3874/Crash Site Investigation

Crash Site Investigation
Date of Scene:	14 February 2018
Location:	Outskirts of Metropolis
Synopsis:	A crash investigation turns out to be more than Nuala can handle alone. Luckily, she gets help!
Cast of Characters:	Mon-El, Nuala Duvall

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Mon-El has posed:
    On the outskirts of Metropolis lies a large clearing where trees have been flattened and the ground has been cratered by the wreck of a massive alien ship, the one mentioned on the news broadcasts. It has several large holes in its hull, and is still smoldering from the heat of reentry. SHIELD and other groups must be on their way, but have not quite arrived just yet.

    Anyone familiar with spacecraft would probably peg it as a military vessel, from the way it is so well armored and outfitted with a pretty vast array of weaponry.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    It isn't more than a few minutes since the crash that The Halal interceptor glides in. Nuala stands from her seat as the ship continues to park itself, cloaked and silent. She quickly taps some auto defense protocols as she leaves the cockpit. "<Timmy, set the defenses, scan for known threats, contact Nova, give them update and feed, inform them that we have have possible victims or aggressors on site here. See if we can find out if anyone is missing a Daxamite military craft.>" she tells the AI in the primary Xandarian language. The little orb bot acknowledges as the woman steps into the Shell Suit armory. She holds her arms out, and it snaps in around the slim suit, coming to life. The rear hatch opens, and she hops out onto the dirt, the thick armored suit landing solidly. She peers through the visor, scanners starting to analyze the damage, looking to see if she can tell what damaged the ship.

Mon-El has posed:
    As expected, the ship does indeed look Daxamite. It's hard to tell if the holes were made by blunt force trauma, or laser weaponsfire, since everything is on hot and smoldering from friction with the atmosphere anyway. There are no reports of anyone missing a similar craft though, so it wasn't stolen. But wait, is that a life sign? A single one, near where what remains of the bridge is...

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    "<Single survivor detected by sensors. Disengaging psionic barrier, Timmy, remotely re-engage if there is trouble.>" Nuala does as she promises, disengaging the barrier so that she can naturally sense the location of the life form, and hopefully determine whether it is hostile before she meets it. She grips a weak piece of broken hull, pulling it open with disregard of the heat. The Shell Suit can take it. She steps inside, and starts making her way toward the bridge.

Mon-El has posed:
    The hull is already comporomised, so the piece gripped tears away easily. The inside is just as wrecked as the outside, with the walls torn up all around along with various wiring and conduits exposed. A shower of sparks greets her as she enters, and the floor is littered with dead drones that must have been part of the ship's internal defenses. As for the life form's thoughts, they are unreadable to her given she doesn't know Daxamite, the language they are in. But if she gets in view of the bridge, she will spot a blond-haired man in a mostly black uniform with white trim crouched over a dysfunctional comms array. Presumably, he's trying to get it working enough to get a signal out to someone.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
     Nuala checks the drones as she passes, and the sparks shower her suit as she steps forward. It isn't quiet, and she turns to pass through a particularly damaged corridor, squeezing past. She powers down the wrist blaster. "<Survivor is probably Daxamite,>" she tells Timmy in Xandarian. "<I don't speak Daxamite, bring up the translator in case we share no languages. She switches on the external speaker on the suit. "<Hello?>" she calls in Daxamite so that she does not surprise the man when she comes into view. She knows that word at least. She makes her way through the wreckage, and spots the bridge. "<This is Nuala Duvall of Nova sanctioned Halal Task Force. Are you all right?>" She speaks in Xandarian still, uncertain if she can be understood.

Mon-El has posed:
    The man stands up suddenly and whirls around, a look of wild rage in his eyes as he turns to face her. They glow red threateningly as his hands ball into fists. He glances at the translator bot, then back at Nuala. "Get. Back." he snarls in English, presuming since that seems to be the language of the locals, she must know at least some of it if she's here.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala stops her progression, and takes two steps back. She answers in English, "I am not hostile," she offers, raising hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I am here to help. Are you injured? You were in a crash." She doesn't bother stating that he is on Earth, since it seems clear that he knows this. Her accent is very Xandarian, still. If his English is good, he might be able to tell that this is not her first language.

Mon-El has posed:
    The man glares at her as she does at least obey the demand to get back. He still looks pretty hostile, though. But when she offers to help, he just sneers at her. "Ha! I need no help from you Terran trash!" Any scans will indicate he doesn't seem to be injured at all, but...something else is off. "Leave now, or you die!" he threatens. Well English is definitely not his first language, either.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala's feet ready for a fight, though her hands stay raised in the same non-threatening gesture. "I am not here as your enemy," she says. "And I am not from Earth." Well, that's debatable. "I am a member of the Halal Task Force from Nova Corps. You know that means I cannot just be of leaving, yes?" The Halal Task Force is not a traditional military unit. It is known as a preventative maintenance team against parasitic alien threats. They usually operate in small teams to eradicate threats to a planet before they escalate.

Mon-El has posed:
    "Terran are trash. Xandarian are trash also. All of them are trash, it does not matter! They will -all- bow before Daxam! They will fall before our might!" The man declares. And then there's a flash of red and thermal vision not unlike Superman's flies out of his face straight at Nuala.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala starts to tuck to the side as the thermal vision blasts forward, and takes a glancing blow across her shell armor, spinning her to the side and bracing herself against a wall. The armor of the shoulder glows red for a moment from the strike, and she returns by rearming the armcannon, the machinery sliding around and hiding her hand. It fires a sonic pulse toward the man. "You should not have done that," she says. "You are not on Daxam!"

Mon-El has posed:
    The man doesn't seem to be answering to reason any more. Not that he was before, really either. But her 'advice' is ignored. The sonic pulse hits him, but doesn't seem to do much to him other than push him back a little and piss him off more. He howls angrily, almost like a wild animal, and charges at her practically at the speed of sound, attempting to grab her arm and throw her out of the ship and beyond.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala tries to dodge, but her reflexes, while very good for a human, are no match for such speed. She is caught by the cannon arm, and flies like a robot rag doll through the front divider of the ship, tearing metal and glass with it. Nuala skids, sliding in the moist grass, gouging a path of mud as she slides and then rolls across the ground, finding a heavy tree to stop her. "Ouch."
    "<Hostile illegal militant engaged. Light him up, Timmy!>" she gives the command. The interceptor's forward blasters suddenly ignite, raining down on the ship. She struggles back to her feet. Humans aren't supposed to have this technology access anyway.

Mon-El has posed:
    The interceptor's blasters light up the already burning wreckage like a firework, the flames blossoming up strong as they are fed by the heat of the incoming lasers. The ship comes apart even more than before, the top of it caving in as it collapses on itself.

    ...And yet, the berserk Daxamite shoots out of the burning wreck, apparently still unharmed and ready to resume the beatdown. He flies at her, completely uninhibited. A sonic boom pierces the air, the shockwave knocking down even more trees.

    At the speed he's moving, she has little time to dodge or get to cover. If she has any kind of shield, it -might- be enough to blunt the blow if she can bring it up fast enough. This time, Nuala -may- have bitten off more than she can chew...

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala's shoulder mounted missiles spring during the approach, and two missiles leave their dock just as he's arriving, immediately detonating. The force knocking her to the side just as he reaches her. Her smoking armor takes some impact from her own explosion, tossing her to the side and back from the attack. It's hardly the best way to avoid being hit, but she bets it is better than being hit by the Daxamite. She rolls quickly to her feet, and begins spraying the frost spread in his direction, knowing that she has to preemptively respond to what she thinks he will do. "<Authorize torpedoes, Duvall Beta 1!>" She will get in so much trouble if she uses these. But maybe, just maybe, she'll live to get in trouble.

Mon-El has posed:
    The explosions serve to buy Nuala a bit more time, as they knock the both of them away from each other just a little and create a smokescreen of sorts that he wasn't expecting. The quick thinking probably saved her life that time, if we're being perfectly honest. The angry man starts cursing up a storm in Daxamite as she fires the frost cannon, although it doesn't appear to do anything to slow him down. He's charging at her again now, and it looks as if this may be the end, because those torpedos aren't going to get here before he reaches her...

    Luckily for her, something -else- does. Well, someONE else. Another man with similar strength, it would appear. Just before her attacker reaches her position, he seems to dive down out of nowhere, sending the berserker into the ground--hard. A crater forms, the ground shaking as if there's been a small localized earthquake. Then, before he can get back up, her rescuer just...picks up her attacker and drop kicks him into the sky. He goes flying, and continues until he simply -disappears- behind the clouds.

    With that taken care of, the newcomer approaches her and offers her a hand up off the ground. "You okay?" he asks, concern in his voice.

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala braces for the impact... but it doesn't come. She feels the impact of the ground, taking her to her knees. She looks up just in time to see the kick deliver her attacker to the sky. "<Praise God and his timely deliverance.>" she sighs in Astonian. "I have hurt worse," she says, standing to her feet. "A Daxamite? What is a Daxamite warship doing on Earth?" She adjusts her neck inside the armor. "Nuala Duvall, Nova Corps Halal Task Force."

Mon-El has posed:
    "Lar Gand." he nods, sticking out a hand for the Terran tradition of handshaking upon meeting someone new. He's finished scanning her body and has confirmed that she is indeed okay. "A pleasure, Nuala. Nova Corps huh." he sighs at her questions. "It's a long story, and I still have questions myself, since I wasn't here when they showed up. My um, niece Laurel would know more."

Nuala Duvall has posed:
    Nuala nods. The arm cannon retracts into the suit, and Nuala looks at the hand for a second, and only seems to belatedly realize the gesture, and takes his hand in a firm shake, at least for a human. The helmet retracts, revealing Her head, face slightly sweaty. "Thank you for the save," she admits. "I would love to talk with you more about this. I need to file a report right away with Nova Corps. You understand. Perhaps what I just learned can help us both figure out what that was about."