Took a while this time because I just had corrective eye surgery. But now I can use my computer without blinking like a strobe light.
The Flux
The power grid is acting up again, and you have been dispatched with your fellow technicians to troubleshoot. Yet another day of tedium in the Corpus machine.
As you heft your tools and equipment, you grumble at each other, hypothesizing the cause of the trouble. Often it's the same thing, day in and day out. Insufficiently shielded cables, failure to reset the breakers, a sudden surge blowing out a transformer, local brown-out because some idiot stressed the grid with giant piece of hardware without going through proper procedure, the list goes on.
And regardless of your efforts, you know that faults will continue to show through, and your crew will receive all the blame from the higher ups.
The Foreman accesses a system interface and begins to diagnose the problem. A series of nodes in a large spherical area are on the fritz. Likely a reactor containment issue, with radiation bleeding through the insulation and inducing extra current.
You are about to agree with his quick diagnosis when you recall that the area in question is nowhere near any power source. It is the bulk storage area.
Another crewman wonders if something energetic is being stored in there, and spontaneously lost containment.
A few men depart to check the area. Minutes pass by as the Foreman continues monitoring the network. More nodes are now beginning to malfunction, showing the zone expanding. You lean in closer to the screen, frowning behind your helmet. An expansion would imply that something is indeed there, but the men who went to look haven't called anything in.
The Foreman comes to the same conclusion and calls out over the line, asking for a status update. There is no answer besides static. Another call, and this time a sharp screech tears through the line, causing you and your fellows to instinctively clap your hands to the sides of your head.
It is a partial transmission from one of the departed crew. The voice is panicky, and very heavily distorted, barely making it through some form of interference. But one word cuts across: Tenno.
The Foreman reacts instinctively, slapping the alarm next to the panel and marking the area on the map for reinforcements to move in. And then indoctrination kicks in, overriding your instincts of self-preservation even as they scream for you to turn tail and run in the opposite direction of the Tenno threat.
The closer you get to the area of disturbance, the more your electronics begin to spazz out. Pondering what sort of Tenno you are facing, your team stops dead at the sight of the departed crew.
Only the shattered remains of the visors tell you that these bloody, compacted, semi-liquefied masses of bone and tissue used to be your coworkers. Something squashed them from the outside in to unrecognizable bits. The mangled helmets thankfully contain the brain matter and eyeballs that you know are in that mess somewhere, though synovial and cranial fluid mix with the blood and waste into a putrid coagulating slime.
The force is as sudden as it is irresistible. You and your team are yanked off your feet and through a thin plasteel wall. The impact throws you for a loop, and it is a moment before you scramble back up.
The Tenno has a bulbous face, with swirling lines of metal around each arm. The face itself is an ever-shifting display of hues. It is a thin figure, almost lanky and fragile. Yet its appearance does not fool you. It is a Tenno, and still far stronger and tougher than any normal human.
You raise your weapon and give the order to fire. But just as several triggers are pressed, the Tenno lifts a hand in your direction. The bolts of energy from your weapons strike out at the figure, only to reverse course and tear through your team.
Miraculously, the short burst of redirected fire only grazes you. You turn to dive away from your wounded comrades while more Corpus men arrive on the scene, hoping that you can escape the affected area.
The Tenno raises its arm upward, and snaps its fingers. It appears to be a useless gesture, but when you try to fire your weapon again, you are staggered as an unseen force shorts out your shields. Your aim settles, and you pull the trigger, but your weapon refuses to fire. It is jammed and malfunctioning.
As you stare dumbfounded at your weapon, your actions are mimicked by the rest of the Corpus with weapons in hand. Meanwhile, the Tenno lazily throws out a hand in another direction and clenches a fist before yanking back toward itself. Several cries echo out, and a goodly amount of Corpus reinforcements come sprawling into view, propelled by an unseen force.
You suddenly have an epiphany. Magnetism. The Tenno is using magnetic fields. Such things would easily explain the power grid disturbances and the effects on your shields and weapons. You and your comrades are wearing a significant amount of ferrous material on your persons, leaving you vulnerable to such forces.
Unfortunately, the realization does nothing to help you defeat this enemy. You drop your Tetra and draw your Prova baton, sprinting towards the Tenno to try and subdue it, knowing even now that it is useless.
The Tenno raises both hands into the air. Your feet leave the ground, and you find yourself suspended along with every other Corpus. Then you feel an immense pressure all around your body as the Tenno bends its elbows and brings claw-like hands down level with its shoulders, as if in preparation to clap. You realize you are about to experience the same crushing demise as your earlier comrades.
Then the hands come together. Your last thought is the hope that you die instantly. You are not disappointed.
Only two more of the original frames, and then I move on to newer ones. Loki, or Volt?
