Dead Star Dockyards

Donovan sat down on his bed, allowing himself a moment to recuperate before he continued doing something he considered incredibly stupid. He couldn't put it off for too long though, Trebar, Gawan, Nemo, and Kayes were waiting for him, not that they knew what they were waiting for. Thus, Donovan permitted himself a little bit more time to meditate on what he was about to do, what he might be getting the four of them into. This was a rare moment of delay from Donovan, a pointless attempt to avoid what he had steeled himself to do for as long as possible, but he couldn't wait much longer.

Relenting after a few minutes, he got off the bed and slid a metal case out from underneath the bed with his foot. He inhaled before bending over to pick it up, bracing himself more for the emotional weight than the physical. Once it was safely on the bed, he allowed himself to release that breath in the form of a sigh.

click

The case popped open ever so slightly when he pressed the button on the top, the slight crack revealing a dark abyss Donovan did not want any part of at this moment. If he were to move forward, to continue with his actions, he could be playing with fire. If Trebar and the others weren't enough, if Donovan couldn't get a handle on this situation, the future of the Terran race would be uncertain. At the same time, he recognized that he wasn't in a position to solve this little problem of his with a tool other than this one right here. Hands at the base of the corners, Donovan flipped the lid the rest of the way open, revealing the contents within.

A pistol, his pistol. He hadn't brought it with him on the Noah, he was denied access to firearms at that time, this was a pistol he and Arc had designed. Well, 'designed' was a bit strong for what they had done. In truth they had modified a pre-existing firearm to not rely on a liquid lubricant like oil in order to operate, and altered the caliber in order to fit the planned standard for their army. 'P10M0PxL', the name they had come up with, stood for 'Pistol 10mm Model 0 - Prototype/no lubricant'. Not the most creative of names for sure, but neither felt the need to provide that sort of energy or importance to a prototype sidearm they weren't sure would enter regular service anyways. 

As he looked down on the shiny, unpainted steel, he couldn't help but lament the fact that this finely machined work would have a remarkably short life span. They did not have any sort of anti-corrosion paint, so rust in the wrong place would render the thing inoperable. Much the same, it would quickly wear itself out without the help of lubricant. This weapon had been constructed for Donovan fully understanding it would have a limited lifespan, it was only meant to last until the Pegasus was completed.

Donovan got to work dismantling it in order to check for damage. It may have been brand new, but Donovan needed to be absolutely certain that it would be working today. There was absolutely no question in his mind that he would be using it. He wasn't too concerned about putting it back together either. The model they had based it on was one he was intimately familiar with. Everything was a bit bigger, sure, but basically the same. He had it back together faster than he dismantled it, it was enough for him to note all the differences and adjust.

Racking the slide and disengaging the safety, Donovan aimed at the empty pistol at the vase near the window.

clack

It was operable, at the very least. Would the firing pin hit the center of the primer? He didn't really question it. Arc was arguably more precise than it needed to be when constructing things, and Donovan did not believe himself to be capable of damaging a part on accident, not on the surface of the bed. 

Next was the holster. An over the clothing design, Donovan knew he would need to wear an overcoat in order to conceal it, but that was a sacrifice to mobility he was willing to take given his situation. Tightly securing it around his waist, he hoped it would look close enough to a belt to not raise suspicion. Content with it's position, Donovan loaded one of his precious few magazines into the pistol and nosed it into the holster. He would only take two of the remaining three magazines with him, the holster could not fit any more. This gave him 45 bullets to work with, more than he would probably need but less than he'd like.

"Okay." Donovan close the case and kicked it back under the bed. "Let's do this."

- - - - -

"Welcome back." Trebar, despite his junior status compared to Kayes, assumed the position of leader of their posse. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to us about?"

"Talk, ask, show, you get the idea, right? Anyways, I don't-" Donovan looked around the lobby, eyes stopping on one of the maids. "I don't feel like talking about it in the presence of others."

His implication was obvious, Donovan did not want anyone to see or hear them. 

"Shall we head to a room then?" Gawan's suggestion was the most reasonable, but it wasn't where Donovan wanted to go.

"No, um. I don't think that any of the rooms we could go to have enough space, and I think I need a slight change of scenery. I was thinking we might be able to take a walk outside?" Donovan was trying his hardest to not bite his tongue, to not come off as crazy.

"Well. . ." Trebar looked to his compatriots, all of whom either nodded or showed the cared little. ". . . we can do that, I suppose."

"Great!" Donovan had to keep his hand from hovering over the holster. The four of them might be familiar with firearms on some level, but Donovan had no desire to raise suspicion or alarm with them on that issue. If they did notice, hopefully they would think it was a dagger. "Great."

". . . are you alright kid?" Bishop Kayes' question almost made Donovan freeze up. "You aren't looking like yourself."

"I'm fine, sort of." Donovan wasn't about to lie here, he recognized it as a chance to assuage their suspicions instead. "It's actually part of what I wanted to talk with you about so. . ." Donovan gestured towards the door, practically begging them to get a move on.

- - - - - 

Each step he took made Donovan feel like he was becoming crazier and crazier. Was he really doing this? Yes, yes he was.

"So . . . Donovan. Uuuh, I don't think anybody is nearby. . ." Gawan's words caused the hair on the back of Donovan's neck to rise. He couldn't see him, but Gawan was probably looking around. "Think you might be able to clue us in on what this is all about?"

Donovan knew that silence here would be more suspicious than if he told them outright, but he wasn't about to tell them everything. He was going to have to keep them occupied with nothing. What should that nothing be? It had to be 'worrying' enough to warrant their presence, but he couldn't think of anything on the spot like this.

"Well-" Donovan exhaled, desperately buying time for him to come up with something. "What is it that you want out of life?"

Donovan had no idea where that came from. 

". . . sorry?"

"Em, hmm. How do I say this? What, um, do you all have an idea of what your ideal future is? Like, what you want the world to look like after you die?" Donovan had no idea if that made sense, but he was going to work with it.

"I can't say I do." - Gawan

"I haven't put much thought into it." - Trebar

"I think it's better left unsaid." - Kayes

"Whatever your vision is, my lord." - Nemo

"Eh, o-oh. Um, shit. Well, I suppose I should say mine then?" Donovan looked back to see all of them beckoning him onwards with semi-concerned expressions. "I-I want a secure world for Diana and my children to live in, one free from threats to their health and safety."

Donovan found himself stuck on something of a rock. He didn't know where to go from here.

". . . is that all?"

"Y-yes, which I think is something of a problem." Donovan took the out that had been offered. "See, my problem is that I kind of already have that? I spent my life in an environment that shunned the idea of a dream, something extraneous to myself. I was to follow orders, or achieve an objective, and I have modeled my entire life around that sort of lifestyle. Does that make sense?" He had made sure that they were moving. They weren't yet where he needed them to be.

"I suppose."

"Well, um, now that this future of mine, the whole security of Diana bit, has been pretty much achieved . . ." Donovan took a deep breath. At this point he wasn't sure how much of what he was saying was a lie. "W-what should I do?"

The four of them shared a glance with each other, none of them quite sure what they should tell him. 

"F-fine. I guess that's a question I should be asking Diana." They all nodded, kind of. They really didn't want to look like they were the one telling him what to do. Regardless, they were getting close. Donovan needed to keep them occupied for a few more seconds. ". . . there's actually another thing bothering me."

". . . is that so?"

"Y-yeah." Donovan was absolutely certain that he was about to sound insane. "Do you all, um, ever get the feeling that you are being watched?"

As expected, silence.

"I don't mean all the time, but I just can't shake it. As you might be able to tell, it is having something of an affect on me. . ." They had made it to the place Donovan had planned, not that anybody but Donovan knew. "Ever since the demonstration, I've been feeling this burning sensation whenever I am anywhere in public, like I'm being watched."

"That . . . doesn't seem like that big of a deal. I think anybody would be feeling the way you . . ." Gawan offered his thoughts on the matter, but Donovan wasn't listening.

He was looking around, looking for the clues he knew would be there. He had purposely led them to this place, the grassy area between a few of the buildings behind the Barracks, because he knew there were only a limited number of places he could be approached from, where he could be seen from. The grass here would also make it easier to see where-

there

BANG BANG BANG

Donovan wasted no time.

Sacrificing accuracy for speed, Donovan fired three shots at the invisible entity which had been stalking him. Surprise, he had surmised, was going to be the most crucial element in the success or failure of his attempt at unveiling it. If it was a person powerful enough in Split to make themselves invisible, they could possibly be fast enough to dodge a bullet. If it was a ghost or something like it, an entity which did not interact with the physical plane, he supposed he was screwed. Donovan didn't know how to damage the incorporeal (besides an idea about electricity and magnets), but he doubted that possibility given how it interacted with elements on the ground. 

Unfortunately, reality turned out to be neither of those. The indistinguishable 'pi-vzzz' of a ricocheting bullet told him that his attack did not have any effect. 

The figure slowly phased into existence, shakily abandoning whatever trick it used to render itself invisible. Humanoid in shape, one of it's, his, arms was reaching up and scratching the back of his head. Testing the waters with a clearly visible target, Donovan fired two more shots center of mass. Two sparks, no good. A handgun wasn't going to be enough for this guy, the worst possible scenario for Donovan.

It was only after these two shots that the rest of the group recovered from their shock and jumped into action. Kayes and Trebar took up positions between Donovan and the intruder, equally spaced so as to give him a clear line of sight on the man. Gawan, on the other hand, had moved to Donovan's left side in a lower stance, pistol leveled just as fast as Donovan had. 

The only one who didn't move was Nemo, who had simply turned to face the threat. Donovan didn't really know where she kept her weapons, making it a mistake to call her unarmed, but she didn't seem to be taking action like the others had.

"Who are you?"

"Leave the talking to me, Trebar." Kayes stepped forward. As the man with more experience and strength, he would be the one to bear the brunt of whatever onslaught this person was capable of. Trebar would act as support. "Donovan, Gawan, go get Cholst and Zhoie. It sounds like your pistols won't do shit."

"Yes sir!"

"Bahahahahaha!" The laughter of the mysterious man put a stop to any action they were planning to take, each getting the chills as he began to slowly clap. "Well done! Well done!"

Donovan couldn't stop himself from sending a few more shots down range. Once again, none of them did anything. The man simply ignored them. 

BANG BANG

"I must say, it has been quite a while since someone besides the Progenitor managed to identify me! Tell me, how did you do it?" Suddenly, he vanished, setting them on the back foot. 

BANG BANG BANG

Once more he appeared, almost ninety degrees to the right of where he had been only a moment previously.

"So it wasn't a fluke? Aah, I must say, this is quite the treat! Honestly, I would have preferred us to have spoken together in private for the first time, but I can't blame you for bringing these little sellswords along!" Gone, again.

BANG BANG BANG

Donovan did not let up on the trigger despite how ineffectual it was. Right now, it was his best weapon, and he could only trace the footprints in the grass.

BANG BANG BANG

Despite the invisibility, Donovan's instincts screamed at the sudden stop of the indentations that he needed to get away. That was a charge. 

BANG

Fifteen. He was out, and there was no way he was reloading with the man this close to him. Donovan let go of the pistol with his right hand just as a pair of hands appeared, one holding the slide back while the other snagged his left wrist. Donovan's training kicked in immediately. 

Abandoning the pistol completely, allowing his opponent to take control of the empty pistol, he reciprocated the grip held on his left wrist, locking their forearms together. At the same time, he twisted his body, grabbing his enemy's elbow with his right hand and propping his right shoulder underneath theirs. Sweeping wide with his left foot, he began the process of throwing the assailant as he once did to Titanyana. 

Unlike before though, Donovan was not making an attempt to restrain this man. He was dangerous, presenting a clear and present danger to his person. No, Donovan was attempting to debilitate his foe. Instead of 'rolling' his opponent, Donovan 'pushed' them headfirst into the ground, the goal being to crack the skull or damage the spine on impact with the ground due to the combined force of their body weights. 

thum

Donovan could feel that it hadn't worked.