6769/Deep Space Legislation

Deep Space Legislation
Date of Scene:	05 March 2019
Location:	Deep Space
Synopsis:	The Guardians of the Galaxy and a fleet of space rabbits fight off a dozen Legislators.
Cast of Characters:	Blurr, Lobo, Adam Warlock, Star-Lord, 7665

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Blurr has posed:
    So Star-Lord seems to have brought home a Cybertronian this time. It probably isn't the worst thing he's ever tried to adopt, but maybe probably among the largest. Since he's refused to leave Blurr behind at his wrecked ship, the Autobot figured he might as well maximize their chances of surviving even though he didn't -really- want the fleshlings to get involved.

    Thus, he's been trying to help Peter fix up the Milano as much as possible before the Legislators return, but the team may have noticed that for one, he was not in good shape when they found him, and his condition has only worsened. Also there is constantly this pink liquid all over the cargo bay floor.

    "....u-uhmStarLord...i-ifyouwon'tleavewithoutme...atleastleavewithme...buyus...sometime...." he mumbles.

Lobo has posed:
    "Hey, uhhh, I think the robot's leakin'. You know what I'd do, I'd chain it up outside so it wouldn't get all over the carpets, or whatever ya got decorating this small ship interior."

    For his part, Lobo has not been helping or assisting. True, with his strength many chores could get done immediately, but the Main Man had a...tenuous relationship with hard work, at best. At the moment, his hard work was confined to getting up, and moving across the ship to make sure no pink liquid got on his boots or leather pants. He didn't need that kind of hassle today.

Adam Warlock has posed:
Being a Guardian of the Galaxy has its perks. Like access to the Milano. At least, someone might consider that a perk.

That's where Adam Warlock happens to be currently, walking through the ship towards the sound of someone doing mechanical work on the vehicle. Hoping to come across a friend the golden skinned being enters the cargo bay and pauses when he sees a Cybertronian bleeding on the floor. "Are you in need of assistance, friend?" asks the mage as his feet leave the surface of the vessel and he floats towards Blurr, staff in hand.

The white skinned figure moving out of the way of the flowing pool of pink liquid is given a nod of acknowledgement but Warlock seems to be fairly fixated on the Transformer.

Star-Lord has posed:
To the credit of Star-Lord, he was half interested in making a new friend... and half interested in the massive payday a small squadron of these Legislator bots could give on the black market. Not that he had any intention of telling Blurr that.

Just after deciding to stay, a message had been sent out to the nearest subspace comm relay on the express lane to the sector where Omega was; a priority one Guardian alert for anyone who was not immediately busy with the Arcadia operation to come over to a set of coordinates provided and defend a Cybertronian and his ship from other Cybertronians. Details to be discussed on arrival.

Oh, and bring some repair material while you're at it. Cough Cough.

Star-Lord is pretty strong himself, and Angela was able to handle the serious heavy lifting, so repairs proceeded well... but that leaking was getting very annoying. "So Blurr. There a reason you're leaking all over my cargo bay? I have no idea how that chassis of yours works, but that doesn't really look healthy." Star-Lord comments as he watches it. Stares, really.

Blurr has posed:
    Blurr stares at the floating golden person. Organics just kept getting weirder and weirder. "I-I..." he starts to reply to Star-Lord, but can't seem to get it all out. "w-weshouldgo..." Not healthy, indeed.

    It's too bad Rocket isn't around, but you don't need a Rocket to figure this bot has holes in his body. And if anyone who had been inside the derelict ship earlier, there had been a tank full of something in there that looks similar to what's all over the floor.

Lobo has posed:
    At this point, Lobo was staring directly at Peter, his blood-red eyes as ominous as ever, the black dots for pupils are inherently aggressive, but one could also see the "doneness" there. The big albino-skinned man gave a snort even as idly, he kept twirling one of his main combat knives. And was actually rather dextrous when doing so!

    "If this sucker sputters and stutters on much longer, I might just give it what it wants, and boot its ass right on out the airlock. Can't we just shove some'a Rocket's furballs in those huge fraggin' holes, see if they plug up nice an' easy?"

Adam Warlock has posed:
"I may be able to heal you," Warlock says to the Transformer, floating closer with concern on his face and in his voice. "I do not have much experience with Cybertronian physiology but I believe I can stop you from leaking further, if you will allow me to make the attempt." A thought seems to come to his mind, "I am Adam Warlock."

The golden man glances Quill's way, "I am afraid I did not bring materials for repairing with me. I may be able to transmute some given some time, however."

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    They pop out've hyperspace, well close enough for sensors to detect out there in the black. Freighters, tenders, mine sweepers, cruisers and carriers well past their service life all in a single well organized convoy. That particular grab bag of a convoy is strange enough, but there are like...ten of them. All of which carry a potentially unfamilar identification code, the RMV prefix is simple enough. "Registered Mercenary Vessel" was usually reserved for big mercinary outfits, and well that little fleet would certainly quantify. The nearest of which is an old Coga cutter, IFF returns it's the "RMV The Complication" flagged out of "The Confederation of Rabbits". Roundels are plainly visible on her space worn hull, a rabbit skull over crossed blasters.

Rabbits, in Space.

Star-Lord has posed:
The 'new ship' alert was audible on the Milano by the time Star-Lord was about to suggest finding that very same fluid on Blurr's ship. "That's not 'hostile ships'... so we have someone new." Star-Lord reasons out as he heads for the bridge "Hold that thought," Blurr gets in a reply... and once he reaches the bridge, he checks his scanners.

"What is this, the Galaxy Express lane? I swear half the galaxy is coming out into the ass end this week." Star-Lord grumps as he slams a fist into the comm-array, "Unidentified vessel, this is Star-Lord of the Guardians of the Galaxy, aboard the Milano. Please identify."

Blurr has posed:
    "...th-they're coming--th-they'llkeepcoming..." Blurr isn't exactly in any shape to -not- allow Adam to attempt to heal him, so he is free to do whatever he sees fit to try. As a matter of fact, even as he is peering at the mage, his optics flicker and fade, and he slumps against the wall, motionless. It very much seems that if someone doesn't do -something- soon, he might be done for.

    As Peter hails the new fleet, the proximity alerts go off again. This time, the blips are familiar. Yep, it's those 'Legislators' Blurr was telling them about again. And this time, there are at least twice as many as before. And they do not discriminate. As soon as they are in range, which is fragging -quick-, as before they start to attempt to flank and surround the Milano and the The Complication (yes, just because it happens to be there), all guns blazing.

Lobo has posed:
    Lobo, being unaware of all of this just yet, is still twirling that hunting knife around since in the silent vacuum of space, he hears no sound of fire and feels no vibration unless the ship is being hit directly. Instead, the last Czarnian is looking over at Peter as he's talking.

    "Yeah, turns out the 'Great Silent Black' ain't so silent no more. Who woulda thunk, right?"

Adam Warlock has posed:
When Blurr slumps over Warlock looks worried. His eyes start to glow as he begins to peer into and through the wounded alien's mechanical body. Holding his staff in front of him with two hands Warlock begins to focus on repairing the injured racer, breathing steadily as flowing beams of light begin to spread out from his body and into the Transformer's. Each beam begins to knit pieces of broken machinery back together, the mage trying to make the Robot in Disguise as whole again as he is able to. All of his attention is focused on his repair attempt.

Though not a mechanic it's not difficult to determine where the leaks are coming from and where holes shouldn't be and so the magic beams seem to be steadily drawn there, each heating and bending the living metal back into place. Molecules are taken from the air and used to seal holes.

Star-Lord has posed:
"The A-holes are back!" Star-Lord announces... both locally, and to the ship. And to their new 'friends' in the fleet. Without another word, Star-Lord pops into the pilot seat and /GUNS/ the throttle. He had prepared the Milano with heavier weapons this time, seeing as they were trying to pick a fight instead of running from it. Plasma cannons replace blaster turrets, and the few anti-ship missiles Peter keeps onboard are locked onto the oncoming swarm as Star-Lord starts to turn into a crazy maniac ace.

"HOLD ON!"

The Milano has inertial dampeners... but they're working overtime as Star-Lord begins to dodge and weave amongst the fire. "Warlock, I need you helping in combat as soon as you're able!"

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    It takes a moment, before a voice crackles over the radio."This is Fleet Commander Cash O'hare, commander of the Rabbit Migrant Fleet. We'r-.."Klaxons sound in the background, and the transmission cuts short. The Fleet's too close and too entangled with god knows what for another jump just yet, but it reacts quickly enough. Fleet defense seems, well awfully light but the old cruiser peels itself out of line to run up the line to shield some of the seemingly unarmed transports. Pickets and cutters lay on the fire, dump torpedos and start dumping chaff. Clouds of little aluminum flecks, enough to work as a smoke screen in the depth of space.

    As a single cohesive line, they turn away from the fire and fall back into line without missing a beat, it's impressive considering how grab-bag that fleet is. Hauling in the opposite direction of the fight, and well they don't seem to have much modern armament or a fighter screen to speak of.

Blurr has posed:
    Adam's efforts seem to be working, albeit slowly. Cybertronian physiology is rather complex, and probably not something he's very familiar with. At the very least though, he is able to prevent him from leaking out completely. Still, he's rather weak and fuel-starved.

    ...Adam might have more important things to worry about, now. Peter has some pretty ace piloting skills, but with the Legislators having doubled in number, the Milano is jarred by a few blasts from the flanks. But, thanks to the plasma cannons, Quill is able to do some substantial damage to a couple of them. It draws their aggro though, and they focus their fire on the Milano.

    As for the migrant fleet, those that are farther off from the Milano actually get ignored, but the Complication that seems to be attracting them the most. It has the size advantage, though. One of the interceptor-sized golden craft manages to get through the aluminum clouds and torpedoes and flies at one of its airlocks--its form shifting until it actually turns into a faceless biped that starts trying to rip the door off and board the craft.

Lobo has posed:
    Knife twirling plus lightspeed barrel rolls, plus the chaos of being fired upon meant that For a few moments Lobo was slumped in his chair, his own hunting knife buried through his face to the hilt, red crimson dribbling down against his shirt and pants and boots. Suddenly it seemed he came back to life with a sudden lurch, hand grabbing at the knife and pulling it slowly, slowly, slowly from his face. The sound was agonizing, and the wound left behind was absolutely horrific, until it stitched itself back together and a now red-faced Main Man was looking around wildly for a few moments.

    "Well, looks like I woke up just in time fer party time! Time ta...yeah!"

    In his defense, some of his brain cells were still trying to stitch themselves back together, and he could swear the cockpit of the Milano smelled like the color purple for a moment. But he pushed past these thoughts to leap toward the tailgunner seat, strapping himself in, and immediately going to town spraying at the big aggressive ships that were shooting at them. Given his state moments prior, his aiming wasn't the best in the world. But it was counter-fire at least!

Adam Warlock has posed:
"I am available to assist you now, Star-Lord," says Adam Warlock as he surveys his handiwork, hoping the Cybertronian recovers. That's when the ship starts to move erratically. With a thoughtful nod he holds his staff straight up in front of himself, both ends of it beginning to glow, and spins it once through the air to create a portal which he then zips through. It closes behind him instantly.

Appearing out in the vacuum of space, Warlock levels his staff one handed at the incoming swarm of robotic threats and begins to unleash powerful rays of cosmic energy. He flies swiftly above the Milano while remaining in range, trying to draw fire from the Legislators. Waiting for them to start blasting at him he begins to raise his free hand so that he can form an energy shield in front of it to protect himself.

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    You know back on earth if you try to mess with a Rabbit in it's warren? It'll fight like mad. Turns out psychotic cybernetic space rabbits with a penchant for ultra violence and automatic weaponry, are not exactly wholly pacifists either. The attempted boarding is met with extreme measures, as the hatch is swiss-cheesed from the inside with some sort of heavy automatic cannon. Churning on the hate for far longer than is strictly necessary.

    A cutter breaks away, rolling on it's axis before somone starts shoveling on the coal because those old drives flare and she surges fourth. Torpedo tubes unlocking, using light railgun fire to bore a hole in that chaff cloud just big enough to dump an entire spread of torpedos. Her cargo bays blow their doors, leaving the vessel to tumble wildly for a moment and spew whatever it had in it's cargo bay. Momentum more than sufficient to carry the cargo through that smoke screen, before she powers away back towards the fleet to provide cover.

    So what did she have in her cargo bay? Naval Fission mines, usually meant for dropships and shuttles sure. The issue isn't their size here, it's that that cutter just dumped an improbable amount of them on a trajectory towards the attacking fleet.

    "Attention hostile vessels, this is Fleet commander of the RMV Complication. Get fucked. Complication out."

Star-Lord has posed:
The Milano is definitely an upper end scout ship with the serious amount of modification Star-Lord has done to it... but it's still only a high end scout ship against military grade Cybertronian technology. Even with Peter's skill, some blasts are hitting vulnerable sections of the shields before the generator can reestablish them fully.

"Whew, these things hit hard. Definitely got respect for these a-holes in a fight." Star-Lord muses, mostly to himself, as he turns around and starts to fly behind two of the fighter-bots.

"Come to papa...." *click* Plasma fire begins to funnel into the engines of one as Star-Lord gets into a dogfight with the pair. With Lobo in the back and Adam working above the Milano, Star-Lord takes into account their aiming profiles and tries to steady his piloting for them to have accurate hits.

Then the mines show up on scanners, and Star-Lord wide eyes, "Oh f-"

He doesn't have time to finish the sentence, because the attacking fleet is going right for him.

Time to do crazy piloting again, because fission mines are going to /RUIN/ the Milano if they detonate even slightly near them.

Blurr has posed:
    Adam does manage to draw quite a bit of aggro away from the Milano, as three of them that had been chasing the scout ship down get hit by the blasts and turn their attention on the gold-skinned man. One attempts to fly into a left flank position and strafe him from there, while a second flies up behind and fires a missile. A third flies straight at him and shifts into its biped form, raising two fists and slamming them down hard on the shield. "Three fourteen fifty-five. Three fourteen fifty-five." is the only verbal communication anyone, including the RMV Complication's Fleet Command, would receive from the hostile drones. Well, that is, anyone who is able to either understand or decipher Neocybex, which is modern Cybertronian language.

    Lobo's wild shots actually manage to blow off the altmode weaponry of the two drones that continue their assault on the Milano even after Warlock emerged. They also transform, and attempt to land on top of Star-Lord's ship. They start pounding on the shields with their massive fists. Though they are only small fight craft compared to most vessels...they are still significantly larger in stature than someone like Blurr.

    Peter manages to fancy pilot himself into position behind another one of the enemy vessels, and its engines explode into flame as he fires plasma into them. It transforms and turns around, but ends up colliding with one of those fission mines, which explodes violently and probably sets off a chain reaction. Hopefully Star-Lord has gotten the Milano well out of the blast radius by then...

    Back at the Complication, machine gun fire peppers -through- the airlock and puts holes in the Legislator's chassis. It staggers a bit, but that doesn't seem to have stopped it. It rips off the now-weakened door and tries to enter, though the opening might not be quite large enough for it. "Three fourteen fifty-five..." It fires at the frame, trying to break it open further so it can get through.

Lobo has posed:
    There was a brief lull from the firing as Lobo got his 'head on straight', as it were. He could faintly hear Peter in the background yelling about something, but truth be told, the Czarnian wasn't really THAT concerned. He had every confidence that he would survive anything happening to this ship, but it might mean being stranded out here in nowheresville for a long time, without booze or tobacco, that was a grim proposition.

    So Lobo pressed a few buttons on his cool skull belt buckle, and his Hog which had been attached magnetically to the side of the Milano, freed itself and started zigzagging through the battlefield, causing chaos and perhaps distracting the gunships just enough for their side to get some sort of an edge. And that was when Lobo returned to firing, this time concentrating far more, and firing even if they went past the recent field of explosives. Lobo wasn't as awful a shot as he let on, and was at least good enough to shoot through a minefield without setting any off. Anything to deter pursuers.

Adam Warlock has posed:
As one of the attacking robots attempts to force it's way through his shield Adam Warlock lets it disappear and attempts to fly past his much, much larger attacker, attempting to keep it between himself and the weapons fire being directed his way before striking out at it with his staff. The blow is backed not just by Warlock's strength but by his powerful magic, the end of the staff radiating an intense heat even through the coldness of space. While he maneuvers in his attempt to do this the golden mage speaks out loud over the radio, "Star-Lord, if you fly behind me I will create a shield to attempt to detonate the mines before they can reach the Milano."

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    Maglock rabbit feet release, and Blackjack floats from that deck plating. Slowly rolling his shoulders before bringing that trusty carbine to shoulder, chancing a glance over his shoulder to the masses of elite light infantry coiled like springs behind him. The door comes off, and the heavy machinegun fire erupts like a hellfire chorus, pouring hate into the black beyond. Proper anti-mech weaponry inside a ship is, well a terrible idea.

    Blackjack snags that sail, and kicks off. Eyes narrowing as that jump jet cracks into bright purple, a trio of rabbits moving in unison through the hail of machinegun fire. Trusting their comrades not to bury heavy blaster fire into them.

    Blackjack half rolls over onto his back as he rockets through a gap and past the Legislator. He hurtles that sail with one hand, and hesitates just a fraction to line up his shot. A high power magnetic grapple fired at the jerk's back, as that sail-ball pops open, unfurling as it swings right into the cutter's driveline. His comrades aren't but a second or two behind, because if it's worth doing once.

Star-Lord has posed:
"Are you serious?" Star-Lord exclaims in frustration as one of them /lands/ on the Milano. No time to try and use momentum to get it off though, because suddenly he's right on the edge of a series of massive explosions. "I'm not going to be able to keep behind you if this thing on the hull gets to the engines, but I'll try." Star-Lord grunts as he banks /hard/ to one side, getting out of the explosive radius of one of the mines quickly.

At least Lobo has fairly clear shots as Peter beelines it out of the giant explosions, with Adam in front.

Blurr has posed:
    Lobo's vessel serves a fairly good distraction, temporarily drawing some fire away from Adam and the Milano, though it might need significant repairs later on.

    The bot attacking Adam hadn't expected him to actually just shut it down, and ends up going barreling past. These things seem to be a lot of brawn but not a lot of brain. As such, it gets pummeled by its fellows. Then it gets clocked by Adam's supercharged staff. Its body cracks down the middle and bursts into flame before exploding. The shockwave and flying debris would require some evasive maneuvers on Adam's and the Milano's part to avoid getting struck, although it does blow up the other two that had been dogging the golden mage.

    Fortunately for the Migrant fleet rabbits, the Legislator hadn't fully managed to get itself through the broken airlock when it is assaulted by a hail of machine gunfire from the tiny mammalians. Still, it had an arm through, from which a massive golden sword emerges, and it slices across the swarms of them in an attempt to cut them pieces. It doesn't even notice Blackjack flying past it--that is, until it suddenly finds itself grappled into thruster wash, which quickly melts its armor and turns it into a lump of molten slag. Certainly, what the bunnies lack in size, they make up for in street smarts and resourcefulness.

    As the Milano banks sharply, the two drones attempting to punch their way through the shields lose their grip and are thrown off. They transform and start to make chase, while the rest that remain are focused on Warlock. But, some of those fission mines are still floating around out there--if Adam can draw them toward the explosives and away from the Milano, he may be able to use that to his advantage and simply teleport himself away before he himself can blown up!

Lobo has posed:
    The drones were shaken off for the minute, but the Main Man knew that was likely to change very soon. And at this point, with everyone else's cover fire, Lobo was able to get more personal. Quickly gearing up, he hit the airlocks and leapt right out, and with a pair of machetes that were tough enough to handle the strength Lobo could exert, and some back-up from the machine gun and sawed-off strapped to him, the Last Czarnian stood atop the Milano and decided to see if ALL of these robot geeks bled the same gross pink stuff, or if it was just the blue dweeb that was dying inside. Either way, it would be fun!

Blackjack O'hare (7665) has posed:
    The trio of adorable killer space rabbits slow their progress to survey the scene, before well Blackjack's comrades head back towards their cutter. No our hero takes a moment, before fishing out a playing card from his kit and pitching it off into the debris field behind the fleet. It's not as if he didn't want them to know who did this, quite the opposite really. Besides, superstition is no small thing for a Rabbit with no feet. He lights his jetpack, and heads back inside so his comrades can patch that hatch shut.

    Drives spool, gravity goes wierd as the whole migrant fleet gets things squared away. Then in a flash of light they depart, leaving behind mines, a cloud of aluminum dust, plenty of shrapnel and a single playing card bearing the personal logo of their Field Commander. It sucks of course, these damn robots just ruined movie night in the fleet for every-bunny.

Get it, Everybunny?

Adam Warlock has posed:
Warlock is a very busy Avatar of Life at the moment, what with robots everywhere trying to destroy him and his friends. His strategic mind and amazing senses analyze the battlefield for every possible advantage now that his most immediate threats are dealt with. The mines. The Legislators. The golden man takes off, leading the enemy robots towards the explosives as fast as he can fly. Smashing the giant Transformers into the bombs has to be a better way to handle them than whipping up another shield. As he flies the mage whips back and forth through the vacuum, trying to make himself as difficult a target as possible as he zips forward.

It's at the very last moment that he does something unexpected. Rather than allow himself to explode he teleports just before connecting with the lead mine. The Legislators behind him are not lucky enough to be masters of magic. As such they're unable to turn away from their course and collide headlong into the weapons the bunnies deployed.

The explosions are massive, bright things, each one destroying a robot ship, at least one, in a spectacular burst of energy. It's quite beautiful to watch from afar, which is what Adam ends up doing, viewing his handiwork until such time as there are no explosions left. A playing card floats past him and with a curious look on his face the being once called Him takes it, looking at it momentarily before teleporting away.