Author's note:

Really, really didn't want to do this, but given the looming deadline and just how much material I wanted to cover for this arc, there was no way I'd be able to squeeze it all into a single chapter on time without seriously compromising the story. My original draft ended up being a cumbersome and ultimately rushed mess which simply just didn't work out in any coherent fashion.

Which is why I've grudgingly decided to split this chapter in half; giving me a chance to flesh out and expand upon scenes I would otherwise have been forced to cut out, and ultimately ensuring that this arc ends on an explosive note rather than the damp squib it would have been. Rest assured though that I have no intentions of dragging things out unnecessarily, and that one way or the other, the next chapter will definitely mark the end of Aranos at long last.

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 33:

Prison Break Part I

Thugs-4-Less Maximum Security Prison Vessel 'Tartarus', Aranos

Bogon Galaxy

G2.17.085 Galactic calendar

11:03am local time

A thunderous pounding of boots accompanied the platoon of armoured mercs as they rushed down the corridor leading to deck seven's armoury, the sheer volume of which threatened to drown out the constantly blaring klaxons altogether. Many were only half dressed or missing equipment altogether, having been roused from their bunks or in the middle of a late breakfast as the guard shift changed, and thus weren't exactly at peak condition while scrambling to join their comrades. Not to mention that a good chunk of their available manpower had suddenly been stricken down with a mysterious and incredibly violent stomach bug, and thus were in no position to combat the intruders confirmed to be onboard.

Which made securing the armoury and the heavier armaments there even more critical; especially since the guard detail had gone suspiciously silent, and weren't responding on any frequency the platoon leader tried. While it might be down to equipment failure, given the rumours about the commando they were likely dealing with and her ability to infiltrate virtually anywhere, the guards inside were probably already dead. But even so he kept trying to raise them, right until they finally reached the outermost blast doors of the armoury itself; the squads under his command stacking up on either side with the better armoured members up front and waiting for the order to move in.

"Alright, boys, standard breach and clear!" the lieutenant barked out over the damn incessant klaxons. " Remember, we've got friendlies inside and a whole ton of explosives, so make sure to check your damn targets before shooting anything. Corporal?"

The man in question simply nodded in return from where he was stood beside the blast door control panel and began to run a bypass on his Wrist Com, the daily access code and swipe card interface having been rendered useless with the security system reset. A few long minutes later and he was done; swapping back to his rifle as the heavily armoured doors slowly began to grind open with mechanical precision. Everyone was tense, impatient, and ready to shoot at the slightest hint of movement; the lack of noise coming from within not helping one bit as first then second squad fanned inside with a practiced ease borne from constant training.

The lieutenant waited a few heartbeats for the lead elements to establish a foothold before following through with his weapon shouldered and the third squad at his back, only to encounter nothing whatsoever. If there really was an intruder here then they were being unsurprisingly cautious, and given who they were likely dealing with and the scuttlebutt surrounding said rogue commando, the feeling was rather mutual. Which was why he left a fireteam guarding their entry point and only exit as the rest of the platoon began their search in close concert with one another; each element moving as a pair and providing mutual support to those on point.

It was a sound plan, and one that would have worked just fine under normal circumstances were it not for two important factors. The first of which being that Ellen was in fact no longer in the armoury itself, having used the not-Hologuise to blend in with a jumble of assorted crates piled near the blast doors and subsequently snuck out when their backs were turned. With the still blaring klaxons masking her steps, the redhead was able to rapidly put sufficient distance between her and the mercenaries without being heard; reaching the closest elevator and stabbing the call button just as the second factor came into play with a flick of the purloined detonator she held tightly in her off hand.

In the event of an emergency, the armoury's blast doors could be sealed via a quartet of six inch thick metal deadbolts that were quickly released either remotely or via a local manual override; creating a seal on the thickly armoured room and preventing potential boarders from raiding its contents or using them to blow away half the ship The addition of several crudely slapped together demolition charges that she had planted not five minutes previously, however, ensured that the low-powered magnetic fields keeping said deadbolts in check were permanently disabled; trapping the entire platoon inside with a series of dulled explosions and taking them out of play without a single shot being fired.

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said about the other two dozen mercs who turned up shortly thereafter.

There was far too much plasma flying through the air and nowhere near enough cover for Ellen's liking; forcing her to dive away from the elevator doors and hunker down behind some worrying thin metal piping that ran floor to ceiling along the far wall. Thankfully for her however, a majority of their fire seemed to be focused upon keeping her suppressed while advancing in small teams and actively avoided the use of explosives, otherwise she would have likely been torn to pieces there and then. But while the thugs were deliberately limiting their attacks in accordance with the warden's orders to take her alive, the redhead had no such compunctions and quickly tossed out a trio of Megaturrets to provide cover before switching over to something with a little more kick.

While she was reluctant to burn through too much of Ratchet's arsenal before she could have a chance to hand it back, having access to all that extra firepower gave Ellen a lot more options than she otherwise would and use the enclosed environment to her advantage. The leading elements of thugs were temporarily stalled, ducking down behind the shields of their enforcer comrades as they tanked the automated guns' barrage of rockets and unable to be hit or retaliate in kind without exposing themselves first. Although they probably hadn't counted upon her using the Multi-Star's unique ricocheting, laser sharp projectiles to ping off the relatively narrow corridor's walls and strike them from the side; slicing through flesh and armour alike with disturbing ease.

The temporary chaos sown by her opening shots and subsequent slack in incoming fire from those in the rear gave Ellen the opening she needed; spinning around her cover with the bouncer in hand and angling its cavernous barrel up at such an angle that the first spiky cluster bomb would just behind what was left of the hardier front runners. While the up-armoured enforcers could take a lot of punishment, even their hard light shields couldn't stand up to the resulting blanket of high explosive bomblets in such a confined area and they ultimately fell just like the rest; the Megaturrets self-destructing upon running empty almost seeming like an after thought.

But while Ellen may have gained herself some temporary breathing space, the thugs that remained no longer had to worry about accidentally hitting their friends; a withering hail of automatic fire tearing the pipes she was using as cover to shreds and allowing a worrying amount of scalding steam to spray out of each new hole. A quick glance to one side revealed that the elevator was almost there, the adjacent lit panel indicating it to be only one more floor away. But with no way to reach it without getting ventilated in the process or effectively shoot back while being so heavily suppressed, Ellen was reduced to blindly firing her Reaver Carbine around rapidly disintegrating cover in the hope of catching a lucky break.

Which, as it turned out, came in a most unexpected manner.

It started with a faint, almost imperceptible tinge to the air; one that gradually began to rapidly build in both volume and odour until both sides could no longer ignore it. With the venting steam affecting her vision and all thoughts focused upon staying alive, the first indication Ellen had of something being amiss was when the amount of incoming fire suddenly began to slacken, swiftly followed by coughing, choking noises coming from the remaining mercs were still bunkered down. A quick peek around what was left of her cover revealed that some kind of thick, viscous brown-hued gas appeared to be pouring from the ventilation system overhead at a rapid rate; the horrific stench stealing her breath and causing her eyes to water, such was its power.

With a muted alarm sounding in her ear, Ellen's helmet automatically responded by deploying its built in rebreather and sealing tight just as the gaseous cloud rolled over her position. A message flashed across her HUD in bright red capital letters as she gulped down the sweet filtered air from the internal supply in an effort to cleanse her burning throat, and it took a moment before she could focus enough to read it with widened eyes.

''Biological hazard?' What the hell are they trying to do, gas me out?'

She'd like to think that Thugs-4-Less would never stoop so low as to flood the entire deck and their men with it in order to take her out, but prior experience and the company's reputation did point to it being a more likely idea that not. As she dashed forward towards the now opening elevator doors however, keeping an eye on the now borderline comatose thugs clutching at their throats and writhing on the ground a few dozen yards away, Ellen couldn't help but think otherwise. After all, if that were the case, then Warden Crudelis could just have easily sealed the ventilation ducts while she was still inside and gassed her out there and then without issue. But just because the psychotic woman hadn't demonstrated such tactics just yet, didn't mean she wouldn't sooner than not.

Plus there were the strange readings her Wrist Com's diagnostic program were picking up upon attempting to discern the strange gas's composition; the elements themselves familiar enough, although their ratios were rather peculiar. Medium to high concentrations of both hydrogen and nitrogen, with much lower traces of carbon dioxide, oxygen, and... methane? There were some very minute hints of other gases too that appeared to release sulphur as a by-product, which might help explain the terrible smell that even her helmet's filters were struggling to scrub out. But it was the methane that stood out to her for some reason, Ellen's mind churning in search of an answer even as the elevator doors closed upon punching the required button and began to ascend once more.

It took a few long moments for realisation to dawn as she puzzled it over in her head, wondering what such an overwhelming noxious compound actually was and, if not deliberately, why it was being pumped through the ship wide ventilation system. But once it had, the redhead couldn't help but burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what must have happened; the number of strange coincidences that must have piled up in order for something to snowball this much in such a limited amount of time. In fact, she was still laughing when her Wrist Com began to rhythmically chime with an incoming call a half minute later; retracting the helmet's rebreather mask now that she wasn't in immediate danger and barely managing to answer through a fit of suppressed giggles.

"H-hey there, fuzz ball. Did it work? Are the bars down?"

{()}

"If you mean the whole 'power going out across half the ship' thing..." Ratchet paused to duck under the swing of yet another enraged inmate, leaping up into a spinning strike that cracked him across the skull with yet another stolen baton, before hitting the ground running once more. "...then yeah, I'd say it worked a little too well."

Which was an understatement to say the least; a short elevator ride from the ultra-max wing having deposited him in a vaguely familiar security hub that was now in the midst of a pitched battle between Thugs-4-Less and a wave of recently released inmates pouring in from the nearby cell blocks. Neither side gave an inch or any quarter in such a brutal melee, forcing the lombax to constantly duck, dodge, and dive through the ensuing mess in order to reach the far side while keeping combat to a minimum. Something that flew in the face of his normal methods, but utterly necessary given how badly outnumbered and underpowered he was in this situation.

Though that didn't make him powerless by any means; Ratchet finding that that the lack of armour or heavy weaponry allowed him to make full use of his natural lombax agility and perception to avoid the worst of the fighting altogether. While those encounters that he couldn't saw him running rings around anyone who lashed out at him before returning the favour fourfold, the blistering pace of melee combat against much bigger and physically stronger foes harkening back to the earliest days of his hero career back on Veldin. Albeit with a looted and worryingly bent baton as opposed to his trusty Omniwrench. What he wouldn't give to have one right now...

"Thank god for that," Ellen sighed with audible relief over their still open radio link; bringing his focus back to the matter at hand. "We weren't sure if the ultra-max wing had separate generators or not, and we kind of had to wing it there and hope for the best. How're you holding up?"

Ratchet hummed in thought as he crossed the final stretch between him and the currently sealed double doors on the security hub's far side, only to freeze and dive aside as they hissed open to reveal a new squad of security robots eager to join the fray. "I've, uh... been better. How about you?"

The MSR II series machines were firing indiscriminately into the surrounding masses, apparently not caring for friendly fire in the least given that they were hitting their own side more often than not; turning the situation into a three way brawl. Unfortunately for Ratchet however, being the nearest available target also meant being on the receiving end of a disproportionate number of fireballs that just barely missed him thanks to lightning reflexes and split second timing. Even then the flaming projectiles were way too close for comfort; the heat of which threatened to singe his fur from proximity alone, while a pair of chainsaw-wielding bots detached themselves from the marching main body to finish the job.

"Okay, I guess," Ellen continued; her earlier good humour having evaporated altogether "The armoury on deck seven's been shut down, and I've been sabotaging the thug's ability to respond any way I can. But there's just so many of them..."

"Yeah, I Kinda noticed," the lombax responded dryly. Stepping back out of range, he let the closest MSR overstep its mark and bury its weapon deep within the wall behind him with a distinctive screech of metal upon metal, before immediately darting under the machine's guard and smashing his baton across its faceplate. The second came darting in for the kill even as the first's helm snapped back from the sheer force of impact, accidentally decapitating its friend with a descending slash of a whirling chainsaw arm and relentlessly pursuing its furry foe with broad, sweeping strokes that became increasingly difficult to effectively counter.

Given that his stolen and heavily abused weapon was already on the verge of destruction, it was perhaps little surprise that it finally snapped in half upon attempting to parry one chainsaw thrust too many, and left a wide-eyed Ratchet jerking his head to one side to avoid being run through or worse. But even as he was backed up against a wall with seemingly no obvious room to escape, the lombax's enhanced sense of smell had him wrinkling his nose in disgust at the sudden whiff of rotten eggs and decay coming from somewhere between his legs. A quick glimpse revealed a shuttered air vent that likely fed into the ship-wide system of ducting; a frown creasing his brow while asking the obvious question. "Ugh... What the hell's that smell?"

"Yeah... About that..." Ellen began, only to descend into a fit of giggles, much to his surprise.

The momentary distraction almost cost him dearly as the MSR attempted to bisect him once again with its chainsaw, rolling aside at the very last second and only losing a few tufts of fur instead. But while the buzzing blades had merely caused cosmetic damage to the wall which he had just been standing in front of, the much less durable vent below was virtually sheered in half; the stomach churning smell becoming far more potent as a few tendrils of opaque brown-tinged gas began to filter through.

"Long story short; my plan to take some of the thugs out of the fight might have gone horribly right, and if the rate of spread so far is anything to go by, then anyone within a few decks either side of seven without a gasmask on is about to have a very bad day."

"Really wish you'd told me that earlier, babe," Ratchet groused; the words muffled by the sleeve of his prison issue jumpsuit as he tried to put some distance between the still determined security robot scuttling towards him. "What the hell did you even do?"

The stench was an almost physical force by now and rapidly getting worse by the second, the nearest organic combatants choking and spluttering as it began to overtake them. It wouldn't be long until the encroaching gas filled the security hub entirely; a growing tide of both guards and inmates turning into a stampede for the nearest exit as they abandoned their individual struggles in favour of escaping an insidious foe that none of them could fight. Not that it would do them any good, Ratchet mused as he tore the sleeve off an already down and near comatose prisoner's jumpsuit; wrapping it around his nose and mouth to help filter out the worst of the effects until he could find something better.

Which was just as well really, because the brown tinged gas seemed to be getting thicker and more life threatening by the minute. A point neatly driven home when an MSR II on the hub's far side raised its flamethrower arm and attempted to launch a bolt of fire at a fleeing group of inmates only to spark a somewhat explosive reaction; the very air seemingly set ablaze as the volatile cocktail of gases ignited into a room-spanning fireball. Ratchet certainly felt the sudden heatwave wash over him in spite of still being crouched down a good thirty or so away, but those closer to the blast radius weren't quite so lucky; the security robot suddenly detonating in a shower of shrapnel as a flaming back blast entered the barrel of its weapon and cooked off its internal stores.

"I'll explain later, but right now we need to meet up with the others and get out of here while we still can. Whereabouts are you, anyway?"

She had a point, and given that the impromptu fuel air bomb had not only sown casualties and confusion across both sides but also temporarily cleared the air too, Ratchet intended to take full advantage of the momentary distraction to break through before that overpowering mystery gas could reassert itself. It helped that the blast had taken a number of his mechanised stalkers out of commission too, leaving a much clearer path between those unfortunates littering the floor with pained groans and burns of varying degrees of severity, although that still hadn't stopped the now thoroughly battered chainsaw MSR that still doggedly pursued him on its three still active limbs.

"Deck five," he replied while neatly flipping over the first harried thrust thrown his way; juking away from a second aimed at his mid-section and putting on a burst of speed. "Some kind of security station for the cell blocks, I think."

There was a momentary delay, during which he vaulted over the wrecked remains of a checkpoint barrier and dropped into a slide under another of the flame-spewing security robots, before Ellen finally replied. "I think I've got a rough idea, and if I'm right, then there should be a ventilation access point nearby that leads directly to some kind of forge works on the deck below. I'm not sure where exactly though..."

"Don't worry about it, I think I've got a pretty good idea."

Suddenly changing course and making a beeline directly for the torn open duct in front of which he had been stood less than a minute before, Ratchet prepared to hold his breath and dive through before the slowly regrowing gaseous cloud could begin pumping out once again, or the room's surviving occupants could otherwise react. Diving head first inside with the tenacious chainsaw MSR close behind on his tail, the lombax's nose rankled at the lingering smell of rotten eggs and far worse in favour of crawling as quickly as he was able; ever conscious of the distinct lack of breathable air and fervently hoping that he reached the end before running out.

"Alright, I'll meet you there just as soon as- Damn it!"

His heart skipped a beat as the redhead's voice suddenly cut off in a booming shotgun blast and burst of static, mouth opening automatically to respond before choking on the increasingly noxious fumes being carried along the network of ducting. it was even worse in such cramped quarters, enough to make his eyes water and head swim worryingly in spite of the makeshift filter wrapped around the lower portion of his face. But the prospect of Ellen getting herself into some serious trouble was more than enough motivation to force him onwards, crawling somewhat woozily down a sharp slope in the ducting and feeling a sudden current of warm air wafting his way from a branch off immediately to one side.

Closer investigation revealed it to be coming through a mesh grille covering a vertically inclined ventilation shaft, the sudden increase in temperature and rising heat helping to lift the otherwise heavy and constricting brown-tinged air. He couldn't see much down below after around ten feet or so, save for a dull glowing orange that backlit the otherwise plain metal ducting. But given that it seemed like the best option right now, Ratchet latched his clawed fingers around the thin mesh and pried it loose with a brief grunt of effort before attempting to lower himself through the new opening.

It was a task that proved to be a lot harder than anticipated in such cramped quarters, even for someone as flexible as himself, and no sooner had Ratchet finally managed to squeeze himself into the vertical duct when his tenacious grip slipped upon the relatively smooth inner walls. Suddenly plummeting into the unknown with a startled yell and bouncing off of the shaft's inner walls all the while, the lombax instinctively tried to dig in with the clawed extremities of all four limbs in an attempt to slow down; ears twitching with a reverberating screech of metal each time he made contact.

No sooner had his unfortunate descent begun however when the ventilation shaft unexpectedly transitioned from vertical to horizontal; Ratchet finding himself on his back and skidding along the smooth metal surface before being violently ejected through the mesh grille at the end where the roasting heat hit him just before the floor. Sitting up with a groan from where he'd unceremoniously crashed into a stack of empty metal containers, Ratchet couldn't help but feel he'd gone from one problem to another considering how stiflingly hot it was; even for someone like him who had long acclimatised to desert environments thanks to growing up on an arid world like Veldin.

The reason for which, now that he had a chance to properly look around, was probably due to the veritable lake of bubbling molten metal that ran across a majority of the massive chamber's length; standing some three storeys tall and only broken up by a network of fenced platforms and catwalks, such as the one he had ungraciously landed upon. Multiple robotic arms and a bewildering array of assembly apparatus were spaced out at regular intervals along its entire length, seemingly frozen in the mid-task and otherwise inactive, while open bins of ingots and scrap metal were stacked between on every available surface.

This had to be the forge works that Ellen was talking about; a remnant from the ship's science vessel days that was would have been used to build prototype machinery on site for immediate testing by Megacorp's researchers, and subsequently abandoned by a string of following owners. Which would explain why the infrastructure looked like it was falling apart in places and cannibalised for parts in others, but none of that mattered right now as far as Ratchet was concerned. Especially since his earpiece didn't seem to be working anymore, and any attempts at re-establishing contact with Ellen, Clank, or Samus were met with nothing but static.

Growling to himself in a frustration that was only made worse by the boiling temperature, Ratchet stripped off the top half of his prison jumpsuit and tied it around his waist in an effort to help dissipate the heat before taking off down the mesh-grilled platform at a fast jog, only to pause as something suddenly caught his eye. Amongst a pile of scrap metal, long warped out of shape by exposure to such constantly high temperatures, an elongated and oddly familiar-looking, rusty red shaft with orange highlights protruded towards the ceiling above at an odd angle; a contoured silver hand guard running along its length.

Grasping it firmly with both hands and finally managing to pull it free after a few abortive attempts, Ratchet couldn't help but grin as he held aloft a slightly aged but otherwise serviceable Omniwrench 12000; turning it this way and that as he inspected the comparatively sleek and tooth-edged head for any damage. "Finally! Something I can actually work with."

While he had no idea how something as good as this ended up abandoned down here for who knows how long, Ratchet wasn't one to let an opportunity for new weapons pass by, and especially when he was otherwise completely unarmed. Giving it an experimental twirl and quick checking of the surrounding area for any equipment that might have been left behind, he took off once again and was just about to turn on to a gantry fraught with machinery that ran parallel to the pit of molten metal when a mechanical whirling sound from above gave him pause.

A sharp jerk of his head towards the ceiling soon revealed its source, the lombax widening his stance and preparing to spring forth as a cadre of spider-legged MSRs rapidly descended from above on thin steel cables. One of which landed scant feet away and promptly had its helm caved in before it could detach: Ratchet using the momentum from his overhead wrench strike to tuck into a roll upon landing and sprinting towards the next before its twitching body could hit the deck with a clang. This one at least had the good sense to begin launching bolts of flame the second it had an adequate bead, but given the short distance involved and the lombax's natural agility, it didn't really stand a chance.

"Out of my way!"

Using the gantry's railings as a springboard, he somersaulted over yet another fireball and flung his wrench in mid-air; knocking the machine's follow up shot off target and using the fleeting reprieve to get in close for a flurry of rapid strikes that left it a shattered wreck. But while the narrow walkway and associated machinery may have forced his mechanised foes to come at him piecemeal, it also meant he had to go through them one after another in order to reach the far side of the forge, and time was most certainly not on Ratchet's side. Who knew what kind of trouble Ellen and the others had gotten themselves into, and here he was bogged down in a fight with just a wrench for company.

Sparks flew as he parried a downwards slash, the chainsaw-equipped MSR quickly reversing direction only to meet nothing but air as he jumped and hooked on to one of the inactive robotic arms lining their route; using it to swing around and plant both feet in its back. The machine staggered forward under the impact, Ratchet pushing off into a backflip over the head of a second as it thrust directly at where he had been but a heartbeat ago, only for the maelstrom of blades to bite deep into the other's torso and send both crashing to the floor in a jumble of limbs. A fireball singeing the fur atop his head received a flung wrench in return, the lombax dashing after it and catching his weapon mid-stride as he homed in on the offending MSR II and got stuck in once more.

Inch by inch he fought his way across the forge, fur matted and each breath reduced to panting as the overwhelming heat took its toll. The only real saving grace here was that there weren't any traces of that damned suffocating gas in the air, although whether that was due to the sweltering conditions or the fact it simply hadn't penetrated this deck yet remained to be seen. The fact that Ellen may have had something to do with it as well was a little concerning to say the least, and it was definitely something he'd have to ask about once they finally met up again. But first he had to get the seemingly never-ending stream of robots off his back long enough to find a way out of here, and it didn't look like they were going to be giving up anytime soon.

Slamming one in the chest with a two-handed swing that sent it tumbling over the railings and into the pit of molten metal far below, Ratchet continued to bolt up the stairs to the next level only to find three already waiting for him and more dropping in from behind to box him in. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh? Alright, bring it!"

Charging forth at the nearest machine with his wrench arcing into a rising uppercut, Ratchet could only hope that Ellen could take care of herself long enough for him to smash his way through, because this was probably going to take a lot longer than he hoped. Especially since these guys seemed determined to grind him down with seemingly unending numbers and the scorching temperature was really starting to take its toll; his movements becoming more sluggish with each passing minute as fatigue began to set in.

There was no way he could keep this pace up indefinitely, and so as the MSR he was fighting went down with its front legs shattered beyond repair, Ratchet took the opportunity to vault over its head and leave the rest behind at a flat sprint towards the far side of the forge works. Tired as he was and still bruised from the guard's earlier beatings, the lombax's superior natural speed and reflexes left the machines standing in spite of their attempts to cut him off; barely even slowing down as he dropped into a sliding tackle under a maelstrom of pincer legs and saw arms before continuing to pound along the raised gantry at a breakneck pace.

Unfortunately it seemed to run out around halfway across the massive chamber's length, and the welcoming party that had dropped down on to the edge like steel spiders were already eagerly sending balls of superheated burning gas his way, but if Ratchet felt deterred then he certainly wasn't showing it if the wide smirk was anything to go by. Flipping over a fresh volley of fireballs as he closed the distance and tumbling away from another, a thrown wrench knocked one of the flame-spewing security robots into its nearby chainsaw-wielding counterpart and staggered them both; the third unable to get a clear shot as the lombax caught his weapon in mid-air and used its comrade's chassis as a springboard to reach the defunct robotic assembly arm behind them.

At some point somebody had secured a power line between the machinery on this platform and a similar counterpart way over on the forge's far side, the reason for which Ratchet honestly didn't care other than that it made for a convenient zipline. Reaching the apex of his assisted jump and hooking his wrench over the top of the cable, the lombax held on tightly as practically flew down its slightly sagging length; mentally praying that it would take his weight and not dump him into the pit of molten metal that continued to bubble far down below. Thankfully it did, and a rather ungraceful dismount left him sprawled against one of the forge's burnished metal walls, but at least he had managed to throw off his pursuers for the time being.

Taking stock once he had managed to right himself and stagger to his feet, Ratchet found himself on a fairly small platform occupying one of the forge works far corners; a pair of broken and seemingly half-melted catwalks extending from either side and no other obvious way down. Of more interest however was the presently sealed airlock door set into the wall beside him and the bolt crank just before it that had seen better days; Ratchet briefly rolling his shoulders to limber up before attaching his wrench and heaving with grit teeth against whatever was gunking up the mechanism.

The crank obviously hadn't seen use for quite some time, and it took a fair bit of effort to get the thing running smoothly. But with one final grunt of effort and a depressurising hiss, Ratchet was finally able to step through the probably long disused door and out of the accursedly oppressive heat at long last. Which, he reflected upon entering the storage closet of a room within and toggling the counterpart airlock door open on the far side, might not have been quite so bad given what lay beyond.

"Whoa-kay, definitely not going that way..."

Buffeting icy winds whipped through loose fur and stung at Ratchet's eyes, forcing him to take an involuntary step back with an arm raised protectively in front of his face. Snow-covered tundra and mountainous peaks passed by far below, the much thinner air making it harder to breathe, and upon chancing another look once he'd managed to adjust a few moments later, it was fairly obvious from the lack of exterior walkways running along the ship's hull that this exterior airlock probably wasn't supposed to be opened in mid-flight at high altitude.

Pulling back from the open doorway and deciding to find a better route, he had just turned around and barely taken more than two steps when the unexpected sight of an MSR squad attempting to emulate his earlier zipline trick with their manipulator claws gave him pause. The fact that it actually seemed to be working, even with a few falling to their doom and the overtaxed cable threatening to snap any second, was more than a little concerning. Especially once it became clear that there were even more waiting their turn on the far side, while the lead machine had already touched down on scuttling legs and would be on top of him any second now.

With no way to lock the door from this side and few options to hand, Ratchet ducked under the machine's buzzing chainsaw arm and sent it reeling with a sledgehammer blow to the torso before bolting towards the exterior airlock once more. The MSR wouldn't take long to recover, but for now at least it blocked the others from entering the airlock chamber, and Ratchet was making full use of the momentary reprieve to psyche himself up for what he was about to do. With one final deep breath and his wrench slung across his back with some salvaged electrical cord, the lombax made sure to have a secure hold on the doorframe before swinging out the door and almost instantly regretted it as the wind threatened to tear him away.

The howling elements tore at his body while a distinct lack of handholds along the uneven surface left him scrambling for purchase. But after several long moments of desperation, Ratchet finally managed to jam the claws of his feet into some nook he couldn't quite see, and having finally found a way to anchor himself, gradually began to shift his body into an upright position and away from the airlock at an agonisingly slow pace. Which turned out to be just in time, seeing as the chainsaw MSR he'd clocked less than a minute ago had quickly recovered and was now leaning out of the open door frame; its buzzing blades slamming down and kicking up a shower of sparks as it bit into the hull scant inches away from his left hand.

Which, while flinching instinctively away from the danger, promptly let go.

His cry of alarm was quickly lost to the elements, the scything winds catching hold of his body now that it was no longer pressed up against the hull and leaving him flailing against the slipstream by a single handhold before inevitably being torn away. Tumbling end over end while constantly crashing into the vessel's smooth plating all the while, Ratchet desperately scrabbled for something, anything, to latch on to; finally latching on to some kind of exposed piping after several heart-stopping moments and hanging on for dear life. That had been way too close for comfort, and upon chancing a look back at good thirty foot plus stretch between where he had just came from, a hell of a lot further along than he had ever intended.

A blurry glint of blue metal filling his vision had him ducking down and tightening his grasp further still as it suddenly smashed into the hull scant feet away, barely missing his head as it whipped past close enough to part his fur. A quick glimpse of over his shoulder revealed the tumbling form of a chainsaw MSR just before it disappeared into the cloud cover below; presumably having leaned out too far in order to attack him and being caught out by the turbulent conditions in turn. The last thing he needed right now was for one of its fireball shooting cousins to try and take potshots at his exposed position with no way to evade or fight back, but fortunately for him, Ratchet happened to have a solution at hand.

Jutting out of the hull just above his position and with several rungs leading up to it was what appeared to be the exit point for a waste disposal pipe of sorts; the cover plate for which was half broken with age, while the interior looked like it could easily accommodate his frame while crouched down. Actually getting to it in the first place was a challenge unto itself, muscles straining and teeth grit with determination as the constantly buffeting air currents threatened to tear him off the surface with each step of the climb. But in the end he was finally triumphant, and with one last burst of strength, Ratchet just barely managed to squeeze through the gap and into the disposal pipe itself before collapsing with exertion.

He lay there for a few long moments on the filth encrusted floor, panting heavily and feeling like he'd just run a non-stop marathon around half the galaxy, before eventually staggering upright and consequently cracking his skull on the rather low ceiling. "Gah! Stupid sewage pipe..."

Absently rubbing the top of his head with a scowl and a wrinkled nose at the lingering smell of old sewage in the air, Ratchet forced himself to start shuffling forth in a waddling half crouch through the assorted congealed muck; hands carefully feeling along the walls and eyes squinting against the looming darkness. Still, it was a damn sight better than trying to negotiate his way along the hull without any Gravity Boots or protective gear, and with any luck he might find somewhere to re-establish contact with Ellen along the way. But in the meantime he needed find a way out of here, and given the amount of accumulated crap that made his bare feet squelch with each step, some new boots really, really soon...

{()}

"What the hell is going on out there!" Annabel snarled, the heavily armoured outer doors parting like waves before her wrath as she stormed into the Tartarus' primary command centre.

The vaguely octagonal two-tiered room was bathed in the same red hues of emergency lighting as a majority of the ship, a horseshoe-shaped spread of consoles occupied by frantically typing personnel taking up the lower portion while a massive bank of monitors spanned the wall before them; a majority of which showed little more than static or were otherwise blanked out entirely. Twin flights of descending stairs flanked a raised platform towards the rear, and it was here that a scant few of the higher ranking mercs with bulky-looking headsets attempted to coordinate everything; snapping to attention as their superior stalked forth and praying they didn't earn her volcanic ire.

Having grown impatient at the lack of progress in covertly tracking down the elusive intruder, the warden had opted to issue a ship-wide alert for her capture and was already on her way up from the starboard flight deck to supervise things personally when the power suddenly died. Being trapped in an elevator for a good five minutes until the vessel's aging emergency generators decided to kick in only served to sour an already foul mood, one that darkened further still upon discovering that the communications channels were so overwhelmed with panicked chatter that she couldn't get hold of any of her subordinates whatsoever. All of which added up to one very pissed off woman demanding answers, and a very short future for anyone who failed to provide them quickly enough.

"Well, Lieutenant?" she barked. "Report!"

"Uh, y-yes ma'am," the central-most thug stuttered out nervously while clutching his tablet like a lifeline; scowling internally as the other two beside him slowly backed away. "We've lost all non-critical systems between deck four and fourteen, including a majority of our security systems. Cameras, auto turrets, and energy barriers are down across the board, and while there's enough emergency power to keep the basics running, nothing energy intensive will work unless our engineers can patch the generators."

"And the prison blocks?" Annabel questioned with a glare, the hesitant look upon his face suggesting she wasn't going to like the answer one bit.

"The stationed guards reported mass containment failure shortly before losing all contact, and we can only assume that the... um, inmates... might be loose." Seeing her lengthening scowl and balled fists beginning to twitch, he quickly pressed on. "But, uh, we've already dispatched second company to sweep the lower security blocks along with half our security bots, while elements of the first secure the ultra-max wing. It should only be a matter of time until the situation is back under control."

"Not with that damn commando still out there," she growled before fixing the lieutenant with an icy glare that made him flinch. "What about the lombax and his robot, do you at least know where they are? And what happened to the riot response teams? They should have already been there by now!"

"Um, not... exactly, ma'am," he hesitantly replied with an audible swallow. "Surveillance shows them being put in the same ultra-max cell, and we've had a couple of possible sightings close to delta wing, but beyond that we can only guess where they're heading. As for the response teams... well, they, uh, they..."

"They've come down with a bad case of food poisoning, ma'am. Along with everyone else having mid-morning chow," one of the other officers spoke up. "Right now they're all suffering from… explosive diarrhoea and I don't think they'll be getting off the can any time soon."

"That and we've had reports of a powerful biological agent spreading through the ventilation system, which may be connected," the third added. "We've already begun to seal off the vents and shutdown the air conditioning, but it'll take some time, and anyone entering the affected areas will likely still need a breathing mask since the gas seems to linger for some time."

Annabel couldn't help but pinch the bridge of her reptilian snout with rising frustration, crimson gaze boring into the trio and barely able to keep an even tone of voice as she summed things up. "So what you're telling me is that we now have not one, but two ex-commandos and their robot running amok on my ship, a probable mass prison break to deal with, and that my elite riot squads - the only ones onboard who are specifically trained for this kind of situation - are incapacitated because they can't stop shitting themselves?!"

This wasn't just bad, it was a freaking disaster! Within the space of a few short hours, what should have been an easy capture and containment of the two biggest thorns in the company's side had spiralled completely out of control, and her need to maintain an unbreakable image was the only reason she wasn't screaming in impotent rage at the shattering of her neatly ordered and controlled world right now. There would be plenty of time for that later in private, preferably with the lombax and his hussy at her mercy so that she might relieve her anger and show them their proper place beneath her heel.

But before that avenue of pleasure, she would first have to hunt them down before they could entertain any silly notions of escape; and who better to ensure the job was done right? Venting a deep sigh, Warden Crudelis drew a cleansing breath before addressing the three distinctly skittish-looking officers stood before her. "Very well then; scramble the rest of our mechanised contingent along with any remaining troops, have them load up on whatever heavy ordinance we have left in the armouries and reinforce those units moving on the prison blocks. In the meantime, keep a few of the assault platoons in reserve and prepare to send them to my location once I give the signal. It's time I took care of this personally."

'And that sneaky little markazian bitch will be the first to feel my wrath...'

…and I'm afraid that's it for now.

Still not 100% on how it turned out, but then again I could carry on tweaking the damn thing for another week and still never be satisfied. At least this way I can safely say things are actually moving forward, and hopefully be able to come up with a properly deserving conclusion to the Aranos prison escape next time. See you then!

Review replies:

Guest - Way ahead of you there I'm afraid, given what I've got planned out for an upcoming arc, although that'll be something that's more prevalent in the sequel given how Up Your Arsenal is structured story wise.

Firestar5277 - Aw, thanks! Although, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you might just have been looking forward to the next update a tinsy bit (Grins).

Yeah… somehow I don't think Angela's going to be too pleased with the cleaning bill by the time Ratchet and Ellen are done with the ship; assuming she still wants what's left once they've shot their way through it again that is. If nothing else, at least the lethal pong will keep anyone else from wanting to steal it anytime soon. As for the Plumber… Well, at least he enjoys his job, I guess… and might be an omnipotent being of sorts, which could explain some of the weirdness.

I'm glad you like the background characters as well, along with Samus and Clank's adorkably budding relationship. Though bit parts in the grander scheme of things, I feel they add a little more depth and perspective to stories that tends to be lacking when only focused on the main characters.

I have to agree with you on the movie though, for while aesthetically beautiful to look at, the overall plot and character development feels lacklustre and rushed. I was honestly expecting more, and while it was nice to see another side of Qwark, a majority of the new characters felt flat and pointless. Personally, I think it would have worked better as an episodic short series instead; focusing on the early days of Ratchet and Clank's early days and their developing friendship at a much more gradual pace.

Take care for now, and hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

bajy - Thanks, and unfortunately, I'm pretty sure we've all had to deal with people like that at some point in our lives. Lord knows I have; especially since Greg is based off one of my work colleagues who genuinely doesn't know when not to run his mouth off, although his heart is in the right place. Here's hoping you enjoy the next instalment just as much.

Plasmatik - I wholeheartedly agree with you on most points, although to be fair, no one's ever accused Thugs-4-Less or their employees of having particularly high IQs. While considerably smarter than the rank and file, Crudelis is also incredibly arrogant and has a bit of a superiority complex to boot; the very thought that they might escape the highly secure ultra-max cell simply unthinkable in her eyes. The same mentality applies for the confiscated ships and weapons too, although its more a case of Thugs-4-Less putting some expensive hardware to good use rather than just keeping it as some kind of trophy. Fighter capable ships especially, since the former science vessel didn't exactly have much in the way of active air defences.

DarkEnigma95 - To be honest, the level structure for the Aranos prison level always felt kind of off to me and, as you said, wasted a lot of potential . Which is mainly the reason why I've gone out of my way to restructure everything in way that both makes more sense and is interesting to follow; although I might have gone a bit overboard… As to what Ellen used to 'spice up' the mess hall menu… Well, the clinic was missing a year's supply of laxative…

If nothing else, it would definitely be interesting to see what the reboot universe Nefarious would make of his counterpart's schemes. Though I do question whether he would learn from the experience or otherwise use them as inspiration for his own obviously 'superior' plans. Similarly, I wonder if things would have been different if Chainblade had joined Thugs-4-Less rather than become a Megacorp gladiator? Especially if he was kitted out with better armour and ranged weapons like some kind of organic walking tank. I guess we'll never know for now, unless Insomniac does something similar in a hypothetical Going Commando reboot, but I can always dream, right?

shadow-dog18 - A wild reviewer appears! Seriously though, I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far, along with Ellen as a character. Here's hoping this chapter lives up to your expectations too.

Sonachugirl - Nope, not in the slightest, so feel free to laugh away! Though I definitely wouldn't want to be the one responsible for clearing that mess up, or anywhere near it for that matter. Thanks again for reviewing, and hope you like this one too.

Until next time, please review and check out my other stories once they're posted and/or updated.

Thanks for reading

- RevenantReaper337