The motion becomes more solid, and it’s definitely not human, whatever it is. It drops headfirst from a third-story window, a big bite taken out just adjacent; bricks thrown out from whatever blew the hole out.
The thing stops, turns to him with a funny mechanical noise, and swaps from that catlike stance to this funny little hunch, clusters of bloody-red eyelights fixing on him. It makes this noise, a kind of monotone, hollow croak. It raises one curved arm; it doesn’t so much have an elbow as it does a chain of them, some kind of knives mounted astride the forearm. It looks to be readying to shoot, but that endeavor is cut off with a thunderclap.
Or, more accurately, a high caliber round going off about two meters from him.
The thing croaks again, staggering on its double-kneed legs, and collapses in a heap.
The assailant rolls into existence, sort of; he appears in a blue ripple, and gestures for him to keep that big shotgun pointed elsewhere.
Friendly and squid are two signs that come up. The rest are jumbled, out-of-practice. Eventually the slate-clad soldier gets annoyed–at his own lack of skill, it seemed–and points to the dead scrapheap, signing squid again. Not-friendly, there, and then he points to himself. Man. Friendly. You?
Well, if that wasn’t one ugly motherfucker! Rather than shoot the mechanical-organic creature on sight ( as they probably should have ), they merely cocked their head at it, following its movements even as it readied an attack. Not a demon– they’d seen everything Hell had to throw at them, and this guy most definitely wasn’t one of them. A UAC experiment, maybe? The Revenants weren’t exactly normal residents of hell themselves, and who was to say this fleshy thing was any different? Their shotgun made a small click as they pumped it, pointing the barrel toward the not-demon–
Only for it to collapse before they could pull the trigger. The Doom Slayer didn’t get the chance to complain, as their attention was quickly snatched by the sudden ( very sudden! How had they missed him? Unless that was good old teleportation at work ) appearance of the attacker. His stone gray armor and red visor reminded them a bit of a fusion between the Night Sentinels and Samuel Hayden– although, more alive than the former and less of an asshole than the latter. Hopefully. They tossed the shotgun back over their shoulders as requested, followed by a slightly worried furrow of their brow as he struggled to sign. They grasped what he said with ease, sure, but he seemed to be having one god-awful time there!
To cut him some slack ( he was clearly a little rusty ), they kept their own signs simplistic and slowed as they responded.
‘ Squid, bad. Man, you, good! Gotcha. ‘ They pressed a finger against their chest plate, then gave him a good ol’ thumbs up. ‘ Not man. Not squid. D-O-O-M-G-U-Y. Also friendly! Won’t shoot ya’. ‘ A small gesture was made to the ruined city around them, and their expression lost some of its optimistic spark.
‘ What happened? It ain’t lookin’ pretty ‘round here. Wait. Backtrack. Where are we? ‘
Frankly, he’s already tired of garbling his signs. (Seems someone didn’t like being shown up by the new guy.)
That’s when, rather suddenly, this funky, hexagonal logo blazes itself all over 93′s HUD: CryNet Combat Solutions, Nanosuit 2.0. Patents from 2023 dart by, but a few seconds later and it’s all gone without so much as a trace.
And then textcomm rolls up the left; [New York. Lower Manhattan. As for what happened? Not sure myself. I just know there’s squiddie in everyone’s business, and I’m looking for one Nathan Gould. You wouldn’t happen to know the guy, would you?]
The visor turns away, intent red glow dimming, focused elsewhere. One shoulder pinches up in a half-assed shrug, not entirely directed at them.
[Alcatraz, by the way. You and that big gun are going to give these aliens a run for their money.] He kind of, squeezes the grip on his boring, utilitarian dark grey rifle, the alloy or plastic or whatever-it-is creaking a little. Again, he seems a little envious.
More croaking from the blown-out building, and Alcatraz looks up, reflexes almost catlike in gesture.
[Moving might be a good idea, bigass shotguns or otherwise.]
Time's Vengeance 