Hei en oo kirjottanu mitään sitten lukioaikojen mut nyt inspiroiduin väsäämään lyhyen pätkän mun Mothership-kampanjan (pöytäroolipeli) hahmosta ja must siitä tuli aika hyvä niin ois kiva jos lukisitte ja kertoisitte onko hyvä no mutta ei saa haukkua pahasti jooko ??

Nii ja tarkotus oli kirjottaa kieli poskessa pulppia mut lopputulos ottaa ittensä ehkä ihan vähän liian vakavasti

Okei!

Tell me, boy... (Tää ois kursiivissa niinku muukin päänsisäinen dialogi; jäbä kuulee vanhan senseinsä ajatuksissaan)

Strider concentrated on his breathing—deep, deeper than the root of the valley—and then: stillness.

When you hunt the wolf, where does it go? (Kursiivi)


He pushed away from the frozen shores of his respiratory system, swimming inward toward the hearth.


Into the shadows. (Kursiivi)


Entombed, his vascular system slows to a crawl, then settles into motionless suspension. Solemnly, like a withering autumn flower following its ceased brother, his inner self folds into stillness—the half-lotus hankafuza—Padmāsana, the pose of the old Zen warriors—as the fire sighs out.

To hunt the wolf, Anatoly, you must become the night. (Kursiivi)

The soft whirring and pleasant glow of a security droid passed by the frosted glass window of the dim office, continuing peacefully down the tastefully decorated corridor—blissfully unknowing what it had missed.

Strider blinked sweat off his hairless brow.
Angel? Here? (Kursiivi, strider puhuu itselleen ajatuksissaan)

HSU-5 V-Delta Reactive Patrol Constructs were usually reserved for high-class executive shielding detail - board members of Kronov Engineering or Nokori Surveillance Group, if them. Or worse: black site containment. But here?
Fucking hope it’s alone. (Kursiivi)

The sleek corporate monolith loomed imposingly in the heart of the Strata District of Ferren Cluster, deep within the Hestia Sector. This was corporate territory, predominantly inhabited by ordinary mining conglomerates and resource extraction enterprises. Usually the district buzzed with the relentless energy of ore refinement and deep-space excavation, but now it was as tranquil as a tomb.

Strider let his eyes sweep the C-level suite in its entirety. This far out in the cluster the light was often eerie - the high altitude auroras caused by magnetospheric storms bathed the room in dim pale green, violet and electric blue hues. It was like watching an old noir obscura cinefeed on acid synthezised by ghosts.

Strider crossed the expensively, but blandly decorated room in a few quiet steps. As he rifled through the drawers of the dark wooden desk of Dr Robert MacInnis, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this unassuming corner room of an corporate obsidian tower might not be just the office of Director of Corporate Security of a simple mining company, but something else entirely.

Folders, data spheres, reports, supply chain analysis, no, fuck, not these. (K)

Strider ground his teeth and glanced up. How long was the parameter cycle? Helion Armatech did not fuck around with their security products.

There! (K)

Strider snatched the black cube from the back of the drawer and threw it down his throat in a swift, fluid motion. Since when was black-ops data extraction called “mining”?

Move, boy! (K)

His body sprung into action before the synaptic connections breathed understanding in his central processing unit.

Fucking angels he thought (k), mid air, vaulting over a half collapsed office chair. Then the woodplex floor he had been standing on a nanosecond earlier exploded.
As did the mahogany desk.
As did the whole eastern wall.


Strider landed in the midst of rubble, dust and chaos with trigger already pulled, letting the VNK-nanomatter-imbued phosphorus grenades roar themselves into existence from the wide barrel of his heavily modified STRATO-pattern pulse rifle like eager nuclear reactions—bright, unstable, and starving for impact.

He did not stay to witness the atomic-radiant hell he had unleashed in this deceptively anonymous setting - he did enjoy his eyes - but recited a resigned prayer to the Wolf as he launched his massive frame out of the hole that had been a 16th story glass wall half a breath ago. Time seemed to slow as his eyes turned upward and met the gentle, blind and eternal gaze of the galaxy.

This? This ain’t civilization. This is just the light from a dying fire, flickering in a room too big for us. (K)

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