- Joined
- Nov 10, 2008
- Messages
- 3,877
- Reputation score
- 192
Much like the exterior of the station, the corridors and halls that make up the infrastructure of The Dividing Line used to be clad in sleek, cold white steel, underlining the positive light the TDP liked to paint itself in. Now, large parts of the station were depressurized, and many corridors had holes punched into them just as much as the exterior, making moving a much more dangerous venture.
The Black Wind pulled up sideways to the open hangar bay and did a sweep with a spotlight. Nothing but a few old, forsaken crates were torn out of the darkness, likely left behind by the station's previous crew or one of the interim squatters. "Alright, hangar bay seems clear. Hiram, you're up." "Fucking fina-ally," can be heard from behind Nadia, together with stomping footsteps rapidly getting quieter. The large, black Garikian vessel turns, pointing its rear at the station. And as it opened its own hangar door, it became clear just what Hiram needed all the .50 cal ammunition for.
What the diminutive Xyr wielded was some unholy amalgam the likes of which only his kind could produce. Three machine guns welded together, fed by a monstrosity made up of three individual belt magazines. It was as big as he was - how he could lug that gun around was anybody's guess. Hiram jumped out into the hangar bay and activated his mag boots to pull himself towards the floor. "Go ahead and land," he broadcasted towards the others. "I'll cover ya-a."
The Black Wind pulled up sideways to the open hangar bay and did a sweep with a spotlight. Nothing but a few old, forsaken crates were torn out of the darkness, likely left behind by the station's previous crew or one of the interim squatters. "Alright, hangar bay seems clear. Hiram, you're up." "Fucking fina-ally," can be heard from behind Nadia, together with stomping footsteps rapidly getting quieter. The large, black Garikian vessel turns, pointing its rear at the station. And as it opened its own hangar door, it became clear just what Hiram needed all the .50 cal ammunition for.
What the diminutive Xyr wielded was some unholy amalgam the likes of which only his kind could produce. Three machine guns welded together, fed by a monstrosity made up of three individual belt magazines. It was as big as he was - how he could lug that gun around was anybody's guess. Hiram jumped out into the hangar bay and activated his mag boots to pull himself towards the floor. "Go ahead and land," he broadcasted towards the others. "I'll cover ya-a."