The sensoriums made for a convenient training ground for all the right reasons, but most of all because they allowed Motoko to cheat. It hardly seemed fair for the world around to be controlled by whatever constituted the strongest mind, or the most established, but on these proving grounds, as ever, fairness was not part of the equation.

The world was a sleepy summer day, warm with cicada song and dry, ragged grass, knee-high in places, scorched to the earth in others. An abandoned, decrepit skeleton of a Soviet military base dominated the landscape, dotted here and there with holes like dark hollow eyes among the crumbling walls and roofless, exposed innards. Once, this place had been alive, and now it was as bleached as bones in the grass, as nature retook what man had conquered.

Here and there the rusted-out remains of tanks slumped where they had been abandoned. Red paint, incongruously fresh, marked a series of them as targets at the far end of a carefully 'makeshift' firing range, though most sat aimlessly, unmarked and unattended. The place nearest the door was dominated by one such tank, perhaps in slightly better repair than the others, and perched upon it was the reason for all the fuss and trials. Major Kusanagi folded her arms and leaned her back against the treads, casting a sidelong look at what was left of Section Nine.

It was going to be a long day.

[ OOC: Wait for Subthreads, please. OKAY, GO GO GO GO! ]

It seemed like months since he had been back out.

Had it been months? He couldn't even tell anymore.

Either way, Briareos Hecatonchires, GLaDoS's favorite test subject, found himself on his ass in the middle of the hallway, a stupefied look on his face (well, not that it's easy to tell for most people, what with his...lack of face and all).

He gets up, looking back at the wall he'd been shot out of, the door of which had completely sealed up, leaving no visible trace. He gives the wall a good, solid kick with one of his metal feet.

"HA!" he says in a sort of half-crazed defiance. "You think I'm gonna fall for this one, Cake-Bitch? Just another hologram, like the last dozen times or so. I'M NOT BUYING IT, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

There came absolutely no response from the wall, and the massively tall full-body cyborg sits himself back down in the middle of the hallway, waiting for...well...something to happen.

...It's all rather odd, to say the least.

He'd handled it well, in the beginning at least.

However, months upon months upon months of being stuck in this ship have started to take their toll on Bri.

And even as much as he cares for her, he didn't think he'd miss Deunan this much.

For the past couple of weeks, he's managed to make himself scarce from all the other people, taking time to himself to cool off.

Now, though, he's feeling a bit more sociable, so right now he's up in the Obs Deck, laying back on one of the meat-couches as he looks out the massive window.

Feel free to talk to the slightly mopey cyborg. He looks like he could use it.

Chief, Brainiac 5, Leela, Cale, Bri, Paco, Samus, and Allen took the fifth pod. The ground beneath their feet slowly became softer and more squishy, undoubtedly to the grave annoyance of those wearing armor. Marshland, perhaps? It was definitely something they should keep an eye on. Who knew if there was quicksand or something like it, and marshes were generally home to some not-so-pleasant creatures...

The Chief found something out while fighting the Taxxons, and that's that his aim isn't quite as sharp as he wants it to be right now. Whether that's because of being in the pod for a while or what, he doesn't know. It's just a detriment to his survival odds and so he's going to FIX it.

The thing he didn't anticipate, however, is what the Sensorium did when he asked it for a gun range.

He's standing behind a rather futuristic if unremarkable firing line, a massive room with the walls heavily insulated to absorb sound with a control system along one wall for various courses of fire.

He knows this place, and it sort of knocks the breath out of him a little bit. He stands in silence, just looking at it for a moment like a man who's seen a ghost. Because... he sort of has. This room probably doesn't even exist anymore, it's the range on Reach. He was trained here.

It's a fragile reverie, though. The next thing that catches his attention will break it and business will be got down to.

The rescue team stopped just inside the doors of the Vatican for a quick last-second pow-wow, and to make sure that everyone knew their jobs and places on this team. A note was also made that if anyone was going to be f*$%#ing stupid, they should let everyone else know so they could be tied up and left behind as bug-bait. This was not the time to be pulling shit, not with over a half-dozen people captured and (hopefully just) one dead.

The general plan was that they'd all follow Jaime, since his scarab could track down Paco and Robin, and hope like hell the others were with them and that they didn't run into too many bugs on the way. There was wiggle room in the plan for as much running and screaming and shooting as necessary, but the end result was dead bugs and rescued crew members so they could all go back to trying to figure out how to get home.

Last chance to stay behind and fight the good fight in an enclosed space.

It took some running and some fighting, but they made it to the Vatican without losing anyone, or even any limbs. The Vatican itself seemed deserted, although it was unlikely that they'd take that at face value at this point. Roaches were good at getting in where they weren't wanted, why should seven-foot ones be any different?

At least it would stall them, let everyone catch their breath and recover. Regroup, take a headcount. Come up with a plan.

Because they really, really needed one.

It was time to get a little more organized, share some information with each other. She had a talk with that bigface kid, Jaime, to see if he could do anything to shield them from Stacy's prying eyes and he said he had a few ideas, so a meeting place was chosen, and it was time to gather.

Cybil had a good authoritative, shouting voice.

"Everyone, listen up! We're meeting down in the city near that big tree. Grab whoever you see and get down there."

Indeed they were. People were starting to gather there.

[ooc: Instead of little subthreads, everyone post in one thread as people arrive. Try to keep the convo general, like everyone talking to each other, instead of devolving into private conversations.]

Ax had hid. And watched.

Just because this didn't look like a Yeerk ship didn't mean that it wasn't. Or that there weren't Yeerks aboard among the crew.

So he'd watched. He'd noticed the uniforms and 'Stacy' had shown him where to get one of his own. He'd requested that she call him 'Phillip' instead of his real name. If there were controllers here, they would certainly recognize an Andalite.

He'd overheard enough to know that they were far from Earth. Probably not close to the Andalite Homeworld either. And that even if they were, it might not even be his Andalite Homeworld.

There had been theories about such things as alternate universes being possible, but...

But that wasn't the point. The point was that he was trapped on this space ship, and he had no idea how much he could trust the other people on board. Especially since they seemed a bit, what was the phrase -- trigger-happy.

So he'd morphed human -- his 'own' human form, the mixture of Jake and Rachel and Marco and Cassie -- and slowly let himself be seen, out of the corners of people's eyes, disappearing and hiding but slowly letting the other people get closer.

He was fairly certain that he was going to get 'caught' this time.

Or rather, he was going to be found.

The place was huge. They'd been looking around, trying to figure out exactly what the hell had happened to them. They've been at it for a few hours, and they have, at this moment, exactly nothing.

At least the trip to the lockers was fruitful. Bri had his ESWAT badge pinned to his suit (Just for the hell of it, not to mention he doesn't want to lose it), and of course, a rather large pistol holstered at his side.

Right now, they've managed to wander into the Obs Deck. It was...definitely something.

Bri let out a low whistle.

"Damn," he said to Pat (they'd managed to lose the weird pale guy earlier), "You'd think they'd get tired of the whole 'Dark and Creepy' motif going on here."

||Pod Release Protocols Initating.||

Again. But this was a separate release. And now there were people to announce pod releases to.

Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.