself and those he held dear. But before all that, he really needed to make a call or two and let the others know he'd made it out alright, along with arranging a rendezvous point with Ellen in the hope that she had managed to secure his gear from the armoury. Oh, and deal with the trio of guards who had just stepped off the elevator in front of him, looking a little too trigger happy for his liking.
Plasma soon filled the air as the three opened up without warning and Ratchet reacted with typically feline grace; practically dancing around them and into melee range with his shotgun-shaped cudgel already swinging at the nearest foe. But as they fought up close, with each manoeuvre and near miss constantly forcing the unprotected lombax to adapt or die, he couldn't help but bare his teeth once more into a feral grin that his predatory ancestors would have been proud of.
'Better watch out, Crudelis; 'cos once I'm done here, I'm coming for you...'
And so the prison break finally begins…
I know this chapter didn't really advance much, and I'm sorry to disappoint anyone hoping for something a little more action packed. But after much thought, consideration, and a whole lot of frustration, I finally realised that trying to squeeze everything into one chapter just wasn't going to work. Rest assured though, now that the necessary pieces are properly in place, we'll be heading back into much more familiar territory next time with what I intend to be a heavily modified and much more action packed version of the original level. See you then!
Review replies:
starrat - Thanks again!
danio13 - It is indeed. But that doesn't mean I can't introduce throwaway characters to add a little depth, or use them as a bridge to do a little world building while I'm at it, right?
bajy - Why, thank you! As to what will happen next, however… Well, let's just say things are about to get a little explosive…
DarkEnigma95 - Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it, and Ratchet's usual smartass mouth being on form. You know, I can't help but wonder what would happen if the Reboot nefarious was somehow able to witness what had happened to his Classic universe self, up to and including A Crack in Time, and the effect it would have upon him. Or better still, have them team up through some contrived Great Clock based shenanigans that end up bridging both universes together. An epic crossover in the making, perhaps?
Oh, and thanks for the reminder. Should have realized it was the Plasma Striker, or at least checked the Wiki anyway. Take care for now, and hope you liked this chapter too.
Firestar5277 - Aw, thanks! You know, I didn't originally intend to do things this way, but once I started adding details and the characters began to grow as more than just quick throwaway perspectives, they just kind of ended up writing themselves. To misquote your teacher, everyone really is the hero of their own story, with their own set of morals, wants, and needs. I just wanted to get across the fact that whether in movies, books, or real life, every nameless face encountered is their own person and equally important to somebody, somewhere.
Given that's an entire years supply worth of laxative that Ellen's 'borrowed' and the sheer amount of likely foot traffic in the ship's mess hall, you might want to watch the results from a very safe distance. Although I suspect that Angela might not be too pleased with the smell, or the inevitable collateral damage once Ratchet and Ellen go all out. That and the Plumber might have a few questions about unusual blockages…
Hope you liked the new chapter, and that I'll be able to keep up my regular update schedule without any further hiccups; plus maybe a few omakes too once inspiration strikes. Take care for now, and hope to hear from you again soon.
TimeLordCompanion - (Grins). Oh yes… I somehow suspect that Thugs-4-Less will be needing more than just a surplus of Toilet paper and brown pants by the time their shift is through.
Blizzard 694 - I can't really say without spoiling anything, but lets just say that Ellen's presence will affect canon and that she doesn't take kindly to rivals for Ratchet's affection, perceived or not.
Light Seeker 001 - Huh… You know, not that you mention it, I can't help but see that myself; albeit with more of a reptilian hiss to her voice. Still, if by some small miracle Insomniac ever want to borrow the character of Warden Crudelis for the next reboot, at least we know who they should hire as a voice actor. I can definitely see Ellen liking Lawrence's dry wit and sarcasm though; especially since he isn't really bad guy, but rather just a put upon employee thumbing his (metaphorical) at a despotic employer. Hell, if it wasn't for Nefarious and being on opposite sides, I'm sure they'd get on quite well.
Sonachugirl - That she is, and is likely one of the reasons Thugs-4-less gave her the job in the first place, given the prison ship is well outside the public eye. This may be an unfamiliar situation for our heroes, with the odds so heavily stacked against them and no room for error. But given her resourcefulness and a touch of malicious vengeance for those that mess with her loved ones, Ellen will make damn sure her plan will work, one way or the other. Hope you like this chapter too!
Until next time, please review and check out my other stories once they're posted and/or updated.
Thanks for reading
- RevenantReaper337