Post by Pin on Mar 16, 2016 2:11:10 GMT
Hidden in a derelict and neglected warehouse deep in the Radditsu District, a machine suddenly hummed to life. It was unlikely anyone would be around to hear it other than saiba rats. The warehouse belonged to an organized crime ring hitman by the name of Choke, who used it for some of his less savory dealings. It just so happened that he was friends with a certain bounty hunter, and may have owed that hunter a favor.
That favor, if the rumors were to be believed, was to give that bounty hunter exclusive access to the warehouse basement. Choke assumed the hunter would use it for storage, or even as a makeshift home. It wasn't like that hunter needed any particular creature comforts. Either way, Choke had gotten into the habit of not asking too many questions. It came with the job. He and the hunter saw eye to eye on this. All told, they were good buddies.
But the hunter didn't use that basement for storage. Instead, he'd used it as a sort of garage, or some kind of low-budget laboratory. Within were schematics, machine parts, computers, and an esoteric array of power sources carefully arranged on a locked and secured storage cabinet along one wall. It was here that the bounty hunter developed new weapons and other gear for himself. It was here that the hunter plied his father's trade.
But now the silent basement was echoing with the thrumming of a lone machine - a computer, with a tangled bramble of wires tumbling out the back and leading to a wide variety of other machines. The computer's monitor turned on by itself, and the screen showed a scrolling series of ones and twos in bright green text on a black background. A harsh noise replaced the soft hum of the computer's fans, and soon after other machines began to power on.
A pair of robotic arms on treads began to putter around the garage, selecting pieces of machinery and placing them on a conveyor belt that led to a coffin-sized bin. As the parts were dropped into the bin, smaller, almost insectoid arms extended off the sides of it and reached in to manipulate them into place. Sparks and flashes of light would occasionally emanate from within as these spindly appendages welded pieces together. The selector arms became more and more particular, more and more careful as they began to select parts like cooling fans, motherboards, and processors. These were critical pieces and could not be chosen lightly. Each piece was checked for flaws to ensure they were in proper functioning order before being placed gingerly onto the conveyor belt. As these pieces neared the end of the belt, the bin's arms would grab them before they could fall in, protecting them from any accidental harm.
This process took several hours, and soon there was only one part left to select - a power source. The robotic selector arms each approached a lock on the cabinet. Timed perfectly, they turned each lock simultaneously. The cabinet doors slid open automatically, and the selector arms went to work. They tested each power source for functionality, stability, and power output. Many of these sources were intended for smaller machines or weapons, and thus were not suitable for this particular machine. However, there was one amongst the many that was perfect, and had been selected for just such an occasion as this. The selector arms carefully brought the power core to the bin, bypassing the conveyor belt entirely. Working in tandem with the smaller welding and construction arms on the bin, the selectors placed the power core in its proper spot.
The bin closed, and the machines in the room shut down as all power was diverted to it. The room was filled with a loud rumble, and then suddenly fell silent. As the bin reopened and the overhead lights turned back on, a hand grasped the side of it. Pin pulled himself from his reconstruction chamber and stood up. He ran a quick internal diagnostic, and nodded as the results came back at 100 percent functionality. He stepped out of the chamber and approached a workbench. The fact that he was naked was not lost on him. His helmet, his pistol, his entire outfit had been destroyed. He noticed a particular firmware update - he could now enter "permanent calibration mode", a software simulation equivalent of his heavy weighted clothes, now lost on Namek and likely gone forever.
No matter. He could rebuild that helmet during sleep mode, and he'd been meaning to redesign that pistol for ages. More importantly, he needed to call back the Pixie. Couldn't do much of anything without that ship. He leaned over to the computer and typed in a command, sending a long-range wireless signal to the starship, calling it home to Vegeta.
"General, I'm not sure if you can hear me on another planet," Pin said into his internal scouter, trying to open a private channel with Mayze, "But if you can and you're alive, I'm on Vegeta. I'm going to take care of a couple of things, but I'll return to Namek at my earliest opportunity in order to complete the mission. Pin out."
That favor, if the rumors were to be believed, was to give that bounty hunter exclusive access to the warehouse basement. Choke assumed the hunter would use it for storage, or even as a makeshift home. It wasn't like that hunter needed any particular creature comforts. Either way, Choke had gotten into the habit of not asking too many questions. It came with the job. He and the hunter saw eye to eye on this. All told, they were good buddies.
But the hunter didn't use that basement for storage. Instead, he'd used it as a sort of garage, or some kind of low-budget laboratory. Within were schematics, machine parts, computers, and an esoteric array of power sources carefully arranged on a locked and secured storage cabinet along one wall. It was here that the bounty hunter developed new weapons and other gear for himself. It was here that the hunter plied his father's trade.
But now the silent basement was echoing with the thrumming of a lone machine - a computer, with a tangled bramble of wires tumbling out the back and leading to a wide variety of other machines. The computer's monitor turned on by itself, and the screen showed a scrolling series of ones and twos in bright green text on a black background. A harsh noise replaced the soft hum of the computer's fans, and soon after other machines began to power on.
A pair of robotic arms on treads began to putter around the garage, selecting pieces of machinery and placing them on a conveyor belt that led to a coffin-sized bin. As the parts were dropped into the bin, smaller, almost insectoid arms extended off the sides of it and reached in to manipulate them into place. Sparks and flashes of light would occasionally emanate from within as these spindly appendages welded pieces together. The selector arms became more and more particular, more and more careful as they began to select parts like cooling fans, motherboards, and processors. These were critical pieces and could not be chosen lightly. Each piece was checked for flaws to ensure they were in proper functioning order before being placed gingerly onto the conveyor belt. As these pieces neared the end of the belt, the bin's arms would grab them before they could fall in, protecting them from any accidental harm.
This process took several hours, and soon there was only one part left to select - a power source. The robotic selector arms each approached a lock on the cabinet. Timed perfectly, they turned each lock simultaneously. The cabinet doors slid open automatically, and the selector arms went to work. They tested each power source for functionality, stability, and power output. Many of these sources were intended for smaller machines or weapons, and thus were not suitable for this particular machine. However, there was one amongst the many that was perfect, and had been selected for just such an occasion as this. The selector arms carefully brought the power core to the bin, bypassing the conveyor belt entirely. Working in tandem with the smaller welding and construction arms on the bin, the selectors placed the power core in its proper spot.
The bin closed, and the machines in the room shut down as all power was diverted to it. The room was filled with a loud rumble, and then suddenly fell silent. As the bin reopened and the overhead lights turned back on, a hand grasped the side of it. Pin pulled himself from his reconstruction chamber and stood up. He ran a quick internal diagnostic, and nodded as the results came back at 100 percent functionality. He stepped out of the chamber and approached a workbench. The fact that he was naked was not lost on him. His helmet, his pistol, his entire outfit had been destroyed. He noticed a particular firmware update - he could now enter "permanent calibration mode", a software simulation equivalent of his heavy weighted clothes, now lost on Namek and likely gone forever.
No matter. He could rebuild that helmet during sleep mode, and he'd been meaning to redesign that pistol for ages. More importantly, he needed to call back the Pixie. Couldn't do much of anything without that ship. He leaned over to the computer and typed in a command, sending a long-range wireless signal to the starship, calling it home to Vegeta.
"General, I'm not sure if you can hear me on another planet," Pin said into his internal scouter, trying to open a private channel with Mayze, "But if you can and you're alive, I'm on Vegeta. I'm going to take care of a couple of things, but I'll return to Namek at my earliest opportunity in order to complete the mission. Pin out."
